Free Torrid Nights by Lindsay McKenna Page B

managed to survive this long with that brand of optimism simply amazes me.”
    Mackenna laughed. “How do all of us poor creatures manage to survive in this wicked world, eh?”
    “You’d better believe it.”
    “Well, I’m living proof that those with positive outlooks can survive quite nicely in this world. Despite your dreary philosophy.”
    He shook his head ruefully. “And I’ve got to spend two more weeks with you,” he muttered. But the words weren’t quite as bitter as usual, and Mackenna sensed the difference.
    Her grin widened. “Makes you wonder which one of us will survive this ordeal, doesn’t it?” she jibed good-naturedly. He didn’t answer, but gave her a sidelong glance. And this time Mackenna detected a spark of enjoyment in those glacial-blue depths.
    Instead of going back to the head of the road, Brock drove her back to the Vermeer plantation. She gave him a questioning look as they pulled into the long, white-rock driveway. “What are you doing?” she wanted to know.
    “Looked at yourself in the mirror lately?” he drawled.
    “No. Why?”
    “You look like death warmed over. I’m dropping you off, and I’ll continue my tour of the road with Bevans. I’m sure he can explain things almost as well as you can. You stay here and get some rest.” He braked the truck near the door to the huge screened veranda. The majordomo opened it, looking at them expectantly.
    Mackenna gave Brock a distrustful look as she leaned down and retrieved her hard hat. He frowned.
    “What’s that look for?” he growled.
    “I’d like to believe you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart,” she began slowly, measuring her words as she held his gaze. “But I also have the feeling you’re giving me a black mark for absence.”
    Brock glared at her, anger tightening the granite planes of his features. “I should have known better,” he said.
    Mackenna recoiled from his sudden fury. They had arrived back at square one in shattering seconds. “I told you, Brock, I’ll always be honest with you. You asked me what was going on in my head and I told you.” She turned to face him and matched his glare. “What do you expect from me? You’ve been treating us like slaves since you arrived. I know you’re waiting to put my head on a platter. Is it any wonder I have such doubts?”
    He turned to stare straight ahead, his mouth a thin line. “Since I’m such a cold, cruel bastard, I suggest that you get out of this truck. Who knows? I might do something unspeakable to you.” He jammed the truck into gear. “Get going,” he said.
    Mackenna opened her mouth to try to patch up the misunderstanding. But he had closed her out. She left the truck without another word, watching as he drove quickly off. Disappointed and at odds with herself, she greeted the majordomo briefly and slowly climbed the long stairway to the second floor of the dazzling plantation house.

Chapter Five
    Mackenna took a long, hot bath, soaking away the sweat and dirt of the road. As she was toweling herself dry, a maid appeared at the door with a message from Herr Vermeer. The old gentleman requested her presence in the dining room for dinner. Sighing, Mackenna pulled on her clothes.
    During the meal Herr Vermeer remained at her side, concerned with her pallor. Mackenna ate what she could and then begged off, retreating to a couch in the den, a light blanket wrapped around her lower body. The combination of the bath, the wholesome meal and darkness combined to seduce her into sleep, with paperwork still in her hands.
    When she awoke, only a dim table lamp remained burning in the den. The house was quiet except for the constant humming and singing of insects outside. In the silence, the noise of the front door opening and closing easily caught her attention. Groggily, Mackenna roused herself, her papers sliding from her lap onto the polished wood floor. Heavily booted footsteps echoed along the foyer. Her heartbeat quickened as the