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Authors: Bonnie K. Winn

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BOOK: The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie
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“I’ll have someone bring up your drafting table and supplies,” he added, his gaze lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.
Brynn had an absurd desire to check her wild hair and see just how many curls were tangled about her face. Instead, she pushed at her heavy glasses, glad for their camouflage. “Thank you. I’ll be needing them.”
Heather cooed at Bossy, who turned his beak to one side as though wondering if the girl had taken leave of her senses. “Take it off, baby. Take it all off.”
Laughing at his words, Heather wagged her finger at the mischievous bird.
Matt didn’t look as amused. “Unusual thing for a bird to say.”
“He’s had a rather colorful past, I’m afraid. Hanging out in bars and strip joints didn’t do much for his manners,” Brynn explained.
Matt’s eyebrow rose. “I see.”
But it was clear he didn’t. “But you don’t understand. I mean—”
“None of my concern where you take your bird.”
“But I didn’t—”
His gaze flicked over her again, then toward his younger sister to emphasize Heather’s presence. “But it’s not something I think we ought to talk about now.” He shook his head. “You’re sure not like the girl I thought Gregory would choose. He was always into sophisticated society beauties.”
Brynn blanched in spite of herself.
“I didn’t mean that the way it came out,” he said quickly, reluctantly meeting her gaze. He was clearly floundering for an explanation. “Just that you don’t look like a high-powered career woman, or a debutante.”
She swallowed the hurt, realizing he hadn’t intended for the words to cause pain. “You’re right, I’m not. I don’t have much in common with those beauties.”
He had the grace to flush with embarrassment. “That wasn’t a commentary on your looks. You look just fine. I meant you aren’t Gregory’s usual type. And that’s to your advantage.”
“Just fine.”
The way she’d describe an average meal, a cooling cup of coffee, or a day filled with neither sunshine nor rain. Hardly a glowing accolade.
Still, it wasn’t Matt MacKenzie’s responsibility to find her attractive, or impressive, or challenging. And clearly he didn’t. As she shut the door behind him and his younger sister, she wondered why that bothered her so much.
Chapter Three
A
lthough she spent far too long studying the album of wedding pictures, Brynn still wasn’t all that late getting ready for breakfast, having risen early. It was the only thing she didn’t need an alarm clock for. Rising on time was far easier than remembering appointments and the other distractions of life. Normally she depended on several alarm clocks, enough sticky notes to save a rain forest, and endless recorded messages to remember obligations beyond drawing and delivering her strip. And still she tended to forget many of them.
But she hadn’t needed any of those devices to remember to look at the wedding album this morning. She’d felt an urgent need to reconnect with the pictures in the book, to remind herself why she was here putting on a show for Gregory’s family. As was her habit, Brynn traced the contours of his face, then flipped through to her favorite pages, smiling at the ones that pleased her the most.
Finally shutting the album, Brynn hugged it close before placing it on the dresser in a prominent spot. Knowing she should make an appearance for breakfast, and realizing she was later than she’d expected, Brynn hurried out of her room. Still, she was unable to resist learning more about her surroundings. Once downstairs, Brynn took her time finding the dining room.
In the confusion of arriving the previous afternoon, she hadn’t had the time or opportunity to really look at the interior of the lodge. Now she saw that log-planked walls of the spacious lobby led to other wings that widened and rose above the main area. Discreet signs indicated that dining rooms and banquet halls were close by.
Huge picture windows allowed the mountains and farreaching views to come inside. Tastefully, the MacKenzies hadn’t given in to the formerly faddish rage of decorating in a Southwestern motif. The true Western style, interspersed with striking antiques and traditional pieces, was far more intriguing.
Comfortable, overstuffed leather chairs invited her to sink into their depths. Grouped to take advantage of the imposing river-rock fireplace, more chairs, covered in tasteful, warmcolored fabric, flanked it on each side, and long, deep-seated couches faced them.
Tables of heavy wood burl offered a place to rest a book or hot drink and ottomans offered equally pleasing spots to rest tired feet. Tall indoor trees soared toward the atriumlike ceiling. Skylights crisscrossed the roof, meeting the floor-to-ceiling windows. Except for the reflections of the sun glinting off the polished glass, it looked as though the lobby were set outdoors beneath the pines.
What a magical place to grow up in, she decided, thinking of all the towns and cities she’d lived in during her childhood and adolescence, how eventually they had all blended into one faceless, anonymous lump.
But her mother had been restless, unable to settle long in any one place, always sure that she’d find that elusive “greener grass.” Brynn didn’t think that grass existed for Charlene Magee, but she’d never voiced that opinion—not that her mother would have listened.
What must it feel like to have always lived in one sturdy home? Lived there long enough to memorize the scenery, to have the landmarks branded in your consciousness for all time. No wonder Gregory was such a sensitive, far-thinking man. He’d taken this solid background and used it as a launching pad into an equally solid career, one that had brought him success and recognition.
Recognition that had gotten him kidnapped.
Trying not to think of that, or how he was faring, Brynn. thought instead of the weeks and months of jogging along the same paths, the serious concentration he put into that task, as well.
She’d often dreamed of approaching him—jogging casually alongside him and introducing herself—and of course, his response. He would begin with a casual invitation to coffee...then dinner...and before long they’d be inseparable. He would wonder how he could have jogged past her so many times before asking her out. They would laugh together over his timing; then the laughter would give way to passion as they realized why they truly belonged together. And...
“Brynn.
Brynn!
Are you all right?” Miranda MacKenzie reached out one hand to gently tap her arm.
“I’m sorry. Just thinking, I guess. About how beautiful the lodge is... And about Gregory.”
“It’s painful for us all, my dear.” Flagrantly dyed blond hair bobbed as Miranda nodded her head. Ten years older than her brother Frank, she was holding on to the last of her middle age with a vengeance. Carefully applied makeup hid many of those years, as did her sharp, intelligent eyes and agile movements. Now that gaze met Brynn’s. “But he’s a sharp boy. Always was. Always figuring angles, coming up with answers no one else does. If anyone can get out of a sticky wicket, it’s our Gregory.”
Brynn listened to this new information about him, eager as always to gather more details. “Really?”
Miranda tipped her head, studying Brynn. “But surely you already know that. Gregory is a fairly open book—if you can find the index. He likes to put on airs as though he’s part of an old Eastern family rather than an equally respectable Westem one, but I’ve never let that dissuade me. And gauging from what I’ve seen, I doubt you do, either.”
Brynn remembered to shake her head and pretend that this was old news. “No, of course not. I’m sure—I mean, I know that Gregory is very proud of his heritage.”
Miranda looked puzzled again. “Usually not so that it shows. But I expect he let you beneath the layers since he married you. It would be horrific to keep up a pretense like that for long.”
“Absolutely,” Brynn agreed with conviction.
Nothing less than horrific.
“I thought I smelled waffles....”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you hadn’t eaten. There are waffles, omelets, french toast, you name it—it’s all good. We have a minibrunch during the week, and on weekends it lasts till three in the afternoon, and we serve up everything but the woodwork. And there are times I wouldn’t swear we hadn’t thrown in a two-by-four, as well. But the guests love it.” She took Brynn’ arm. “The dining room’s this way. And everyone’s dying to meet you.”
Brynn. gulped. “Gregory has more family?”
Miranda chuckled. “Not exactly. I was referring to the staff—but they’re just like family. I think Dustin’s the only one who actually met you when he brought up your drafting table. The others wanted to meet you as well, but Ruth insisted that you be given your rest and some privacy. Now I think your time’s up!”
It was hard to take offense at Miranda’s cheerful manner or words. So she was going to be the center of attention. Inwardly, Brynn cringed, hating just such situations. It was one of the reasons she loved her chosen field; she didn’t have to deal with many attention-getting predicaments since it was Stephanie’s face that graced the funny papers. Smoothing her hands down the soft fabric of her long skirt, Brynn hoped for some composure.
But composure flew out the window when the staff surrounded her, introducing themselves, asking her dozens of questions, crowding out any responses she had to make. It was at once overwhelming and heartwarming. As the MacKenzie family had done, the resort staff welcomed her with warmth and affection. It amazed her to think such openness existed outside of sitcoms and fairy tales.
When she finally sat down at a table, she nearly forgot she was there to eat. Instead, she let her dazed senses take in only a portion of what had transpired in the last twenty-four hours.
“You forgot to get a plate—” an amused voice washed over her “—not that one of your new devotees wouldn’t be happy to fetch a plate, or fill it with what you want.”
Brynn raised startled eyes and focused them on Matt MacKenzie. He sat at a small table next to hers, some sort of ledger spread out in front of him, along with a carafe of coffee and a thick white mug.
“Good morning,” she replied cautiously. “Where do I get a plate?”
He gestured toward the buffet cart. “Unless you’d rather have something from the menu, but the brunch has the best of both—the day’s specials and the pick of the menu.”
“Uhm, thanks.” She rose, suddenly self-conscious as she made her way to the cart to join the other guests already lined up for the buffet. Steaming servers held all sorts of wonderful-looking things, while a second smaller tray was filled with ice, cooling sliced fresh fruit, yogurt and cream cheese.
Deciding on a piece of french toast and some berries, Brynn carried her plate back, pausing as she looked between the table she’d chosen and the one Matt dominated. She wasn’t certain she wanted to share that small space with him. Turned halfway toward her table, she stopped as Matt spoke.
“Would you care to join me?”
She wavered, wishfully glancing at the safety of her previous table before twisting back to face him. “
Sure—uh,
I mean, that would be nice. I’ll just get my coffee.”
But he was already stretching one of his long arms toward the other table, easily reaching her mug. She continued to stare, amazed at the agility of the man. He was so large—not like Gregory, who was a far more pared-down version. Matt’s height included long arms and legs and big strong hands, not to mention an athletic build. She cleared her throat and jerked her eyes away, reminding herself that she really didn’t care for such a physical sort of man.
“Thank you.” Cautiously, she took the seat across from his, wishing he’d chosen a larger table, one where their legs didn’t have to be practically touching. Tall herself, she knew that two pairs of long legs would have difficulty not brushing against each other.
“Did you sleep well?” Matt asked, moving his calculator so that her plate and mug fit more easily on the table.
She remembered the night, her initial restlessness, then her dreams about Gregory, how it would be to share his home, his bed. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat, suspecting that spots of color dotted her cheeks. “Yes. The mountain air is very refreshing.”
He chuckled. “Most people say it freezes them out the first time they come up here.”
“I do live in Salt Lake,” she reminded him. “While it’s in the valley, it’s not exactly the flatlands.”
“True, but it’s not at the top of a mountain, either.”
She smiled. “And it’s a beautiful mountain.”
For the first time, she saw a genuinely pleased expression cross his face. “It’s that and more.”
“So you’ve never had a desire to leave here, explore other ventures?”
Matt lifted one brow. “I
have
dragged myself away on occasion. Even us backwoods boys like to have a taste of the big city now and then.”
Wondering if she’d insulted him, Brynn toyed with her french toast. If he enjoyed being a ski burn, why did her comment upset him? “I’m sure most people envy you your freedom.” She gestured toward the book in front of him, guessing he was doing some accounting for the resort. “Even though I’m sure you get roped in to working, as well.”
A frown creased his forehead. “On occasion.”
She smiled. “I’m a bit of a rebel, myself. That’s why I like working out of my apartment. I set my own rules.”
“I see.”
“And on occasion, I like to get into the city myself,” she added, hoping to lay oil on any ruffled feathers.
“I managed to stumble off the mountain myself this week.”
She cocked her head, then remembered. “Of course. You went to Washington.”
“And it’s a funny thing.”
“Oh?”
He stared at her. “You haven’t asked what I found out about Gregory. Not once.”
Brynn swallowed uncomfortably, caught in the web of her own making. “I thought if you had news, you would share it.”
“Pretty big assumption.”
She clutched her napkin, balling it into a wrinkled wad. “I think I’d better tell you—”
“Brynn! I thought you might be sleeping in!” Ruth greeted her, swooping down to give her a friendly hug. “You’re still a touch pale. You’re such a fragile thing—we’ll have to feed you well until Gregory comes back. I don’t want him to think we let you fade away.”
“No, really. I’m fine—”
Ruth waved away her protests. “I’m going to bring you a plate of blintzes—full of cream, strawberries, and all kinds of wonderful things. Now don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”
Tom, Brynn stared between Ruth’s retreating back and Matt’s unrelenting gaze. “Really, no one needs to fuss over me.”
“Mother’s right. You look as though a good wind would blow you over.”
Brynn pushed at her glasses, mortified as always by her image as the tall, skinny kid.
Matt closed the ledger, seeming to sense her unease. “If she gets to be too much for you, just tell her to back off. Mother will smother you to death if you let her—all with good intentions. She and Dad are really glad you’re here. They needed some part of Gregory to hang on to. Especially Dad.”
“He’s the one who looks fragile,” she ventured.
“I’m afraid he is,” Matt answered shortly. “But don’t let him hear you say that.”
Ruth was returning with the plate of blintzes. Brynn stared at them in dismay. She’d brought enough food for Brynn and half-a-dozen football players. “This really is too much.”
BOOK: The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie
10.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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