Читать книгу The Magic Of Mistletoe - Carolyn Hector - Страница 12

Chapter 3

The pot of coffee finished percolating at the same time someone knocked softly on the door. Macy stopped briefly on the bottom step in the waiting room and glanced at the grandfather clock chiming away at four in the morning. Since the kids were spending Thanksgiving with their father and his family this holiday season, she’d stayed at work last night. She slept in her old bedroom, curled up with anticipation for her day with Duke Rodriguez. Fortunately, Serena was going to act as a buffer.

Macy had awoken thirty minutes ago. And what a wasted thirty minutes it was. Not only had the Wainwrights rejected her latest designs she had bike-messengered over last night, she’d spent the first minutes trying to figure out if each pair of jeans she had in the closet of her bedroom made her look too bulky. When did she ever worry about her clothes? First thing in the morning and Duke already flustered her. Ten minutes ago, she’d settled on a pair of dark-washed jeans, comfy gray furry boots and an oversize long-sleeve gray shirt.

Cutting into the silence of the early-morning hours of the house was another knock. Macy literally stood still until the third knock, still debating whether or not she would greet Duke at the door before or after her first sip of coffee, or even let him in. She decided on the latter and opened the door. Sexy Santa greeted her with his usual ho-ho-ho greeting, which made her grin as she did so.

“Good morning,” she said sweetly. Her fingers twisted the scrunchie wrapped around the doorknob and maneuvered the band to her wrist.

Duke Rodriguez filled the doorway with the essence of a man. Macy braced herself against the door’s frame to stabilize herself from her weakening knees. He wore another pair of well-fitting jeans that hung low enough on his hips, a black V-neck T-shirt and a pair of classic wheat Timberland boots. The front part of his shirt was tucked into his jeans, showing off the obvious silhouette of his washboard abs. His face had a slight morning stubble, which made him look even more rugged. His mouth opened wide as he smiled at her. “And good morning to you!” he said cheerfully.

“I didn’t think you’d really come.” Macy held the door wider. “Come on in, the coffee just finished brewing.” She braced her back against the door, watching him stroll inside, and then pressed the door closed with the weight of her body. “You drink coffee, don’t you?” she asked, walking past him. While she twisted and secured her hair into a high ponytail with the tie around her wrist, she listened for his heavy footsteps following her into the kitchen.

“I’m Dominican,” Duke said with a heavily accented, matter-of-fact yet pompous tone.

He was Dominican? As if that was an answer! Of course she knew of his Dominican heritage. Duke put the “Spang” in Spanglish, flipping from English to Spanish at the drop of a hat depending on the person he was interviewing, typically making grown women swoon. Macy groaned inwardly when she realized that it seemed as if she knew everything about him.

He was Pablo’s best friend.

He was Gia’s major crush.

Macy knew just about everything there was to know about the man, whether she wanted to or not. She knew he was born and raised in Mao, a city in the province of Valverde, played baseball well enough to earn him a scholarship to the States, played with the Yankees for a while and then used his major in broadcast journalism to become a sportscaster, landing him his major break as a serious journalist during the 9/11 attacks. Duke’s voice had brought her out of a dark time in her life.

The 2001 attacks had sent Macy into a depression. Having lost her journalist parents, who died in a car accident heading to cover the aftermath of the World Trade Center bombing, Macy stayed up night and day watching the coverage. Had her parents been alive, they’d no doubt have injected themselves into the report as well, the thought of which, crazy as it was, infuriated Macy once again. Their desire to cover the news had always overshadowed staying at home and raising their little girl. But there was something about the way Duke reported the news, the way he let his genuine emotions out, that struck a chord with her. Without having old video of her parents reporting, Macy had never felt the bond. Duke stood in front of the rubble and as he helped the people surrounding him, he helped her see the human side of a reporter and somehow forgive her parents. Sometimes she felt she owed Duke everything.