The Mackades Collection (Books 1-4). Nora Roberts

leave bruises.” She shrugged. “Well, they’re out of it now.” She handed him a plate to dry. “Did your father do dishes?”

      “Only on Thanksgiving.” Rafe polished off the plate, set it aside. “Buck MacKade was a man’s man.”

      “Buck?” Impressed, Regan pursed her lips. “Sounds formidable.”

      “He was tough. Had eyes that could drill holes in you if you messed up. Devin got his eyes. I got his hands.” Bemused, Rafe stared down at his palms, flexed his fingers. “It was a hell of a surprise to me when I looked down one day and saw my father’s hands on the end of my arms.”

      She couldn’t have said why it touched her so to see him smiling down at his hands, a dishcloth tossed over his shoulder. “You were close to him?”

      “Not close enough. Not for long enough.”

      “When did you lose him?”

      “I was fifteen. Tractor rolled on him. It took him a week to die.”

      She plunged her hands into the water again, struggled with tears. “Is that why you hate the farm?”

      “Yeah, I guess it is.” Odd, he’d never realized it was that simple, that direct. The farm had taken his father, so he had to hate the farm. “He loved it, every rocky acre. The way Shane does.”

      “What did Jared get from him?”

      “The mouth—Jared can horse-trade just like the old man, and make you think you got the best end of the deal.”

      “Then I’m relieved he’s my lawyer.” She offered another plate. “My father never did a dish in his life. I’m sure my mother would be horrified if he tried. The kitchen is a woman’s domain,” she said dryly. “They agree on that completely. She brings him his first cup of coffee every morning before he goes to the hospital. He’s a surgeon.”

      “Hard feelings?”

      “I used to have them,” she admitted. “She made herself into exactly the woman he wanted her to be. If she was ever anything else, wanted to be anything else, anything more, it doesn’t show. She’s Dr. Bishop’s wife, and that’s all.”

      He began to see just why she was so set on marking her own boundaries, taking her own stands. “Maybe that’s all she wants to be.”

      “Apparently. It just infuriated me to see the way she catered to him, the way he patted her on the head. He actually gives her an allowance and calls her ‘the little woman.’”

      It still made her grit her teeth. “She loved living in D.C., but a few years ago when he decided that he wanted to relocate to Arizona, she packed up without a murmur.” Regan sighed. “But they’re blissfully happy. I baffle them as much as they baffle me.”

      “Because you don’t have a rich husband, a big house and a membership at the country club.”

      “Exactly.” Surprised and amused, she glanced at him. “Have you met them?”

      “I think I just did.” And, in doing so, caught a fresh new glimpse of her. “So, darling, why don’t you have a rich husband, a big house and a membership at the country club?”

      “Because I like independence, my own space and my golf game is dreadful.” She shook back her hair. “Actually, my mother had high hopes for me when she met Jared.”

      The bowl he was drying clattered when he set it down. “Run through that again.”

      “They came to visit right after the settlement. He took us out to dinner.”

      “Jared,” Rafe said carefully, “took you out to dinner.”

      “Mmm-hmm… A couple of times. My mother really liked the idea that I was seeing a lawyer. Next-best thing to a doctor, in her mind.”

      “Seeing. As in dating. You dated Jared?”

      “We went out a few times. It was right after his divorce.” She held out another bowl, lifting a brow when he made no move to take it. “Is there a problem?”

      “You dated my brother?”

      “I believe we just established that.” She decided it was a better idea to bite the inside of her lip than to let it curve. “Didn’t he mention it?”

      “No. I think I’d like your definition of date.”

      “You mean, did I sleep with him?” Struggling to keep her face composed, she tilted her head. “Are you going to go beat him up, big guy? Can I come watch?”

      Obviously she didn’t know how close she was to having her pretty face dumped in dishwater. “It’s a simple question.”

      “You’ve got a muscle twitching in your jaw, Rafe. It looks good on you. No,” she said, and then she did laugh. “Of course I didn’t sleep with him.” Enjoying herself, she shoved the bowl into his hands. “I did kiss him good-night. A couple of times. I’m now in the position to state, unequivocally, that at least fifty percent of the MacKade brothers are champion kissers.”

      “Think twice before you try for a hundred percent—or even seventy-five.” He set the bowl aside, picked up his wine. “Why didn’t you sleep with him?”

      “Really, Rafe.” She rolled her eyes. “In the first place, he didn’t ask me. And in the second, I didn’t ask him. We were more comfortable being friends. Satisfied?”

      “Maybe I’ll beat him up anyway. On principle.”

      After setting his wine aside, he took her by the shoulders, turned her to face him. Even as she grinned at him, he pressed her back into the sink.

      Hard, possessive, his mouth covered hers. The little purr that sounded in her throat enticed him to draw the kiss out, soften it, until all points of pleasure narrowed and centered just there.

      When her head fell back in surrender, her hands slid limply down his arms, he eased back.

      “That’s so you remember which MacKade you’re with now.”

      She had to remind herself to breathe. “What was your name again?”

      He grinned, then closed his teeth over her sensitized bottom lip. “Tell you what. Why don’t we skip necking on the couch and go try out the back seat of my car?”

      “That’s quite an offer.” It was fascinating to feel her own head spin. “I think I’ll take you up on it.”

      Rafe let himself into the Barlow house at midnight. He’d recognized the car at the top of the lane, and he wasn’t surprised to find Jared in the parlor, brooding over a beer.

      “Foreclosing already, Lawyer MacKade?”

      Instead of rising to the bait, Jared stared down at his beer. “I put my house on the market today. Didn’t feel like staying there.”

      Rafe grunted, sat down on his sleeping bag to pull off his boots. He knew the dark moods, often had them himself. Either he’d manage to shake Jared out of it, or they’d both ride through it.

      “Never liked that house, no personality. Just like your ex-wife.”

      It was so cold, and so true, Jared had to laugh. “Decent investment, though. I’ll make a profit.”

      Rafe shook his head at the beer Jared held out. “They don’t taste the same without a smoke. Besides, I gotta be up in six and a half hours. I was going to come look for you,” he added.

      “Oh? Why?”

      “To beat the hell out of you.” With a yawn, Rafe lay back. “It’ll have to wait till tomorrow. I’m too relaxed.”

      “Okay. Any particular reason?”

      “You kissed my woman.” Rafe figured he had just about enough energy to strip off his pants.

      “I