Mac's Angels: The Last Dance: A Loveswept Classic Romance by Sandra Chastain

wheelchair.”
    “You’re fine, Sterling. I lifted you, remember?”
    She was fine. All through dinner he’d been reminded how fine. The dress Elizabeth had provided for her was made of a loose-fitting flimsy red material shot with a metallic thread that shimmered in the candlelight. She wore no jewelry, only a single strand of silver woven into the simple twist she’d fashioned at the back of her neck.
    She was round, yes, but it was the kind of gentle softness that a man could cuddle up to and feel safe with. Simple, old-fashioned, and elegant.
    “You’re too concerned about your size,” he added with a smile.
    But she wasn’t concerned, not really, just fluttery with the knowledge that he was interested in her. They were alone, in an intimate setting and they’d shared danger. That was intoxicating. But she thought that it was the situation, not the woman, that intrigued Lincoln McAllister.
    She shook her head, consciously searching for a way to defuse the sexual tension. “Thank you, Mac, but I know what I am. The dinner was wonderful, but I think it’s time we talk about what I’m doing here.”
    In one second she shattered the illusion he’d been building subconsciously throughout dinner. He wondered why he kept straying off into some sensual fantasy. He understood that’s what it was. Fantasy, based on shared risk and loneliness. “Not yet,” hesaid, too abruptly. “We get the facts, analyze them, and formulate our plan. By tomorrow we’ll know more. Tonight we’re simply two people having dinner.”
    Sterling laid her napkin down and studied him. “All right. But I am sorry you missed the wedding. I know how seldom you leave your mountaintop. I know you wanted to be there, since you and Montana are close friends.”
    “We are friends, but I would have been totally out of place at a wedding. Long ago I lost any talent I ever had for making small talk. The wedding was simply an—obligation. I helped Montana once when he needed help. Then he returned the favor by being one of Mac’s Angels to help someone else.”
    “That’s pretty cut-and-dried.”
    “That’s what I am, Sterling. I joke about it, but I’m not a real angel. Don’t give me that kind of credit. What I do is use what I have, to do what I … I can’t do myself.”
    She didn’t believe he was that cold. She’d seen the playful side of him, understood he used humor to cover up real emotion. “And me? Will I be asked to help someone else?”
    “You will,” he said solemnly. “You most certainly will.”
    She sat silent for a moment. “Well, the food was delicious and I appreciate you sharing Mac’s Place with me. But I truly am very tired.”
    The strain in Sterling’s voice made him feelguilty. Having dinner with her had been pleasant. For a time she’d relaxed and forgotten the danger.
    He had enjoyed the company.
    Now she was fading. How long had he been staring at her without seeing? “I’m sorry, Sterling. Guess I’ll have to admit it. I’m not really Bogart; I’m just an ordinary man.”
    She cocked her head to the side. “How’s that? This place certainly isn’t ordinary. What you’ve created here is unbelievable. In fact, I probably ought to be calling you James.”
    “Now, there you have me. James?”
    “As in Bond. 007. You don’t look like him, but if he doesn’t have his American headquarters here, he ought to.”
    Mac grinned in spite of himself. She had a way of making him do that. She wasn’t the first to make that comparison. It wasn’t a personal comparison; it was more a matter of the lengths to which he went to succeed.
    “Well, if I’m 007, who does that make you?”
    “Why Moneypenny, of course. Secretary, assistant, and general nanny. That’s a role I could probably handle.”
    “Perhaps,” he said softly, remembering Sterling’s voice on the phone. “Perhaps Moneypenny would tell me I’m falling behind in my duties.” He stood, dropped his napkin, and pushed Sterling’s