Enchanted (29 page)

“Should we see if it looks as good inside as it does out?” she asked.

“Let’s go.”

They exited the vehicle and met at the cobblestone walk. Hand in hand, slowly, somewhat apprehensive, they walked to the entryway. He put the key in the lock, turned the knob, and pushed the door open to be greeted by a sight straight out of a storybook. A massive rock fireplace, with logs stacked inside as though a fire might be needed. Overstuffed chairs one could get lost in. Hand-carved wooden knickknacks painted with colorful scrolls, leaves, and hearts lined the shelves. An adult-size rocking horse stood in a comer, its face beckoning for a rider. And a ladder to the loft where a bed could be seen, piled with pillows and covered with a thick, downy comforter.

“Heaven has just gotten better,” Kathleen whispered, her eyes wide and sparkling. “How did you find this?”

“My housekeeper. She seems to have a knack for such things.”

“Oh, Mac. Thank her for me when you go home. This is wonderful.”

“I may never go home,” he said with a sly grin, then watched Kathleen roam the room, her slender fingers lightly touching the ceramic candlesticks on the table covered with a white linen cloth. She went to the mantel, picking up a small silver frame.

“Isn’t this cute? Someone put a picture of Santa Claus in this one.”

Mac chuckled. “Maybe he lives here.”

She flashed him a hypnotic, laughing smile that caused his heart to race, made his manhood come alive. He needed fresh air, needed to escape before he threw her down on the floor and possessed her completely.

“I’ll get the bags from the car while you explore.” He nearly ran from the house, stood outside and took a deep breath, letting the aroma of pine fill his senses. Hell. He was acting like a teenager, losing control at the site of a beautiful woman. He heard her humming inside the cottage, heard her boots moving lightly across the hardwood floor. Would he ever get enough of her? Would there ever come a time when he wouldn’t want to touch her, hold her, lay with her?

He went to the car, opened the trunk, and removed two overnight bags and the wicker basket Merry had packed for their weekend alone. He gave no thought at all to the contents of the basket, but let his mind drift to what might be inside Kathleen’s case. Silk. Lace. He remembered the panties he had tried so hard not to look at that night he removed her clothes. Pale pink with lace edging. A woman of contrasts. The hard exterior she presented at work. The unsophisticated beauty in blue jeans and cowboy bo
ots. The woman from the Plaza. All s
o very different, yet somehow the same. Oh, how he longed to strip her of the clothes and hold in his arms the alluring woman whose tantalizing smile and captivating voice fascinated him, bewitched him.

Kathleen opened the door. Mac seemed to have been gone for hours instead of just minutes, but she hated letting him out of her sight. He walked toward her, arms laden with bags and basket. A gust of wind stirred the pine needles, and a dark shadow pushed away the sunlight that had streamed down on the cottage. A drop of rain fell on her nose, then the clouds let forth an unexpected burst of rain.

Mac ran for shelter, and Kathleen closed the door behind them, barely escaping the downpour,

“Looks like we may get to take advantage of those logs in the fireplace,” Mac said, dropping the bags and carrying the basket to the bar that separated the small kitchen from the living area.

Kathleen walked up behind him, running a hand up his back and resting it on his shoulder. “What kind of goodies did your housekeeper pack?”

“Let’s take a look.” He opened the lid. “Mmm. Potato chips, chocolate chip cookies, fried chicken, potato salad.”

“What’s in the thermos?”

Mac unscrewed the lid. “Smells like hot apple cider.”

“I don’t see any wine or beer.”

“She refuses to cater to my bad habits.”

“Smart woman. Here,” she said, moving in front of Mac. “Let me put this stuff away. Why don’t you start the fire? It’s getting rather chilly in here.”

“I can warm you quite easily without a fire.”

“I’m sure you can.” Kathleen put her hands on his chest and gently pushed him away. “But you promised me a long, heart-to-heart talk this weekend, and I’m afraid if I rely on you to warm me up, we’ll never have that talk.”

“A man can try, can’t he? Besides, I’ve already spilled my guts, and there’s nothing left to talk about. I thought we could just wile away the hours making love.”

She gave him her most beseeching look. “Start the fire, please.”

He couldn’t resist obeying her request.

She put the chicken and potato salad in the refrigerator, then rummaged through a cabinet and found a bowl for the chips and a plate for the cookies. Setting the cookies aside for the time being, she dumped the chips into the bowl and carried them into the living room, sat down on the couch, and watched Mac moving pieces of kindling around with the poker, his handsome, thought-filled face illuminated by the fire.

It was shortly after noon, but the sunshine had faded with the onslaught of clouds, and only the area around the fireplace was bathed in light. He put the poker back in its holder, stood, and held his hands out toward the heat of the flames, flexing his shoulders and the muscles across his back, unaware that Kathleen sat behind him, admiring the view.

He turned, slowly, looking toward the kitchen where he thought she would be. And then his eyes lowered, meeting hers, and he nearly blushed when he read the expression on her face. Desire. Need. Anticipation. All rolled into one.

“Help me with my boots?” she asked and stuck a leg toward him. He grasped the heel and pulled. She wiggled her toes as he held the boot in his hands, staring at her thick socks and jeans-covered leg. “The other one, please?”

Not even Coquette could have teased so effectively with stocking-covered feet. How the hell did she expect him to keep his hands off her when every movement she made sent his mind into erotic fantasy?

He pulled off the other boot, set them both on the floor at the end of the couch, and sat in a chair across from her.

“You don’t want to sit beside me?”

“No. I’m perfectly fine right here.” He reached for the bowl of potato chips and grabbed a handful. “Would you like some?”

“Later. Right now I want to talk.” She curled her feet under her on the couch, the warmth of the fire finally reaching out to her.

“You look so serious.” He munched on a potato chip.

“I am. I’ve been keeping something from you, something I should have told you that night in the gazebo.”

His brows knit together. What could she tell him? He didn’t want to know about Julie’s father. He fought the lump in his throat. “I’m listening.”

“I have to start by telling you how much you hurt me when you went to Europe.”

“We already talked about that, Kath.”

“I know.” He moved to the couch where she sat and snugg
l
ed up next to her. “I just want to reinforce it in your brain, because I don’t want you to leave me again. And, now, I want to thank you for leaving.”

“You’re not making sense. Why do you want to thank me?”

“Because if you hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have Julie.”

He tensed. “Don’t thank me for that, Kath. And you don’t have to feel compelled to tell me what happened.”

Kathleen laughed. “But I’m going to tell you anyway.”

“I’m not the least bit interested in who you slept with.”

“Shut up while you’re ahead, Mac, and just listen. I never had an affair with your dad. I didn’t have an affair with anyone. McKenna Publishing employees don’t have time for extracurricular activities.”

“I haven’t forgotten the man’s role in conception, Kath. Have you?” Mac teased, remembering her words to him.

“No. But maybe you’ve forgotten about adoption.”

The grin on his face disappeared completely. “You mean you’ve let me believe all this time that—”

“I haven’t let you believe anything. You never asked. Everyone else knew, even your precious Ashley. But you were too damn stubborn to take the time to learn the truth for yourself.”

“Okay, I’ll quit being stubborn.”

“I doubt it.”

Again he grinned. “Tell me about Julie. I want to know.”

Mac wrapped an arm around Kathleen and she nestled her head into the comfort of his shoulder.

“Julie’s mother was a friend from high school. She came here to live with me. She was a model and just getting successful when she found out she was pregnant. She didn’t want to get married, and she didn’t want a baby. We talked about all her choices, but too much time went by and her choices narrowed. I watched her getting bigger and bigger every day.” Kathleen closed her eyes, remembering how she had wished she was the one carrying the baby. “I got so caught up in what was happening, the next thing I knew I was looking at baby clothes and furniture, and then I knew I wanted her child.”

“Is she still in New York?”

“No. We didn’t keep in touch.”

“Does Julie know?”

“Yes.”

Slowly he reached out for her hand, pulled it to his lips, and held it there for what seemed to Kathleen like an eternity. “It seems like I’m always asking you to forgive me.”

“Promise you’ll quit making assumptions.”

“I’ll try. I’d never purposefully hurt you. I love you too much.”

Love. Oh, how long she had wanted to hear that word. “I love you, too.”

She looked at him with those startling blue, tear-filled eyes that grabbed his soul. She was so headstrong and beautiful, and he doubted there would ever be a peaceful moment in their lives. But he had already wasted too many years of his life, he wouldn’t waste one more moment
.
He pulled her to him with all the strength and desire of a man long denied. But he held back. There was more, so much more he wanted from this woman than just making love. He wanted her completely—her heart, her soul, her life.

Taking her face in his hands, he looked into those azure eyes that had haunted him for so long. “Marry me, Kath. Marry me and I’ll give you everything humanly possible.”

She slid her fingers around his hands, clasping them tight and pulled them to her heart. “What about Julie?”

“I’ve always wanted children. I’ll just start with one a little older. She’ll be my daughter—nothing less.”

“I think she’ll love you as much as I do.”

“Does that mean you’ll marry me?”

She nodded.

He swept her into his arms and brought his lips to hers. The heat of the blazing fire was nothing compared to his searing kiss. He slowly sank to his knees on the rug in front of the hearth, laid her down, and grabbed a pillow to place under her head. “The last time I undressed you I thought I would die from frustration. This time’s going to be so much more pleasant.”

“Then hurry, please.” She lifted her arms, and he tugged the T-shirt out of her jeans and pulled it over her head. Her fingers found the snaps of his shirt and ripped them apart.

He knelt above her, his eyes ablaze with desire, his blood nearing the boiling point. He pulled the shirt out of his pants and removed it, tossing it to the back of the couch. Leaning over, balancing his body
above
hers with both arms, he bent toward her, slowly, until she reached out and clasped her hands around his neck and pulled his lips down to meet hers.

His kisses had always been heaven, but this kiss was sheer ecstasy. He didn’t close his eyes, and she didn’t want him to. She wanted to read each thought as it crossed his face. And she liked what she saw. Never in her life did she think she could be loved so well, yet McKenna O’Brien was giving her more than love, he was giving her himself.

Hot, ravishing kisses coursed from her lips to her neck, to the swelling above the lace of her bra. His fingers nimbly released the hook at the front, and he pulled it away. His head raised and he looked down at the woman he held. A picture of perfection, her skin pink from the heat of the fire and his love. With skillful fingers he traced her collarbone, letting them travel again to the swell of her breasts. He touched her. Soft, warm skin, so tender and smooth. He sucked in his breath, like a dying man begging for one last moment of life. And then his hands left her breasts, circled her arms, and he stood, pulling her with him.

Their mouths met, their lips opening, tasting one another, drinking in and savoring the beauty of the moment. As if in sync, their hands explored while their mouths feasted. Their fingers sought and found, and then released the clasps of the jeans covering their most sought-after and desired parts, and with little effort, they each stepped out of the last barrier to their lovemaking.

They stood back and looked at each other, their eyes moving from head to toe, perusing with delight the naked splendor of their partner.

She touched him, circling her hands over his chest, feeling the hard, fast beating of his heart that matched her own.

He touched her, a hand on the side of each breast, his fingers tracing the dark pink of her nipples. Oh, how good the softness of her skin felt on his hands.

They smiled at each other, at the joyful wonder of their love. And then he lowered her again to the floor, to the pillows where she could rest her head as he tasted her breasts. His tongue played with their peaks. He had nearly forgotten how good such a small part of foreplay could feel. His lips and tongue strayed lower until he felt her muscles tense. Pulling himself away from what he wanted so badly, he looked into her hesitant eyes. “I want every part of you Kath. Please. Don’t deny me this.”