Messing With Mac

“Well, it’s not a relaxation technique I’ve used much.”

He let out a soft laugh. “Tell me, Princess, when was the last time you laid in the grass like this and relaxed period?”

“Okay so it’s not a relaxation technique I’ve used ever,” she admitted.

He tipped his head back, trying to catch as much of the view as possible. “It’s always been cheap therapy for me.”

She rolled to her side and came up on her elbow so that she could look at him lying there, all sprawled out, looking so perfectly at home. He was long, lean. Wet. His clothes clung to his sinewy strength but that strength was far more than purely physical, because he had an inner strength as well. “What does a man like you need therapy for?”

“A man like me?” He turned his head toward her, smiling as he reached up and pulled a piece of grass out of her hair. “What does that mean, a man like me?”

“A man like you,” she repeated, her voice a little breathy at the way he was looking at her. “Strong. Intelligent. Your own boss. You run your own life the way you want, the hell with anyone else, so yeah, what does a man like you need from cheap therapy?”

“You’d be surprised.” He pierced her with a look she couldn’t quite read. “Do you remember that night at Town Hall?”

How could she forget? “Yes.”

“The kiss. Do you remember the kiss?”

Only every living second.

“Yeah,” he said to her silence. “I thought so. Look, we both walked away that night telling ourselves that that was as far as this would go.”

“I know.” He was lying there, prone and wet, soaking up the sun, so close and yet so far, and for some reason she didn’t want to think about too hard, she needed to touch him. She ran her finger over his shoulder, down his arm.

His eyes heated. “This wasn’t going to happen again, we decided. Did something change for you?”

Good question. Beneath her finger his muscles leaped. “Well…I liked that water fight.”

“Fight? That was a massacre.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “And it was so cathartic, I guess I’m feeling…reckless. I want to know more about you, Mac.” She was shocked, shocked to the core, to hear the words come out of her mouth and find that she meant them.

“Why?”

She understood the question. They’d both said this wasn’t going anywhere. They’d agreed, she knew that, and nothing should have changed.

Except it had. She had this new desire…a desire to know him.

Mac grimaced and caught her hand in his. “Taylor…”

One look into his wary face and she knew. He didn’t feel that same desire. Mortified, she tried to tug free. “I know, nothing has changed for you,” she said flatly, turning her head away.

“Wait-”

“No. You don’t have to explain why you don’t want me.”

His sigh conveyed volumes. “Could you look at me? Please?”

She blinked up into his intense gaze.

“No, I mean really look at me,” he said, his voice tight.

Not understanding, she ran her gaze over his body. Over his chest, his flat belly, his- “Oh,” she said faintly, catching sight of a very impressive erection straining the button fly on his jeans.

Her mouth went dry, while between her legs her body had the opposite reaction.

“I want you,” he assured her in that ragged, almost tortured voice. “I want you more than I want my next breath, but that’s all it is. Physical. That’s all it can be for me.”

“Because of your ex-wife?” She hated the needy part of herself that made her ask.

“Partly,” he admitted. “Mostly.”

It was a struggle but she managed to look like she hadn’t just been kicked in the gut. She of all people understood a true, deep, abiding love. She understood how difficult it was to love again once it was gone, and she understood why someone wouldn’t want to.

Until five seconds ago she would have said she was one of those people who wouldn’t want to. She still thought of Jeff, still loved and cherished the memories of what she’d shared with him, but damn it, he was gone, and had been for so very, very long. She was tired of being lonely, tired of being alone and desperately tired of sex that only just barely scratched an itch.

Terrifying as it was, she wanted more. “She…left you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Her heart cracked. “And you never recovered.”

“Recovered?” He considered that for a long moment. “No. I never recovered,” he agreed, and the cracks in her heart gave, breaking into pieces because she knew, she knew what he meant.

“How long ago?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Four years.”

“Do you still l-”

“Taylor.” He rubbed his eyes. “Maybe we could talk about something else. Anything else.”

“Like…?”

“Jeff.” His eyes softened when she gasped. “Your sister mentioned him. Said he was the love of your life.” He ran a finger over her jaw.

“Was,” she repeated quietly.

“What happened?”

“We were days away from eloping, and he…um, he died. In a car accident.”

Swearing softly, he used all his fingers now, sank them into her hair line. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry because he’d asked, or sorry because he was the first man to make her remember what it was like to feel a rush of so many dizzying emotions she could hardly breathe?

“Where does this leave us, Mac?” Leaning in, she rested a hand on his chest. “I need to know.”

“It leaves us hot and achy.”

She spread her fingers wide on his chest, touching as much of him as she could. “So we’re not going to…” Her hand trailed to his belly button, and would have maybe drifted further south if he hadn’t caught it in his.

A genuinely pained groan escaped him. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’m trying to feel better.”

In a move that brought tears to her eyes, Mac brought her fingers to his mouth. “Touching you, kissing every inch of you, sinking into your body, that would most definitely make me feel better.”

Hearing the erotic words whispered with such sensual intent made her shudder. Yes. Yes, it would make her feel better, too.

Now, please.

“But what about after?” He stroked a finger over her shoulder. “This thing won’t just go away with one trip to the bedroom.”

“So let’s make it two,” she said recklessly.

“I’m serious.”

“It’s not like you’re moving to another planet after this job,” she said with a teasing smile that faded when he just looked at her, his eyes filled with both heat and regret. She forced a laugh past the lump in her throat, because for the first time she was making the move, putting herself on the line, and it was scary as hell, especially given she was about to be flatly rejected. “What? You’re busy already?”

“Taylor.” God, the sound of her name on his lips, in that low, gruff, tortured voice.

And she knew. He was walking away from this before they even got started. Which, damn it, is exactly what she’d wanted, too. Until right now, right this very moment. “Don’t. Don’t say it, Mac.”

“I can’t give you what you want.” His expression was a mask of torment. “I just can’t.”