Messing With Mac

“Trust me, these are going to get you very lucky tonight.” Then she kissed him, one quick smacking kiss on the lips.

With a laugh, he wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her tight. “Aren’t I just?”

He set her down, and Taylor put one hand on her head to steady her hat, and one on his chest to steady herself. Still smiling, she craned her neck and checked the street before crossing.

And went utterly still.

Mac stood out front of her building, looking right at her. Funny, how her heart leaped. Or maybe it wasn’t funny at all.

He wore the Levi’s with the hole over the knees, a dark T-shirt and a scowl the likes of which she hadn’t seen since that very first day when he’d looked at her as if she were the bug on his windshield.

She hadn’t seen him yet today, so she couldn’t be the cause of the scowl. Honestly, men…she had no idea what had crawled up his-

Ty still had an arm over her shoulders as he peered past her contractor to the building behind him. “What a beauty she’s turning out to be. Wonder who your genius architect is?” Grinning, he set his cheek to hers.

Mac’s scowl deepened, and with delightful understanding, Taylor grinned, too.

Oh, yes, she’d just figured out that frown.

Ridiculous as it was, the fool man was jealous.

15

MAC STOOD THERE out front of Taylor’s building, envelope in hand, watching the woman he’d rushed over to show it to hug and kiss another man.

That he knew and respected that man and his work didn’t help. He didn’t care if Ty Patrick O’Grady was her architect or her trash guy, the impact of seeing them cozying up was the same.

God, he felt like an ass standing there, when only a moment ago he’d been giddy, and hot as hell. He had figured he’d tell her the news, then start off by kissing her senseless, and from there talk his way right up the stairs to her apartment and her very frilly bed.

They’d make good use out of all those ridiculous pillows she had, and burn off some badly needed tension while they were at it.

And then afterwards, they’d go on their merry way as they had before, sated and relaxed, until the next time the tension got to be too much.

In which case he’d gallantly offer his body yet again.

It was a system that would work well for both of them, he had decided, and no one need get hurt. In fact, the only regret he had was wasting the past few days thinking instead of doing.

Bottom line, Taylor had been hurt, too, and she, more than any other woman, understood not wanting to get hurt again. They could be together without really being together.

All parties happy.

Or so he’d thought. But that was before she’d moved on, and had climbed into another man’s arms.

He understood, they hadn’t had anything exclusive. Hell, he’d made it crystal clear he hadn’t wanted exclusive, but damn, his bed was barely cold from the night they’d spent in it.

He remembered everything. No doubt he still had the fingernail marks on his butt from her eager, demanding hands. She’d mewled and clung and cried out his name, and if memory served right-and he knew damn well it did- she’d woken him up, twice, with her own hungry demands for more.

So it hadn’t been all him, damn it.

Screw it. Since Taylor was still hugging Ty, Mac spun on his heel and went back to his truck. He got caught in traffic, which really topped off his mood, then stalked through his dark house and stared down at his bed.

Unmade and lit by the moon, all he could remember when he looked at it was tangled limbs, breathless pleas and a pleasure so great it had been painful, physically painful, to let her go.

It was still painful.

HE WAS GONE. Taylor couldn’t believe it. By the time she crossed the street, Mac had left. She calmly finished her business with Ty, then went upstairs, because this was going to require a clothing change. She prepared herself with a sort of adrenaline rush she didn’t think she should be proud of. Amusement and fury.

Fury and amusement.

She would wear siren red because it suited her. The matching do-me shoes with the five-inch spiked heels were a bonus because she figured she could always take them off and hit the stubborn, idiotic lug over the head with them to make herself feel better.

Oh, he had some nerve, shooting her that scathing look and then vanishing.

She washed up, waxed, shined and polished, all the silly female rituals that usually made her feel better. Calmer.

And pictured him suffering the entire time. She really shouldn’t be proud of the fact she wanted him to suffer.

The sight of his truck in his driveway made her giddy with relief. He was home, and he would listen to her while she told him all the reasons she was mad at him, and then she’d walk back out to her car in her sexy little dress, picturing him cross-eyed with lust behind her, solid in the knowledge that she drove him as crazy as he drove her.

She’d sleep well knowing he was lying awake staring at his ceiling, calling himself every kind of name for letting her walk out of his life.

That’s right, she’d sleep well. Then she would wake up tomorrow and move on. And now that she knew her heart worked again, she’d go find a man who could appreciate that.

And her.

He didn’t answer her knock. The fury built back up. Ignoring her, was he? She knocked again, harder, determined to see this out.

She simply had to share this anger, or she was going to blow up.

She lifted her fist again, but the door opened so unexpectedly she almost solidly rapped him on the nose.

He didn’t even flinch, not this man with nerves of steel. No, he just cocked a brow and propped the doorway open with his shoulder.

His naked shoulder, because all he wore was a… She gulped hard and struggled to maintain eye con tract.

A damn towel. His entire body was pebbled with water drops. Given that, and the fact his hair was wet, too, and she realized she’d gotten him out of the shower.

Her traitorous body quivered at the thought of his long, leanly muscled body in the steam, water cascading down his tanned, sleek skin, his head back, his eyes closed in ecstasy as the hot water beaded over him.

Oh good Lord, now she could hardly breathe.

His eyes, those light, light eyes, traveled slowly up her body. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

“Fancy that.”

“What is it you need?”

“It’s…rather complicated.”

“Is it? That’s a shame then, as I’m running a bit late.”

“This can’t wait, Mac.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m going to get dressed.”

She followed him down the hall to the very bedroom where he’d once upon a time rocked her entire world.

Casual as he pleased, he dropped his towel.

“What are you doing?” she croaked, but didn’t look away, not even to blink as he shoved those long, long legs and mouthwatering ass into a pair of pants.

Turning to her as he zipped them up, she had a moment to wish he’d shifted around just a second sooner-

“I’m dressing for my parents’ anniversary party.”

A white dress shirt came next, covering that wide chest that hadn’t come from any gym, but years of hard