Later that evening in her room, Mac shook her head at Esme Sparrow. “I can’t accept all these clothes.”
“Nonsense,” Esme said with a wave of her hand. “You have no clothing other than those inappropriate trousers from your time. That dress and the skirts are too long for me. If you take them, it will save me spending my evenings sewing.”
“Right,” Mac said, meaning she didn’t believe a word of Miss Sparrow’s rationale. “So what about the cape and shoes and underwear?” she asked, motioning toward the items scattered across the bed.
“Consider them Christmas presents from your cousin.”
Mac skimmed her hand along the forest green dress that hugged her curves as if made for her and shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault I was fired. You don’t have to feel obligated to give me this stuff.”
Miss Sparrow sighed and dropped to the edge of Mac’s bed. She plucked at a loose thread on the quilt. “On the contrary, Trish, I do take a certain amount of responsibility for your discharge. I should have stressed more firmly the importance of obeying the rules of this time period.” She lifted her gaze. “Yet I understand you cannot be who you are not.”
Jared’s question drifted back to Mac: Who are you? Mac plopped down beside the woman. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Esme shook her head and clasped Mac’s clenched hands. “Come, come, Trish. You are one of the most strong-willed women I have ever had the pleasure to meet.”
Mac tried to stifle a snort and failed. “Pleasure? We both know my short stay here could hardly be called pleasant for either of us.”
“Perhaps not, but you have done well for being thrust into a strange world without benefit of friends and family.”
Mac eased her hands away from Esme’s, suddenly uncomfortable with the contact. She had grown too close too quickly to these people, especially Jared. Standing, she put more distance between herself and Esme. “The truth is I didn’t have many friends in my own time. It was always hard for me to get close to anyone.” She shrugged. “You let someone in and they’re bound to hurt you, simple as that.”
Esme didn’t appear surprised by Mac’s admission. “What of your family?”
“I have no one but my father, and he barely knows I exist.” Again, the sharp talon of betrayal drew blood. Mac massaged her brow and barked a weak laugh. “My one goal in life is to best him at his own game.”
“And after you do?”
The softly spoken question startled Mac. “What do you mean?”
“After you’ve bested him, what then will you do with your life?” Esme asked patiently.
“I—I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Perhaps you should ponder it with the time you have remaining here.”
“I don’t have time to ponder that little mystery of life,” Mac said, her uncertainty making her snappish. “I have to find a job.”
“What of a position at the Hope Springs Times?”
“Who says the editor will hire a woman?”
“He will,” Esme assured with the same maddening calm. “Both the Major and I have already given him glowing recommendations.”
Mac couldn’t understand why two people who hardly knew her would do that. “Does the Major know I’m from the future, too?”
Esme was obviously startled by the question. “No. I am the only one aware of your, shall we say, travels?”
Mac nodded, relieved. “You said I could return to my own time at the next solstice if I complete some mysterious task, right?”
“That is correct.” Esme’s gaze flickered away from her. “There is one more condition also.”
The whisper of unease in Mac graduated to a shout, but she kept her voice deceptively soft. “And that is?”
“The only clue that I can impart at this time is to ask you to remember clearly what you were doing the exact moment you were brought here.”
“What—?”
“This is something you must remember on your own.” The stubborn glint in Esme’s eyes told Mac she’d get no more information.
Mac paced with long strides, her frustration making her head pound with the rhythm of her footsteps as she tried to remember that night and what had led to her being transported across more than a century. She could recall in startling detail the murder and her blowup at Sheriff Longley, but the events after that were blurry. She had been following someone and there had been snow—a lot of snow—and she’d been forced to find shelter. She’d found the ruins of the old hot springs resort, but after that her memory was hazy.
“But I can’t remember everything.” It sounded suspiciously like a whine, but it couldn’t have been—Mac had never whined in her life.
“It will come back to you in due time,” Esme reassured her.
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with a black hole in your memory.”
With a sigh of resignation, Mac glanced about the room she’d shared with Erin. Mac had told her roommate about her dismissal earlier that evening in the dining hall. Erin had been surprisingly upset. Both she and Louise were genuinely angry at Jane for being the catalyst behind Mac’s dismissal; the fact they cared had puzzled Mac.
Esme approached her and withdrew an envelope from her skirt pocket, which she handed to Mac. “Here, my dear.”
Bewildered, Mac closed her fingers around it. “What is it?”
“The money you earned working here. It should be enough to buy a train ticket into Hope Springs as well as pay for room and board for a week.”
Mac clasped the envelope tightly. “Thank you, Esme.”
“No need to thank me. You earned it.” Esme smiled. “You will do well, Trish. You are a fighter.”
“I’ve had to be.”
Esme peered at her, her eyes seemingly too ancient for a woman only a year or two older than Mac.
“A good soldier knows when to fight and when to compromise,” Esme said quietly. Then, before Mac could back away, she hugged her. “Listen to your heart, my dear,” she whispered, then withdrew. “I shall visit you the next time I travel down to Hope Springs.”
The head housekeeper scurried down the hall, her small bustle swinging in almost businesslike precision with her determined footsteps. Mac watched until she disappeared around the corner, feeling more than a twinge of trepidation. Esme Sparrow was Mac’s lifeline to the future, the only person who understood— and she’d left her, just like everyone else in Mac’s life.
Get a grip, Mac. It’s not like she’s real family.
She mechanically removed the dress Esme had given her and hung it in the armoire. The other clothes she folded carefully and placed in the suitcase Esme had also given her.
Even though the woman wasn’t related, Esme felt more like family than anyone had since Mac’s mother died. Unexpected anguish struck Mac and her eyes filled with moisture.
She had been nine years old when their roles had been reversed: Mac had become the parent and her mother the child. For a year, her mother had lived in a world that drifted between reality and fantasy, until one day she’d just stopped breathing.
Tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks. Her mother’s death, though merciful, had thrown Mac from one foster home to another.
Through moisture-laden eyes, she turned in a slow circle as she contemplated her room. It was just one more in a long line of rooms she’d lived in—one she’d lived in for far less time than many others. So why did she feel so terrible leaving it behind?
Mac sucked in a shaky breath and rubbed away her tears. This wasn’t her home and these people were nothing more than ships passing in the night.
Oh God, I’ve sunk to using bad clichés.
“Pull yourself together, Mac. Think of this as the adventure of a lifetime,” she said aloud, then grinned crookedly. “Complete with a dashing hero.”
Thinking about the Pinkerton detective, Mac’s momentary despair faded. He would be here in the morning to walk her down to the depot. Her excitement in seeing him again had nothing to do with the little flutter in her heart.
Nothing at all.
Jared’s stomach was tied in knots as he strode down the hall to Mac’s room. He’d hardly slept the night before as he’d tossed and turned in the same bed where Mac had boldly made love to him. The frustration his memories had evoked had made sleep impossible.
He paused in front of Mac’s door, suddenly uncertain. What did he say to a woman who had thrown his world off balance? He shouldn’t have told her he’d escort her to the train depot. No, he wanted to see her again. The problem was he wanted to see a lot more of her.
He tried to find something to think about to make the blood retreat from his groin. Cold waterfalls . . . with Mac standing under the falling water, naked and beckoning. His breath caught in his throat.
Okay, that wasn’t going to work.
He searched for something else to waylay his thoughts. What about the telegram he’d received that morning from his mother? She was nearly begging him to return home to celebrate the arrival of the new year with the family—every single one of his six sisters, their husbands and children.
His erection wilted. Completely.
Jared took a deep breath and knocked. It was answered almost immediately, and for a moment, he could only stare at Mac. Instead of a uniform, she wore a dark green dress with an ivory bodice that fitted her curves like a snug glove. His gaze rested on her breasts, remembering the taste and feel of them.
“Hello, Yates,” she said.
Her tone made it sound as if they were mere acquaintances rather than lovers. Obviously, she hadn’t been lying when she’d said what they had done was nothing more than sex.
All right. It wasn’t like their relationship was some kind of strange courtship. Neither one had plans to marry.
“Good morning, Mac,” he said, cursing his husky undertone.
Her lips turned downward into a familiar scowl, but all Jared could see was her mouth coming down to encircle his . . .
“Morning maybe, good no,” she muttered.
He couldn’t help but smile. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed?”
She met his gaze solidly. “Maybe the wrong bed.”
So she had been thinking about it, too. “Maybe so,” he said. “I wouldn’t have thrown you out of mine.”
Mac’s eyes darkened. “I know.”
How did she manage to turn around and fluster him when he was trying to fluster her? “I’ll carry your bags down,” he said gruffly.
“I can do it. There’s only one,” she said.
Jared gritted his teeth. “I don’t mind. The fact is, I feel guilty about what happened.”
“What ‘what’ happened?”
The glint in her eyes made him want to spank her or kiss her. Maybe both. He ignored the jibe. “I tried to talk to Payne, but he wouldn’t budge. The only thing he said was that you would have no trouble finding other employment.”
“It seems he and Esme put in a good word for me at the newspaper office.”
“So they know you’re a reporter?”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I told the Major, and he must’ve told Esme. Maybe I should’ve been more discreet.”
Jared laughed at that impossibility. “You, discreet? It’ll never happen, Mac.”
She shrugged. “You’re right. Who am I kidding? I’m about as discreet as a man in a lingerie shop.”
Would you model the underclothing personally? Ignoring that mental picture and Mac seemed the better part of valor. He glanced into the room. “Let me get your bag and I’ll walk you to the depot.”
“Suit yourself.”
Electricity sparked through her veins as Jared stepped past her, brushing her breast with his arm. The pheromones were alive and kicking.
Jared picked up her suitcase and returned to the hall to wait while Mac tugged on the heavy cape Esme had given her. She picked up her backpack and closed the door behind her. A foreboding tickled her consciousness. As pragmatic as she appeared, Mac believed in fate and that whatever happened did so for a reason. If destiny brought her here, there was a reason for it. She just had to find it.
“Are you all right?” Jared asked gently.
Why did he have to spoil their casual relationship by being so solicitous? “Just dandy for someone who got fired from her job, kicked out of her home, and can’t continue her story investigation because she doesn’t have any money.”
Mac expected him to get angry, but he didn’t. Instead, he brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek in a light caress.
“I’m sorry, Mac,” he said. “If there was any way I could make things right, I’d do it. You know that, don’t you?” His clear blue eyes held her spellbound.
She nodded as she swayed toward him, intent only on kissing those sensuous lips. Needing to taste and feel them one more time.
Jared suddenly stepped back. “We’d better go or we’ll be late.”
Mac lowered her gaze to hide her humiliation.
Where did that sudden urge to jump his bones come from? If Jared had accepted her unspoken invitation, they would be doing it like bunnies again, only this time it would be on the hallway floor.
“All right.” She was proud that her voice didn’t waver.
Their footsteps thudded dully on the carpeted floor as Mac followed Jared. She tried to keep her attention off his backside, but her eyes seemed to have an agenda all their own. Who was she to argue with them?
Once outside in the bright sunshine Mac moved up to walk beside Jared. The silence stretched into minutes, but Mac didn’t mind. It gave her time to think, to prepare her arguments for the newspaper owner. Of course, maybe Esme and the Major’s recommendations would be enough to land her the job.
“I’ll wait here while you buy your ticket,” Jared said as he stopped on the depot platform.
Mac glanced around, trying to find the ticket office. Jared placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her one hundred and eighty degrees. He pointed over her shoulder to the office.
“I knew that,” Mac muttered.
“Go,” he ordered.
“Sheesh, give a girl a break here.” She smiled though, and Jared’s eyes twinkled in response.
Hurrying over to the ticket window, Mac felt Jared’s warm gaze on her. Confusion clouded her thoughts and she pressed it aside. She didn’t have time to think about the Pinkerton or the feelings he breathed to life within her. Their brief fling was over almost before it had begun.
Mac pulled some money from her backpack and bought her ticket. She returned to Jared who was staring off into the distance.
“I have it,” Mac said when Jared didn’t acknowledge her.
“Agnes Ledson has clean rooms at a reasonable price.” He turned his head to look at Mac. “As long as you don’t mind a woman who’s half Seminole as your landlady.”
Mac frowned in bewilderment. “Why should I mind?”
Jared leaned back to scrutinize her. “Most people don’t care for persons of mixed race.”
“I’m not most people.”
A corner of his lips quirked upward. “No, you’re not, are you?” He sobered. “Tell her I sent you.”
Mac nodded. Nervousness writhed in her stomach, drying her mouth and making her sweat. This was worse than before her first interview.
“What—” Jared began.
“How—” Mac asked at the same time.
“You first,” they both spoke together, then laughed.
Jared extended his hand toward her. “Ladies first.”
“How long will you be staying at the resort?”
“Another week, maybe two. I have to follow up on some things from this last murder.”
“What things?”
Jared slipped his hands in his jacket pockets. “I’m waiting for the lists of passengers who were on all the trains that came into Hope Springs or the resort from the twenty-first to Christmas Eve. I’m also waiting for word on the train schedules from San Francisco.”
Guilt assailed Mac. The latter was a dead end. The killer didn’t come from San Francisco. She remained silent, however. He couldn’t find out she and probably the killer were from the future. She doubted the pragmatic Jared could handle such an absurd claim. To be fair, if their roles were reversed, she wouldn’t believe it either.
“If you think of anything else, I’d appreciate your letting me know,” Jared said.
“You’ll be the first.” Her heart pounded in her breast, urging her to ask him if he’d visit her. How pitiful would that sound? “What were you going to ask me?”
Jared cleared his throat nervously. “I, uh, I want you to let me know if, uh, you miss, uh, your—” He coughed. “What we did . . . ”
Comprehension dawned on Mac. Her handful of boyfriends in her time wouldn’t have even thought to ask, much less worry that they might have fathered a child. For them, it was the woman’s responsibility, not the man’s. But not Jared Yates. Responsibility was his middle name. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know one way or another,” she finally said.
“All right. Good. That’ll work.”
Mac nearly laughed at his relief that she understood without him having to actually say the “p” words—period and pregnant. The knowledge that she might have conceived should have brought panic, but it didn’t. Maybe because deep down, she knew she hadn’t. Or was there another reason, one she didn’t wish to dwell on?
The train whistled three times in preparation to leave.
“You’d better get aboard,” Jared said, guiding her toward a car with a light hand against her waist.
He handed her the small suitcase, and they stood facing each other awkwardly.
“Thanks for walking me here,” Mac said with forced lightness.
“It was my pleasure.”
“Gallant to the end.” She favored him with a cheeky grin. “Next time you’re in town, drop by the newspaper office.”
“Awfully certain of yourself, aren’t you?”
“I have to be.”
She stared at him as he stared back at her and the embers of attraction flared to life.
“Aw hell,” Mac muttered.
She dropped her suitcase and backpack and wrapped her arms around Jared’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Their lips met, mouths opened, and tongues mated. Pure unadulterated lust steamrolled through her veins. Jared was enjoying himself, too, if his lengthening arousal was any kind of measure.
About eight inches worth.
The train’s whistle blew more impatiently and Mac struggled to extricate herself from Jared’s arms and mouth. Their lips were the last to disengage.
Mac grabbed her carpetbag and backpack, then hurried aboard just as the train started moving.
“I’ll be down soon,” Jared called out.
“I’ll be there,” Mac shouted back.
She felt like the star in some romantic movie, but it didn’t stop her from waving at Jared until she could no longer see him.
Pausing just inside the train car, she looked around and déjà vu made her shiver.
Looks as though you’re right back at the beginning of the movie, Mac.