The fall of Shane MacKade by Nora Roberts

Author:Nora Roberts
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction & related items, Brothers, Romance: Modern, Fiction, Romance, Women college teachers, Romance - General, Antietam (Md.), General & Literary Fiction, Large type books, General, Fiction - Romance
ISBN: 9780786272143
Publisher: Thorndike Press
Published: 2005-04-15T07:00:00+00:00

Rebecca accepted the mug of coffee. "But?"

"But Shane doesn't come under the heading of Hobby. He's the sweetest man I know, but he could hurt you."

Rebecca mulled it over as she sipped. "It's a possibility. But even that would be an experience. I've never been close enough to a man to be hurt by one."

She moved over to the window to look out. She could see him, in the field, riding a tractor. Just as she'd imagined. No, it wasn't a tractor, she remembered. A baler. He'd be making hay.

"I love looking at him," she murmured.

"None of them are hard on the eyes," Regan commented as she joined Rebecca at the window. "And none of them are easy on the heart." She laid a hand on Rebecca's shoulder. "Just be careful."

But Rebecca felt she'd been careful too long already.

She couldn't even cook. Shane had never known anyone who was incapable of doing more at a stove than heating up a can of soup. And even that, for Rebecca, was a project of momentous proportions.

He didn't mind her being there. He'd talked himself into that. He liked her company, was certain he would eventually charm her into bed, but he hated her reasons for moving in.

Her equipment was everywhere—in the kitchen, the living room, in the guest room. He couldn't walk through his own house without facing a camera.

It baffled him that an obviously intelligent woman actually believed she was going to take videos of ghosts.

Still, there were some advantages. If he cooked, she cheerfully did the clearing-up. And it wasn't a hardship to come in from the fields or the barn and find her at the kitchen table, making her notes on her little laptop computer.

She claimed she felt most at home in the kitchen— though she didn't know a skillet from a saucepan—so she spent most of her time there.

He'd gotten through the first night, though it was true that he'd done a great deal of tossing and turning at the idea that she was just down the hall. And if he'd been gritty-eyed and cranky the next morning, he'd worked it off by the time he finished the milking and came in to cook breakfast.

And she came down for breakfast, he reflected. Though she didn't eat much—barely, in his opinion, enough to sustain life. But she drank coffee, shared the morning paper with him, asked questions. Lord, the woman was full of questions.

Still, it was pleasant to have company over the first meal of the day. Someone who looked good, smelled good, had something to say for herself. The problem was, he found himself thinking about how she had looked, had smelled, what she had said, when he went out to work.

He couldn't remember another woman hanging in his mind quite so long, or quite so strongly. That was something that could worry a man, if he let it.

Shane MacKade didn't like to worry. And he wasn't used to thinking about a woman who didn't seem to be giving him the same amount of attention.

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