He looked at her for a moment. "I do. None of the rest of my family does. They call this place Lucas's Folly."
It was impossible to imagine the confident man striding in front of her up the path to the cabin as being capable of folly. She found her gaze riveted on his broad shoulders. Beneath the thin polo shirt he was wearing, she could see the easy, sure movement of muscles as he swung her suitcase in rhythm with his stride. She'd learned in her research that from a psychological standpoint, a woman who was attracted to a man's muscular shoulders was probably looking for a strong emotional bond.
That was the last thing she wanted with Lucas Wainright, she reminded herself. If her plan was going to work at all, he was just someone she would practice on. A guinea pig.
She forced her gaze down the length of his back to his waist and below… Suddenly, her mouth went dry as dust. He had what Madame Gervais would definitely call in her Parisian French a…
As she watched him climb the porch steps, the foreign words escaped her. "Great buns" was the only description she could think of in English. His cutoff jeans fit over his backside like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination … just enough to make her wonder what his skin would feel like beneath that denim. Soft and smooth … firm and hard? Would it feel as hot as her own skin was beginning to feel?
The urge to find out was so sudden, so strong that Mac stopped dead in her tracks. If she hadn't, she was sure she would have reached out and actually placed the palm of her hand on Lucas's butt.
She made herself take a deep breath and let it out. In spite of the heat, the air felt cool compared to the fire that had started to burn in her body. What in the world was the matter with her? She'd never before found herself mesmerized by a man's derriere – that was the French word. According to Madame Gervais, women who were attracted to that particular body part were lusty adventurers who were looking for similar qualities in a man.
The thought of herself as a "lusty adventurer" nearly made her laugh. Still, it might be evidence that she did have a sensual side to her nature, after all.
It was only as Lucas opened the door of the cabin and glanced back over his shoulder that she realized she was staring at that part of his anatomy.
"Are you all right?" Lucas asked.
"Fine." She moved quickly up the steps and into the cabin. The air was stuffy and even warmer than outside. Or perhaps it was her own inner temperature rising because she was standing close to Lucas again. Close enough to touch.
Pushing the thought out of her mind, she focused her full attention on the small, tidy interior of the room. Though the darkness contrasted sharply with the glaring brightness outside, she noted that the room was minimally furnished with a couch, a coffee table, a desk and a chair. At one end, a wooden counter with two stools tucked beneath its wide ledge framed a space for a tiny kitchen. There was no clutter, nothing to suggest that the place was occupied except for the laptop computer and thick, sturdy briefcase that sat on the desk.
It was then that she noticed the framed photographs that nearly covered the wall above. Curious, she moved closer to get a better look. Most of the pictures were snapshots of Sophie and her younger brothers, the step-twins. Nicholas and Nathaniel's high-school graduation, Sophie's graduation from college. She'd met Sophie five years ago when she'd been doing postdoctoral work and Sophie had been finishing her undergraduate degree. They'd been fast friends ever since.
Her gaze shifted to a shot of the opening of Sophie's antique shop in Georgetown. And there were others that captured less formal occasions – Sophie and the step-twins beneath a Christmas tree, a teenage Sophie standing by a red convertible dangling the keys from her fingers. There were twenty pictures in all, a sort of family album/ mural, except that there were no parents in any of them. And no sign of Lucas.
Her attention was caught and held by the last photo in the bottom row. She was in it, standing next to Sophie. Lucas had snapped a victory picture after she and Sophie had beaten him at tennis.
Something moved through her then. Envy? Longing? Lifting her hand, she ran her fingers over the frame. The pictures were concrete evidence of something she already knew. Lucas Wainright valued his family.
"You played a great game. I'd be glad to make you a copy of the photo, if you'd like."
"Thanks." As she turned, she nearly bumped into him. He handed her a bottle of Water. "You'd better drink it all. In this kind of heat, it's easy to become dehydrated."
She took a long swallow, then watched as Lucas drained his bottle. She was close enough to see a drip of water run from the corner of his mouth to his chin, and then down the long column of his throat. In her mind, she imagined what it might be like to trace its path with her finger, to feel the coolness of the water, the heat of his skin underneath.
"Penny for your thoughts."
Mac reined them in. This was the second time in almost as many minutes that she'd fantasized about touching Lucas Wainright.
"Sophie says you have a problem you'd like my help with."
Her nerves slithered into a knot in her stomach, and she felt the bottle slip from her fingers.
Lucas caught it before it hit the floor and handed it back to her. "That bad, huh?"
Before she could reply, he took her arm and led her out to the porch. "Why don't you sit down. You can finish that water while I fix some sandwiches. We'll talk about it over lunch."
In the doorway, he turned back to her. "You can stay here as long as you want. If it helps any, Sophie was pretty sure I could help. And I'm certainly willing to do anything I can."
*
Was he going crazy? Lucas spread slices of bread out on the counter. Standing on that boat with her body so close to his had turned his brain to mush and another part of his anatomy into something hard, erect and ready to go.
Except it wasn't going anywhere. Taking a calming breath, he slapped slices of ham, then cheese on the bread. MacKenzie Lloyd was his sister's best friend, and he could not, would not, get involved with her. He'd vowed a long time ago to keep his relationships with women entirely separate from his family. He never dated anyone in his family's social circle, and he never brought any of his women friends home. It was just one of the methods he used to ensure that the women in his life never nurtured the false expectation that he would marry them. His other method was to be totally honest with them up front.
What was he thinking when he'd invited MacKenzie Lloyd to stay as long as she wanted?
Dumb question. He reached into the small refrigerator for mustard and spread it liberally on the ham. He hadn't been thinking at all. His mind had been too busy remembering the way her scent had wrapped itself around him, the way her hair, whipped back by the wind, had felt against his chin. And once he'd led her into the cabin, his mind had taken the leap from memory to fantasy, and had totally immersed itself in imagining what it would be like to make love with Dr. MacKenzie Lloyd.
Even as she'd settled herself on the steps, the image had slipped into his mind of sitting right down beside her and slipping her out of that neat little blouse, then the slacks. He'd been wondering just what it was that she wore beneath that cool-looking linen. Thin, white, practical cotton – the kind that schoolgirls wore – was what he'd pictured. Once he'd discarded that, he could spend the entire afternoon pleasuring her until she was spent and limp beneath him. And then he could begin again.
Bending down, he grabbed two beers from the cooler. He couldn't recall another woman who'd aroused such erotic fantasies in him. And she'd yet to give him any indication that the attraction he felt was mutual.
Was that what fascinated him? That cool, seemingly unflappable image that she projected? Certainly, he was curious about what lay beneath the surface. He'd already discovered that she wasn't as serious as she seemed. It had been pure, innocent enjoyment he'd seen in her eyes when that wave had lifted her right up off the deck of the boat.
And her laugh. Just recalling the sound of it had him wanting to surprise another one out of her.
Maybe she wasn't as indifferent to him as she appeared to be. He could think of several interesting ways to test that theory.
And he'd be a fool to put any of them to the test. Slapping the sandwiches onto a plate, he snagged the beers with his free hand and walked back out onto the porch.
She wasn't there.
"Mac!"
He was off the steps and scanning the beach when she said, "I'm up here."
Fear shot through him when he saw her perched on the sloping roof of the porch. "What the hell are you doing? You're afraid of heights."
"I'm also a coward. This is my way of summoning up some Dutch courage so that I can tell you why I'm here. But you may have to eat without me. I'm not sure I can get down."
Whatever else she was, MacKenzie Lloyd wasn't a coward. And what in the world had her so frightened that she'd climb onto a roof to screw up her courage? Tucking the bottles under his arm, he started up the ladder. "We'll eat up there then. I don't relish the thought of being flattened again if you decide to jump."
He had the pleasure of seeing her lips curve in a ghost of a smile as he settled himself beside her and distributed the sandwiches and beer. "Is it helping? To sit up here, I mean?"
"My stomach is still in a knot. But watching the water helps."
"Take a drink of the beer."