The Fall of Shane MacKade (The MacKade Brothers 4)

“Feather.”

“Car.”

“Truck.”

“City.”

“Noise.”

“Country.”

“Land.”

“Sex.”

“Women.” Then he brought their joined hands to his lips, nipped lightly at her fingers. “Rebecca.”

She ignored the jingling spurt of her pulse. “It’s the first thing that comes to your mind that counts. All in all, I’d say you’re a very elemental man, set in your ways and happy with them. Consider that a thumbnail analysis.”

“Why don’t I try it with you?”

“As soon as you get your degree, farm boy.” She waited a beat. “If you’re hungry, why don’t you try the peanuts?”

“I like your hand better.” To prove it, he continued to nibble, all the way around to her palm. “It’s long and a little bony. Like the rest of you.”

In a casual move, she scooted her chair closer, leaned her head toward his. “Do you really think I’d let you seduce me over a couple of beers at the local tavern?”

“It’s worth a shot.” He brushed his lips over her wrist. “Your pulse is racing, Dr. Knight.”

“A basic chemical reaction to stimulus. Nothing personal.”

“We could make it personal.” He glanced over his shoulder, saw that the pool table was free. “You up for a bet?”

“Depends on the type of bet.”

“How about a game of pool, a friendly wager?”

“Pool?” Her brows drew together. “I don’t know the rules.”

Even better, he thought. “I’ll explain them. You’re supposed to be a quick study. Anybody smart enough to have a bunch of initials after their name should be able to learn a simple game.”

“All right. What’s the bet?”

“I win, we go out to my truck and neck. I’m really hankering for a taste of you.”

She took a slow breath, made sure her eyes stayed cool. “And if I win?”

“What’s your pleasure?”

She considered, then smiled. “When I move my equipment over to the farm, you’ll help me with my project, on a purely professional level.”

“Sure.” With the confidence of a veteran hustler, he rose and led her over to the table. “Since you’re a beginner, I’ll spot you two balls.”

“That’s generous,” she said, without having a clue whether it was or not.

Being a fair man, and one who rarely lost at this particular game, he explained the procedure carefully. That also gave him the opportunity to snuggle up behind her, his mouth at her ear as he gave her instructions on how to hold and use the cue.

“You want control,” he told her, sniffing her hair. “But you don’t want to force it. Keep the stroke smooth.”