She drove home, forcing herself not to think about it.
That night, Natalie had passionate, hot dreams of herself and Mack in a big double bed somewhere. She woke sweating and couldn’t go back to sleep. She felt guilty enough to go to church. But when she got home and fixed herself a bowl of soup for lunch, she started thinking about Mack again and couldn’t quit.
The rain was coming down steadily. If the temperature had been just a little lower, it might have turned to snow, even this late in the spring. Montana weather was unpredictable at best.
She got out her biology textbook and grimaced as she tried to read her notes. This was her second course on the subject, and she was uncomfortable about the upcoming exam. No matter how hard she studied, science just went right through her head. Genetics was a nightmare, and animal anatomy was a disaster. Her professor warned them that they’d better spend a lot of time in the lab, because they were going to be expected to trace blood flow through the various arteries and veins and the lymphatic system. Despite the extra hours she’d put in with her small lab study group, she was tearing her hair out trying to remember everything she’d learned over the course of the semester.
She’d been hard at it all afternoon when there was a knock at the front door. It was almost dark, and she was hungry. She’d have to find something to eat, she supposed. Halfway expecting Vivian, she went to the door barefooted, in jeans and a loose button-up green shirt with no makeup on and her hair uncombed. She opened the door and found Mack there, dressed in jeans and a yellow knit shirt, carrying a bag of food.
“Fish and chips,” he announced.
“For me?” she asked, surprised.
“For us,” he countered, elbowing his way in. “I came to coach you.”
“You did?” She was beginning to feel like a parrot.
“For the biology exam,” he continued. “Or don’t you need help?”
“I’m considering around-the-clock prayer and going to class on crutches for a sympathy concession from my professor.”
“I know your professor, and he wouldn’t feel sorry for a dismembered kitten if it was trying to get out of his exam,” he returned. “Do I get to stay?”
She laughed softly. “Sure.”
He went into the kitchen and started getting down plates.
“I’ll make another pot of coffee,” she volunteered. She felt a little shy of him after the night before. They had such intimate memories for two old sparring partners. She glanced at him a little nervously as she went about the ritual of making coffee. “Wasn’t your science fiction show on tonight?” she asked, because she knew he only watched one, and this was the night it ran.
“It’s a rerun,” he said smoothly. “Have you got any ketchup?”
“You’re going to put ketchup on fish?” she asked in mock surprise.
“I don’t eat things I can’t put ketchup on,” he replied.
“That lets out ice cream.”
He tossed her a grin. “It’s good on vanilla.”
“Yuck!”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” he taunted. “You have to experience new things to become well rounded.”
“I’m not eating ketchup on ice cream, whether it rounds people out or not.”
“Suit yourself.” He put fish and chips onto the plates, fished out two napkins and put silverware at two places on the small kitchen table.
“I gather we’re eating in here,” she murmured dryly.
“If we eat in the living room, you’ll want to watch television,” he pointed out. “And if you can find a movie you like, the studying will be over.”
“Spoilsport.”
“I want you to graduate. You’ve worked too hard, too long to slack off at the eleventh hour.”
“I guess you know all about genetics?” she sighed, seating herself while the coffee finished dripping.
“I breed cattle,” he reminded her. “Of course I do.”
She grimaced. “I love biology. You’d think I’d be good at it.”
“You’re good with children,” he said, smiling gently at her. “That’s what matters the most.”
She shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” She studied his lean, dark face with its striking black eye patch. “Are you still half buried in internet college courses?”
“Yes. It’s forensic archaeology this semester. Bones,” he clarified. His eye twinkled. “Want to hear all about it?”
“Not over fish and chips,” she said distastefully.
“Squeamish, are you?”
“Only when I’m eating,” she replied. She glanced at the coffeemaker, noted that the brewing cycle was over and got up to fill two thick white mugs with black coffee. She put his in front of him and seated herself. Neither of them took cream or sugar, so there was no sense in putting them on the table.
“How’s Viv?” she asked as they started on the fish.
“Fuming. Lover boy went home without asking her for another date.” He gave her a curious look. “She thought he might have phoned you.”
“Not a chance,” she said easily. “Besides, he’s not my type.”
“What is? The Markham man?” That was pure venom in his deep voice.
“Dave is nice.”
“Nice.” He finished a bite of fish and washed it down with coffee. “Am I nice?” he persisted.
She met his teasing glance and made a face at him. “You and a den of rattlesnakes.”
“That’s what I thought.” He munched on a chip, leaning back in his chair to give her a long, steady scrutiny. “You’re the only woman I know who improves without makeup.”
“It’s too much work when I’m home alone. I wasn’t expecting company,” she added.
He smiled. “I noticed. How old is that blouse?”
“Three years,” she said with a sigh, noting the faded pattern. “But it’s comfortable.”
His gaze lingered on it just a little too long, narrow and vaguely disturbing.
“I am wearing a bra!” she blurted.
His eyebrows lifted. “Are you really?” he asked in mock surprise.
“Don’t stare.”
He only smiled and finished his fish, oblivious to her glare.
“Tell me about blood groups,” he said when they were on their second cup of coffee.
She did, naming them and describing which groups were compatible and which weren’t.
“Not
