Messing With Mac Read online

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  He didn’t want to contemplate what just that smile of hers did to his insides. Did she know? Probably not, or she wouldn’t still be looking at him like that. They’d both agreed—nothing could, or would, happen. But he had to make sure. “Now, about the personal stuff.”

  Her face closed up again and he had to laugh. “After all you’re going through, I’d think a little kiss would be the least of your problems.”

  “If it had been just one ‘little kiss,”’ she said, shocking him with her boldness, “then it would be the least of my problems.”

  Hell. At her sides, her own hands were fisted. Because she couldn’t keep her hands off him either, or because she wanted to slug him? “Tell me why you don’t want this,” he asked quietly.

  “Truth?”

  “Truth.”

  She lifted her head, so close to him now that they could have leaned in just a fraction and had their mouths meet. “I do casual,” she whispered. “I do casual real well. But not more than that, not ever more. And this…” She sighed, closed her eyes. “This feels like more to me, Mac, and it scares me to death.”

  “Yeah. Look, I—”

  “Mac.” One of his laborers stood in the doorway. “You’re needed downstairs.”

  Taylor turned away.

  “We’ll finish this later,” he told her slim back.

  She lifted a shoulder.

  “Taylor—”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “Oh, it’s necessary,” he said, watching her stiffen. He was sorry for that, but they worked together, would have to continue to do so.

  They had to finish talking about this, they had to.

  Then maybe he could stop thinking about it.

  7

  BUT LATER NEVER CAME. Not that day and not the next, because Taylor did something Mac didn’t expect. She avoided him. She avoided him good.

  She avoided him through the installation of all the plumbing and electrical. Through the hanging and taping of the new drywall.

  Which admittedly wasn’t that difficult, as he used good subcontractors, and for nearly two weeks his presence wasn’t required more than an hour here and there.

  One morning he stood out front of her building with the hose, spraying down the tools they’d used to texture the new walls, lost in concentration, when a breathy female voice whispered “excuse me” in his ear.

  Head whipping up, his gaze collided with…a petite version of Taylor? He’d have sworn Taylor Wellington was a serious one-of-a-kind, yet this woman had the blond hair, the same see-through green eyes, the matching cynical tilt to her head…but that’s where the similarities ended.

  She came barely to his shoulders, and where Taylor defined elegance and sophistication, this slightly younger version defined urban hip. She was dressed in painted on jeans and a little crop top that showed off a sparkling diamond in her belly button, and when she turned around in a circle with a little delighted laugh, he saw the rose tattoo rising above her belt line.

  Now, why anyone would want a plant growing out of their butt boggled the mind, but having passed his thirtieth birthday almost two years ago, he’d discovered he was completely out of touch when it came to such things.

  “I look a lot like her, don’t I?” She grinned. “I’m Liza. Taylor’s baby sister. And you’re…”

  “Mac.”

  “The current boy toy?”

  She actually batted her lashes as she asked this, and suddenly Mac saw another difference. Where Taylor’s eyes and voice were soft at times, even giving, there was nothing soft about Liza. She was cold and hard, and had been around the block more than once. “Boy toy?” he repeated, scratching his jaw. “Uh…no.”

  Liza laughed. “You’re rougher than her usual type, which is usually way too…upscale for me.” A sideways look raked over his body, slowly. “But if she put you in a well-tailored suit…oh yeah, baby, I can see her going for you.” Running her tongue over her bottom lip, she looked at him from beneath half-closed, sleepy, sexy eyes. “You’re hot.”

  It’d been awhile since a woman had come on to him so blatantly. In fact, he nearly looked behind him to make sure she was talking to him.

  “I have to give it to good old sis,” Liza said. “She always did have great taste. Some advice though, just don’t get attached. Taylor doesn’t dabble with one man for long, not since Jeff.”

  “Jeff?”

  “Her one great love,” she said with overplayed dramatic flair, and stepping close, she ran a finger over his shoulder, down his arm. “Sis is under the mistaken impression that he was the greatest guy on the planet, and that her turn at happiness has come and gone. Stupid, huh? I mean there are billions of guys on this planet.” Her eyes went sultry, speculative. “So how about it, big boy? Are you playing with Taylor, or are you available?”

  He caught her wandering finger just as it roamed down his chest toward his navel. “I’m the contractor.”

  “Ah, the contractor.” Her eyes darkened as she looked up at the building. “Grandpa always did like her best.”

  Mac figured the sisters weren’t very close if even he knew better than that.

  “So is she here?” She tossed her head, flipping her hair artfully around her face. “Or are we all alone?”

  “Look…” He wracked his brain for her name. “Liza—”

  “Uh-oh.” She affected a pout, and before he could stop her, she cupped his face in her hands. “You’re scowling. Didn’t your momma ever tell you that would give you wrinkles?”

  Now she rested her body against his, making sure to rub up against the vee of his jeans like a cat in heat. “Or maybe you don’t care about wrinkles. Men never do, they don’t need to. Your laugh lines are sexy.”

  Curling his fingers around her wrists, he pried her off him and held her away. “Okay, that’s enough—”

  “Liza!”

  Liza didn’t flinch at her sister’s voice, just stuck out that lower lip even further as she turned to face Taylor, who came out of the building, looking sophisticated and elegant as ever, even with her eyes flashing.

  “Hey, sis.” Liza sidled back up to Mac. “Look what I found.”

  “Stop torturing my contractor.”

  “Oh, Taylor, but he’s so gorgeous. Can I keep him?” Mashing her breasts against Mac’s arm, she batted her lashes at Taylor, who looked immune. “Pretty please?”

  “Knock it off.” She wore a loose and flowing white skirt, a bright red top and wide-brimmed straw hat. And looked good enough to eat.

  Mac was suddenly starving. He separated himself from Liza, not an easy feat. Taylor was looking at him again, and he still didn’t have a clue to what she was thinking.

  “What do you need, Liza?” she asked her sister.

  “You aren’t going to even invite me in, show me around?”

  “That’s not why you’re here.”

  Liza tried sticking her lower lip out further but Taylor didn’t budge or soften her expression. “Money,” Liza muttered. “I need money.”

  “Try asking your mother.”

  “She’s your mother, too.”

  Taylor just stared at Liza, not giving an inch.

  “Well, she’s so damn tightfisted, what’s the point?” Liza muttered.

  Taylor lifted a brow, apparently agreeing with that assessment, but she shook her head. “I have nothing to give you.”

  “You never have anything to give.”

  Taylor closed her eyes briefly. “I’m sorry about the times I wasn’t there for you when I could have been. But the truth is, now that I might want to help, I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “Yeah, whatever. It’s no skin off my nose.” With one last lingering look at Mac, she spun on her heels and stalked off.

  “Liza.”

  Liza didn’t look back, just let herself out of the gate where she faded into the noon crowd on the streets.

  Mac expected Taylor to spin on her