Sophie Pembroke – Marriage On The Cards: Marry Me, Mackenzie! / A Proposal Worth Millions / Heart Surgeon, Hero...Husband? (страница 20)

Dylan looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “But...that’s not what I meant.”

Ill at ease, Mackenzie tightened her arms around her body. “I’m sorry. Sometimes that old stuff creeps up out of nowhere and flies out of my mouth before I can stop it. Do you ever wish you had a rewind button on your mouth?”

“All the time.” Dylan finished the cupcake and put the box in the recycling bin. “And can we just clarify something right now? I happen to think that you’re a beautiful woman. Okay?”

“Okay.” Mackenzie nodded.

“And I really like it when you wear your hair down like that.”

“Thank you.” Mackenzie uncrossed her arms. “Do you still want to hear about the bakery?”

“Of course.”

“You remember that my mom and I used to bake cupcakes together before she died.”

Dylan nodded as she continued, “I remember her always talking about opening up a cupcake shop, but she never got the chance to do it. When I got older, making cupcakes always made me feel happy, and for some odd reason, when I work with sugar and butter, I don’t want to eat it.” Mackenzie smiled a self-effacing smile. “So, when Dad saw me floundering after high school, he offered to send me to school to get my associate’s in baking and pastry arts, which then led to a bachelor’s degree in bakery and pastry arts management.”

“And the bakery?”

“Dad’s idea. He made the initial investment, but I’m not gonna sugarcoat it...no pun intended...it’s been really tough being a single parent and running a business. After Hope’s diagnosis...” Mackenzie paused before she confessed something to Dylan that only Ray knew. “I seriously considered closing. But I have employees to think about...”

“I think you’re a really strong woman, Mackenzie. I know how hard it is to run a business.”

Mackenzie pulled a small photo album out of her tote. “I brought something for you to look at.”

“What’s that?” Dylan took the album, flipped to the first page.

Once Dylan realized it was a photo album full of Hope pictures, he slid onto a stool to get more comfortable while he looked at it.

“Look how tiny she was!” Dylan stared at Hope’s first baby picture. “‘Hope Virginia Brand, 6 pounds 4 ounces, born 3:13 a.m., August 20.ʼ”

“She was an early-morning baby.”

“How come there aren’t any pictures of you pregnant?”

“Are you kidding me? I would have killed someone if they tried to take my picture when I was pregnant! But, you know, Hope is the reason why I finally lost the weight...”

“How so?” Dylan flipped to the next page.

“After she was born, I knew that I had to get healthy. I worked really hard to lose the baby weight and then I just kept on losing. The fact that I was doing it for both of us made it easier somehow.”

“I would have liked to see you pregnant,” Dylan said. “I wish I had been able to be there when Hope was born.”

The photo album chronicled Hope’s childhood. A childhood he had missed. The little girl in these pictures was lost to him, and a feeling of loss and sadness hit him out of the blue. Dylan used his thumb and forefinger to rub unexpected tears out of his eyes and then he pinched the bridge of his nose to stop more tears from forming.

Wide-eyed, temporarily struck dumb, Mackenzie hadn’t expected this reaction from Dylan. When she had played the “photo album scene” over in her mind, she had imagined them laughing and smiling and talking about Hope. Instead, she saw grief. Not knowing what else she could do for him, Mackenzie wrapped her arms around Dylan’s shoulders. She hugged him so tightly that the muscles in her arms started to shake. He sat, like a rock, still pinching the bridge of his nose. The sorrow that Dylan felt over having missed his daughter’s life was palpable and profound. And, ultimately, she was the one to blame.

“I’m sorry,” Mackenzie repeated over and over again. “I’m so sorry.”

Dylan turned to her, reached for her and enveloped her in his arms. They clutched each other tightly, their arms entangled, their chests pressed together, their thighs touching. Without warning, Mackenzie’s own guilt, her own sorrow and her own feelings of regret overwhelmed her.

“I’m so sorry...” Her tears were absorbed by the material of his shirt.

Dylan pulled back, caught her face between his hands and shook his head.

“Mackenzie...” Dylan wiped her fresh tears away with his thumbs, still holding her face in his hands. “It’s okay.”

Their eyes locked. And Mackenzie couldn’t have looked away if she had the will to do it. Dylan’s eyes were naked, raw, unshielded windows into his soul. She continued to stare into his eyes as he moved his thumb sensually over her lower lip. Then his mouth was on hers, without pretense, without warning. Dylan’s kiss was soft, tentative, gentle, at first. Then demanding, possessive, sensual. He tasted like sugar; he slipped his tongue past her lips, pulled her body more tightly into his body. Her leg muscles turned to Jell-O; her breathing was quick and shallow. Dylan’s arm cradled her back, his fingers fanned out between her shoulders. He kissed her again and again, going a little bit further, taking a little bit more. And then it happened to her. From somewhere deep inside her, untapped and neglected, Mackenzie felt desire. Like tiny electrical shock waves sent tingling and pulsing to the core of her body. Intuitively, Mackenzie pressed her groin into Dylan’s...seeking...

The noise Dylan made in the back of his throat struck a primitive chord. And the feel of his arousal, rock hard, thick, searching...made her feel crazy inside. Out of control. She wanted to rip off her jeans, right there in the kitchen, and demand that Dylan use his body to put her out of this new, foreign, torturous misery. Mackenzie pushed back against his arm, pushed her hands against his chest. She had to put some distance between them before she let her body’s driving needs overrun her reason.

Dylan’s arms opened and they both took a step back. Chests rising and falling, desire still sparking in both of their eyes, they were silent. Stunned by what had just happened and uncertain of their next move. Mackenzie touched her fingers to her lips. She had never been kissed like that before; she thought those kind of kisses were for other women. Not her.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Mackenzie blurted out.

Dylan resisted the urge to adjust himself. “Down the hall—second door on the right.”

Mackenzie headed to the downstairs bathroom and Dylan chose to head upstairs to the third-floor master bedroom. He took the stairs two at a time; he waited until he had reached his bedroom before he gave in to the need to make the necessary adjustments.

What the hell just happened?

Mackenzie had made him nuts: the sensual curves of her womanly body. The full breasts, the roundness of her hips. The way her hair smelled, the feel of her soft lips...the taste of her...it all drove him wild. And he’d wanted to take her right there on the kitchen floor; would have taken her, if she had only given him the green light. Dylan sat down on the edge of his bed; he needed some time to cool off before he went back downstairs. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t put it past himself to try to talk Mackenzie out of her pants and into his bed.

Mackenzie darted into the bathroom and locked the door.

What just happened?

She was shaking, not from being cold, not from fear...from lust...desire...passion. The most sensitive part of her body, between her thighs, was throbbing, for God’s sake! She was...embarrassed. And hornier than she’d been since she was pregnant with Hope. She couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted a man; she had mentally shut down her sexuality years ago. Eventually, her body had followed. But now? Now her body was turned back on with a vengeance. And she was hot for Dylan Axel. With few good options available to her, Mackenzie sat down on the edge of the tub until she could think of a better plan. What does one do in a situation such as this?

Run for your life?

“Mackenzie?”

Dylan’s knock on the door startled her, made her jump.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!”

An unconvinced pause and then Dylan said, “Are you sure? You’ve been in there a long time...”

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

Mackenzie splashed cool water on her face, glad now that she hadn’t put on mascara. Yes, her eyes were watery, red and puffy...but at least she didn’t look like a drowned raccoon.

She pointed at her own reflection. “You are not a coward. Just go out there and deal with this head-on!”

Determined to exit stage left as soon as possible, she open the door, marched back into the kitchen and prepared to deliver her excuse.

“I hope you like zinfandel...” Dylan had uncorked a bottle of wine.

“I do.” That didn’t sound like much of an excuse.

Dylan grabbed the bottle, two glasses and a blanket.

“Let’s head down to the beach,” he said.

Dylan seemed to know exactly what she needed, exactly how she needed it. And instead of making an excuse, as per the plan, she found herself following Dylan down to the beach. When they reached a good spot on the sand, he spread out the blanket. After they were settled, Dylan poured them both a glass of wine and they touched glasses.