“Keep going.”
Mack complied with her demand, resuming his dedicated thrusts. Lights flashed in her mind, a storm nearing its culmination. She strained toward the peak, and shocks and vibrations shuddered through her body. Her release was glorious, seemingly infinite, and she wanted Mack to join her. She sucked Mack’s forefinger into her mouth, taking it deep, and then Mack was jerking backwards, coming hard in a handkerchief that had appeared from nowhere.
She had barely straightened before Mack was holding her, pressing her into the bookshelf as he smoothed her dress down. He took his time rebutting her top, pausing to stroke her tender, aching breasts that craved all of his attention. His power over her body was undeniable.
At last, she lifted her head from his chest and met his gaze. “I love you.”
His dimple, his stupid, beautiful dimple appeared. “And I love you.”
Her gaze narrowed on a small angry red mark on his forehead. “The book got you?” Rubbing his forehead ruefully, he nodded. “We always somehow manage to have a misadventure, don’t we?”
“We do. But you know what I think?”
She shook her head, unable to speak, completely enraptured by the soft love radiating from his eyes.
“A life without misadventures, without Winnifred West, wouldn’t be a life at all.”
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
Winnie leaned close to the parlor mirror of Mack’s new bungalow in Queen Anne and double-checked her coiffure. She was attempting a new pompadour Rhoda had suggested, and it was as likely to fall about her shoulders as it was to stay in the pins. Today, she wanted to look her absolute best. A full evening was planned to the last detail, and it needed to be perfect. Mack deserved perfection.
“All right, Winnie,” she said to her reflection. “This is the big one. You’re scared, but you can do it. You’re a published newspaperwoman, after all.Nothingcan be so scary as staring down a boardroom full of disinterested gentlemen.”
“Who are you talking to?”
She yelped and jumped backwards. As she had feared, a lock of hair tumbled from its pins. She thrust it back from her forehead and gave Mack, standing in the parlor doorway, an exasperated frown. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“I hardly sneaked. You were very absorbed in your outer monologue. Care to share?”
He kept one hand behind his back and used the other to prop the parlor door open for propriety’s sake, though she wasn’t sure who he thought he was fooling. Mack had only been in the new house for a month, and his meager staff, comprised of a driver and a cook, had learned to melt into the shadows the moment Winnie arrived. She would be embarrassed if she weren’t grateful for their discretion. “Later. You look like you’re hiding something I might want.”
“Indeed, I am.” Mack revealed a thin magazine with a flourish. “Look what arrived.”
Before he could utter another syllable, Winnie shrieked and snatched it from his hands. Every thought, every carefully laid plan, flew from her head as her gaze roved the front page ofVotes for Womenwith rising excitement.
“It’s finally here.” She danced a jig around the room, hugging the paper to her chest. “I can hardly believe it’s real.”
Mack chuckled and moved to stand beside the still-bare mantle. “Want me to pinch you? There are a few spots I’d love to get my fingers on.”
“Don’t you dare.” She shimmied past without sparing him a glance. She would humor himaftershe had read her every word. The Washington Equal Suffrage Association’s first publication demanded no less. The eight-page edition might be considered brief, but it was the most important work she had ever been involved in. She hugged it again and then loosened her grip with a gasp. Had she crinkled it beyond repair?
“Where can I lay this flat?” She glanced around the mostly unfurnished parlor before shrugging and lowering to the floor. She spread the newspaper before the chaise and tucked her skirts around her.
Flipping through the sheets, she tapped an article on page four. “Here’s my contribution.”
He paused beside her and peered over her shoulder. “Well done, Bobcat.”
She craned her neck to blow him a kiss before returning to the paper. A moment later, Mack handed her a gin martini and sat on the chaise behind her. She alternated between sipping and humming a victorious tune as she read.
“Should I be offended you’re more excited about this publication than what you’ve accomplished in the last year at thePost?”
“Darling, you know that isn’t true.” She patted his brown leather boot. “Have I not demanded a celebratory box of macarons for every published article? We’ve practically paid Henri’s Patisserie a full month’s rent by this point.”
Mack traced the curve of her neck with a light touch. “A worthy expenditure. Read your fill, and then I’ll get the scissors.”
She tossed an exasperated look over her shoulder. “You and your scrapbook.”
