The Bronzed Hawk (20 page)

It was over an hour later when they resumed
their journey and almost twilight by the time they reached Mac’s beach house.

“Marcy’s not here yet,” Devlin observed, as he parked the car beside the gray, weathered, two-story cedar structure with white-shuttered windows. Though not large, the house had a graceful serenity. A sundeck ran along the entire length of the front, overlooking the blue waters of the Pacific. “The rehearsal must be running late. They’ve been having problems with that ingenue who’s playing Ann.” As he got out of the car, he looked at the horizon and frowned. “There’s a fog rolling in. I hope to hell that she’s already started.”

Kelly could understand his concern. At this time of year, the fog came in with a frightening speed and blanketed the coast with a thick mist that could be very dangerous to motorists.

“Marcy wouldn’t be foolish enough to drive if there was any real problem,” Kelly said comfortingly. “She likes life too much to take any chances.”

“Not like some people I know,” Mac said, giving her a meaningful sidewise glance. “With a
prize like me as a husband, she’d be insane to risk suicide on that freeway.”

Kelly grinned. “She probably arranged to arrive late on purpose so that you’d have to start dinner. And don’t think you’re going to get me to do it. I’m a guest.”

Mac scowled. “Women’s work,” he snorted disgustedly, as he unlocked the front door of the house.

“Bull,” Kelly said succinctly, smiling sweetly. “
This
woman’s work tonight is pounding out the Khadir story on that ancient Smith-Corona you own. I fully intend to be waited on hand and foot while I’m doing it.” She breezed past him into the small foyer of the cottage and headed for the stairs. “I assume that I have the same guest room?”

“Yes,” Mac said gloomily, as he watched her trip lightly up the stairs. “I hope you know that your next assignment is going to be a travel feature on the delights of Death Valley.”

She made a face at him. “Well, it’s bound to be a change from Antarctica!”

————

It was quite a while later when she finally left the guest room. She had spent a good deal of that period just struggling to retain the bright mask she’d assumed for Mac’s benefit. She was finding it incredibly difficult acting her normal self when all she wanted to do was throw herself on the bed and wail like a banshee. But she forced herself to take a shower, and then she tried to disguise with makeup a few of the signs of her emotional upheaval that Mac had picked up so quickly.

In her weary and depressed state, she found it exasperating to search through Marcy’s closet for something to wear for dinner. Absolutely nothing fit. She had almost given up in despair when she ran across a full burgundy skirt that she knew would have to do. Thank heavens Marcy’s waist was as pencil slim as her own, she thought. The hem probably hit fashionably about Marcy’s knees, but it almost touched her own ankles and could have passed as an evening skirt. There was no way that she could fit into
one of Marcy’s blouses, so she had to be satisfied once again with donning her own tunic top. By tightening the matching cream sash at her waist and opening the buttons at the throat to show just a hint of cleavage, it made a very tolerable mate for the velvet skirt. She shrugged indifferently as she looked at the rather bizarre gypsyish figure in the mirror. What difference did it make, anyway? There would be only Mac and Marcy at dinner, and then she would be banished to the typewriter to pound out the Khadir story. Well, the outfit did look rather wild and carelessly gay; perhaps it would add to the cool, uncaring facade she wanted to project tonight. Her sophisticated alligator pumps would have looked ridiculous with the ensemble, so she deliberately left her small feet bare.

She finally left the guest room and danced lightly downstairs, a sunny smile painted on her face. Her smile faded, however, as her gaze fell on the bank of windows that faced the staircase. Generally, even in the evening the view was spectacular from those windows, offering enchanting glimpses of silver sand and white, curling
foam on the midnight darkness of the surf. Tonight there was nothing to be seen but the thick gray mist that pushed against the glass as if it were trying to get in. She had not heard the phone ring since she had gone upstairs. Was Marcy still out in this pea soup of a fog?

“Well, I’m glad you finally deigned to honor me with your presence,” Mac said as he came down the stairs behind her. He had changed into jeans and a white knit, short-sleeved T-shirt that looked fantastic with his deep tan. “I noticed that you waited until everything was done in the kitchen before you put in an appearance.” His keen gray glance raked over her. “Are you planning on telling fortunes after dinner?”

Kelly ignored the flippancy, her expression anxious. “Mac, have you heard from Marcy? I didn’t hear the phone ring.” She shivered as her eyes went back to the windows. “It’s really bad out there.”

He nodded casually. “That it is,” he agreed. At the bottom step he slipped a friendly arm around her waist. “But Marcy’s not out in it, thank God.” He grinned sheepishly. “I was worried, so
I called the theater and caught her before she left. I told her to wait until the fog lifted and drive up in the morning.” He turned her toward the spacious living-dining area. “I explained that she wouldn’t get a chance to talk with you tonight anyway, since I’d be cracking the whip to keep you at the typewriter.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s not out in this mess even if I won’t have her to intercede for me,” Kelly said, allowing him to lead her to the dining area on the far side of the room.

“She must think I’m getting old,” Mac complained. “She was amazingly complacent about my spending the night alone in a deserted beach house with a luscious little blond. She even told me not to work you too hard.” He leered clowningly at Kelly. “I tried to blast her with a witty double entendre, but she just laughed at me.” He sighed. “Yep, she must think I’m getting old.”

Kelly shook her head and laughed as she slipped into a captain’s chair cushioned in a cheerful beige and gold print. “She just believes that you know the gold from the dross by this time,” she said firmly, as she shook out her
napkin. “And that you have the good sense to realize that she’s the real thing.”

Mac’s hard face softened. “Yes, I’d be something of a fool not to know that after twenty years with the woman,” he said thoughtfully.

Kelly felt her throat tighten with emotion at the expression in Mac’s eyes. God, what she would have given to have Nick look at her like that. But she wouldn’t think of Nick, she thought desperately. Not tonight. Not until the pain diminished with the passing of time.

“What are you feeding me tonight?” she demanded, a bright smile on her face. “I absolutely refuse to work without adequate sustenance. Even galley slaves will revolt if pushed too far, you know.”

“If I recall my history, galley slaves were almost never served steak and salad,” Mac said, striding toward the kitchen. “Nor were they waited on quite meekly by their overseers.”

Mac returned with a tray containing both steak platters and two wooden salad bowls. “I’ve just completed my last duties as your host,” he growled, as he went around to his own place
and shifted his own meal from the tray. “From now on I’m your boss, and your first job is the cleaning up. Cooking at least has a little dignity. I absolutely refuse the humiliation of showing up at the office Monday with dishpan hands.”

“I guess I can manage to subdue my liberated spirit to indulge you in that, Mac. Especially since I know Marcy had a whiz of a dishwasher installed last summer.”

“Brat,” Mac accused, as he cut into his steak. “It’s not the labor involved, it’s the principle.”

“My thought exactly,” she said demurely, as she took her first bite of the steak. “But I’ll be very tolerant and not give you a lecture on the chauvinistic tendencies you’ve been displaying of late, Mac.”

“Very kind of you, I’m sure. Yes, it’s definitely Death Valley for you next, Kelly.”

Kelly smothered a smile and changed the subject by asking about the supplies she would need to take on her assignment in Antarctica. For the rest of the meal the conversation was light and impersonal, and by the time she had finished her steak and salad, Kelly was mentally congratulating
herself that she had completely fooled Mac into believing that she was as cheerful as the proverbial lark. Nevertheless, she was grateful when the meal was over.

“That was quite a decent offering, Mac,” she said, folding her napkin and putting it beside her platter. “Now, I’ll act the obedient slavey and clean up these dishes. Then I’ll get to work on my more legitimate duties.”

Mac’s gray eyes narrowed. “The dishes will wait,” he said abruptly. “There’s coffee brewed in the kitchen. Suppose you get it while I build a fire. We’ll move over to the couch and relax a bit.” His gaze was oddly searching. “You can tell me all about Acapulco.”

Kelly could feel a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She should have known she could never fool Mac. Besides being one of the most analytical minds in the business, he knew her too darned well. “A fire in June, Mac?” she asked lightly, moistening her lips nervously. “I really should get to work on that story.” She rose to her feet. “I can tell you about Mexico any time.”

“Go get the coffee, Kelly,” Mac ordered curtly, as he pushed back his own chair and stood up. “This dense fog has made it chilly and cool enough to merit a fire, and I’ve always found a nice blaze is a great way to relax inhibitions and inspire confidences.” His glance was razor sharp as he repeated softly, “Go get the coffee.”

She knew Mac’s obstinate determination too well to question that tone. “Oh, very well.” She sighed and walked toward the kitchen. “Just one cup of coffee and then I go to work.”

When she returned with the teak tray containing the carafe of coffee and two cups and saucers, Mac was sprawled lazily on the burgundy couch before the fire, his legs stretched before him and his gray head resting on its high, cushioned back.

He sat up straighter as Kelly put the tray on the gleaming maple coffee table, then dropped down beside him. But it wasn’t until she had poured their coffee and offered him his cup that he looked up from his absent absorption with the flames. “Thanks, Kelly,” he said. “Waiting
on a man obviously comes easily to you. Perhaps you’re not as liberated as you think.”

“I’m every bit as liberated as I believe I am, Mac Devlin,” Kelly said tartly. After taking a sip of her coffee, she leaned back in one corner of the couch. “But like all modern women, I try to do everything that I attempt with equal efficiency.”

“I see,” Mac said with mock solemnity. He looked down at his coffee cup. Then, softly, he said, “Tell me about Mexico, Kelly.”

“What can I tell
you
about Mexico, Mac?” she asked. “You probably know more about it than I do. Didn’t you tell me you spent three years there as a foreign correspondent?”

He nodded, his lips tightening. “Okay, so don’t tell me about Mexico,” he said flatly. “Tell me about Nick O’Brien instead.”

Kelly inhaled sharply at the sudden thrust of pain that went through her. Trust Mac to go for the jugular. She looked away nervously and took another sip of coffee. “I’d rather not,” she said quietly. “You can read all about him when I finish the story.” She smiled sadly. “I think the average
reader will be positively enthralled by the dashing Mr. O’Brien. He’s quite a colorful character.”

“And were you positively enthralled by him, Kelly?” Mac probed gently, his eyes on her face. “Is that why you’re running scared for the first time in your life?”

That brought her gaze flying back to his face. “I’m not running scared,” she denied hotly. “I’m just trying to follow that wonderful advice you’re always giving me about looking before I leap and the virtues of discretion.”

“You’ve never paid any attention to my words of wisdom before. Why start now?”

“Perhaps I’m growing up at last,” Kelly said, putting her cup and saucer carefully down on the coffee table in front of her. Her hands were annoyingly unsteady, and Mac’s gaze was damnably perceptive. “Why this sudden interest in Nick O’Brien? You’ve never interfered in my personal life before, Mac.”

“I’ve never had to watch you tear yourself apart over a man before. You’ve always flitted on the surface of your relationships in the past.
Why do I feel that this time you’re in way over your head?”

“You seem very well informed.” Kelly moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “How did you know that Nick O’Brien was anything but a story to me?”

“I still have contacts in Mexico, remember? And no one can say that either one of you was trying to keep your association a secret. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t pull you out of Mexico sooner. I didn’t want to be accused of spoiling love’s young dream.”

She closed her eyes against the bittersweet memories that flooded through her, then opened them. “That was a mistake, Mac. I wish that you’d made me come home at once.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You’re right, I was in over my head.”

Mac crashed his cup down on the coffee table. “For God’s sake, Kelly, you haven’t any more sense than a babe in arms! Hell, you knew O’Brien’s reputation even before you met the man. You knew he was a world-class chaser and had no more sexual morals than a tomcat, yet
you fell into his bed like a ripe plum. What the hell were you thinking of?”

“I wasn’t thinking at all,” she said sadly. “I was feeling. I’m in love with him, Mac.” The words were surprisingly hard to get out, but she felt an odd sense of relief once she’d uttered them. She was suddenly no longer so alone in her desolation.

“Then you’re a bigger fool than I imagined possible. You can’t expect a commitment from a man of O’Brien’s stamp. Why on earth did you let yourself become involved?”

Her lips twisted bitterly. “Nick says I have a passion for no-win situations. Perhaps he’s right. You certainly can’t be in a more hopeless position than to be crazy about a man like Nick.” She leaned her head wearily against the high back of the couch. “I knew that all along, but it didn’t help. Nick can be downright irresistible once he puts his mind to it. I didn’t stand a chance.”