Thomas completely,
and he had given her everything he had to give.
Free released another beleaguered sigh. If
only she could teach that to Mac. But he had to want to change to
learn. And by all accounts Mac McFerrin had no desire to change. He
had no intention of trusting whatever heart he had to anyone or
anything but work.
The tempo of the music emanating from the FM
station shifted, and a sultry, jazzy tune throbbed from the
speakers. Free’s body reacted instantly. She felt herself swaying
subtly with the sensual rhythm. Her mind began to clear, allowing
the music inside, pushing away everything else.
She stood and stretched languidly. The music
tugged at her, teasing, inviting her to dance. She smiled. She
hadn’t danced in a very long time. Therapy. Dancing is good
therapy, that’s what Mrs. Lassiter had always said. Free smiled
again as she recalled the beautiful, precise moves the fragile old
lady had taught her. Loretta Lassiter had learned to dance in a
school in Paris.
Paris. Free probably wouldn’t ever make it to
Paris, but she could close her eyes and envision all the vivid
details her elderly neighbor had shared with her. And she could
forget. Right now she really wanted to forget. To forget Mac and
how he made her feel. To forget Alex’s plan.
Free closed her eyes and allowed the music to
move her, to take her away. Slowly her muscles relaxed and swayed
with every beat, every ebb and flow of the tempo. And then, all
else disappeared.
~*~
Mac sat in the near darkness on the steps of
his back stoop. The gentle pattering if rain combined with the jazz
tune drifting from Free’s open windows relaxed him. He closed his
eyes and rested his head against the railing. He hadn’t taken the
time to just sit back and unwind in a long time. His routine
consisted of working until he exhausted himself and then falling
asleep, sometimes on top of his work.
Maybe John was right. Maybe he did work too
hard. Maybe he needed a break. But what would he do?
Instantly, the image of Free Renzetti popped
into his head. That luscious mane of hair falling around her
shoulders, all silk and curls. And, God, that body. Of course he
hadn’t seen that much of her body. Between those long flowing
skirts and baggy overalls, she managed to keep everything pretty
much covered. But Mac knew she was voluptuous beneath all that
cloth. If he’d had any doubts, yesterday’s little bubble bath
episode had cleared them up. Though the bubbles had kept him from
admiring certain areas of interest, her gently rounded curves had
been obvious.
Free was all woman. Soft and sexy. And Mac
wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone in his life. His
body tightened just thinking about her. And she seemed so innocent
about the real ways of the world. Mac smiled, an unfamiliar
sensation. Sexy, innocent, and gorgeous as hell. What a rare
combination.
She might not be innocent, sexually speaking,
but she definitely looked at life through rose-colored glasses with
a naïveté that made him wince. Free thought the world was still
worth saving. She trusted so completely, automatically assuming
that there would be goodness in all. A girl with a dream of saving
the world and maybe going to Paris. So sweet and so giving, she
made him ache to take what she offered.
But there was no sweetness in him. Mac’s eyes
snapped open. He didn’t give anything. He had business associates,
he didn’t need friends. He had money, he didn’t need family. And
she as hell didn’t need some gypsy turning him inside out.
Mac didn’t care what John or Jake
recommended, he intended to stay clear of emotional entanglements
in general—one with Free Renzetti in particular.
The screen door on the back of Free’s house
slammed and Mac’s gaze darted in that direction. Free, wearing a
log, billowy white dress, drifted outside. She paused on her bottom
step and lifted her face to the rain. Her eyes closed as she seemed
to relish the feel of the cool
and he had given her everything he had to give.
Free released another beleaguered sigh. If
only she could teach that to Mac. But he had to want to change to
learn. And by all accounts Mac McFerrin had no desire to change. He
had no intention of trusting whatever heart he had to anyone or
anything but work.
The tempo of the music emanating from the FM
station shifted, and a sultry, jazzy tune throbbed from the
speakers. Free’s body reacted instantly. She felt herself swaying
subtly with the sensual rhythm. Her mind began to clear, allowing
the music inside, pushing away everything else.
She stood and stretched languidly. The music
tugged at her, teasing, inviting her to dance. She smiled. She
hadn’t danced in a very long time. Therapy. Dancing is good
therapy, that’s what Mrs. Lassiter had always said. Free smiled
again as she recalled the beautiful, precise moves the fragile old
lady had taught her. Loretta Lassiter had learned to dance in a
school in Paris.
Paris. Free probably wouldn’t ever make it to
Paris, but she could close her eyes and envision all the vivid
details her elderly neighbor had shared with her. And she could
forget. Right now she really wanted to forget. To forget Mac and
how he made her feel. To forget Alex’s plan.
Free closed her eyes and allowed the music to
move her, to take her away. Slowly her muscles relaxed and swayed
with every beat, every ebb and flow of the tempo. And then, all
else disappeared.
~*~
Mac sat in the near darkness on the steps of
his back stoop. The gentle pattering if rain combined with the jazz
tune drifting from Free’s open windows relaxed him. He closed his
eyes and rested his head against the railing. He hadn’t taken the
time to just sit back and unwind in a long time. His routine
consisted of working until he exhausted himself and then falling
asleep, sometimes on top of his work.
Maybe John was right. Maybe he did work too
hard. Maybe he needed a break. But what would he do?
Instantly, the image of Free Renzetti popped
into his head. That luscious mane of hair falling around her
shoulders, all silk and curls. And, God, that body. Of course he
hadn’t seen that much of her body. Between those long flowing
skirts and baggy overalls, she managed to keep everything pretty
much covered. But Mac knew she was voluptuous beneath all that
cloth. If he’d had any doubts, yesterday’s little bubble bath
episode had cleared them up. Though the bubbles had kept him from
admiring certain areas of interest, her gently rounded curves had
been obvious.
Free was all woman. Soft and sexy. And Mac
wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone in his life. His
body tightened just thinking about her. And she seemed so innocent
about the real ways of the world. Mac smiled, an unfamiliar
sensation. Sexy, innocent, and gorgeous as hell. What a rare
combination.
She might not be innocent, sexually speaking,
but she definitely looked at life through rose-colored glasses with
a naïveté that made him wince. Free thought the world was still
worth saving. She trusted so completely, automatically assuming
that there would be goodness in all. A girl with a dream of saving
the world and maybe going to Paris. So sweet and so giving, she
made him ache to take what she offered.
But there was no sweetness in him. Mac’s eyes
snapped open. He didn’t give anything. He had business associates,
he didn’t need friends. He had money, he didn’t need family. And
she as hell didn’t need some gypsy turning him inside out.
Mac didn’t care what John or Jake
recommended, he intended to stay clear of emotional entanglements
in general—one with Free Renzetti in particular.
The screen door on the back of Free’s house
slammed and Mac’s gaze darted in that direction. Free, wearing a
log, billowy white dress, drifted outside. She paused on her bottom
step and lifted her face to the rain. Her eyes closed as she seemed
to relish the feel of the cool
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