The Complete Mackenzie Collection

by Linda Howard

  She had never seen two men more alike than Joe and his father, the only real difference being that Wolf’s eyes were as black as night while Joe’s were that brilliant, diamond blue. And looking at Wolf, she could easily understand why Joe had thought his father would kill the man who had abused him, if he had known about it. Wolf Mackenzie protected his own. Like his son, he was pure warrior.

  Mary was dwarfed by her sons, even thirteen-year-old Zane, the intense one. Michael was off at college; it would be Christmas before she would meet him. But Joshua, at sixteen, was almost as big as Wolf and Joe. Josh was as bright and lighthearted as Zane was dark and quiet, his gaze watchful. The same dangerous intensity that burned in both Joe and Wolf was evident in the boy.

  Then there was Maris. At eleven, she was small for her age, with Mary’s slight build and exquisitely translucent complexion. Her hair was pale, her eyes as black as Wolf’s. She was her father’s shadow, her small hands gentling and soothing the fractious horses as well as Wolf’s strong ones did.

  For the first time Caroline saw Joe with horses, and another element of his character fell into place. He was infinitely patient with them and rode as if he’d been born in the saddle, which he almost had.

  She stood at the kitchen window watching him and Wolf and Maris in the corral with a tall black mare who was currently Maris’s favorite. Mary came to stand beside her, knowing instinctively who Caroline was watching. “He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” Mary sighed. “I loved him the first moment I saw him, when he was sixteen. There aren’t many men in this world like Joe. He was a man even then, and I mean it in the purest sense of the word. Of course, I’m prejudiced, but you are, too, aren’t you?”

  “Just looking at him gives me shivers,” Caroline admitted dreamily, then caught herself with a laugh. “But don’t tell him that. Sometimes he can be very much the colonel. I try to keep him from being too commanding.”

  “Oh, he knows. The thing is, you give him shivers, too. Keeps things nice and balanced. I should know. His father has been giving me shivers for almost twenty years now. Do you suppose it’s inherited?”

  “It probably is. Look at Joshua and Zane.”

  “I know,” Mary sighed. “I feel so sorry for all the girls in school. And all those poor girls in college with Michael haven’t had time to get used to him, the way the girls he grew up with did. Not that it did them much good.”

  “Maris will balance it out with the boys.”

  Through the window she watched Joe lightly vault the fence and start toward the house. Wolf tousled Maris’s hair and followed his son, while Maris remained with the mare.

  Both men entered the house, their tall, broad-shouldered forms suddenly making the kitchen seem too small. They brought with them the earthy scents of the outdoors, horse and hay and clear fresh air mingled with their own male sweat.

  “You two look guilty,” Joe observed. “What have you been talking about?”

  “Genetics,” Caroline replied.

  His brows lifted in that characteristic way. She shrugged. “Well, I can’t help it. I’m probably going to be very interested in genetics for the next eight and a half months. Do you want to lay odds on whether it’s a boy or a girl?”

  “Oh, it’s a boy,” Mary said, her entire face lit with delight. Joe had gone weak at the knees, and Wolf was laughing at his son as he helped him to a chair. “Joe’s a Mackenzie, hardly a female sperm to be found. Mackenzies have to work really hard to have daughters. That’s why they appreciate them so much.”

  Epilogue

  Mary was absolutely right. John Mackenzie, eight pounds and two ounces, made his debut right on time. His heritage was immediately apparent in the thick black hair, blue eyes and straight black brows of his father. After his birth Caroline slept, and Joe dozed in the chair by her bed, his son lying on his chest and making squeaky little grunting noises. Caroline awakened, her drowsy eyes moving around the room until her gaze lit on the pair by her side. She reached out, first touching her husband’s hand and then the tiny hand that lay curled on his chest.

  Joe’s eyes opened. “Hi,” he said softly.

  “Hi, yourself.” He looked wonderful, she thought. Kind of grubby and rumpled. He was still in uniform, having been summoned straight from the base. The nurses were probably all swooning at his feet. She grabbed his tie and pulled him closer. “Give me a kiss.”

  He did, his mouth lingering hungrily over hers. “In a few weeks I’ll give you a lot more.”

  “Umm. I can’t wait.” He made a few lascivious promises to her that made her heart pound, and she laughed as she took the sleeping baby from him. “You shouldn’t talk like that in front of him. He’s too young.”

  “It’s nothing new to him, sweetheart. He’s been well acquainted with me from the very beginning.”

  She looked down at the tiny, serious face, and this time her heart swelled, blooming until it nearly filled her chest. It was incredible. This magnificent little creature was incredible. Her parents, having decided to stay in Greece for a couple of years, were on their way, but the flight was so long and the connections so horrible that it would be another ten hours before they arrived. John’s other grandparents, however, had managed to get there before he was born, and he’d already been in their arms.

  “Where are Wolf and Mary?” she asked sleepily.

  “In the cafeteria. They said they were hungry, but I think they wanted to give us some time alone.”

  “I wish they’d brought Maris and the boys.”

  “They were taking final exams at school. They’ll see him soon enough.”

  She looked back down at the baby, tracing the downy cheek with her fingertip. To her surprise, he abruptly turned his head toward the touch, the tiny mouth opening as he sought it.

  Joe laughed and said, “That isn’t it, son. You need to fine-tune your targeting a little.”

  The baby had begun fretting. Caroline opened her gown and gently guided the avid little mouth to her breast. He clamped down on it with a grunting noise.

  “He’s a typical Mackenzie,” she murmured. “Which means he isn’t typical at all.”

  She looked up and met Joe’s eyes, brilliant and filled with more desire and love than she’d ever thought to see in her life. No, there was nothing typical about this man. He was on a fast track to the stars, and he was carrying her with him.

  Mackenzie’s Pleasure

  By Linda Howard

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Wolf Mackenzie slipped out of bed and restlessly paced over to the window, where he stood looking out at the stark, moonlit expanse of his land. A quick glance over his bare shoulder reassured him that Mary slept on undisturbed, though he knew it wouldn’t be long before she sensed his absence and stirred, reaching out for him. When her hand didn’t encounter his warmth, she would wake, sitting up in bed and drowsily pushing her silky hair out of her face. When she saw him by the window she would slide out of bed and come to him, nestling against his naked body, sleepily resting her head on his chest.

  A slight smile touched his hard mouth. Like as not, if he stayed out of bed long enough for her to awaken, when they returned to the bed it wouldn’t be to sleep but to make love. As he remembered, Maris had been conceived on just such an occasion, when he had been restless because Joe’s fighter wing had just been deployed overseas during some flare-up. It had been Joe’s first action, and Wolf had been as tense as he’d been during his own days in Vietnam.

  Luckily, he and Mary were past the days when spontaneous passion could result in a new baby. Nowadays they had grandkids, not kid
s of their own. Ten at the last count, as a matter of fact.

  But he was restless tonight, and he knew why.

  The wolf always slept better when all of his cubs were accounted for.

  Never mind that the cubs were adults, some of them with children of their own. Never mind that they were, one and all, supremely capable of taking care of themselves. They were his, and he was there if they needed him. He also liked to know, within reason, where they were bedding down for the night. It wasn’t necessary for him to be able to pinpoint their location—some things a parent was better off not knowing—but if he knew what state they were in, that was usually enough. Hell, sometimes he would have been glad just to know which country they were roaming.

  His concern wasn’t for Joe, this time. He knew where Joe was—the Pentagon. Joe wore four stars now, and sat on the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

  Joe would still rather strap on a metal bird and fly at twice the speed of sound, but those days were behind him. If he had to fly a desk, then he would damn sure fly it the best it could be flown. Besides, as he’d once said, being married to Caroline was more challenging than being ina dogfight and outnumbered four to one.

  Wolf grinned when he thought of his daughter-in-law. Genius IQ, doctorates in both physics and computer sciences, a bit arrogant, a bit quirky. She’d gotten her pilot’s license just after the birth of their first son, on the basis that the wife of a fighter pilot should know something about flying. She had received her certification on small jet aircraft around the time the third son had made his appearance. After the birth of her fifth son, she had grumpily told Joe that she was calling it quits with that one, because she’d given him five chances and obviously he wasn’t up to the job of fathering a daughter.

  It had once been gently suggested to Joe that Caroline should quit her job. The company that employed her was heavily engaged in government contract work, and the appearance of any favoritism could hurt his career. Joe had turned his cool, blue laser gaze on his superiors and said, “Gentlemen, if I have to choose between my wife and my career, I’ll give you my resignation immediately.” That was not the answer that had been expected, and nothing else was said about Caroline’s work in research and development.

  Wolf wasn’t worried about Michael, either. Mike was the most settled of all his children, though just as focused. He had decided at an early age that he wanted to be a rancher, and that’s exactly what he was. He owned a sizable spread down toward Laramie, and he and his wife were happily raising cattle and two sons.

  The only uproar Mike had ever caused was when he decided to marry Shea Colvin. Wolf and Mary had given him their blessing, but the problem was that Shea’s mother was Pam Hearst Colvin, one of Joe’s old girlfriends—and Pam’s father, Ralph Hearst, was as adamantly opposed to his beloved granddaughter marrying Michael Mackenzie as he had been to his daughter dating Joe Mackenzie.

  Michael, with his typical tunnel vision, had ignored the whole tempest. His only concern was marrying Shea, and to hell with the storm erupting in the Hearst family. Quiet, gentle Shea had been torn, but she wanted Michael and refused to call off the wedding as her grandfather demanded. Pam herself had finally put an end to it, standing nose to nose with her father in the middle of his store.

  “Shea will marry Michael,” she’d stormed, when Ralph had threatened to take Shea out of his will if she married one of those damn breeds. “You didn’t want me to date Joe, when he was one of the most decent men I’ve ever met. Now Shea wants Michael, and she’s going to have him. Change your will, if you like. Hug your hate real close, because you won’t be hugging your granddaughter” or your great-grandchildren. Think about that!”

  So Michael had married Shea, and despite his growling and grumping, old Hearst was nuts about his two great-grandsons. Shea’s second pregnancy had been difficult, and both she and the baby had nearly died. The doctor had advised them not to have any more children, but they had already decided to have only two, anyway. The two boys were growing up immersed in cattle ranching and horses. Wolf was amused that Ralph Hearst’s great-grandchildren bore the Mackenzie name. Who in hell ever would have thought?

  Josh, his third son, lived in Seattle with his wife, Loren, and their three sons. Josh was as jet-mad as Joe, but he had opted for the Navy rather than the Air Force, perhaps because he wanted to succeed on his own, not because his older brother was a general.

  Josh was cheerful and openhearted, the most outgoing of the bunch, but he, too, had that streak of iron determination. He’d barely survived the crash that left him with a stiffened right knee and ended his naval career, but in typical Josh fashion, he had put that behind him and concentrated on what was before him. At the time, that had been his doctor—Dr. Loren Page. Never one to dither around, Josh had taken one look at tall, lovely Loren and begun his courtship from his hospital bed. He’d still been on crutches when they married. Now, three sons later, he worked for an aeronautics firm, developing new fighter aircraft, and Loren practiced her orthopedic specialty at a Seattle hospital.

  Wolf knew where Maris was, too. His only daughter was currently in Montana, working as a trainer for a horse rancher. She was considering taking a job in Kentucky, working with Thoroughbreds. From the time she’d been old enough to sit unaided on a horse, her ambitions had all centered around the big, elegant animals. She had his touch with horses, able to gentle even the most contrary or vicious beast. Privately Wolf thought that she probably surpassed his skill. What she could do with a horse was pure magic.

  Wolf’s hard mouth softened as he thought of Maris. She had wrapped his heart around her tiny finger the moment she had been placed in his arms, when she was mere minutes old, and had looked up at him with sleepy dark eyes. Of all his children, she was the only one who had his dark eyes. His sons all looked like him, except for their blue eyes, but Maris, who resembled Mary in every other way, had her father’s eyes. His daughter had light, silvery brown hair, skin so fine it was almost translucent, and her mother’s determination. She was all of five foot three and weighed about a hundred pounds, but Maris never paid any attention to her slightness; when she made up her mind to do something, she persisted with bulldog stubbornness until she succeeded. She could more than hold her own with her older, much larger and domineering brothers.

  Her chosen career hadn’t been easy for her. People tended to think two things. One was that she was merely trading on the Mackenzie name, and the other was that she was too delicate for the job. They soon found out how wrong they were on both counts, but it was a battle Maris had fought over and over. She kept at it, though, slowly winning respect for her individual talents.

  The mental rundown of his kids next brought him to Chance. Hell, he even knew where Chance was, and that was saying something. Chance roamed the world, though he always came back to Wyoming, to the mountain that was his only home. He had happened to call earlier that day, from Belize. He’d told Mary that he was going to rest for a few days before moving on. When Wolf had taken his turn on the phone, he had moved out of Mary’s hearing and quietly asked Chance how bad he was hurt.

  “Not too bad,” Chance had laconically replied. “A few stitches and a couple of cracked ribs. This last job went a little sour on me.”

  Wolf didn’t ask what the last job had entailed. His soldier-of-fortune son occasionally did some delicate work for the government, so Chance seldom volunteered details. The two men had an unspoken agreement to keep Mary in the dark about the danger Chance faced on a regular basis. Not only did they not want her to worry, but if she knew he was wounded, she was likely to hop on a plane and fetch him home.

  When Wolf hung up the phone and turned, it was to find Mary’s slate blue gaze pinned on him. “How bad is he hurt?” she demanded fiercely, hands planted on her hips.

  Wolf knew better than to try lying to her. Instead he crossed the room to her and pulled her into his arms, stroking her silky hair and cradling her slight body against the solid muscularity of his. Sometimes the force of
his love for this woman almost drove him to his knees. He couldn’t protect her from worry, though, so he gave her the respect of honesty. “Not too bad, to use his own words.”

  Her response was instant. “I want him here.”

  “I know, sweetheart. But he’s okay. He doesn’t lie to us. Besides, you know Chance.”

  She nodded, sighing, and turned her lips against his chest. Chance was like a sleek panther, wild and intolerant of fetters. They had brought him into their home and made him one of the family, binding him to them with love when no other restraint would have held him. And like a wild creature that had been only half-tamed, he accepted the boundaries of civilization, but lightly. He roamed far and wide, and yet he always came back to them.

  From the first, though, he had been helpless against Mary. She had instantly surrounded him with so much love and care that he hadn’t been able to resist her, even though his light hazel eyes had reflected his consternation, even embarrassment, at her attention. If Mary went down to fetch Chance, he would come home without protest, but he would walk into the house wearing a helpless, slightly panicked “Oh, God, get me out of this” expression. And then he would meekly let her tend his wounds, pamper him and generally smother him with motherly concern.

  Watching Mary fuss over Chance was one of Wolf’s greatest amusements. She fussed over all of her kids, but the others had grown up with it and took it as a matter of course. Chance, though…he had been fourteen and half wild when Mary had found him. If he’d ever had a home, he didn’t remember it. If he had a name, he didn’t know it. He’d evaded well-meaning social authorities by staying on the move, stealing whatever he needed, food, clothes, money. He was highly intelligent and had taught himself to read from newspapers and magazines that had been thrown away. Libraries had become a favorite place for him to hang out, maybe even spend the night if he could manage it, but never two nights in a row. From what he read and what little television he saw, he understood the concept of a family, but that was all it was to him—a concept. He trusted no one but himself.