“Yes,” she said, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the tears pooling behind her
lids.
She was lying. All it had done was open up a whole new well of need. Exposed a chasm
that she’d been doing such a good job of ignoring.
She tried to pull up images of Daniel. Words he’d said. Things that had hurt her and
diminished her. Something to remind her of why she needed to keep the feelings out
of it. Something to hold them at bay.
But she couldn’t. Because with Mac she was too far removed from that woman. She couldn’t,
for one moment, believe any of her ex’s insults anymore, and it stole all of their
power and vitality away from them.
She wasn’t afraid of the memories. And they didn’t hurt, not like they’d hurt at the
time. Not even like it had hurt to remember them a few weeks ago.
It turned out hot, sweaty sex, could effectively knock off some pretty heavy chains.
It was hard to find boundaries when your current lover was a live-in housekeeper.
Mac didn’t particularly want to send Lucy back to her little house every night. He
wanted her to stay in his bed. But that would get tricky. Seeing as it was her job
to get up early and make breakfast, pack his lunch and otherwise do a lot of things
that a woman he was in a serious relationship with might do.
Or what he assumed they might do.
He’d never had a real, serious relationship. Some long-term casual dating of the same
woman, yes. But he didn’t have women come into his house and cook for him. Do his
laundry. For heaven’s sake, the woman he was sleeping with was handling his dirty
socks.
There was a whole level of intimate there that he’d never arrived at with another
woman, and it had happened with Lucy by default.
Which meant that her going back to her house at some point in the night was necessary.
It was on the same property, yes, but it added some boundaries. That way, when she
got out of bed in the morning, she was coming to work to make him breakfast. Not rolling
out of bed to make breakfast for her lover.
Boundaries.
Mac looked up from the log he was getting ready to split and watched Lucy walk up
the porch steps and into the house. And he watched her ass in those tight black pants
she was wearing.
Boundaries. Freaking, stupid boundaries.
She was working, which meant going into the house to instigate a little bit of foreplay
would be a violation of those boundaries. It was part of the unspoken rules they’d
slowly sunk into over the past two weeks.
Lucy slept in her house, and when she was working, they hardly spoke. Then, at dinner,
the rules started to relax. They ate together, talked. Then Lucy did the dishes. Sometimes
he did them because, since dinner was more relaxed, the moments after always felt
like a gray area in terms of Lucy’s responsibilities.
Then, after that, they went upstairs to his room, and all professionalism and boundaries
ceased to exist. So did clothes. There was just the two of them and a day’s worth
of tension to burn off. Sometimes it required half the night to burn through it. And
they used half the night if necessary.
They were both a little sleep-deprived.
But it was worth it. He brought the ax down on the top of the log, putting his sexual
frustration into the motion. Because it was the only way he was burning through anything
in the next few hours. All he could do was exhaust himself.
Although he needed a break. Definitely. He set the ax down and stripped his shirt
off, using the fabric to wipe the sweat off his chest. He slung it over his shoulder
and headed down toward the house. Surely Lucy would have some lemonade or iced tea
for him. Which was all he wanted from her. Honest.
He pushed the front door open and walked in. Lucy was dusting. It was very domestic
and weirdly sexy all at the same time, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to
do with the onslaught of feelings that tumbled down on his head.
“Hi,” he said.
Lucy turned, eyes widening. She was good for his ego. “Hi yourself.”
“I’m thirsty. I was wondering if there was anything to drink?”
“Lemonade,” she said, turning back to her dusting.
He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, a completely surreal feeling shrouding
him in a fog. Even without kissing there was some weird domestic vortex that seemed
to be surrounding them both.
Strange, because it wasn’t something he’d ever had, and yet he recognized it. And
a strange part of him wanted it. Which was even weirder because he knew that this
was a lie. This kind of quiet, sweet union. And forget one existing that could be
this companionable and also be filled with crazy hold-on-to-your-hat sex. Nope. Wasn’t
possible.
Of course, there were Lucas and Carly. Mac didn’t know about their sex life, and he
didn’t want to, but he knew they were happy. So happy it made his gut hurt to look
at them. He was happy for Carly. Thrilled for his sister, and for his best friend,
that they’d found some happiness after having had such tough childhoods.
But they were two in a million. That kind of thing just wasn’t out there for him.
Especially not with Lucy.
“What do you want for dinner?” she asked.
He froze. That sounded like a wife question. Not a housekeeper question. Which was
stupid, because it was her job to cook for him. But the lines were so blurred and
the boundaries just weren’t helping right that second.
“I thought I might go out,” he said—not a lie, because he was thinking he might right
now.
“Oh.” He could tell by the tone of that single syllable that she wasn’t very happy
about it. But that was too bad. They weren’t in a domestic partnership, not matter
how things might feel. And that meant he could go out if he wanted to.
“That frees you up tonight,” he said. “You can work on more plans for Carly’s deal.”
“The fund-raiser for the school district,” she said, her tone waspish.
“Right, the fund-raiser. Well, you can work on that.”
“Great. I will. When do you think you’ll be back?”
“Late.” He was shooting himself in the foot and he knew it. Pushing himself straight
into a cold, womanless bed for the evening. Because he was being an ass and he knew
it. But he also needed to remind her, and himself, what this was.
He wasn’t accountable to her. She wasn’t accountable to him. They were just having
sex. That hot, sweaty sex they both needed.
Of course, he wouldn’t be having it tonight, but he was doing his part to maintain
the status quo.
“Late late?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Great. Well.” She set down her dust cloth. “I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.
I’m going to go work on
Carly’s thing
,” she said, the phrase dripping with disdain.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not able to leave things quite so bad. “I didn’t mean to minimize
it.” Especially since that was what her ex had done. All the time.
She nodded. “I know. Thanks.”
“See you.”
“Yeah.”
Lucy turned and walked out, and Mac waited for a feeling of right to settle over him.
For a sense of accomplishment to hit. He had done what needed to be done. If only
he felt more triumphant. He just sort of felt like a douche. A douche who was going
to bed alone tonight.
***
Lucy tried to ignore the hurt that had lodged itself down deep in her chest. But it
was hard to ignore because it just… hurt.
She could sense when the tide had turned in the house earlier. It was when she’d asked
what he’d wanted for dinner. And suddenly he’d gotten this frozen, wide-eyed look,
like a buck in the headlights. And then he’d said he was going out.
She snorted and flipped open the notebook she was using to keep track of her expenses
for the barbecue. Thankfully, Carly had managed to get the PTA and the city council
on board with the concept, and now it was just a matter of making it all work.
Using an outdoor venue, one that was being provided free of charge by one of the student’s
parents, went a long way in reducing costs. But they were still going from an exclusive
formal affair to an inclusive event that was still supposed to maintain an element
of luxury.
No big deal.
Yes, thinking about this was way better than thinking about Mac and his attitude problem.
She didn’t care about Mac like that anyway. She was just disappointed because sleeping
with him was the highlight of her day. She’d found out she liked sex a lot more than
she’d thought she had.
And she refused to feel bad about it. With Mac, she got everything she wanted without
having to risk anything. If only the lead weight in her chest agreed with that.
She scowled and picked up the phone that was installed out in her house. One day,
when circumstances improved, she would get a computer for her event planning, and
a cell phone.
She paused. Was she really thinking about a career? A future? She smiled in spite
of the hurt feelings. Because she was. She had a goal. One that went past survival.
It felt like a huge step.
She sighed and dialed Sarah’s number. The other woman had become her sounding board,
and even though she was sure she shocked her prim friend now and again, she was also
sure it was good for her. Everyone needed to be shocked sometimes. Mac managed to
shock her every night.
“Hello?” Sarah picked up on the first ring, something Sarah often did, since she seemed
to always be at home in the evenings.
“Why aren’t you out?” Lucy asked.
“Nowhere to go. What’s up, Lucy?”
“Nothing. Something. I think I’m messing things up with Mac.”
“How?”
“I think I might feel something for him.”
“And that’s bad?”
“Yes. It’s very bad. It’s not what either of us wants. I want to get over this thing
with my ex and find a real job and some independence. I need to figure out who I am.”
“And you want to be happy?” Sarah asked.
“Well, yes. Who doesn’t?”
“So, what will make you happy?”
She sighed. “I’m afraid to try for happy.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know if I’ve ever really had it. I’m afraid to want it because if
I do… if I do and I can’t have it…”
“What makes you happy?”
“Mac does.”
“You were the one who told me a woman should go for what she wants. You’re kind of
my hero, Lucy. You fought your way out of a horrible situation; you’ve fought to get
back on your feet on your own terms. To find out who you are apart from what that…
that horrible man you were married to said you were. Don’t stop fighting now.”
Lucy swallowed hard. “I think I love him.”
“I know,” Sarah said.
“And if he doesn’t love me back?”
“He’s an idiot. He should love you back. He should be beyond happy and honored that
he has you.”
“It wasn’t supposed to get this complicated.”
“I know. Why should you be happy with okay? Why not go for great?”
Lucy chewed her lip. “I have nothing left to teach you, grasshopper. You’ve become
the master.”
Sarah laughed. “Not really. It’s a lot easier to say than it is to do.”
“So, let’s both do it. Let’s both shoot for amazing. How about that?”
“I… yes. Yeah. I think… that’s a good idea. Let’s do that.”
“Then it’s a deal. No more okay for either of us. We both deserve more.”
***
“It’s not that late, Mac. I think you’re becoming a lightweight in your old age.”
Mac stopped in the doorway, his hand paused on the light switch. He could see Lucy’s
silhouette, see where she was sitting on the couch. He turned the light on, and his
breath caught.
She was wearing a red dress. Red lipstick. She looked… out of his league. She
looked like the woman he’d imagined she’d grow up to be. Confident. Cool. Sophisticated
and sexy all at the same time.
She definitely didn’t look like the kind of woman who should be working for him. She
didn’t look like the kind of woman he could ever hope to hold on to.
“I have to get up early,” he said. It was a lame response, but there wasn’t enough
blood left in his brain to help him come up with a better one.
“Well, that’s too bad. Maybe I should let you go to bed then?”
“No,” he said. “No.” Because he’d come to some kind of conclusion while he’d been
out at that stupid bar. He didn’t know where the conclusion would lead him, but it
was there nonetheless.
A blonde had bought him a drink. And then she’d come over to make conversation. And
she’d made it very clear that with little effort on his part, the two of them could
have ended up, if not in bed, horizontal in the cab of his pickup truck.
But he hadn’t been tempted. Not even a little. Because all he could do was obsess
about Lucy and the issues from earlier. And about how much he wanted her to be in
his bed tonight. The idea of sex didn’t seem that appealing when the woman wasn’t
Lucy. And that was almost unheard-of.
He was faithful to the women he dated, always. But if a random woman flirted with
him while he was out, he turned her down with a little feeling of wistfulness. There
had been no wistfulness tonight. Nothing but the desire to get back home and fix things
with Lucy.
For whatever reason, she was the only woman he wanted right now. So that meant, until
that changed, he intended to keep her as close as possible.
“If you don’t want to go to bed, what do you want to do?” She draped her arms over
the back of the couch, thrusting her breasts into prominence.
“I have a feeling you have something in mind?”
A half smile quirked her cherry-red lips. “Why yes. Yes I do. Take off your shirt.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice. He tugged his t-shirt over his head and stood in
front of her, waiting for his next command.
“Boots. Pants. Underwear. I want you naked,” she said.
“Oh, Lucy, you really are the perfect woman,” he said, working to comply with her
wishes.
“Not perfect,” she said, standing up. “But not as bad as some people have made me
out to be.”
“You seem like a pretty bad girl to me,” he said.
Dark eyebrows shot up. “Do I?” She sounded intrigued by the thought.
“Right now? Oh yeah.”
“You like bad girls?” she asked.
“Hell yeah.” Her eyes flickered down to where his cock was unashamedly announcing
just how much he did.
“I spent an awfully long time being good. Sit down.”
He took a seat on the couch, obeying her command. A little turned on by it.
“And I think being good is highly overrated,” she continued. “Highly.” She reached
around behind her and tugged on her zipper, her dress loosening, falling down to her
waist, revealing her lacy, red bra that did nothing to conceal the dark shadow of
her nipples beneath.
“You won’t get an argument from me.”
She pushed her dress down her hips, and then it was just her in a red bra, panties
and black stilettos. His mouth went dry, his stomach muscles so tight they hurt.