The pizza parlor was crowded and noisy, but the four Marshalls managed to find an empty booth. A discussion immediately ensued regarding what toppings should be on their pizza.
“Just cheese,” Emma said. “No other goop. Just cheese.”
“No way,” Melissa said. “It should have everything ’cept those little fishy things.”
“Yuck,” Emma said. “I only like cheese on my pizza, Melissa, and you know it.” She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in the booth, glaring at her sister. “I don’t want to have to pick all that junk off so I can eat my cheese.”
“Aren’t they charming?” Heather said, smiling at Mack. “Ah, sisterly love.”
“And what do you like on your pizza, Heather?” Mack said.
“Anything,” Heather said, shrugging. “Everything.” She laughed. “But not those little fishy things.”
“Okay,” Mack said, nodding. “This is easily solved. Moving right along…what about drinks?”
“Can we have soda, Mom?” Melissa said. “Please? Please? Please?”
“Yes, all right,” Heather said. “Going out for pizza is a very special treat, so we might as well go for the gusto. You may have soda.”
“Yes,” Melissa said, punching one fist in the air.
“You shouldn’t do that, Melissa,” Emma said. “You’re going to hit somebody right in the nose.”
“I am not,” Melissa said.
“That’s enough, girls,” Heather said. “Uncle Mack doesn’t want to hear you squabbling any more than I do, so stop it right now.”
“’Kay,” Melissa said. “Sorry.”
“Sorry,” Emma said, “but it better not be my nose Melissa hits.”
Mack laughed. “Mine, either. I’m off to order the pizzas. Melissa, Emma, try not to do bodily harm to each other while I’m gone.”
“Let’s color our place mats, Emma,” Melissa said, reaching for a basket of crayons on the table. “I’ll let you have the red first.”
“’Kay,” Emma said.
“Thank you, girls. That’s much better behavior,” Heather said absently as she watched Mack make his way across the crowded room.
Heavens, she thought, the women in this place were practically falling off their chairs to get a good look at Mack. He didn’t seem to be paying the least bit of attention to the female gawkers, though. He was probably used to being given second, third and fourth approving glances. And with just cause.
Well, too bad, ladies, because Mack Marshall was taken for the evening. He was with her. Well, with the twins too but… They appeared, she supposed, to be a family—Mom, Dad, and cute twin daughters. They all had the same black hair and dark eyes and—yes, they most definitely looked like a family who had decided to go out for pizza on a Friday night.
Heather sighed.
That was how it should have been, how she’d hoped and dreamed it would be when she’d married Frank. She’d envisioned being part of a loving couple, then later there would be children born of that love. That dream had been shattered so quickly, it was as though it had never existed in her heart, mind and soul.
“Can I have the red now, Emma?” Melissa said.
“Sure,” she said, handing over the crayon.
Heather shifted her gaze to her daughters and smiled. Their heads were bent over their place mats, each paying careful attention to their coloring.
All the tears she’d shed, when she discovered that Frank was not the man she’d thought him to be were worth it tenfold. Her broken heart had been put back together by the birth of her two little miracles, Emma and Melissa. Just looking at them made it easy to understand why Mack wanted to bond with his newfound family.
Please, Uncle Mack, please don’t die. I don’t want you to die the way our daddy did. He can’t die. He just found us and he’s part of our family now and we get to keep him forever. Right, Mommy? Please, Mommy?
Oh, dear, Heather thought, pressing her fingertips to her temples. She had to talk to Mack. Between them they had to remind the girls that Mack would be leaving soon, slip in that fact whenever conversation made it feasible.
The twins were becoming very fond of Mack very quickly. They didn’t want to lose him the way they’d lost the father they had never even known. They wanted their mommy to tell them that they could keep Uncle Mack forever, and that yearning had to be nipped in the bud. She didn’t want her daughters’ hearts to be broken when Mack left Tucson.
And your heart, Heather? she asked herself. When she’d hugged Mack to thank him for the beautiful vase, she’d been struck by a sense of being where she belonged, encircled in his strong, protective arms. And she’d felt that heat again, that raging, burning heat of what she knew was desire, of a woman wanting a man, wanting to make love with that man. Wanting Mack.
Stop it, she admonished herself. This was ridiculous. She hardly knew Mack Marshall, but there she sat, admitting that she desired him, wanted him. That was terrible, and frightening and—
Well, it made sense in a way. It had been many years since she’d been held by a man, made to feel special and pretty and feminine.
It wasn’t Mack, she told herself, it was simply the fact that he was there, close to her, nudging awake her womanliness that had been slumbering for a very long time.
It was basic biological urges, and had nothing to do with Mack the man.
Yes, of course, she’d miss Mack when he left. What woman wouldn’t? That would be a normal reaction. But within a short while after Mack left, she and the girls would be back to their routine and the memories of the time spent with Mack would fade, then be forgotten. They’d get a Christmas card from him and remember the fun they’d shared and that would be that.
In the meantime, Heather thought, curbing a smile, she most definitely would refrain from tearing Mack’s clothes off his magnificent body in her mind and flinging him onto her bed.
Mack slid back into the booth, causing Heather to jerk in surprise as she was pulled from her thoughts.
“Here you go, girls,” Mack said. “Tokens for the video games.”
“Oh, wow,” Melissa said. “We get to play video games? Cool. Thank you, Uncle Mack. Come on, Emma.”
“Hold it,” Heather said, raising one hand. “You stay on this side of the rows of machines, where I can see you.”
“No-o-o-o problem,” Emma said. “Thank you, Uncle Mack. We never get to play video games. Take care of my Barbie doll, okay?”
“And my mitt,” Melissa said.
“No-o-o-o problem,” Mack said, laughing.
The girls hurried from the booth and Heather watched until she saw that they were staying where she could see them. She shifted her attention to Mack, who was frowning.
“What’s wrong?” Heather said.
“I was just thinking about the girls’ reaction to finding out that I’d been shot,” he said. “They said they didn’t want me to die like their daddy had. Do you think they need grief counseling or something, to get closure about the death of their father?”
“No, no,” Heather said, shaking her head. “They never even met their father.” She paused. “Thank goodness. Anyway, I think what happened is that they view you as a member of the family, a male addition. The only emotional reference they have to a man in the family is the one who died. Hence, they don’t want you to die, too.”
“Oh,” Mack said, nodding. “You certainly know a great deal about child psychology, Heather.”
“No,” she said, laughing, “I was just a six-year-old girl once myself.” She frowned. “Besides, I have had a lot of experience projecting my past onto my present and making grave errors by doing so. I can understand the transference the girls made when they knew you had been hurt.”
“Back up, here,” Mack said. “You’re obviously glad the girls never met their father. Was Frank one of the errors you made?”
Heather nodded. “Mack, Frank Marshall was a selfish man, who packed up and walked out on me when I told him I was pregnant. I’m very sorry if it upsets you to learn that your brother was not what you might want to believe he was, but facts are facts.”
“Frank was my half brother,” Mack said, “and no, it doesn’t upset me to learn he was a bum, except for it causing you such hardship and pain. Why did you marry him in the first place, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“It was Basic Psychology 101,” Heather said, shrugging. “My seventeen-year-old unwed mother went to the store for milk and left me with my grandmother. That is the longest trip to the market in history, because she never came back.”
“Ah, man, that’s rotten,” Mack said, covering one of Heather’s hands with one of his on top of the table. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s old, old news. My grandmother was wonderful, but she passed away when I was fourteen and I was swept up into the foster care system, then out on my own when I was eighteen.
“When Frank Marshall came along, oozing charm, giving me his undivided attention, I grabbed hold and hung on. Here was my chance to belong to someone, to not be abandoned again, to be loved. I was twenty years old and I suddenly saw a future that held all my hopes and dreams.
“Oh, what a joke. Six months after Frank and I were married, I found out I was pregnant and he left. Three weeks after that, he was killed while driving drunk. End of Frank. End of story.”
“Heather,” Mack said, stroking the side of her hand with his thumb. “I…”
“No, please, let me finish. I’m not telling you this sordid tale to gain your sympathy—in fact, my friend Susie is the only other person I’ve ever confided in about my past. But I need you to understand my concerns about the girls.
“We have to remind the twins that you’ll be leaving in a couple of weeks. They mustn’t believe they get to keep you forever, because the fact is you won’t be here with us. You…you will…be gone. And I don’t want their hearts broken.”
And if he didn’t let go of her hand, Heather thought frantically, didn’t stop that maddening, tantalizing, heat-evoking stroking with his thumb, her bones were going to dissolve.
“You’re wrong, Heather,” Mack said, tightening his hold on her hand. “Yes, okay, so I’ll leave when I’m due to have my shoulder checked over, but I’ll be back to visit in the future. The girls will get to keep me forever, because I’m a permanent member of the family.”
“Mack, you’re viewing this as an adult,” Heather said, shaking her head. “Try thinking like a six-year-old. To the twins, keeping you forever means that you never leave at all, don’t you see? We can’t let the girls believe that, even fantasize about it, or they’ll be heart-broken when you go. I won’t allow that to happen to them.” She paused. “May I have my hand back, please?”
“Not yet,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I want to tell you that I admire and respect you very much. You were dealt some lousy cards in life, but you’ve played out the hand with class and dignity. Melissa and Emma are extremely fortunate little girls to have you for their mother.”
“Thank you,” Heather said softly. “That was a lovely thing to say.”
“I meant every word.”
Mack looked directly into Heather’s eyes as he once again began to stroke her hand with his thumb. Heather was unable to tear her gaze from Mack’s, and the people, the noise, the pizza parlor itself, seemed to fade into oblivion as they were encased in a sensuous mist. It swirled around them, seeming to pull them closer and closer together even though they hadn’t moved.
“Drink delivery,” a voice said.
Heather and Mack jumped at the sudden intrusion, quickly pulling their hands apart to rest below the table. A teenage boy stood by their table holding a tray with a pitcher of soda and four glasses.
“Thanks,” Mack said, the gritty quality of his voice echoing in his ears.
As the boy placed the pitcher and glasses on the table, Mack cleared his throat and shifted slightly in the booth, willing his aroused body back under control.
Heather Marshall, he thought, was pushing his libido buttons…big time. He’d been consumed with desire when she pinned him in place with those gorgeous dark eyes of hers.
If any other woman had looked at him the way Heather just had, he’d read that message as a “Go,” and the evening would conclude with making love.
But this was Heather and he knew, just somehow knew, she didn’t have a clue that desire had shown in her dark eyes, that her lips had been slightly parted, just waiting to be kissed, that there had been a flush to her cheeks caused by the same heat that had consumed him.
No, Heather wasn’t like the women he knew. Not even close. Despite the fact that she’d given birth, she was an innocent, a very unworldly woman, who didn’t play the game, nor know the rules.
So, he was going to have to be noble, not take advantage of Heather, even though he wanted her with an intensity that was far beyond anything he could remember experiencing before.
He’d seen the passion in Heather’s eyes, but did she realize that she desired him? Was she even aware of what was happening between them? Surely she knew. But then again, it had been many years since she’d been married to his half brother, and he had a feeling there had been no time, nor inclination on Heather’s part, to date anyone while scrambling to provide for her daughters.
Damn, this was getting rather depressing. Heather Marshall could very well desire him as much as he did her, and not even know it. To take advantage of what he’d seen in her eyes, on her face, would put him in the same category as Frank.
“What are you scowling about?” Heather said as the waiter walked away.
“Oh…nothing,” Mack said, producing a small smile. “Heather, I’m honored that you trust me enough to have told me about your past. I know you felt you had to tell me so I could better understand the twins, but…thank you.” He paused. “What do the girls know about their father?”
“Very little,” she said. “I’ve kept it simple because lies have a way of multiplying. I told the girls that their daddy was a very nice man, that I’m sorry they never had a chance to know him, and gave them a picture of him to keep in their room. Thankfully they’ve asked very few questions about him.”
Mack nodded, then tilted his head to one side to look past her. “That’s our number for the pizza. I’ll be right back and I’ll collect the girls when I come.”
As Mack walked away, Heather sank back in the booth and placed her hand on her heart for a moment.
Something strange happened when she’d looked into Mack’s dark eyes, she thought. It was as though they’d been transported to another place, out of the pizza parlor, and into a mist that had virtually crackled with sensuality.
Had Mack been as suffused with raging, burning desire as she had? Did he want her the way she wanted him? Was he viewing her as a woman, not just as the mother of Emma and Melissa?
Oh, that was a silly thought. She was falling prey to Mack’s masculine magnetism only because it had been so long since she’d been in close proximity to a man. Mack was probably so accustomed to being with any woman of his choice that someone with her lack of sophistication was having no effect on him whatsoever.
That was a comforting conclusion, Heather thought. It was a tad hard on the ego, but it was safe, would definitely help her to move past her overreactions to Mack and enable her to place him firmly in the role of the twins’ uncle where he belonged.
And this whole scenario was becoming so confusing and complicated it was exhausting.
“I lost every game I played,” Melissa said, sliding into the booth and picking up her precious mitt.
“Me, too,” Emma said, sitting across from her sister. “I was blasted into bits by the evil monsters in the spaceship.”
Mack placed two pizzas on the table, then settled next to Emma in the booth.
“Nothing like some violent fun games to play,” Heather said, smiling. “That’s enough of those for one night. Mmm. That pizza smells delicious.”
“Dig in, ladies,” Mack said. “You see before you one pizza with just cheese and one with everything on it except the little fishies.” He filled the glasses with soda. “There. Is everybody happy?”
“Yep,” Melissa said, reaching for a piece of the pizza with the multitude of toppings.
“Yep,” Emma echoed, then took a bite of a cheese-only slice Heather had placed on her plate.
“And you, Heather?” Mack said, looking at her intently. “Are you happy?”
Mack wasn’t asking her opinion about the pizza, Heather thought. He was, she somehow knew, doing a survey on her life in general. He was assuming, she supposed, that no one living how she did, where she did, could possibly be content. Well, she had news for Mr. Marshall.
“Yes,” she said, lifting her chin. “I’m very happy, Mack.”
Mack nodded slowly. “Mmm. You’re very positive about that?”
“Very,” she said.
“Oh, no,” Melissa said. “I spilled soda on my new shirt.”
Heather tore her gaze from Mack’s, picked up a napkin, and wiped the soda from the front of Melissa’s Garfield shirt.
“It won’t stain, sweetie,” she said. “I’ll wash it in time for you to wear it to school on Monday.”
“’Kay,” Melissa said, then took another bite of her pizza.
That wasn’t a new shirt Melissa was wearing, Mack thought, frowning. It was slightly faded and he could see a darn on one of the sleeves.
Melissa had been so excited about her new shirt when he’d arrived at the house, but these kids, and possibly Heather too wore secondhand clothes.
That wasn’t the way it should be. They were Marshalls, part of his family, and they deserved better than having wardrobes of other people’s castoffs. He was going to do something about it. Somehow.
“Did you think about your dream yet, Uncle Mack?” Emma said, bringing him from his thoughts. “You know, the one you don’t got?”
“Don’t have,” Heather said. “It’s probably difficult to think about a missing dream when a person is on vacation, Emma. Uncle Mack will no doubt have better luck at finding his dream once he goes home to New York City. Right, Mack?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Mack said. “I’ll still be the same person, whether I’m here in Tucson or back in New York.”
Heather narrowed her eyes and leaned slightly forward. “But you are only in Tucson for a few weeks. Right? You’ll be able to think better in your own home after you leave here…soon.” She paused. “Right, Mack?”
“Oh!” Mack nodded. “Yes. I’m on vacation. I’ll need to return to work…soon.”
“You can take pictures anywhere,” Melissa said. “You could buy a house and live in Tucson forever if you wanted to.”
“He doesn’t have enough money for a house, Melissa,” Emma said, “and he doesn’t even have a dream piggy to save for one. Besides, Mommy said maybe Uncle Mack doesn’t want a house. Do you want a house, Uncle Mack?”
“It probably wouldn’t be a good idea,” Mack said. “I wouldn’t be there enough to mow the lawn and keep everything looking nice.”
“You should quit going away all the time,” Melissa said. “If you had a house, you could get a dog. That would be so cool. We’re going to get a dog when we buy our dream house, aren’t we, Mommy?”
“Yes, we are,” Heather said. “We’ll go to the pound and get a cute, small dog.”
“Sounds good,” Mack said. “When I was a boy, I really wanted a dog. I was going to name him Butch. But…” He shrugged.
“How come you never got your dog named Butch?” Melissa said.
“I lived with just my father,” Mack said, “and he…well, he didn’t like to stay in one place for too long. We moved to a lot of different cities while I was growing up, and it’s pretty hard to have a dog when you keep packing and going.”
“Oh,” Melissa said. “I wouldn’t like that. You had to leave your friends all the time and go to a new school and…no, that’s not good at all. That’s terrible, just terrible.”
“I got used to it,” Mack said. “Actually, Melissa, it wasn’t terrible because I still don’t stay in one place for long and I’ve had a lot of practice at traveling because of how I grew up. Some people just don’t—can’t—put down roots and I’m one of them.”
“What does that mean?” Melissa said. “Put down roots? Like a tree?”
“Well, yes, sort of like a tree,” Mack said, nodding. “A tree stays where it’s planted, where its roots are. People do that, too, but I don’t.”
“How do you know you wouldn’t like to have roots like a tree,” Melissa said, “if you never tried it?”
Mack opened his mouth, closed it, then chuckled. “The FBI could use this kid, Heather. She’s a tough interrogator.”
“Believe me,” Heather said, smiling, “I’m well aware of that. Emma is the same way. You might as well give up and answer her question. How do you know you wouldn’t like to have roots like a tree if you’ve never tried it?”
“Well,” Mack said slowly, “I’ve been moving around for thirty-seven years, ladies, and I believe it’s rather late in the game for me to change. I’m just not capable of having roots like a tree.”
“Terrible,” Melissa said. “Just terrible.”
“Don’t you get sad having to say goodbye to everybody all the time?” Emma said. “I would be so-o-o sad, and lonely, and I’d cry, and cry, and cry.”
“So would I, Emma,” Heather said quietly, looking at her daughter. “I wouldn’t want to be living a life of goodbyes. I’ve had enough of those already.”
“Maybe you could make having roots like a tree your very own dream, Uncle Mack,” Emma said. “Then you wouldn’t have to say goodbye all the time, and be sad, and lonely, and stuff.”
“But I don’t get sad and lonely and…” Mack started, then his voice trailed off.
A vivid image of being sprawled in the dirt, bleeding, thinking he was going to die alone in that godforsaken place flashed in his mental vision and a chill coursed through him, causing a cold fist to tighten in his gut.
“Well, things are different now,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse. “I’ve found all of you. I have a family. If I’m on the other side of the world and start to get lonely, I’ll just think about the three of you and I’m sure I’ll feel much better.”
“If we’re your family,” Melissa said, reaching for another slice of pizza, “then you shouldn’t leave us. You should stay with us forever and ever. That’s what families are supposed to do.” She sighed. “But they don’t. Buzzy’s daddy went to live with another mother, and our daddy died, and…people just don’t follow the rules about families one little bit.”
“Maybe that’s ’cause not everybody knows what the rules are,” Emma said. “We could teach you the rules about staying with us forever and ever, Uncle Mack, and then you could have roots like a tree.”
“Well, I…” Mack said.
“Emma,” Heather said, “Uncle Mack has said that he just isn’t the kind of person who stays in one place for long. We have to respect that. Everyone is different, and just because they don’t think like we do, it doesn’t make them wrong. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“No,” Emma said, frowning. “Families should stay together forever and ever, and that’s that.”
Heather glanced heavenward. “Let’s change the subject.” She paused. “But you girls have got to remember that Uncle Mack will be leaving soon.”
“Well, fine,” Emma said, folding her arms over her chest. “But when Uncle Mack leaves, I’m going to cry. So there.”
“I’ll cry with you, Emma,” Melissa said, nodding. “I will.”
I won’t, Heather thought. The only reason she would cry when Mack left would be if he was taking her heart with him. And that wasn’t going to happen.