The Return Of Rafe Mackade

The room exploded with whoops and whistles. Some brave soul made a suggestion that had Rafe's lips peeling back in a growl. 'That does it.'

He grabbed her cue, tossed it at Devin, then clamped a hand over hers to drag her toward the door.

'But we haven't finished the game,' she protested, forced to scramble on the skinny heels to keep up with him.

He yanked his jacket from the hook by the door and bundled it around her. 'Put this on before I have to kill somebody.' She was still struggling with it when he shoved her through the door.

Devin let out a long, appreciative sigh. 'He's a dead man.'

'Yeah.' Shane rubbed a hand over his stomach. 'Did you ever notice her—'

In Rafe's stead, Jared rapped him with a cue.

'I have my car,' Regan began, while Rafe towed her along.

He dragged open the door of his own. 'Get in. Now.'

'I could follow you.'

'Now.'

'All right.' It wasn't a simple operation to get into his car. Snug red leather rode higher as she tried for graceful and dignified as she lowered herself into the seat. Rafe ground his teeth audibly. 'Where are we going?'

'I'm taking you home.' He slammed her door, stormed around the hood, then slammed his own hard enough to rock the car. 'And if you're smart, you won't talk to me.'

She was smart When his brakes squealed at the base of her steps, she stayed where she was. There was no possible way she could maneuver herself out of the tiny sports car without help.

He gave it to her, though no one would have called the hard yank a gentlemanly gesture. 'Keys,' he snapped, then snatched them out of her hand and unlocked the door himself.

Miffed, she strode in ahead of him. 'I assume you're coming in, so—'

She was rapped back against the door, his mouth hotly devouring hers. The heels put them head-to-head, heat to heat, with a pressure that fried his already overheated brain. Both his mouth and his hands were hard, possessive. He could only think of branding her his.

His breath was ragged when he jerked back. He'd be damned if she'd work him this way again, make him a victim of his own needs.

He tugged his jacket off her shoulders, tossed it aside. 'Get out of those clothes.'

Something in her sank. With her lashes lowered, she reached around for the zipper of the skirt.

'No, I didn't mean— God.' If she peeled herself out of that leather in front of him, he was lost. It was the confusion in her eyes that had him leveling his voice. 'I meant I'd appreciate it if you changed into something else. Please.'

'I thought you—'

'I know what you thought.' He was dying here. 'Just change, so I can talk to you.'

'All right.'

He knew it was a mistake to watch her walk toward the bedroom. But he was only human.

Inside, Regan stepped out of the ankle-breaking shoes, stripped off the red leather. It was good to breathe again. She wanted to be amused, at both of them, but she felt so incredibly stupid. She'd made a spectacle of herself, thrown aside every scrap of dignity. For nothing.

No, she thought as she fastened on pleated trousers. For him. She'd done it for him, and he didn't even have the sense to appreciate it.

When she came back in, face washed, her hair brushed back into place, an ivory sweater tucked neatly into the waistband of black slacks, he was pacing.

'I want to know what you were thinking of,' he said without preamble. 'Just what you were thinking of, walking into a bar dressed like that?'

'It was your idea,' she tossed back, but he was too busy clenching his jaw and muttering to himself to listen.

'Five more minutes in there, and we'd have had a riot. I'd have started it myself. I've seen you naked, and I'm not sure I knew you were built like that. Now everybody in town's going to know.'

'You said you wanted—'

'I don't give a damn what they say about me, but nobody's going to talk behind their hands about you. Where the hell did you get that skirt?' he exploded. 'Tarts R Us?'

'Well, really...'

'Yeah, really. And leaning over the pool table that way, so everyone was looking at your—'

Her eyes narrowed to slits. 'Watch it, MacKade.'

'Now I'm going to have to go bash all of my brothers' brains in for what they were thinking.'

'You like bashing their brains in,'' she retorted.

'That's beside the point.'

'I'll give you a point.'

She picked up her favorite Milton vase and tossed it to the floor. Rather than smashing satisfactorily, it bounced and rolled on the dainty floral rug. But the gesture shut him up.

'I humiliated myself for you. It nearly took a crowbar to get me into that ridiculous skirt, and I think I bruised my intestines. I'll probably never get all this makeup out of my pores, my arches are screaming, and I have not an ounce of dignity left. I hope you're satisfied.'

'Shut up. This time you just shut up. You wanted me to be that way, so I tried. I was willing to be what you wanted, and now all you can do is stand there and criticize and worry about gossip. Well, go to hell!'

She plopped down in a chair, because her feet were cramping painfully.

He waited until he was sure she'd run down, watched her sniffle and rub her bare feet. 'You did that for me?'

'No, I did it because I like teetering on four-inch heels and going around half-naked in the middle of winter. I live for it,' she said nastily.

'You did it to get to me.'

The bout of temper had drained her. She sat back, closed her eyes. 'I did it because I'm crazy about you. Just like you said I'd be. Now go away and leave me alone. You'll have to wait till tomorrow to beat your chest and drag me off by the hair. I'm too tired.'

He studied her a moment, then walked to the door and shut it quietly behind him.

She didn't bother to get up, or even to move. She didn't feel like crying. If she'd been ridiculous, she would weather it. She'd given him everything now, and there was no taking it back. Why should she bother? She'd never stop loving him.

She heard the door open again, and kept her eyes closed. 'I really am tired, Rafe. Can't you gloat tomorrow?'

Something fell into her lap. Regan blinked her eyes open and stared at the bouquet of lilacs.

'They're not real,' he told her. 'You can't get them in February. I've had them in the trunk of my car for a few days, so they're cold.'

'They're lovely.' Slowly she ran her fingers over the chilly silk blooms. 'A few days,' she murmured, and looked up again.

'Yeah, so?' He scowled, jammed his hands in his pockets, shifted. 'Man.' He thought facing a noose would be easier than what he was about to do. It certainly couldn't burn his throat any less.

He got down on his knees.

'What are you doing?'

'Just keep quiet,' he warned her. 'And if you laugh, you pay.' Mortified, he swore under his breath, dragged a hand through his hair. And bit the bullet.

''When I arose and saw the dawn, I sighed for thee.''

'Rafe...'

'Don't interrupt me.' Miserably embarrassed, he glared at her. 'Now I have to start over.'

'But you don't have to—'

'Regan.'