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‘Put that low-life swine Mac on the phone.’
Mrs Devlin’s bitterness threatened to burn a hole right through the receiver. Jo managed to swallow. ‘I’m sorry, but he’s not available at the moment. Can I take a message?’
‘What do you mean, he’s not there? He should be working! And who the hell are you, my girl? His fancy woman?’
Wow. Just...wow! ‘My name is Jo Anderson and I’m Mac’s housekeeper—not his girlfriend. I don’t appreciate the insinuation and nor do I deserve your rudeness.’
The sudden silence almost deafened her. ‘He doesn’t deserve the luxury of a housekeeper,’ Mrs Devlin said, though her voice had lost the worst of its edge. ‘He doesn’t deserve a moment of peace.’
Jo dragged a hand through her hair. If Mac had been bearing the brunt of this woman’s bitterness then no wonder he’d been driving himself so hard. She saw it then, in that moment—Mac was punishing himself. He refused to notice the glorious views, he refused to engage in physical activity he found pleasurable, he shut himself off from the things he loved, like his car, his brother...his cooking.
Oh, Mac.
‘He needs to send more money. Tell him that. Where is he anyway?’
‘He’s out walking the dog.’ Not that it was any of her business.
‘He has a dog?’ Outrage laced her words.
‘It’s my dog. And, Mrs Devlin?’ she said, before the other woman hung up. ‘I... Look, Mac is working so hard he’s in danger of becoming ill.’
‘He should suffer!’ the other woman yelled down the line. ‘He should suffer the way he’s made other people suffer!’
Such venom. She understood Mrs Devlin’s fear and concern for her son. She understood her fighting for the very best care he could get. But to blame Mac like this? It was wrong. So wrong.
To say as much would be pointless. Mrs Devlin didn’t want to listen to reason. Not yet. But what if she was to become afraid that the cash cow might dry up?
Jo hauled in a breath, wishing her stomach would stop churning. ‘If Mac does become ill, Mrs Devlin, the money for Ethan’s care will dry up.’
‘How dare you—?’
‘All I’m doing is stating facts. You want Mac to suffer—that much is clear—but if he does get sick he won’t be able to earn money.’ Certainly not the kind of money they were talking about here. ‘My job is to make sure he eats three square meals a day and gets out into the fresh air for some exercise. Basically, I just nag him. I doubt he enjoys it.’
But even after only a few days of this routine Mac was starting to look better.
‘What are you trying to say to me?’ the other woman asked stiffly.
‘What I’m saying is that, for the moment at least, you need to choose between your desire for revenge and your son’s care. If you choose the latter then I suggest you ease up on the venom for a bit.’
The phone was slammed down.
‘Well...’ She grimaced at the receiver before setting it back in place. ‘That went well.’
* * *
Mac stomped across the fields. What on earth had possessed him to kiss Jo? From the first moment he’d clapped eyes on her he’d sensed that she’d be dynamite, that given half a chance she’d blow his life apart.
He clenched his hands to fists. That couldn’t happen from a single kiss.
Except it hadn’t been a single kiss but a full-on necking session that had hurtled him back to his teenage years, when he’d first discovered girls and sex. Kissing Jo had shaken him to his absolute foundations.
Bandit barked and spun in a circle—first one way and then the other. ‘Okay, okay,’ he grumbled, moving towards the sand dunes. ‘Go for a swim, then.’
Bandit didn’t need any further encouragement. Mac settled at the same spot where he and Jo had sat yesterday and raked both hands back through his hair. Okay, so those kisses had rocked his foundations, but they hadn’t toppled them. As long as he didn’t kiss her again he’d be fine.
He gave a low laugh. Kiss her again? The look she’d flung at him before she’d flounced into the house had told him she’d squash him like a bug if he so much as tried. Man, how he’d like to take up that challenge—to make her sheath her claws, to stroke her until she purred and—
He swore. She made him want all the things he’d turned his back on—all the things he couldn’t have.
Bandit, damp and sandy, raced up the beach to fling himself at Mac, leaping onto his lap and covering his face in sloppy dog kisses. The show of affection took Mac off guard, but he put his arms around the dog and held him close. It was a warm body, and at that moment Mac found he needed a warm body.
