Enchanted (21 page)

“What?”

“Your cologne.”

He laughed. “Old Spice. Inexpensive and not very original. You like it?”

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes, leaned back against the headrest, and breathed deeply. “Smells wonderful.”

Mac groaned, then suddenly pulled the car over to the side of the road, hit the brakes, and stopped under the shade of the trees.

“Why are you stopping?”

He rolled down the window and a warm, summery breeze blew inside. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

Bewildered, Kathleen shook her head. “No.”

“That dress is a problem.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Oh, I like it. And I like what’s in it. That’s the problem. It leaves little to the imagination, and ever since you opened your door, I’ve been imagining what’s under it.”

“I hoped you’d like it.” She put her cool hand against his warm cheek.

“Damn.” He took her hand, sliding her fingers to his lips. “You’re driving me mad.”

“I don’t mean to,” she said in innocence.

“It doesn’t matter what you do. You can yell at me, kiss me, ignore me. You just seem to have gotten into my head, and I think you’re there to stay.”

“Do you want me out of your head?”

“No. I forced you out of my thoughts once before. I won’t do it again.”

“I hope you don’t. I couldn’t take it again.”

“Did it really matter to you before?”

“Matter? I think I cried every night for a week. And then I realized there’d never been anything real between us, that I had a crush on you and you already had Ashley. Then I told myself you couldn’t want someone as young and unsophisticated as me. But I still don’t know why you went away, or why you despised me so much when you came back.”

He brushed his fingers across her cheek, gently circling her lips with his thumb. “If we talk about this now, we’ll end up in a fight, and I don’t want that. Not this weekend.”

“We have to talk about it sometime. It’s standing between us.”

“Can’t we just forget it?”

“For tonight, yes. But not forever.”

She rested her hand on his leg, trying to read the expression on his face. But it was impossible. He squeezed her hand, turned the key in the ignition, and drove back onto the road.

Nearly five minutes passed in silence before he turned left down an elm-lined lane. Again he pulled to the side of the road, knowing he had to say something more.

“I’m not an easy man to live with. I’m stubborn and opinionated, and I’ve been that way for a very long time. I like to have things my way.”

“I know all that.”

“Hush,” he said, placing a finger to her lips. “I want to take you away somewhere, just you and me. No work, no family, no phones. Just you and me, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Will you talk to me then?”

“I’ll try.”

“When?”

“Next weekend.”

“But Julie’s coming home on Sunday.”

“Then we have all day Saturday.”

He looked so sweet and innocent when he said the words, but Kathleen knew there was nothing the least bit sweet and innocent about the weekend he would plan. She didn’t care. It’s what she wanted. What she needed.

“Mac?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to be late.”

He looked at his watch. His mother would kill him if he showed up after the guests began to arrive.

“We’re almost there. Just a little farther,” he said, once again driving down the road.

And then she saw it, looming magnificently in the c
learing ahead. Three stories, al
l of stone. The Georgian mansion stood regally before them at the base of a circular drive. Stone planter boxes lined the walk leading to the
massive entry
stairs. They spilled over with red and white geraniums, and blue delphiniums. Bush roses of every possible hue rimmed the circular drive.

She didn’t move when the car came to a stop. She sat breathless, taking a mental picture of Mac’s home. “It’s beautiful.”

He wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger and leaned toward her, gently kissing her lips. “Yes, very beautiful.”

A host of attendants filed out of the front door, stopping in two columns at the base of the steps. Their attire resembled the black-and-white livery worn one hundred years before by the servants in the homes of New York’s elite. Two men came to the car, one on each side, opening the doors in unison, and helped Kathleen and Mac from the sedan. He walked to her side, took her arm, and led her up the steps.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said, squeezing her hand.

How did he know? Throughout the hour-long trip, not once had she mentioned her anxiety. She could handle crucial business meetings, speeches before crowds, but she felt lost in the face of grand society and elegance.

A doorman stood stiff and proud on each side of the entry. Mac led Kathleen into the spacious hall, watching the many expressions passing across her face as she looked from the crystal chandelier hanging at the center of the three-story-high room, to the mahogany circular staircases on either side.

She wanted to hide, but instead she moved closer to Mac and whispered in his ear.

“I don’t belong here.”

Gallant and handsome and so obviously a part of his surroundings, he pulled her to him and kissed her nose. “I’m here, and you belong with me. Come on, let’s find my mother.”

They walked through the open double doors leading into the ballroom. Light from the fading sun shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows, its beams bouncing off the mirror-polished hardwood floors. She pulled him to a stop as they entered the room. She stood in awe, counting the number of windows. Ten—each one about fifteen feet high and three feet wide. If grandeur had described the entry hall, then opulence characterized this room. Richly carved mahogany paneling lined the walls. White lace drapes swagged at the windows. Round dining tables covered in white linen and lace, surrounded by white-brocade-cushioned Chippendale chairs, circled the room, leaving an area for dancing in the center. A chamber orchestra readied their instruments behind the black grand piano, set on a dais at the far end of the room. Tall, shimmering crystal vases filled with red and white long-stemmed roses sat atop each table. Kathleen had never seen such splendor.

Constance O’Brien gracefully entered the room dressed elegantly in black and white. A simple strand of pearls hung at her neck, with delicate pearls encircled by brilliant diamonds at her ears. “McKenna. Kathleen.” Mac bent over and kissed his mother, who absently adjusted that lock of hair that continually fell across his brow. She stood back and inspected the woman on her son’s arm. “Stunning, my dear. Absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you. You have a beautiful home, Mrs. O’Brien.”

Constance smiled. “Yes, I do. Tomorrow I’ll give you the grand tour.”

She linked arms with Kathleen and Mac. “We have a while before the other guests arrive. Why don’t we go into the library and have a drink.”

Kathleen couldn’t disguise her excitement as Mrs. O’Brien led them to the entry hall and through one of the doors on the right. The library was all and more than Kathleen had imagined. Dark wood, walls lined in book-filled shelves, over-stuffed couches and easy chairs in the center, with two additional chairs in front of the massive fireplace. Aubusson carpets pulled each furniture grouping together. Oh, how easily she could curl up on one of those couches, Kathleen thought, and let life pass by.

“What would you like?” Constance asked, standing before a sparkling array of crystal decanters and glasses.

“Nothing for me, thank you,” Kathleen said.

Mac followed Kathleen’s lead. “I’ll hold off, too.”

Constance O’Brien looked amazed. “Not even a beer?”

“I’m reforming.”

“I hope this is your doing, Kathleen. I’ve always thought my son drank too much beer.”

“He’s switched to Big Macs and Diet Coke. I don’t know if the change is for the better.”

“Excuse me, ladies,” Mac interrupted. “I believe we could find something more interesting to discuss than my eating habits.”

“Ah, but darling, y
ou’re such an interesting topic of conversation.” Mrs. O’Brien laughed, then poured herself a brandy, her smile turning to a pensive frown.

“We may have a problem tonight.”

“What kind of problem?” Mac asked.

“Ashley.”

Kathleen watched Mac’s lighthearted demeanor disappear. She tried to stay calm, but her churning insides betrayed her misery, and something wicked reached inside and clenched her heart.

“Is she here?” Mac looked toward his mother, praying the answer was no.

“She’s been here all day. She called early this morning and told George to send a car for her. The nerve of that woman— and now she’s talking to the caterers.”

“Talking?” Mac’s eyebrows raised, and for some reason which Kathleen couldn’t understand, his voice was tinged with amusement.

“Not exactly. I seem to recall her telling them the shrimp wasn’t right.”

“Poor man. What else has she found wrong?”

“
L
ittle things here and there. But, darling, we shouldn’t make light of this. There’s more involved than her thinking this is her party and that I’m not capable of managing alone.”

“Then what’s the real problem?”

“She was expecting you earlier, and she doesn’t know you’ve brought Kathleen.”

“You didn’t tell her?” Kathleen stared at Mac, stunned by this latest obstacle in their relationship.

“I didn’t see the need to.” Not one shred of comfort appeared on Mac’s face as he looked at Kathleen. “I told her before it’s over between us.”

“You may have told her, darling, but that doesn’t mean she listened, or understood,” Constance added.

“I just assumed she wouldn’t show up. My mind was on other matters.” He winked at Kathleen, but she couldn’t see his gesture, her eyes had already lowered to stare at her hands.

“Maybe I should leave,” she said, not wanting to get caught in a threesome.

“No!” Mac
slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her close to his side. “I want you here. I’ll deal with Ashley.”

“I wish you’d done that earlier.” Her face revealed little emotion as she looked into his eyes. “I don’t know what went on between the two of you all those years, but I do know if I were Ashley, I wouldn’t give you up easily.” She pulled away from Mac and walked across the room.

Mac started to follow when the door opened and Ashley breezed in.

“Mac, darling. You’re finally here.” Ashley floated into the room in a Victorian gown of blue taffeta tri
mmed in white lace with a red, w
hite, and blue bow decorating the bustle. She went straight to Mac, standing on tiptoes to kiss his lips.

“You look wonderful,” she said, twirling around to give him a better view of her entire dress. “What do you think? My dressmaker laughed when I told her what I wanted, but it’s perfect, isn’t it?”

“Charming.” Mac turned away, looking toward Kathleen, trying to catch her eye, wanting her to understand, hoping she wouldn’t leave.

Ashley followed his gaze. She glared at Kathleen. “You’re a little early. The invitation said eight o’clock.”

“She came with me,” Mac blurted out. He crossed the room and possessively pulled Kathleen back to his side.

“But, darling,” Ashley mewed. “I go to every party with you.”

“Kathleen, dear.” Following Mac’s lead, Constance joined her son and Kathleen. She slipped her hand around the younger woman’s arm, and gave Kathleen a comforting squeeze. “Why don’t we go into the ballroom and talk to the orchestra about tonight’s music.”

“I’ve already taken care of the music,” Ashley stated.

“Thank you, Ashley. But I have a few personal selections I’d like them to play. Come along, Kathleen.”

Mrs. O’Brien led Kathleen out of the room. Mac’s eyes followed. He didn’t want to be left alone with Ashley. He knew anything he said would lead to disaster. He felt all sense of warmth leave the room, and he was left standing in the cold, facing a woman he had long ago failed to understand. “Why are you here?”

“I thought you’d be with me tonight,” Ashley said, wiping the comer of her eye with a lace handkerchief she took from her blue taffeta bag.

“Have you forgotten our last two conversations? We’re history.”

“But—”

“Listen, Ash. Ten years is a long time. I understand that, and I know it’s hard to change.”

“I have no intention of changing. You’ll get over this thing you have for that woman, and I’ll be waiting.”

Mac’s eyes blazed as he desperately tried to stay composed. “Don’t wait.”

Ashley smirked. “You’ll get tired of her.”

“Whether I tire of her or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that I don’t want you any longer.”

As if Ashley had heard none of his words, her hands began a slow, calculated slide up to his shoulders. “Don’t my feelings enter into it?”