out on the ceremony. Avoiding occasions that made him yearn for what might have been was something he’d become good at. But he still admired her cleverness.
He was beginning to like the uptight Miss Ashley.
Pushing aside the unwelcome thought, he put one arm in the jacket. “Help me on with this, will you?”
He turned his back to her and bent his knees so she could reach to guide his other arm into the jacket and pull it up onto his shoulders. He adjusted it until it settled perfectly on his frame. It fit. Not that he was surprised.
He shook his head and turned back to face her, watching her intently as she fussed with the lay of his lapels. Damn, but she was pretty. Pretty, sexy, clever. And for the strangest reason, it struck him that she was nothing like the ruthlessly ambitious Stephanie after all.
Whoa. Time to back off, Wild Man.
She glanced up and met his gaze for a second and awareness crackled between them before she dropped her attention back to his lapels. She could sure rev his engine. All he had to do was pop the clutch.
While he had every intention of keeping his foot down firm on the clutch pedal, the stupid devil inside that made him hang from cliffs without a lifeline made him lean toward her sweet-smelling hair. “I can’t help but wonder what else you’re good at, sunshine.”
Her lush, pink lips moved, but nothing came out. He had just decided to momentarily suspend his decision to back off and put her out of her misery with a big, fat kiss when a feminine voice sounded from the doorway.
“Children, so sorry to make you wait.”
Mac jerked his head up and Ashley took a hasty step back as an older woman who had to be Dorothy Rivers swept into the dining room wearing deck shoes, white Capri pants, and a nautical-looking sweatshirt. Harrison had talked a lot about his diminutive grandmother and all the activities she still engaged in, but Mac wasn’t prepared for the whirlwind the Grand Dame of the Rivers clan turned out to be. And the sharpness in her dark-green eyes as she settled her gaze on him had him furthering the distance between him and her granddaughter.
Ashley recovered first. “That’s all right, Grandmother. As you can see, we weren’t ready to eat quite yet.”
Dorothy’s gaze went from Ashley to Mac knowingly. “Oh, yes, I see.”
Ashley gestured to Mac. “Grandmother, this is Mac Wild. He’s a friend of Harrison’s. They met at Harvard. Mac, I’d like you to meet my grandmother, Dorothy Rivers.”
Ever the hostess.
Dorothy extended a frail hand that revealed her age far more than her face did. “I know who this young man is.” Her wink was playful, but when Mac took her hand in his, the hard squeeze she gave him made him blink and look more closely at her.
Holy haggis. She knew who he really was.
She nodded, verifying the horror undoubtedly reflected in his eyes. “I met his parents once while visiting Harrison at school. Delightful family you have, young man, but they were so concerned by your risky behavior.”
“Oh?” Ashley asked with far too much interest for Mac’s liking.
He started racking his brain for a place he could go and hide out instead of the Rivers estate.
Dorothy smiled and said, “That is such a handsome suit coat on you.”
Surprised that she hadn’t elaborated on his family for Ashley’s benefit or called him Wilder, Mac answered stupidly, “Ashley bought it for me.”
Dorothy clapped her hands together. “How fortuitous. I happen to have the perfect place for you to wear it.”
Dread crept up his neck. “Oh?” he flatly echoed Ashley’s earlier question.
Her green eyes twinkling in the dining room chandelier’s light, Dorothy said, “I need Ashley to fill in for me at a dinner next Friday night—that is all right with you, isn’t it, darling?”
“But you’re receiving an award, Grandmother. Are you certain you can’t make it?”
Dorothy waved her off. “Oh pish. You deserve that award more than I do, and something more important has come up.”
Ashley hedged, “Well, if you’re certa—”
“You are such a dear.” Dorothy patted her granddaughter on the arm. “And Mac, you can be her escort.”
Not a good idea. Spending an evening with Ashley would not equal backing off. Mac shook his head. “I can’t—”
“You know,” Dorothy cut him off. “It has been too long since I spoke to your parents. How are they?”
On to her game, Mac dropped his chin and obliged. “They’re fine. I’ll tell them you said hello. And actually, I’d be delighted to escort Ashley Friday night.” Realizing he might still have an out, he added, “Assuming, of course, that it’s all right with Ashley…”
Instead of screaming foul as he’d hoped, Ashley raised her chin a notch and met his gaze, her eyes glinting with determination. “I think that would be fine, Grandmother, because I know it is customary for the recipient to have a…an escort.”
Mac nearly laughed at her refusal to say date.
“Oh, thank you, darling. Now you two sit down to your dinner. I won’t be joining you after all. Thelma Jacobson has returned from her trip to the beach and is having an impromptu clam feed, so I’m off to stuff myself on steamers. It was a pleasure to finally get to meet you, Mac,” she ended lightly, though ominously to his ears, before she hurried back out of the dining room.
Mac rolled his shoulders beneath his new suit jacket. Great. Not only did he have to contend with Ashley, but now he was being blackmailed by a granny.
He looked to Ashley. She wore a pleasant enough expression, but he could tell she was itching to dare him to complain about ol’ Dorth. He decided to make her pay, instead. The MacDougal way.
Because it seemed he’d jumped from one meddling clan to another, and damn if he wasn’t attracted as hell to their fair young ringleader.
Chapter Four
“Boy, this veranda sure has a gorgeous view.”
Mac’s deep voice breaking the morning silence behind Ashley startled her so much she jerked. A good portion of the hazelnut-flavored coffee she’d been seeking consciousness in slopped onto her cup’s saucer.
She turned in her chair, away from the view of the sprawling back lawn, to find Mac, dressed in a white, short-sleeve T-shirt tucked into black knit sweatpants above high-tech, all terrain hiking shoes, and standing just outside one of the many French doors opening on to the veranda.
He was looking directly at her, not the view.
Her system received the sort of jolt caffeine could never give her.
She pretended to misunderstand his statement. “The gardeners have done a stunning job with the grounds, haven’t they?”
He moved toward her, plowing a hand through hair that appeared damp in the morning sun, with the comb lines still visible on the side he wasn’t disrupting, like he’d just showered. His smile was lopsided and devastating. “Wouldn’t know.” He shrugged. “Haven’t noticed.”
She hid the heat his appreciation generated in her cheeks, along with the annoyance at herself and at him for affecting her so, by turning back toward the view of the lawn and taking a sip of coffee. She did make a quick check that her navy-blue skirt hadn’t ridden too far up her thighs and that the pointed collar of the matching blouse hadn’t opened too wide, though. No reason to let him think she was a willing participant in his pointless game. She did not need the flirtatious attention of some gorgeous wild man to know she had value.
When