“I’d never hit you.” The words were swift andemotional and she had no doubt he spoke the truth. He rubbed hisforehead and ran his fingers though his hair until it stood on end.“I know what you mean. I betrayed your trust. And I insulted you bybeing such a brute. I didn’t mean for it to be that way. I was soangry, and Claudette picked the worst time to...” He shook hishead. “I have no excuse. I was wrong and I admit it. I told you. Itwill never happen again.”
Obviously he did realize the consequences ofhis actions. His anger was unfounded, but she had to accept some ofthe blame for his method of approach. If she hadn’t flirted withhim, kissing her probably wouldn’t have come to mind. Looking back,her words did sound like a challenge. He moved toward her, hisexpression far from bland. In fact, tortured would be a betterdescription. Yet when he spoke, his voice was decisive.
“Look, Cynthia. If you think you’d be happierwith Claudette, I won’t stand in your way, but I want to make itclear that I don’t want you to go. You’re the best friend I’ve everhad and things around here could never be the same withoutyou.”
She gaped up at him, finally snapping jawsshut. “Best friend? I never knew you thought of me as anything buta housekeeper - an opinionated one at that.”
He frowned. “There’s nothing wrong withhaving a different opinion. It only proves you have a mind of yourown.” He stared down at his coffee with a sour expression. “I’vealways been a little inept at expressing my feelings.”
A little? That was the understatementof the year. Yet, he stood before her, conceding his shortcomingsfrankly. She smiled up at him. “Practice makes perfect,” shequipped.
He stared at her. “Does that mean you’regiving me another chance? You’re staying?”
She sighed heavily and slid off the bed. “Isuppose so.” She slipped her shoes on. “I left supper half done.I’d better go finish it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cynthia was careful not to flirt with Cadeagain, putting on a professional front when he was around. Hecouldn’t have asked for a better housekeeper, but the atmospherebetween them had become strained. Why was it so hard to joke withhim without flirting? And Cade had become more solemn in the lastfew weeks, as if he sensed her dilemma and felt uncomfortable aswell.
The tension was taking its toll in anotherway. Nearly a week early on her monthly cycle, she was caughtunprepared. The few supplies she had would barely last the night,especially since the flow was unusually heavy. That meant she wouldhave to drive to town tonight, and she wasn’t feeling up to it. Shesighed as she set out the supper dishes. Oh well, life was full ofunpleasantness and this was a minor one.
Cade came through the kitchen door andpitched his hat on the peg. “Smells good. I’m starving.”
“Well, sit down then. It’s ready.”
He washed and bellied up to the table,proving his statement as he delved into the food. Cynthia picked ather food, pushing it around the plate more than anything else.Nothing looked good and she felt feverish. Finally she put down herfork and gave up the pretense.
“What’s the matter?” Cade asked. “Are youfeeling puny tonight?”
She shrugged. “I was just thinking. I need togo to town for something so I’d better get started. Maybe I can getback before dark.”
“Why don’t you let me go in and get it foryou? I needed some things anyway and I don’t mind driving in thedark.”
She picked up her plate and scraped the foodinto a scrap bowl for the cat. “That’s all right. It’s kind ofpersonal.”
“Oh. Well, why don’t you go with methen?”
Dark splotches hindered her vision and shepaused, planting a hand firmly on the counter for support. Surelyshe wasn’t going to faint. Never in her life had she fainted. Theroom began to spin, and she grabbed the edge of the sink. Her kneesbuckled and hit the cabinet. Cade’s’ chair scraped the floor andhis boot heels hit the floor twice before he grabbed her waist. Aburning sensation began in her throat and she realized she wasgoing to heave. The back door was too far away for her rubberylegs, and the only alternative was the sink. She leaned over thesink, retching uncontrollably. Suddenly cool hands were pulling herhair back and turning on the water. She coughed, and tears stungher eyes. It wasn’t bad enough she had to pitch her cookies infront of him, now she was going to cry. As she dashed the coolwater on her face, the strength returned to her legs.
Cade handed her a towel and gently rubbed herback. His expression was openly compassionate as he reached out,drawing her into his arms and guiding her head to his shoulder.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Youdon’t have to wait on me hand and foot, you know.” He brushed thehair back from her face and stroked her cheek gently.
She buried her face in his shoulder, hopinghe wouldn’t notice she was crying. But he wasn’t fooled. He pattedher shoulder.
“What’s the matter, Cindy?”
“Nothing,” she managed to respond in a weakvoice.
“Then why are you crying? Is it this house?Are you lonely? Do you need to see a doctor?”
“No.” His sympathy only made matters worseand she hiccupped.
His voice was anxious. “You’re not going tothrow up again, are you?” He lifted her chin with two fingers, andthe expression on his face might have been amusing under differentcircumstances.
“No, I feel better now.” She said, steppingaway from him. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter andblew her nose. “I’m sorry. It happened so suddenly that I didn’trealize it was coming.”
He was still watching her intently. Pullingout a drawer, he removed a paper and pencil.
“Write down what you need and I’ll get it.Surely it can’t be that personal, and you’re in no condition to begoing to town.”
She stared at the paper. How did she getherself into predicaments like this? She shook her head. “I can go.I feel better now.”
He frowned at her suspiciously. “Is it afemale thing?”
When she blushed, he nodded. “Write
