all her life, sheâsâ¦frugal.â She let out a harsh laugh. âThe richest frugal person youâll ever meet.â
âWhat about your dad?â
âHeâs remarried. Lives in Europe, and I donât see him very often.â
âThey were talking about your mother as if she were there tonight.â
âShe was,â she said. âSheâs Isabel Craftsman.â
Macâs eyes widened. âThe mayor?â
âThe one and only.â
âSo youâre one of those Wellingtons.â
âThat would be me. One of those Wellingtons.â It usually went one of two ways from here. Either the person would stare at her in awe, because her mother, cold and precise as she was, had done excellent things for the city, or the person would sneer, because letâs face it, her mother hadnât gotten to where she was by making friends.
But Mac looked neither awed nor disgusted. âYou really canât go to her if you need help?â
âI could, butâ¦â
âYou wonât,â he finished for her, his eyes filling with something she hadnât seen from him before. Respect. âWhat about your sisters?â
âLike I said, weâre not that close.â
âThe building is worth a fortune.â
âIf I sold it.â She opened her eyes and with fierce determination said, âWhich Iâm not doing. Iâm not walking away from this. Iâm not like them, Mac, those women in there, Iâm not going to be like them if it kills me.â
âYouâre not anything like them,â he agreed.
Sheâd wanted someone on her side tonight, sheâd wanted blind comfort, and this man, her virtual opposite, the thorn in her side, was offering it.
No one had done such a thing for her since Jeff.
Just the thought of him now, with Mac right there, felt like a betrayal to his memory, a stab to her al ready wounded heart, but Mac was throwing her, re acting the way sheâd expect Suzanne to react. A friend. A girlfriend.
Not a man.
But she didnât need him to react this way. Sheâd learned to depend on no one but herself. She was all she needed, sheâd always simply comforted herself, andâ
Mac continued to stand there when she sniffedagain, not running, not reacting to her tears with his own reasoning.
He simply opened his arms.
And she stepped right into them. Stepped into them and steeped herself in his giving heat and overwhelming strength. Then she did as sheâd wanted to, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling the scent of wood, soap and one-hundred-percent man.
Sinking his fingers into her hair, he lifted her face so he could look into it. She looked back, at the chiseled angle of his jaw, his slightly curved lips, his light golden eyes as they ran over her face before locking on hers.
Taylor felt the jolt of his gaze all the way to her toes. She didnât know how it was possible, but in his arms her problems seemed to fade away, chased by equal parts awareness and a morbid excitement she couldnât, wouldnât, deny. Winding her arms around his neck, she pressed a little closer, absorbing the helpless growl of awareness that rumbled up from Macâs chest.
A matching awareness combined with a heady female power that sizzled through her, because he felt it, too, whether he wanted to or not, he felt it, too. Proving it, his hands tightened on her, skimmed down her back, then slowly back up again, chasingany lingering chill with a blooming desire she hadnât expected or wanted but wouldnât deny. âUmâ¦this might be a good time for you to tell me youâre married,â she said. âOr something.â
âIâm not married.â His mouth quirked. âOr something. Iâm not anything with anyone.â
Chest to breast, belly to belly, she stared at him, and he stared at her right back. In that moment, he was the only person in