Exquisite Acquisitions

“Wow.” Macy leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. The past twenty minutes were a blur. One second she was on her way to meet Avery for dinner, and the next she was being pursued by overly zealous tabloid maniacs.

She tried to slow her breathing, but then there was the Stetson-wearing cowboy to think about. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, he’d thrown her off balance.

She turned to face him and caught a whiff of his musky cologne. The scent was a turn-on in its own right, but on him, now that was really something. She’d already put him in white knight status; he didn’t need any more help. “I don’t usually accept rides from strangers,” she offered, clearing the air.

He chuckled and deep twin dimples appeared, softening the sharp planes of his face. Okay, this was just not funny anymore.

“But you made an exception for me?”

“I knew I could trust you. I saw you yesterday at the, uh, the auction. I was there, too.”

He gave her an appraising stare. “I know.”

“You know me?”

“No, can’t say that I do. But I noticed you. You were trying your best not to look conspicuous. Guess the designer sunglasses and scarf gave you away. It’s kind of hard not to notice a beautiful woman covering herself all up. Not that I blame you for trying to disguise yourself.” He gestured with a tilt of his head to the direction they’d just come from. “Does that happen to you often?”

He thought she was beautiful, even under the disguise. “Lately, yes…unfortunately.”

They were traveling down the street, and Macy had no idea where they were headed. All she saw behind him through the window was a flash of streetlights and neon signs.

He took care with removing his hat and laid it between them. He continued to watch her. Normally she’d squirm under the heat of a stranger’s stare, but oddly all she felt was excitement, as if she was living out her fantasy. She still couldn’t believe she was in his car, driving toward who knows what.

Then she reined in those thoughts. He was engaged. Or going to be soon. Her fantasy was over. “I’m Macy Tarlington.”

His eyes flickered with recognition. “Tarlington?”

His recognition wasn’t aimed at her. He didn’t know who she was. It was the Tarlington name that turned heads in every civilized country around the world. Apparently, the cowboy had never seen any of the work Macy had done on film. She wasn’t a star by any rights, but most people in the know would recognize her on the street. “My mother was Tina Tarlington.”

“I’ll be damned.” He shot her a charming smile then put out his hand. The large capable hand she’d already held. “Carter McCay. I’m from Wild River, Texas.”

Of course, he was a Texan. With that charming accent, where else could he be from? “Hollyweird, California.”

His lips quirked up and they sat staring at each other, their hands entwined in a slow shake.

Macy would’ve lost her footing if she’d been standing from the way he watched her. “I want to thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten away from them if you weren’t there.”

He finally released her hand, and she was momentarily at a loss. “Appeared that way to me, too.”

“You saved me,” she said, still awestruck.

“You needed saving.”

Macy held in a sigh. His fiancée was a lucky woman. “Are you in the habit of saving women, or am I the only one?”

“I’m not in the business of saving anyone anymore.”

“Meaning you once were?”

“Once, a long time ago.” The city lights reflected in his eyes as his gaze shifted out the window. “I was a marine.”

“Ah, that explains your call to duty.”

His gaze snapped back to hers.

“I mean, isn’t that wh-what you do?” Oh boy, she didn’t want to insult the man who’d saved her. She found herself fumbling with an explanation. “The first to go in when there’s a crisis.”

His lips twitched as if he found her amusing. “I’m a Texan. We don’t like seeing women being manhandled. Marine or not, any man worth his salt would have done the same. “

Macy decided she liked a man who used the phrase worth his salt. “No matter the reason, I’m appreciative.”

“Why were those bozos so dang persistent anyway?”

The dreaded question.

Macy darted a glance out the window. “I suppose they think they’re justified.”

His lips tightened. “Nothing justifies shoving a defenseless woman and sticking cameras in her face.”

“If you knew me better, you’d know I’m not exactly defenseless,” Macy quipped. “I was caught off guard. Usually I’m more prepared.”

“Can’t imagine living like that.”

“It’s worse now. My mother’s death put the spotlight on me.” She tried to pass off her troubles with a shrug. “I’m the center of some controversy.”

His gaze remained on her, searching, waiting. But Macy held back. Though her recent episodes had been all over entertainment news when she’d walked out on two separate productions, trying to explain them to a stranger would be awkward. Thankfully, her lawsuits related to those incidents, weren’t public knowledge yet.

She didn’t answer the question in Carter’s eyes.

“So, why the auction?” he asked. “Your mother was…”

“Broke. She wasn’t good with money and she loved beautiful things.”

His eyes widened, as if she’d told a telling tale. “You want a drink? All I have is champagne.”

The bottle of Dom was sitting in a sterling-silver bucket in the center back of the town car. He picked it up along with two crystal flutes and poured them each a glass. She accepted one and glanced out the window again, noting the city lights fading, fast becoming a distant memory.

“By the way,” she whispered, taking a sip of the bubbly. “Where are you taking me?”

Wind blew her hair off her shoulders. The cool breeze refreshed her mind and rejuvenated her body. She stood on the deck of a private yacht watching the glorious Manhattan skyline. To think, if Avery hadn’t canceled their dinner date right before she’d arrived at the restaurant, and if Macy hadn’t gotten out of her cab to walk the two blocks to her favorite sushi place, her evening would have been a lonely night of salmon sashimi and wasabi.

The term too good to be true was overrated, except when it came to Carter McCay. He’d been a perfect gentleman, offering to take her back to her hotel.

“What’s my other option?” she’d asked.

And now, she was sailing the Hudson River with her handsome cowboy. She’d had a million questions for him while in the limo, but she’d refrained from asking. She wanted to pretend for a little while longer that all was right with the world while trying to forget the mob scene that would have taken her wits if Carter hadn’t rescued her.

She was being reckless for a change, driven by her coping mechanisms not to overanalyze everything. She was going with the flow. As her mother used to do.