her dripping hair. “Because I think James is going to ask me out to dinner today.”
“I’ve got to tell you something,” McCade said.
“It’s got to wait.” Sandy closed the door and quickly dressed. When she opened the door, McCade was still standing there. He followed her to the door of the bathroom and watched as she stood at the sink, quickly putting on makeup.
“Look, Kirk, I’ve really got to tell you this,” he said. “You’re not going to like it, but…”
She glanced up at him in the bathroom mirror. “What didya break, McCade? My favorite coffee mug?”
“I wish.”
“My grandmother’s teapot?”
“No—”
“Not the mirror in the hallway.” She stretched her lips to put on lipstick, then smacked them together, looking at herself critically. “I’m not sure I can deal with seven years’ bad luck—”
“I didn’t break anything. I did something,” McCade said as she rushed past him. He followed her into the kitchen. “Actually, it’s something that I
didn’t
do.”
Sandy grabbed an apple from the refrigerator and washed it in the kitchen sink. Holding it with her teeth by taking a bite, she tucked her briefcase under her arm and headed for the front door. She unlocked the safety chain and the dead bolt, then spotted the videotapes on the hall table. Picking them up, she took the apple out of her mouth and turned to McCade. “What’s this?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.” He smiled ruefully. “Um…Vandenberg came by early this morning and dropped those tapes off. You were still asleep.”
She took a thoughtful bite of the apple, staring down at the tapes in her other hand. Nodding, she balanced her briefcase on the table, and slipped them carefully inside, and looked up at McCade. “James Vandenberg,” she repeated. “Came by.
This
morning.”
It was McCade’s turn to nod. “Yup.”
Sandy fought the urge to giggle. This was about as bad as it could get. So why did she have the urge to laugh? “You answered the door.”
It wasn’t a question, but McCade answered anyway. “Yup.”
“Before or after you took a shower?”
McCade studied the worn-out toe of his boot. “Um. After. But not by much.”
“I suppose you were wearing my pink bathrobe.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Just a towel.”
Sandy could picture it, like a scene from a romantic comedy. McCade, draped in a towel, his hair wet and his muscles gleaming…“I suppose James assumed…?” She let her voice trail off delicately.
“Yup.”
“Oh,
perfect,
McCade.” She leaned her head against the door. “I told him last night there was nothing between us.”
“Yeah, he mentioned that, and, well, now he thinks you finally succumbed to my charms.”
Sandy closed her eyes. If only she had…
“I’m sorry,” McCade said. “I should have straightened Vandenberg out as soon as I opened the door.”
“He probably wouldn’t have believed you. Not many people would believe a man like you could spend the night in a woman’s house and end up sleeping on the couch.” She took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. “Oh, well. I suppose it’s fate. I suppose James and I aren’t truly meant to be together.”
She looked up to find him watching her intently, a strange expression on his face. It didn’t seem fair. She’d lost her chance with James Vandenberg—not that she really wanted him—because he thought she was involved with McCade—who she really
did
want.
Why couldn’t life be easy? Why couldn’t McCade just realize how perfect the two of them would be together? Why couldn’t he come to his senses and pull her into his arms and tell her that he was madly in love with her?
Because he
wasn’t
madly in love with her, that was why he couldn’t. He wasn’t, and he never would be.
McCade watched Sandy’s eyes fill with tears, and his chest felt tight. Damn, she was really upset about this. She really did like this Vandenberg guy. “Look,” he
“I’ve got to tell you something,” McCade said.
“It’s got to wait.” Sandy closed the door and quickly dressed. When she opened the door, McCade was still standing there. He followed her to the door of the bathroom and watched as she stood at the sink, quickly putting on makeup.
“Look, Kirk, I’ve really got to tell you this,” he said. “You’re not going to like it, but…”
She glanced up at him in the bathroom mirror. “What didya break, McCade? My favorite coffee mug?”
“I wish.”
“My grandmother’s teapot?”
“No—”
“Not the mirror in the hallway.” She stretched her lips to put on lipstick, then smacked them together, looking at herself critically. “I’m not sure I can deal with seven years’ bad luck—”
“I didn’t break anything. I did something,” McCade said as she rushed past him. He followed her into the kitchen. “Actually, it’s something that I
didn’t
do.”
Sandy grabbed an apple from the refrigerator and washed it in the kitchen sink. Holding it with her teeth by taking a bite, she tucked her briefcase under her arm and headed for the front door. She unlocked the safety chain and the dead bolt, then spotted the videotapes on the hall table. Picking them up, she took the apple out of her mouth and turned to McCade. “What’s this?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.” He smiled ruefully. “Um…Vandenberg came by early this morning and dropped those tapes off. You were still asleep.”
She took a thoughtful bite of the apple, staring down at the tapes in her other hand. Nodding, she balanced her briefcase on the table, and slipped them carefully inside, and looked up at McCade. “James Vandenberg,” she repeated. “Came by.
This
morning.”
It was McCade’s turn to nod. “Yup.”
Sandy fought the urge to giggle. This was about as bad as it could get. So why did she have the urge to laugh? “You answered the door.”
It wasn’t a question, but McCade answered anyway. “Yup.”
“Before or after you took a shower?”
McCade studied the worn-out toe of his boot. “Um. After. But not by much.”
“I suppose you were wearing my pink bathrobe.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Just a towel.”
Sandy could picture it, like a scene from a romantic comedy. McCade, draped in a towel, his hair wet and his muscles gleaming…“I suppose James assumed…?” She let her voice trail off delicately.
“Yup.”
“Oh,
perfect,
McCade.” She leaned her head against the door. “I told him last night there was nothing between us.”
“Yeah, he mentioned that, and, well, now he thinks you finally succumbed to my charms.”
Sandy closed her eyes. If only she had…
“I’m sorry,” McCade said. “I should have straightened Vandenberg out as soon as I opened the door.”
“He probably wouldn’t have believed you. Not many people would believe a man like you could spend the night in a woman’s house and end up sleeping on the couch.” She took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. “Oh, well. I suppose it’s fate. I suppose James and I aren’t truly meant to be together.”
She looked up to find him watching her intently, a strange expression on his face. It didn’t seem fair. She’d lost her chance with James Vandenberg—not that she really wanted him—because he thought she was involved with McCade—who she really
did
want.
Why couldn’t life be easy? Why couldn’t McCade just realize how perfect the two of them would be together? Why couldn’t he come to his senses and pull her into his arms and tell her that he was madly in love with her?
Because he
wasn’t
madly in love with her, that was why he couldn’t. He wasn’t, and he never would be.
McCade watched Sandy’s eyes fill with tears, and his chest felt tight. Damn, she was really upset about this. She really did like this Vandenberg guy. “Look,” he
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