Vision in White
Page 20

“I’ll walk you to your car.” He took out bills, tucked the ends under the saucer of his cup.
Before she could shrug into her jacket, he’d taken it to help her into it. He opened the door for her, stepped out with her into the breathless cold.
“I’m a block and a half down,” she told him. “You don’t have to walk me to my car. It’s freezing out here.”
“It’s fine. I walked from my place anyway.”
“You walked?”
“I don’t live that far, so I walked.”
“Right. You like to walk. Since we are,” she said as they walked by cafes, restaurants, “I’ll mention something that got bypassed due to the path our conversation took. Dr. Maguire? You got your PhD?”
“Last year, finally.”
“Finally?”
“Since it was the major focus of my life for about ten years, ‘finally’ works for me. I started thinking thesis when I was an undergraduate.” Which probably made him Mayor Nerd of Nerdville, he supposed. “Are you going to see me again? I know that was a non sequitur but it’s buzzing around in my brain. So if the answer’s no, I’d rather find out.”
She said nothing until they’d reached the car, then studied him as she pulled out her keys. “I bet you have a pen and something to write on. I bet it’s pretty handy.”
He reached under his coat to the inside of his tweed jacket for a small notebook and pen.
With a nod, Mac took them, flipped to a blank page in the book. “This is my personal line, rather than my business line. Why don’t you call me?”
“I can do that. An hour from now’s probably too soon, isn’t it?”
She laughed, put the notebook and pen back in his hand. “You certainly boost my ego, Carter.”
She turned to open her door, but he beat her to it. Touched and amused, she got in, let him close the door behind her. She lowered her window. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Get out of the cold, Carter.”
When she pulled away from the curb, he watched her car until the taillights disappeared. Then he doubled back toward the coffee shop and walked the frigid three blocks beyond it, to home.
THE BRIEF JANUARY BUSINESS LULL GAVE MAC TOO MUCH TIME on her hands. She knew she could use it to organize her files, to update her various web pages. To clean out the embarrassing mess that was her closet, or to catch up on neglected correspondence. She could use it to read a good book, or fat-ass in front of the TV and gorge on DVDs and popcorn.
But she couldn’t settle, and so ended up plopping down on the loveseat in Parker’s office.
“Working,” Parker said without looking up.
“Contact the media! Parker’s working.”
Parker continued to tap her keyboard. “After this quick break, we’re booked solid for months. Months, Mac. This is going to be our best year. Still, we’ve got two weeks wide open in August. I’m thinking about a summer’s-end package, something that appeals to the smaller wedding. The put-it-together quickly style. We could really push that when we have our open house in March if it doesn’t book before.”
“Let’s all go out.”
“Hmm?”
“Let’s go out. All four of us. Emma probably has a date, but we’ll make her break it and destroy some poor guy none of us know. It’ll be fun.”
Parker stopped typing, swiveled her chair a few inches. “Go out where?”
“I don’t care. The movies, a club. Drinking, dancing, whoring. Hell, let’s rent a limo and go to New York and do it right.”
“You want to rent a limo, go to New York for drinking, dancing, and whoring.”
“Okay, we’ll skip the whoring. Let’s just get out of here, Park. Spend a night doing fun stuff.”
“We have two full consults tomorrow, plus our individual sessions.”
“So what?” Mac threw up her hands. “We’re young, we’re resilient. Let’s go to New York and break the hearts and balls of men we’ve never met before and will never see again.”
“I find that idea oddly intriguing. But why? What’s up with you?”
Mac pushed off the love seat, stalked around the room. It was such a pretty office. So Perfectly Parker, she thought. Soft, subtle color. Elegance and class polished over almost brutal efficiency.
“I’m thinking about a guy who’s thinking about me. And thinking about him thinking about me has me all worked up. I don’t actually know if I’m thinking about him because he’s thinking about me, or if I’m thinking about him because he’s cute and funny and sweet and sexy. He wears tweed, Parker.”
She stopped, threw her hands up again. “Grandfathers wear tweed. Old guys in old British movies wear tweed. Why do I find it sexy that he wears tweed? This is a question that haunts me.”
“Carter Maguire.”
“Yes, yes, Carter Maguire. Doctor Carter Maguire—that’s the PhD type. He drinks tea and talks about Rosalind.”
“Rosalind who?”
“That’s what I said!” Vindicated, Mac spun around. “Shakespeare’s Rosalind.”
“Oh, As You Like It.”
“Bitch, I should’ve known you’d know that. You should go out with him.”
“Why would I go out with Carter? Besides the fact he’s shown no interest in me.”
“Because you went to Yale. And I know damn well that doesn’t apply, but the fact that I’d say it speaks volumes. I want to go out and get crazy. I refuse to sit around waiting for him to call. Do you know the last time I lowered myself to waiting for some guy to call me?”
“Let me see, that would be about never.”
“Exactly. I’m not doing this.”
“How long have you waited in this case?”
Mac glanced at her watch. “About eighteen hours. He had a crush on me in high school. What kind of man tells you that? Puts the power in your hands that way? Now I have the power and it’s scaring me. Let’s go to New York.”
Parker swiveled back and forth in her chair. “Going to New York to drink and break the hearts of strange men will solve your current dilemma?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let’s go to New York.” Parker plucked up the phone. “Go get Laurel and Emma on board. I’ll handle the details.”