“Can you get me something to eat?”
he asked Merry.
“Of course, Mr. O’Brien. Won’t take me a moment, and I’ll have something hot and delicious waiting for you on the kitchen table.”
“Do you have any chocolate chip cookies?” he asked, slumping into a chair before the fireplace.
“Why, of course I do. You just sit and relax a spell. When the food’s ready, we’ll discuss what’s troubling you.”
“There’s nothing troubling me, Merry. In fact, life couldn’t be better.”
Merry’s eyes twinkled. “Well, my word, Mr. O’Brien. That’s absolutely wonderful. You just close your eyes now and think pleasant thoughts.” She bustled into the kitchen, humming a medley of Christmas tunes. Mac took a deep breath and smelled cinnamon and apple cider. He’d grown to love their scent. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the chair.
He thought about his first meeting with Kathleen, the way she stood in the doorway of his office in that navy blue suit with a misplaced gold button. He smiled at the thought of her cool, damp palm, the only time he remembered her nervous or at a loss for words. He remembered that moment as though it had happened
just yesterday. H
e particularly remembered her eyes, the way she looked up at him with a
mixture of longing and awe. And
in the next moment, spunk and intelligence. Had that been the moment he’d fallen in love?
“Excuse me, Mr. O’Brien.” Merry’s hand rested on his shoulder. “Your lunch is ready. You must not have heard me calling.”
“My thoughts were miles away.”
“With the woman you left at McKenna House?”
Mac nodded, all his emotion clearly written on the smile he wore. “Yes. I need to hurry back.”
“Then you’d better run along and eat. I’ve got a piping hot lunch on the table.”
“Will you join me?”
“My, my, my, young man. I can’t be by your side all the time. I have dusting to do.” She shooed him toward the kitchen with her feather duster.
When Mac pushed open the swinging doors, the aroma of fresh-baked bread and cookies assailed him. A bowl of potato-cheese soup steamed on the table alongside a plate of thickly sliced, crusty white bread and a cube of butter. A glass of milk sat on the other side, and in the center of the table lay a tray of chocolate chip cookies. A feast for a starving man, Mac thought. Starving for the love of Kathleen.
He sat down and dipped his soup spoon into the bowl, blowing on the steaming potatoes and cream. His elbows rested on the table, something he had never been allowed to do as a child at home. He tested his first mouthful, savoring the taste. Hot soup, warm buttered bread, chocolate chip cookies, and thoughts of Kathleen, things to soothe a man’s soul.
He stared into his bowl while he ate and again thought back to days long since gone.
“Miss Tate and I are going to Europe for a year,” he
’d
told
Kathleen one evening
.
Kathleen had looked at him with those big blue eyes that made him melt every time she came near. He hadn’t wanted to go to Europe, he hadn’t wanted to leave Kathleen and the working relationship they had built over the years. But he had to. Ashley had accused him of being infatuated with the girl. She had hit it dead on the nose. But it had been more than infatuation. He and Kathleen argued about everything f
rom politics to women’s rights
to the color of the sky. If he said it was blue, she said it was azure. She made him come alive.
S
he still did.
He dug into the soup and anxiously anticipated seeing her again in just a few hours, longing to see once again those azure eyes.
oOo
Mac opened the door and peered into the darkened
guest
room
Kathleen had been given during her stay
. His mother had told him she had pulled the drapes earlier that afternoon when she peeked into the room and found Kathleen still asleep. It wasn’t common practice for her guests to sleep so late. But she had heard the exchange between her son and the two women during the night, had watched her son drive away with Ashley, hoping she would never see that skinny blonde again. She was more than happy to let the feisty
auburn beauty
sleep the day away.
He stepped into the room, instantly comforted by the quiet, the peace. Kathleen lay on the bed, the summer-weight comforter pulled up to her chest. Her hair fanned out over the lace-edged pillowcase, a few wisps lying over her nose and mouth. He gently moved the hair away from her face, listened to her soft breathing, watched the movement of her eyes beneath closed lids. He bent over and touched her lips with his own. She didn’t stir, not an inch.
His eyelids grew heavy. The bed looked inviting, partially because he was drop-dead tired, partially because Kathleen slept in its midst. He slipped off his shoes and socks, removed his shirt, and lay down beside her on top of the comforter. Lifting her hair to make room for his head on the pillow, he caressed the silky strands that slipped through his fingers. Without waking, Kathleen rolled onto her side, facing away from him. With one arm under the pillow, he draped the other over her ribs, carefully avoiding the breasts he longed to touch. He breathed deeply, trying to recognize the scent in her hair, the remnants of perfume behind her ear. Oh, dear Lord, he whispered, let me always lay at her side. He moved as close to her as the bedclothes would allow, closed his eyes, and slept.
Kathleen woke to the soft, resonant breathing near her ear. A warm, heavy arm lay across her, the long, sturdy fingers sprinkled with light golden hair intertwined with hers. She turned her head to look into the face of the man who lay beside her. Her head pounded, her body ached, but at that moment, everything seemed perfect. She rolled over in his arms and felt his fingers tighten when she lightly kissed his eyelids. His eyes opened slowly. “I’m glad you’re back,” she whispered.
He pulled her closer, gently outlining her lips with the tips of his index and middle fingers. His lips lightly touched hers, and he sucked in his breath when he felt the warm softness of her skin. He abandoned her mouth and found her ear, nibbling on the smooth skin of her lobe. She was so hot, so close.
She wanted to push him away, to tell him she ached from head to toe, but she didn’t want to break the spell, didn’t want him to take his lips away from all those places on her body that burned, not only with fever, but with desire. Instead, she spread her fingers out across the muscles of his warm, smooth back, memorizing his shoulder blades, the indentation of his spine, a mole at his waist.
“I think we slept the day away,” she whispered into his ear when he sat up and allowed her to move out of his grasp.
“Must have. Are you hungry?”
Kathleen’s stomach churned. She sat up for only a moment, shook her head, then lay back against the cool pillows.
“I’m starved. Mind if I get something to eat?”
“Go right ahead. But I have no intention of getting out of this bed.”
“I’ll raid the refrigerator and bring up a tray.” He stole a parting kiss and bounded out of bed.
He took a quick look at himself in the mirror and smoothed back his hair. “God, I look awful.”
Kathleen laughed. “That’s supposed to be my line.”
He glanced fondly at the woman lying in the bed. “Let me assure you, Kath. You’re a feast for the eyes.”
oOo
“Are you decent?” Mac asked, peeking around the door.
Kathleen sat cross-legged on the bed in an overly large chenille robe she had found hanging in the closet. “I think so,” she answered.
“I was hoping you’d say no.” He pushed through the door, then shoved it closed with his foot. In his hands he held a tray laden with goodies from the kitchen—fried chicken and chocolate cake, potato salad, milk, a Diet Coke, and cold shrimp and lobster left over from Friday night’s celebration.
“Umm, doesn’t this look wonderful.” He set the tray on the bed, climbed up beside Kathleen, and grabbed a cold drumstick. “Maggie makes the best fried chicken. Care for a bite?” He held the drumstick out to Kathleen.
“No, thanks.” She sighed, feeling as though she had turned ten shades of green.
“Is Ashley gone?” she asked.
He nodded and smiled.
“You’re positive?”
“Positive.”
Mac studied Kathleen’s face. Her color had disappeared, the hair at her temples was damp and clung to her face. He put his palm to her forehead. “You’re sick. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I hate to be sick. I don’t like to be a burden.”
He dropped the drumstick onto the tray, wiped his hands, and pulled her into his arms, smoothing the hair away from her face. “Do you want to go home?”
“Would you mind taking me? I know it’s a long drive and you wanted to spend the weekend here.”
“Shh.” He placed his index finger to her lips and shook his head. “I’d do anything for you.”
Kathleen slept from the time they left the grounds of McKenna House until Mac pulled to a stop in front of her building. He helped her out of the car and watched her lean against it while he got her suitcases out of the trunk. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you up to bed.”
“I can make it on my own. I know you want to get home.”
“I’m not leaving you
r side. Besides, who said I wanted to go home? I’d rather be with you.”
“But I look awful.”
“You look beautiful. Now, move. The sooner you’re in bed, the better you’ll feel.”
Mac unlocked the outside door and ushered Kathleen into the lobby. He stopped before the elevator door, posted with an
OUT OF ORDER
sign.
“Damn!” He set the suitcases on the floor. “Which floor are you on?”
“Fifth.”
“I haven’t exercised in weeks, so bear with me and promise not to laugh if I have to stop a time or two to catch my breath.”
“What are you talking about?” Kathleen asked, hanging on to his arm.
He didn’t answer, just put one hand under her knees, the other around her back, and swung her into his arms. “You’re a lightweight, kiddo, even if you are nearly six feet tall.”
“Put me down.”
“Not until we climb all five flights. I need to prove to myself that I’m not an old man.”
“You’re not an old man, okay? Now, put me down.”
“Hush. I’ll put you down in bed, not a second sooner.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“You’ve been a great teacher. Now, close your eyes and be still while I huff and puff up the stairs.”
Kathleen laid her head against his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. His heart beat rapidly as he neared the top. She lost count of the steps Mac had climbed when she reached forty-nine, one for each of his years. He’s far from old, she thought, her fingers absently playing with the well-manicured hair at the back of his head. She listened to his breathing, slow, even, as though climbing the stairs with her in his arms came naturally.
He reached the fifth-floor landing, only a little out of breath. He liked the feel of holding her this way, caring for her. He wanted to do it forever.
They heard the ding of the elevator just as Mac stuck the key in the lock of her door. The elevator doors slid open and a repairman stepped into the lobby. “Hello, folks. Hope I didn’t inconvenience you none. The elevator’s been fixed for . . . let me see.” He looked at his watch. “Geez, guess I’ve had it fixed for at least half an hour now. Forgot to take down the sign before I stopped off to visit a friend on the sixth floor. Well, I’ll let you get inside. I’m just checking to make sure it stops on all the floors. Good night now,” he said as the doors closed once again and they listened to the hum of the elevator’s descent.
Mac looked at Kathleen with a grin. “Hell. I would have carried you anyway.” He laughed as he flipped on the light switch just inside Kathleen’s door.
“Which way to the bedroom?”
“I’m fine, Mac. Please let me down here.”
“I told you I’m not letting go till you’re in bed. No arguments. Which way?”
“Down the hall, second door on the right.”
Mac closed the door and walked down the hall, turning the light on when he reached Kathleen’s bedroom. “Now I see why you didn’t want me in here.”
“What?” Kathleen opened her eyes and saw the disaster she had left behind the day before. “I suppose I never told you I hate housecleaning.”
“Never mentioned a word about it. Of course, I never would have guessed,” he teased.
“Put me down, please.”
“Well, ma’am. Guess I don’t have much choice. I don’t see a clean spot anywhere on that bed of yours.”
In spite of her weakness, Kathleen managed to jab him in the chest with her elbow as he set her on the floor. “Stop teasing. I suppose you don’t have any faults?”
“They’re too numerous to mention.” He removed his arm, which supported Kathleen, but no sooner had he let go than she wilted, her legs unable to support her. Mac gathered her against him in one arm, grabbed the edge of the bedspread with his free hand, and pulled it off the bed, along with the array of clothing scattered on top.