Revenge (12 page)

“I'm counting on it.”

Her heart nearly stopped. “What?”

Levering himself up on an elbow, his muscular naked body pressed intimately against hers, he gazed down at her. “Marry me, Skye,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek.

“Marry you?” The words echoed through her mind and it was all she could do not to fling her arms around him and swear that she'd be his wife forever. But she couldn't be rash and had to think about the future... about Jonah McKee... about the fact that she was barren. Her throat grew thick. She swallowed hard. “You're sure?”

“More sure than I have been of anything in a long time.”

“But your father—”

“Has no say in this.”

“I'd love to,” she said, and triumph flashed in his eyes. He kissed her quickly and she pulled away. “Oh, Max, it's just not that easy.”

“Of course it is.”

“There's so much to think about.” Dragging herself into a sitting position, she placed both her hands on his shoulders. “I'm not done with going to school.”

“To be a doctor?” Max's brows drew together in the slightest of frowns.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure that's what you want?”

“It's what I've wanted forever.” Her heart nearly stopped as he stared at her, and for a second she thought he was going to tell her to give up her dreams, to be the kind of woman that Jonah thought Max needed for a wife. Instead, he grinned devilishly. “I won't stop you,” he said, tracing the line of her cheek with one long finger. “If it's really what you want. But I want you to know that I believe children come first.”

“Children—”
Oh, God!

“For both of us. You and me. I mean, I don't expect you to give up your career for children. I'm not giving up mine, but we both have to agree that the kids come first. Before anything else.”

“Yes, but—”

He grinned wickedly. “We could start on a baby now,” he said, drawing her close, letting her skin feel the hardness of his flesh, “before the wedding.”

“Wait a minute.”

He was leaning over her, his breath warm against her face. “You do want a baby, don't you?”

“Yes!”

“Then let's make one. Right here and now. In our house.”

“Whoa, Max. Can't we slow down a little? Your father—he doesn't like me. He warned me to stay away from you.”

“Did he?” His eyes squeezed shut and rage tightened every muscle in his body. “The old bastard!” With a string of oaths aimed at his father, he shook his head, then sighed. “He can't tell me or you what to do. He'll try, damn it, but it just won't work!”

“He'll never approve.”

“Who gives a rip?” He hesitated, his eyes darkening and a knowing smile curving on his face. “You know nothing would make my dad turn around quicker than to become a grandfather. He talks about it constantly—grousing that there's no McKee heir, no new generation to take up the reins when Jenner and I get old. And he's hell-bent to have a grandson, not that he wouldn't love a little girl, but it's a boy he really wants.”

“That's so sexist,” she said, feeling numb inside.

“Well, Jonah isn't exactly known for his belief in equal rights. Calls it militant feminist rhetoric. I'm not going to change his mind. Unless I give him a granddaughter.”

Skye's insides turned to ice. A child was the one thing she couldn't give anyone.

“We could be married next month,” he said, still staring at her with those damnably erotic blue-green eyes.

“Next month? But—but I'll be at school!”

“Can't it wait?”

“No...I mean, I've been accepted....”

His jaw hardened a fraction. “So you don't want to get married?”

“Of course I do—”

“It's settled then.”

“But can't we take it slower?”

Max's gaze centered on her lips. “When I'm with you, I can't think in terms of slow. I just know that I want you. Now and forever. Always.”

“Always,” she repeated, trying to think clearly as he kissed her.

Somehow she stilled that painful little voice, closed her eyes and lost herself in the wonder of Max's touch. She pushed aside all her problems and swore to herself that she'd deal with them later. When she could think clearly, when she could work her way out of this sticky situation.

She'd never been one to walk away from a challenge and she wasn't about to do it now. But she had to wait. Until the timing was right. Then, she promised herself, as she felt the weight of his body straining against hers and she gave herself to him, then she'd tell him the truth.

“Y
ou're
what?”
Jonah roared, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he stared at his firstborn son. They were standing in the den, squaring off for the fight of the century, when Virginia, blast her, walked into the room. “Tell me I'm not hearing this.”

Max stood firm, his damned McKee chin thrust forward in determination, the way it had all his life, his gaze rock steady. Like a stallion protecting his herd, the boy wouldn't back down an inch. “You heard me. Skye and I are getting married. Probably next month.”

“That's wonderful news,” Virginia said in that thin, reedy voice Jonah had begun to hate over the years.

“Bull! It's a pile of horse manure!”

Max's smile was cold. “What're you going to do, Dad? Cut me off?”

“Maybe. And wipe that stupid smirk off your face!” Jonah walked to the bar and poured himself a stiff shot, tossed the Scotch back and poured a second glass. “What about her going to medical school? I thought she wanted to be a doctor or some such nonsense.”

“It's not nonsense and she still will. Later.” Max shifted slightly and Jonah smirked as if he knew he'd hit a nerve.

“You don't even know her.”

“I love her. That's all that matters.”

“Hell, love doesn't even enter into marriage—not a good one!” Jonah snorted. Max saw his mother get that wounded look in her eyes as she let out a soft whimper. Max suspected that Jonah didn't want to hurt her, but if she was going to go poking her nose in where it didn't belong, then he couldn't help the fact that she was upset. She should have grown a tougher skin after all these years. She was a fool if she believed that they'd ever really loved each other. As far as Max could see, love between his parents just plain didn't exist. There was lust, and his father seemed to have experienced that more than a few times, and then there was affection. But Max knew his father believed that love was an emotion created only by weak, simpering fools.

Max planted himself in front of the battle-scarred desk that had been handed from one firstborn male McKee to the next, the desk he was supposed to inherit. Jaw set, neck muscles taut, eyes glittering in determination, Max felt like a panther ready to strike. But obviously his father wasn't going to take this news lying down. Max realized that Jonah had a few tricks of his own. “You don't know all that much about her,” Jonah said, watching Max's reaction. From the corner of his eye, he must have caught his wife's warning glare but ignored it.

“I know enough.”

Jonah grinned. It was apparent he would love to whip the tar out of his insolent pup of a son. Unfortunately he probably couldn't anymore. Max was lean and tough and had the shoulders of an ox. “Just keep her as a mistress,” Jonah suggested.

“Jonah!” Virginia stiffened in shock.

“It's the only sensible thing. Obviously he wants to get into her pants, so let him. But for God's sake—” he was staring at Max again“—don't make the mistake of marrying her! She'll make your life a living hell.”

“How would you know?” Max's voice was low and full of menace.

“I know more that goes on in this town than anyone, especially you. I remember when Skye Donahue was born, when her sister came into the world and when her daddy was killed setting chokers. Hell, I owned the damned logging company where it happened.” He finished his drink and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “I was there, saw the cable snap, saw him crushed.” He gritted his teeth as if in frustration and pain. No matter what everyone in town thought, Jonah hated when one of his men was crippled or killed, and though he put up a good front, Max knew he felt a little guilty about sitting back and making money while good men risked their lives for him. He'd told Max so enough times. “Ever since Tom was killed, I've felt responsible, I guess. There wasn't much insurance money, so I helped Irene out, saw that those girls got through school, even stepped in when the younger one got into trouble.” He eyed his empty glass thoughtfully and scowled. “Skye's a beautiful woman, I'll give her that, and she's smart as a whip, but she'll give you nothing but heartache, son. She's too bullheaded for her own good, wants a man-size job and won't have time for my grandkids. In fact, I'll bet she doesn't even want a family.”

Max couldn't believe the old man's attitude. It wasn't as if he'd come in here expecting Jonah P. McKee's blessing. He'd just thought the family should know. After kissing Skye goodbye and watching her drive away from the ranch, he'd spied his father's Jeep in the garage and decided that it was time to tell his family how he felt.

“I don't know what you've got against Skye,” he said, every muscle in his body straining as he set his palms on the desk and glowered at the man who had sired him, “but she's going to be my wife and you, goddamn it, had better well accept her and treat her with the respect she deserves.”

Virginia said, “There's no need to swear—”

“Is she giving up medical school for you?” Jonah demanded.

“No, but—”

“Did she say she'd have your kids and stay home and take care of them like she ought to?”

“Not exactly, but we talked—”

“Will she be willing to step back and let you run the business... be the breadwinner?”

“It doesn't matter.”

Jonah's fist crashed down on the top of the bar. “Of course it matters, damn it! You don't need some modern woman whose head is full of all sorts of silly notions about having a career and—”

“I think Skye's a lovely girl,” Virginia cut in, and her usually downcast eyes were hot with fury. “She's honest and good to her mother and ambitious and has enough spunk to stand up to you McKee men. I, for one, think this is wonderful news, and if you had any brains in that head of yours, Jonah, you'd be shaking Max's hand instead of trying to force him to make a choice between us and her.”

Jonah's nostrils flared. “If she won't do what you want, and put your needs before any of her own ambitions, she's not worth it, son. You're making one helluva mistake!”

“Mine to make,” Max said. Deciding there was no reason to prolong the discussion, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his mother's voice continuing to ring faintly in his ears.

“You had no right,” Virginia said to her husband, “to talk that way to Max. Can't you see he's in love?”

“Oh, hell!
Love?
Take off your rose-colored glasses, will you? Why am I the only one around here with enough sense to know that he's making a mistake that will ruin his life!”

Max stormed down the hall and onto the porch, letting the screen door bang shut behind him. The night was warm, with just the hint of autumn in the air, and insects battered their wings at the windows. Light glowed from the open doors to the machinery shed where he spied Jenner's long, jean-clad legs splattered with grease and extending from beneath the engine of a tractor. At the sound of footsteps on the gravel, Jenner pushed himself out from beneath the rig and stared at his older brother. “Trouble in paradise?”

“You call this paradise?”

Jenner glanced around the night-darkened ranch. “Heaven or hell. Sometimes you can't tell which.”

“Tonight it's hell. Believe me.”

An arrogant smile drifted lazily across Jenner's face as he stood and wiped his hands on a faded red rag he pulled from his back pocket. “Let me guess. You had a run-in with the old man.”

“More than a run-in. I wanted to punch him out and he felt the same.”

“Great family, huh?” Jenner snapped out the lights in the shed. “Let's go into town, find ourselves a pint of whiskey and some good-lookin' women.”

Max didn't respond. He didn't need a drink and he didn't want any woman but Skye. Only Skye. Now and always. “I'll pass.”

Shrugging, Jenner said, “Suit yourself, but you look mean enough to spit nails.” He walked to his truck, tossed the rag inside and opened a cooler he usually kept on the front seat. Grabbing a can of beer, he held it up in offering, but Max shook his head and leaned a hip against the battered truck's fender. Far in the distance, a train whistled and a coyote howled at the rising moon.

Jenner pulled the tab and took a long swallow. “I always told you it's big trouble trying to kiss up to the old man. Following in his footsteps is a mistake.”

“I don't kiss up.”

“Yeah, but you put on the ‘good son' skin and sometimes it gets a little tight, doesn't it?” Jenner pulled hard on his beer.

“It fits better than the ‘bad son' would.”

“Does it?” Jenner barked a laugh. “I wouldn't know.”

“Don't you get tired of being a rebel?”

“Don't you get tired of being a yes-man?”

“I'm not.”

“Sure. You went to law school because you wanted to, right? And you came back here because you'd rather do business as a flunky for Jonah McKee than have your own practice in the big city or in some other town.” He leaned closer and Max smelled oil and leather and beer. “You know that I believe in calling ‘em as I see 'em, Max, and it looks to me like you're back here because of the old man's money. Old Jonah wanted you back and he reminded you that you wouldn't want to give up your inheritance—even if it cost you your freedom.”

“That's not the way it is,” Max growled, but Jenner's words stung like the bite of a whip.

“Isn't it? Then what're you so mad about?” Jenner drained his can of beer and crumpled it in his fist.

“We just had an argument.”

“About?”

“A woman.”

“The Donahue gal. I wondered when that would happen.” Jenner stared off into the distance as if he could read the damned future.

“What's he got against her?”

“She's too smart. Knows her own mind. Doesn't keep her opinions to herself.” Jenner swept his Stetson from the fender of his truck. Squaring his hat on his head, he said, “Don't you know that you don't have a choice about who you marry? Hell, man, you're the firstborn McKee son—the crown prince, so to speak. The old man will handpick your bride. Probably a local gal, good bloodlines, someone who has a little money. She'll have to be a good breeder. You know, someone who'll give the old man what he really wants—the next generation of McKees.”

“You make it sound like he's picking out a brood mare.”

Jenner shrugged. “Same thing. He wants grandsons. Legitimate McKee heirs. No bastards. You've heard the speech.”

“This time he's gone too far,” Max said. “He doesn't know it yet, but he can't run my life.”

Laughing without a speck of mirth, Jenner climbed into his truck. “Oh, yeah? Just watch him.”

 

For the first time in her life, Skye felt like a hypocrite. After making love with Max, she'd intended to tell him that she couldn't marry him, that she could never give him the children he and the rest of his family wanted. She was also going to let him know that she would never give up her career. She couldn't see herself in Virginia McKee's role, that of a housewife whose sole purpose was to stand beside her husband, be he right or wrong, never doubting him, always smiling, content to raise his children and maintain his house and, if push came to shove, blindly defending him against the world and keeping her mouth shut when she knew he was wrong.

She thought of Max and her insides warmed. He was strong and handsome and he loved her. So everything should be perfect.

As she drove home, she decided she had no choice but to tell him the truth and let the chips fall where they may. He needed to know how she felt about her career and the painful fact that she could never bear him a child. Oh, there was a chance, she supposed, but a slim one. She'd seen several doctors about her irregular menstrual cycle, and after giving each of them her history of pelvic inflammatory disease, it was generally concluded that she would have trouble conceiving. Then, even if she did, there would likely be problems in carrying the baby to term.

Maybe Max wouldn't care.

“Don't be a fool,” she said aloud. “You saw how his eyes shone when he talked about children.” She wouldn't deny him the right to be a father. She loved him too much.

She had trouble sleeping that night and was on pins and needles the next day at work. Max wasn't around. He and his father and some business partners had flown to Spokane, Washington, to discuss some real estate deal. He might be gone for several days and that thought was depressing.

Her in-basket was overflowing, and by the time five o'clock rolled around, she was barely half finished. She drove home and helped her mother and Dani with dinner. Dani had spent half the day at the McKee ranch, working with Casey's stubborn colt.

“Heard you caused quite a scene last night,” Dani said as she fried strips of bacon for sandwiches. Irene was in the living room trying to watch the news, and the two sisters were alone.

“A scene?” Skye said, her insides tying into tense knots. “Mmm. Casey was in her room when all hell broke loose between Max and his old man.” She swallowed hard. “Seems Max wants to marry you.” Dani's eyes lifted to meet Skye's. The bacon sizzled, unattended, in the cast-iron skillet.

No reason to lie. “We've talked about it.”

“And...” Dani prodded, her expression unreadable.

“And I left it up in the air.”

“Why? Either you want to marry him or you don't,” she said.