5
TAYLOR DREW A DEEP BREATH as she stepped into the hot, hot summer night, refusing to react. If she remained numb, then she wouldnt feel her burning throat and eyes, or the ache in her chest. If she remained numb, she wouldnt feel the fist around her heart, squeezing, squeezing.
It wasnt just the pettiness that upset her, or that shed thought of those women as friends.
She didnt care about them. She didnt care what they thought.
It simply all came back to that alone thing. And she felt so damn alone. Ironic, when she considered her own mother had been inside the party. Oh, theyd kissed hello, air kisses of course, not daring to wrinkle their clothes with a hug. Theyd smiled and had made light conversation.
How are you?
Fine, thanks.
Oh, good. You look great.
Surface stuff that meant nothing.
The night was hot, the air thick with the humidity that hadnt faded from the heat of the day, but that was good. She needed the warmth after the chill of the past hour.
The noises of the party followed her onto the veranda as she walked to the railing and looked down onto the gardens that were considered the most beautiful in all of South Village.
They were stunning, lovingly tended to by generous Historic Society volunteers. Volunteers not afraid of getting their hands dirty or their silk wrinkled.
Which meant a Wellington had never gotten on their knees and so much as pulled a weed in those gardens, including Taylor. Oh sure, shed volunteered in other ways, by attending expensive charity functions and writing big, fat checks backed by her grandfather.
What kind of woman did that, got to the age of twenty-seven completely supported by someone elses money? She deserved the pity shed gotten from those women tonight, but not for the reasons they thought.
Shed never actually worked hard at anything.
Until now.
Leaning on the railing, she rubbed her temples, shedding her tough shell and half her makeup by swiping beneath her damp eyes. Poor little rich girl, she thought with loathing for the moment of self-pity.
Ex-rich girl.
Was it so odd that shed wanted something from her own mother tonight, after all this time? A real hug? A real smile? Even a real touch? She shouldnt have bothered coming, should have stayed home.
At the thought of what awaited her there, an empty building stripped down to the studs and a stack of bills so high it made her head spin, her eyes filled again.
God, she felt so alone. So damn alone.
Taylor.
At the low, gruff voice she was beginning to know all too well, she stilled. He had a terrible habit of coming up on her in the most vulnerable of moments. Go away.
Yeah, about that.
She heard his footsteps. Coming closer, damn him. Mac-
Youd like me to vanish, I know. And believe me, Id like that, too.
In direct opposition to those words, he came even closer. Then closer still, until he set a lean hip against the railing, facing her, his chest brushing her shoulder as he stared down at her while she did her best impression of someone desperately interested in the flowers.
I wanted to leave before I even got here, he said.
So whats holding you? She wouldnt look at him, couldnt. No one saw her vulnerable and lived. She didnt care how big he was, how warm- Oh God, he was warm. Heat radiated off him, and despite the hot, sticky night, she wanted more of it.
The need alone made her eyes sting all over again, and released a few of the tears she couldnt blink back. And then, because shed been holding her breath, she gave herself away with one horrifyingly obvious sniff.
Ah, hell, he muttered. His big hands settled on her bare upper arms as he turned her to face him, and for the life of her, she couldnt look away. Whats going on? he asked.
What was going on? Only everything.
Princess?
Suddenly his pet name for her didnt seem like an insult, not when uttered in the husky, slightly rough voice that was far softer than she imagined he could ever be. Unable to talk without making a bigger fool of herself, she just shook her head.
Princess?
Suddenly his pet name for her didnt seem like an insult, not when uttered in the husky, slightly rough voice that was far softer than she imagined he could ever be. Unable to talk without making a bigger fool of herself, she just shook her head.
With the rough pad of his thumb, he stroked a tear off her cheek. She hadnt worn waterproof mascara, so she probably looked like a raccoon, but even more worrisome than that was the way she reacted to his touch. His thumb continued to make lazy passes over her cheek, his other fingers sank into her hair, and she stood there fighting the most insidious need to sob her heart out.
Silent and strong, he waited, not rushing her, not freaking out because she was crying, not doing anything but waiting patiently for her to pull herself together.
And suddenly she didnt want to pull herself together, she wanted to bury her face against his shoulder and let go. It was humiliating, appalling, and as if he could read her mind, he made a low, soft sound of empathy in his throat that completely undid her.
Everything they said was true, she whispered. I grew up a spoiled brat. She waited for some sort of recrimination but he said nothing.
His fingers on her temple were the most soothing touches shed ever felt. And maybe because of it, or maybe because it was the dark, her mouth ran away with her good sense and she spilled it all. My familywere not close. I dont know why really, were justdifferent from one another I guess.
Not every family is super tight.
Were not even in the realm of tight. Growing up, I was given the fanciest education. On Grandfathers money. Every few years or so hed come around and see how his investment was doing, but other than that, we didnt have much contact. I always thought it was because I disappointed him somehow. Or that he just didnt have much sentiment in him, but he seemed to enjoy my sisters company.
Taylor-
No. Not wanting his pity, please God, not his pity, she didnt look at him. You know what? Just forget it.
You started it, finish it.
It was amazing how private the veranda was for how many people were just inside. Maybe nobody but the two of them dared the evening heat and humidity.
Mac didnt mention it one way or another, he seemed focused on her, and only her, and having that much man, all tall, gorgeous and listening to her, really listening, waswell, a fairly intense experience. My grandfather died, she said to the night. And the will was ratherinteresting.
How interesting?
Well, for one thing, he left me the building youre working on.
Its a beauty.
Oh yes, she agreed. And a money pit.
He nodded.
Hetook away the funds that had always been available to me. Every penny. Gave it all to my mother knowing shed never share. She closed her eyes and admitted the last painful truth. Leaving me flat broke.
Why wouldnt your mother share?
Shes been saving for a rainy day all her life, shesfrugal. She let out a harsh laugh. The richest frugal person youll ever meet.
What about your dad?
Hes remarried. Lives in Europe, and I dont see him very often.
They were talking about your mother as if she were there tonight.
She was, she said. Shes Isabel Craftsman.
Macs eyes widened. The mayor?
The one and only.
So youre one of those Wellingtons.
That would be me. One of those Wellingtons. It usually went one of two ways from here. Either the person would stare at her in awe, because her mother, cold and precise as she was, had done excellent things for the city, or the person would sneer, because lets face it, her mother hadnt gotten to where she was by making friends.
But Mac looked neither awed nor disgusted. You really cant go to her if you need help?
I could, but
You wont, he finished for her, his eyes filling with something she hadnt seen from him before. Respect. What about your sisters?
Like I said, were not that close.
The building is worth a fortune.
If I sold it. She opened her eyes and with fierce determination said, Which Im not doing. Im not walking away from this. Im not like them, Mac, those women in there, Im not going to be like them if it kills me.
Youre not anything like them, he agreed.
Shed wanted someone on her side tonight, shed wanted blind comfort, and this man, her virtual opposite, the thorn in her side, was offering it.
No one had done such a thing for her since Jeff.
Just the thought of him now, with Mac right there, felt like a betrayal to his memory, a stab to her al ready wounded heart, but Mac was throwing her, re acting the way shed expect Suzanne to react. A friend. A girlfriend.
Not a man.
But she didnt need him to react this way. Shed learned to depend on no one but herself. She was all she needed, shed always simply comforted herself, and-
Mac continued to stand there when she sniffed again, not running, not reacting to her tears with his own reasoning.
He simply opened his arms.
And she stepped right into them. Stepped into them and steeped herself in his giving heat and overwhelming strength. Then she did as shed wanted to, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling the scent of wood, soap and one-hundred-percent man.
Sinking his fingers into her hair, he lifted her face so he could look into it. She looked back, at the chiseled angle of his jaw, his slightly curved lips, his light golden eyes as they ran over her face before locking on hers.
Taylor felt the jolt of his gaze all the way to her toes. She didnt know how it was possible, but in his arms her problems seemed to fade away, chased by equal parts awareness and a morbid excitement she couldnt, wouldnt, deny. Winding her arms around his neck, she pressed a little closer, absorbing the helpless growl of awareness that rumbled up from Macs chest.
A matching awareness combined with a heady female power that sizzled through her, because he felt it, too, whether he wanted to or not, he felt it, too. Proving it, his hands tightened on her, skimmed down her back, then slowly back up again, chasing any lingering chill with a blooming desire she hadnt expected or wanted but wouldnt deny. Umthis might be a good time for you to tell me youre married, she said. Or something.