Cassie thought about the roast she was going to put in the oven. Three guests were staying for dinner tonight. Nash hadn’t signed up, and she hadn’t spoken to him so she didn’t know if he’d be around. “I could use marjoram and thyme. I want to make a rub for the roast. Maybe parsley, too. I might make parsley buttered potatoes.”
Renata had her snippers right at the bin. She said, “I’ll clip some for you.”
“Would you like some roast beef and potatoes and green beans tonight? I’ll have plenty.”
“Cassie, you’re too good to me.”
“Not possible.”
“Hold out your hands,” Renata said.
Cassie did as she was told.
Renata placed the stems of marjoram and thyme in Cassie’s hands, then laid longer stems of parsley across those. “Don’t drop them,” she warned.
“I won’t. I’ll bring your meal over as soon as I serve my guests.”
Renata’s eyes grew suspiciously moist. She gave Cassie a hug. When Cassie left the protection of the older woman’s arms to head for her own house, she missed them. She missed her mother, too, the mother she’d really never had.
* * *
Cassie went to bed that night with the scent of cinnamon rolls still pervading the bed-and-breakfast. She’d made them for Nash as a thank-you, and it was a point she wanted to emphasize. She’d left them on the desk wrapped in foil with Nash’s name affixed to the package. Before she’d turned in tonight, they’d been gone, so she assumed he’d gotten them.
She tried not to think of Nash but rather concentrated on the show she was going to have this summer. She had paintings in her head that her fingers were itching to paint onto canvas. She thought about painting before bed, but it seemed more important to get a good night’s sleep and start fresh in the morning. When she turned off the light, she expected to do just that.
However, she tossed and turned for about an hour, finally falling into a restless sleep. A dream began pleasantly enough. She was on a street lined with vibrant colored flowers and oil paintings in every style. But as she walked up the street, she suddenly felt as if someone were following her. She glanced over her shoulder but could only spot a shadow. As she walked faster, the shadow came after her faster.
She began jogging and the shadow seemed to jog, too. Next, she was running full out. The flowers disappeared. The paintings disappeared. Dilapidated row houses lined both sides of the street. She was streaking by them so fast she didn’t know if she might have lived in one of them. Faster and faster she ran. There were no sidewalks here but she was running along the yellow line in the middle of the road.
Suddenly a car was speeding toward her but it wasn’t on its side of the road. It was in the middle. It began weaving back and forth in wide swerves. She knew she should run back the way she’d come or run over to the side. But it was as if her feet were entrenched on that yellow line in the middle of the road. The car kept coming closer and her mother was driving. The car was going to hit her.
She was calling her mother’s name. Screaming. Out of nowhere somebody grabbed her and pulled her out of the way just as the car reached her.
She woke up still screaming. Someone was rocking her in his arms, stroking her hair, murmuring, “Shush. You’re all right.”
She realized her hair was matted to her head. She was shaking, and she was in Nash’s arms.
He held her protectively, stroking her cheek, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “You’re fine,” he said. “You’re safe.” His strong baritone commanded her to believe it.
What she couldn’t believe was that the dream had seemed so real. She grabbed onto Nash, still feeling a bit crazed. “A car was coming toward me. My—” She stopped. “It was going to hit me.”
Nash was studying her, looking genuinely concerned. “Do you want to tell me what else was in the dream?”
She didn’t want to talk about it. If she did, she could let something slip. She was sure the dream had something to do with her childhood and the fact that her mother was now in prison. But she couldn’t say any of that to Nash.
She sat up straighter. “I’ll be okay. Really, I will.”
It was apparent that Nash didn’t believe her. He just sat there holding her, and she let him because the strength of his arms felt so good around her.
“Dreams can be a way your mind settles problems. They bring fears to the surface so you can deal with them.”
“You’ve had dream therapy?” she tried to joke.
“No, but I have had some training in PTSD, and a bit of psychology.” Nash was still rocking her gently.
Cassie didn’t want to delve into the psychology of her dream. She didn’t want to talk about it at all. “Did you eat the cinnamon rolls?” she asked, hoping he’d drop the subject.
“I ate two and I have one left.”
“You don’t have to save it. I have some left for breakfast if you want them then.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The longer he held her, the more she could feel heat building between them. He was wearing a light T-shirt and soft lounge pants. She could not only see the muscles under his shirt, but she could feel them. She was so tired of fighting the attraction between them. In some ways, the dream had made her aware of how short life was. Maybe it was time she lived it instead of watching it pass her by.
She looked up at Nash, knowing what she felt was apparent in her eyes. She didn’t know how to hide that kind of feeling. She didn’t know how to hide the fact that she was falling in love with him.
“I want to kiss you, Cassie. In fact, I want to do more than kiss you. But I feel you’re vulnerable right now, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Nothing else Nash said could have made him more endearing to her. He was still trying to protect her, setting his needs aside.
“I’m not vulnerable. Since you’ve been here, a wall or two has fallen down. Why shouldn’t I enjoy myself? Why shouldn’t I enjoy you? It’s silly to pretend we don’t want each other when we do.”
“You make it sound so reasonable.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She trembled and this time it wasn’t because of the dream.
Nash’s hand was a bit rough as he cupped her face. She took it and felt it, running her fingers over a callus or two. “You’ve done hard work.”
“I told you I worked construction. Back when I was in high school I helped to build houses. So at times, in between investigations, I help to build houses for organizations like Homes for Families. I don’t want to forget all those skills I learned.”
When she still fingered his palm, he closed his eyes for a moment. She kissed one of the calluses and he let out a groan. “Cassie.” Her name was a warning that she didn’t intend to heed. She kissed his palm again.
“You shouldn’t,” he growled.
“Why not?”
“Because I might end up in this bed with you.”
His words were so arousing she wasn’t sure what to do next. But as she kept her gaze locked to his, his hands slid along her collarbone. She loved the feel of his skin on hers. Her heart raced and her stomach felt as if it were somersaulting. She didn’t want to reach for him because she felt she’d been forward enough. What if he didn’t want her? What if he didn’t want to make love with her?
But she needn’t have worried. He bent his head and murmured, “I came down to the kitchen for a glass of milk to have with that cinnamon roll, but I heard you screaming even through your door. It wasn’t locked. Why don’t you keep it locked?”
“Usually I do, but tonight I was distracted.”
He bent his head closer to hers. “I’m distracted by you, morning, noon and night. But especially at night.”
So he did want her. At first, she thought she was hearing the ticking of her clock on her bedside stand, but then she realized she was hea
ring her heart pounding and maybe his. When his kiss came, it drew her out of herself and into him. Before his kisses had seemed to have finesse. This one didn’t. This one was abject hunger, on his part and on hers. She welcomed his tongue into her mouth. She couldn’t seem to get close enough to him. Desire mixed with the exquisite feeling of being wanted. She kissed him back as if he didn’t live in Biloxi, as if he weren’t going to leave, as if he weren’t involved in an investigation that could change his life in so many ways. She almost felt dizzy with the need he created in her.
He caressed her, his hands blazing a trail of heat through her nightgown, making her crazy with need. He dropped kisses onto her neck, nuzzled her nose and whispered, “Maybe we should take off your nightgown.”
“It’s about time you suggested it.”
He laughed and took hold of the hem. It was up and over her head and on the floor in no time. “I don’t know why women wear nightgowns,” he said. “You should just go to bed nude.”
“Do you?” she returned, amused.
“I do,” he assured her.
She knew she’d keep with her the picture of Nash in his bed naked for all time. But soon she’d have an even better picture to remember. She pulled the drawstring at his waist.
“Tit for tat?” he asked.
“Something like that, unless you want to keep your clothes on.”
“Not a chance,” he said gruffly, proceeding to rid himself of his clothes.
Nash kissed her with renewed passion, but then suddenly broke away. “I hate to take the romance out of this, but I have to ask. Do you have any condoms?”
As her brain and her body settled from his kiss, the question suddenly resonated. She shook her head slowly back and forth. “No.”
Nash’s face fell, and his brows drew together. He seemed to move away from her a little. Before he could, she took hold of his hand and interlaced her fingers with his. “I’m on the pill, Nash.” She knew he was going to wonder why when she said she didn’t date. So she explained, “My doctor put me on it to help with my periods. I was having bad cramps.” She saw the look on his face that said he wasn’t used to discussing this, and she almost laughed. But she didn’t. “I hope that doesn’t come under the category of too much information, but I’m not going to get pregnant if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He took her into his arms again. “Nothing’s too much information when it’s about you.”
She didn’t know if a man had ever said something so nice to her. She felt tears burning in her eyes.
As they lay there, skin against skin in her single bed, she could detect the scent of soap on Nash. He must have gotten a shower before he’d gone to bed. “You smell good,” she said, nuzzling his chest.
“So do you,” he murmured as he nipped at her shoulder. “You always seem to smell like cinnamon and vanilla.”
“I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” she said with a laugh.
“It’s good, very good.” Then Nash began to tell her in actions rather than in words.
His lips and tongue explored her all over with excruciating, sensual fervor. Cassie never expected she’d be capable of the passion that Nash drew from her. His every kiss and touch was exciting and brand-new. It all seemed so natural—his thumb teasing her nipple, his lips kissing her navel, his hands gently separating her thighs. In some ways Cassie wanted to prolong each kiss and each caress. In other ways, she wanted to hurry and find the satisfaction she knew Nash could give her.
She enjoyed exploring his male body—the definition, the strength, the tautness that she knew was due to tension because he was holding back. His next kiss was a claiming kiss, and she realized what it meant. They were both ready. As he rose above her, she gazed into his eyes, just trying to see the present because they might not have a future. Sadness about that didn’t have a chance to take hold.
Nash urged her to raise her legs and she did. She wrapped them around his waist as he entered her slowly, teasing her with a fulfillment that they both wanted. Cassie felt the sensual excitement and pleasure that had eluded her all of her adult life as Nash thrust into her, withdrew and then thrust again. She knew with absolute certainty that tonight she was losing her heart to him completely. When her climax engulfed her, his engulfed him. Together they shouted each other’s names. Together they found supreme pleasure. Not long after, Cassie fell asleep in Nash’s arms, totally content to be exactly where she was.
* * *
Cassie awakened at daylight as she usually did. She could see the sunrise through the curtains at her window. Everything about last night came back, every memory, every pleasure, but she wasn’t sure how to deal with it. She glanced over her shoulder at Nash, but didn’t want to wake him. She’d simply slip out of bed, go to the kitchen and prepare a casserole for breakfast.
But as she moved only a few inches, Nash snagged her around her waist with his arm. “Going somewhere?” he asked into her ear.
She swallowed hard. “I was going to get breakfast ready.”
He rubbed his chin against her shoulder. “Isn’t it too early for breakfast?”
“Not if the egg has to soak into the bread, and I have to make bacon to top it with, and—” She was rambling but Nash stopped her.
“I get that you’re rattled. I am, too. But don’t you think we should talk about it?”
“Is there anything to talk about?”
“I guess not if you don’t think there is.”
He sounded...disappointed. She turned around to face him. “Last night was wonderful.”
“Then why are you running off? Do you regret it?”
“I don’t have any regrets,” she assured him. She had no regrets because she knew she was already in love with Nash. But he was going to be leaving town soon. Could she coax him to stay?
“Then what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Because you’re leaving, this...” she motioned to the two of them in the bed. “Whatever this is has an expiration date.”
“Only if we want it to,” he said.
She was reminded of Renata’s advice that there were planes and cars that could help a long-distance relationship.
However, distance wasn’t the real problem for Cassie. She maybe could fly back and forth or drive back and forth to Biloxi, or maybe he could. No, the real problem was the truth that reared its ugly head between them. If they continued whatever was building between them, she’d have to tell him that her mother was in prison. Once she did that, he’d leave anyway. He had to. She knew what he thought about law and order. She knew he believed right and wrong was cut-and-dried, black-and-white. To Cassie, her mom being in prison was all kinds of shades of gray.
“I really do have to start breakfast,” she reminded him. “Can we talk again later?” That would give her time to think about it more.
He frowned. “We can talk later.” He sat up on the edge of the bed, grabbed his pants and started putting them on.
“I’m throwing a birthday party for Renata tonight,” she told him as she lay there. “A few neighbors are coming. I just want to make her feel special. I have a birthday cake to bake, too. Will you be around this evening?” She couldn’t keep the hopefulness from her voice.
He turned to her and she saw that his frown had disappeared. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. What can I get her?”
“I got her a velvet throw for her sofa, though she insists she doesn’t need anything. If you really want to get her something—”
“Tell me what you have in mind.”
“I know she likes baskets. She has one that she uses to carry in vegetables from her garden. But hers is practically coming apart.”
“All right. I passed one of those home stores. They should have baskets, shouldn’t they?”
“They should.”
“And I could fill it with things she needs—
dish detergent, tissues, plastic wrap, that kind of thing.”
“That’s a wonderful idea!”
Cassie slipped her nightgown over her head and stood up. “So we’ll talk tonight after the party?”
Rising to his feet, Nash plucked his shirt from the floor. “We will.” Then he gave her a kiss that told her he remembered everything about last night, too.
As he left her room, Cassie wondered if she’d have the courage tonight to tell him about her mother.
Chapter Twelve
Nash couldn’t stop thinking about last night while he showered. Visions of making love to Cassie filled his mind and his heart. He hadn’t felt anything near to this with Sara. What did that tell him?
That he was seeing something in Cassie that wasn’t there? That he had healed from his relationship with Sara? That enough time had passed and romance now seemed a possibility?
Maybe all of the above.
He took his time dressing because today he simply didn’t think he could keep his mind on research, records and the Robinson family.
He still had one of the cinnamon rolls Cassie had left him last night. Perfect. He took a bottle of water from the six-pack he’d brought to his room. Other than picking up Renata’s present, he needed to hole up in here today and shut out the rest of the world. Maybe then he’d get some clarity on all of it.
Because after Mrs. Garcia’s party, he and Cassie were going to have a talk. The problem was he had no idea what he was going to say.
Opening the bottle of water, he took a few swigs and settled at his desk. There he opened the foil that he’d rewrapped around the lone cinnamon roll. Cassie’s thank-you present. He sighed. In some ways, she was a tough nut to crack. He still didn’t know that much about her, other than the fact that she came from Bryan. He wondered if the Austin library would have yearbooks from Bryan. Maybe he could learn something more about her from the yearbook.
He’d finished the last of the cinnamon roll and wiped his hands on a napkin when his cell phone buzzed.
It was early. Who could be calling him? Had his supervisor somehow learned what he was up to?
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