In Hot Water. Mary Baxter Lynn
was galvanizing.
Maci sucked in her breath, and he cursed. Later, she didn’t know who turned away first. At the time she didn’t care. For her own self-preservation, she couldn’t have looked at him another second.
“So how did you and dear old dad hook up?”
His tone now tainted his smile.
She swung her head back around but refrained from looking directly at him. “That’s none of your business.”
His smile burgeoned into a grin. “You’re right, it isn’t.”
“Look, I know this…us is awkward, but—”
“I thought about trying to find you.”
Her heart skipped several beats and she tried to avert her gaze but found she couldn’t. “Holt—”
“Holt, what?” His tone thickened. “Don’t say what’s been on my mind for two years.”
“Stop it,” she muttered tersely, leaning closer as though fearing someone would hear their conversation. “I told myself I wouldn’t let you dredge up the past.”
“Too late, honey. The past has slam-dunked us both.”
“We can pretend it never happened.”
“Sure we can.”
She flushed and looked away.
Seconds passed.
“You’re right, this isn’t about us.”
She swung back to face him. “You’re right, it isn’t. It’s about your father.”
His features darkened.
“You despise him, don’t you?”
He snorted.
“I know you blame him for your mother’s death, but—”
“I don’t want to discuss my mother with anyone,” he interrupted harshly. “Least of all you.”
Her flush deepened, partly from anger and partly from embarrassment.
“This isn’t going to work, is it?” he asked, his voice weary.
“No, it isn’t,” Maci responded. “All the more reason for you to leave by the same door you came in.”
“And miss out on all the fun of watching you play out your role as the money-grubbing little bitch—”
Maci launched to her feet, her eyes firing. “How dare you say that to me?”
“I dare say anything I want.”
She ignored his rebuttal. “You don’t know anything about my and Seymour’s relationship.”
He shrugged. “You’re right, I don’t. But I know what I see.”
“And just what is that?” she lashed back, then regretted the question. But it was too late to take it back. How had this happened? She’d had no intention of entering into a verbal slinging match with him. Yet that was exactly what she was doing.
“A younger woman who married an older man for his money.”
“That’s not true!”
“Oh, really. Why else would you marry a man so much older than you—a good-looking woman like you? You could have any man you wanted.” Holt paused as if to let his words penetrate. “We both know you’re not frigid.”
“Enough!”
He merely shrugged.
“This isn’t going to work,” Maci said more to herself than to him.
“Are you telling me to leave?”
“What if I am?”
He rose. “Suits me. I’d much rather be on a boat sailing into the wild blue yonder, than defending my father.”
“Then tell Seymour you’re out of here.”
Holt laughed without humor. “Not on your life, sweetheart. If you want me gone, then you tell him.”
“You bastard. You know I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can,” Holt drawled, then paused as if to make a point. “If you’re prepared to answer questions as to why you want me to pack.”
Maci quelled the urge to smack him again, then was appalled by the depth of her feelings toward this man.
“And we both know you’re not prepared to do that.”
Sparks flew from her eyes. “Don’t bet your life on that.”
“What I’m betting is your husband’s.”
This time she flinched, then whispered, “Why are you doing this?”
“What?” he asked with childlike innocence. “Making you face the truth?”
“Acting as though you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” he countered with ease. “I don’t have any feelings toward you one way or the other.”
“That’s a bald-faced lie.” Maci refused to back down. “But since I really don’t care how you feel, I’m going to let it slide.”
“That relieves my mind.”
Ignoring him, she continued, “Look, I don’t want Seymour to know about us. To do so would serve no purpose. Surely you can understand that.”
He seemed in no hurry to respond which fueled her anger even more. He was enjoying himself at her expense. He enjoyed watching her on the hot seat.
“What’s it worth to you for me to keep my mouth shut?”
Maci sucked in her breath, reeling against the pain that shot through her. “You bastard,” she spat, then turned and walked off, praying the tears that blurred her vision wouldn’t cause her to stumble.
Would he ever learn to control his tongue? Holt wondered. He had been baiting his father’s young wife, intentionally jerking her chain, and he’d enjoyed it. Or so he’d thought. But now that she’d stormed off, he was having second thoughts. He felt like kicking himself for acting like the bastard she’d called him.
More than that, he wished he could start the conversation all over again. His demeanor and choice of words would certainly be different.
Sweat dotted his upper lip and forehead. Frowning, he pushed the half-drunk cup of coffee aside and peered at a blue sky that seemed as never ending as Maci’s long legs.
A groan split his lips. Still, the image of her wouldn’t go away. When he had walked outside on the veranda and seen her, he’d frozen for a moment and simply watched her, lapping up her beauty just like he would a scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream.
In the dancing sunlight, her dark hair had shone like new money, all short and stylishly tousled. Her sleeveless peach-colored dress was also short, nowhere near reaching her knees, thus exposing those incredible legs. Sexy but classy. Even clothed, she could melt his insides as if he had just stepped in hot asphalt.
With her sitting there, drumming one perfectly manicured hand on the table, another around the cup, staring off into space, it was all he could do not to leap on her. Face it, he told himself, he still had the hots for this woman.
Yet he hated the sight of her. He hated himself more for wanting her.
He had to stop thinking about her as a woman he’d made love to once upon a time. That wasn’t going to be easy, especially when unbidden snapshots of her naked on the sand, her breasts, plump and juicy in his hands, her legs spread, welcoming his throbbing erection, suddenly flashed through his mind.
Shaking his head, Holt