The Wedding In White. Diana Palmer

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      Mack looked much older than twenty-eight. He’d had so much responsibility on his broad shoulders that he’d been robbed of a real childhood. His mother had died young, and his father had succumbed to drink, and then became abusive to the kids. Mack had stood up to him, many times taking blows meant for the other three. In the end, their father had suffered a stroke and been placed in a nursing home while Mack kept the younger Killains together and supported them by working as a mechanic in town. When Mack was twenty-one, his father had died, leaving Mack with three teenagers to raise.

      Meanwhile, he’d invested carefully, bought good stock and started breeding his own strain of Red Angus. He was successful at everything he touched. His only run of real bad luck had been when he’d been thrown from his horse in the pasture with a big Angus bull. When the bull had charged him and he’d tried to catch it by the horns to save himself, he’d been gored in the face. He’d lost his sight, but fortunately only in one eye. The rest of him was still pure, splendid male, and women found him very appealing physically. He was every woman’s secret desire, until he opened his mouth. His lack of diplomacy kept him single.

      Natalie left Vivian crying in the living room and went to find Mack. He was on one knee in a stall on the cobblestones of the spacious, clean barn, ruffling the fur of one of his border collies. He was a kind man, for the most part, and he did love animals. Every stray in Baker County made a beeline for the Killain place, and there were always furry friends around to pet. The border collies were working dogs, of course, and used to help herd cattle on the vast plains. But Mack adored them, and it was mutual.

      Natalie leaned against the doorway of the barn with her arms folded and smiled at the picture he made with the pup.

      As if he sensed her presence, his head rose. She couldn’t see his eyes under the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat, but she knew he was probably glaring at her. He didn’t like letting people see how very human he was.

      “Slumming, Miss Educator?” he drawled, rising gracefully to his feet.

      She only smiled, used to his remarks. “Seeing how the other half lives, Mr. Cattle Rancher,” she shot back. “Vivian says you won’t let the love of her life through the front door.”

      “So what are you, a virgin sacrifice to appease me?” he asked, approaching her with that quick, menacing stride that made her heart jump.

      “You aren’t supposed to know that I’m a virgin,” she pointed out when he stopped just an arm’s length away.

      He let out a nasty word and smiled mockingly, waiting to see what she’d say.

      She ignored the bad language, refusing to rise to the bait. She grinned at him instead.

      That disconcerted him, apparently. He pushed his hat over his jet black hair and stared at her. He had Lakota blood two generations back. He could speak that language as fluently as French and German. He took classes from far-flung colleges on the internet. He was a great student; everything fascinated him.

      His bold gaze roamed down her slender body in the neat, fairly loose jeans and soft yellow V-neck sweater she wore. She had short dark hair, very wavy, and emerald green eyes. She wasn’t pretty, but her eyes and her soft bow mouth were. Her figure drew far more attention than she was comfortable with, especially from Mack.

      “Viv’s would-be boyfriend got the Henry girl pregnant last year,” he said abruptly.

      Her gasp made his eye narrow.

      “You didn’t have a clue, did you?” he mused. “You and Viv are just alike.”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “Pitiful taste in men,” he added.

      She gave him a look of mock indignation. “And I was just going to say how very sexy you were!”

      “Pull the other one,” he said with amazing coldness.

      Her eyebrows arched. “My, we’re touchy today!”

      He glared at her. “What do you want? If it’s an invitation to supper for Viv’s heartthrob, he can’t come unless you do.”

      That surprised her. He usually couldn’t wait to shoo her off the place. “Three’s a crowd?” she murmured dryly.

      “Four. I live here,” he pointed out. He frowned. “More than four,” he continued. “Vivian, Bob and Charles and me. You and the would-be Romeo make six.”

      “That’s splitting hairs,” she pointed out. “You’re suggesting that I come over to make the numbers even, of course,” she chided.

      His face didn’t betray any emotion at all. “Wear a dress.”

      That really surprised her. “Listen, you aren’t planning any pagan sacrificial rites at a volcano?” she asked, rubbing in the virgin sacrifice notion.

      “Something low-cut,” he persisted, his gaze narrow and faintly sensual on her pert breasts under the sweater.

      “Stop staring at my breasts!” she burst out indignantly, crossing her arms over them.

      “Wear a bra,” he returned imperturbably.

      Her face flamed. “I am wearing a bra!”

      His black eye twinkled. “Wear a thicker bra.”

      She glared at him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you!”

      He lifted an eyebrow and his eye slid down her body appraisingly. “Lust,” he said matter-of-factly. “I haven’t had sex for so long, I’m not even sure I remember how.”

      She couldn’t handle a remark like that. They shared such intimate memories for two old sparring partners. She couldn’t fence with him verbally when he let his voice drop like that, an octave lower than normal. It was so sensuous that it made her knees weak. So was the memory of that one unforgettable night they’d shared. Warning signals shot to her brain.

      He sighed theatrically when her cheeks turned pink. “So much for all that sophistication you pretend to have,” he mused.

      She cleared her throat. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that to me,” she said worriedly.

      “Maybe I shouldn’t,” he conceded. His hand went out and pushed a strand of hair behind her small ear. She jerked at his touch, and he moved a step closer. “I’d never hurt you, Natalie,” he said quietly.

      She managed a nervous smile. “I’d like that in writing,” she said, trying to move away without making it look as if she was intimidated, even though she was.

      The barn door was at her back, though, and there was no way to escape. He knew that. She could see it on his face as he slid one long arm beside her head and rested his hand by her ear.

      Her heart jumped into her throat. She looked at him with all her darkest fears reflecting in her emerald eyes.

      He searched them without speaking for a long moment. “Carl would never have made you happy,” he said suddenly. “His people had money. They wouldn’t have let him marry an orphan with no assets.”

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