Marriage On The Cards: Marry Me, Mackenzie! / A Proposal Worth Millions / Heart Surgeon, Hero...Husband?. Susan Carlisle

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      Needing to clean up anyway, Mackenzie took a quick shower and shrugged into her bathrobe. She wiped the moisture from the bathroom mirror and frowned at her own reflection. She looked tired. Dark circles, a little bit of stress acne on her chin.

      Lovely.

      When Mackenzie returned to her bedroom, her dirty clothes had been collected and deposited in the hamper. And Max was happily lounging on her freshly made bed.

      “What did you do in here?” Mackenzie asked.

      “Oh...I just picked up a little so I could see what we’re working with,” Rayna said offhandedly. “You do know that square isn’t a flattering shape for a woman’s body, right?” Rayna had pulled several tops out of her closet. “Why are all your clothes two sizes too big?”

      “I don’t have time for shopping, Ray...you know what I do have time for?” She sounded defensive. “Payroll. And hospital visits. So, no offense, but having a fashion moment just isn’t high up on my priority list.”

      “I know how busy you are.” Rayna’s hands stilled and she looked over her shoulder at Mackenzie. “But you’re still buying clothes for your old body. And you may not believe me, but a good pair of jeans and a pretty blouse can change your whole outlook on life.”

      Mackenzie caught her reflection in the dresser mirror. Yes, she had lost a ton of weight. But when she looked in the mirror, all she saw was fat. And, with Hope’s illness and always struggling to make ends meet, it was easier just to buy oversize, comfy clothes and avoid reflective surfaces. She couldn’t remember the last time she had actually tried something on in a fitting room.

      “Now, this is pretty!” Rayna spun around and held up a deep purple short-sleeved blouse that Hope had convinced her to buy. “What do you think? It still has the price tag on it.”

      Mackenzie shook her head. “No. I don’t do short sleeves. My arms are too...” She wrinkled her nose distastefully. “Jiggly.”

      Disappointed, Rayna hung the blouse back in the closet. “You’re your own worst enemy...you’re hot and you don’t even know it.”

      Mackenzie opened her dresser drawer and pulled out her favorite long-sleeved San Diego Padres shirt. “It’s ridiculous that I’ve even been spending one second stressing about this...it’s Dylan. Not a date. So I’m not gonna get all gussied up, when I never get all gussied up, and make Dylan feel all weirded out because he thinks that I think that this evening is something more than it is. Which it’s not.”

      “It’s a date.” Rayna sat down on the bed next to Max. “Friday night. And he’s cooking you dinner at his place? It’s a date.”

      Refusing to indulge in Rayna’s fantasy, Mackenzie stepped into the bathroom to slip into the Padres shirt and a pair of jeans. Mackenzie sighed. The jeans were tighter around the waist than they used to be. Why did it always have to be such a battle? If she didn’t watch every bite, consider every carb or exercise several times a week, the scale would turn against her.

      Whatever.

      “Trust me, Ray...I’m not Dylan’s type.” Mackenzie grabbed her comb and began the chore of untangling her thick, wavy hair. “And he’s not really mine.”

      “You actually have to date to have a type...and besides, you guys have a daughter...you must’ve been attracted to each other at some point. Right?”

      “That was—” Mackenzie stopped combing her hair for a second to think. “I don’t know what that was.”

      “A night of unforgettable passion?” Rayna raised her eyebrows suggestively several times.

      Mackenzie scrunched up her face. “Uh-uh. Honestly...it was...really, really awkward.”

      “Oh...” Rayna wilted. “See...judging from pictures, I would’ve thought Dylan would be good in bed. For a man. He’s got that sexy, squinty-eye thing going on.”

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mackenzie had never noticed Dylan having a sexy, squinty anything. It was Dylan. Annoying, mooning, bug-throwing Dylan.

      Rayna held up her pinkie and wiggled it. “Is he really...you know? Tiny?”

      “What?” Mackenzie looked perplexed at Rayna’s bouncing pinkie for a minute before she caught Rayna’s meaning. “No...no. He’s fine in that department. It’s just that we had way too much to drink...”

      “Which never works in a guy’s favor...”

      “And I didn’t want him to touch me anywhere because I was bulgy all over....”

      Rayna’s brows lifted. “Now I’m actually kind of surprised the two of you managed to procreate.”

      “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Mackenzie twisted her hair up into a bun and secured it with a clip. “I can guarantee you that neither one of us wants a repeat of that night.”

      Deflated, Rayna said, “So...not a date.”

      “No. Definitely not a date.”

      * * *

      Dylan met her at the door, stylish, freshly showered and shaved. Not a surprise; he even managed to make sweaty and dirty at the barn look good. What was a surprise was the table setting. Dylan had obviously put some thought into setting the table for two. There were two lit candles on the table that caught, and held, her attention.

      “Now that you’re here, I’m going to throw the salmon on the grill. You said you liked salmon, right?”

      Mackenzie slipped her tote off her shoulder. “Yes...”

      “Make yourself at home and I’ll be right back. Unless you want to keep me company...?”

      “No.” Instead of putting the tote down, Mackenzie clutched it to her body. “I’ll wait here.”

       I’m on a date.

      Panic. Sheer unadulterated panic. Mackenzie quickly texted Ray: I’m on a DATE!

      Ray shot a text back: Told U so! Yippee!

      “Yippee? That’s the sage advice I get?” Mackenzie turned the phone on Vibrate and tucked it into her pocket.

       Now what?

      Should she leave or should she stay...that was the ultimate question.

      “All right...” Dylan reappeared and headed for the fridge. “I hope you like sweet red wine...?”

      Mackenzie nodded. She was still trying to figure out how to back out of this situation gracefully. Could she fake a stomachache? Menstrual cramps? It’s not that she didn’t want to be on a date with Dylan per se...she didn’t want to be on a date with anyone. Relationships took time and energy and she had very little of both СКАЧАТЬ