The Mighty Quinns: Mac. Kate Hoffmann
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passion in your life. And a few really good orgasms. I think this Mac guy is the answer to all your problems.”
“Let’s say I do decide that I want to pursue something...carnal with Mac,” Emma said. “I have to be ready to do it. I mean, it could happen quickly, right? Sometimes, the passion is so overwhelming you just can’t help yourself.”
“Sometimes,” Trisha agreed.
“So, I should buy some sexy underwear and do the whole wax thing. And a mani and a pedi. I’ll get my hair cut, too, so I don’t look like a demented bear the morning after. Oh, and I have to be ready to provide breakfast if he stays the night. I’ll have to plan a menu. And I probably should brush up on...you know...sex.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“We have a whole section of books in the library in our self-help section. They’re quite informative. I expect he’s going to be good at it, so I’d like to return the favor.”
“There is a possibility that you might be overanalyzing this,” Trish said. “I’ll be honest with you, once you start taking off your clothes, there’s not a lot of time to think.”
“Great advice,” Emma murmured. She reached out and restarted the car, then pulled it back out onto the road. She gripped the wheel with white-knuckled fingers, her mind spinning with the possibility that her long ordeal might be over soon.
There were some women who chose to be virgins until they married. But Emma knew she’d never marry. And sex was something that she wanted to experience, a simple human need that had to be satisfied.
“There is another option,” Trisha said. “I was reading an article a couple weeks ago about a brothel in Nevada that had men on the menu. You could always pay for it. For the right price, I bet Joey would consider it.”
“You’re offering up your husband?” Emma asked.
“Not to you,” Trish said. “Besides, you’re looking for a perfect male specimen, not a guy with a furry chest and the body of a teddy bear.” She shrugged. “What can I say? I find the man incredibly sexy. And he’s always been so enthusiastic in the sack. And he’s got the goods.”
“Thank you for your generous offer, but I’m going to have to refuse. But I will buy you lunch.”
As they drove toward town, past pastures and vast irrigated fields, the windows of the car open to the afternoon breeze, Emma felt happy, as if the future had suddenly opened up in front of her. There weren’t many days when she didn’t think about the lack of passion and adventure in her life. But today, she was different. There was an excitement that burned inside her...a delicious anticipation that her life was about to change.
* * *
MAC STARED UP at the facade of the San Coronado Public Library. A bronze plaque beside the door designated the neoclassical building as an Andrew Carnegie library, one of over a thousand built by the wealthy industrialist in the early part of the twentieth century in small towns all over the US.
Though he’d been asking J.J. about Emma since he’d met her the day before yesterday, the most he’d been able to pull out of the other man was that she was the town librarian and that everyone loved her. He didn’t really need much more. She’d most likely be inside and when she saw him, they’d talk.
He smoothed his hand through his hair, then took the steps two at a time. As he opened the front door, two younger boys slipped inside before him and he noticed a crowd gathered in the lobby. Mac had expected a quiet interior where people spoke in hushed tones. But instead, the place was bustling with noise and activity.
Scattered about was a display of model cars and trucks, made from the kits he’d enjoyed as a kid. Mac smiled as he wandered around the room, remembering the times he’d spent meticulously piecing each model together, then painting it. It was one of the after-school activities at the local Boys and Girls Club. After the disappearance of his parents, he’d been put into the foster care program and had spent most afternoons at the club, finishing his homework and working on models with a few friends.
The models had kept him off the streets and out of the gangs. And when he finished one, he’d gather up the money he made on his paper route and buy another. They’d been stacked from floor to ceiling in their boxes, tucked inside his closet.
On the day he’d turned eighteen, he’d packed his bags and walked away from foster care, leaving the cars and the memories of his boyhood behind. In a single day, he’d become a man, wholly responsible for his own life. He could no longer busy himself with childish things.
He’d found a job, a cheap room at a local boardinghouse and had begun his life, scraping together money for flying lessons and a few classes on engine repair. He taught himself to weld and though he couldn’t afford college, he’d gotten a library card and begun to educate himself.
“It’s a ’57 Chevy! Not a ’56. See?”
He glanced down at a young boy who was pointing at a model. “You’re right. You can tell by the trim. But I prefer the ’56. There’s just something about it. The softer fin or the trim piece that curves down.”
The little boy smiled. “I prefer it, too.”
“We both have excellent taste.” Mac winked at him, then moved on through the crowd to the circulation desk. He scanned the counter for Emma’s pretty face, but didn’t find her. He decided to get a library card first and make a casual inquiry about Emma at the same time.
“I’d like to get a library card,” he said to the woman at the front desk.
“Do you have identification?”
“I do, but it doesn’t have my local address on it.”
“Do you have a utility bill or something to prove you’re a resident of San Coronado?”
“I don’t,” he said.
“Anyone who could vouch for you?”
“Yes. Emma Bryant could. I understand she works here.”
The woman smiled. “She does.”
“Is she working today?”
“Yes, she’s downstairs in our archives cataloguing some items that were bequeathed to the library last week.”
Mac took the form. “I’ll just go get her signature and be right back.”
“Down the hall and through the door on the right, then down the stairs,” the librarian said.
As he followed the directions, Mac felt an odd rush of anticipation. Women had always been a commodity in his life. Though he appreciated each for their individual attributes, Mac found it difficult to make any long-lasting connections.
When the time was right, he made sure he was the one who walked away first. There had been a few women who had been difficult to leave, but he could never truly believe they had any kind of future together. Without trust, any deeper emotions were impossible.
He already knew ending things with Emma would be painful. He was already obsessed with her. She was unique, intriguing, wildly sexy and smart—a deadly combination. It would take a careful approach to charm her, a disciplined plan to hold her and every ounce of his determination to leave her.
The basement of the library was dark and musty and he followed the sound of music through the rows of shelves and storage cabinets. Finally, he reached a central area of tables illuminated by florescent lights. Mac stood in the shadows and observed her for a moment, taking in the scene in greater detail.
An old gramophone sat on one end of the table and it played a classical piece that sounded like a Mozart string quartet. Emma was seated with her back to him, her legs tucked up beneath her, her attention fixed on a paper she was reading.
The dark waves of her hair fell around her face and his fingers twitched as he imagined how it would feel to smooth a curl from