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  “It all came while you were in there,” he said, and when Karen started to comment that she’d heard no one enter, Mac scurried into the bathroom.

  One box contained silk underwear, all of it white: lacy bra, teddy, and white stockings that ended mid-thigh in lacy elastic. Never before had she heard of a wedding providing underwear along with the dress.

  “You don’t have time to examine everything,” Mac said as he entered the room.

  “But—”

  “Get dressed!”

  As she picked up the underwear, then the dress that must have been made of three hundred yards of chiffon, she looked at the narrow space in the bathroom and back at the voluminous skirt.

  “I won’t attack you if I see you in your underwear—but only if you make the same promise to me,” Mac said, deadpan.

  Karen started to protest but then smiled devilishly. “All right, you’re on,” she said as she took the white silk underwear and went into the bathroom. Moments later she emerged wearing makeup and her underwear and nothing else—and she knew that she looked great. She wasn’t very large above the waist, but, as many people had told her, she had the legs of a showgirl.

  “Do you know where—” Mac said as he turned toward her, then Karen had the great, oh, the enormous, satisfaction of seeing all the color drain from his face as he stared at her.

  “Do I know where what is?” she asked innocently.

  But Mac couldn’t say a word as he stood there, his hands frozen, one held outstretched, the other trying to fasten the cuff link on his shirt.

  “Could I help you with that?” she asked, striding toward him as he stared at her speechlessly. As sweetly as she could, she fastened first one then the other of his cuff links, then smiled up at him. “Anything else you need?”

  When he didn’t answer, she smiled again and started to walk away from him, knowing that the back view of her was as good as the front. Thank you, NordicTrack, she thought.

  But she had no more time for thought because Mac grabbed her shoulder and pulled her into his arms, then brought his lips down on hers. How could she have forgotten? she wondered. She’d nearly forgotten the deliciousness of a kiss.

  He kissed her long and thoroughly, and his big hands caressed her body, pulling her close to him.

  Had it not been for the loud knock on the door and the call, “Ready to leave for the church?” Karen wasn’t sure what would have happened. Even so, she had to push her way out of his arms, and it was with great reluctance that she did so. Her heart was pounding and her breath was fast.

  “We must get dressed,” she managed to say while he silently stared at her. With shaking hands, she picked up her dress and tried to get it on over her head without mussing her hair. She wasn’t surprised when Mac helped her pull the dress down over her body, then zipped it up the back. And it seemed natural to help him into the coat of his tuxedo.

  It wasn’t until they started to leave the room that he spoke. “I almost forgot to give you your bridesmaid gift.” Out of his pocket he pulled a two-strand pearl necklace and an earring with a long drop pearl.

  “They’re beautiful,” Karen said. “The pearls almost look real.”

  “They do, don’t they?” he said as he fished out the second earring, then he fastened the necklace on while she put on the earrings.

  “Do I look okay?” she asked in earnest.

  “No one will look at the bride.”

  It was a cliché, but the way he said it made her feel beautiful.

  The wedding was enchanting. For all the chaos beforehand, everything went smoothly, and the reception was filled with laughter and champagne. Mac disappeared with a group of men he hadn’t seen in years, and for a few moments Karen was alone at a table.

  “Do you know how to dance?”

  Karen looked up at Mac. “Wasn’t that in your report about me? Or did your spies forget such unimportant things as dancing?”

  With a laugh, he pulled her out of her chair and led her onto the dance floor. To say they danced splendidly together was an understatement.

  Steve sailed by, his lovely bride, Catherine, in his arms, and told Mac he should keep “this one.”

  Mac smiled. “You know that no woman wants me for long.”

  After Steve had laughed and moved away, Karen frowned up at Mac. “Why don’t you tell them the truth? Everyone blames you for all the breakups.”

  Mac pulled her closer into his arms. “Be careful, Mrs. Lawrence, it almost sounds as though you’re beginning to like me.”

  “Ha! All I want from you is—”

  “A child,” he said softly. “You want to have my child.”

  “Only because you’re—”

  “What am I? Intelligent? A prince among men?”

  “You’re a reverse prince. When a woman kisses you, you turn into a frog.”

  “I didn’t with the first kiss. Want to try again?”

  For a minute he looked down at her and she thought he was going to kiss her again. But he didn’t and she knew that her disappointment showed on her face.

  Hours later she once again found herself alone in a room with Mac. When she returned from the bathroom wearing her chaste white nightgown, he was standing by the window, his back to her, looking out into the night.

  “The bathroom is yours,” she said.

  “I’m going out,” he said firmly.

  To her horror, Karen said, “Why?” then put her hand to her mouth. What he did was none of her business. Stiffening her body, she forced a smile. “Of course.” She gave a great yawn. “See you in the morning.”

  Mac grabbed her shoulders. “Karen, it’s not what you think.”

  “I have no right to think anything at all. You’re free to do what you like.”

  Quickly, he pulled her to him, and held her tightly. “If I stay in this room tonight, I’ll make love to you. I know I will. I won’t be able to stop myself.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he left her alone in the room.

  “Right,” Karen said to the closed door. “And next week it would be business as usual, the little fling with your typist forgotten. Better not to do anything that could get you sued.”

  She went to bed and only went to sleep after she had vented her frustration on the thick pillow separating the two halves of the bed.

  Hours later she was sleeping so soundly she didn’t hear him return, slip into bed beside her or feel him press a soft kiss on her forehead before he himself tried to sleep.

  Four

  KAREN AWOKE CHRISTMAS MORNING TO SCREAMS. THINKING the house was on fire, she flung back the covers and started to leave the bed—but Mac’s strong hand stopped her.

  “Kids,” he muttered, head buried in the pillow.

  As the screaming increased, Karen pulled away from him, but his hand crept up her arm and pulled her down into the bed beside him. During the night the bolster pillow that separated them had slipped down (or been pushed) until it was nearer their knees.

  Mac’s hand crept upward into Karen’s hair. He still had his face buried, still wasn’t looking at her, but she could see his black glossy hair, could feel his warmth. The room was dim and the noise outside their room seemed very far away.

  As he pulled her down to his level, as his face came next to hers and as his lips touched hers, he whispered, “Kids. Christmas. You know how they are.”

  “I was an only child. I had breakfast before opening my presents.”

  “Mmmmm,” was all he said as he kissed her, kissed her warmly, softly.

  With the touch of his lips it was as though time fell away: to be in bed with a warm, sleepy man as he pulled her into his arms felt so very familiar. And so very right. It was easy to slide down so her body was stretched alongside his, to slip her arms about his neck and return his kiss with all the enthusiasm she felt.

  Suddenly, the door flew open and in rushed two kids holding toys aloft, brandishing them over the heads of the couple in bed. Bewildered, Karen pulled her face away from Mac�