MacKenzie's Lady Page 10

  Only he wouldn't be there to receive that smile. He would be sitting in the chief's office, trying to explain why he didn't have more information about Holly's brother.

  "Relax. Remember you're supposed to be the calm half of this partnership."

  Mac looked over at Ken and smiled, forcing his body to relax. "I am relaxed."

  "Sure you are. Why don't you stop clenching your fists, then?"

  Mac's smile faded as he looked down at his taut hands. With a conscious effort he spread his fingers out and then eased them into a natural position.

  He stood away from the wall and then leaned back against it, controlling the urge to pace back and forth across the small office. He was aware of Ken's eyes on him, their look quizzical but with an underlying concern in them. The other man opened his mouth but before he could say anything, the door to the inner office opened and Livvie was waving them through.

  Mac went through first, and as he entered the office, Chief Daniels turned away from the window and limped toward them. Mac was reminded of the last time he had been called into Daniels's office.

  "Donahue. Richardson." Daniels nodded briefly to each of them as he sat down behind the desk. "Have a seat." He waited until the two agents were seated across from him before speaking again.

  "There hasn't been much progress on the Reynolds case." The words and tone were both mild. He might have been commenting on the weather but both men sat a little stiffer.

  "There hasn't been much to report, sir," Mac said.

  Daniels nodded. "True. We haven't been able to pinpoint any new shipments and Reynolds—if he's the one we're after—has been lying pretty low." He paused and shifted some papers on his desk. He picked up a photograph and studied it.

  "Holly Reynolds." Mac stiffened, catching Ken's glance from the corner of his eye. Daniels let the name hang between them for a moment and then his eyes swept up to meet Mac's. "She's a very attractive woman."

  Mac said nothing, his eyes a cold blue as he watched the older man. He would trust Daniels with his life—and had on a number of occasions—but when it came to Holly, Mac trusted no one. Not even himself.

  Daniels dropped the photo and linked his fingers together, his elbows on the desk. "I understand that she's pretty much living in your house. Is her apartment being fumigated?"

  "No, sir."

  "I hadn't heard of any mud slides in that part of town."

  "No, sir."

  Daniels met Mac's unwavering gaze and seemed to give a sigh. "You're very stubborn, Donahue. That's a good trait in an agent. You and Richardson are one of our best teams. One of the reasons I gave you this assignment was that it wasn't moving real fast. This kind of thing can go months without much happening. I felt the two of you could use the break. Your interest in Ms Reynolds seemed to make it that much easier. Now I'm not so sure."

  "Are you pulling us off the case?" Ken asked the question.

  Daniels frowned. "I don't want to. That kind of thing is always untidy. Too much paperwork and too much time lost while we try to get someone else in. The two of you have done a fine job. Richardson, you've managed to pass yourself off as an art collector who doesn't much care where your acquisitions come from, and you've gotten close to Reynolds's sister, Mac. I'm not saying you haven't done a good job."

  "Then what are you saying?"

  If Daniels heard the ice in Mac's tone, he ignored it. "Conflict of interest. It's obvious that you're personally involved with Ms Reynolds. How is she going to react if you're instrumental in putting her brother away?"

  "She'd hate my guts. But we don't know that her brother is guilty."

  "We don't know that he isn't, either," Daniels returned. "Are you going to be able to continue your job without letting personal feelings influence you? Because if you can't,

  I'd rather pull you off the case now than see you ruin a good record by blowing it later."

  Mac appeared perfectly relaxed. His fingers rested lightly on the arm of the chair; his lashes drooped lazily over his eyes, concealing their expression. Only the muscle that ticked in his jaw revealed inner turmoil.

  "If James Reynolds is the man we're looking for, he's dealing with the kind of people who wouldn't think twice about using his sister as leverage against him. I'll do whatever is necessary to put him away."

  Daniels's eyes traveled searchingly over the other man's face and then he nodded. "All right. I'll accept your word on it. The two of you can get back to work. See that you make your reports as scheduled." He waited until they were at the door before he spoke again.

  "Richardson, be careful how you spend the department's money. Six hundred dollars for a pair of boots seems a little excessive," he finished with a sardonic smile.

  ❧

  Neither of them spoke until they were seated in a dim lounge a few blocks away from the agency office. Mac slid his fingers around the short glass and lifted it to his mouth, taking a hearty swallow before setting it down on the table with a faint thud.

  "Six hundred dollars?" He raised one brow as he looked at his partner.

  Ken grinned. "Lizard skin. There's this guy down in Texas who makes them special order."

  "Six hundred dollars?"

  "Well, I'm trying to pass myself off as a wealthy art collector. I've got to look the part."

  "It's a good thing you decided to go into law enforcement. I hate to think how much damage you could have done as a master criminal."

  "I know. I think of all the money I could have made." He shook his head regretfully. "It does seem a bit of a waste. But when your dad is a cop, it's hard to get the right angle on being a crook."

  "Your talents haven't gone completely to waste. You could always get hold of the most amazing things in Saigon and you can't tell me that you didn't do a bit of fancy footwork occasionally."

  "What can I say? When you've got it, you've got it."

  Mac's smile gradually faded and he took another swallow of Scotch, signaling to the waitress for a refill.

  Ken's eyes moved over his friend with shrewd understanding. "Kind of reminds me of that bar in Tijuana. Of course, it's safe to drink the booze here and it's a bit cleaner."

  Mac said nothing and Ken waited until the waitress had replaced Mac's empty glass with a full one before speaking again.

  "How's Holly?"

  "Fine. She's planning on roping you in to help with the school athletic program in a week or two. She says she's sure you're a natural when it comes to kids."

  "Sadistic, isn't she. I suppose it won't kill me. Besides, I've already figured out that it doesn't do any good to argue with Holly once she's determined that you're going to do something."

  "She does have a way of getting what she wants."

  Again silence fell between them.

  "It isn't going to be easy."

  "Nope." Mac signaled for another drink.

  "It's a hell of a position to be in."

  "Yup." He swallowed some of the new Scotch. There was a pleasant buzzing in his ears that seemed to help muffle the pain in his chest.

  "Are you worried that I'm not going to be able to support my end of things because I'm involved with Holly?"

  "No-o-o." Ken drew the word out, turning his glass between his fingers as he considered the question. "No, I know you won't let me down. You never have and we've been in situations tougher than this."

  He finished his whiskey and signaled for another one. "But this is a lousy time to be falling in love and I don't see why you had to fall in love with the chief suspect's sister."

  "I know. Bad planning all around." Mac swallowed the last of his drink as the waitress brought Ken his second. "Bring us two more, please."

  Ken looked at him, his brows raised, and Mac gave him a smile from which alcohol had erased all but the smallest traces of pain.

  "You don't intend to let me get drunk alone, do you?"

  "Is that what you're planning on doing?"

  "You bet. Tonight is a great night to get drunk. We should cel
ebrate."

  Ken was amenable but curious. "Sounds fine to me. What are we celebrating?"

  "We'll drink to a full moon. If it isn't full now, it will be one of these days."

  ❧

  It wasn't a full moon, a fact that Holly could have told Mac if he'd been there to ask. She knew it wasn't a full moon because she spent a lot of time looking out the window, waiting for him to come home.

  It was a little after ten the last time she checked and she let the curtain drop with a sigh. He had told her not to expect him at any particular time and she had asked no questions. That was one thing she had promised herself. She would never ask questions when it came to his work.

  She wandered into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of lukewarm tea, grimacing at the strong bite of it. She would never learn to make tea like Maryann. It was either too weak or too strong. Maybe she should just go back to her own apartment and have a nice cup of tea with Maryann and go to sleep in her own bed and put Mackenzie Donahue out of her mind, at least for tonight.

  She sighed and swallowed some more of the tea. The problem with that was that Maryann was working the night shift again and she wouldn't be home. Besides, the apartment they had shared for the last four years no longer felt like home.

  She carried her cup into the living room and sat down to stare into the empty fireplace. The trouble was that right now, she wasn't sure just where home was. This house felt like home when Mac was here.

  Mac. She leaned back and closed her eyes. Where was he right now? Was he safe? She swallowed a lump in her throat and forced the question away. Holly had already learned that she couldn't think of what might be happening to Mac when he was away from her. He never spoke of his job but it didn't take a genius to realize that there was a certain amount of danger that went along with being an undercover detective.

  He kept his job and his personal life separate and she couldn't fault him for that. She wasn't sure whether it would be better or worse to actually know what he was doing. Sometimes she thought that her imagination conjured up worse demons than anything he could present her with, but then she was afraid that if she had actual confirmation of her worst fears, she wouldn't be able to deal with them anymore.

  It was nights like this that were the worst. She sat in the house that was not quite a home and she had nothing to do but think of what might be happening. She sat up straight and took a deep breath. She was not going to spend another minute worrying. Mac had a lot of experience in his line of work and he was still alive to talk about it.

  In less than two weeks the school year would be over and she was going to have a whole summer to play. She would have three months with no commitments and nothing to do but concentrate on Mac and the relationship they were building. Her face relaxed into a faint smile.

  As she drew nearer to thirty, Holly had begun to have occasional pangs of regret for roads not taken. It was not that thirty was such a great age, but each decade marked a significant new watershed in a woman's life. Some of her friends from college were married, had children, and were working their way up the corporate ladder. She hadn't envied those friends with high-powered careers. She admired their dedication and accomplishments but that wasn't what she wanted out of life.

  She had sometimes wondered if maybe she should have settled for something less than a passionate love and married one of the nice men she had gone out with during the last few years. She would have a nice home, a nice husband and children. She shivered now, thinking of what it would have been like to have her nice husband and her nice home, with perhaps a child and then to have met Mac—to love him and know that she could never have him because she had taken a safer road long before they'd met.

  Of course, if she'd taken that safer road, chances were she would never have known Mac. But she couldn't help but wonder if she wouldn't have known what she was missing. Somewhere inside, there would have been something that said she could have had so much more.

  She laid her hand lightly over her stomach. Of course, there was no saying that she was home free yet. As the weeks passed, it was becoming more likely that she was pregnant. Her period was already late but it could be just the emotional tension that went with worrying about it. She was faithfully using the diaphragm that Maryann's doctor friend had prescribed. It didn't seem quite fair that she should get pregnant from that one night's carelessness.

  She refused to dwell on the possibilities. She was either pregnant or she wasn't and worrying about it wasn't going to change it. Mac must have thought she was crazy, considering the way she had acted after their first night together, rushing him out of the house and then making lame excuses not to see him for two days. But she had made it up to him. A light flush came up in her cheeks as she remembered just how she had made it up to him.

  Starting that night, it seemed as if her belongings had started sprouting wings and flying off to Mac's house. She honestly couldn't remember how so many of her things had come to have places in his home. Her clothing hung next to his in the closet. Her toilet articles jostled his for space on the bathroom counter. Somehow she seemed to have moved in with him without planning it.

  Holly opened her eyes as the front door closed quietly. Mac came to a halt just inside the living room and leaned against a wall. He smiled slowly when he saw her.

  "Hello. Are you waiting up for me?"

  "Not exactly." She stretched the truth slightly. "I was just sitting here thinking. I didn't realize how late it was."

  "Were you thinking of me?" There was a boyish wistfulness in the question that was as charming as it was uncharacteristic.

  She stood up and moved toward him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. "As a matter of fact, I was thinking about you. I didn't hear you pull into the driveway."

  "I took a cab."

  "Why?"

  "Why what?" He blinked owlishly down at her as she came to stand in front of him.

  "Never mind," she muttered disgustedly. "You're drunk!"

  He frowned and considered the accusation before his mustache lifted in a smile that was almost beatific. "You're right. I'm a success. It's nice to know that I'm a success in at least one area. Where're we going?"

  Holly shook her head and tightened her hold on his fingers as she led him through the house. "I'm taking you to bed."

  "I love an aggressive woman."

  He stopped, drawing her to an abrupt halt and spinning her into his arms. Holly had barely a moment to draw a breath before his mouth came down on hers. Her toes dangled a few inches off the floor as his forearm slid beneath her bottom to lift her up against his hard frame.

  Hard, but not aroused, Holly realized dazedly a few minutes later. Mac's mouth nibbled distractingly beneath her ear and her body hummed. She arched her hips forward in automatic reaction and gave a sharp gasp when she felt his cold belt buckle against her stomach.

  She dragged her hands out of his hair and pushed irritably against his shoulders. "Put me down, you idiot!"

  He set her down instantly, a vague look of hurt in his eyes. "There's no need to get nasty."

  Her eyes sparked. She had been sitting up, worrying about him and he had the nerve to come home perfectly safe and loaded to the gills. How dare he worry her for no reason?

  "You're lucky I don't just let you pass out in the hall and sleep it off." She took hold of his hand and tugged him into the bedroom. "You're too drunk to be starting anything so just get your clothes off and get into bed and, if you're lucky, I won't wake you with a trumpet blast in the morning."

  He obediently started unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off his wide shoulders and tossing it onto a chair. Holly swallowed hard and turned away as he reached for his belt. He was drunk and she was irritated with him but the sight of that muscular chest was still enough to speed her pulse.

  She heard the thud of his jeans hitting the floor and turned back to look at him. He stood in the middle of the floor, his pants in a heap next to him, white cotton shorts his only covering a
nd his expression a mix of sleepiness and hope. He looked like a small boy who'd just accomplished a difficult task and was hoping for a pat on the head in reward.

  Despite herself, she smiled. "Get into bed before you pass out, lush." A few minutes later, she crawled into bed beside him and reached out to flip off the lamp. Immediately his hands sought her out in the darkness and pulled her against his body. His mouth nuzzled in her hair and his fingers cupped her breast.

  With a sigh she captured his fingers in hers. "Mac, you're too drunk to start anything. Take my word for it, you won't be able to finish it."

  He let her push him onto his back, sighing heavily as he realized the truth of her words. His mind wanted her but his body was slipping into sleep. "Maybe you're right," he mumbled into her hair.

  She settled her head into a more comfortable position against his shoulder. "I know I am. Now just go to sleep and in the morning, you'll feel much worse."

  "Heartless, aren't you."

  She giggled softly. "Serves you right." But her only answer was a soft snore.

  ❧

  Holly squinted against the bright sunlight and looked across the football field. She could just make out Mac's tall figure patiently dealing with a bruised knee. She smiled and sat down in the bleachers again, hardly aware of the hard seat.

  If she had ever wondered how Mac would deal with children, she was getting her answer today. She had been a little hesitant about asking him to help with the school's mini Olympics. What if it turned out that he hated children and wanted absolutely nothing to do with them? A stern voice had reminded her that if that was the case, it was better to find out now than later.