Vision in White

She could stay like this, exactly like this, for hours. Days. All sleepy and warm and tangled up with the delicious Carter Maguire. And in the morning, they could . . .

Her eyes flashed open. What was she thinking? What was she

doing? The morning? Hours and days? The quick kick of panic had her jolting upright.

“What’s wrong?”

“What? Oh, nothing. Nothing. What could be wrong?”

He sat up with her, all kinds of rumpled and sexy until her heart and hormones threatened rampage.

She had to get out. Get out now. Back to reality. Back to sanity before she did something stupid like fall in love.

“I just . . . God, look at the time! I have to go.”

“Go? But—”

“This was great. Everything . . . really great.” Jesus, Jesus, she was wearing nothing but boots. “I really lost track of the time. It’s late.”

Obviously baffled, he looked at the clock. “Not especially. Don’t—”

“School night,” she said, trying desperately to keep it light while she hunted for her underwear and panic galloped inside her like wild mustangs.

Where was her bra, where was her bra?

The hell with the bra.

“I’ve got a million things left to do. I have to get started really early tomorrow.”

“I’ll set the alarm. I’m up by six anyway. Stay, Mackensie.”

“I really wish I could. Really.” How many times could she say

really in five minutes? She was about to beat the standing record. “But, well, duty calls. No, don’t get up.”

Please, please don’t get up, she thought as he got out of bed.

“Stay,” he said, and touched her cheek as she dragged on her shirt. “I want to sleep with you.”

“We checked that one off the list, big-time.” She added a big, bright smile.

“Sleep.”

“Oh, that’s really sweet, Carter. I’d love that—another time.

Three events, presentation. Busy, busy.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Gotta run. Thanks for everything. I’ll call you.”

And fled.

OH, SHE WAS A TERRIBLE PERSON. A CRAZY PERSON, MAC thought as she drove home. She was probably going to hell, too. She deserved it. But she’d done the right thing, the only thing. For herself, and for Carter.

Absolutely for Carter, she told herself.

Going to hell? Ridiculous. She should get a medal—they should erect a damn statue for her, for doing the right thing.

She’d done the right thing, and that was all there was to it. Now everything would be fine. Everything would be okay.

Perfect, in fact.

She saw the lights on in the main house and thought: Thank God. Parker and Laurel would agree with her. They’d support her actions. That’s what she needed, she decided as she squealed to a stop in front of the house. Just a little affirmation from friends so her stomach would untwist.

She rushed into the house, tore up the stairs, shouting for Parker.

“We’re all up here.” Parker came into the hallway. “God, what’s the matter? Was there an accident?”

“No, it was all on purpose. Or maybe not. There was a list.”

“Okay. You’re obviously not hurt. We’re in my parlor, just going over some last details since we were all up.”

“Emma, too?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, good, that’s even better.”

She dashed by Parker and into the parlor where Laurel and Emma sat with cookies, tea, and files.

“Hey. We figured you for the walk of shame in the morning.” Laurel tossed down a pencil. “We were thinking of setting up a video camera.”

“How was dinner?” Emma asked her.

“I left. I just left.” Eyes a little wild, Mac dragged off her coat. “You’d have done the same.”

“That good, huh?” Laurel picked up the plate. “So, have a cookie.”

“No, no. He had a rehearsal on Tuesday. Can you imagine that? And tonight this wonderful meal with candles and wine reductions.”

“Wine reductions.” With a little hum, Parker took a seat. “Thank God you got out alive. We should call the police.”

“Okay, wait, you’re not seeing the whole picture.” Trying to steady herself, Mac took a few careful breaths. It didn’t seem to help. “He went to so much trouble, and it was, well, lovely. And fun. Bob made a list.”

“Who the hell is Bob?” Laurel demanded.

“Doesn’t matter, but Carter was so embarrassed. It’s so cute. The tips of his ears blush.”

“Aww,” Emma said.

“I

know. What can you do? I’m all stirred up. I had to go to bed with him.”

“I know when a guy’s ears blush, I start tearing my clothes off.” Since Mac didn’t appear to want one, Laurel helped herself to another cookie. “So you had sex.”

“We didn’t have sex. We had the most amazing, world-bending, melt-your-brain-cells sex in the history of the planet.”

“Now it’s getting interesting.” Crossing her legs, Parker settled in. “Would that be tender, soft-focus, angels-weeping sex, or jungle-drums, swinging-from-the-chandelier sex?”

“It was . . . No one’s ever made me feel that way, or felt that way about me.” She sat on the arm of Parker’s chair, staring into the fire as she tried to find the words. “It’s like knowing you’re the focus, the only thing he sees. Nothing else but you. And it’s tender and hot, it’s terrifying and amazing. There’s this person who doesn’t see anyone but you. When he touches you, there’s no one but him.”