Can't Fight This Feeling

“Oh.” The other woman blinked. “Are you from around here? I thought I knew just about everyone.”

“I’m a relative newcomer.” She stuck out her hand—what else could she do? “Angelica Rodriguez.”

“Mackenzie Walker.” Her grasp was firm. “But everybody calls me Mac.”

Mac Walker. “Nice to meet you.”

“So how’d you get involved with the historical society?” Her assessing gaze took in Angelica’s black jeans, black boots and the black-and-white sweater she was wearing that had white chiffon cuffs and a matching chiffon underlay that peeked out below the hemline. “It’s not something I’d guess a newcomer would join.”

Glancing toward the courtyard, Angelica saw the legs hadn’t moved and she could hear Brett murmuring, presumably into his phone. “It was my friend Glory Hallett,” she said. “She knew I had some experience putting together fund-raisers and she invited me to serve on the committee with her.”

“Now Glory I know,” Mac said. “And I remember hearing about the big party that accompanied the auction—at one of the fancy mountain lodges, right? I think my sister and her fiancé attended.”

“It was a wonderful event at the Aspen & Oak Lodge. Dinner, dancing and then the silent auction. We had many beautiful and valuable things to offer, thanks to Walter Elliott. When he passed away, he left the historical society the contents of his mountain home.”

At the mention of the name, Mac stiffened. “That’s right. Walter Elliott,” she repeated.

“It was quite the success,” Angelica said brightly. “We hope to have an annual fund-raiser from now on. Maybe next summer you and your husband—”

“What are you doing here?” Brett said, strolling into the office. His gaze was trained on Angelica’s face. He didn’t look pleased to see her.

Mac glanced over at him. “This is An—”

“I know who she is.”

The other woman’s brows rose. She looked from Brett to Angelica and back again. “You two are acquainted,” she said, in a speculative tone.

Angelica felt herself flushing again. “Uh, hardly. Not even a little bit, really. I’ve seen him around once or twice.”

“Not even a little bit?” Mac repeated.

Maybe the other woman was the jealous type who would scratch her eyes out for merely looking at her husband. If Brett was married to her, Angelica was sure she’d probably find herself very possessive. “I should be going,” she said, taking a step back.

“Not so soon,” Mac replied, a smile tipping up the corners of her mouth. “We’re just getting friendly.”

Angelica fanned herself. “Is it a little warm in here or is it just me?”

“I think it’s just you,” Mac said, with a light in her eyes that Angelica didn’t trust. “I’m perfectly comfortable. How about you, Brett?”

He was still staring at Angelica as if she was something he’d brought in on the bottom of his shoe. “I’m always comfortable.”

“Well. Um.” Angelica wished the floor would open up and swallow her. “I was just popping by to give you that update.”

“What update?” he asked.

Mac’s expression looked way too innocent. “On the historical society fund-raiser. Angelica had a hand in it. Remember the one that Poppy and Ryan attended about a month ago?”

“I don’t listen to half the things she prattles on about,” he said.

Mac rolled her eyes in Angelica’s direction. “Men! And then they wonder why they have so much trouble with us. If only they’d pay attention every once in a while.”

Rather than speaking, Angelica responded with a tentative smile. With that pair of crystalline eyes on her, it was hard to think.

“I rarely have trouble with women,” Brett said.

“Because they’re often much too accommodating,” Mac retorted. She directed her attention back to Angelica. “Are you married? Have a boyfriend?”

“No. I’m, um, on my own right now.”

“Isn’t that fascinating? Brett’s on his own right now, too.” She shot the man a look. “Or has that changed?”

When he didn’t answer, Angelica gestured between the two on the other side of the counter. “Oh. I thought maybe you two might be married.”

Mac let out a loud hoot. “No, thank you. He’s my brother.”

It wasn’t relief or anything like it that sluiced through her, Angelica told herself. Or if it was, it was only because it would have been humiliating to have spent so much time fantasizing about a guy who was already spoken for. “I met your sister once, then. Shay?”

“Sure.” Mac glanced over at Brett. “So our brother introduced you?”

“Angelica introduced herself,” Brett said. “And if I recall correctly, she thought Shay might be my girlfriend.”

“Hmm.” Mac tucked her thumbs in the front pockets of her jeans. “You seem very interested in my brother’s relationship status,” she murmured.

Angelica barely registered the other woman’s remark, as the memory of that particular meeting ran through her mind again. “You told her I was a useless piece of fluff,” she said to Brett. It had hurt then. It still hurt.

He winced. “You heard that?”

“Never mind,” Angelica muttered. “I’ve got to go.” The universe, clearly, had its back still turned to her. “It was nice to meet you,” she said, nodding to Mac. Then she headed for the door.

“Wait,” Brett began, but she was already out the door.

When it shut behind her, she began jogging, even though the heels of her boots wobbled on the uneven sidewalk. No matter, she needed to put distance between herself and the man who always made her feel awkward and uncertain—not to mention hot and hyperaware of every inch of skin.

“Hey!”

She’d only made it half a block from Mac’s business so, pretending she didn’t hear Brett’s voice, she moved faster.

Then a hard hand closed around her elbow. She skidded to a stop. Rounding on him, she yanked her arm from his hold. “What now?” she demanded, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

He stepped back, then he smiled.

It was devastating. He’d never smiled at her, but there it was, a slice of white teeth and attractive lines around the corners of his beautiful eyes. How she despised herself for being so susceptible to him. She slammed her hands on her hips. “Well?”

“You’re pretty cute when enraged.” His smile widened when she made a low, furious sound in her throat and he held up his palms. “You can retract your claws, kitten. I’m not here to steal your catnip.”

Still, he stole her breath. And if she wasn’t careful, he might steal something else. “What are you following me for?” she demanded.

“To deliver an apology.”

“Did your sister put you up to this?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s all my own idea, okay? That was a lousy thing I said to Shay. I was probably in a crappy mood and just mouthed off.”

“Probably in a crappy mood?”

“Okay, I’m sure I was in a crappy mood. You seem to bring out the worst in me.”

“I am devastated to hear that,” she said, her tone sarcastic.

He winced again. “Angelica—”

“Never mind.” She pretended to wipe a slate clean. “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you.” He continued to watch her. “So.”

“So.” She refused to twitch. Then she couldn’t stand the silence a second longer. “Well... Have a nice life.”

One of his eyebrows rose, the one with the intriguing scar.

“We’ll likely never see each other again,” she explained.

“It’s a small town,” he said, rubbing his palm over his hair in that habitual gesture.

She shrugged. “Just in case, then.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Just in case then,” he finally agreed. “Be happy.”

It would only take a job, some place to live and a way to forget all about him. “I intend to,” she said, and hoped that intention was enough to make it so because luck hadn’t been on her side lately.

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