The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,72

tone was serious, but her eyes were laughing with him. It had been a week since they’d cleared out his shed, a week full to the brim of Mackenzie, and he’d had enough of her to know he could never have enough.

She was no walk in the park. She had a temper, and she was impatient. She loved a good debate, and she was competitive, as he’d discovered to his detriment when they played chess last night.

She was also incredibly smart and sharp, and she knew how to laugh at herself and the world, and she was strong, with an inner resilience he was slightly in awe of. He found her face captivating and her small body more so, and when they were in bed—or the living room, or the kitchen, or the shower—he gained enormous pleasure from making her crazy.

In short, he was hooked. And despite his initial misgivings, it didn’t feel like a bad place to be. It felt right. As though it was meant to be.

“It’s probably worth checking the apartment first,” Mackenzie said as she opened the car door. “There’s another filing cabinet in my home office.”

“You have a lot of offices,” he said as he exited the car.

“That’s because I used to work a lot. Early starts. Late finishes. There’s always more to do on a TV production. Auditions to watch, rushes to assess, story lines and scripts to read over. Time and Again is pooh-poohed by some of the more high-brow one-hour dramas, but we produce the equivalent of a feature film every week. Those are no small apples.”

“No, they are not,” he said, nodding, his face serious to let her know he understood the import of what she was saying.

She laughed. “Did I just have a too-many-coffees moment?”

“Not at all. Please, tell me about your plans for world domination.”

She rounded the car and grabbed a fistful of his sweater, pulling him close and kissing him.

“The only thing I plan to dominate around here is you. If you’ll let me.”

“Consider this my white flag,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

He kissed her more thoroughly, his hands slipping beneath her coat. He loved her breasts and he palmed them, teasing her nipples through the thin wool of her top. She gave a small moan, her hips pressing forward.

The sound of a car starting had her stepping back. She gazed up at him, her eyes cloudy with need.

“How do you keep doing that to me?” she asked.

“You started it.”

He was only half-joking. She had only to look at him in a certain speculative way and he could feel himself growing hard.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she said, throwing him just such a look.

He smiled to himself and beeped the car locked, following her to the elevator. She swiped her security pass through the card reader to the right of the control panel, then punched the button for her floor.

The lift transported them smoothly, the doors opening seconds later to reveal plush charcoal carpet and a discreetly lit corridor. He knew enough about Melbourne to understand that South Yarra was a very desirable suburb, situated as it was a stone’s throw from the city center, and he’d already guessed from the exterior of Mackenzie’s building that this was a classy, glossy, expensive place.

A funny little tickle of something he couldn’t quite name itched behind his breastbone as she led him to a shiny black door. She unlocked it, and he followed her into a small foyer that led into a huge, open-plan living and dining area. He took in the sculptural modern furniture, the pieces of art, the bold colors and, most importantly, the view—a no-holds-barred, untrammeled panorama of the Royal Botanic Gardens, lush and green and beautiful—and admitted to himself that he was more than a little intimidated. He’d never doubted for a second that Mackenzie was good at what she did, but this apartment was something else.

“You want something to drink? There’s no milk, but I could make you a black coffee and there should be some mineral water.” She entered the kitchen, a severely modern creation in black granite and stainless steel that opened onto the living area.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

He crossed to the freestanding wall unit that created a screen between the living and dining sections of the room. It was filled with books, their spines a kaleidoscope of colors. He pretended to scan them as he absorbed the fact that it was likely Mackenzie could buy and sell him twice over. He caught himself