His mouth was scowling. His eyes were the color of expensive whiskey, two liquid, shining pools of heat and annoyance, and his hair, an exact match to his eyes, fell over a blue bandanna which had been tied around his forehead. Combined with his unsmiling, and rough and tumble expression, he looked more than just a little dangerous.
At the thought, a completely inappropriate shiver of thrill raced down her spine. Now was not the greatest time to remember that while shed vowed to remain single for the rest of her life, shed never vowed to remain celibate. She had a great appreciation for all things beautiful and finely made. And this man-tall and edgy and frowning as he was-was beautifully and firmly made, a magnificent male specimen, one who seemed to awaken every hormone and nerve ending in her entire body.
But she most definitely did not have a thing for a rebel-at-heart, and it didnt escape her that this man was one-hundred-percent pure attitude.
In light of that, she repeated the same thing she told herself at estate sales, when she saw some spectacular piece of furniture she quivered to own but couldnt afford Walk away. Just walk away. Repeating that mantra, she took a careful step backward, taking one last glimpse to tide her over.
Hard, powerful looking legs were encased in soft, faded denim. His work boots were well worn, with a sole made for the long haul. Shed already noticed his very capable arms and his chest, which was wide, hard and covered in a T-shirt that clung like a second skin to his damp body. He was long and lean, rugged and virile, the way she preferred a man, when she chose to be with one.
But she wasnt choosing now.
Youre still in my way, he said.
Good morning to you, too, Mr. Mackenzie.
He blew out a breath. Mac.
What?
You can call me Mac. Thats my name.
Really? Its not Mr. Attitude?
His lips twitched. I respond better to Mac.
Okay, then. Mac.
He stood there politely enough, andwaited for something. At his raised brow, she realized he was waiting for her to leave.
Too bad he didnt know her better, or hed already know she did only as she pleased, not as expected. I didnt approve for the demo to begin today, she said.
You signed the contract.
Yes, she had. Shed sold her beloved Queen Anne headboard to give him the first payment of many, but shed agreed upon tomorrow. Damn it, she needed today.
Apparently deciding they were done, Mac turned and walked away, moving with the easy, loose-limbed stride of a man who knew the value of patience. With that patience, he hoisted up the sledgehammer and brought it down on the south wall. And then again. His arms strained and stretched, his muscles working in perfect synch, taut and sleek with sweat as he completely ignored her while simultaneously stripping down the wall to the framing.
Unable to help herself, she stared, utterly fascinated by the unrestrained violence of what he was doing. By the hone of that well-built machine that was his body. Umexcuse me?
The sledgehammer continued to rise and fall with amazing regularity. What kind of strength did that entail, she wondered, watching with utter fascination as Macs muscles flexed and flowed. Another shiver wracked her frame, and it had nothing to do with a chill. The room was hot. He was hotand so, suddenly, was she.
Definitely, it had been too long since shed had any sort of physical release besides her handy, dandy, trusty vibrator. Mac?
He never even looked at her, which was a bit disconcerting. Taylor had matured at an early age, her long, gangly body turning into a mans wet dream. In all the years since, shed never failed to turn a head.
And yet she was being completely ignored now. Vexing. So was the cell phone ringing in her pocket. Pulling it out, she put it to one ear, finger in the other to hear over Mac, and yelled, Hello?
I have bad news, said Mrs. Cabot, the owner of a very upscale antique shop in town.
Bad news?
Sledgehammer raised, Mac turned.
Their gazes locked.
It was like a chemical reaction. Unintended. Unavoidable. He had the most amazing eyes, and for the first time in her life, Taylor lost her place in a conversation. Chewing her lower lip, she wracked her brain for working brain cells, but her pulse tripled when Macs gaze dropped from hers, and locked on the movement of her mouth.
This wasnt happening. He wasnt attracted to her. She wasnt attracted to him. That would be bad, very bad, but while shed promised herself to never again engage her heart after the devastating loss shed once suffered, she was no monk.
But even so, sex had become a very fond, distant memory.
She licked her lips, a nervous habit. Again, her contractors gaze flickered downward, becoming hot, focused and filled with frank sexual curiosity.
Oh boy. With sheer will power, she concentrated on her phone conversation. Whats the bad news?
Mac set the sledgehammer on the floor. In deference to her call? No, that would mean he had a considerate streak.
He was probably just done.
Im sorry, Mrs. Cabot said. But you lost your bid on that nineteenth-century chandelier.
Instantly forgetting about Mac, she gripped the phone. What do you mean? Who else bid on the chandelier?
You were outbid by Papers rustled. Isabel W. Craftsman.
Taylor might have guessed. There was only one person in town who would have coveted that piece as much as she had, and that was her own mother.
It only had been Taylors greatest hearts desire to own it, but hey, she figured her mother knew that, too. Her mother was highly educated, incredibly brilliant and had eyes in the back of her head. Bottom line, she knew everything, she always had.
Well, except how to be a mother. Shocking how shed screwed that up, but maybe Taylor was partly to blame. Shed always resented her mothers vicious drive, sharp ambition and ability to multitask everything in her world except when it came to her own daughters.
When Taylor had graduated from college and had moved out of the house, shed decided to be the grown-up and let it all go. Shed told her mother so, saying shed forgiven her for all the missed events, the forgotten birthdays, the lack of any physical attention whatsoever. She didnt know what she expected, but it hadnt been to be cut off by her mothers cell phone. Her mother had held up a hand to Taylor, answered the call, dealt with some business problem, then absently kissed the air somewhere near Taylors cheek and walked away.
Having completely forgotten they were in the middle of an important conversation.
After standing there in seething resentment, Taylor had shrugged and moved on. Shed had to. Not every mother was cut out to be a warm, fuzzy type, and she needed to get over it.
Then a few years ago Isabel had done the unthinkable, shed gotten married again, and had dropped everything for one equally ambitious, equally cold-blooded Dr. Edward Craftsman, brain surgeon. Taylor had gone to the wedding, and if she hadnt seen it with her own eyes, she would never have believed it.
Her mother lived for this man, gushing all over him. Constantly. Kissing, hugging, leaning, more kissing.
It burned just thinking about it. So did her mother buying this chandelier from beneath her. Thank you, Taylor said into the phone. And as if it were no skin off her nose, she dropped the phone back into her pocket. Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Shed wanted that chandelier with a ridiculous passion. Served her right, wanting something so badly. Hadnt she learned that nothing, nothing at all, was worth the heartache?
She had other things to worry about. Like she had a building in disrepair, and a man was reminding her of things far better forgotten.
Mac had tossed the sledgehammer aside, but he hadnt been idle. There was now a shovel in his hand and he was loading debris into a wheelbarrow with the same narrow-minded intensity hed swung his sledgehammer.
Eyes narrowed, she set her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. We never solved the problem of why youre here a day early.
He kept loading until the wheelbarrow was full to bursting. Slowly he straightened, then eyed her with that light brown gaze, completely inscrutable now, without a trace of that intense sexual speculation.
Had she only imagined it?
I didnt think twenty-four hours would make any difference to you, he said. Tossing the shovel aside, he grasped the handles of the wheelbarrow and lifted. Muscles strained. Tendons corded.
Taylor tore her gaze away. I needed this last day before the hell of the next three months of construction and renovation. Youve ruined it.
He swiped a forearm across his forehead, looking tired, sweaty and temperamental. I think that phone call ruined it.
Deep within her, a pesky lone hormone quivered. Id really like you to go and come back tomorrow.
That got his attention. Youre kidding, right?
No.
You need to be alone bad enough to disrupt the start of your own renovation?
I do, yes.
Fine. Dropping the wheelbarrow, he propped his hands on his hips. Have your way, Princess. Tomorrow it is, but dont even think about pulling this again. Im not going to postpone this job further, no matter what kind of day youre having.
Princess? Had he just called her Princess? Shed show him princess! Reaching up, she yanked off her wide-brimmed hat, which once upon a time had cost her-make that her grandfather-a bundle. Shed die before explaining that her fair skin required she protect it from the harsh summer sun, especially since he seemed like a man to mock such a weakness. Tomorrow will be just fine, she said through her teeth, hat in her fist.
Mac stretched his shoulders, which put a strain on his T-shirt, not that she was noticing, and rubbed his eyes. Good. Im outta here. But since I am, and since steam is still coming out your ears, why dont you do both of us a favor. Retrieving the sledgehammer, he held it out. Start pounding walls. Consider it anger management.
She stared down at the tool, having never in her life so much as lifted a screwdriver. She might have blamed her uptight, pretentious family for that, though shed been on her own for awhile now, and could have made the effort to learn such things.