I must have overdone it; the next thing I knew, Linda was standing outside my office, closing the door.
"Having you over gave me a good excuse to turn on the oven," Leanne said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm still dining on the leftovers. This recipe freezes well. I should've sent some home with you."
"That wasn't necessary." I could feel how red my face was. In my awkward attempt to send a message to Macy, I'd embarrassed myself in front of my entire staff. I'd also taken advantage of Leanne's friendship. I was ashamed of myself and wanted to blame Macy; however, I was the one at fault and I knew it.
Fifteen minutes later I stepped out of the office ready to meet my first patient of the afternoon. Linda handed over the file and stared at me accusingly.
I met her look straight on. "You have something you want to say?" I asked.
"Macy left."
I glanced behind her and noticed that the wall was only about a quarter finished. "And your point is?"
"My point is," she said stiffly, "she got your message."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Pride wouldn't let me own up to my poorly disguised scheme.
Linda didn't answer. She scowled at me and shook her head. I wasn't having a good day and being rebuked by someone I respected made me feel worse than ever.
I was still astonished by how completely Macy had won over Linda--and not just Linda, either. There was everyone on my staff and the security guard, and Ritchie championed her, too. The woman appeared to have magical powers. Which was fitting, I thought wryly, considering her fairy-tale house.
Okay, fine, Macy was a good person. I'd agree with that. Hannah might've believed Macy would make me laugh, but my dear wife hadn't realized how utterly mismatched Macy and I were.
The kiss was a fluke and wouldn't be repeated. That was the end of that. Leanne and I would go to dinner and I'd make an effort to get to know her. Based on how this evening went, I might even ask her to attend the awards banquet with me two weeks from now.
Chapter Twenty-Five
M acy would've left Michael's office early that afternoon, anyway. She'd been contracted to record another radio ad at two o'clock. This one was for a big charity event to be held in July. The producer said her voice was pleasant and engaging, and the more commercials she read, the more familiar she'd become to the listening audience. According to him, a recognizable voice evoked a sense of trust.
The money wouldn't buy her a vacation home in the San Juan Islands, but it was decent. The only reason Macy had stayed at Michael's office for lunch was that she enjoyed his staff.
She left the office at precisely 12:55 p.m. and went to retrieve her bike. Larry, the guy in security, had promised to keep an eye on it for her. The middle-aged retired military man was a sweetheart. She didn't understand why almost everyone seemed so wary of him. The guy had a big heart and he loved cats.
"You ready for your bike, Macy?" Larry asked as she approached his desk.
"Please, and again, thanks so much."
"No problem. Anytime you need me to look after something, you let me know. I'll lock it up, and it'll be safer than inside Fort Knox."
Despite feeling so dispirited, she managed a smile. She followed Larry into the basement. He'd confided in her that after retiring from the air force, he'd taken the security job to help his youngest daughter with college expenses.
"He doesn't like me."
"Who, Macy?"
"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize I'd spoken out loud. I do that sometimes." Living with cats, Macy habitually verbalized her thoughts and often without being aware of it. "I guess I'm not his type. After Hannah and all."
"Did you say something?"
"No, no, sorry, it's nothing." Except that it bothered her, especially after the way Michael had kissed her. She just wasn't good with romantic relationships. They hadn't worked out before, so her expectations weren't high when it came to Michael, either. That kiss, though... A single kiss and it'd been so exciting. So exquisite.
For hours afterward she'd walked around in a daze. It was as though she was fourteen all over again, when Tommy Whittier had kissed her for the first time. The only time, actually. She'd loved Tommy with all the passion in her teenage heart. His kiss had stayed with her all these years and now...now Michael's kiss was the first to match that incredible sensation. Why, oh, why did it have to be him?
Larry got her bicycle and, after securing her helmet, she was off to the recording studio. As she hit the Seattle streets, her mind spun as fast as the wheels of her bike.
Michael couldn't have been any more obvious about his feelings if he'd rented a billboard. He wasn't interested. She'd heard his phone conversation loud and clear, just like he'd intended. He wanted her to know he had another date with the woman called Leanne. Even the sound of her name was elegant and refined. Macy had gotten her own name when her mother went into labor while shopping. She supposed she should be grateful it hadn't happened at Neiman Marcus. Macy would admit she was neither sophisticated nor stylish. She'd never fit in with his friends.
That kiss, though, had surprised her. Michael's reaction told her he'd been equally taken aback. He wanted her to know it had been an accident, and that he regretted it.
She didn't.
Macy didn't realize how upset she was until she arrived at the recording studio and had no recollection of getting there. She'd pedaled through maybe a dozen streets, and the entire time she'd thought of Michael.
Fine, she decided. He didn't have to tell her twice. She'd do everything within her power to stay out of his way. He wouldn't even know she was there. As quickly as possible she'd finish--yes, finish--that darn mural and that would be it. They need never see each other again.
The recording session didn't go as well as the previous one and Macy had to read the commercial twice as often as any of her other bookings.
The producer wasn't pleased. On her way out the door, he patted her shoulder and reassured her that everyone had an off day now and then. He followed that by letting her know he wouldn't be as forgiving the next time.
Wonderful.
She might lose the best-paying job she'd found to date and all because of Dr. Michael Everett.
Macy climbed on her bike, grateful she could just go home. She hadn't talked to Harvey since Wednesday. He'd been avoiding her and she was going to put an end to that. Now more than ever, Macy was determined to persuade him not to give up on life. He was the only family she had in the area, since her parents had retired to New Mexico and her brother lived in Hawaii. Okay, so Harvey wasn't actual family; it just felt as though he was. He'd squirm and fuss if she ever told him, but he was grandfather and friend in one, and she loved him.
Macy was less than a mile from the house when it happened, although she wasn't quite sure how. What she remembered later was that one moment she was on her bicycle, and the next she was jolted from behind. Before she had time to react or even brace herself, she went flying over the handlebars.
She landed hard on the asphalt and must have blacked out for a second. When she came to, she heard the sound of screeching brakes and loud voices. A man was bending over her and yelling for someone to call 9-1-1.
From then on, all she felt was pain. White-hot pain in her head, her arms, her legs. A group of people gathered around her and everyone seemed to be giving her advice.
"Don't move until the aid car gets here."
"Take deep breaths."
"Don't close your eyes."
Macy tried to do what everyone asked, but it was impossible.
A siren wailed in the distance. Then two men arrived and a blood-pressure cuff was slapped on her upper arm. Her neck was secured in a brace and she was being lifted. When she glanced down, she saw her bicycle helmet lying on the ground. It looked as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.
The paramedic seemed busy, but she had an important question and grabbed his sleeve, holding on until he turned to her.
"Yes?" he said. He seemed annoyed that she'd interrupted his work.
"Is that my blood on the pavement?" She'd always been a little squeamish about the sight of blood.
He nodded.
"Is my bike in any better shape than the helmet?" That bike had cost more than she could really afford and she'd hate to lose it.
"Afraid not. Listen, I'd rather you didn't talk."
"Okay." She closed her eyes. The pain was bad. She wasn't kidding herself about that. She could deal with it more easily when she didn't have to look at anything or anyone. Instead, she concentrated on taking one breath at a time.
The paramedic asked questions, which she did her best to answer. The aid-car siren screamed as it wove in and out of traffic. The next thing Macy knew, they were at the hospital and everything started again.
She was examined by a doctor, who ordered a battery of tests. Macy was wheeled into X-ray, then taken for an MRI. They stitched her up and she had bandages on her head, her knees and her arms. There wasn't a single spot on her entire body that didn't throb with pain, despite the medication.
Everything hurt, up to and including her eyelids. People stood around her and spoke, acting like she wasn't even in the room. They were all saying how fortunate she was. From where she was lying, with her head pounding as though someone had put it in a vise, she didn't feel too fortunate.
A familiar voice joined the others. Certain she must be hearing wrong, Macy forced her eyes open and looked up.
"Michael?" she whispered, shocked to see him.
Without answering, he took her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. His hold was tight and yet his touch was the most comforting one she'd received.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. How could he have known she'd been in an accident?
"You gave them my name," he told her.
"I...couldn't have. I did?"
"It's all right. I came as soon as the hospital phoned." He stroked her head. "I'll be back after I speak with the attending physician. Will you be okay?"
She nodded, stunned that she didn't remember mentioning Michael's name. The paramedics had asked so many questions; she seemed to recall that, among other things, they'd asked who they should contact on her behalf. Had she really said Michael?
She was mortified to realize that of all the people in the world she'd given them Michael's name. Perhaps she'd said he was her physician. That was it.
Maybe.
The reality of time escaped her; he could have been away two hours or fifteen minutes. When he returned, she stared up at him, hardly knowing what to say. She felt dreadful that she'd taken him from the office.
"Were you just here or was that a long time ago?" she asked him.
"About five minutes."
"Oh. It must be the pain."
"Probably. But the Tylenol should kick in soon."
"Can I get out of here? Someone needs to feed the cats, and then there's Sammy. Harvey depends on me to feed him. Sammy's fifty percent Harvey's dog but he--I mean Harvey--refuses to admit it. So Sammy comes to visit and stays for dinner every night." She paused. "He usually eats on the porch. Because of the cats."
"I'm taking you home."
Macy felt tears in her eyes, so grateful that she was close to dissolving with emotion. "I'm s-sorry to trouble you."