Pretense (57 page)

Her own apartment. It wasn't the same as living on base by herself. This was her very own, with only the lease to keep track of and not her term of service with the United States Army. It had been a good three years. She wouldn't have traded them for anything. But she was glad to be done, and the apartment helped with that. She could stay as long as she liked. It was quite a ways from Tom's place, but right now that was the only drawback.

Mackenzie sat in her desk chair and thought about Sunday afternoon. They had been in Tom's condo, sitting on the sofa and talking, but when the talking stopped, things grew very

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intense for the first time. Mackenzie hadn't objected, but Tom had called a halt to things before they had a chance to go very far.

"You don't love me, Mackenzie; I can feel that you don't. You care and so do I, but if we do this, it's going to ruin the friendship we have right now. I'm not willing for that to happen. Someday the time might be right, but not now. Later on I'll be sick that I didn't follow my heart, but right now we can't go any farther."

Mackenzie had not been pleased. She hid it, but she had been irritated. Now she was nothing but relieved. She didn't love Tom-not like she thought love should be. She cared for him more than anyone in the area right now, but that wasn't love. On the sofa she had just been carried away with sensation. Her mother would have called it lust. Mackenzie was working on pushing the painful subject of her mother away when the phone rang. Knowing only a few people had her number, she picked it up with a smile. It had to be Delancey or Tom.

"I'm sorry but you have the wrong number," she told the person who wanted to order a pizza from her, but the thought of food reminded her that she hadn't started anything for supper. Tom had given her a cookbook for her birthday, but she wasn't in the mood to try anything. She was brushing her hair with plans to go out when someone knocked at the door. Tom was no more inside before he took Mackenzie in his arms and kissed her soundly.

"Well, now," Mackenzie gasped. "Hello to you too."

"I just booked a room at the Alexandria for us," he whispered softly, and Mackenzie stiffened.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. You see, Mr. Paxton Hancock wants to meet Mr. Mac Walker in the morning."

Mackenzie gripped the arms that were holding her. "Are you serious?"

"Yes! He tried to stay calm, but I've never seen him so severe."

"Severe? What does that mean?"

"Haven't you ever seen Pax when he's working? When he's thinking, all smiles and banter fade away. He almost looks mad."

"So what does that mean?"

"He'll have to tell you."

"So you didn't tell him?"

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"Nope. I'm doing everything I can to protect you, Mackenzie, just as I promised. By meeting at the Alexandria, I can talk with him without anyone listening, and then when the time is right, you can come out of the bedroom."

"Oh, my," Mackenzie breathed. This was such a surprise. Somewhere along the line she had completely panicked. She had told Tom to go get her book and bring it back, but he had talked her out of it, deciding instead to go with whatever she wanted. Her list had been long but not unreasonable. She never wanted to be known as Mackenzie Bishop. Tom and Paxton could tell no one who Mac Walker really was. If anyone was to be told, Mackenzie would do the telling. She would never come to their office for anything but children's books, and if word ever leaked out, she was through with IronHorse forever.

And amazingly enough, Tom believed Paxton would agree to all of it. Tom knew of several other writers who worked with nom de plumes, and no one thought anything of it. In times of doubt, Mackenzie told herself she was arrogant, that no one would read her book anyway. But on the off-chance that it was a success, she had to protect herself. The evening with Carson Walcott was still fresh in her mind.

"What if he's mad?" Mackenzie voiced the horrifying thought.

"He won't be. It's the same as when I wanted to meet you, Mackenzie. If I hadn't wanted the Micah Bear book, I would have given it back to Paxton and that would have been the end of it. He would have done the same with
Access Denied.
Editors don't have time to make long apologies. He's obviously interested in the book. Now, the details I can't tell you, but he wouldn't ask to meet with you just to say, 'No thanks.'"

"All right."

Tom gave her a hug, but she was doubting her "all right" almost as soon as she said it. The next morning, when she stood in the bedroom of the suite Tom had booked, she was sure she was anything but all right. Indeed, "sick to the stomach" was the only description that fit. She had stood for a time and tried to listen to the conversation in the other room, but that had made it worse. She had sat at the table and started a note to her sister. When Tom opened the door and asked her to come out, she nearly jumped from her skin.

Telling herself not to run away, she forced her legs to move toward the door. She walked just five steps into the other room

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and stopped. Paxton, who had been on the sofa, stood slowly, almost like a doll on strings.

"Mackenzie?"

He looked thunderstruck and her heart sank.

"Please don't hate me, Pax. I know better than anyone how much you hate it when aspiring writers bother you. I just had this story, and then Tom thought it was good. I-" but she couldn't go on. Her hand came to her face and she didn't see Paxton when he came toward her, but went with him when he led her to the sofa.

"I'm sorry," she said at last.

"Sorry is the last thing you should be." Paxton's calm voice broke through her misery, and she looked at him. "I've known there was more to you from the day we met, Mackenzie. I just didn't know what."

"Oh, Pax," she breathed, still upset. "I never wanted to deceive you or pretend to be someone else. It's just that my privacy is so important."

"Tom explained all of that to me, and I understand completely. You'd probably be amazed at the authors I protect."

Mackenzie just stared at him.

"Where did you get that story? No, don't answer that." He looked down at the floor. "Now that I know who wrote it, it makes complete sense. Only someone who's been at the Pentagon would know some of what you wrote. And the characters-they're so believable, the way they respond and think, and even their physical abilities. There was nothing supernatural or unbelievable." Paxton realized he'd been rambling. He looked up at the dark- haired author and grinned. "Mackenzie, darlin', I'm gonna make you a star."

She laughed, not knowing he was very serious. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that IronHorse is frothing at the mouth to publish this book. I thought Hank Darwell would have a fit."

Mackenzie's eyes grew. "You discussed this with your editor-in-chief?"

"He read it and called me in the middle of the night."

Mackenzie started to stand, but Paxton caught her arm.

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"Sit down, Mackenzie. I suspected a pen name, so it's all been very hush-hush. You don't need to worry about it. He won't care who wrote it as long you sign the contract."

"What contract?" She looked suspicious. It was all happening so fast.

Paxton went to his briefcase, and Mackenzie chanced a look at Tom, who was wisely staying in the background but still strongly resembling the Cheshire Cat. Paxton came back with the document. Paper-clipped to the top was a check.

"You know the routine, Mackenzie: half on signing the contract and half on receipt of the manuscript, but the book is done, so the check is in full."

Mackenzie looked at the amount. There had to be some kind of mistake. She looked up into Paxton's face.

"I could tell you how good the book is, Mackenzie, but I think the check does that. I wasn't certain you wouldn't be one of my regular writers sitting here and having a joke on me, but on the chance that I was really going to meet a man by the name of Mac Walker, I had to come prepared so he would know we mean business."

Mackenzie was speechless.

"It's a fabulous book, Mackenzie. There's no other way to say it. To be honest with you, I've never read such a good one that had no sex or swearing in it, but I couldn't put the dumb thing down."

"And will IronHorse want sex and swearing, Pax? Because if that's the case, I'm not interested. They wouldn't add anything to the story, and you know me well enough to know that's not my style."

"Yes, I do know you, and no, nothing like that will be added. I want to edit it and work on some of the grammar, but the story and your characters won't change much, if at all."

"And you're not mad?"

"No, I understand why you did it this way."

"Do you really understand how important my privacy is to me, Pax? I can walk away from this right now if you can't keep it quiet for me. I swear to you I can."

Paxton smiled. This was the Mackenzie he knew, the woman whose convictions were bigger than she was, whose chin came out when she was upset and whose eyes made you tremble with doubt or passion.

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"I can do this for you. No problem. There are some legal hoops to go through-Uncle Sam must have his due-but no one needs to know that Mac Walker is Mackenzie Bishop."

Mackenzie started to relax. This was Paxton and Tom-they were her friends. And right now it looked as though her dream was really going to happen: She was going to be a novelist. Just the week before she'd been looking in the want ads for work. Now she had some.

"What happens now?" she asked.

"You go over this contract. Tom, when do we have to be out of here?"

"I booked for two nights since I wasn't sure I'd even get her out of the bedroom. We have all day."

"Good. Let's go over this one item at a time. It's a little different than the other contracts you've had with us, and I want to make sure you understand it all."

"But the check is actually mine?"

Paxton took it from under the clip and handed it to her.

"Thank you, Pax."

"Thank
you,
Mackenzie. You don't by any chance have any more stories up your sleeve, do you?"

"I started one Monday," she answered matter-of-factly, causing Paxton to laugh in disbelief.

"You're kidding?"

"No."

"What's it called?"

"Seahorse."

"Good title. What's it about?"

Mackenzie started to tell him but stopped. While trying to control her nerves in the other room, she had written a teaser paragraph for Delancey. She went to her purse now, dug out the deposit slip she'd been writing on the back of, and brought it to Paxton. She let him read it.

The plans were important, not just

important, vital, and not just to the

United States, but to the entire civilized

world. Monty Forester had to find the

link, but the clues were small. If he

moved too fast, he could miss them
-
too

slowly and it would be too late. He knew

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only one thing, had only one lead.

If he could uncover the path, it would

surely lead him to the

Seahorse.

Paxton sat back and let his head drop against the seat. "Mercy, woman," he said softly, "you've been sitting in my back pocket for how many years, and I never knew it." He lifted his head and looked at her. "Were you doing this when we met?"

"I'd have to look back on my calendar, but I think it was about the same time." Mackenzie suddenly smiled. "I do remember the night you called me and told me you had met Jodi. I'd been writing that scene around the Eiffel Tower and had a hard time getting into our conversation."

"That was a great scene." Paxton was grinning as well.

"Thank you."

"How long do you think it will take to write
Seahorse?"

"I don't know. I had to do
Access Denied
after work and on weekends. That's why it took more than two years, but I'm out of the Army now."

"I didn't know that."

"Yes, I have an apartment in Alexandria."

"So you could write full-time?"

"Yes, if I wanted to."

"Don't you want to?" Paxton asked so comically that both Tom and Mackenzie laughed.

It was the very note they needed. Tom gave Mackenzie a hug and ordered some food, Mackenzie used the bathroom and took a moment to compose herself, and Paxton went to the table to set out the contract for their meeting. He'd been in this business a long time, and he knew what the market was hungry for. Mackenzie Bishop, alias Mac Walker, was going to top the bestseller list in the first six months. Paxton Hancock was ready to bet his career on it.