The concept of the Highlander universe and the character of Duncan MacLeod were created by someone else. They belong to someone else. Actually, they belong to a bunch of people - Gregory Widen, Peter Davis, William Panzer, the folks at Gaumont, and those at Rysher Entertainment, as well. They do not belong to me, and I'm borrowing them without permission. Because Highlander-The Series is my favorite TV show, and because this story has been written out of love with no hope of monetary gain - I hope they'll forgive the transgression.


Move over Mary Sue - Chapter 2

I'll call you. Famous last words. It's a week later and you guessed it - he didn't.

Why do men say that when they don't really mean it? Perhaps, they attach the same sincerity to that phrase as everyone does to, "how are you?" It's just a reflex action. Something polite to say when you can't think of anything else.

I sigh as I push away from my desk to get some fresh coffee. I've vowed more times than I care to remember not to wait by the phone for a guy to call, but I did just that all week.

I told Dara and Lisa I felt a cold coming on, so I could stay home Friday night, and I turned down a date with that nice guy Jack I met at the computer conference two weeks ago. I know I'm pathetic, but I couldn't I help it - Duncan MacLeod is not just any guy. I recall the haze of our meeting with a tingle, and I concede that he merited a little waiting. But I waited a week and this is Monday morning. I'm back to reality. I should have known a guy like him wouldn't call me.

I'm no slouch, but I'm no raving beauty either. Most of the guys who do call me fall into the same category, though I seem to attract more than my fair share of geeks and nerds as well. Persistent nerds and geeks. Must be my stellar personality.

The usual Monday morning gathering around the coffee machine parts like a bad hairdo as I approach. They don't want to get caught in idle chit-chat while the boss is in audio range. They don't know it, but they're safe from my wrath this morning. All I want is more coffee to wash away the bitter taste of a lost week and a deflated ego. I smile encouragingly, and they resume their chatter with watchful glances as I reach for the pot.

Why do I do this to myself? Why can't I fall for one of the nice, but average guys who talk to me in bars, or who sit next to me at business conferences, or who ask me to help them pick out a cantaloupe in the produce section of the supermarket?

And what is it with men anyway? Why do they just assume that all women are born knowing how to pick out fruit ... and how to type?

I've got an average life - maybe above average in some respects. I've worked hard enough to move up to customer service manager at the mail order company where I've worked since Dara and I migrated west after college. My customer service reps tell me I'm a decent boss, and the VP of marketing thinks I'm brilliant - most of the time, anyway. I've got a small, but nice condo in a middle class building, and I recently bought a new Mitsubishi Eclipse. So why am I not satisfied with my life?

I crave adventure, that's why. Yet I'm too comfy under my security blanket to go for the gusto. Not brave enough to reach beyond safety for the brass ring. I need a guy with a hint of danger simmering under the surface to push me off this platform of complacency. I need a guy like Duncan MacLeod.

"Did you have a good weekend, Kate?" Sherry asks.

"It was okay," I lie. I'm not going to tell them I sat home waiting for Mr. Drop Dead Gorgeous - Mr. Man of My Dreams to call - but he didn't.

"Well, I met someone. Someone special," Robin gushes, her eyes wide with glee over this treasure. Robin is barely twenty. She meets someone special every weekend. The others groan.

"Honey, you think everyone with a Y chromosome is special," Kala says.

Kala's one of three supervisors who work for me. She catches my attention with a tilt of her head. It's time to get the troops back to work. I nod and return to my office. She can wear the black hat for a change. I'm not in the mood.

Faced with a fat stack of folders filled with problems that require an executive decision, and a budget that needs trimming, I can't keep my mind off Duncan MacLeod. There was something exciting about the man ... something that went beyond those darkly handsome looks. I stare out the window as I tried to pin it down, but it eludes me.

"Is there something you're not telling me about?" Kala asks from the doorway.

She's startled me out of my reverie and I bang my knee on the open desk drawer as I spin my chair around. "Don't sneak up on me like that," I scold, rubbing the bruise. Just what I need another black and blue mark.

"Girl, you got a new man in your life? You keepin' him secret from me?" she asks, as she sashays into my office, then plops down in one of the chairs facing my desk.

Kala's the Dear Abby of the office with an unhealthy dose of Cindy Adams thrown in for good measure. She knows everything about everybody, but she has a way of making you forget that fact when she tempts you into sharing confidences.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I insist. She can't possibly know about Duncan MacLeod unless she's added mind-reading to her impressive list of people skills. "Is there a point to this? I've got work to do." I don't mean to sound so testy, but I can't seem to shake this funk.

"Oh no?" She taunts me with an evil grin, then snaps her fingers.

At the sound, Robin curls around the doorway like a cat. She holds a clear glass vase of flowers before her. Six pink tiger lilies surrounded by baby's breath and lacy ferns sway gently as she walks over to set the vase on the corner of my desk with a ceremonial flourish.

"Then who sent those?" Kala finishes her mischief.

"I have no idea," I protest, reaching for the small white envelope, I assume contains a clue.

"Uh-huh," Kala says. She stands, then leans one hand on the desk as she cranes her neck to see the card.

I turn away from her prying eyes. Most of the men I know would send roses if they were inclined to send flowers. Red if they had no imagination - pink or yellow if they did. Perhaps carnations if they were broke or cheap. But tiger lilies were most unusual. I know no one who would send tiger lilies unless ...

My fingers tremble as I pull the card from the envelope. A neat scrawl forms words in black ink across the white cardstock. Two words - Dinner? Wednesday? and initials - DM.

An annoying buzz erupts from the speaker on my phone. "Kate--" Jane's voice follows the buzz. Jane's the marketing department secretary - I don't rate one of my own.

I touch the speaker button. "Is it important, Jane? I'm in a meeting," I lie for expediency. Kala snickers. I glare at her, but it has no effect.

"There's a man asking for you on line three. He says his name is Duncan MacLeod ... he says it's personal, but if he's a salesman I'll get rid of him."

"No, that's all right Jane. I'll take it."

Kala and Robin look like they're about to put down roots. I shoo them away with a wave of my hand. "Don't you two have work to do?"

Robin turns tail and scurries away. Kala crosses her arms over her ample chest. "No," she says with a toss of her head and an evil grin. "Nothing that won't wait for a bit."

"Well, find some," I say, with my finger poised over the flashing red light. No way I'm talking this call with her listening in. "Close the door on your way out ... and no eavesdropping."

She leaves grumbling about some people getting too big for their panty hose. The door shuts with a bang. I smile and pick up the phone, then turn toward the window because I know she will be listening at the door.

"Duncan," I say. "What I nice surprise!"

"Did you get the flowers?" he asks.

His dark velvet voice sounds even better over the phone. I can concentrate on it without being distracted by his overpowering presence.

"Yes," I answer, reaching out to touch the tip of the closest lily. "How did you know I love tiger lilies?"

He laughs. The sound of it warms me like a crackling fire on a snowy evening. I savor the heat of it. "Lucky guess," he says. "So do you still want to have dinner with me?"

Silly question. Of course, I want to have dinner with him. I want more than dinner, but we won't go into that just yet. "I'd love to," I say, instead.

"Is Wednesday, okay?"

"Wednesday's fine."

"Do you like Chinese? A friend told me about a new Szechuan place in Chinatown. I've been wanting to try it."

"I love Chinese food - that would be great."

"Good ... I'll pick you up. Is six, okay for you?"

My natural caution kicks in. I don't know enough about this guy to trust him, and I'm not sure if I can trust my instincts under his spell. I think I may need an escape hatch - like my own car. Also, I'm not sure I want him to know where I live just yet. "Er ... I-ah ... maybe I could meet you there?"

He laughs again. I suspect he knows what I'm thinking. "Finding a place to park in Chinatown isn't easy. Are you sure you want to bother?"

He's right about the parking situation - and I hate parallel parking on city streets. I don't even like driving in the downtown traffic. I don't answer while I search for a solution.

"I could pick you up at your office," he offers.

A compromise of sorts. I suppose I can always take a cab if I have to, and the garage here is secure. "Okay, that will work," I answer.

"See you Wednesday," he says, then he hangs up, and my office seems suddenly cold.

I hear muffled sounds from the other side of the door. I hang up the phone, then circle around the desk as quietly as I can. I yank the door open, and find Kala picking up a pile of manila folders from the floor. "You said you wanted to see last year's complaint reports," she says with a smile. "You know how slippery these folders can be."

"Uh-huh, and you just happened to drop them right by my door."

I scowl at her, but it does no good. She's an incurable snoop, but she's a lovable one as well. She's always there when someone needs a shoulder to cry on, and she makes soothing noises if you need to vent your anger over the injustices of the world. My scowl slides into a grin. I can't help it - I'm still humming from my conversation with Duncan.

"Do you want to go over them now?" she asks.

I step back to let her into the office. She's going to find out about Duncan sooner or later. I may as well tell her the story myself.