“I have many shoes, but I assume you’re talking about manly ones.”

“That would be best. High heels make my toes cramp.”

“Funny guy. Actually, we may be able to help you out. Parker keeps a supply of dress shoes for events. Standard black dress for men, black heels for women.”

“That’s . . . efficient.”

“It’s compulsive, but we’ve actually dipped into them several times. What size?”

“Fourteen.”

This time her head shot up. “Fourteen?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“That’s like aircraft carrier size.” She tossed off the covers to study his feet. “You have battleship feet.”

“Which is why I trip over them so much. I don’t think Parker’s compulsive enough to carry fourteens.”

“No, not even Parker. Sorry, but I can provide the toothbrush and razor.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

“I think we should start with the shower. We need to get hot and wet and all kinds of slippery.” She glanced down at him and grinned. “Hey, look who’s awake again!” Laughing, she rolled out of bed, raced for the shower.

BY THE TIME MAC WRAPPED HERSELF IN A TOWEL, SHE’D DECIDED Carter was as creative vertically as he was horizontally. Wonderfully loose, she dug out a spare toothbrush, a disposable razor, and a travel-sized can of shaving cream.

“There you go.” She turned as he rapped his elbow getting out of the shower. “I have a question. How come you’re not clumsy when you’re having sex?”

“I guess I pay better attention.” Frowning, he rubbed his elbow. “Plus you distracted me in your towel.”

“Since you’re going to shave, I’m going down to start the coffee. That way I won’t distract you into cutting your face to ribbons.”

She gave his face a pat, ended up yanked against him and thoroughly distracted. When she managed to wiggle away, she tossed him her towel. “You take it since it’s a problem.”

She grabbed her robe off the back of the door, and sauntered out naked.

When she disappeared, Carter picked up the razor, studied it dubiously before eyeing the nasty sunset of bruising on his jaw. “Okay, let’s see if we can do this without any facial scarring.”

Downstairs, Mac hummed as she measured out beans. She didn’t really need coffee to jump-start her day, she thought. Carter had taken care of that. He took care, she thought with a sigh, so she felt tended and appreciated, challenged and excited.

When was the last time she had a man bring out all those things in her? Let’s see . . . Absolutely never. And above all those things? She felt happy.

She opened the fridge, counted four eggs. That ought to do it. She got out a bowl, a whisk, a skillet. She wanted to fix him breakfast, she realized—such as it was. Wanted to put a little meal together for him. To tend, she supposed, as he tended.

It must be—

Her thoughts scattered as she heard the door open. “Em? If you’ve come to mooch coffee, you’d better be carrying one of my mugs you’ve walked off with.”

She turned, expecting to see her friend, and watched her mother walk into the kitchen.

“Mom.” Mac’s face went numb. “What are you doing here?”

“Dropping by to see my daughter.” Beaming smiles, Linda tossed open her arms as she rushed across the kitchen to grab Mac in a hard hug. “Oh, you’re so thin! You should’ve been a model instead of the one taking pictures. Coffee, wonderful. Have you got any skim milk?”

“No. Mom, I’m sorry, this isn’t a good time.”

“Oh, why do you want to hurt my feelings?” On Linda, a pout was both pretty and effective—and she knew it. Her baby blue eyes radiated hurt, her soft, pink mouth projected defenselessness—with the slightest of quivers.

“I don’t mean to. It’s just . . . we have an event today and—”

“You always have an event.” Linda waved it off. “You can spare five minutes for your mother.” As she spoke, Linda tossed her coat over a stool. “I came all the way over here to thank you for the spa. And to apologize.” Those blue eyes took on a sheen of emotion and unshed tears. “I shouldn’t have been so cranky with you, and after you were so sweet to me. I’m so sorry.”

She meant it, Mac knew. For as long as it lasted.

Rather than acknowledge sentiments that would be fleeting, Mac got out a mug. Give her coffee, get her gone, she thought. “Great outfit. You’re awfully suited up for a drop-by.”

“Oh, this?” Linda did a runway turn in the sharp red suit that set off her curves and burned against her fall of blond hair. “It’s fabulous, isn’t it?” She threw back her head and laughed, until Mac had to smile.

“It is. Especially on you.”

“What do you think, the pearls are good with it, aren’t they? Not too matron lady?”

“Nothing could look matronly on you.” Mac offered the mug.

“Oh, honey, don’t you have a decent cup and saucer?”

“No. Where are you taking the outfit?”

“I’m having brunch in the city, at Elmo. With Ari.”

“Who?”

“Ari. I met him at the spa. I told you. He lives in the city. He owns olive groves and vineyards—and, well, I’m not sure exactly, but it doesn’t matter. His son runs most of the businesses now. He’s a widower.”

“Ah.”

“He may be the one.” Forgoing the coffee, Linda pressed a hand to her heart. “Oh, Mac, we had such a meeting of the minds and spirits, such an instant connection. It must’ve been fate that sent me to the spa at the same time he was there.”

My three thousand sent you to the spa, Mac thought.

“He’s very handsome, in a distinguished kind of way. He travels everywhere. He has a second home on Corfu, a pied-à-terre in London, and a summer home in the Hamptons. I’d barely gotten in the door from the spa when he called to ask me to brunch today.”

“Have a good time. You should get started, it’s a long drive into the city.”

“It really is, and my car made a funny noise yesterday. I need to borrow yours.”

“I can’t lend you my car. I need it.”