Taste of Passion (Madaris Novels) (12 page)

Mac was a beautiful woman and he couldn’t blame any man for being interested in her, but as far as Luke was concerned, those men could effectively count her out as a possible conquest. Whether he laid claim to her or not, she would still be off limits to any of them.

As if she could feel him thinking about her, he saw Mac glance first at the porch and then scan the area before looking at the kitchen window and seeing him standing there. Their gazes met and held and immediately he felt an intense stirring in his midsection before his entire body began to throb. They had been avoiding each other lately, living under the same roof but exchanging few words over the dinner table. In the beginning he had been fine with that, finding the arrangement acceptable. But now . . .

Hell. He wanted her. And he wasn’t quite sure how to go about getting his body to understand that he couldn’t have her. She was off limits to him just as much as she was to Wyatt and Tanner, but for different reasons. He didn’t see her as a conquest. He saw Mac as a threat. She was a threat to everything he had worked so hard to achieve for the past eight years.

All he had ever wanted in life was to be a rodeo star and
he was determined to keep climbing to the top for as long as he wanted. Thanks to Uncle Jake he had a trust fund as well as a number of successful investments. In other words, at thirty-three he was pretty well off and could afford to live his life however he chose while enjoying his passion. And his passion was the rodeo. But lately he found his passion trying to shift to something else. Or, more precisely, to someone else.

When Mac finally broke eye contact with him to listen to something Skye was saying, he released a deep sigh. The main thing he needed to concentrate on was getting better so he could pack up and move on.

Moving on wouldn’t be easy, but it was something that he had to do.

Mackenzie didn’t get a lot of overnight guests at her ranch so she was having the time of her life. The twins were always fun to be around and Skye was a jewel. She had assisted her in preparing dinner and she had been pleased at how the three men had eaten it all up, even asking for seconds.

Because her ranch house was small, sleeping arrangements had been a challenge. She had insisted that Slade and Skye take her room, and she would sleep on the love seat that converted to a bed in her office. Blade had agreed to the sofa in the living room.

She had always known how close Luke, Blade, and Slade were, and she always enjoyed seeing them together and being part of the camaraderie they shared. After dinner they had watched one of those reality shows, and while she and Skye had enjoyed it, the cousins had basically pulled it apart, speaking out and saying what they hadn’t liked about it.

Afterward, they sat around eating bowls of popcorn while Slade and Blade told them about this new construction job they were bidding on. Skye, an accountant, was working full-time for Madaris Construction, and from what
Mac could gather, she enjoyed being part of her husband’s company.

“I understand you had a bit of trouble this week, Mac. Luke told us about it,” Slade said when the room had gotten quiet.

She sighed. “Yes, and I’m hoping whoever did it thinks he’s made his point and will keep on trucking.”

“But what if they don’t? Especially since you’re moving ahead with the case. What if they decided to strike again?” Blade asked.

Mac hadn’t wanted to think of that possibility. “Let’s just hope that they don’t. The police are investigating, and although they say they don’t have any leads, I’m hoping they’ll eventually find the person responsible.”

Later that night while lying in bed, Mac couldn’t help but think about Slade and Skye’s relationship and wish she could have found something similar for herself. It was obvious that Slade adored his wife, that she was his world and that he loved her the way a man was supposed to love a woman. At the same time, she could tell that Slade was the most important person in Skye’s life. The one person she could depend on if others failed.

Mackenzie could now admit that was the kind of relationship, the kind of ever-lasting love, she’d thought she had found with Lawrence, only to discover that for him, it had been about his ego first and opportunity last. During the two years they’d been together he had enjoyed having her by his side, putting her on display as his token girlfriend. But then, when opportunity came knocking and he got the chance to marry into wealth, he had dumped her like yesterday’s garbage. He didn’t mind being the spoiled rich girl’s “yes” man if it meant he would one day inherit daddy’s money.

Sometimes she wondered what she’d ever seen in the jerk in the first place.

Her thoughts then shifted to what Blade had said regarding the break-in at her office. What if the person decided to strike again? She shifted in bed, telling herself
that she couldn’t worry about that possibility, that things wouldn’t go that far. Besides, she had taken on cases before where the opposing side had tried using scare tactics. It hadn’t worked then and it wouldn’t work now.

Mackenzie wasn’t the only one thinking about what Blade had said. Long after everyone had retired for the night Luke lay in bed thinking about it and wondering if the person would attempt something else annoying.

To ease the slight ache in the upper part of his body, Luke shifted position. Although she had gotten pretty upset by what had happened, Mac hadn’t let the incident deter her from representing her client. She’d even revealed a vulnerability that she probably wished she hadn’t, especially in front of him, but still her inner strength and fierce determination would ensure that justice was served. Mackenzie Standfield was one gutsy woman and he couldn’t help but admire her.

However, what Blade had said still troubled him. He just hoped the responsible party would leave well enough alone, but for some reason, Luke wasn’t entirely convinced he would.

“Mr. Madaris, are you trying to be difficult?”

Luke’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at the person the hospital had assigned as his physical therapist. The woman had to be his mother’s age, or close to it, which was around fifty-one. But the similarity stopped there. Sarah Madaris was petite, soft-spoken, and easygoing. This woman, who had shown up a few hours ago and introduced herself as Margaret Stone, had to be a descendant of Attila the Hun. No one wanted to see progress more than Luke, but if he didn’t know any better he’d think the woman was trying to kill him.

Since she asked the question he decided to provide her with an answer. “No, ma’am, but you’re asking me to put my knee in a position that hurts like the dickens.”

She frowned. “It all hurts, Mr. Madaris. In the end your entire body is going to hurt. But then you’ll get better. And I assume you want to get better, don’t you? Or will you be satisfied with using a cane for the rest of your life?”

An image flashed in Luke’s mind of being in the arena, but standing on the sidelines, leaning on his cane, while he watched other rodeo riders compete.

A fierce frown touched Luke’s brow. This woman definitely had it all wrong. There would not be a cane in his future. He intended to compete again, not stand on the sidelines. “I won’t be using a cane,” he said in a firm and decisive tone. “I’m competing in the rodeo in September.”

“Not at the rate you’re going, you aren’t. I don’t want you to impel your progress more than you should, but you’ll have to bite the bullet and take a little pain.”

His frown deepened. She was goading him, trying to make him mad. And it was working. He’d been pretty pissed off for around an hour or so now. “With all due respect, ma’am, I
am
taking pain and I’ve been taking more than just a little. Hell, I’m doing the best I can here.”

“Not good enough. I want more.”

He stared into her eyes and found not one ounce of pity. Not even a gram. “Fine, I’ll give you more,” he all but snarled. Even after saying the words he wasn’t sure how he would give her more, but dammit, he would even if it killed him, which was a very strong possibility judging from the way his knee was aching.

Suddenly, she smiled. Actually smiled. And then she chuckled and said, “Now we’re talking, cowboy.”

“How did your physical therapy go today, Luke?”

Luke glanced over the dinner table at Mackenzie. They were following their regular routine. She had come in from work. He had fixed dinner—a casserole—and then they had sat down and eaten together. Afterward they would share kitchen duty before going their separate ways. Usually he would go back to his bedroom and watch ESPN, and she would check with Theo to see how things had gone on the ranch that day. To say they were deliberately putting distance between them was an understatement.

But tonight he intended to put an end to it. They both knew the root of their problem and needed to talk about it. This was one situation where he didn’t buy into the theory that with some things you needed to leave well enough alone.

“It was rough going at first,” he finally answered. “I thought the woman wanted to kill me. But once I figured out she was actually trying to help me, that she and I had the same goal, then Margaret and I got along beautifully.”

He watched Mac’s brows lift as she momentarily stopped eating. “Margaret?”

“Yes.”

“The two of you are on a first-name basis?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She resumed eating, at least she put some ground beef on her fork before asking, “Umm, how old is she?”

“I didn’t ask. But fairly young.” Okay, so he was stretching it a bit. But she didn’t have to know that he was comparing her to his great-grandmother’s age, and compared to Mama Laverne, Margaret was fairly young.

Mac stopped eating again and met his gaze. “And she’s able to handle you all by herself.”

He thought about all the goading and prodding Margaret had done that day and he couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, yeah, she’s able to handle me . . . all by herself.”

It must have been the smile, Luke figured, that had given Mac the wrong impression. Or it could have been the tone he’d used when he made the comment or the way he’d said the words. All he knew was that a flash of fire suddenly appeared in her eyes. And it was the kind of fire a man recognized when a woman was pea green with envy.

It stirred his insides to see that there was a chance she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she wanted him to think. But that worked the other way around too. He wasn’t indifferent to her as well. In fact, he’d been trying like heck for the past week not to pull her into his arms and give her the kiss he thought they both needed. He could go even further and imagine something else they probably both needed, but he refused to go there. The thought of a kiss was all he could handle for now.

“Does the thought of Margaret being my therapist bother you?” he decided to ask after the room got quiet, except for the sound of her fork hitting against her plate each time she scooped up some of the casserole. A sure sign that she was upset.

“No, why should it bother me?” she asked, not looking up at him.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” For some reason her little bout of jealousy didn’t rile him the way Nadine Turner’s had. In fact, he found it endearing because Mac had nothing to be jealous about. If he had a mind to be interested in a long-term affair with a woman, she would be his choice, hands down. Unfortunately, Nadine had been used to getting whatever she wanted—her daddy had made sure of it—and she had assumed Luke was her possession, so it had come as a blow to discover that he wasn’t.

“I’m not telling you anything,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. He inwardly smiled. She hadn’t denied that what he’d said about Margaret had bothered her, just that she wasn’t going to tell him why it did.

Luke met her gaze. He studied her expression. She was mad. And she probably didn’t have a clue as to why. But he did. He knew the meaning of sexual frustration. At least he’d gotten a whopping taste of it being around her. How long had he been here with her? Three weeks?

“I could get it out of you if I want.”

She blinked as if confused. “Excuse me?”

He had no problem repeating himself. “I said that I could get it out of you if I want.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You can try,” she said mockingly, her tone haughty.

Suddenly, he felt blood rush through his veins, felt heat settle right smack in his groin. Since she had invited him to do so, he would. There was nothing wrong in trying. Without taking his eyes off her, he pushed his chair back and stood up. He knew the moment she realized that she had made a mistake.

Too late
.

“I think I will try, Mac. What do I have to lose?”

She placed her fork down and stood as well. “Luke . . .” She said his name as if to calm him down, make him see reason. But what she evidently didn’t realize was that he
was calm and he did see reason. Especially now that he had made his mind up about what he was going to do.

He watched her back up another step. “I think we should talk about this,” she said.

He gave a crooked smile. That was cute. Now she wanted to talk. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Well, I do. And you don’t scare me,” she said, backing up even more when he moved around the table.

“I’m not trying to scare you, Mac,” he said, taking a step toward her and noticing that his limp, even after such an intense physical therapy session, was less profound.