The Candidate (15 page)

Chapter 19

Ginny spent an inordinate amount of time in the shower. She was just wiping off her expensive yet delicious face mask — half an inch of the rose-scented cream had restored some sense of calm — when the intercom buzzed. Putting it down to a drunken idiot, she ignored it. It buzzed again. Long and loud.

‘Oh, for fucks sake!’ Sometimes she could laugh it off, but not tonight. There was nothing funny about interrupting a woman’s well-deserved night in of wallowing.

She crossed to the intercom. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s me.’ She heard Mac’s voice and cringed. ‘Let me in.’

Ginny closed her eyes and leant her head on the door frame. She knew she had to face him; sort out the mixed-up feelings chasing around inside but please, not now.

‘Can it wait, Mac? I’m tired. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

‘No — it can’t. Let me in.’

‘Well, look, just … wait, will you?’

Scowling slightly — what did he have to be pissed off about? — Ginny grabbed her robe. It wasn’t as if the day could get any more embarrassing; greeting him in her PJs would finish it off nicely.

At the street door, Ginny took a deep breath and opened it. She glimpsed Mac looking moodily down the laneway. He turned, but she headed back upstairs before he could say anything.

‘What are you doing here, Mac?’ she asked as he followed her into the flat. Standing in the middle of the room she was unsure where to be, how to act.

He eyed her as he came closer. He held up coffee beans. ‘I thought you might need some of these.’

‘Thanks.’

Something besides the beans and his narky look had entered the room with him. An uncomfortable tension had sprung up between them.

He lobbed the beans onto her coffee table and took a cursory glance at the pedicure kit and nail polish, glass of wine, pillows and blankets stacked on the couch. He looked at the television where a much younger Colin Firth was stilled on the screen.

Turning to face her again, he raised an eyebrow. ‘Pride and Prejudice’? Again? Still?’

‘What’s it to you?’ It came out sharp, but the room was starting to feel too small with him in it. He needed to leave. She couldn’t deal with him now.

‘What’s with you today?’ Mac was clearly irritated. ‘Why are you so pissy?’

‘I’m not pissy.’

‘Yes, you are. I know you and I know when you’re pissy. This is definitely pissy. Tell me what’s going on.’

The confusion she felt fed her temper and Ginny sparked up. ‘You don’t know me. I’ve hardly seen you for the best part of six years. What gives you the right to barge in here and tell me whether I’m pissy or not? Just bugger off.’

‘What the hell is your problem, Ginn?’ His voice was even, but only just. Keeping his eyes on hers, he stepped back and leant against the back of the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he did. ‘Come on. Spill.’

She took a deep breath to gather herself. She thought of her dad’s funeral — how she’d lashed out at him then, too. She didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

‘No problem, Mac.’ She plastered a smile on her face. ‘As I said — I’m tired. It’s been a big week and I’ve got another one coming. I’m sorry if I’m out of sorts. Maybe we could catch up tomorrow once I’ve had a decent sleep.’ Ginny paused. ‘I don’t know — maybe you and me and … Susannah could grab some lunch?’ Be nice, she chastised herself. Be his friend. ‘I’d like to get to know her a bit more.’

‘Susannah? You ignored her all day. Why are you so keen to be buddies now?’

‘I’m just trying to be supportive, Mac.’ There was the bitchiness again, and his face hardened with it. ‘Just because you’ve never been that way inclined with my relationships doesn’t mean I can’t be when you get a new girlfriend.’

‘Girlfriend? What are you on about, Ginn. She’s not my girlfriend. I told you: we work together. I mentioned at drinks last night that I was heading up to the open day and she asked if she could tag along. What do you care, anyway?’

Ginny puffed out a breath. ‘I don’t, Mac. Whatever. Do what you want, you always have. It’s your life. I don’t have any claim over it, certainly not over who you decide to date.’

She looked at him, leaning there as if he were part of the furniture. T-shirt stretched over his chest and arms, dark green eyes watching her closely. Something rolled through her, starting deep in her belly, rapidly filling her. It made her ache, she wanted him so much. She closed her eyes, trying to will it away. This was mad, simply mad. What the hell was happening to her?

There was a long silence before Mac spoke. ‘I’m not interested in Susannah.’ She opened her eyes and met his. ‘But … if I was, would that make you … jealous?’

A blush scurried up her neck, into her face. She turned away to hide it. ‘Get out, Mac. Please just get out.’

He shook his head. No way in hell. ‘Shoe’s on the other foot, is it, Ginny?’ He said it lightly, despite the tension humming between them. ‘Not too comfortable, is it? The first time you try it on.’

She looked back at him; he was biting back a smile, but there was something else on his face. He was as nervous as she was.

‘You’ve got nothing to be jealous of. Absolutely nothing, Ginn. Haven’t had for quite a while in fact.’

She felt herself pale. ‘I don’t know what I am. But it’s nothing a glass of wine and Mr Darcy won’t fix. I think you should leave, Mac.’

He made her wait. ‘Is that what you want?’

‘I think so, yes.’

Hearing her hesitation, he reached forward and lifted her fingers into his. He edged his hand under hers so that their palms rested together. Locking her gaze, Mac traced his fingers from her wrist, across her palm and along the length of her fingers. Curled his slightly so he could hook her, and tugged gently.

‘Are you sure?’

Ginny stared at him. Then shook her head.

‘Okay. I won’t then.’

She swallowed. ‘I really missed you, Mac.’

‘I missed you too. Always did.’ He gave her another gentle tug, and she took a small step towards him.

‘And now you’re back, after so long, I …’ She felt a deep, shocking blast of want for him as he ran his finger along her hand again. Overwhelmed, she pulled away.

He hesitated, then braced himself on the couch. ‘I want this, Ginn. I haven’t stopped wanting it. But I’m not going to push if it isn’t what you want.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The last time this subject came up you were adamant that you didn’t want it. What about now, though? What do you want now, Ginn?’

Her mouth went dry. The memory of that long-ago night swam up and sent her back there: the music, the heat of the place, the way he had held her against him, the feel of his body — rock hard, and so very, very strong. And that kiss … sweet Jesus, what a friggin’ kiss that was. What do I want? She nearly laughed out loud. You. To feel your skin.

‘Ginn? I’ll go, if you want me to. This is your call.’

She met his eyes. It jolted her and, momentarily, froze everything within her and between them. He’d issued an invitation, an acknowledgment, and if she wanted to … all she had to do was take him up on it. Reaching out a hand, eyes not leaving his face, Ginny pushed her fingers up under his T-shirt, ran them along the top of his jeans, and felt the heat of his skin.

‘Can I do this? Is it okay?’

He let out a breath and nodded.

She moved closer, slipped her other hand under his T-shirt, ran both up over his stomach. Ginny made for his shoulders, down over his upper arms, as far as the cloth would allow. She eased her fingers back down his body, meeting at the trail of hair under his belly button. It was outrageous, this feeling, and it frightened her. But she couldn’t stop.

She leant into him, took a breath, and could just about taste him on it. Following the line down, she ran her fingers below his waistband and felt his stomach tighten as a ragged breath came out of him. She hooked a finger between jeans and skin and traced it slowly along his stomach again before resting her hands on his hips.

‘I don’t want to lose you, Mac.’

It was clear what they were heading for, and the prospect of it, the possibility, had her heart beating hard and quick. But Mac wasn’t some man she’d just met and had the hots for. He was her oldest, closest friend. She depended on him; she needed him in her life. And she surely couldn’t retain that if she kept this up.

‘You’re not going to lose me, Ginny.’

‘I nearly did — before.’ Her thoughts flew back to the first horrible months after he left, not knowing where he was, or how to get hold of him. She made to take her hands away.

Mac moved fast, placing his over hers, keeping them where they lay. ‘No, you didn’t — not even close. I’ll go, Ginn, if that’s what you want. But either way, you’re not going to lose me.’

She didn’t say anything, but some of the tension eased out of her. Sensing it, Mac ran his hands up her wrists and rested them lightly on her forearms. He smiled.

‘This is good, Ginn. It’s okay; trust me.’

She did trust him, and if he was so sure they could do this, well — maybe she could trust that, too. She sure as hell wanted to. But that trust went two ways. Still watching him, she pushed her hand up his side, stopping just short of the scar.

‘What happened, Mac?’

‘What do you think happened?’

‘You got shot.’

He nodded; a small assent. ‘It’s war. People have guns. They shoot them at one another from time to time.’

She saw the shutters come down. ‘Want to tell me about it?’

He shook his head. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm.

‘No, Ginny, I don’t.’

‘Okay.’ That was enough for now. Closing the small space remaining between them, Ginny took his mouth in hers and kissed him.

It was like a thunderbolt; a lightning strike. The heat of it shot through her, lighting her up. She’d been wrong about that kiss, she realised, that night at the bar, long ago. It was nothing compared with having him here with her, like this, the edges not blurred by drink. She kept her hands on him, didn’t want to lose contact with that skin. Ran them up under his shirt again, stepped in to reach his back, and felt the muscle under her fingers. This was way better than she had imagined, Ginny thought vaguely, and felt him shiver.

They kissed lazily — tasting, testing, teasing. He untied her robe and she shook it off. As she stepped into him, Mac ran his hands up her arms, cupping her shoulders before pulling her closer.

The reality of her made the fantasy he had carried for so many years seem shallow and flat. This was the last part of her he had to learn, the only aspect of her he had yet to map, and he catalogued every inch that he touched. He was a quick study, and if this was the only chance he got, the feel of her would be committed to memory for a long time to come. Hands at her waist, he edged under her pajama top, stroking his thumbs across the hollow just inside her hips. She sighed; he caught it in his mouth and, taking it as a cue, moved a hand, spanning her stomach. He pushed his palm into her gently, imprinting himself on her. At the feel of her belly, its softness, want and need slammed into him. As his pulse picked up, Mac kissed her harder, and she responded in kind.

His hands went back to her sides, drawing small circles as he slowly pushed up her top. Reaching his destination, he skimmed the underside of her breast, and heard, felt, a low moan escape her. She dropped her head back, opening her throat for his mouth as his hands moved over her.

‘What the hell is this, Mac?’ She sounded shaky, unsure, and it made him hesitate.

He pulled away, moving his hands back to her waist as he looked at her, and fell willingly into her eyes, despite the uncertainty he saw there. Her top slipped back down and although he wanted to rip the bloody thing off, he reminded himself to take it slow, as slow as she needed.

‘Okay?’

He waited, and she nodded, then reached for him again and he came back for more. The kiss deepened, and took on an extra urgency.

Ginny felt another level of resistance fade, dissipate and as she relaxed her senses went into hyper-drive. Her awareness narrowed down to Mac: his taste, the feel of his body, and his hands as they made their wandering way over her. Exploring … possessing … She shifted, laid her arms over his shoulders and moved closer still, as close as she could get.

He couldn’t think straight, he wanted her so much. His hands gripped her from behind, and held her hard against him, as he had once before.

She laughed, and he pulled back an inch.

‘What?’

‘You. You’re such an ass man.’

He smiled, faintly embarrassed.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, running a hand down her face, cupping her chin. ‘But I’m also a bit of a mouth man.’ That pout, he thought as he kissed her, was as good as he remembered. Tracing his thumb under her eye, he continued, ‘And I’ve been known to have a thing for eyes … especially brown ones.’

Trying not to hold on too tightly, Mac pulled her back into him and moved his mouth up the line of her throat. She softened under him; she was starting to give in, to go with it. Still telling himself to go slow, fighting against what was driving him, he pushed his hands back under her top. This time, she didn’t look scared.

‘Breasts are a no-brainer,’ Mac continued, his voice thickening. ‘For most men …’ Waiting a beat, he brushed his thumbs over her and she groaned, pushing into him. Bending his head, he took her in his mouth. Stunned by the intimacy, nearly flattened by it, he drew his tongue over her nipple slowly, circling it, tugging at her, and the taste of her ran through him.

Something ignited in her and burnt bright and hot. The feel of his mouth made it hard to breathe; her breath came shallow and way too fast. Ginny tugged off her top, and gasped as he pulled her back in to him, not so gentle now. She grabbed at his T-shirt, hauling it up and over his shoulders, pushing him away so she could get it off him, then she stepped back in, feeling his skin on hers.

‘But you’re right. I am, in essence, an ass man.’ Only just managing to pace himself, his mouth went back to hers and he sank into the kiss, losing himself. A Ginny man, he supposed, truth be told. But there was no need to put all his cards on the table. Not quite trusting himself, Mac ran his hands down the uninterrupted line of her back and beneath her pyjama pants. He said a silent prayer of thanks. Hallelujah. She was going commando. What a woman.