Messing with Mac. Jill ShalvisЧитать онлайн книгу.
learn and do all the things she’d done before.
But one thing had irrevocably changed. Now when she let a man in, it was simply to soothe a need, whether it be wanting to be held against his hard body, or merely needing a sexual release that didn’t come from something battery operated.
Nothing more, nothing less, as even now, nearly ten years later, she couldn’t imagine going through that soul-destroying love ever again.
“Princess?”
How could she have forgotten the very unforgettable man looking at her? The one man since Jeff she’d actually found herself yearning for.
There. The admission was out in the open, not that she was going to do anything about it. He was not, repeat not, her type. “I’m not allergic to a bit of dust.”
“You haven’t been breathing it in. Continue to stand there while we demo the hallway and your lungs will be burning within half an hour. Not to mention the pounding sinus headache that accompanies it.”
Was that concern? If so, it didn’t bear thinking about, as it might soften her toward him. And given her body’s response to his without letting her brain get into the mix, that would be just plain stupid. And dangerous.
“Thanks for the concern,” she said sweetly, and turned away. She entered her apartment, stripped now of all furnishings and personal belongings except for the bedroom. Everything had been taken to her storage unit, where she also kept her precious antiques.
But here, in her private sanctuary, her bedroom, she still had her huge four-poster bed and the luxurious beddings left over from the good old days be fore the end of her bottomless—and now nearly extinct—bank account.
She wasn’t upset she had to make her own way in the world. In fact, it was a challenge she appreciated.
What she resented was how it had happened, so abruptly, even cruelly, without a thought to her feelings.
Saying that her family wasn’t close was something of an understatement. Her family was selfish, all of them, including herself. They each cared more about their immediate world than each other, all of them including herself. Taylor hated that, and as her heels clicked across the bare floor, she yearned for it to be different. She yearned for more. She needed…something.
It wasn’t often she allowed herself to need, but she needed to now. Sitting on her bed, she pulled out her cell phone and called Suzanne.
“How’s my unit coming?” Suzanne asked. “Nearly ready for me?”
Taylor could hear pots and pans clattering, and smiled, feeling soothed already. For as long as she’d known Suzanne, she’d smelled like vanilla, had some sort of food stain on one part of her person or another and was always in the middle of whipping up something mouthwatering.
“Your unit is coming along,” Taylor assured her. “You’ll be opening Earthly Delights in no time.”
“I’m ready.”
“Me, too.” Hopefully she’d be right next door opening her own store as well. If she could afford to get away without a tenant’s monthly cash flow. She sighed. “I can’t wait to have you around again.”
The clanging slowed. “I thought you were enjoying your solitude.”
“Yeah, well, not as much as I thought I would, it turns out.”
Now the clanging stopped all together. “Taylor? What’s the matter?”
Damn it, she’d given herself away. Caring deeply for her friends and opening up to them were two different things entirely, at least for her. She didn’t open up easily.
Correction: she opened up never.
But complicating the matter was the simple fact that she didn’t really even know what was wrong, she only knew she felt this unsettling and vague…need. For what exactly, she had no idea. “I just wanted to say hi.”
“You sound…sad,” Suzanne accused.
“I do not.”
“Never mind. I’m coming over right after I finish up here. I won’t be but another half hour. I’ll bring ice cream, and you can tell me everything.”
Ice cream happened to be Suzanne’s cure-all for anything and everything. It usually worked, but this seemed bigger than even ice cream. “Chocolate?”
Taylor asked pathetically. “Double fudge chocolate?”
“Chocolate,” Suzanne promised. “Give me thirty minutes, hon, tops.”
Tempting, oh God, it was so tempting. But no matter how much she loved Suzanne, Taylor had never been able to tell her about her own painful past, about her distant family, about losing Jeff, and some how she knew that what she was feeling now was all tied up with that. And she couldn’t go into it, not now, not after so many years of burying it, because she was afraid that if she did, if she let it out, it would destroy her all over again. “I have a Historical Society meeting this evening.” True enough. “But maybe tomorrow, okay?”
“Promise?”
“Promise. Kiss Ryan for me.”
“I wish you’d come stay with us so you could get away from the renovation, at least at night.”
“I’m fine.”
“I just don’t like you there in the heart of downtown, all by yourself in that big old empty building.”
“No one is going to bother me because the place is so old and empty. Don’t worry about me, I’m safe.”
“Of course I’ll worry, but that won’t stop you from doing as you please. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.”
Taylor flipped off the cell phone, and had just slipped it back into her pocket when Mac spoke in that low, husky voice of his, nearly causing her to leap right out of her skin. “You didn’t move out.”
Damn. “Well aren’t you observant.” Slowly, on her own terms, she shifted on the bed to face him.
Big mistake.
First, sitting on the bed while he was standing right next to it made her feel a little bit shameless, a little bit…hungry.
Horrifyingly so.
And second, there was the way he was looking back at her—eyes heated, glinting with that edgy, unreadable expression that made her thighs tighten.
Did he wonder how combustive they’d be in this bed, the way she wondered? Not that she intended to follow through on that wondering, but…
“I don’t know who you were just talking to,” he said. “But they were right. It’s not safe here at night, no matter what you think.”
“Of course it is.”
“The building is deserted, and in obvious renovation. You know damn well this street gets heavy foot traffic on a daily basis. You never know who’s going to come pawing through here looking to steal supplies or tools.”
“I lock up.”
He let a rough snort.
“I’m staying, Mac.”
“There are going to be times where there’s no electricity. No water. No gas. This isn’t going to be the Ritz, Princess. This is going to be little more than camping at best.”
She hadn’t had luxuries in months, but hell if she’d admit that. Or the fact that she was slowly selling off her beloved antique collection just to keep afloat here. He thought her a spoiled princess, so be it.
What he thought was no skin off her nose.
And if he really believed she was going to back off the first challenge in her entire life, the first chance she’d ever had to prove herself, to