The Other Side of Us (Harlequin Superromance) (20 page)

He pinched her nipple firmly enough to make her squirm.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

She retaliated by sliding a hand between their bodies, stroking
him through his jeans. He let her taunt him for a few minutes before lifting her
bodily off his lap.

“Let’s go check out your view again,” he said.

They kissed in the lift going up, and when they entered
Mackenzie’s apartment she started to strip as she made her way to the bedroom.
Her top, her jeans, her socks and shoes, until she was wearing nothing but silky
dark green panties and a balconette bra as she entered her bedroom.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he said, unable to
take his eyes off the rounded curves of her backside.

She didn’t say a word, simply gave him a Cleopatra smile before
unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off his shoulders. She tackled his belt
next, then pushed his jeans down his hips. His erection sprang free, and she
sank to her knees to push his jeans the rest of the way down. She looked up at
him, a wicked, knowing glint in her eye, and he barely had a chance to
appreciate the picture she presented before she pressed a kiss to his belly and
inhaled audibly.

“You smell so damn good.”

She pulled back, focusing on his erection. He grew harder as
she licked her lips, running her fingers through the springy hair at the base of
his shaft. She was enjoying teasing him, and he was enjoying being teased.

She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and guided him into
her mouth, teasing his head with her tongue before taking all of him. Sensation
assailed him—heat and moisture, the knowing flick of her tongue, the firm grip
of her hand.

She drew back, licking the length of him.

“You taste good, too. Like clean skin and hot man.”

He was beyond speech. It was all he could do to remain standing
as she went to town on him, using her hands and lips and tongue to drive him
wild. He could feel his climax building, could feel the heat of it in his belly.
He wanted to come like this so badly, but he wanted to be inside her, too,
giving her as much pleasure as she was giving him.

Even though it almost killed him, he eased away from her. She
looked up at him, slightly dazed, her mouth wet and pink.

“Get on the bed.”

He didn’t need to ask twice. She blinked, the dazed look
leaving her face, then she stood and shimmied out of her panties and bra. She
lay down on the bed and lifted her hips obediently when he slipped a pillow
beneath her backside. They’d discovered that the small increase in height made
it comfortable for her when he was on top, something he’d been more than happy
to exploit to the full. He was all for equal opportunity, but sometimes a man
just needed to be in charge.

Mackenzie watched as he smoothed on a condom, then welcomed him
home when he stretched out on top of her.

As always, the first slide of his body inside hers was
transcendent. The rightness of it, the sense of connection. Then the insistent,
greedy ache of his arousal required that he start to move, and before long he
was lost in the rhythm of it and the tidal pull of desire.

She came quickly, her breath coming in choppy pants, and even
though he was close, he held on, his teeth gritted. He kept stroking into her,
then he stroked her with his hand, a counterpoint to the thrust of his hips
inside her. She came a second time and finally he let himself go, his face
pressed into her neck as his body shuddered into hers.

Her body was damp with sweat and he paused to lick between her
breasts before withdrawing from her. She gave a small shudder, shifting her hips
restlessly.

“Want to hear something funny?” she said as he stood and headed
for the bathroom to lose the condom.

“What?”

He padded to the bed, stopping in his tracks when he realized
that instead of opaque glass he was staring out at the view.

“I forgot to blank the window,” Mackenzie said.

“No shit.”

The glass went opaque as he returned to the bed and Mackenzie
gave him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already thought of a way you can make it up
to me.”

She smiled drowsily. “Let me guess.” She rolled onto one elbow
and lazily smoothed a hand over his chest. Her gaze grew thoughtful and he knew
without asking that she was thinking about the call from her boss.

“How’s that list of pros and cons going?” he asked.

“I think I’m still freaking out. This little voice in the back
of my head keeps telling me what a great opportunity it is and asking how I
could possibly not take it. But the new ideas I have for Mary are so clear in my
mind, I can practically
see
how this documentary is
going to look.”

“You want to talk it through?”

She considered for a beat, then met his gaze. “Not just yet. I
need to process a little more. Get past the shock and my first panicky reaction
to grab on to what Gordon’s offering, no matter what. Is that okay?” She looked
worried, as though she though he would be wounded because she wasn’t discussing
it with him.

“Of course.”

Her expression softened. “Thanks. For everything. For finding
Mary and being so great about searching through all those boxes—”

“Not to mention for being so awesome in bed.”

She laughed, her breath warming his chest. “I can’t believe I
haven’t mentioned that, like, a million times already. Very remiss of me.”

He trailed a hand down her side. “Did I mention I’ve already
thought of a way you can make that up to me?”

She allowed him to draw her closer. “I seem to have a lot of
making-up scheduled.”

“I know. Better get started.”

They fooled around a little, teasing one another. After a few
minutes he nuzzled a kiss into her neck, then lifted his head. “Where did you
want to go to dinner?”

“Right. Dinner.” There was an odd note in her voice that caught
his attention.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“How would you feel if we didn’t stay the night in the city and
we went back to the beach instead?”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.” He wasn’t invested either way,
and it would be no hardship to say goodbye to this apartment.

Her gaze scanned his face, worried. “You really don’t mind? You
didn’t have your heart set on a big-city meal and bright lights?”

“Nope.”

She looked relieved. “Good. Because I really don’t want to
spend the night in this place.” She glanced at him. “Does that sound nuts?”

She’d surprised him. This was her place, after all. Her primary
place of residence. “Why don’t you want to stay?”

“It just doesn’t feel...right. I can’t explain it any better
than that. The coffee, the Coke, the shoes. This carpet, that window. I feel as
though they belong to another life. To another me.” She made an embarrassed
noise. “That really does sound nuts, doesn’t it?”

She was frowning and he reached out to smooth her brow.

“You haven’t lived here for a while, that’s all.”

“I guess. Although, when I look around, I wonder if I ever
lived here. I was always so busy working. Those books out in the living
room—I’ve probably read about ten percent of them. I think I’ve used the oven
only half-a-dozen times. When I bought this place after the divorce, I thought
it would be great for dinner parties, but I was always too snowed at work to
host any sort of party.”

She sounded bemused, and he was reminded, again, of what a
profound impact the accident had had on her life.

“Maybe you can have a dinner party when you move back.” He felt
an odd pang as he imagined Mackenzie hosting a party in her fabulous apartment
at some unknown future time. It was a million miles away from the world they
shared together at the beach.

“Yeah, maybe.” Her gaze was troubled as she looked at him. She
started to say something, then shook her head.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shifted to the edge of the bed. “If we leave
now, we should be home in time for dinner.”

She stood. He watched as she started to dress, turning away to
pull on her jeans. The bumps of her vertebrae looked incredibly fine and fragile
as they marched down her back. He wondered what she’d been about to say, and why
she’d chosen not to say it.

Something about her apartment or Gordon’s job offer, maybe?

Something about him?

Oliver knew he should ask, but he wasn’t ready for what she
might say if it was the latter. Not yet.

There was still time yet. Ten more days.

Following her lead, he started to get dressed.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

S
MITTY
WAS
WAITING
by
the door when they arrived at her cottage. Mackenzie prepared herself for the
happy dance, but instead he whined anxiously and trotted up the hallway,
glancing over his shoulder to see if she was following him. She realized Strudel
was missing and threw Oliver an uncertain glance as he followed her inside.

“Something up?”

“I don’t know.”

They found the dogs in the living room, Smitty standing over
Strudel, his tail down. Strudel glanced at them from beneath her eyebrows but
didn’t move, the tip of her tail barely twitching in welcome.

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you okay?” Oliver said, crouching to run
a hand down her body.

She turned her head to lick his hand briefly before closing her
eyes again. It was so removed from her usual buoyant behavior that Mackenzie
felt a spike of alarm.

“Maybe the bone didn’t agree with her?” she wondered out
loud.

She glanced around, looking for it, and spotted a gelatinous
mess by the French doors.

“Oh. It looks like she’s thrown up.”

Oliver followed her gaze, his face creased with worry.

“Has she ever done that before?” she asked.

“Not since she was a puppy. She used to eat the filling from
her toys and then throw it up a few days later. But she hasn’t done that for
over a year.”

Mackenzie joined him by Strudel, patting the dog’s silky
coat.

“What do you want to do? Take her to the vet?”

“Is there one nearby?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve been to a clinic in Rosebud a few times,
but I don’t know if there’s anything closer.” She checked her watch. It was
nearly seven. “But they probably wouldn’t be open now, even if there was one
nearby.”

As though she sensed their dilemma, Strudel pushed herself to
her feet and started wagging her tail in earnest, nuzzling her snout into
Oliver’s hand.

“Okay,” he said slowly. The look he gave Mackenzie was
baffled.

She shrugged. She had no idea what to do, either. “This is
where a basic grasp of English from you two would be really handy,” she said to
the dogs.

Oliver ran his hands over his dog, pressing on her belly,
checking her paws and eyes. Strudel tolerated the inspection happily enough,
waiting patiently for it to be over.

“Well, I’m a sound engineer, not a vet, but she seems okay to
me.”

“She’s not quite herself, though, is she?” Mackenzie said.

“No.” He scratched under Strudel’s chin. “Why don’t we keep an
eye on her, and if she’s still lethargic in the morning, I’ll take her to the
vet?”

He didn’t voice the other option—that her condition might
deteriorate even further—but they both knew the possibility was there.

Mackenzie was aware of a low level of anxiety within herself as
she made spaghetti for dinner, something she’d like to attribute to concern for
Strudel but that she suspected had been present since their arrival at her
Melbourne apartment.

It had been unsettling, walking into a space that had felt more
like a museum celebrating her former life than her home. The furniture, the food
in the cupboards, even the toiletries in the bathroom had looked familiar but
strange. She’d always been proud of the decor—she’d paid an interior designer
enough to create it for her—but all she could think when she stood in her living
room was that the couch looked incredibly uncomfortable and that the sculpture
by the window was dangerously sharp.

The whole experience had been jarring. As though she’d spied an
old family snapshot and not recognized herself.

Gordon’s phone call and subsequent job offer hadn’t helped,
either. Despite having had several hours to digest what had happened, she was
still no closer to making a decision—yet another marker of how everything in her
life had shifted since the accident. Home wasn’t home anymore, and apparently
her ever-present ambition had mellowed.

At least, that was the way it felt right now. But maybe Oliver
was right. Maybe she had only to move into her apartment and it would become
home again. The same with Gordon’s job offer. If she took it, she’d essentially
be slipping back into her old life.

It should have been a reassuring thought. It was what she’d
been striving for through months of arduous rehab, after all. But it didn’t feel
reassuring. It felt...empty. Hollow.

They settled in for a quiet night, turning in early after
watching half a movie. Mackenzie was aware of Oliver getting up twice in the
night to check on Strudel, but both times he returned to bed and assured her
everything was fine.

Strudel wasn’t interested in her breakfast the next morning,
however, sniffing her bowl disinterestedly before returning to the cushion and
settling down to sleep again.

“I could defrost some chicken to see if she’ll eat that,”
Mackenzie offered.

“Thanks, but I’m going to take her to the vet,” he said.

She would do the same in his shoes. She stayed with Strudel
while he went next door to shower and change, patting the schnauzer
soothingly.

“You’re okay, aren’t you, girl?” she crooned.

She hoped she was correct, because she didn’t even want to
contemplate how horrible it would be if there was something wrong with
Strudel.

Oliver was back quickly, his hair wet.

“I’ll come with you. Give me a couple of minutes to dress,” she
said.

“It’s okay. I have no idea how long we’ll be and there’s no
need for both of us to waste a day.”

If it
was
a waste, of course.
Mackenzie fervently hoped it was.

She was tempted to insist, wanting to be there for him, but he
seemed impatient to go and she didn’t want to overstep the mark. They were only
temporary lovers, after all.

“Well, call me the minute you know anything, okay?” she
said.

“Give me your number and I’ll save it into my phone.”

She blinked in surprise at the request. They’d been living in
each other’s pockets for nearly three weeks now, and yet they hadn’t even
exchanged phone numbers. It seemed almost unbelievable given the times they
lived in.

She pulled her scrambled thoughts together. “It’s O-4-3-0—”

“Wait. Damn. My phone’s dead.”

She walked to the bench and grabbed her phone from her bag.

“Take mine. I’ll charge yours while you’re gone, and you can
call me on your number.”

They both had the same phone model, so there would be no issues
with her charger fitting his phone.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

She helped him herd Strudel out to his car, then stood on the
front porch with Mr. Smith and waved them off as they reversed into the
street.

“Please, Universe, let Strudel be okay,” she said, casting her
gaze heavenward.

If she wasn’t— She didn’t want to think about it. Oliver had
suffered enough loss and unhappiness in his life recently. He was due some
luck.

Tense with worry, she went inside to pace and fret.

* * *

O
LIVER
KEPT
ONE
eye on
the road and the other on the rearview mirror as he drove, constantly checking
to insure Strudel was coping okay. She seemed fine, her tongue lolling as she
gazed out the window for a bit before settling down and going to sleep.

He told himself she was probably fine and that he was being a
fussy helicopter fur parent, but his gut was still uneasy.

If something was wrong with his dog...

No. He couldn’t let himself go there. He’d take this one step
at a time, save the freaking out for when it was needed.
If
it was needed.

Mackenzie had drawn him a map to help him find the vet clinic
and he found his way there with only one wrong turn—quite the achievement given
his navigational handicap. The woman behind the counter gave him a brisk smile
when he approached, Strudel padding obediently at his side.

“We need to see a vet. I don’t have an appointment, but I think
this is an emergency,” he told her.

“Okay. Have you been here before?”

“No.”

She passed over some forms for him to fill out and told him it
would be a fifteen-minute wait. He sat on one of the uncomfortable plastic
chairs and filled out the form with one hand, the other resting comfortingly on
Strudel’s shoulder. She was still just a baby, really, only eighteen months old.
Surely there couldn’t be anything serious wrong with her?

He’d just handed the clipboard with the form to the
receptionist when Mackenzie’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked the screen,
wondering if he should simply let it go through to voice mail. He didn’t want to
invade her privacy.

Then it occurred to him that it might be her calling him, and
that if she was worried about her privacy she wouldn’t have lent him her
phone.

“Who the hell is Mackenzie and why does she have your phone?”
his brother said the moment the call connected.

“Brent. How did you get this number?”

“How do you think I got it? I rang your phone, and
Mackenzie
answered it and gave me this number. Which
is
her
phone, apparently.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re a little excited,”
Oliver said drily.

“So would you be if you rang me and a strange woman answered
the phone.”

“Unclench. Mackenzie is my neighbor. Our neighbor, technically,
since you own half the house.”

“That still doesn’t explain why she has your phone.”

Oliver sighed. The receptionist was giving him a look to let
him know she didn’t appreciate being forced to eavesdrop on his conversation.
Signaling to her that he’d be outside, he and Strudel exited to the parking
lot.

“My phone was dead and I needed to take Strudel to the vet, so
Mackenzie offered me hers.”

“Mighty generous of her.”

“She’s a nice person.” Oliver could feel his brother burning to
ask the obvious but Oliver wasn’t about to make it easy for him.

“How old is this Mackenzie person?” Brent asked.

“I don’t know for sure. About my age, I’d say.”

“Is she married?”

“Nope.”

“You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

“Not really your business, mate.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes. Wow. You don’t muck around,
do you?”

Irritation ate at the edges of Oliver’s temper.

“In case you’d forgotten, Edie is the one who screwed up our
marriage, not me.” Yeah, okay. So there were some vestiges of anger about his
marriage hanging about his psyche. And how like his brother to find those
buttons and push them. “Was there a reason you called, other than to interrogate
me about stuff that has nothing to do with you?”

“You can’t tell me you’re getting jiggy with some unknown woman
four months after your marriage ends and expect me to not have an opinion.”

“First, I didn’t tell you anything—you guessed and assumed.
Second, it’s been nearly five months. And I don’t need your permission or
approval to have a private life.”

It came out sounding angrier and more serious than he’d
intended and he could feel his brother’s surprise radiating down the line.

“Okay. Calm down. I only want to make sure you’re not jumping
into anything crazy.”

Oliver glanced through the glass panel in the clinic door,
willing the vet to call him in so he’d have an ironclad excuse for bailing on
this conversation.

“I appreciate the concern, but you need to stop worrying about
me, okay? I’m fine. In fact, I’m better than fine. I’m good.”

“Guys do weird things when they get divorced, Ollie. Trust me,
I’ve seen it. They buy stuff they can’t afford and hook up with women they
shouldn’t hook up with—”

“Mackenzie isn’t like that, okay? She’s smart and she’s funny
and she has the second-coolest dog in the world. So put your smelling salts
down, I don’t need an intervention.”

There was a small pause. “You sound pretty serious about
her.”

Oliver let his breath hiss out between his teeth. Then he
laughed, because it was either that or throw Mackenzie’s phone across the
parking lot in exasperation.

“Let’s get this out of the way. Yes, I am serious about her.
She’s special. She makes me feel good. I think you’d like her. Happy now?”

“Mate, it’s been
four months.
”

“Five months, and I’m not turning my back on something good
because the numbers are wrong. Mackenzie and I are good together. I know what
I’m doing.”

“Ollie, listen to me. There is an extremely high likelihood
that thanks to what happened with Edie your head is still up your ass in some
capacity right now. Anything you get into is going to be swayed by that. There’s
a reason people have mourning periods, you know. To give themselves time to
decompress.”

Oliver glared at the road. “Since when did you have a
psychology degree?”

“Simply stating the facts, that’s all.”

“You know what? I need to go.”

He should have ended this conversation ages ago. Like the
moment Brent started the I-know-best older-brother routine.

“You know I’m right.”

And there it was, right on cue.

“I’ll speak to you later, okay?”

“Ollie, don’t hang up. Just listen to me, okay? Statistically
most guys remarry within a year of getting divorced.”

“So?” His brother loved statistics. No wonder he was an
accountant.

“So you probably want to be sure that you’re jumping into
something because you really want it, not because you’ve gotten comfortable
living your life a certain way.”

Oliver snorted his disbelief. “Right. I’m so desperate to have
a joint bank account and someone leaving the toilet seat down again that I’m
going to latch on to the first passing woman.”

“Can you honestly say there isn’t a part of you trying to
replace what Edie took away from you?”