The Heart of Devin MacKade, Page 9

  sort of thing.”

  Ed cocked her head. “I’d wager Devin’s plenty good at it, so don’t you worry.”

  “Regan said I should let him set the pace. Maybe I shouldn’t be going over there.”

  “Sweetie pie, sometimes even a real man needs a little kick. Now you stop second-guessing yourself and wringing your hands. Go on over there and get him.”

  “I should do something with my hair,” Cassie fretted. “And I’ve chewed off my lipstick, haven’t I? Maybe I should put on a dress.”

  “Cassie.” Ed tipped down her rhinestone glasses, peered over them. “You look fine. You look fresh. He doesn’t care what you’re wearing, take my word for it. He’s only going to care that you’re there. Now go get him.”

  “All right.” Cassie squared her shoulders, picked up her purse. “I’m going. I’m going now. But if you need anything, just—”

  “I won’t need a thing. Go.”

  “I’m going.”

  Ed wiggled her bright red brows as Cassie went out the door. Poor kid, she thought. She looked like she was walking out in front of a firing squad. With a cackle, Ed tipped her glasses back up and flipped the video back on.

  Her money was on Devin MacKade.

  Chapter 7

  He really should just give it up and go back and crawl into his cot. That was what Devin told himself, but he kept right on sitting at his desk with his nose in a book. The story just wasn’t holding his interest. It wasn’t the fault of the author; nothing could have held his interest just then.

  He knew it was foolish, and useless, but he’d had nothing and no one to vent his temper on. So there it was, still curdling inside him. He’d actually considered heading out to the farm and picking a fight with Shane. It would have been easy. Too easy. So he’d decided against it.

  He told himself it was because he was a better man than that. He’d have done that sort of thing in his teens—hell, in his twenties. The fact was, he’d probably have done it last week.

  But it just didn’t suit his mood now.

  He was just going to sit here, in his quiet office, with his feet up on his desk and the chair kicked back, and read. Even if it killed him.

  It was after ten on a weeknight, which meant it was doubtful any calls were going to come in to liven things up. He didn’t have to be there, but he liked the solitude of his office at night, the familiarity of it. And the fact that he could be there, behind the desk instead of behind the bars.

  He hadn’t even turned the radio on, as he often did to bring a little music and company into the night. The only light was the one on his desk, the metal gooseneck lamp aimed at the book in his hands. The book he wasn’t reading.

  He considered getting up and brewing coffee, since he wasn’t going to bed. But it seemed like too much effort.

  It was the first time in his life he could remember being so angry and so tired at the same time. Usually temper energized him, got his blood up and his adrenaline sizzling. Now he was sapped. He supposed it was because most of the anger was self-directed, though he still had plenty left over for Cassie.

  When a woman hurt a man, it was the most natural thing in the world to cover it with anger.

  He’d told other women he loved them. He wouldn’t have denied it. The fact was that he’d tried to love other women. He’d worked hard at it for a space of time. The last thing he’d wanted to do was moon around over something he couldn’t have.

  Which was just what he was doing now.

  Sulking, his mother would have called it, he thought with a grimace. He missed her more just now than he had since she’d died. And he’d missed her quite a bit over the years.

  She’d have given him a cuff on the ear, he supposed, or she’d have laughed. She’d have told him to get his sorry butt up and do something instead of brooding over what he should have done. Or shouldn’t have done.

  Well, he couldn’t think of anything to do, except count his losses. He’d moved too quick, pushed too hard, and he’d stumbled over his own heart.

  The hell with it, Devin thought again, and let the book lie on his chest. Shifting in the chair, he closed his eyes and ordered himself to think about something else.

  He needed to talk to the mayor about getting a stop sign out on the end of Reno Road. Three serious accidents there in a year was reason enough to push for it. Then there was the talk he’d promised to give at the high school for the last assembly before summer hit. And he really had to help Shane with the early haying…

  The dream snuck up on him, sly and crafty. Somehow he’d gotten from the hayfield to her bedroom door. Cassie? No, that wasn’t Cassie. Abigail. Love and longing stirred in him. Why couldn’t she see that she needed him as much as he needed her? Would she just sit there with her hands folded in her lap over her embroidery, her eyes tired and lost?

  It seemed nothing he could say would convince her to come with him, to let him love her, as surely he’d been born to do. No, she would close herself off from him, from everything they could have. Should have.

  Anger stirred along with the love, along with the longing. He was tired of coming begging, with his hat in his hand.

  I won’t ask again, he told her, and she just watched him. I won’t come to you again and have you break my heart. I’ve waited long enough. If this is the way it has to be, I’m leaving Antietam. I can’t keep running the law here, knowing you’re here, always out of reach. I have to pick up whatever pieces are left of my life and go.

  But she said nothing, and he knew when he stepped back, walked down the hall and down the stairs that it was the end. Her weeping drifted to him when he left the house.

  Cassie stood on the other side of the desk, twisting the strap of her purse in her fingers. She hadn’t expected to find him asleep, didn’t know if she would wake him or leave as quietly as she had come.

  There was nothing peaceful about him. There should have been, the way his feet were propped on the desk, crossed at the ankles, the way the book was lying open against his chest, the desk lamp slanting light over it.

  But his face was hard and tense, his mouth grim. She wished she had the courage to smooth those lines away and make him smile.

  Then again, courage had always been her problem.

  He opened his eyes and had her jumping like a rabbit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I wasn’t asleep.” At least he didn’t think he’d been asleep. His brain was fuzzy and full of the scent of roses, and for a moment he’d thought she was wearing some full-skirted blue gown, with lace at the throat.

  Of course, she wasn’t. Just her tidy little blouse and slacks, he thought, dragging a hand through his hair.

  “I was just going over some things in my head. Town business.”

  “If you’re busy, I can—”

  “What do you want, Cassie?”

  “I…” He was still angry. She had expected that, was prepared for it. “I have some things to say to you.”

  “All right. Go ahead.”

  “I know I hurt you, and that you’re furious with me. You don’t want me to apologize. You get mad when I do, so I won’t.”

  “Fine. Aren’t you going to make me coffee?”

  “Oh, I—” She’d already turned to the pot before she caught herself. She drew a breath, turned back and faced him. He had a brow lifted. “No.”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  “I’m used to waiting on people.” Now she was irritated, a not entirely unpleasant sensation, even if an unfamiliar one. “If it annoys you, I can’t help it. Maybe I like waiting on people. Maybe it makes me feel useful.”

  “I don’t want you to wait on me.” He could see the irritation clearly enough. It added a snap to her eyes that fascinated him. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to me.”

  “Well, I do feel obliged. And I can’t help that, either. And the fact that I do feel obliged and do feel grateful— Don’t shout at me, Devin.”

  Impressed with
her no-nonsense tone, he closed his mouth, then added, “I might yet.”

  “At least wait until I’ve finished.” It wasn’t so hard, she realized. It was like dealing with the children, really. You just had to be fair and firm, and not allow yourself to be sidetracked. “I have good reasons to feel obliged to you, and grateful to you, but that doesn’t meant that beyond that, or besides that… It doesn’t mean I don’t have other feelings, too.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. I haven’t had real feelings for a man in—maybe never,” she decided. “But I don’t want to lose your friendship and…affection. Next to the children, there’s no one I care for more than you, Devin. Being with you…” She was going to fumble now, and she hated herself for it. “The way we were today, this afternoon, before you got mad, was so nice, it was so special.”

  She was cutting right through his temper, slicing it to ribbons, the way she was standing there, twisting her purse strap and struggling to find a way to put things right between them.

  “Okay, Cassie, why don’t we—”

  “I came here to go to bed with you.”

  His jaw dropped. He was sure he heard it hit the edge of the desk. Before he could pick it up again, the door burst open and Shane strolled in.

  “Hey, Dev. Hey there, Cassie. Thought you might want to go down to Duff’s and shoot a couple games. Why don’t you come along, Cassie? It’s about time you learned how to shoot pool.”

  “Go away, Shane,” Devin muttered, without taking his eyes off Cassie’s face.

  “Come on, Dev, you’ve got nothing to do around here except read another book and drink stale coffee.” Experimentally he picked up the pot and sniffed. “This stuff’ll kill you.”

  “Get lost now, or die.”

  “What’s the problem? We’ll just—” All innocence, Shane turned back. The tension in the air struck him like a fist, the way his brother was staring at Cassie. The way she was staring back. “Oh. Oh,” he repeated, drawing out the word on a milewide grin. “Well, son of a gun. Who’d have thought?”

  “You’ve got ten seconds to get out the door before I shoot you.”

  “Well, hell, I’m going. How was I supposed to know you and Cassie were—”

  “Tomorrow,” Devin said evenly, and finally managed to get his feet off the desk and onto the floor, “I’m going to break you into very small pieces.”

  “Yeah, right. I guess you two don’t want to play pool, so I’ll be going. Ah, want me to lock this?” he said, winking as Devin snarled at him. But he was obliging enough to flip the latch and shut the door snugly behind him.

  “You’re not really going to fight with him?” Cassie began quickly. “He didn’t mean anything, and…” Tongue-tied, she let her words trail off as Devin walked slowly around the desk.

  “What did you say to me before my idiot brother came in?”

  “That I came here to go to bed with you.”

  “That’s what I thought you said. Is this your way of mending fences and keeping my friendship? Some new way of apologizing?”

  “No.” Oh, she was making a mess of it. He didn’t look amorous, just curious. “Yes, maybe. I’m not sure. I know, at least, I thought you wanted to. Don’t you?”

  “I’m asking what you want.”

  “I’m telling you.” Lord, hadn’t she just said it, out loud, in plain words? “I came here, didn’t I? I called Ed, and she’s staying with the kids, and I’m here.” She shut her eyes briefly. “It isn’t easy for me, Devin.”

  “I can see that. Cassie, I want you, but what I don’t want is for you to think this is necessary to make things up with me.”

  She did what she had done once before. It had worked then. Cupping her hand on his cheek, she leaned up and kissed him.

  “Now you’re waiting for me to jump you,” Devin murmured.

  “Oh, I’m no good at this.” In disgust, she tossed her purse into a chair. “I never have been.”

  “At sex?”

  “Of course at sex. What else are we talking about?”

  “I wonder,” he said quietly, but she was off and running in a way he’d never seen or heard before.

  “I don’t know what you want, or how to give it. If you’d just do whatever you usually do, it would be all right. It’s not that I won’t like it, I will. I’m sure I will. It’s not your fault that I’m clumsy or stiff, or that I don’t have orgasms.”

  She broke off in horror, and saw that he was gaping at her.

  “Excuse me?”

  Someone else had said that, she thought frantically, looking everywhere but at him. Surely someone else had said that. All she could do to cover the overwhelming tide of horrid embarrassment was to rush on.

  “What I mean is, I want to go to bed with you. I know it’ll be nice, because it’s nice when you kiss me, so I’m sure the rest will be, too. And if you’d just do something, I wouldn’t be feeling so stupid.”

  What the hell was he supposed to do? He knew very well the woman standing there was the mother of two, had been married for a decade. And he’d just realized she was as close to a virgin as anyone he’d ever touched.

  It scared the living hell out of him.

  He started to tell her that they would take a step back, take it slow. Then he knew that was the wrong way to go. It was painfully obvious that so much of her had been crushed already. What he would know was patience, she would see as rejection.

  “I should do what I want with you?”

  Enormously relieved, she smiled. “Yes.”

  It was an offer that had the juices flowing hot. He knew if he wanted this to work he had to clamp down on needs—and on nerves. “And I’ll tell you what to do, and you’ll do it.”

  “Yes.” Oh, it was really so simple. “If you just don’t expect too much, and you—”

  “Why don’t we start this way?” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered his mouth gently to hers. “There’s something I want very much, Cassie.”

  “All right.”

  “I want you to say you’re not afraid of me, that you know I won’t hurt you.”

  “I’m not. I know you won’t.”

  “And I want you to promise something.” He skimmed his lips up her jaw, felt her shoulders relax under his hands.

  “All right.”

  “That you’ll say stop if you mean stop, if I do something you don’t like.”

  “You won’t.”

  His lips cruised around to her ear and made something quake inside her. “Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  He took her hand and led her through the door into the small room he used at night. It was dark. It held little more than a narrow bed, a rickety table, an ashtray he rarely used anymore.

  “It shouldn’t be here. I should take you somewhere.”

  “No.” If it wasn’t now, she’d lose her nerve. What difference did atmosphere make, when it was dark and her eyes were closed? “This is fine.”

  “We’ll make it better than fine.”

  He lit one of the station’s emergency candles, so at least there was soft light. She couldn’t know how arousing she was, standing there, tidy and terrified, prepared to give herself. To sacrifice herself, he thought grimly.

  He would show her different.

  “I love you, Cassie.” It didn’t matter that she didn’t believe him. She would. He kissed her again, slowly, deeply, patiently, putting his heart into it.

  And moment after moment there was nothing but the kiss, the taste of it, the meeting of lips, the way she softened against him.

  “Hold me,” he murmured.

  Obedient, wanting to please, she wrapped her arms around him. There was a little shock when she felt how hard he was, how strong. How odd it was to hold him tight against her. While his mouth moved over hers, she stroked her hands over his back.

  “I want to see you.” He continued to rub his lips over her throat, even as her hands tensed on his back. He didn’t mind her bei
ng shy. He found it endearing. “You have such a lovely face.” His eyes stayed on it as he slowly undid the buttons of her blouse. “Eyes like fog, and that sexy mouth.”

  She blinked, thrown off enough to make no protest when he parted her blouse. No one had ever called her sexy. Then his gaze shifted downward, and the sound that rumbled in his throat had something curling hard in her stomach.

  He was cupping her breasts in his hands, holding them as if they were delicate glass that could be shattered by a careless touch.

  “Lovely.”

  “I’m small.”

  “Perfect.” He lifted his gaze to hers again. “Just perfect.” He watched her lashes flutter when he circled her breasts, brushed his thumbs over her nipples. And his blood heated when they stiffened, when she shuddered, when her eyes opened again in surprise and went dark.

  What was he doing? Why wasn’t he squeezing or pulling? She felt her head spin before it fell back. Heard, with a kind of dull shock, her own moan.

  “Do you have to close your eyes?” he asked her. It wasn’t so difficult to keep his hands easy, after all, not on skin that was soft as silk. “I like to watch them go cloudy when I touch you. I love to touch you, Cassie.”

  “I can’t breathe.”

  “You’re breathing. I can feel your heart.” He lowered his lips to her shoulder before straightening to pull off his shirt. “Feel mine.”

  My oh my, Cassie thought. He looked like something in one of those glossy magazines. All muscles and firm smooth skin. With only the slightest of hesitations, she laid a hand on his chest, and smiled. “It’s pounding. Are you ready?”

  “Oh, Cassie.” Biting back a groan, he drew her into his arms, cradled her there, savored the feel of her flesh pressed against his. “I haven’t even started.”

  Because she thought he meant something entirely different, her brows drew together and she swallowed her distaste and reached courageously for his crotch.

  With a ripe oath, he jerked back, stuttering, as she covered herself and gaped.

  “I thought you wanted… I thought you meant…” Good God, he’d been hard as rock. And huge.

  He decided laughing would be better than screaming. “Darlin’, you do that again, I’m going to embarrass myself, and we’ll have to start all over. If it’s all the same to you, I’d just like to touch you for a while.”

  “I don’t mind, but you’re…”

  “I know what I am. You said you’d do what I want,” he reminded her, fighting to keep his voice from growing rough with need. “I want you to look at me, look right at me now.”

  When she did, he skimmed his hands over her breasts again. He could see surprised pleasure ripple over her face, hear it in her quickening breaths. So he began to murmur to her, endearments, foolishness, gauging her reaction.

  When her eyes closed, he lifted her slowly off her feet, holding her suspended, trailing his mouth down from hers and over her throat, her collarbone, and at last to her breast.

  Her hands clamped on his shoulders and her body arched as arrows—bullets—of hot sensation pierced through her flesh and straight to her center to burn. She shook her head, struggling to clear it.

  “Devin.”

  He laved his tongue over her. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No. No.”

  “Thank God.”

  When she was quivering, when her hands were clutching and flexing on his skin, he lowered her to the floor again, until his mouth was fixed on hers. Her