“No, I’m not in the mood. Why don’t you go onalone?”
He sipped the hot coffee and lowered the cup,staring down into the dark liquid.
“No, go ahead and fix something if you want.I thought you might like an evening off.”
She avoided his eyes by examining thecontents of the refrigerator. “We have a lot of left-overs andScruffy is getting ridiculously fat.”
“Left-overs are fine.” He swirled the coffeein his cup. “Speaking of Scruffy, have you seen him lately?”
She pulled a couple of bowls out of therefrigerator. “No, but there’s nothing odd about a Tom catwandering off for a few days. He’s done it before and I’m surehe’ll do it again.”
He nodded, setting his cup on the counter.“While you’re heating that stuff up, I think I’ll go out and lockPrincess in the barn. I think she’s ready to foal and it looks likea storm is brewing out there.”
With that, he exited the kitchen.
She was setting the last bowl on the tablewhen he returned. He came through the door, his hands behind himand a smug look on his face.
“I have some bad news.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What?”
“Scruffy isn’t a Tom cat.” He pulled hishands from behind his back and held them out to her. Cupped in hishand was a tiny black kitten, its eyes still closed.
She gasped, reaching out to touch the kitten.“Oh, how darling.” She glanced up at him. “Is it the only one?”
He shook his head, a wry smile twisting hislips. “Five more.”
“Oh my gosh.” She delicately plucked thekitten from his hand and cuddled it against her cheek. “It’s sosoft.”
He watched her with an amused expression asshe petted the kitten and talked to it. Finally he reached out hishand. “I’d better put it back before Scruffy comes looking forit.”
She reluctantly relinquished the kitten andwatched him retrace his steps to the barn. He hated cats, but hecarried the kitten all the way to the kitchen and back simply toshow her one. She smiled wistfully and turned back to the table.Why did he try so hard to cover his feelings?
The kittens were a catalyst to crumbling thewalls of tension that had been built between them. Over supper theytalked of the expected foal, the ranch, and everything but why theyhadn’t talked much for the last four days. Finally she cleared thetable while he sat back with a cup of coffee. After she washedseveral dishes, she heard a chair scrape the floor behind her. Cadewas beside her, lifting the towel from the hook and a pan from thedish rack.
She caught her breath. “You don’t have to dothat. That’s what you pay me to do. You’ve worked all day long. Whydon’t you sit down and rest and I’ll bring you a piece of pie.”
He lifted a quizzical brow. “You want me toget out of your hair?”
Her cheeks felt warm. “No, I... It’s justthat I should be doing this.”
He nodded, continuing to dry the pan. “Whatwere you doing all day today?”
She grinned. “Not working as hard as you,that’s for sure.” She made a face at him. “How’s that for squirmingout of a leading question?”
It was the first time she saw him break downand indulge in a heart felt smile. She gazed up at him, completelydisarmed by his smile, and yet somehow proud that she had been theone to put it there.
“All the same,” he said, “You’re entitled toa little free time yourself. You shouldn’t be cooped up with a sourold man every evening.”
“You’re not old.” She caught her breath andglanced up at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re not soureither.”
His mouth twisted into what might have passedfor a smile. “Just a little taciturn, huh?” He tucked the pan intothe cabinet.
“You don’t seem to be very happy. Sometimes Iwonder if you...” Her voice trailed off. Why was he looking at herlike that?
“If I have any feelings at all?” His eyeswere dark and distressed. He reached out, gently slipping a handbehind her neck. His thumb caressed her jaw as he gazed down intoher face. “You still wonder, Cindy - Even after the other night?”His voice was soft and husky. He cupped her face in his hands andleaned down, brushing her lips softly with his. His lips were warmand inviting, and she involuntarily responded to their query. Ifonly he would always be this way.
Tenderly, he gripped her shoulders, pullingher close. His hands slid down her back to her waist and stopped,drawing her against his warm body. Her arms slid around his neck oftheir own volition and she pressed close to him passionatelyreturning his affection.
He lifted her into his arms and turned towardthe family room door. She squirmed and he lowered her to the floor.She dodged his arms.
“Cade, I haven’t finished the dishes.”
He frowned. “You’re off the clock now.” Andwith that he swept her into his arms and claimed her lips.
She tried to resist the desire that ransackedher body, but his lips and hands broke down every wall she built -shut off every avenue of escape until she no longer wanted toescape... until she no longer questioned his love. Why resist? Whatcould happen that hadn’t already happened? He loved her and sheloved him. What was more important?
“Russ.” She whispered softly as she slippedher arms around his neck and returned his passionate kiss. Helifted her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom, gentlylowering her to the bed. This time there was no hesitation, norush. Everything was going to be all right now.
But nothing was different when she woke inhis arms hours later. Again she had abandoned morality and shamedherself in front of him. Why had she thought he loved her? He wasmerely devastatingly accomplished at lovemaking - sex. Nothingmore. She had allowed herself to fall into the role of mistress. Atleast he had the decency to remind her she was off the clock andtherefore not a whore - or was she?
She slipped from his bed, feeling sick to herstomach. This was the last time. From now on she would tell him tokeep his hands to himself. It wasn’t his fault. Hadn’t she beenentirely accommodating? How could he know she had
