Maid for Love Page 8

  When his big hands cupped her face and his tongue slid between her lips, her brain shut down and all the reasons this shouldn't be happening ceased to matter.

  Mac's cell phone interrupted the carnal kiss.

  Maddie pulled back from him.

  He groaned and tightened his hold on her. "Let it ring."

  "It might be important."

  "Trust me, it isn't." He tried to kiss her again. "This is important."

  She held him off. "You need to get it."

  Still groaning, he crawled over to his backpack to retrieve the phone. "What?"

  "Mac? What kind of way is that to answer the phone?"

  "I'm busy, Mom." He glanced at Maddie, who quickly looked away. Fabulous. One step forward, two steps back. "What do you need?"

  "It's all over town that you're answering her door in a towel and buying her lobster."

  "So what?"

  "Why should you care? You don't live here."

  "Is there a purpose to this call, Mother?"

  "I'd like to know when you'll be home—here."

  He ventured another glance at Maddie, who was doing her best not to look at him. "I'm bringing Maddie and her son Thomas to dinner tomorrow."

  "What?" his mother and Maddie said in stereo.

  "Six thirty good for you? I have to work, so I need time to get back here to shower and pick them up."

  His mother said nothing for so long he thought she'd hung up. No such luck. "Six thirty is fine," she said stiffly.

  "We'll see you then. Make your famous pot roast, will you? I miss that."

  "Anything else?"

  "Well, you know I love your chocolate cake."

  "You and I are going to have a very long talk, young man. Do you hear me?"

  "Are you hearing all that static on the line? Gotta go. See you tomorrow." Chuckling, Mac ended the call, imagining the scene at his parents' house. He felt a little sorry for his father.

  "There's no way I'm going to dinner there."

  "It'll be great. They'll go nuts over Thomas."

  "You can't ask this of me, Mac. I clean that house."

  "So you can't eat there?"

  "You have no clue how things work around here."

  "I don't care and neither should you. Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

  She gave him an arch look. "You were about to put medicine on my elbow."

  "That's not how I remember it."

  With a gentle push to his chest, she turned her injured arm so he could have access.

  "If you want to be that way about it…"

  "I do."

  Mac applied ointment and bandages to her elbow and hand.

  "You can't come in here and upend my whole life and then just walk away," she said after a long period of quiet while he dressed her wounds.

  Her soft words and the bravery behind them touched him. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "You're going back to Miami."

  "Not for a while."

  "Don't you have a business to run?"

  "I'm taking some time off."

  "How much time?"

  "A month or two."

  "That's an awfully long vacation."

  He looked up at her. "Can you keep a big secret? One that would freak out my mother?"

  "You knocked up some floozy in Florida, and now she's after the family fortune?"

  "Very funny. You're just a regular comedienne, aren't you?"

  Her unexpected giggle took his breath away. "You should do that more often."

  "What? Make fun of you?"

  "Laugh. It sounds good coming from you. So do you want to hear my secret?"

  Maddie settled back into the sofa, her face still pale from the pain of her injuries. "Yes, I want to hear your dirty secret."

  "I never said it was dirty." Mac sat next to her and brought her feet to rest in his lap. "I had an anxiety attack last week. It scared the hell out of me. I thought I was having a heart attack."

  Concern radiated from her. "What brought that on?"

  "Too much stress, not enough sleep, skipping meals."

  "So you're on a forced vacation?"

  "I guess you could say that, but I also wanted to see my dad and find out if he really plans to sell McCarthy's."

  "You've heard about that, huh?"

  "Yeah. It makes me so sad to think of that place belonging to a stranger."

  "Well, your dad can't work forever."

  "I know." Mac began to massage her feet. Talking to her was almost as much fun as kissing her, and it seemed that he couldn't be near her and not want to touch her. "You have the softest skin."

  She tried to remove her feet from his lap, but he didn't let go. "I can't do this, Mac. I don't take these kinds of risks. They don't work out well for me."

  "Will you give me a chance? That's all I'm asking for."

  "I have to consider Thomas."

  "I know you're a package deal."

  "I can't think with you sucking up all the space around here."

  He flashed her a smug smile.

  "I knew that would go straight to your head," she muttered.

  "I have to take the compliments where I can get them. You're rather stingy that way." He watched her stifle a yawn. "Let's get you into bed." After helping her to the chair across the room, he unfolded her bed and turned down the covers. "Do you want me to sleep on the porch?"

  Maddie thought about that. "It's already all over town that you're answering my door in a towel and buying me lobster, so I guess the damage is done."

  "Are you sure? I don't want to cause you any more trouble than I already have."

  "Yes, you do."

  He couldn't help but smile at her sauciness as he tucked her in.

  "Use the sofa cushions to make a bed on the floor." She directed him to a closet in the hallway for a pillow, and after checking on Thomas one last time, Mac settled into his sleeping bag on the floor. A balmy harbor breeze rippled through the window sheers, and the full moon cast a glow upon the room.

  "How's the pain?"

  "Okay."

  "Want some more pain pills?"

  "No, thanks."

  "What time do I have to be at work tomorrow?"

  "Nine thirty."

  "Maybe you should tell me what I'm going to do once I get there—if you're not too tired."

  "The first thing you have to do is report to housekeeping in the basement and punch in."

  Mac listened to her talk about crazy Sundays and how to stock the cart with towels, clean sheets, toiletries, toilet paper and cleaning supplies. Lulled by her soft voice, he had to force himself to pay attention.

  "Are you listening to me?"

  "Absolutely. No DNA. Check."

  "I said more than that."

  "But DNA is the deal-breaker with Ethel."

  "She freaks out if she finds any sign of the previous guest—and I mean any sign."

  Mac chuckled. "Does she go through the rooms with a blue light after you clean?"

  "You're better off leaving nothing to chance."

  "How much DNA are we talking about?"

  "That's for me to know and you to find out."

  "Ewww, gross."

  "Precisely."

  "I'm feeling another anxiety attack coming on."

  Her sharp intake of breath made him regret the joke. "Really?"

  "I'm fine, but I appreciate your concern."

  Maddie threw a sofa pillow that hit him square in the face.

  "Oof," Mac said, laughing. "Good shot."

  "Don't joke about that. You scared me."

  "Whoa! I think she might be starting to care about me."

  "Nah, I just don't need the scandal of you kicking it in my house."

  "That hurts, Maddie."

  "You'll survive."

  "Wanna make out?"

  "No!"

  Mac smiled, imagining the look on her face. "Yes, you do."

  "I'm going to sleep now."

  "Talk to me som
e more."

  "About what?"

  "Anything."

  "My life is kind of boring."

  "Was it just you and Tiffany?"

  "And my mom."

  "Where was your dad?"

  She paused for a long time. "He went to the mainland one day and never came back."

  Mac winced. "You've never seen him again?"

  "No. He sent my mother a letter a couple of weeks later saying he couldn't live on an island anymore."

  Mac could understand that but kept the thought to himself.

  "That was the last we ever heard from him."

  "How old were you?"

  "Five. Tiff was three. She doesn't remember him at all."

  "But you do."

  "Vividly. He used to toss me over his head, and I'd scream and laugh."

  "You must've missed him terribly."

  "We could see the ferry landing from our apartment over the Galley." She referred to a restaurant in town. "For weeks, I watched every person come off every boat. I really thought he'd change his mind."

  Mac's heart broke for her. Life could be so unfair. He also had a better idea now of what an uphill climb he faced in getting her to trust him. "I'm sorry."

  "It was a long time ago."

  Mac didn't know if it was wise to pursue it, but he had so many questions. "It must've been hard on your mom all by herself."

  "We were always struggling. She never has been able to handle money, which is how she finally managed to land in jail." Maddie released a nervous-sounding laugh. "Anyway, you don't want to hear about my soap opera life."

  "I want to hear it all."

  "Even how the other kids tormented me from sixth grade on because I was the first one to develop?"

  "If you want to tell me."

  Mac waited, hoping she would trust him with her deepest secrets. Then, finally, she began to talk.

  Chapter 6

  "I started getting chest pains when I was ten. I was too afraid to tell anyone because I thought I might be dying or something. I was a B cup by eleven, and the kids at school called me Chesty Chester. My mother bought me a bikini the summer between sixth and seventh grade. That was the first time I became aware of boys and grown men checking out my chest and figure. That was also when my big T-shirt phase started." She paused and released another nervous-sounding laugh. "Jeez, what is it about you? I never talk about this stuff."

  "You don't have to now if you don't want to."

  "I don't mind. It's all ancient history anyway."

  But it wasn't. Mac doubted she could hear the hurt that resonated even as she attempted flippancy.

  "In middle school, the boys started snapping my bra in the lunch line. It became a contest to see who could get to me the most times in a day. I started carrying my books around in a heavy backpack so they couldn't get to my bra."

  "Doesn't that count as assault or something?"

  "Reporting them would've only made things worse for me."

  "That's so wrong."

  "I thought it couldn't get any worse, but I got my period in eighth grade, and within six months I was a D. Suddenly, every boy in school wanted to date Maddie Chester and her big boobs."

  "Did you go out with any of them?"

  "There was this one boy … John." Her voice went soft, her tone wistful. "He was really nice to me. For months he walked me home and carried my backpack. He wouldn't let the other boys snap my bra. I thought he was different."

  Mac's stomach began to hurt. He so didn't want to hear this. With every tale she related, the mountain before him seemed to get a little steeper and the potential fall that much more sheer. "But he wasn't?"

  "Turns out all that time he was pretending to be my friend, he was really hoping to get his hands on my breasts. The first time I let him kiss me, he went right for second base. He was quick, and before I could even react, he had his hands under my bra, mauling me. I'm pretty sure he … you know … in his pants."

  Mac uttered an expletive under his breath. If that guy walked into the room right then, Mac would've beat the hell out of him.

  "He was the first to kiss and tell. It was all over school the next day that he'd scored the first feel of Maddie Chester's famous boobs. After that, I faked sick for a week so I wouldn't have to face them."

  "But eventually you had to go back."

  "Uh huh, and everyone looked at me differently. That was the start of people thinking I was easy."

  "It's just so unfair," he said, pained for the defenseless girl who had been betrayed by someone she considered a friend.

  "Since then I've never known if a guy was interested in me or in them, you know?"

  "I can imagine."

  "It got worse in high school. The boys were all over me, and the other girls hated me because I was so popular with the guys."

  "Sounds like it was lonely for you."

  "It was. After awhile, I got sick of being alone all the time and decided to go out with one of them."

  "How'd that go?"

  "Just like I expected—him constantly trying to cop a feel and me constantly fending him off. After a while, he got pissed. He said he'd treated me well and it was time for me to return the favor."

  "What the heck did that mean?"

  "He demanded I have sex with him."

  "How old were you?"

  "Fifteen."

  "Jesus," he whispered. "What'd you do?"

  "I refused, because by then just being around him made me sick. He got so mad. For a few minutes, I thought he was going to hit me or something."

  "Tell me he didn't—"

  "No, but it might've been better if he had. Instead, he went to school the next day, told everyone I'd done him and all his friends on the beach the night before, and the Maddie Mattress nickname was born."

  Mac wanted to weep. "And none of the other guys spoke up to say it wasn't true? No one?"

  "They wouldn't have dared to contradict him."

  "Who was he?" Mac's chest contracted with familiar pains, but that was the least of his worries at the moment.

  "I'm sure you don't know him…"

  "Who was he?" He made an effort to keep his voice down when he wanted to roar.

  "Darren Tuttle."

  A sharp pain took Mac's breath away. "He was my brother Evan's friend."

  "Yes."

  Mac's hand rolled into a fist. "Did he name my brother as one of the guys who was there that night?"

  Maddie's silence answered for her.

  "And he didn't deny it?"

  "None of them did."

  "I'll kill him."

  "Mac, really, it was a long time ago. It doesn't matter now."

  "It does matter! Those rumors ruined your life."

  "It was my fault for sticking around here after high school. I should've gone somewhere else as soon as I was old enough, but money was always an issue, and I couldn't leave my mother. Believe it or not, she has it in her head that she needs to be here in case my father comes back."

  "Nothing about this is your fault, Maddie. Nothing."

  "You're supposed to be relaxing, not getting all upset."

  Mac was so far beyond upset he wasn't even sure what to call it. "Who is Thomas's father?"

  He could almost hear her thinking and deciding.

  "Tell me."

  After another long pause, she said, "He was a guest at the hotel two winters ago. He was writing a book, and we got to be friends. One thing led to another…"

  "Was he the first one, you know…"

  "First and only."

  Mac released a long deep breath. How could she say that what Darren Tuttle and his friends did to her hadn't ruined her life? She was twenty-eight the first time she had sex. "What happened with him?"

  "He was ten years older than me. He told me he'd had a vasectomy years ago because he didn't want kids. I stupidly fell for that, thinking we had something special."

  Mac wanted to cover his ears so he wouldn't have to hear about yet another terr
ible hurt.

  "We were together twice before he texted me to say he had to get back to the mainland to take care of some business, but it'd been nice knowing me. He'd been gone three weeks when I realized I was pregnant."

  "That bastard."

  "I don't regret it. Thomas is the best thing to ever happen to me. I love him more than anything."

  "His father should be helping you. Financially, at least."

  "I'd never want him to know. What if he came back and tried to take Thomas from me? I'll never tell him."

  So the woman everyone thought of as the town tramp had had sex exactly twice in her life. Mac churned with things he wished he could say and anger he didn't know what to do with. He wanted to find all the men who'd harmed her, starting with her deadbeat father, and pummel them until they hurt the way she had. Even that, however, wouldn't be enough. It would only be half of what they deserved.

  "What're you thinking?" she asked tentatively. "You're so quiet."

  Mac made an effort to keep the fury out of his voice. That wasn't what she needed from him after sharing secrets he suspected she probably hadn't shared with anyone but her sister. "You're one of the bravest people I've ever known, and I'm honored you told me all this."

  "I'm not what they think I am."

  Her quiet dignity affected him more than anything else. "I already knew that."

  "I didn't want to like you. You're Evan McCarthy's brother and Linda's son. But you're not like them. You're so much better."

  "Thank you, honey," he said, his voice hoarse with emotions he'd never felt quite so strongly before. That she had trusted him with her deepest secrets was one of the best gifts he'd ever received. He reached up for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. "I wish I could take a big broom and sweep away all the old hurts."

  "You're sweet to want to."

  "I really wish I could."

  "No one's ever wanted to do anything like that for me before."

  "That's too bad. You deserve to be happy."

  She squeezed his hand. "I told you all my stuff. Now you have to tell me some of yours."

  In an effort to lighten the mood, Mac regaled her with funny stories of growing up with three brothers and a sister that made her laugh, and he swore he made her cry when he told her about the injury that ended his professional baseball aspirations. As she continued to hold his hand, she asked about the women he'd dated, and he told her. After what she'd shared with him, keeping secrets from her—any secrets—just seemed foolish. By the time they ran out of conversation, the first hints of daylight were peeking through the windows, and his arm had fallen asleep hours ago, but still he held her hand.