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

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СКАЧАТЬ in all that time, going to Devin’s, to the market, walking there and back, you never stopped to call me. It never even occurred to you, did it?”

      “I was—” She opened her mouth, closed it again. “All right, yes. It was my first reaction, but I calmed down and decided against it.”

      “You calmed down?”

      “Yes, I realized it was my problem, and my responsibility to handle it.”

      Her simple honesty sliced through him like a blade. He could almost see himself split in half, one part rage, one part misery. “And after he had you, after he had his hands on you, and hurt you, tried to—”

      He couldn’t say it. If he did, he’d fall to pieces.

      “You didn’t think to call me then, either. I only heard it from Shane because he was in with Devin when the call came through, and he figured I’d be interested.”

      Somehow, she realized, she had hurt him. She’d never meant to. Hadn’t known he could be hurt. “Rafe, I wasn’t thinking at all.” She started forward, stopped, knowing it would do no good to go farther. “I was numb. By the time I could really think again, I was in Devin’s office. It all happened so fast,” she said hurriedly, desperate now to make him see. To understand. “And part of the time it seemed as if I wasn’t really there at all.”

      “You were handling it.”

      “I had to. It wouldn’t have done any good to fall apart.”

      “You’re real good at keeping yourself together.” He walked over, picked up the hammer. “All by yourself.”

      “I have to be. I expect myself to be, because—”

      “You don’t want to be like your mother,” he finished for her.

      It sounded so callous, and so foolish. “All right, yes, that’s partially true. It’s important for me to be a certain way, but that really doesn’t apply to this. If I didn’t call you, it was only because…”

      “You didn’t need me.” His eyes were level, and no longer hot. He had very little heat left inside him. “You don’t need me.”

      A new kind of panic was twisting through her. “That’s not true.”

      “Oh, the sex is great.” He smiled then, coolly, humorlessly. “That’s a need we handle together real well. It’s my problem that I let it get personal. I won’t make the mistake again.”

      “It’s not about sex.”

      “Sure it is.” He plucked a nail out of his pouch, set it in place. “It’s been about sex right from the get-go. That’s all we’ve got. It’s plenty.” He rammed the nail home. “You know where to find me when you’ve got the itch.”

      The blood drained from her cheeks and froze around her heart. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”

      “Your rules, darling. Why complicate a good thing, right?”

      “I don’t want things to be this way between us, Rafe.”

      “Well, now I do. Take it or leave it.” He rammed another nail into wood. She wasn’t going to get the chance to hurt him again, he told himself. No woman hurt him like this.

      She opened her mouth, primed to tell him she’d leave it. Leave him. And couldn’t. Tears burned in her eyes, in her throat. Could there have been a worse possible time, she wondered, for her to realize she was in love with him?

      “Is that the way you really feel?”

      “I try to say what I mean, too.”

      Unwilling to humiliate herself, she swallowed the tears. “And all this is because you’re angry about what happened. About how I dealt with it.”

      “Let’s just say it made everything clear. You don’t want to clutter up your life, right?”

      “No, I—”

      “Hell, neither do I. Call it ego— I’ve got one. I didn’t like you running to my brother instead of me. Like you said, I’ve got it out of my system. We can just go back to the way things were. The way things are.”

      She hadn’t realized how much she could prefer that lethal temper over this calculated disinterest. “I’m not sure that’s possible. I can’t give you an answer right at the moment.”

      “You mull it over, Regan. You do that real well, too.”

      “Would you rather—” She pressed a hand to her lips, waited until she could steady her voice. “If you’d rather suspend our business relationship, I can give you the names of some other dealers in the area.”

      “No reason for that. I’m already behind.” When he turned to her, all he saw was that her eyes were dry, her face was composed. “I can take shipment on this room in about a week, if you’ve got a problem with storage.”

      “That’ll be fine. I’ll make the arrangements.” She turned and reached blindly for the doorknob. Terrified she’d crumble, she walked away quickly. She didn’t start to run until she was outside, with the wind slapping her wet cheeks.

      When he heard the door close below, Rafe sat down on the floor. At the sound of weeping shimmering in the air, he rubbed his hands hard over his face.

      “I know just how you feel,” he muttered.

      It was the first time in his checkered career that anyone had managed to break his heart. His only solace was that he’d make damn sure it was the last.

      The predicted ice storm raged through, glazing the snow, turning the streets to glass. It was days before the temperature inched up enough to soften it. Each night the thermometer would plunge again, hardening and slickening every coated surface.

      It didn’t mean a damn thing to Rafe. The lousy weather gave him an excuse to stay just where he was, work twenty out of every twenty-four hours. With every nail he hammered, every wall he sanded, the house became more his.

      When he couldn’t sleep, even after exhausting himself, he wandered the house with the other ghosts.

      He was too busy to think about Regan. Or so he tried to convince himself.

      Whenever he did, whenever she snuck through his well-fortified defenses, he just worked harder, longer.

      “You look a little ragged, pal.” Devin lit a cigarette and watched Rafe hammer freshly painted baseboard into place. “Remember that book—Dorian Gray? The way it’s starting to look, you’re the picture in the closet, and this house is old Dorian.”

      “Pick up a hammer, or beat it.”

      Instead, Devin crouched, ran a fingertip over the wide, carved trim. “Sure is pretty as a picture. What’d you call this color?”

      “Rose dust.” He framed the words like a dare.

      “Yep, СКАЧАТЬ