Free The Pride of Jared MacKade by Nora Roberts Page B

are.”
    “And here we are,” he repeated. “Where do you suppose we’re going?”
    “That’s a question I’ll have to ask you. Why are we having dinner and conversation instead of sex?”
    To his credit, he didn’t choke, but blew out smoke smoothly. “That’s blunt.”
    “Lawyers like to use twenty words when one will do,” she countered. “I don’t.”
    “Then let’s just say you expected sex. I don’t like being predictable.” Behind the haze of smoke, his eyes flashed on hers with a power that jarred. “When we get around to sex, Savannah, it won’t be predictable. You’ll know exactly who you’re with, and you’ll remember it.”
    In that moment, she didn’t have the slightest doubt. Perhaps that was what worried her. “All your moves, Lawyer MacKade? Your time and place?”
    “That’s right.” His eyes changed, lightened with a humor that was hard to resist. “I’m a traditional kind of guy.”

Chapter 5
    A traditional kind of guy, Savannah mused. One day after her impromptu dinner with Jared, and she was standing in her kitchen, her hands on her hips, staring at the florist’s box.
    He’d sent her roses. A dozen long-stemmed red beauties.
    Traditional, certainly. Even predictable, in their way, she supposed. Unless you factored in that no one in her life had ever sent her a long, glossy white box filled with red roses.
    She was certain he knew it.
    Then there was the card.
     
    Until your garden blooms
    How did he know flowers were one of her biggestweaknesses, that she had pined for bright, fragrant blooms in those years when she was living in tiny, cramped rooms in noisy, crowded cities? That she’d promised herself that one day she would have a garden of her own, planted and tended by her own hands?
    Because he saw too much, she decided, and circled the flowers as warily as a dog circling a stranger. She was so intent on them, she actually jumped when the phone rang. Cursing herself she yanked up the receiver.
    “Yes. Hello.”
    “Bad time?” Jared asked.
    She scowled at the flowers lying beautifully against the green protective paper. “I’m busy, if that’s what you mean.”
    “Then I won’t keep you. I thought you might like to bring Bryan over to the farm for dinner tonight.”
    Still frowning, she reached into the box, took out a single rose. It didn’t bite. “Why?”
    “Why not?”
    “For starters, I’ve already got sauce on for spaghetti.” She waited a beat. So did he. “I suppose you expect me to ask you to come here to dinner.”
    “Yep.”
    Twirling the rose, she tried to think of a good reason not to. “All right. But Bryan has baseball practice after school. I have to pick him up at six, so—”
    “I’ll pick him up. It’s on my way. See you tonight, then.”
    Something seemed to be slipping out of her hands. “I told you all of this wasn’t necessary,” she muttered. “The flowers.”
    “Do you like them?”
    “Sure, they’re beautiful.”
    “Well, then.” That seemed to settle the matter. “I’ll see you a bit after six.”
    Befuddled, she hung up. After another long stare at the roses, she decided she’d better dig up a vase.
     
    At six-fifteen she heard the sound of a car coming up her lane. Carefully she finished a detail on the illustration of her wicked queen for a reissue of traditional fairy tales, then turned away from her worktable. Bryan was already clattering up the steps by the time she walked from her small studio into the kitchen.
    “…then he popped up, and that klutzoid Tommy couldn’t get his glove under it. His mom had two cows when the ball came down and smacked him in the face. Blood was spurting out of his nose. It was so cool. Hi, Mom.”
    “Bryan.” She lifted a brow at the state of his clothes. Red dirt streaked every inch. “Do some sliding today?”
    “Yeah.” He headed straight to the refrigerator for a jug of juice.
    “Tommy Mardson got a bloody nose,” Jared put in.
    “So I hear.”
    “His mom