Read Online The Complete Mackenzie Collection by Linda Howard - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Howard
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her. She maintained a sedate pace, following the two-lane highway out of town, then turning off on the narrow secondary road that led to her house. She had to see his truck behind her, but she didn’t give any indication that she knew she was being followed. Instead she drove straight to her house, carefully turned in at the snow-packed driveway and guided the car around to her customary parking spot behind the house.
Wolf shook his head as he pulled in behind her and got out of the truck. She was already out of her car, and she smiled at him as she fished the house key out of her purse. Didn’t she remember what he’d told her? He couldn’t believe that he’d told her he’d served time for rape and still she greeted him as calmly as if he were a priest, though they were the only two people for miles around.
“Damn it all, lady!” he barked at her, his long legs carrying him to her in a few strides. “Didn’t you listen to anything I said Saturday?”
“Yes, of course I listened. That doesn’t mean I agreed.” She unlocked the trunk and smiled at him. “While you’re here, would you please carry this box in for me? I’d really appreciate it.”
“That’s why I stopped,” he snapped. “I knew you couldn’t handle it.”
His ill temper didn’t seem to faze her. She merely smiled at him again as he lifted the box onto his shoulder, then led the way to the back door and opened it.
The first thing he noticed was that the house had a fresh, sweet smell to it, instead of the musty smell of an old house that had stood empty for a long time. His head lifted, and against his will he inhaled the faint scent. “What’s that smell?”
She stopped and sniffed delicately. “What smell?”
“That sweet smell. Like flowers.”
“Flowers? Oh, that must be the lilac sachet I put in all the drawers to freshen them. So many of the sachets are overpowering, but the lilacs are just right, don’t you think?”
He didn’t know anything about sachets, whatever they were, but if she put them in all the drawers, then her underwear must smell like lilacs, too. Her sheets would smell like lilacs and the warm scent of her body. His body responded strongly to the thought, and he cursed, then set the box down with a thud. Though the house was chilly, he felt sweat break out on his forehead.
“Let me turn up the heat,” she said, ignoring his cursing. “The furnace is old and noisy, but I don’t have any wood for the fireplace, so it’ll have to do.” As she talked, she left the kitchen and turned down a hallway, her voice growing fainter. Then she was back, and she smiled at him again. “It’ll be warm in just a minute. Would you like a cup of tea?” After giving him a measuring look she said, “Make that coffee. You don’t look like a tea-drinking man.”
He was already warm. He was burning up. He pulled off his gloves and tossed them on the kitchen table. “Don’t you know everybody in that town will be talking about you now? Lady, I’m Indian, and I’m an ex-con—”
“Mary,” she interrupted briskly.
“What?”
“My name is Mary, not ‘lady.’ Mary Elizabeth.” She added the second name out of habit because Aunt Ardith had always called her by both names. “Are you certain you don’t want coffee? I need something to warm up my insides.”
His hat joined the gloves, and he raked an impatient hand through his hair. “All right. Coffee.”
Mary turned to run the water and measure the coffee, using the activity to hide the sudden color in her face. His hair. She felt stupid, but she’d hardly noticed his hair before. Maybe she’d been too upset, then too bemused, or maybe it was just that his midnight-black eyes had taken her attention, but she hadn’t noticed before how long his hair was. It was thick and black and shiny, and touched his broad shoulders. He looked magnificently pagan; she had immediately pictured him with his powerful chest and legs bare, his body covered only by a
Wolf shook his head as he pulled in behind her and got out of the truck. She was already out of her car, and she smiled at him as she fished the house key out of her purse. Didn’t she remember what he’d told her? He couldn’t believe that he’d told her he’d served time for rape and still she greeted him as calmly as if he were a priest, though they were the only two people for miles around.
“Damn it all, lady!” he barked at her, his long legs carrying him to her in a few strides. “Didn’t you listen to anything I said Saturday?”
“Yes, of course I listened. That doesn’t mean I agreed.” She unlocked the trunk and smiled at him. “While you’re here, would you please carry this box in for me? I’d really appreciate it.”
“That’s why I stopped,” he snapped. “I knew you couldn’t handle it.”
His ill temper didn’t seem to faze her. She merely smiled at him again as he lifted the box onto his shoulder, then led the way to the back door and opened it.
The first thing he noticed was that the house had a fresh, sweet smell to it, instead of the musty smell of an old house that had stood empty for a long time. His head lifted, and against his will he inhaled the faint scent. “What’s that smell?”
She stopped and sniffed delicately. “What smell?”
“That sweet smell. Like flowers.”
“Flowers? Oh, that must be the lilac sachet I put in all the drawers to freshen them. So many of the sachets are overpowering, but the lilacs are just right, don’t you think?”
He didn’t know anything about sachets, whatever they were, but if she put them in all the drawers, then her underwear must smell like lilacs, too. Her sheets would smell like lilacs and the warm scent of her body. His body responded strongly to the thought, and he cursed, then set the box down with a thud. Though the house was chilly, he felt sweat break out on his forehead.
“Let me turn up the heat,” she said, ignoring his cursing. “The furnace is old and noisy, but I don’t have any wood for the fireplace, so it’ll have to do.” As she talked, she left the kitchen and turned down a hallway, her voice growing fainter. Then she was back, and she smiled at him again. “It’ll be warm in just a minute. Would you like a cup of tea?” After giving him a measuring look she said, “Make that coffee. You don’t look like a tea-drinking man.”
He was already warm. He was burning up. He pulled off his gloves and tossed them on the kitchen table. “Don’t you know everybody in that town will be talking about you now? Lady, I’m Indian, and I’m an ex-con—”
“Mary,” she interrupted briskly.
“What?”
“My name is Mary, not ‘lady.’ Mary Elizabeth.” She added the second name out of habit because Aunt Ardith had always called her by both names. “Are you certain you don’t want coffee? I need something to warm up my insides.”
His hat joined the gloves, and he raked an impatient hand through his hair. “All right. Coffee.”
Mary turned to run the water and measure the coffee, using the activity to hide the sudden color in her face. His hair. She felt stupid, but she’d hardly noticed his hair before. Maybe she’d been too upset, then too bemused, or maybe it was just that his midnight-black eyes had taken her attention, but she hadn’t noticed before how long his hair was. It was thick and black and shiny, and touched his broad shoulders. He looked magnificently pagan; she had immediately pictured him with his powerful chest and legs bare, his body covered only by a
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