"Right. Back on topic. Two hot chicks squaring off over the Cartman. I bet if the redhead had come in, you'd have had a chick fight. Chicks fighting over you, Carter." Bob's eyes went bright with fantasy. "You're the big, bad dog."
"I don't want to be the dog." There was a reason he'd kept the incident to himself through the workday. But what madness had overtaken him to make him believe he could get reasonable advice out of Bob anywhere, anytime? "Try to stay with me on this, Bob."
"I'm trying, but I keep getting flashes of the girl fight. You know, with the rolling around on the floor and ripping each other's clothes." Bob lifted his skinny cinnamon latte. "It's pretty vivid."
"There was no fight."
"There could have been. Okay, so you don't want to try juggling the two of them. Me, I think you've got the skills for it, but I'm sensing you want me to help you figure out which one to pick."
"No. No. No." Carter dropped his head in his hands. "They're not ties, Bob. This is not a comparison study. I'm in love with Mackensie."
"Seriously? Well, hey, you never said you had the Big L for her. I thought you just had a thing." Rubbing his chin, Bob sat back. "This is a different equation. How pissed off was she?"
"Take a guess, then double it."
Bob nodded wisely. "Beyond the taking her flowers and apologizing. You've got to get your foot in the door first, that's the thing. Something like this, when you're the innocent party . . . You are an innocent party, right?"
"Bob."
"Okay. You're going to have to let her kick your ass first, that's my advice." Considering, Bob sipped his latte. "Then you've got to tell her how you're innocent. Then you've got to beg. You're going to want to top it off with something that sparkles in a case like this."
"Jewelry? A bribe?"
"You don't look at it like a bribe. It's an apology. It doesn't matter that you didn't do anything, Carter. It never does. You want this to go away, get things back, get her back and have sex with her again in this decade, you spring for something shiny. It's coming up on Valentine's Day anyway."
"That's shallow and manipulative."
"Damn right."
Carter laughed. "I'll keep the something shiny as a backup plan. But I think you're right about the rest. Especially letting her kick my ass first. It looked bad. It looked very bad."
"Did you take the brunette for a tumble?"
"No. God."
"Then you're a righteous man. Remember that. You're a righteous man, Carter. But you're also the big, bad dog. I'm proud to know you."
IN HER STUDIO, MAC FINISHED A SET OF PROOFS. SHE BOXED them for the client, along with a price sheet, her business card, and a list of options.
She glanced at the phone and congratulated herself for having the spine not to return Carter's calls. Maybe Corrine had been playing games. Probably she'd been playing games. But he'd still been on the field.
It would take more than a couple of apologetic phone calls to make up for that. Besides, if he hadn't done anything, what was he apologizing for?
Didn't matter, she reminded herself.
She was going to reward herself for a productive day with a bubble bath, a glass of wine, and an evening of popcorn and TV. An action movie, she decided. Where lots of things blew up, and there was absolutely not the slightest whiff of romance.
She set her completed work in a Vows shopping bag for delivery, then whirled around as she heard her door open.
Linda, in full, spitting rage, stormed in. "How dare you? How dare you have my car towed to some second-rate garage? Do you know they expected me to pay two hundred dollars to release it? You'd better write me a check right this minute."
Okay, Mac thought, there's the bell for this round. And for once, I'm ready. "Not on your life. Give me my keys."
"I'll give you your keys when you give me my two hundred dollars."
Mac stepped forward, grabbed her mother's purse, and emptied the contents on the floor. Linda's utter shock gave Mac time to crouch down, shove through the debris, and pocket her keys.
"How-"
"Dare I?" Mac said coolly. "I dare because you borrowed my car on Sunday, because you didn't return it, or my calls, for five days. I dare because I'm finished being used and abused. Believe me when I say I'm finished. I'm done. This stops now."
"It snowed. You could hardly expect me to risk driving home from New York in a snowstorm. I could have had an accident. I could have-"