'Hi darling?'  Twain was pleasantly surprised to hear Macy calling him.

 'Hey,' Macy answered, 'you busy this evening Twain?'

 'Not for you or my son,' she could hear from his tone, he was smiling.

 'I think Parker would be happy if you popped by,' she suggested.

 'Really?'  

She could hear the elation in Twain's tone.
Macy relayed to Twain how Parker was attempting to source information about his father from the internet.

 'I'm sorry about that,' Twain sighed heavily.  'Macy, I do want to be with Parker and you every day, if you will allow it,' he urged.

 Macy heard the longing in his voice.   'Set our wedding date, Twain.'

Twain was silently stunned, he could not believe his ears.  Finally she was in agreement with him.  He wanted to jump up and do a hop, skip and a jump.

 'Twain?'

 'Two weeks from today Macy, will you be ready?'

Macy inhaled.  She will do this, for Parker's sake.  She will marry him, even if he was only going to marry her for their son's sake.

'Yes,' she confirmed.  'Twain ___ I trust fidelity is something you place a high value on?'

She heard him laugh.  'You have my word, Macy.  I will honour my vows to you, as you will to me,' he ordered.

 Of course.  It goes without saying boss! 

'Yes,' she agreed.
Macy could not believe she was discussing nuptials over the telephone with a man who did not love her and she was mad enough to marry him.

'So you will get here soon ___ before Parker falls asleep?' she added belatedly.

 She heard the smile in his voice.  'I'm coming straight from my office.  Is that okay with you? I don't want to waste time going home to shower.'

 You can shower here with me ...

'You'll do,' she laughed.  'See you just now,' she cut the call, before she begged him to sleep over...in her bed.

 'Hey Parker, you still busy with homework?'  Macy walked into her son's bedroom again, with a big smile on her face.

 'Almost finished mum,' he looked at her curiously.  She seemed in a very good mood today.

'I wanted to talk to you,' Macy smiled.  She lifted Parker of his chair sat down, and drew him onto her lap.  She kissed the top of his head.  He smelt fresh of shampoo and soap.

'Twain and I are getting married,' she informed her son.

He smiled brightly 'All right,' Parker slapped a high five with his mother.   'Will Twain stay here with us?'

 Macy shrugged, 'we may move to his home, it's much huger.'

'Will grandma come with us?  I want her to.'

Macy smiled.  'We will ask her. 'Macy suspected her mum would want to give her and Twain the privacy to build their relationship privately.

'Why can't Twain live here, then I can still play with Brooklyn?'

 How could Macy explain about a man's pride and his need to be the provider?  And Twain had a giant-sized ego.  He would feel indebted to Macy and her family and Twain would not feel comfortable being indebted to anybody.  In Macy's practical home, she and Parker shared a bathroom.  Macy had offered her mum the ensuite master bedroom.  Parker's bedroom did not have enough cupboard space.  Each season, Macy had to store away the unseasonal attire that Parker would not make use of.  Macy's bedroom was also tiny, just sufficient for her needs.  How could they accommodate Twain here?  He probably had five wardrobes.

 Macy heard the doorbell.  Adrenalin surged through her in eager anticipation. 
'That must be Twain,' she stood up.  'You'll be done in five minutes?'

 Parker nodded.  'How about you come down and say "hi" when you finish up?'

 'Okay,' Parker nodded, excitedly.

'You have not showered yet?' Twain grinned taking Macy into his arms.  She was still wearing the attire she had on at the hospital.

'Hi,' she kissed him.  'I shower before I climb into bed,' she murmured and I go to bed, clothed,' she informed him.

Twain laughed, 'you won't when we get married,' his arms wrapped around her possessively, his mouth closing over hers.  Macy sighed pleasurably, her hands cupping his face, as she kissed him back. 

'Macy ___,' he murmured against her lips.  'When we go on honeymoon, can we take Parker with?  I don't want him to feel like I've stolen you away from him.'

Macy looked into his face, her adoration for Twain grew another tenfold.  'That's a most unusual request,' she smiled.  'You know it's not good for Parker to cut school.'

 Disappointment engulfed him.  She was going to say no.

 'It will have to be a short honeymoon then,' she stated.  'I suppose Parker can skip a week of school.'

 'Thank you,' Twain hoisted her up into the air and gently put her down again.

Macy laughed.  He really was the most unusual man.  Most men would want to indulge in their own pleasures during a honeymoon.  She smiled when he lowered his head and kissed her.  After a lengthy kiss, Twain drew away.  'Parker asleep?'

 She shook her head.  'He will be down just now.'

Twain took her hand, leading her into her lounge.  'Will you be free from twelve, tomorrow?'  Twain asked, pointing for her to be seated, so he could.

'Yes,' she nodded.  She had already instructed her assistant to move her schedule around clearing her appointments between twelve and two.  That should give her and Twain sufficient time together.  Excitement rushed through her.  She felt like she was in high school again, sneaking around to neck with a boyfriend.

'Good,' Twain smiled.  'I'll come down to your surgery and we'll ___.'

'Hi Twain,' Parker came flying down the stairs. 

'Hi Parker,' Twain stood up.  He held out his hands. Wanting his son to come rushing into his arms, the way he did with his mum.  Parker accepted Twain's hug, though one could hardly accuse him of demonstrating the same enthusiasm as he did for his mother.

Macy listened to Twain drawing Parker into conversations about school, his homework, sport.  Twain was patient, not presumptuous in any way as he skilfully conversed with his son in a rather laid back manner.  

Macy leaned back against the settee as she observed Twain.  He was so attractive, still in his suit, he looked fresh and alert.  He was comfortably lazing on his settee, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his body angled towards Parker, his arm casually on the back rest of the settee he and Parker shared. 

'My parents would like to meet you,' Twain smiled at his son.  'If it's okay with you and mum, would you care to visit them on Friday evening for dinner?'

Twain had already placed the order with his mum to make sure there was fried chicken and chocolate pudding on the menu.

Parker looked up at his mum.  Macy nodded with a smile.  Parker nodded affirmatively but he leaned forward and whispered to Twain, 'could you tell your mother, I don't like broccoli.'

Twain threw his head back and laughed.  'My mother stopped trying to get me to eat broccoli when I was six years old, so you can rest assured, there won't be any on the table.  Twain made a mental note to remind his mother not to have broccoli on the menu.

'We haven't had dinner yet,' Parker hinted at Twain.

 Twain did not want to disappoint his son, but what if Claudia had not prepared enough for an additional person at the supper table?

 'I'm sure there is enough for you to join us,' Macy resolved Twain's dilemma.

 'Thank you, then I accept,' he winked at Parker.'

Twain stayed for dinner. He was rather entertaining at the table, having Parker, Macy and Claudia in stitches about some of the lighter moments during his stint in Sudan. Reluctantly after about two hours, and after Parker got to stay up an additional hour, Twain bid his family good night.  His parting words to Macy, when she had stepped out to kiss him good night was, "I can't wait for tomorrow."  Neither could Macy, and even though her cheeks flamed from his redolent comments, she refrained from responding.

     For some inexplicable reason, Macy felt she owed Alec some sort of explanation.  Nicky Stone was her best friend since high school, and Alec came a close second to what one would term as a 'close buddy.'  So the next morning Macy found herself knocking on the door of Alec's surgery.

'Oh Your Majesty, my apologies, I have not put out the red carpet for you as yet.'

 'Alec ___ please don't be nasty.'

 'Is it true Mace?'

 It was why she had come to visit him.  She knew he would have heard the rumours.  He was her friend, he had a right to at least hear it from her.

 'Yes,' she murmured.

'When Macy ___ when did Crawford get the opportunity to make you pregnant again?'

'Alec ___ please.'  Twin red spots coloured her cheeks brightly.

 He shook his head sadly, 'five years, I've lived in hope.  I guess I was a fool huh?'  He stood up.  'I should have got the message the first time you said no, but then I thought; I just needed to try harder.'

'I'm sorry Alec.'

Macy was tempted to tell him, he was a wonderful person.  It was not him, it was her, that there was a gorgeous woman out there waiting for him, she suspected he would blow a gasket at those patronizing words. 

 'We were just not meant to be together ___.  Two people should be attracted to each other, we didn't have that.'

'I guess Crawford oozes charm and has bucket loads of charisma,' he shot at Macy.

She looked away uncomfortably. Alec was a wonderful, dependable friend but a sore loser.

 'At least you had the decency to come and inform me, even if I heard it first in the corridor.'

 'I'm sorry,' she apologized again.

 'Will I find somebody like you Mace?'  He wanted to touch her and stopped himself.  'You're  so humble, reliable, dependable, so beautiful... so perfect.'

 'I'm not perfect Alec.  I have my faults, just like the next person.' 

My brain does not function around Twain.  I wish I could be sterner with that big bully.

'Then I wish you luck Mace,' he smiled.  'Crawford better look after you.'

 'Thank you,' she smiled.

 'Do I get a hug?'

'Of course,' she extended her arms to him, breathing a sigh of relief.

Now that was out of the way, Macy could look forward to her lunch time date with Twain.  She was counting down the hours to twelve.  After every patient, Macy was doing a mental calculation of the time.  She felt a shot of adrenalin then at eleven forty five. The nerves in her fingers tingled in anticipation.  Her palms became clammy.  Silently she prayed no emergency would cancel out their plans, guiltily remembering the Hippocratic Oath that bound her and Twain to the call on their lives. 

It was with practised discipline then that she nodded, when at five minutes to twelve, a mother begged for Macy to attend to her four month old baby.  Macy was quickly able to diagnose the colicky baby from the evident symptoms, bringing a relived smile to the mother's face.

'Sorry, I'm late,' she rushed out fifteen minutes later, to find Twain hovering in the corridor.

Twain smiled.  She did not object when he brazenly kissed her cheek.  'At least you did not cancel,' his arm curved around her waist as he led her to his car.

'That last patient was unscheduled,' she smiled apologetically.

 'I was counting the hours,' he kissed her lips, before he opened the passenger door for her.

Macy smiled, not that she was not doing exactly the very same thing.

Twain opened the door and ushered Macy into his home.  They stood in the hallway, his eyes locked with hers turning her body into fire ... sexual tension tinged the air.  Macy saw his chest rise and fall sharply.  Her eyes admired the strong column of his throat, the powerful body, alert, infinitely virile. 

Twain remembered their previous two, times together, her beautiful smile, slender curves, shapely, long limbs wrapped around him.  His fingers touched her shoulders, her arms.  They left a burning trail, everywhere they touched.

Macy's fingers bunched on his shirt.  The sturdy muscles were so much more defined.  Her fingers begged to trace over the lean flesh on his body.  His powerful scent triggered her response....her heart thumped.  Slowly she turned her attention from his chest back to his eyes.  The fever burned between them. She reached up, pressing her lips to his. His growl was low.... his muscles bunched, his pupils huge, his chest rose and fell sharply.

His lips brushed her forehead, her tongue touched his collar bone.  He nuzzled the side of her neck, her head angled, allowing him more access.  Their mouths came together, they kissed ... broke apart and kissed again urgently.  Twain's kiss became gentle as he explored her mouth.  Her fingers explored at his neck, tracing the pulse point.

Macy's shirt was unbuttoned. Twain unzipped her pants and let it drop to her ankles.  He admired her pretty, lace, nude two piece bra and panty. He smiled approvingly.  She stepped out of her pants.

The tips of his fingers brushed her shirt away and next, undid her bra freeing her aching breasts.  She still possessed an athletically flat stomach; her breasts still pert.  She looked sexy.  Once again, his eyes found the tattoo irresistible.  He longed to know what it symbolized.  Macy saw where his eyes were focused; shyly she pulled him to her, her lips brushing his mouth tenderly.

His touch over her shoulders, slowly shifted lower, caressing her breasts, her nipples. His mouth followed the same pattern, with his tongue tracing over her nipples.  She opened her eyes, saw the intensity in his, as he held her against him.  Macy lifted his shirt over his head.

He reached out, his thumb circling her aroused dusty peaks.  His tongue glazed over the sensitive nub, suckling on its tip.  Macy could not contain the strangled sound of ecstasy.

His hands ripped at her briefs, sliding them down.  She was totally naked now.  Twain lifted her into his arms, holding her naked body against his bare chest.  With quick easy strides, he was gently laying her on his bed.

Macy reached out, removing his belt.  She unzipped him with unsteady fingers, slid his trousers and boxers down his muscular thighs.  She longed to run her tongue over his hair roughened thigh.   Twain leaned over her, the fine hairs on his chest, brushing over  her naked skin.  His tongue suckled, his teeth nibbled, at her responsive breasts. Macy clung to him, urging, pleading, groaning for more.

 'Twain   __ I want ___.'

 'Tell me?' he urged huskily.

 'I want __ your mouth __ your tongue__.'

 'Yes?'

 'Oh please don't make me say it,' she begged.

Twain laughed softly, his palm, stoked up her thighs, his fingers running riot on her inner thigh.  Her lower back arched, thrusting towards him.  He placed his palm on her inner thighs, spreading them apart.

Her eyes opened, widened, blazed fiercely.   His lips brushed her inviting thighs, his tongue moving more slowly up, marking a path to her sizzling core with hot breathless kisses.  His tongue darted in and out of her hot moistness, hot, fast, hard, and urgent.

'Twain  ___ Twain!'  Her nails dug into his shoulder.  Her hips began a slow rocking movement.   Macy groaned her pleasure, she wanted the torture to stop...she wanted him inside her.

 Macy had to touch him.  Her hand reached down.  She wanted to feel him throb, feel his body shudder in response, hear his breath catch, his soft groan of helplessness.  She stroked him punishingly. Her thumb caressed the ridged velvety surface, moving over the top, circling around its wetness. 

'Macy!'  He made a guttural sound ... like a cry of agony.

 She was delighted he felt the torture as well.  Her thumb pressed harder.  Her nails gently raked over his erect shaft.  Her hands brought his head up, her mouth lifted, finding his.  Their tongues embraced, locked with hurried urgency.  He moved over her, pressing onto her flat abdomen.  
His tongue caressed her mouth, moved down, over her throat, down past her navel.  His palms gripped her bottom, moulding her to his mouth.  Macy cried out as his tongue began the torture again.  Her hips thrust upwards, he held her down long enough. Macy stroked his silken shaft.  It was rock hard...she felt him shudder; teased the tip of him against her wet heat.  Twain gasped, the sound rung in her ear like an animal in distress.  He held her down, pinning her arms above her head and thrust deeply into her.  

She expelled an involuntarily gasp.  His name tore from her lips. Macy gulped air into her lungs. She freed her hands, clinging to him as he rode her hard and fast, her hips, picked up his rhythm as he thrust deeper and deeper. Swaying to the momentum, she matched his fast powerful thrusts ... until they reached the summit together and were free falling out of the atmosphere.

They were panting breathlessly.  Macy clung to Twain.  Her lips brushed his indulgently before sliding to his shoulder, delighting in his salty flesh as she pressed feathery kisses to his sweat glistened shoulder.  Her satiated eyes shone brightly, her smile lit up her face. Twain gazed into the depths of her soul and thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life.   

 Macy's head was resting on his shoulder, her finger traced over the fine hairs on his chest.  She wondered if it was as good for him as it had been for her.  Her first time with Twain, she had been an inexperienced virgin, yet she had loved every second.  Her second time had been quick and urgent and again totally fulfilling.  Today, her third time, had been out of this world, amazing.  It seemed to just getter better and better with practice.  She smiled to herself, hiding her private analysis.  Macy listened to the erratic beat of Twain's heart.  His eyes were closed, his breathing erratic.  She stayed nestled in his arms for an insurmountable time, her fingers cupping his face.  Twain's palm was smoothly running up and down her spine in feathered movements.

 Macy looked up into Twain's eyes.  'What did you say to Julia, yesterday?'  She whispered.

Twain sighed heavily.  He disliked being the heavy handed boss, but Julia could push anybody to the limits.  'I told her to start earning her salary by working; and to stop her management of the Crawford rumour mill.'

'I'm glad you didn't threaten her with her job.'

 'I thought you'd be happy to be rid of that busybody.'

 Macy shook her head.  'I wouldn't wish for anyone to lose their job,' she murmured.'

 'It's a good thing then, that I am such an awesome boss,' Twain boasted, draping his upper body over hers, making his intentions very clear.

'Twain ___,' her hands clasped his upper arms gently.  'We don't have enough time,' she murmured shyly.  'My next patient is scheduled in thirty minutes.'  She wanted a quick shower and it would take them about fifteen minutes to drive back to the hospital.

'Where did the time go to?  Twain groaned, burying his face between her upright, shapely breasts.

She smiled.  Her fingers raked through his hair.  'May I use your shower?'   Her lips brushed his forehead.

'Only if you tell me about this tattoo,' he bartered, accompanied by a disarming megawatt smile.

Macy managed a bashful smile.  'No,' she whispered, pushing him off her and escaping to his bathroom.

     On Thursday afternoon Macy was taking Parker up to Twain's office.  He had asked again that morning, if his mum could fetch him, so he could go to his father's office.  She had already spoken to Twain an hour ago.  He was eagerly awaiting his son's visit.

 As usual, Carla wanted to play hard ball.  Brave defiance etched in Macy's eyes.  She held Carla's deep resentful, cold and unfathomable glare.  But it was Parker who spoke, when Macy and Carla were engaged in their let's see who will back down first, staring contest.

'I would like to see my father,' Parker announced politely, clutching his mother's hand confidently.

'Excuse me!'  Carla's jaw dropped.

'Dr. Twain Crawford, my father,' Parker emphasized.

Carla's eyes narrowed.  She did not believe it for a second.  Clearly the boy and his mother were delusional, but the mother seemed to be Dr. Crawford's flavour of the week.

'I've told you not to arrive here without an appointment,' Carla glared at Macy.
 'My father said I can visit him anytime I want.  Now open the door,' Parker instructed.
'Calm down sweetheart,' Macy spoke softly to Parker.

Carla was in shock.  Mechanically her hand buzzed Twain, informing him of his visitors.

Twain came rushing to the door, his face lit up at the sight of Parker.  He opened his arms to an eager Parker.

'She is mean to my mum,' Parker pointed to Carla.  'I don't' like her,' the corded muscles stuck out on Parker's throat.

Twain looked quizzically from Carla to Macy.  Carla sunk lower in her chair.  Twain tried to gauge something from Macy's face, but he could read nothing.

'Carla's just doing her job,' Macy murmured to Parker.

 'You should get a new secretary.  She is not nice,' Parker suggested to his dad.

It required much effort for Twain not to looked amused.  He recalled Parker instructing his mother to get a new boss.  The boy did not suffer fools gladly.  He was a Crawford, all right.  Twain draped his arm around Parker's shoulder.  'I shall have a word with Carla, after your visit,' Twain smiled at his son.

Parker laced Carla with a warning glare, before he walked into his father's office.  Twain raised an eyebrow at Macy questioningly, as his other hand reached for hers, but Macy did not utter a single word.  Her son had a fierce temper.  He needed to control that.  He could not just give his father instructions about his secretary.

Twain invited Parker to help himself from the refrigerator.  Parker helped himself to a coke.  Twain offered to order up some lunch for Parker, but he was not hungry.  There were chocolates in Twain's draw.  He opened the drawer, looked at Macy for permission.  She laughed and nodded.  Twain smiled, offering the box to Parker.  He did not refuse the chocolates.

Parker wanted to talk about the wedding.  He wanted it to happen soon.  That made Twain very excited.  They briefly discussed the guest list.   Macy did not want a huge affair.  Twain tried to coax Macy into suggesting a honeymoon location.  She shrugged shyly, wanting Twain to make the decision.  Twain broke the news to Parker that they were going on a week's holiday, to a yet undecided location.  A jubilant smile broke out on Parker's face.  He jumped up, doing a merry dance, making Twain and Macy break out in laughter.

'Is that jive because you're going to be cutting school or because you're going on holiday?'  Macy teased.

Parker smirked ecstatically, favouring his mum with one of his appealing sidelong glances.

 'So you're looking forward to dinner with my folks tomorrow?'  Twain smiled.

 'Yes,' Parker nodded.  'Did you remember about the broccoli?'

 Macy and Twain laughed.
 Twain scratched his chin absently.  'My mum says the menu is already set and broccoli is on it,' Twain teased.

 'Mum,' Parker looked at Macy pleadingly.  'Maybe, we can get there after they've eaten dinner.  Twain can phone us and let us know.'

 Macy and Twain laughed again. 

'You did remember you were invited to dinner,' Macy asserted.  'You cannot arrive there after dinner.'

Parker's countenance fell.  He seemed to be racking his brain.  Macy kicked Twain under the table.  He bit. 
'I was just kidding,' Twain smiled.  'There's no broccoli, I promise,' Twain lifted his hand effecting the solemn promise.

 'Yes,' Parker smacked a high five with Twain.

Macy stared in amazement.  She just could not believe the hundred and eighty degree turn Parker had made since knowing Twain was his father.  Initially he wanted nothing to do with Twain.  He wanted Twain to stay as far away from them as possible.  This was a miracle.

'Parker, we should say good bye now.'

 'Okay,' Parker stood up.  'See you tomorrow.'

 'Yeah, big boy.'  Twain hoisted Parker onto the chair so he could give him a real man to man hug.

 'You must not grow anymore, so I can catch up with you,' Parker stated in a serious tone.

 'Deal,' Twain winked. 

Macy smiled, shaking her head.  She held out her hand for Parker to hop down.

'Bye,' Parker waved to Twain.

'Bye Parker.  Macy,' Twain reached out and kissed her on the lips.  He opened the door and walked them out to the lift.

'Come into my office Carla.'

'Yes sir,' Carla nervously dragged herself into Twain's office.

'What was that about?'  Twain demanded in a grave tone, towering over Carla in front of his desk.

Carla fiddled with her notepad.  'You instructed me to screen your calls and visitors and Dr. Skye did not have an appointment.  I was merely informing them when that boy ___.'

"'That boy,'" Twain hissed, 'is my son.  You will treat Dr. Skye and my son with the utmost respect or find yourself another job!  Is that understood?'

 'Yes sir.'

 'Thank you,' Twain turned to his desk dismissively.

 
      'Are you ready mum, Twain will be here any minute.'  Parker was pacing in and out of Macy's bedroom.

 'Yes Parker.  Will you relax?'

 'Do I look okay mum?  Do I smell nice?'

 Macy laughed.  'So what am I in for, when you go on your first date?'

 'Mum!'

 Macy laughed.  'You look handsome sweetheart and you smell very good.'

 He was in jeans again and a black sweater minus his cap.  He did smell nice, something like a musk scent.

 'You look beautiful too mum.  Twain's parents are going to like you.'

 Macy laughed.  'Thank you, Parker.'

Parker was flying down the staircase, when he heard the doorbell.

Macy followed Parker at a more leisurely pace.  She smiled when she saw Twain.  He looked hot.  He was in casual chinos, a polo shirt and loafers.  He smelt divine.

'Hi Parker,' Twain smiled at his son and embraced him.

 'Doesn't mum look beautiful, Twain?'  Parker boasted proudly.

 Twain's eyes raked over Macy admiringly. 

'Yes,' she does. 

His eyes locked with hers before  indulging in a second leisurely inspection.  Macy looked ravishing.  Her dress was flame coloured, sleeveless, just over the knee.  It shaped the curves of her waist, accentuating her shapely bottom.  Her feet adorned in sexy heels.  Her glossy hair was skilfully pinned high on her head, a cascade of shiny soft curls sweeping down her neck, her nails attractive in colourless varnish.  She had no jewellery on, save his ring.  She epitomised classical perfection.

Macy looked apprehensive as she stepped out the car outside Twain's parents' home.  Parker took her hand supportively. 

'Mum, don't be afraid.  I will protect you,' he assured her.

 Macy smiled adoringly at Parker.   It was not herself she was concerned about.  It was their opinion of Parker and would they accept their grandson?

 'Thank you,' she whispered, fighting the threatening tears.  Parker was so protective.

 Twain's folks were at the door, awaiting Macy and their grandson.

 'Dad, mum,' Twain announced.  'You remember Macy.  May I present my son, Parker Skye.'

The elder Crawford's' eyes were trained on Parker.  They were smiling welcomingly.  Anne Crawford dragged her eyes away from Parker for a few seconds to greet and embrace Macy.

'Welcome again dear,' Anne smiled warmly.  She wore an air of warmth and kindness, like some invisible cloak

'Hello Parker,' Twain's dad extended his hand to his grandson.

 'Hi,' Parker smiled 'What's your name?'

 'Parker!'  Macy tried to restrain her son.

 All three Crawfords laughed easily as Parker looked up at his mum questioningly.

'My name is Talbot,' the senior Crawford announced and this is my wife, Anne.'

 'Good evening sir,' Parker saluted with a straight face because Talbot announced himself with such gravity, like a soldier in the army.

'Parker!'  Macy attempted to admonish her son again.

 'Good evening ma'am,' Parker bowed elaborately for Anne.

Macy was embarrassed at her son's theatrics. 
What was Parker up to? 
But she relaxed when the senior Crawfords burst into laughter again.

 'You know,' Talbot placed his arm around Parker's shoulder.  'Your father was full of tricks at your age as well.  'Whenever guests came to visit, he would talk a mile a minute, we could never get a word in.'

'Don't go giving away all my secrets now, dad,' Twain smiled easily at his father.

 'Shall we have a seat in the lounge?'  Anne offered, smiling again at Macy.

'Thank you,' Macy accepted, following Anne.  Talbot with his arm around Parker's shoulder was already a few steps ahead of Anne.

'Relax darling,' Twain draped his arm around Macy's shoulder.

 'I don't know where Parker came up with all of that.'

 'No harm done at all,' Twain smiled encouragingly.  'I suspect he just wanted to match dad's serious tone.'

'What must your parents think?'

'That my son is adorable and his mother has done an exceptional job in raising him.'

'Thank you.  I hope you're right.'

 'I am,' Twain turned Macy to face him, and indulged in a leisurely kiss.  'You look so sexy,' he moaned.  'I want to peel every item of clothing off your body.'

'Twain!' 
She pushed him away and quickly walked towards the lounge.  She heard Twain's lazy laugh behind her.

Macy accepted a glass of passion fruit and lemonade.  Parker requested a coke.  Twain, his mum and dad each had a scotch.  Parker was sitting next to his grandfather asking him a million questions.  Talbot was patiently humouring him.

'Relax Macy,' Twain murmured again.  'Dad is enjoying having Parker around.'

Anne brought out an album.  Macy heard Twain groan loudly.  'Thought this might interest you,' Anne smiled at Parker.

'Thank you.'
Parker placed the album on his lap and leafed through it.  He giggled at some of the pictures.  Looked up at Twain and laughed then buried his head in the album again.

Macy would have loved to have seen it as well, but she was too far away.

  Were there pictures of a teenage Twain with his various girlfriends?

Parker was conversing and laughing with his grandparents like he'd known them since the day he was born.  Macy began to relax.  This had turned out exceptionally well.

Whilst Parker was having an animated conversation with his besotted grandparents, Twain hinted at Macy to join him in their library on the pretext of wanting to show her something.  Macy's face turned scarlet, she knew exactly why he wanted to whisk her away. 

'Come on darling,' Twain smiled, confidently extending his hand out to Macy.

 'I'll be back just now,' Macy's eyes fell on her son, as she placed a comforting palm on his shoulder.

'Okay mum,' Parker nodded, eagerly turning his attention back to the photo album his grandfather was showing him of a very young Twain Crawford.  Parker was astounded at the marked resemblance between himself and his dad.

Twain let Macy into the library and shut the door.  Macy looked up at him with a shy smile.  'Your parents are going to know exactly why you brought me here,' she breathed heavily; her eyes betrayed her, falling to his tempting mouth.

'Of course they do,' Twain laughed unapologetically.  He did not disappoint Macy, his lips sought hers in a slow, erotic kiss.  'Do you know that guy?'  Twain pointed with a grin.

Macy was surprised at Twain's distraction.  Disappointed, actually that he'd stopped kissing her.  She wanted his mouth back on her lips.  Reluctantly, her eyes followed to the book case Twain pointed to.

'Oh my word! A book case full of Mark Twain!  
'The Celebrated Jumping Frog,' Macy exclaimed, picking up the paperback.  'This was my absolute favourite and I loved the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, too,' a smile broke out across her face.  Macy was flabbergasted to see a complete leather bound chronological index of all the author's work.  Macy looked up at Twain in stunned silence.

'Now you know where I get my name from,' he laughed softly.

Macy smiled. She looked away from Twain uncomfortably, her eyes scanning over all of the author's books.

'What is it?'  Twain chuckled, drawing Macy into his arms.

'Nothing,' she smiled, hiding her eyes from Twain.

'Now about the real reason, I sneaked you in here,' his finger lifted her chin. 

Macy's eyes locked with his, her lips lifted to his, her hands curved round his shoulders.  He was the most amazing kisser, not that she had many to compare with, but enough to know, Twain's kisses made her spin like a top.  It was powerful too, like a twister, stealing her breath and rendering her powerless.  Her fingers slipped through his shirt, splaying over the muscular wall.  Her nails grazed over the fine hairs.  She heard his gasp of breath.  Macy angled her mouth, deepening the kiss, so she could better enjoy it.  Reluctantly Twain gently put the brakes on.  He smiled into her eyes, his breathing erratic. 

'If I don't stop now...,' he cautioned in a husky breath, not finishing his sentence. 
His mouth wanted to plunder hers again.  Her lips were swollen and ripe from his kisses, her eyes dark as slate and aroused as he was, inside his pants.

Macy inhaled heavily, 'let's go back.'

Twain nodded, lacing his hand through hers.  'Yes,' he opened the door and took Macy back into the lounge.

'So you've seen my secret collection?' Anne Crawford smiled at Macy.

Macy laughed, uncomfortably her tongue ran over her swollen lips.  'What a fabulous collection,' she smiled. 'I grew up on Mark Twain and I've read Huckleberry Finn to Parker more than once.'

Anne nodded.  'He was a good story teller.  Funny too.  Now what he used to do, was stand-up comedy, not the commercial nonsense we're fed today.'

Macy had very briefly skimmed through Mark Twain's autobiography in the library.  It had mentioned something about him travelling around the country giving humorous talks.

 Twain watched the animated look on Macy's face.  It seemed Macy loved books as much as his mother did. She was so naturally beautiful.  He liked that she was able to communicate with his folks so easily.  She did not try to impress his parents like most of Macy's predecessors that he'd invited to informal dinners at his parents.  He was looking forward to marriage with Macy.  It would be exciting ... not because of the sex.  That would be the most interesting, but being with Macy was almost indescribable.  She was intelligent, companionable, honest, a dedicated health practitioner, a loving mother, sexy, hot in bed.  What more could a man ask for?  Twain was just mildly curious about the sudden change of expression on her face in the library.  It niggled at him disturbingly.

      After an enjoyable weekend, spent mostly with Twain; on Monday, Macy was in Twain's office.  He'd invited her to lunch with him.  Twain wished to take Parker bungee jumping.

 'No way!  Absolutely not!' Macy refuted, spearing a baby carrot and biting into it.

 'It is perfectly safe darling.  Parker will love it.'

 'No,' she shook her head.  'It's too dangerous!'

 Twain laughed, he dipped his finger into some creamy cottage cheese, traced his finger over her lips and used his tongue to remove every speck of it.  A whimper escaped her throat as he teasingly pulled away.

'The Soweto Cooling Towers has a hundred percent safety record,' he murmured.

 What the hell? 

She shook her head to clear the fog in her brain.  'That is seduction, but  I'm not risking my child's life ___.'

 'Our child,' he interrupted leaning forward, running his tongue fleetingly down her throat.

 'Stop Twain,' she laughed, pushing him back onto his chair.  'Choose something else, you're not taking Parker bungee jumping ___ hundred metres down a tower.' She shivered at the thought of it.

 'How about we go there, check it out?'

 Macy was still shaking her head vigorously.

 'Look, we'll watch a few people do the jump, if you're still convinced it's unsafe, then we will leave.'

 'Twain, no,' she pleaded.  'When Parker gets there he will insist on doing it.'

 Twain laughed again.  'Macy if you didn't know me and you came to me as a patient and I tell you, my unit has a hundred percent success rate, will you walk away, saying you're afraid you'll die at my hands in theatre?'

 She stalled uncomfortably, 'that's different.'

 'Why?'

 Because I trust you.  I know your expertise.  I don't know about this dangerous Cooling Tower.  Just the name sounds ominous!   

Macy battled with her thoughts but did not speak anything aloud.

Twain turned her around so he could look into her eyes.  'I will talk to Parker.  I will let him believe we are just visiting the place___ sight-seeing and when we get there, you can say yes or no.  If Parker's not expecting to do the jump, he won't ask you to allow him to.  There are viewing spots; we can go to, where you could judge the safety factor. '

Reluctantly, Macy caved in.  'Let the record reflect, that I consent under duress.'

'Thank you,' he leaned over and kissed her on the lips. 'We'll arrange it for next week.'

There was a knock on Twain's door.  Disappointedly Macy looked at her wristwatch. Lunch must be over.  Macy looked towards the door, when Twain announced, "come in."

 'Heather!'

The smile from Macy's face guiltily disappeared.

Twain politely rose to his feet. 

Why the hell did Carla not warn me first?   

'Good day Heather.' 

 'Good afternoon, Macy.  Twain, may I speak to you privately please?' Heather issued to Twain, dragging her eyes away from the intimate lunch they seemed to be sharing.

 Macy used the napkin to dab at her mouth.   I was just leaving,' she stood up.

 'Stay.' Twain instructed, holding her hand tightly, so she could not leave.

 Heather stared uncomfortably from Twain to Macy.  It seemed she had no choice and subsequently announced;

'I'm pregnant, Twain.'

       -end chapter twenty  two-