With a flick of her wrist, Mac brushed her unruly hair off her forehead and pressed her shoulders back. The other women had already been in proper formation when Mac stumbled in beneath the dark disapproving mien of the Major. Could she help it if the off-key carolers had kept her awake? She hadn’t dozed off until nearly dawn, and had consequently overslept.
As the Major began his inspection, Mac suppressed a shiver at the memory of the nightmare that had plagued her short slumber. A leather belt and a piano wire merged as the murderer had morphed into the devil from her own past.
“Did you sleep well, Miss McAllister?”
The Major’s precise tones snapped her back to the present.
“Fine, thank you, sir,” Mac responded with a plastered-on smile.
The man pinched his lips together in a cross between a grimace and a frown. He continued down the row and she sighed in relief. The Major’s sharp look told her the sigh hadn’t gone unnoticed.
If this were the army, she would be busted down to private without further ado. The image of the Major ripping the stripes from her sleeves made her snort. It also bought her another glare from the military mutant.
My ass is grass and the Major’s a big old bovine.
That image threatened a bout of giggles, but she managed to contain them.
The Major completed his inspection tour and dismissed them. “Miss McAllister, you will remain here,” he commanded.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, her humor fleeing.
Less than thirty seconds later, the room was empty, save for the austere Major and Mac.
He strolled over to her, hands clasped behind his back, and circled her slowly. Her heart skipped a beat and her forehead grew clammy. What was he thinking?
He stopped in front of her. “I have received some rather disturbing news.”
“Hope it didn’t spoil your day,” she said flippantly, then wanted to bite her tongue. Her first editor had told her it was her mouth that would inevitably get her into trouble. Of course, he hadn’t known her mouth would end up in the nineteenth century along with the rest of her.
“It did not. However, I believe it may spoil yours.”
Did he know she was from the future? No, he couldn’t. Only Miss Sparrow did, and Mac suspected she was as adamant about keeping that secret as Mac herself.
The man’s jaw muscle clenched and unclenched. “You were seen exiting the room of Mr. Jared Yates.”
Jane.
For some reason, the girl had a beef with Mac and she’d found a way to punch below the belt.
“We were merely discussing the murder of Linda, sir,” Mac said, her nostrils flaring with pent-up frustration.
“Why?”
Should she tell him about her reporter status? Mentally, she shook her head. He wouldn’t care. His first and foremost concern was the smooth running of the Chesterfield, which included the enforcement of the stringent moral codes inflicted on the employees. The female employees.
“As you know, Mr. Yates has been pursuing the killer of his fiancée, a murderer who has also strangled several other women. I had a theory I wished to discuss with him,” Mac replied.
“And that theory was?”
Mac stared at the imperious little man and considered the possibility that he could be the murderer. If she kept to the theory that the man jumped back and forth in time to do his dirty work, the Major would have to be gone for a length of time that would inevitably be noticed. No, his guilt didn’t seem very probable.
“That our murderer is a very confused man,” she finally replied with a smirk.
The Major’s face reddened. “‘Our murderer.’ Since when do proper young women involve themselves in such ugly matters as murder?”
Mac’s temper spiked. “When the men who run this place won’t even see fit to warn their female employees of a demented killer who gets his jollies murdering women.”
Shock, anger, indignation and reproach—she clearly read each emotion in the alternating shades of apoplexy that crossed the Major’s thin ascetic face. Finally his expression settled into . . . discomfort.
“You are unaccountably well informed for being here for so short a time,” he said stiffly.
Mac had expected him to rip her a new one. From past experience, she knew the signs too well. Instead, he had managed to surprise her with a guilt-ridden tone. She eyed him warily. “I heard things and put two and two together. My mama didn’t raise an idiot.”
The Major coughed discreetly. “I suspected as much. However, this does not change the unfortunate circumstances.”
A cold fist knotted Mac’s stomach. “What unfortunate circumstances?” But even as she asked, she knew. Jane had ratted on her and the Major was obligated to take action.
“You were found to be in attendance with a man without a proper chaperon. That is immutable grounds for dismissal.” His military bearing wilted. “I am sorry, Miss McAllister, but I cannot allow such indiscretions to remain unpunished.” He paused and the starch returned to his spine. “You are dismissed from your position.”
Mac’s shoulders slumped. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t suspected this might happen. If he knew about that really big indiscretion in the Garden Room, she doubted he’d be so regretful. She’d broken the rules, and she’d been caught. Nothing new there. Only there were damned few options in this time as opposed to her own.
Self-pity reared its ugly head. Why was it always the woman who had to pay the price? She crossed her arms and fixed a glare on the Major. “What about Mr. Yates? Will he be summarily dismissed from the Chesterfield also?” Before he could reply, she laughed, a cold harsh sound. “Oh, but of course not—he’s a man, and men are expected to sow their wild oats before they settle down, right?” She elbowed the Major and winked.
The Major’s face reddened and Mac wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke erupt from his ears. “Miss McAllister, your impudence is hardly becoming. Please accept your dismissal with at least a modicum of dignity.”
Mac took a deep breath and her anger fled with the exhalation. Exhaustion stepped in to claim the area vacated by her ire. “I’m sorry, Major. I understand why you have to do this, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
He nodded stiffly. “Since you are Miss Sparrow’s cousin, it is doubly difficult to . . . ” He cleared his throat. “What do you intend to do now?”
She shrugged. “I think I’ll try my luck with the newspaper in Hope Springs. I used to do a little reporting.”
The Major scrutinized her. “I have been a friend of Edward Banks, the owner of the Hope Springs Times for many years. Perhaps I can put in a word for you.”
Mac’s mouth gaped and she abruptly closed it. “You’d do that for me?”
The man’s lips remained firmly set, but his eyes held the barest twinkle. “You are a unique individual, Miss McAllister, and I believe you would be a better reporter than a maid.”
Mac grinned. “Damned straight I would be. Thank you.” Impulsively, she hugged his ramrod-straight body. “You won’t regret this, sir.”
She stepped back and the Major raised his chin. “I already do, Miss McAllister.”
But she saw the fondness glimmering in his eyes and her own vision grew blurry. Who would’ve thought the by-the-book Major had a weakness for smart-assed women?
“You may spend the rest of today and tonight here, but I’m afraid you will have to vacate your room by nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” the Major said.
That was twenty-four hours more than Mac had assumed she’d get. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.
“You may go now.”
Mac bobbed her head once and scurried out of the ballroom where the morning inspections were conducted. On her way to the room she shared with Erin, Mac considered her options. There were damned few of them. If she didn’t get a job at the newspaper, she hadn’t a clue what other avenues were open to her.
The other obstacle was clothing. She had her maid’s uniform, but didn’t have enough money saved to buy anything appropriate to wear to an interview. The only other clothes she owned were those she’d worn from her own time period and she couldn’t possibly go to an interview in those. The editor would be scandalized.
Damn it! Why had she involved herself in Jared’s investigation? Why couldn’t she have let sleeping dogs lie? The murders in this time eerily resembled those in hers, but didn’t history often repeat itself?
Why in the world had she suggested going to Jared’s room to discuss the crimes? Had a part of her wanted a repeat of their lovemaking? Sex was fine and dandy, but she had never let it rule her head before. Men followed their dicks; women followed their brains. So why was she thinking about Jared and getting hot and bothered?
It was Jared’s fault. Everything was Jared’s fault, from seducing her to losing her job.
The more she thought about it, the more her temper notched upward. Soon, her anger pulsed in time to her heartbeat. She changed directions and ran up the stairs, holding her skirt a scandalous twelve inches above her ankles. Since it was Jared’s fault, he was going to have to buy her some new clothes. It was the least he could do.
She arrived at his door and pounded. “Open up, Yates. Now!”
The sound of turning doorknobs and creaking doors told Mac she had an audience, but she didn’t give a damn. What could they do—fire her?
Been there, done that. The only thing she needed was the damned T-shirt.
Using a fisted hand, she hammered even harder. “Let me in, Yates. Now!”
The door swung open, and the air in Mac’s lungs whooshed out, leaving her gasping like a landed trout.
Jared Yates, shirtless, barefoot, and wearing only a pair of trousers with the top button undone, stood framed in the doorway. Curling light hairs covered his chest with the thickest swatch smack-dab between his pectorals and tapering down to a line that disappeared into his waistband. Mac had no trouble recalling what lay at the end of that line, hidden now by wool trousers. His biceps looked as though he spent most of his time in a gym, but Mac knew they were authentic, formed by bona fide labor.
The epitome of temptation grabbed her arm and yanked her into his room, closing the door swiftly but quietly behind him. He took hold of her upper arms and his blue eyes blazed above ruddy cheeks.
“What the devil are you doing?” he demanded.
Mac wanted to reply, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. The room had seemed bigger and the bed smaller yesterday. Now, the bed loomed close, inviting her and Jared . . .
“Mac, are you all right? You don’t look very well.”
Jared’s voice changed to concern, though there was still a large measure of impatience mixed with it.
“I, uh, I’m fine,” she managed to stammer out. Her fingers curled around his muscled forearms, which were rock solid. Like the rest of him.
“What’re you doing here?”
Mac tried to think past the lust that had tossed all coherent thoughts out the window. Her nose tingled with the overpowering scent of shaving soap and the underlying trace of male sweat. Leaving her brain behind, she swayed toward him, and her nipples brushed his chest.
“First contact,” she murmured.
Jared groaned and the vibrations went straight to Mac’s belly to mix with the undulating pool of liquid heat. The ripples moved outward and downward until Mac had to press her thighs together, which only heightened her excitement.
“If your goal is to torture me, it’s working,” Jared muttered.
He swooped down to capture her lips with bruising intensity. His cheeks were freshly shaven, and Mac lost herself in the cool satin against her skin and the kiss that depleted any remaining brain cells.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself into him, wanting—needing—to feel his hard angles. He complied with a growl that twisted the coiled tension in her belly even tighter. He nibbled at her earlobe and moved down her neck, leaving teeth marks in his wake. Mac’s knees buckled, but Jared caught her and carried her to his bed—his really big bed.
Some sane part of Mac laughed at her loss of control, but she didn’t give a damn, not when Adonis was doing his best to make her forget her name. She tilted her head back, giving him full access to her neck. He continued to nuzzle her as she felt his fingers undo the buttons on her dress. Cool air heralded his success and she squirmed until the garment was removed from her arms and slipped down to her waist. Jared left her neck to trail a line of damp kisses to her breasts. He pulled a camisole-covered nipple into his mouth.
“Jared,” Mac whimpered, unable to articulate anything more.
Her hands abandoned the back of his neck and slipped between their bodies. Jared shifted enough that she could find the buttons on his pants, and after a few moments of frantic frustration, she managed to release them. Slipping her fingers inside the front of his pants, she encountered the coarse hair surrounding his arousal and she couldn’t help but grin—no underwear.
“Were you expecting me?” she murmured.
“Mmmhmmmm,” came Jared’s reply, muffled by one of her nipples in his mouth.
Mac ran a fingertip up and down the silky smooth skin that covered his erection. “Ahh, Jared,” she said huskily.
The musky scent of him invaded her senses and her breathing grew more ragged. She traced a line of kisses across Jared’s brow, but it wasn’t enough. Her body was growing taut, spiraling upward in anticipation of the release that was coming too quickly.
She wanted to make it last. Had to make it last. She wanted to taste him as he’d tasted her.
“Roll over,” she said, barely recognizing the hoarse voice as her own.
Jared raised his head and gazed at her with heavy-lidded sexy eyes. “What?”
She gave him a push that sent him rolling off her to settle on his back. Mac scrambled to her knees as quickly as her voluminous clothes allowed. For a moment, she could only stare at his perfect body. Broad shoulders, curling chest hairs over red-flushed skin, lungs pumping up and down with shallow rapid motions, trim waist, and a penis that remained undaunted by her perusal. She gave in to the urge to touch him and his erection jerked in her palm. She leaned close and kissed the tip tenderly.
Jared groaned and buried his hands within her hair, as if to both hold her still and make her continue. Her own body was ready with slick heat and constant pulsing, but she was determined to give Jared back what he had given her two nights ago. She reveled in the taste and feel of his hard length.
Jared clutched her hair almost painfully. “Oh God, what’re you doing?”
She swept her tongue up and down his arousal. Jared’s breathing became little pants and Mac released him. She wanted to feel him within her.
She paused momentarily, remembering the lack of a condom or any other kind of birth control. But if she hadn’t gotten pregnant their first time together, she doubted if she would now this late in her cycle. Besides, her body wasn’t going to accept no for an answer. It craved a repeat of two nights ago, the indescribable high followed by boneless satisfaction.
Tossing caution aside, Mac lifted her skirts and threw a leg over Jared to straddle his waist. His hands immediately settled on her thighs, kneading her skin gently.
“What—?” Jared began.
Mac leaned down to silence him with her lips and eased his mouth open with her tongue. While their tongues intertwined, Mac raised her hips and shifted back until her damp folds settled over him. Slowly, wanting to enjoy each incredible inch, Mac lowered herself onto him. Jared’s groan was silenced by their fused mouths, but Mac could feel it all the way down to where their bodies were intimately joined.
She flexed her inner muscles, watching Jared’s eyes widen in surprise. He jerked within her and she inhaled sharply, almost losing her hard-fought control. She raised herself, feeling the slow withdrawal of Jared’s length, but stopped before she lost him completely; then she moved her body downward, swallowing him once more.
Jared clutched her hips, his fingers digging into her skin, but it only increased Mac’s pleasure as he guided her body up and down. She ended their kiss and sat up, feeling him move even deeper within her.
“Jared,” she cried with a groan.
“Oh, Mac, you’re so hot, so wet,” Jared whispered hoarsely. “So damned beautiful.”
The movement of Jared within her and against her sensitive flesh, as well as his murmured endearments, brought her close to the edge. She wanted to let go, to dissolve in a million pieces, but the desire to see Jared lose himself first stopped her. She stared at the wall behind the bed and tried to count the number of roses in the floral wallpaper to postpone her orgasm. Biting her lower lip, she didn’t know how much longer she could delay the inevitable.
Mac knew the moment Jared began to lose control and her gaze darted back to his face, which twisted into ecstasy. His strong hands held Mac still as he raised and lowered his own hips. With a loud groan, he emptied himself deep within her. The flood of slippery warmth and the look on Jared’s face sent Mac over the edge, her voice joining with his in a chorus of moans and gasps.
The explosion receded, and Mac’s muscles experienced meltdown. She fell forward onto Jared’s chest and buried her face in the damp curve of his neck and shoulder. The feel and smell of him brought with it the overpowering illusion of security and comfort. And another emotion Mac refused to examine.
“Jeezus, Mac, if you’re trying to kill me, you damn near succeeded,” Jared said, a teasing note in his voice.
“If I were trying to kill you, I’d come up with a more creative method, like shooting you or something,” Mac retorted.
Jared’s arms slipped around Mac’s waist and he held her snugly against him. He kissed her forehead. “That sounds more like the Mac I know.”
And love.
Mac’s mind supplied the added words and she scoffed at the absurdity. Jared loved her as much as she loved him, which meant there wasn’t any love involved here. Just some good old-fashioned debauchery, which was the way Mac liked it.
They lay quietly with their legs entwined, ignoring the rest of the world. Some minutes later, a crow’s caw startled Mac back to awareness. She didn’t want to peel herself from Jared’s body, but she had no choice. Today was her last day at the Chesterfield and there were things she had to do to prepare.
She began to ease upward, but Jared’s embrace tightened.
“I’m not letting you go until we talk,” Jared said, his low voice rumbling through Mac.
“We have nothing to talk about.” Mac struggled to escape her human bonds, but he didn’t release her.
“Why did you come to my room?” Jared asked.
“To clean your plumbing?” She waggled her eyebrows.
Jared playfully swatted her backside. “Why?”
Mac took a deep breath and dropped her forehead to his shoulder and muttered, “TheMajorfiredme.”
He frowned and thought for a moment. “Did you say the Major fired you?”
“Actually, I said the Major fired me.”
Jared lifted Mac off him and sat her down with her back against the headboard. After buttoning his trousers hastily, he joined her.
“The Major fired you so you came to my room to, well, to do this one last time?”
Mac rubbed her brow where a headache had decided to set up shop. She hoped it wasn’t another migraine. “No offense, big guy, but I didn’t have this in mind on my way here.”
Confusion darkened Jared’s crystal eyes. “Then why?”
“What was I supposed to do when you answered the door looking like”—she motioned to his body— “that?”
At first, he appeared disconcerted, then he smiled crookedly. “So what you’re saying is you couldn’t resist me?”
Mac flounced off the bed and whirled around to face him, hands planted on her hips. “Why do I even bother? I swear, every single male ever created thinks the universe revolves around him.”
Jared shifted off the bed and stood. “You’re the one who came to my room and practically attacked me.”
“Like you didn’t enjoy it.”
“I didn’t say that. I was just shocked.” He stared at her, his perceptive gaze making her nervous. “You were fired. What are you going to do now?”
Mac deflated like a punctured balloon. “I’m going to try to get a job at the newspaper office in Hope Springs. The Major said he’d put in a good word for me.”
“And if you don’t get it?”
Her backbone snapped back into place. “How should I know?”
“Can’t you sell some freelance stories or something?”
“Not when I don’t have any written, and now I don’t even have a place to write them.”
Jared dragged a hand through his tousled hair, and Mac’s attention was riveted to the rippling muscles in his shoulder and arm. When did she suddenly start noticing rippling muscles?
The moment I spotted Jared Yates.
Mac punted that notion out before it could score a field goal. “I just came up here to tell you I was leaving tomorrow,” she lied. How could she demand money after what they had just done? She would feel too much like a prostitute. But worse, Jared might think that was why she had jumped his bones. “So I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”
She turned to leave, but Jared caught her wrist and pulled her back.
“Just like that?” he demanded, his face only inches from hers.
Mac’s heart threatened to leap out of her chest even as her hormones stood up and took notice. Again.
Shit.
“Look, we had some great sex, but that’s all it was. You don’t owe me a ring and I don’t owe you a commitment. We’re both adults and we each have our own lives to live. Let it go at that, Jared.” Mac was surprised her voice remained so steady.
“What if I want to see you again?”
“For a quick romp in the sheets?”
Jared’s face flushed a deep red. “We don’t have to unless you want to.”
The way her body was homing in on Jared’s told Mac she would want to again, but she couldn’t risk losing control. She’d lost control two more times than she should have already. “We do need to keep in touch, but strictly to work on catching the murderer.”
Jared nodded without hesitation. “Exactly. I’ll let you know if I turn up anything, and I’ll expect you to do the same.”
“If I get that job at the paper, I’ll have more of a pulse on the town and the people around here. Maybe something will turn up.” Mac was pleased with her logical excuse to see him again.
They remained standing close, their bodies nearly touching as their breath mingled. A muffled voice in the hallway startled them out of their reverie and each took a step back.
“I’d better go and pack,” Mac said.
Jared, still clad in only his trousers, nodded. “I suppose. When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’ll catch the first train into town.”
“That’s at eight o’clock. I’ll meet you in the lobby at seven-thirty and walk you down.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Jared said softly.
Mac wanted to lose herself in the tenderness of his eyes, but the risk was too great. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She wrapped her hand around the doorknob, but a larger hand came down upon hers as Jared’s too-sexy chest pressed against her back. “What is it now?” she demanded impatiently.
His eyes twinkled. “You might want to fix your clothing.”
Mac glanced down to see the top half of her maid’s uniform hanging from her waist and her nipples peaking against the damp rings on her camisole. Her face flaming, she tugged the dress up, surprised when Jared helped her. With shaking fingers, she buttoned the bodice.
“Better?” she asked sharply.
Jared shook his head and smiled languidly, sending little spokes of desire spinning through her. “I liked it better the other way, but the other guests might not approve.”
Mac rolled her eyes and after a quick check of her appearance, she left temptation behind. She hurried through the hallways and took the back stairs. Once safely ensconced in her room, she leaned against the door and tilted her head back.
The combined scents of their lovemaking rose to tickle her nose. She’d never lost control like that before and the feeling left her both frightened and fascinated.
Just as Jared Yates both frightened and fascinated her.