Revenge (8 page)

“Dani works hard at being a rebel.”

“Don't we all?” He slammed the door shut and jogged around to the driver's side of the truck.

 

The night was perfect. Shooting stars blazed across the sky and a quarter moon hung low over the hills.

Skye rolled down her window and felt the summer wind tug at her hair. Dust and the scent of freshly cut hay wafted into the cab of the truck and the soft notes of a country and western love song swelled from the single speaker in the dash.

“Is your car in the shop?” she asked as they rounded a curve and the lights of Dawson City glowed in the dark valley.

“Nope.” He smiled, looking satisfied with himself. Patting the steering wheel, his lips twisting into a hard grin, he said, “This is my new set of wheels. What do you think?”

“Sporty,” she said dryly.

“Zero to sixty in seventeen point six minutes.” His smile disappeared. “Actually, I sold the BMW and bought this to make a point.”

“With whom?”

“Jonah.”

“Oh.” Though she'd grown up hearing that Jonah McKee was the finest man to ever walk the face of the earth, she was beginning to think her mother's viewpoint of the man was skewed. Jonah was secretive and brash and there was a presence about him that made her uneasy. She'd told herself over and over again that she was being foolish, but she'd noticed the way his eyes could shift quickly, scanning a room without moving too much. He saw everything, it seemed, and he made it his business to know everything there was to know about Rimrock and its citizens. The men striding through the doors to his office were prominent citizens—Judge Rayburn, Dr. Fletcher, the mayor and several men on the city council—who came and went as if they were part of an exclusive men's club, a club that Skye guessed shaped the future of the little town of Rimrock.

“You don't like him, do you?”

Skye gave a little shrug. She didn't want to talk about Jonah. “I don't really know him.”

“You work for him.”

Smiling, she said, “It's only temporary, and if you want to know the truth, I'm not very good at taking orders. My mother thinks I have a problem with authority. My guess is she's right.”

“Medical school might be rough.”

“I'll manage,” she said, her fingers curling into fists in her lap. No matter what it took, she'd get through the necessary training and the inevitable razzing from some of the guys and professors who didn't want a woman invading their turf. Most of the old prejudices had melted away over the years, but some remained, and there were always those who liked to see a woman fail. Well, this was one woman who wouldn't. “What was the point you were trying to make?” she asked when the silence had stretched too long.

He snorted. “Sounds silly.”

“Come on.”

“Okay. I think it's time my father knew that I'm my own man.”

“He doubts that?”

“No. He
fights
it,” Max said, the lines around the corners of his mouth becoming more visible. “But what else is new? Jonah P. McKee sees things only one way.”

“So why didn't you stay in one of those big law firms in the city? Why'd you come back?”

Max's jaw grew hard and his eyes glittered with an intense fire. “Something I had to do.” As if the conversation had suddenly become too personal, he changed the station on the radio and Rod Stewart's voice crackled from the speaker. Skye tried to recapture the carefree mood she'd felt only moments before but just the mention of Jonah McKee's name had changed the atmosphere in the truck, creating an invisible current of strain that weighed heavy in the darkness. She'd always assumed that Max and his father were similar; maybe she'd been wrong. She hoped so, because the more she knew of Jonah McKee, the less she liked the man.

Just the opposite was true with Max. The more she saw of him, the more she wanted to see. She had to keep telling herself that she might end up disappointed. He was, after all, a McKee, and as her sister Dani had been so quick to point out, McKees took what they wanted without regard for anyone else.

They drove into town, through the aging business section and toward the river. A cabin converted to a family-owned restaurant huddled on the banks of the John Day. Strings of light bulbs suspended from the roof to poles lining the walk swung in the breeze.

Inside, the restaurant was cut into small rooms angling from a small foyer. A smiling waitress guided them to a table with a view of the dark water. After they sat, she rattled off the specials of the day, then scribbled down their drink orders and promised to return soon.

The quivering flame from a fat white candle encased in glass was reflected on the glossy surface of the table, and soft music—an instrumental of an old Olivia Newton-John recording—was being piped to the rooms.

Max looked thoughtful and suddenly there was an uncomfortable silence between them.

“Why'd you ask me out?” Skye asked. The question had been hovering in the back of her mind.

“You were surprised?”

“A little.”

A crooked smile caught hold of one side of his lips. “I thought it was the next step.”

“To where?”

He shrugged. “Who knows?”

“I don't think your father would approve.” She'd recognized the looks Jonah had cast in her direction whenever Max stopped at her desk to talk. Mild disapproval beneath a benign facade. And there were other, darker glances she'd caught out of the corner of her eye when he thought she wasn't looking.

“Why wouldn't he approve?”

“He told me that you were dating Colleen Wheeler.”

Max snorted. “I took her out a couple of times. Before I met you. Jonah's idea.”

“You always date the women he chooses for you?”

“Never. Except in the case of Colleen.” The waitress brought their drinks and a basket of warm bread before taking their orders. When she moved to the next table, Max's eyes focused on Skye's with such an intensity her throat turned to sand. “Let's get something straight, right here, right now. I
don't
do everything my father tells me to. It may look that way because I work for him, and once in a while, I admit, I'll even humor him outside of the office, but my personal life is just that. Personal.”

“He's a hard man to say no to,” she observed.

“Believe me, I've had a lot of practice.” He took a long swallow from his bottle of imported beer.

“So you're a rebel.”

“Nope. I leave that title to Jenner.” Max winked. “He works hard for it. I just question the old man a lot, that's all. It's good for him.”

Skye wondered. From what she'd seen of Jonah P. McKee, she knew the man didn't like his authority challenged by anyone. That included his firstborn son.

The waitress brought their meals. Max cut into a peppered steak smothered in grilled onions while Skye, though hardly tasting the food, did reasonable damage to her salad and halibut in butter sauce. She tried not to stare at Max, was determined not to compare him to his father, but she couldn't help glancing up at him and finding him watching her with seductive turquoise eyes.

They lingered over cups of coffee and Skye listened as Max told her a little about growing up as a McKee. “It was both good and bad,” he admitted. “The good was that I was given everything I wanted. The bad was that I was given everything I wanted.” He set his empty cup on the table. “I can't lie. I liked the easy life, and when I finally figured out that I had to work for a living, it came as a big shock. I don't think Jenner ever got over it.”

Skye laughed. “So why do I think you're ambitious?”

He thought a minute while the waitress poured more coffee then moved to the next table. “Everyone grows up eventually. Especially when Jonah McKee gives you a swift kick in the butt. I guess he got tired of his kids being lazy, so one summer he told us that we had to learn to work if we expected to inherit anything. Jenner told him to go to hell, but I decided it was time to prove myself.”

Skye didn't comment. She'd been born with ambition. Growing up poor had only added incentive and given her the drive she'd needed to excel in school, to earn scholarships, to work as a receptionist at the clinic and put the money in the bank. While she was going to high school and clocking in more hours than the child labor laws would allow, Dani had tried to convince her to buy a car.

“We could use the wheels,” Dani had said over and over again like a broken record.

Skye had been tempted, but she'd kept depositing her paychecks in the bank, looking toward a future that would help her leave Rimrock. She hadn't been able to wait to head for the city. Only now, since she'd met Max, did she question the driving force behind her need to succeed, a force that had been with her for as long as she could remember.

He drove her home in the old pickup. The summer evening drifted through the open windows. Crickets chirped in a soft chorus and the smells of dust and cut hay mingled in the warm night. He pulled up to the curb in front of her house, and as she reached for the door handle, he grabbed her hand.

“Skye...” he said softly.

She turned to face him and stared into eyes that had darkened to the color of midnight. Warm lips found hers and his arms surrounded her, drawing her close as her blood began to heat and her body began to respond. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that kissing him was as dangerous as stepping over the edge of a cliff and not knowing where she would land, but she couldn't stop herself.

Her heart raced when his tongue prodded open her lips and touched the roof of her mouth. His hands splayed against her back, pressing her still closer until her breasts were crushed against his chest and her breath caught in her throat.

She felt his hands move, spanning her waist, inching forward to feel the weight of her breasts. Her insides quivered, wanting more, and his kiss deepened, turning hard and demanding.

Skye's mind began to whirl as he reached for the buttons of her blouse. The tiny pearls glided all too easily from their bonds and her breasts ached and filled her bra. Fingertips brushed her swollen flesh and sparkles of delight skipped through her blood.

“Skye,” he whispered into her open mouth. He found the front clasp and her bra fell open, allowing her breasts to spill into his waiting palms. “Oh, Skye,” he groaned as her nipples stood erect in the darkness, anxious and proud little points aching for more of his touch. “Please...” He lowered his head to taste her, and she, through the thin shutters of her eyelids, saw headlights flash as a car rounded the corner at the far end of the street.

At that moment, she realized what she was doing, what she was about to do, and she fought the urges that pounded through her blood. “No,” she said, pushing away from him. “No, Max, I can't...not here, not now.” She started fumbling with the buttons of her blouse and shook her head again and again. “I can't do this.”

To her surprise, he released her. Jaw hard, he plowed both hands through his hair and let out a long, ragged breath.

“I'm sorry—”

“Don't apologize!” he snapped.

“But—”

“Just don't say anything. I rushed things. I didn't mean to, but I did.” The car roared up the street, illuminating the cab with its bright lights for an instant, before passing quickly by. “Come on.” He flung open the door. “I'll walk you to the house.”

“You don't have to.”

“Get out of the damned truck, Skye,” he ordered. After she'd hopped to the ground, he slung an arm over her shoulders and guided her along the cracked walk and up the steps to the front porch where a single bulb glowed over the door. He rubbed his jaw and bit his lip. “We have to decide what we're going to do about this, you know.”

“About what?”

“Don't play dumb with me, Skye: It doesn't suit you.”

“I don't understand—”

“About
this!”
he hissed, kissing her again. His mouth was hard, the length of his body pressing intimately against hers even harder. Her body responded instantly, her blood heating, her knees beginning to weaken.

A wild heat began to uncoil within her and she kissed him back. This time it was her own tongue that plunged past his lips and discovered its mate. He groaned low in his throat and pushed against her, his body straining, her back flat against the screen door. Her heart thundered as he lifted his head and stared at her with glazed eyes. “Now do you understand?”

She nodded mutely and licked her lips. His eyes caught the motion and he kissed her again, more tenderly this time, but with the same undercurrent of urgency. When he lifted his head, he stared down at her and swore beneath his breath. “What you do to a man should be illegal. Hell, maybe it is.” With that he pushed himself away from her and turned on his heel. Within seconds, the pickup disappeared around the corner and Skye was finally able to draw in a long, calming breath.

As she turned to open the door, she saw a movement of the blinds and realized that the window next to the old porch swing was partially open, letting in the breeze.

Great, she thought, opening the door. Dani was standing in the archway to the living room, near the window. “Have a good time?” she asked, obviously unconcerned that she was caught eavesdropping.

“It was fine.”

“More than fine, I'll bet.” Dani motioned toward Skye's blouse, the tail of which was pulled out of her skirt, the buttons half-undone.

“It's none of your business, Dani,” Skye said, and the cockiness in Dani's stance disappeared.