The Men of Medicine Ridge - Diana Palmer [9]
She expected Vivian to meet her at the foot of the steps, but Mack came himself. He was wearing a dark suit and he looked elegant and perturbed with his hands deep in his pockets as he waited for her to mount the staircase.
“Don’t you have another dress?” he asked irritably. “Every time you come over here, you wear that one.”
She lifted her chin haughtily. “I work six days a week to put myself through college, pay for gas and utilities and groceries. What’s left over wouldn’t buy a new piece of material for a mouse suit.”
“Excuses, excuses,” he murmured. His eyes narrowed on the low cleavage. “And I still don’t like that neckline,” he said shortly. “It shows too much of your breasts.”
She threw up both hands, almost flinging her small evening bag against the ceiling. “Listen, what’s this hang-up you have about my breasts lately?” she demanded.
He was frowning as he stared at her bodice. “You’re flaunting them.”
“I am not!”
“It’s all right to do it around me,” he continued flatly, “but I don’t want Vivian’s sex maniac boyfriend to start drooling over you at my supper table.”
“I don’t attract that sort of attention,” she muttered.
“With a body like that, you’d attract attention from a dead man,” he said shortly. “Just looking at you makes me ache.”
She didn’t have a comeback. He’d taken the sense right out of her head with that typically blunt remark.
“No sassy reply?” he taunted.
Her eyes ran over him in the becoming suit. “You don’t look like a man with an ache.”
“How would you know?” he asked. “You don’t even understand what an ache is.”
She frowned. “You’re very difficult to understand.”
“It wouldn’t take an experienced woman five seconds to know what I meant,” he told her. “You’re not only repressed, you’re blind.”
Both eyebrows lifted. “I beg your pardon?”
He let out an angry breath. “Oh, hell, forget it.” He turned on his heel. “Are you coming in or not?”
“You’re testy as all get out tonight,” she murmured dryly, following him. “What’s wrong with you? Can’t Glenna get rid of that…ache?”
He stopped and she cannoned into his back, almost tripping in the process. He spun around and caught her by the waist, jerking her right against him. He held her there, and one lean hand went to the small of her back and ground her hips deliberately into his.
He held her gaze while his body tautened and swelled blatantly against her stomach. “Glenna can’t get rid of it because she doesn’t cause it,” he said with undeniable mockery.
“McKinzey Donald Killain!” she gasped, outraged.
“Are you shocked?” he asked quietly.
She tried to move back, but his hand contracted and he groaned sharply, so she stood very still in the sensual embrace.
“Does it hurt you?” she whispered huskily.
His breathing was ragged. “When you move,” he agreed, a ripple running through his powerful frame.
She stared at him curiously, her body relaxing into the hard curve of him as both his hands went to her hips and held her there very gently.
He returned her quiet stare with his good eye narrowed, intent, searching her face. “I’ve never let you feel that before,” he said huskily.
She was fascinated, not only with the intimacy of their position, but also with the strange sense of belonging it gave her to know that she could arouse him so easily. It didn’t embarrass