Free Falling (20 page)

“Imagine this room beautifully restored. Its
wood floors gleaming, adorned with beautiful wool carpets. The
reproduction furniture eye-pleasing and comfortable for the
patients waiting for appointments. The atmosphere warm and
inviting, making the patients feel safe, at home. Imagine the
dining room transformed into a tasteful, yet efficient office.

“A fully equipped lab would replace the large
kitchen. And the two large bedrooms on this floor would become four
good-sized examination rooms. The upstairs would include a supply
room, private offices, and an employees’ lounge. All retaining the
look and feel of history, and home.”

Free explained how Towery had discovered that
the layout of the house was perfectly suited for renovation to a
medical clinic. The cost would be compatible to, if not less than,
new construction.

Mac listened quietly. When she had finished,
he opened his eyes and walked out of the parlor. He stood in the
wide entry hall at the bottom of the staircase and noted again,
with a measure of reluctance, the exquisite craftsmanship of the
old house. He
could
imagine the elegant staircase returned
to its former glory. Common sense told him that she was right. The
house would make a beautiful clinic.

But restoration wasn’t his style. McFerrin
Enterprises didn’t do restoration. He and his father had built this
company into a multi-million dollar corporation by pushing into the
future, not dwelling in the past.

“That way the antebellum theme would be kept
throughout the neighborhood,” Free interjected when the silence
continued. Mac turned to face her and she leveled those amazing
blue eyes on him. “It’s what everybody wants, Mac.”

He looked at her for a long time, unable to
speak. She was so beautiful. And he wanted her like he had never
wanted anyone else. His arms ached to hold her. But it would only
add insult to injury. Theirs was a relationship doomed from the
beginning. He knew it. And, most likely, she knew it, too.

Mac turned away. How could he fight this?
Admittedly, he had gotten himself into this no-win situation. But
how could he hurt Free?

For the first time in his life, Mac wavered
about making a decision. Then the vivid fantasy of Free holding his
child in her arms flitted through his mind. Mac squeezed his eyes
shut and forced out the image. He couldn’t have that. He wasn’t the
kind of man that could make a woman like Free happy. She gave too
much and would expect a lot in return. Mac couldn’t ever match her
emotional generosity. He gave his all to work—he didn’t have enough
left to make Free happy. But the one thing he could do was let her
have her way on this house. He could do that.

“Fine.” Mac met her hopeful gaze. “You win.”
He turned and walked out. He could feel her close behind him when
he stepped into the bright morning sun, but he didn’t look back. If
he looked back, he might not be able to ever walk away from her.
And he had to walk away.

“The house stays,” he told the site
supervisor as he passed. Mac ignored his questions. He glanced at
Jake. “Do whatever you have to do to work out the contracts.” Mac
didn’t qualify his orders. He didn’t want to think. He just wanted
to get the hell out of there.

As he slid behind the wheel of his vehicle,
Mac heard the cheers of victory from the protestors. At least
somebody had gotten what they wanted.

~*~

Free peeled off her work gloves and smoothed
her hand over the door’s newly sanded surface. The wood’s exquisite
grain stood out, ready to accept the stain and varnish that would
restore its finish. It pleased her immensely that this project had
turned out so well. She smiled sadly. This would be the key to
maintaining her sanity for a long time to come. Staying busy would
keep her mind off Mac and her broken heart.

Alex had told her that Mac planed to leave
tomorrow. Free glanced at her watch. Nine p.m. Obviously he didn’t
intend to bother with goodbyes. She sighed. It had been three days
since Mac had made the decision to let the Chenille Street house
stand. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in all that time.

Her heart ached but there was nothing to be
done. Mac had made his position clear. Though he had apologized in
a roundabout way for the things he had thought were true about her
past, it still hurt when she remembered that scene in the parlor.
Mac hadn’t actually apologized to her in person, but he’d sent the
message by Jake. If Free could have seen his eyes when he said the
words she would have known if they came from the heart. As it was,
she would never know.

A light knock sounded at the door to Free’s
workshop. Startled, she looked up. Mac stood in her doorway, a
white box tied with gold ribbon in his hand.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said by
way of greeting.

Free smiled wanly. “No, not at all.” She
shoved handful of hair behind her ear. “Come in, please.”

Mac spoke as he walked toward her. “I just
came to say goodbye.” When he stopped, he extended the white box in
her direction. “And to give you this.”

Free’s heart thudded. Maybe he intended to
make things right between them. She immediately chastised herself
for the thought and accepted the box. But she didn’t want some dumb
present, she wanted him! Free tamped down the urge to throw her
arms around him and beg him not to go. “Thank you,” she
managed.

Mac watched, his blue gaze intent on her
every move, as she set the box on the worktable and untied the
ribbon, making small talk in an effort to fill the charged silence.
She reached inside the box and touched a smooth, cool surface. From
beneath the white tissue paper she withdrew Mrs. Lassiter’s snow
globe.

“Oh, Mac, thank you.” Tears welled in her
eyes. She tilted the globe then watched the tiny gold flecks fall
around the Parisian scene. “I’ll cherish it always.”

“Free, I’m really sorry…” His words trailed
into silence as their gazes connected.

His scent made her weak with want, the look
of uncertainty in his beautiful blue eyes made her want to weep.
How she loved this man. If only she could reach him somehow, awaken
his heart in some way. But she couldn’t. He was leaving, he didn’t
want to stay. He didn’t want her.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. Because you’re
leaving,” she said in spite of herself. Free summoned a sad smile.
“I’ll miss having you as a neighbor,” she clarified
self-consciously.

He shrugged. “I’m not needed here any
longer.”

He was wrong! She needed him, but she could
never tell him. The snow globe felt suddenly too heavy to hold.
Free set it aside. “I heard you decided to take Oliver with you.”
She willed herself not to fidget now that her hands were empty. Why
had she even mentioned the puppy? She already knew the answer, Alex
had told her. This was so pathetic. She just wanted to hear his
voice. “You’re sure you want to keep him?”

Only one side of Mac’s mouth lifted, as if a
full smile were too difficult a task to accomplish. “He’s kind of
grown on me.”

“Do you…” Free bit her lip, then plunged
ahead with her question. “Do you feel any different about the past
and what it has to offer the future?”

Mac exhaled and considered her question for a
time. “I have mixed feelings,” he confessed. Then he smiled, a
true, breathtaking, heart-stopping smile. “I guess that means I’m
not a totally lost cause.”

Free forced her gaze to remain on his, though
she wanted with all her heart to feast her eyes on all of him, from
head to toe. He looked so incredibly awesome in those snug jeans
and that soft white T-shirt. The blue casual jacket was the perfect
icing on the cake. Mac was more good-looking than any man, real or
on a movie screen, Free had ever laid eyes on. And he was so
lonely. It hurt so much that she couldn’t be the one to change
that.

“You are definitely not a lost cause,” she
assured him.

A long, awkward moment passed while they
stared into each other’s eyes. Mac swallowed, then broke the
silence. “There’s something else in that box for you,” he said
mysteriously.

She frowned and dug through the numerous
layers of tissue paper, finally locating what felt like an
envelope. Free pulled it from the box. She fidgeted with the
envelope and then opened it enough to peek at its contents. Her
breath stalled in her lungs. Quickly, she reread the ticket to be
sure. Tears stung her eyes and threatened to overflow. The envelope
held a round-trip airline ticket to Paris, France, as well as a
paid-in-full reservation for a hotel the name of which she couldn’t
hope to pronounce.

“I can’t accept a gift like this,” she
murmured, her whole body weak with disbelief. Her nerves were on
edge—on fire—from his nearness.

“I want you to have it. I want you to go to
Paris.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “It would mean a great
deal to me if you accepted my gift.”

Free stared at the ticket for a long moment.
“I’ve always dreamed of going to Paris. It’s been my heart’s desire
for so long.”

Mac nodded, then shoved his hands into his
pockets. “I suppose I should go now.” He turned and started toward
the door.

“There’s just one problem,” Free announced,
stopping him in his tracks. He waited for her to speak, but didn’t
turn around. “In my dreams, I was always accompanied by the man I
love.”

He turned around slowly, his expression
almost unreadable. “I can get you another ticket if you’d like,” he
offered, the deep timbre of his voice slightly strained.

Free clutched the ticket to her breast and
took the few steps that separated them. “Oh, that would be great,
Mac. I would really appreciate it.”

Something that looked a lot like jealousy
flickered in his gaze. Free’s heart leapt in reaction. “Do I know
the guy?” he asked uncertainly.

“You know him, but not as well as I do,” she
teased. Free walked her fingers up his chest and then curled her
arms around his neck. “He’s tall, dark, and incredibly
handsome.”

Mac stood stock-still for a fraction of a
second, then smiled as if he’d only just realized who she meant. He
slid his arms around her waist. “He sounds somewhat
interesting.”

“Oh, he’s very interesting,” Free purred. She
traced the tip of her finger over his full lower lip. “If you’d
like, I could help you get to know him better.”

Mac hummed a note of agreement. “I could be
tempted.”

Free tiptoed to place a light kiss on his
lips. “That would mean you’d have to spend a whole week in Paris
with me,” she suggested. “Who knows? Maybe even two.”

“I think I could manage that,” he replied,
his hands moving sensually over her body.

“But what about work?” she asked, giving him
the opportunity to back out. Her heart seemed to hesitate as she
waited for his response.

Mac grinned. “Have you forgotten, I own the
business? I can do anything I want.”

She smiled with the happiness that bloomed
inside her, then turned suddenly serious. “Mac, are you sure this
is what you want?” She searched his gaze. She had to know. Could
she make a man like him happy? “When you walked in here you were
all set to say goodbye.”

His grin widened. “That was only plan A.”

Free frowned. “Plan A?”

“Right.”

Even more bewildered, she asked, “What was
after plan A?”

“Plan B, of course,” he said teasingly.

Really curious now, Free took the bait.
“What’s plan B?”

“This.” Mac reached inside his jacket and
pulled out another envelope exactly like the one Free held. “I
planed to follow you to Paris and win you back.”

She smiled at him, her heart bursting with
joy. “You never lost me,” she murmured.

Mac kissed her then, his firm, warm lips
applying just the right amount of pressure to drive Free wild with
rekindled desire. She leaned into the kiss, losing herself in the
sensations and tastes of the man she loved. He drew back all too
soon.

“I love you, Mac,” she said softly, needing
to gauge his reaction to what this really meant to her.

“Good,” he whispered. “Because I realized
that all these crazy mixed up emotions I’ve been experiencing
pointed to something I could no longer deny. Work isn’t enough. I
need more. I need you.”

Free’s heart swelled with emotion. Was he
saying…?

“I love you, Free. Until the day I take my
last breath, y
ou
will be my top priority.”

DEBRA WEBB, born in
Alabama, wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at
thirteen.  It wasn’t until she spent three years working for
the military behind the Iron Curtain—and a five-year stint with
NASA—that she realized her true calling.  A collision course
between suspense and romance was set. Since then she has penned
nearly 100 novels. Visit her at www.debrawebb.com.

Thank you for selecting a Debra Webb story.
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