Free Messing With Mac by Jill Shalvis

“Mac…”
    A disparaging sound escaped her. “I’m trying to say I’m…”
    Mac cocked his head, studying the uncomfortable Taylor with curiosity. “You’re trying to say…what?”
    â€œI just wanted to…” She held her breath, then let out a huff and turned in a slow circle while Mac waited.
    Something was sticking in her craw, but what, he had no idea. Unless…oh yeah. She was trying to apologize. What was so interesting about that was that she looked as if she might choke over it. “Problem?” he asked, suddenly feeling like smiling.
    â€œNo. I just wanted to say…”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI’m sorry. ” She glared at him as if this was all his fault. “I’m sorry if Liza came onto you and made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry you had to deal with her on the job. It was unfair and…and…”
    â€œAnd you’re sorry.” He grinned now, because who would have known she could look adorable. “That was pretty tough, huh? Using the s-word?”
    â€œIt’s even harder with you laughing at me,” she said, adding a look of daggers.
    â€œOh, no, I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you.” But he kept on grinning, which pretty much made smoke come out her ears.
    Her eyes were twin pools of fire. And her body language, hands fisted on her hips, shoulders back, head up… Battle ready, she was, no doubt.
    Call him sick, but he liked it, he liked to see her temper flare, though he was quite certain he’d be risking certain death to admit such a thing to her. “I don’t suppose you’d try to say it again, so I can watch you squirm some more?”
    â€œYou’re a bastard, you know that?”
    â€œYep,” he told her back as she stalked off. “I’ve definitely heard that one before.”
    Stopping, Taylor slowly turned back to face him.
    She’d barely been able to resist the urge to put her hands on her hips and stomp her feet like a child at the sight of Liza snuggled up to him, but that would be churlish, even childish.
    And certainly she had amused him enough al ready.
    But nobody laughed at her, nobody.
    And yet there he stood, hair blowing in the breeze, eyes lit with good humor—at her expense—his long, lean, rangy body relaxed as can be.
    That even now she could look at him and feel aspark, feel a need to launch herself against him and hold on tight, really burned.
    â€œWatch your pretty sandals there, Princess,” he said, pointing to where she stood, which was next to his hose. The water had started to pool.
    That it was still morning didn’t matter in the summertime heat of Southern California. She hadn’t even realized how hot she was until the chilled water lapped over her toes.
    She eyed the hose. Eyed Mac.
    â€œDon’t even think about it,” he said in a warning tone that cooked her goose all the way to finish.
    â€œOh, I’m thinking about it.” She’d do more than think. Very carefully she set her hat down on the grass. She loved that hat and didn’t want it to get wet like Mac was going to. He was going to get very wet.
    â€œTaylor,” he said in that low, gruff, thrillingly sexy voice.
    But not only did no one laugh at her, no one told her what to do.
    Ever.
    Before she knew it, she’d picked up the hose and turned it on him, hitting him full in the chest.
    The water was cold, which, she supposed, explained his yelp. Or it might have to do with the fact she lowered her aim just a bit.
    The sound that escaped him now was a definite growl, a growl that signified an upcoming battle.
    Half horrified, half exhilarated, she continued to hold the hose on him and stepped closer.
    It knocked him back a step, and a group of people who’d come out of the ice-cream shop across the street whooped and hollered.
    Mac ignored them, grinning a wholly evil grin at her that made her