“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 did?” Jared tossed his legs up over the settee. A slow smile curved his lips. “Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah…” he said again, with more feeling. “It’s all coming back to me. When’d she get to be your woman?”
Rafe heaved his jeans aside, started on his shirt. “That’s what comes from living in the city. You’re out of the loop, bro. She’s mine now.”
“Does she know that?”
“I know.” With his eyes closed, he dragged the sleeping bag over him. “I’m thinking about keeping her.”
Jared choked on his beer. “You mean like a wife?”
“I mean like keeping her,” Rafe repeated. No way was he going to try to get his tongue around a word like wife. “Keeping things the way they are now.”
This was interesting, Jared mused. And even more fun than brooding. “And how are things now?”
“Things are good.” Rafe could smell her on the quilted material of the sleeping bag. “I’m still going to have to break your face. It’s the principle.”
“Understood.” Jared stretched out, settled back. “Then again, I never did pay you back for talking Sharilyn Bester, now Fenniman, into riding out to the quarry with you to skinny-dip.”
“I was just easing her broken heart after you’d dumped her.”
“Yeah. But it’s the principle.”
Considering, Rafe scratched his face. “You got a point. But Sharilyn, pretty as she is, is no Regan Bishop.”
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