“That, my friend, is an understatement. But I wouldn’t change anything for the world.”
“That’s great. And I really appreciate you letting me stay here. I wouldn’t have imposed, but I had to get away someplace where no one would find me. And I have to admit, the whole paternity thing put me in mind of you.”
“No problem.”
“I just hope my family, or the press, for that matter, doesn’t find me before it’s obvious that Stephanie isn’t pregnant.”
“Your family believes her?”
“I doubt it. But they see this as an opportunity. And that’s one thing a MacDougal can never pass up.”
Harrison made a noise in the back of his throat. “That’s the truth, if you’re any indication. Talk about the perfect predisposition for a corporate raider.”
Mac shrugged. “I suppose it’s the same spirit that moved my ancestors to relieve the British of all that burdensome loot on the way to resettling the clan in America.”
“It was probably rightly theirs, anyhow.”
“My, but you have turned into the romantic, haven’t you?”
Harrison’s eyes focused on something behind Mac, and he said on a sigh, “You have no idea.”
A husky, feminine voice said, “Ashley told me we have a guest.”
Mac turned and met the smiling, rich brown gaze of a very pretty woman with long, light brown hair. A towheaded little boy propped on her slim hip gave him a curious stare. Mac knew immediately who they were. Between her looks and the kid being the spitting image of his father, it was no wonder Harrison was so proud.
The ache didn’t bother to creep this time. It jumped straight on his neck and tried to choke him.
Mac rose to greet them as Harrison made the introductions around the last of his scrambled eggs. “Juliet, this is Mac. Mac, this is my better half, Juliet Rivers.”
She smiled, transforming herself from pretty to flatout beautiful. “Now, I don’t know what they teach at Harvard, but I’ve learned at community college that one plus one equals two, Harrison.”
Mac liked her instantly. “And this little guy doesn’t need an introduction. Hi, Nathan.”
Rather than getting all shy as Mac expected him to, Nathan smiled a toothy smile and pointed at Mac’s shirt. “Dirt.”
Juliet laughed. “Oh, you two will get along just fine. I’m so sorry that Harrison booked our trip the same time as your visit. Usually Ashley keeps him from slipping up like this.”
Mac came to his friend’s defense. “It’s not Harrison’s fault.” Unsure of what Juliet knew of his situation, Mac said tentatively, “Besides, since I’m here to help with the mill…” He drifted off when Juliet raised a curious brow.
Mac looked to Harrison, who shook his head. “Sorry, bud. She knows.” To Juliet he said in a low voice, “We’re saying Mac is an Environmental Specialist come to help me out at Dover Creek.”
“Why all the Mission Impossible rigmarole?” she asked.
Mac cleared his throat. “I’d rather as few people as possible know the truth.”
Her shrug said whatever. “As few being…?”
“Just you and Harrison.”
She glanced at her husband. “Dorothy?”
Harrison looked to Mac, but he shook his head, still certain the fewer who knew, the better. Besides, it’d be that much less grief he’d have to suffer from those who might think his family was right.
Harrison sighed. “As far as I can remember, Grandmother has never met Mac, and she has no reason to know who he is or why he’d be here.”
Juliet’s eyebrows went higher. “And Ashley?”
Mac vigorously shook his head.
Harrison concurred. “Definitely not Ashley. You know how she feels about duty to family.”
Juliet smirked. “You’ve got a point, there.” She set Nathan in a booster chair fastened to one of the seats.
The two-year-old immediately started banging on the table with his fat little hands and chanting, “Dirt, dirt, dirt.”
Mac looked away.
Juliet said, “Okay, whatever you boys want to say is fine. I’ll just keep my yap shut.”
Mac blew out a relieved breath, wishing again that he’d thought things through a hell of a lot more. “Thanks, Juliet. I appreciate your help.”
“Is there anything I can help with?” Ashley offered as she came through the kitchen, a ringing cell phone in her hand.
With stricken expressions, all three of them hurried to assure her there wasn’t.
Ashley held the phone toward Mac. “Your bike was ringing.”
“Uh, thanks.” He glanced at the caller ID and fought a groan. This was his business phone and only his executive assistant, Bishop, was supposed to have the number. Damn it, had they gotten to him, also?
Knowing that simply turning the phone off as he was inclined to do would raise Ashley’s suspicions, he excused himself.
By all that was tartan, he prayed that Ashley’s rigid sense of propriety, the same sense that would keep her from being more than a distraction to him while he was there, had kept her from checking the display, also.
M. MACDOUG. Ashley tapped a French manicured nail against her teeth and tried to pinpoint the stirrings of recognition the name on Mr. Wild’s cell phone caller ID generated. She hadn’t purposefully looked at the display, but always checking her own before answering had created a habit.
Mac distracted her from her mental run through her Rolodex by heading toward the nearest door—the one leading to the wine cellar—his phone still ringing in his hand. She watched until he disappeared through the door, closing it tight behind him. She looked at Harrison and Juliet to gauge their reactions to Mac’s odd behavior.
Harrison shrugged and took a swig of his coffee.
Juliet grinned and quipped, “That cellar’s good for all sorts of things.”
Harrison choked on his coffee. He quickly set his cup down and grabbed his wife to pull her in his lap and whisper something in her ear. Blaming the tugging sensation deep in her chest on her happiness for her brother’s state of wedded bliss, Ashley rolled her eyes at their antics and went to the refrigerator to grab a muffin. Thanks to their unexpected guest, her schedule no longer held time for her usual breakfast of granola, yogurt and half a grapefruit.
Marie rounded the island toward her. “Can I get you your breakfast, now?”
Ashley waved her off. “That’s all right, Marie, I’ll get it.”
The refrigerator door blocked her view, so she only heard Mac emerge from the cellar.
He grumbled something to the effect of, “Family, what a pain in the—” then broke off when he caught sight of her stepping back from the fridge to close the door.
Her curiosity running rampant, she offered, “Is there something I can be of assistance with, Mr. Wild?”
“Mac,” he corrected absently as he shook his head in answer to her question. “No. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
She was seized by the strangest need to show off with something she was very good at and to ease the troubled look in his golden-brown eyes. “Harrison and Juliet will vouch for my ability and willingness to handle most any situation,” she pressed.
Harrison made a noise that sounded