The Heart of Devin MacKade by Nora Roberts

Author:Nora Roberts
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin (UK) Limited
Published: 1996-10-10T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

He really should just give it up and go back and crawl into his cot. That was what Devin told himself, but he kept right on sitting at his desk with his nose in a book. The story just wasn’t holding his interest. It wasn’t the fault of the author; nothing could have held his interest just then.

He knew it was foolish, and useless, but he’d had nothing and no one to vent his temper on. So there it was, still curdling inside him. He’d actually considered heading out to the farm and picking a fight with Shane. It would have been easy. Too easy. So he’d decided against it.

He told himself it was because he was a better man than that. He’d have done that sort of thing in his teens—hell, in his twenties. The fact was, he’d probably have done it last week.

But it just didn’t suit his mood now.

He was just going to sit here, in his quiet office, with his feet up on his desk and the chair kicked back, and read. Even if it killed him.

It was after ten on a weeknight, which meant it was doubtful any calls were going to come in to liven things up. He didn’t have to be there, but he liked the solitude of his office at night, the familiarity of it. And the fact that he could be there, behind the desk instead of behind the bars.

He hadn’t even turned the radio on, as he often did to bring a little music and company into the night. The only light was the one on his desk, the metal gooseneck lamp aimed at the book in his hands. The book he wasn’t reading.

He considered getting up and brewing coffee, since he wasn’t going to bed. But it seemed like too much effort.

It was the first time in his life he could remember being so angry and so tired at the same time. Usually temper energized him, got his blood up and his adrenaline sizzling. Now he was sapped. He supposed it was because most of the anger was self-directed, though he still had plenty left over for Cassie.

When a woman hurt a man, it was the most natural thing in the world to cover it with anger.

He’d told other women he loved them. He wouldn’t have denied it. The fact was that he’d tried to love other women. He’d worked hard at it for a space of time. The last thing he’d wanted to do was moon around over something he couldn’t have.

Which was just what he was doing now.

Sulking, his mother would have called it, he thought with a grimace. He missed her more just now than he had since she’d died. And he’d missed her quite a bit over the years.

She’d have given him a cuff on the ear, he supposed, or she’d have laughed. She’d have told him to get his sorry butt up and do something instead of brooding over what he should have done.

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