The Return Of Rafe Mackade (The MacKade Brothers 1)

"I was pretty hot news when I opened the shop. What's this flatlander doing taking over old Leroy's place, selling antiques instead of screws and pipe fittings?" She smiled a little. "That got me a lot of browsers, and a good many browsers became customers." She angled her head, watching him. "Something like this should pick business up dramatically for a few weeks."

"I want you to understand what you're getting into."

"It's a little late for that." Because she sensed he needed some prodding, she obliged. "Maybe you're worried about your reputation."

"Right." Dust flew as he sanded. "I was thinking of running for mayor."

"No, your bad-boy rep. 'MacKade must be getting soft, hanging around that nice Bishop woman. Next thing you know, he'll be buying flowers instead of a six-pack. Bet she'll whip him into shape.'"

Curious, he tossed the sandpaper aside, tucked his thumbs in his front pockets and turned to look at her. "Is that what you're going to try to do, Regan? Whip me into shape?"

"Is that what you're worried about, MacKade? That I could?"

It wasn't a comfortable thought. "Legions have tried." He walked over, skimmed a dusty finger down her cheek. "It'd be easier for me to corrupt you, darling. I could have you playing nine-ball at Duff's Tavern in no time."

"I could have you quoting Shelley."

"Shelley who?"

With a chuckle, she rose on her toes to give him a friendly kiss. "Percy Bysshe Shelley. Better watch yourself."

The idea of that was so ridiculous, his tensed shoulders relaxed. "Darling, the day I start spouting poetry's the day Shane's prize hog sprouts wings and flies down Main Street."

She smiled again, kissed him again. "You don't want to make it a bet. Come on, I'd like to take a look at the work in progress."

He snatched her hand. "What kind of bet?"

She laughed, tugged him into the hall. "Rafe, I'm joking. Give me a tour."

"Just hold on. MacKades never back down from a dare."

"I'm daring you to quote Shelley?" She sighed, shook her head. "Okay, I dare you."

"No, that's not how it works." Considering, he lifted her hand, nibbled on her fingers. The flicker of arousal in her eyes inspired him. "I say I can have you so crazy about me within a month that you'll wiggle into a leather miniskirt. A red one. Walk into the tavern for beer and nine-ball."

Arousal turned quickly into amusement. "What odd fantasies you have, MacKade. Can you actually see me in some tarty little skirt, playing pool?"

The smile turned wicked. "Oh, yeah. I can see that just fine. Make sure you wear those really high heels, too. The skinny ones."

"I never wear leather without stilettos. Anything less would be tacky."

"And no bra."

Her laughed puffed out. "Really into this, aren't you?"

"I'm getting there. You'll do it, too." He cupped a hand on her hip to nudge her closer. "Because you'll be crazy about me."

"It's obvious one of us has already lost our mind. Okay." Not one to refuse a challenge, she put a hand on his chest, pushed him back. "I say within that same period of time, I'll have you on your knees, clutching a bouquet of... ah... lilacs—"

"Lilacs?"

"Yes, I'm very fond of lilacs. You'll quote Shelley like a champ."

"What's the winner get?"

"Satisfaction."

He had to smile. "That ought to be enough. Deal."