The Fall of Shane MacKade (The MacKade Brothers 4)

Her eyes popped wide. “With your hands?”

The intriguing little fantasy burst. He laughed so hard he thought his ribs would crack. “No, darling, we’ve got technology now, even out here in the boonies.”

“Glad to hear it.” She turned away, intent on helping him with his lunch, and bumped solidly into the refrigerator. “Damn it. I haven’t done that in ages.” Feeling ridiculous, she snatched her glasses off. “I used to forget I was wearing them and walk into things all the time.”

He sent her a curious look. “I didn’t think you forgot anything.”

“Only about myself. Ask me about anything else, and I’ll give you chapter and verse.”

“Wool.”

She turned and straightened, a platter of ham in her hand from the refrigerator. “Excuse me?”

“Maybe I’m thinking about buying some sheep. Tell me about wool.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He shrugged, reached for the bread. “I guess I found something you don’t know about.”

He didn’t have to look to know her eyes had narrowed. He could hear it in her voice.

“An animal fiber forming the protective covering or fleece of sheep or other hairy mammals such as goats or camels. Wool is mainly obtained by shearing fleece from living animals. Cleaning removes the fatty substance, which is purified to make lanolin. Shall I go on?”

Amused, impressed, he studied her. “That’s very cool. Where were you when I was in high school?”

“In a snooty boarding school in Switzerland, if my calculations are accurate.”

“I imagine they always are,” he murmured. The tone, the cool defense in it, told him this was something to be explored later. She spoke of boarding school the way he had once spoken of liver—as something highly detested.

“It’s not just remembering facts,” he said casually. “You obviously apply them. So how did you decide what to study?”

It was making her uncomfortable; she couldn’t help it. However shallow and politically incorrect it might be, she preferred his interest in her body over his interest in her brain. “Initially, I was told what to study. My parents had a very specific blueprint for my education. Later, I concentrated on what held interest for me.”

Her voice was cool and clipped, but he wasn’t quite ready to let the subject go. He turned to get out the mustard

. “You must have wowed your teachers.”

She remained where she was, still holding the platter. “They were selected for their credentials in working with gifted children.”

“My parents were relieved if I didn’t get hauled down to the principal’s office for a full week. Yours must have been thrilled with you.”

“They’re both very successful in their own right,” she said flatly. “My father is one of the top vascular surgeons in the country, and my mother is a respected industrial chemist. They expected me to excel. Any other questions?”

Swampy ground again, he mused, sorry that he’d put that note of formality in her voice. He turned, looked at her, and was equally sorry he’d put that distant look in her eye. Just now, he wanted to see her smile again.

“Just one,” he said. “What have you got on under that shirt?”

Relief loosened the muscles that had knotted her shoulders. “The usual.”

“Oh, yeah?”

She did smile as she set the platter on the table. “Maybe you’d like to see for yourself.”

“That’s just what I had in mind.”

She nipped around the far side of the table as he came forward. “After lunch.”

His lips curved; his eyes danced. He looked wonderfully dangerous. “I don’t want lunch.”