Her lips flattened, and before she considered her actions or even thought, her elbow rammed into her husbands undefended abdomen, bringing a surprised grunt from him as he released her quickly.
“What the hell was that for?” He was rubbing his hand over his stomach as she turned and glared at him, a frown brewin
g on his face.
“For being an ass. ” She smiled tightly. “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. That is, if you’re brave enough to come down and eat it. ”
She pushed past him. The blood was thundering through her veins, her emotions were rioting, and God help her, but she was aroused. She hated that. She hated being manipulated, hated being lied to, and she had never believed Mac would resort to such games with her.
He had. He had brought Jethro here with every intention of inviting him into their bed and she knew it. She knew it, and she hated the contradictory emotions that knowledge fed through her body.
Her flesh was sensitive, her breasts swollen, and she could feel the heat building between her thighs. Suddenly her beliefs in herself, her relationship with Mac and what she felt they shared, began to waver.
A fantasy was just that. She was aware he had fantasies, and over the past months she had guessed at the source of them. But fantasies were supposed to stay in the mind. They weren’t meant to ever meet reality.
She had fantasized herself for years. Ever since the first rumor she had heard of Mac and Jethro sharing their women. Both men were darkly handsome, both were dangerous and broody. But it was a fantasy.
As she rushed into the kitchen she could feel her hands shaking, her stomach rioting with something that she refused to accept as excitement. It was repulsion, she assured herself. It had to be. No way, no how was she actually going to let this happen. She wouldn’t.
She jerked a cabinet door open and pulled three plates free before slamming it closed with a surge of strength that had the panel cracking into the frame with such force that it sounded like a gunshot. Tears flooded her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. They weren’t tears of pain, they were tears of confusion, of anger. Anger not just at Mac, but at herself.
He had brought another man into their home to touch her.
She slapped the plates to the table.
He meant to allow another man into their bed.
Her palms flattened against the table as she glared at the doorway.
He meant to seduce her into it. She knew it. She had seen it in Jethro’s eyes, felt it in Mac’s aroused body. He had no intention of confronting her with it.
Damn him.
Damn her.
Because rather than puking in disgust, she was nearly panting in excitement. And that was even scarier than the knowledge of what Mac and Jethro intended.
By the time the two men entered the large country kitchen with its tall wide windows and view of the pastures, Keiley had herself under control and the table set.
The meal progressed with more ease than she had anticipated, considering her own fractured emotions. Jethro and Mac together were a potent combination. Mac alone could sear her senses no matter what the situation, but when these two men set out to charm, even she, knowing exactly what they were up to, wasn’t immune.
With Jethro’s presence, a part of Mac that she rarely saw showed itself. She could see the dominance glimmering heavily in his stormy gaze now. He watched her like a cat watched a bowl of cream. And Jethro. Jethro watched her like a man observing a favorite treat.
He seemed to draw from her and Mac somehow. To absorb the emotion between them, to make her more aware of it than she normally would be.
As the meal finished and Keiley and Mac stacked the dishes, she wasn’t surprised to realize that the intensity of the atmosphere had heightened her awareness of Mac’s body, and of his hunger.
The hunger was boiling in his gaze. Like thunderclouds, pitching and rolling, glittering with quicksilver bolts of wicked lust each time he glanced at her.
“I’ll leave you two men to catch up,” she announced as she loaded the last dish and turned to face them. “I have some laundry to take care of and a few things to catch up on the computer before I turn in. ”
Let Mac wait on her for a change. He was lucky she wasn’t heading out of the house.
Turning, she headed along the back hall to the laundry room where the week’s laundry waited. She had a meeting tomorrow with the charity committee that ran the annual summer festival and the outfit she had decided to wear needed cleaning first.
The Egyptian cotton dress was one of her favorites, but she had worn it to the monthly office meeting in D. C. the week before.
She was lucky that the programming firm she worked for and her specialties allowed her to work virtually independently, with only occasional trips into the office.