Run to Me

Erin swallowed hard as she dried the water splashes from Amos’s sturdy chairs, then returned them to the table. Because from the way Mac had stared at her, there was no mistaking the fact that, given the chance, he would have gladly made that wet mark on her breast man-size.

Chapter 3

The night air was still warm, fragrant with pine when Mac arrived at eight-thirty. Erin felt more than a little awkward when he knocked and waited to be admitted into his own home. Or maybe she was uneasy because darkness was falling, Christie was already asleep…and the last look they’d shared had been laced with tension. She mentioned her initial reservation as Mac walked inside.

His boots thudded softly as he crossed the large circular rug on the hardwood floor. “For the time being, this is your home,” he answered. “I’d never invade your privacy by just walking in.” He glanced around as he stepped into the office off the foyer and clicked on the small gooseneck lamp atop the computer desk. “Is Christie asleep?”

“Yes. She crashed around seven-thirty.”

“How does she like her bed?”

“She loves it—but she’s not in it.”

“No?”

She watched him frown at the collection of boxes he’d shuttled from the spare room to this one. Then, digging in, he moved a maple chair to the computer area and began stacking the boxes in the far corner of the room. Every movement showcased the powerful flex and play of his back muscles through his white polo shirt.

Erin gave herself a mental shake and answered his question. “She has fun lining up her dollies and stuffed animals on it for their naps, but I think she feels more secure sleeping with me right now. She’ll adjust. She always does.”

Mac slanted her another of those critical looks, then left the pile of boxes to turn on his computer. He motioned Erin into the office chair while he pulled the spare maple one close. Tiny blips of excitement danced along her nerve endings as he dragged his chair even closer, and the shifting air carried a scent to her that was part fresh citrus and all musky man.

“It’s pretty standard,” he said. A dozen bright icons appeared on the monitor. “Click on the telephone icon to connect to the Internet, then when the search engine comes up, you’ll see another icon on the task bar. Click on the little mailbox, and you’re in.” He paused. “Go ahead.”

When his e-mail page came up, he reached across her, the dark hair on his forearm brushing her arm. With a few quick keystrokes, he entered his password and set the computer to remember it. Then he sank back in his chair. “Okay, my password’s saved, now you can use it whenever you want. All I ask is that you use the start button to park it before you shut it off.”

“I will. That’s the way my laptop’s set up, too. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Do you want to post a message now?”

She shook her head. No, she wanted to write to Lynn, but she didn’t want him anywhere in the vicinity when she did it. She needed privacy when she contacted people from her past. She was fairly certain she could contact Lynn safely using Mac’s e-mail address. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll do it later.”

“Sure.” With a few more keystrokes, he shut it down, then turned to her as if to say something more. Erin felt her pulse quicken as their gazes locked and the temperature in the small, intimately lit room inched up several degrees.

Abruptly she pushed to her feet. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t sure what was going through his mind, but she knew what was happening in hers, and it was dangerous to remain sitting here. But while putting some distance between them was the best solution, she couldn’t ask him to leave his own home. “I made a cinnamon coffee cake earlier if you’d like to have a slice.” At least that would move them to the kitchen table where the lights were brighter, and they’d be sitting a respectable distance from each other.

The look in Mac’s dark eyes told her that he’d sensed the change in temperature, too. “Coffee cake?” he repeated, slowly coming to his feet, too, and towering over her.

She nodded. “My thank-yous were getting repetitive, so I thought I’d express my gratitude with food. There’s fresh decaf to go with it. If you want.”

Abruptly, Erin shook her head in frustration. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing this very well. I seem to be playing hostess, but this is your home and I—” She pressed a finger to her lips, then removed it. “I’m just not sure what the protocol is at this point.”

“I’ve already told you, for now, it’s your home. Tell you what. If you’ll stop feeling uncomfortable about living here, I won’t feel uncomfortable if I have to get something from my rooms or check my own e-mail.” He smiled a little as he headed for the door. “As for the coffee cake, I know I’ll be sorry, but I have to pass. As I said earlier, I don’t like leaving Amos unattended for long periods of time. My not being here this morning when you arrived was a fluke. I got a call and had to take care of something at the store.”

“Of course,” she murmured, following and still embarrassed, hoping he didn’t think she’d been offering more than cake. “I’ll bring it to the house tomorrow morning and you can both enjoy it.”

“Sounds good,” he said, stepping out on the porch. “Thanks.”

It was fully dark now, a few stars and a sliver of moon shining through the thick pines, but light from inside spilled through the windows. Mac paused beside the door, his expression troubled.

“There was something else I wanted to talk to you about tonight. Amos’s PT.”

Concerned, Erin stepped out on the porch, too. “I asked him how it went, and he said it was fine—that he’s getting stronger every day.”

A skeptical tone entered his voice. “He also told you that we fired the first housekeeper because she was interested in more than doing laundry and baking cookies.”

“And you said that wasn’t true. Why was she let go?”

He considered the question for a long moment before he answered. “One night Amos had to use the bathroom during the wee hours, and she made him feel ashamed for needing her help. Sometimes it takes him a while to get his bad leg moving—it stiffens on him. He was depressed for days afterward because he couldn’t handle a simple thing like using the toilet on his own.”

Erin felt a rush of sympathy. “Oh, Mac, how awful for him.”

“Yeah. It meant a lot when you said you wouldn’t have a problem with that sort of thing.”

It had? At the time, he’d barely acknowledged her statement. “What about his physical therapy? Isn’t it going well?”

“It is, and it isn’t. He’s getting better—and he wants to get better. But he’s not doing the exercises Vicki gives him as often as he should. It’s slowing his recovery.”

“How can I help?”

Mac released a burdened breath. “I can’t tell you how much I hoped you’d say that. The exercises she gives him can easily be done while he’s lying on his bed or sitting watching TV—exercises to strengthen his leg. Having said that, he’s also getting too fond of his recliner. We need to get him up and moving.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” she replied decisively.

He wasn’t convinced. “It won’t be easy. He’s a world-class crab when he’s forced to do anything. He climbs all over me when I suggest it.”

“Then Christie and I will make it so much fun, he won’t mind.”

Mac cocked his head, obviously amused. “Forgive me, but how do you propose to do that?”

Erin smiled, feeling a sudden kinship with the tall man looming over her. Dealing with Amos would be like dealing with Christie. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d had to improvise to get some cooperation from her. “I don’t know yet. This is still new territory. But we’ll think of something.”

“Understand, I’m not asking for miracles—and of course, we’ll increase your pay.”

“Don’t do that. Helping him exercise will make me feel a little less like I’m taking advantage of your hospitality. Believe me, I’m getting a lot more out of this arrangement than you are.”

“No more than anyone else we would have hired.”

That wasn’t so, but she could hardly explain. She didn’t know him well enough to explain. She would never know him well enough. Suddenly that made her a little sad.

“You know,” he murmured, “I had my doubts about you when I saw how young you were. I wanted someone older. Someone we knew.” The night song of the crickets played in the darkness, wrapping them in another kind of intimacy, an intimacy that was somehow more potent. “I figured you’d be just one more woman who needed a job and phoned it in.”

“I’d never do that.”

He nodded as though he knew that now. Then he paused, reached out…and stroked her face.

Erin stood breathlessly as his index finger trailed down the slope of her cheek to her chin. It was the gentlest of touches. It was no more than a whisper against her skin, and it was hypnotic because she’d never been touched so tenderly before. Her nerve endings thrummed as he tipped her face up to his.

“You honestly care about people, don’t you?”