The Fall of Shane MacKade (The MacKade Brothers 4)

With that she stepped into the barn. Stalls and concrete floors that sloped. Hay, motes of dust that tickled the nose. The light was dimmer here, and the scent of animal stronger.

Rebecca strolled toward the stalls, then let out a shriek as an enormous bovine head poked over a door and mooed at her.

“She’s got an infection,” Shane said, and wisely disguised a chuckle with a cough. “Had to separate her from the rest of the stock.”

Rebecca’s heart was slowly making its way from her throat back down to its proper place. “Oh. She’s huge.”

“Actually, she’s on the small side. You can touch her. Here, top of the head.” Taking Rebecca’s reluctant hand, he held it between his and the cow. Rebecca was hard-pressed to decide which texture was tougher.

“Will she be all right?”

“Yeah, she’s coming along.”

“You treat the stock yourself? Don’t you use a vet?”

“Not for every little thing.” He liked the feel of her hand under his, the way it tensed, then slowly relaxed. The way her fingers were spread now and stroking curiously over the uninterested cow. “You don’t run to the doctor every time you sneeze, do you?”

“No.” She smiled, turned her head. “But I don’t imagine you can find cow antibiotics at the local pharmacy.”

“Feed and grain store carries most of what you need.” But what he was interested in at the moment was the way she looked at him. So cool, so objective. She presented a challenge he couldn’t resist. Deliberately he skimmed his gaze down to her mouth. “What do you do with all those degrees Regan says you have?”

“Collect them.” With an effort, she kept her voice light. “And use them like building blocks, to get to the next.”

“Why?”

“Because knowledge is power.” Remembering that, and using the knowledge that he was teasing her with his easy sexuality, gave her the power to step aside. “You know, I am interested in the farm itself, and when we’ve got more time I hope you’ll show me more of it. But what I’d really like to see now is the house and the kitchen where the young soldier died.”

“We mopped up the blood a long time ago.”

“That’s good to hear.” She cocked her head. “Is there a problem?”

Yeah, there was a problem. There were a couple of them. The first was that she was flicking him off as if he were a fly. “Regan asked me to cooperate, so I will. For her. But I don’t much care for the idea of you poking around my house looking for ghosts.”

“Certainly you’re not afraid of what I might find.”

“I’m not afraid of anything.” She’d touched a nerve. A raw one. “I said I just don’t like it.”

“Why don’t we go in, you can offer me a cold drink, and we’ll see if we can come to some sort of compromise?”

It was hard to argue with reason. He took her hand again, more out of habit than in flirtation. By the time they reached the back door, he’d decided to give flirtation another shot. She smelled damn good, for a scientist.

He’d never kissed a scientist, he mused. Unless you counted Bess Trulane, the dental hygienist. He had a feeling that cool, sarcastic mouth of Rebecca’s would be quite tasty.

“Got some iced tea,” he offered.

“Great.” It was all she said as she stood just inside the door, looking around with dark, seeking eyes.

Something. She was sure there was something here, some sensation just out of reach, blocked, she thought, by that almost overpowering male aura Shane exuded. It clouded things, she thought, annoyed. It certainly clouded the brain.

But there was something here, amid the scrubbed tiles, the spotless counters, the old but sparkling appliances.

It was a good-size kitchen, homey, with its glass-fronted cupboards showing the everyday dishes. What she imagined one would call a family kitchen—plenty of elbow room, big wooden table, sturdy chairs with cane seats. The morning paper was still on the table, where he had left it, she supposed, after reading it with his morning coffee.

There were little pots of green plants on the windowsill. She recognized them by scent, as well as sight. Rosemary, basil, thyme. The man grew herbs in his kitchen. It would have made her smile, if she hadn’t been trying to get beyond him into what the room held for her.

Shane held two glasses filled with golden tea as he frowned at her. Those eyes of hers were sharp, as alert as a doe’s. And her shoulders, under that oversize jacket, were stiff as boards. It made him nervous, and just a little angry, that she was studying his things and seeing something that he didn’t.

“Never seen a kitchen before?”