Finding The One (Meadowview Heroes 1; The Meadowview Series 5) (3 page)

Adorable, even though drool was not a flattering hair accessory.

The baby gave a sharp tug, tearing out a few strands. Pain radiated through her scalp. Uh oh. Cute or not, she needed to extract herself from the baby.

“Excuse me,” she gasped out. The woman was still turned away from her, deep in her conversation, and didn’t notice Trudy’s desperate plea, but at least Trudy had claimed Mac’s attention. And yet he made no move to take the baby.

Instead, he grinned.

She glared.

A quick glance over her shoulder told her Gregor stood about ten feet away, headed in her direction. Nerves exploded. She couldn’t possibly greet the artist with a baby using her dress straps as reins and pulling her hair out by the roots. And yet with a plate of food in one hand and a flute of champagne in the other, she couldn’t disengage the baby on her own. She leaned forward, trying to tug her way out of the cutie-pie’s grip, but the little baby hands refused to release the straps of her bow.

Grape down cleavage, mistaking friendliness for a come-on, hair filled with baby spit—she wasn’t sure this evening could get any worse.

But then the baby pulled hard with both hands and released the dress’s straps and all of a sudden Gertrude T. Prendergast learned how much worse the night could get.

Because all she could do was watch helplessly as the broad straps of her dress—straps that also served as her bodice—floated down to droop at her waist.

Completely baring her breasts to the crowd.

F
or a brief moment
, as Mac stared at Trudy’s naked breasts, his brain couldn’t figure out what the heck had just happened. Then he wrenched his gaze upward and took in her shocked and humiliated expression.
Oh, God, the poor thing.
By tugging on her dress straps, his infant nephew had just accidentally bared the woman’s uh…
amazing
boobs. In the middle of the art gallery, for all to see.

Instinctively, he pivoted on one foot to stand in front of her—blocking her nakedness from the crowd—then pulled her against him.

Trudy stared up at him, her face a blank slate, then those mouth lines were back, coupled with a deep line between her brows. A vein transecting her brow beat rapidly. “What are you doing?” she gasped out.

He peered down at her. “Rescuing you.”

“You’re
hugging
me.”

Her brilliant green eyes flashed. In high heels, her mouth was nearly level with his. Her warm, juicy, lush mouth. He fought the urge to kiss her. Instead, he pressed one hand against her back, clenching her chest tight to his, and deftly snared one of the straps of her dress with his other hand.

“Get off me!” She struggled, but he held her firm.

“If I let go of you now, you’ll flash everyone. Again. I’m guessing that’s something you’d rather avoid…”

Her cheeks heated. “Um, yes.”

“We look all cuddly at the moment. No one can tell I’m re-dressing you. All you have to do is hold still. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” He worked the strap of fabric up between their chests, then slid it up and over her shoulder.

“I can do it myself—”

“I’ve almost got it,” he added. “I promise no one can tell what I’m doing. It’s dim, with the lights low and the spotlight on Gregor. If anyone even notices, they’d think I’m just hitting on you.”

She snorted. “You should have helped me with your baby
before
this disaster happened.”

“My baby?” He lifted his gaze from hers to look for his sister and nephew. Doe had melted into the crowd, taking Aaron with her. At least the little bugger had let go of Trudy’s dress. “Aaron’s
not
my baby.” His fingers found the other silken strap.

“But he called you ‘Dada.’”

“Contrary to popular belief, an infant’s first word isn’t ‘Mama,” it’s ‘Dada.’ I’m sure moms all over the world glare at their husbands regularly, but who am I to argue with a baby?”

“So that woman isn’t your wife?”

Realization formed. “You mean Doe? She’s my
sister.
”

Trudy pulled back, her eyes squinted tight and her brow wrinkled, but in a cute I’m-so-confused way, not an I’m-gonna-kill-you way. “Oh, wow. Total mistake on my part.”

Maybe Trudy had been dissing him because she thought him a two-timing pig. Hope flared. He could fix this situation. If Trudy would let him. After all, he’d been a bit of a pain this evening. Not that he’d meant to be, but hey—miscommunication happened. And he’d had a boatload of miscommunication with the radiant woman standing before him tonight.

He chuckled.

She frowned.

But the downturn of her lips didn’t match the warmth in her eyes. In such close proximity, he caught a whiff of her scent. An intoxicating aroma of something sweet and— “You smell like a salad.”

“What?” Trudy pulled back. The fabric slipped.

“Don’t move,” he warned. “You smell like carrots, or maybe lettuce or something. Nothing to do with the food on the plate you’re holding,” he added quickly. “And flowers, too. So I guess you smell more like a garden. Huh. I’ve never been around someone who smells like a garden before. Very sexy.” He sneaked a peek at Trudy’s face.

She shifted until their mouths were a mere inch apart, puzzlement written across her face. “It’s…it’s my shampoo. Cucumber mint.”

He inhaled. “Smells delicious.” He dipped his face closer to her neck, his hands still working the straps behind her.

“Um, thank you?” she said. After a pause, she added, “You know, I do appreciate you rescuing me.”

“My pleasure.” Mac traded positions with his hands and fished around for the other strap. He worked the soft silk up her chest. Someone bumped him from behind and his hand slipped.

Trudy sucked in a deep breath.

“Sorry. Unintentional.”

“Really,” she drawled out, raising an eyebrow. But the corners of her mouth were raised. A good sign.

“Yes, really. I’m being a gentleman, which, believe me, isn’t all that easy right now.” He maneuvered the silk and got both straps to cover her breasts. “Knot or bow?” he asked.

“What? Oh, knot. Make that a double knot.”

Mac closed his eyes and let his hands linger at the nape of her neck. Her skin under his fingertips felt as soft as silk sheets. He breathed in the scent of her hair again. Cucumber and mint, huh? Who would have thought that would be so enticing? He pulled the straps together behind her neck and tied a neat square not. Then he looped it again. “There. All concealed.”

“Thanks.” Trudy heaved a breath. “You can let me go now.”

“I’d rather not.” Mac loosened his grip but kept one arm wrapped around her, gently caressed the small of her back. He caught the attention of a passing waiter, then took the plate of food and the now-flat champagne from Trudy’s hand and placed them on the waiter’s tray. Then he caught her gaze. For a moment they stood, silent, connecting visually the same way they’d done earlier, when he’d been up on the balcony after she’d been attacked by a flying grape.

The tension in her back released. That cute quirk of a smile came back.

Mac’s pulse raced. No part of him wanted to let her go. The two of them most
definitely
needed to start over. He’d reintroduce himself, then introduce her to Doe and Aaron as his sister and nephew. But he wouldn’t introduce his father. Tonight he just wanted to be Mac, not Mac Johns, son of world-renown sculptor Gregor Johansson. Just this once he wanted to rest on his own laurels and not any residuals from his father. He could always get to “the son of” part later.

“I know,” he said, leaning close to her ear, “let’s have a do-over.”

Trudy wrinkled her brow. “A what?”

“I’ll pretend like I didn’t see the grape”—Trudy blushed—“or your incredible, um, assets”—Trudy’s blush deepened—“and you pretend like you never thought I had a kid and was married. You know, a do-over.”

* * *

“
A
do-over
,” Trudy repeated. Huh
.
She considered Mac’s proposal. Not an easy process, what with Mac’s firm body still pressed up against hers, causing all sorts of inappropriate thoughts to go through her mind (there were
three
condoms in her purse, right?). She stared into those hot blue eyes, and any coherency she’d once possessed dissipated, replaced by a powerful sexual draw.

She gave herself a mental shake.
Focus, Trudy.
When Mac had pointed to her cleavage while he was up on the balcony, she’d thought he’d been laughing at her. But apparently he really had been flirting, although not very well, in her opinion. Then she’d gone all Wicked Bitch of the West on him. Following that, she’d erroneously assumed he was a married man.

And even after she’d given him her best stank-eye and treated him like a stinky pile of manure, Mac had rescued her from broad humiliation, especially from her hopefully future employer. Now here he stood, asking for a second chance.

He ran a light hand down her spine. “Well?”

She shivered, not from cold but from intense attraction. Gregor Johansson was nowhere in sight, and she was pretty sure she’d noticed him ducking out of an exit while Mac was tying up her dress straps. And here this gorgeous and sexy guy was asking her for a do-over. She nibbled her lip as she considered the options…

“C’mon,” Mac said. “Let’s try. I’ll pretend we’d never met, and you’ll do the same. What’s to lose?”

“You do have a point,” she answered slowly, figuring she could go home now, or she could start over with the man who’d made her insides quiver from the very moment she set eyes on him.

“Agreed. I’m in.” She leaned back far enough to hold out her hand for him to shake. “Hi, I’m Trudy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Mac released his grip on her to take her hand in his. He bent and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “I’m Mac. And the feeling’s mutual.”

“Dada,” an infant’s voice interrupted.

She laughed. The baby was back. The baby who’d single-handedly—well double-fistedly, to be accurate—bared her “girls.” Mac’s nephew—
not
his son.

“Ehem.” Mac’s sister—
not
his wife—edged her way between them, the baby on her hip and the tall man who’d been on the balcony with Mac earlier at her side. “Planning on introducing us?”

Mac rolled his eyes. “Trudy, meet my sister and nephew, Doe and Aaron, and my friend, Remy Toussaint.”

“Nice to meet you.” Doe jiggled the wide-smiling baby on her hip. She turned to Mac. “I gotta head back to Meadowview. I need to get this squirt to bed sometime this century. Besides, Mister Celebrity Artist we just celebrated wants me to finish arranging a trip to Europe for him early in the morning. Apparently, I need to actually
work
in order to get a paycheck.”

Wait—had the girl just inferred she worked for Gregor Johansson? The very man Trudy needed to save her career, her loft, and basically her life as she knew it? Maybe Doe could help her meet the man. “You work for the artist?” Trudy asked.

Rather than answering, Doe let out a yelp. She smacked her brother in the arm, flashing him a pointed look. “Did you just kick me?”

Mac raised his eyebrows at his sister. “No, I believe you stepped into my foot.”

Puzzled, Trudy watched as a series of glances were tossed back and forth between brother and sister. Some sort of odd sibling dynamic, she figured, used to her own silent wars with Milla.

Mac turned his attention back to her. “Doe occasionally works for Gregor,” he answered slowly.

“And his know-it-all son,” Doe added, then quickly dodged her brother again.

“Um…in that case, do you think you could introduce me to Mr. Johansson? I’d love to meet him.” Trudy left off the “because I want him to hire me” part of that sentence. She figured these folks didn’t need to know she was desperate for the contract with the sculptor.

“Um, sure…but not tonight,” Doe said. “Sorry, but he left already.”

“He’s gone?” Mac asked, his voice a little sharp and the lines around his mouth a bit tight as he looked at his sister.

“Yep.” Doe nodded. “He’s driving himself back to Meadowview. And Remy here is taking Aaron and me home. What about you two?” She flicked her gaze between Trudy and Mac, an eyebrow raised.

“I’m taking Trudy out for a drink,” Mac said.

“Wait—what?” She hadn’t agreed to go out with him yet, had she? She glanced around for Milla, then mentally kicked herself. She was being a ninny. This guy was gorgeous. Condom-worthy. But her sister’s seal of approval would make her more comfortable before she went out with the guy. Milla had great taste in men—Trudy’s brother-in-law Jarrod was a prime example.

Mac cupped her elbow in his hand and brought his head close to hers. “C’mon,” he murmured in her ear. “Let me buy you a drink. It would be a great start to our do-over.”

She fought to suppress a smile. This guy was charming as well as sexy.

He backed up and held her gaze. “Hey, I’m a nice guy, once you get to know me. And I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he said, loud enough to capture his sister’s attention. “My sister can vouch for me.”

“Wish I could.” Doe shoved Aaron in his arms. “I’d trust Mac with my life, and his best friend Remy here is a sheriff. But my brother’s far from a gentleman—”

“I’m turning over a new leaf,” Mac said, frowning. He turned to Trudy. “For the first time in a long time, something—no, make that
someone
—is inspiring me.” He flashed a grin. “I promise I’ll behave.”

Trudy turned to the man standing silently at Doe’s side. “You’re really a sheriff?”

“Yep,” Remy said, pulling aside his blazer to flash a badge attached to his belt. “Up in Deloro County. And Doe’s not telling the full story. He treats women right, even”—he notched his chin at a grinning Doe—“his pain-in-the-rear little sister here, although she puts him through the wringer. He’s trustworthy.”