Torrid Nights Read Online Free PDF Page A

either a woman or a man. That’s why my attitude keeps changing. You confuse me, Mackenna. Does that compute?”
    Mackenna pressed her lips together. “Yes, it does. I thought you were playing a game, trying to apologize for your earlier remarks. You’ve got my file. You must have read that I was married until a year ago….” Her voice dropped from a strident tone. “I-I thought you’d changed your tone out of pity. Well, I don’t want that. I won’t have it. I didn’t want you—”
    His azure eyes grew cold again. “Well, at least you and I agree on one thing. Pity is for those who can afford it. To me it’s useless, wasted emotion. And yes, I’m aware you are a widow.” He gave a tight, controlled smile. “But life goes on, doesn’t it? Just a little more hurt, one more wound. Another scar to add to the growing list. We all have them. I don’t see you as unusual.”
    Mackenna stared at him. What a cold man he was! She had not wanted his pity, but a drop of compassion would have been in order. Mackenna regarded him thoughtfully. Kindnesses and compassion, she mused, were undoubtedly too much to expect from him. He couldn’t deal with too wide a range of emotions, she speculated, a twinge of compassion stirring in her heart. A man mortally wounded. By a woman? Well, whoever she was, she had really done a job on Brock Hampton—so much so that he had sealed off his emotions entirely.
    “Who hurt you so much that all you can do is hurt people in return?” she asked softly.
    His startled look jolted her. For a brief instant, Mackenna saw and felt his anguish. Then, just as swiftly, the tightly controlled mask slipped back over his features, erasing that trace of feeling. “Haven’t you been hurt?” he hurled back stiffly.
    “Yes, of course. I still hurt from losing Ryan,” she admitted.
    “I suppose you loved him?”
    Mackenna searched his face for a long moment. “Yes. You don’t live with someone that closely and not love him. And I loved him well beyond that.”
    “You’re a confirmed romantic,” he growled. “Life is filled with parasitic women who know how to lie to a man to get his wedding ring. So they can take his property and his money.”
    “I see,” she murmured. “I’m not a romantic, Brock. I’m a realist. I understand myself well enough to know what I need in a man.”
    As she whispered his name, Mackenna saw him relax slightly, noticed the drop of one shoulder, caught a softening of the glare he’d been directing at her.
    “I’m sorry you had a bad marriage,” she said.
    Brock glared at her. “Who said I was married?” he said. Then he lowered his eyes. “So what if I was?” he growled. “Just another scar. I make a mistake only once.”
    “I see. Never to love again?”
    “Love?” he spat, getting to his feet. “What the hell does that mean? Love is for idealistic women and old fools.”
    “That means you’re not a fool, I suppose,” she parried just as coldly. Damn, he made her uncomfortable.
    Of course, she wasn’t doing a whole lot better in setting the past aside. She thought of Sully’s endless admonitions that she lighten up and quit taking the world so seriously. He played jokes on her just to catch her off guard. To make her laugh and forget for a few pain-free minutes. She grimaced. Brock Hampton was protecting himself with walls no one could get through and she buried her pain in the building of a road. Was she really any better off than he was? She nudged her straying thoughts back to the present. Back to Brock Hampton who was silently assessing her with those electric-blue eyes.
    “I was a fool once,” he murmured, “but never again.”
    Mackenna managed a wry smile. “Frankly, I would like to be a fool again,” she confided. Why on earth was she telling him that? Yet, some of the harsh lines in his face had softened. Lines created by the stress of running his demanding business. Or had they been etched by the personal misfortune he alluded