by Cindy Kirk
Cassidy held her breath.
“You have a piece of—” the side of his finger brushed her mouth and sent heat shooting through her blood “—cheese.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “Guess you can’t take me anywhere.”
He smiled, but there was a strange heat in his eyes. Or perhaps she’d simply imagined it, because a second later it had vanished. “You look lovely tonight.”
“Thank you. I wanted to do something in honor of Old West Days.” Though Cassidy loved flashy dresses and short skirts, for today’s festivities she’d chosen a pair of jeggings that hugged her long, slender legs like a second skin. She’d topped the tight pants with a bandanna tee in lime green. A bright blue belt cinched the shirt tight around her waist. Cowboy boots completed the ensemble.
Though she’d momentarily considered pulling her hair up in a stylish tail, at the last second she’d decided to let it tumble loose around her shoulders, better to show off several thin streaks of lime near the front.
Cassidy knew she looked her best. She’d made sure of it. But she wasn’t the only hottie in the room. “Allow me to say, Dr. Duggan, that you look übersexy this evening.”
Her gaze lingered on his white polo and sun-bronzed, muscular arms.
Tim laughed a bit self-consciously.
“No lie. Jeans, white shirt and buff bod do it for me every time.”
He laughed. “Now it’s my turn to thank you. I can’t remember the last time anyone told me I was sexy.”
“You’ve obviously been hanging around the wrong women.”
He only grinned and moved the conversation to her business, something Cassidy could talk about for hours. In addition to her hair salon, Clippety Do Dah—that happened to be doing a rockin’ business—last year she’d expanded into hair, makeup and nails for special events.
“Is Hailey still helping you out?” Tim asked.
Speech therapist Hailey Ferris was a genius with makeup. For the past couple of years she’d been helping Cassidy with special events.
“Not anymore. Too much on her plate. Wife to Winn, mother to Cameron and now being pregnant...” Cassidy lifted her hands and let them drop. “That’s not even taking into account her speech therapy clients.”
“I forgot that she’s part of that multi-therapy clinic Meg Lassiter started,” he said, referring to another of their friends.
“Her plate totally runneth over.” Cassidy took another bite of pizza. She was happy for Hailey, truly she was, but Cassidy really needed the help. “She told me she’ll fill in when I’m desperate, but knowing her situation I won’t ask.”
“Do you have a replacement in mind?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been beating the bushes and coming up empty. If you know anyone—”
“I may.”
Cassidy vowed if he said Jayne Connors, she was going to slug him. Or throw up. Or maybe both.
“Jewel Lucas.”
The slice of pizza hovered an inch from Cassidy’s lips as an image of the dark-haired woman with the vivid green eyes came into focus. “I thought she worked for the paper?”
“She does special features, but it’s not anywhere near full-time.” Tim relaxed against the back of the wooden booth. “I ran into her at the grocery store last week and she mentioned she was looking for another part-time job. Kids are expensive. And she’s a single parent.”
Jewel had given birth shortly after high school graduation. Supposedly the father could have been any one of a number of guys. The pretty brunette had always marched to the beat of her own drummer. Something she and Cassidy had in common. “What makes you think she’s qualified?”
“Caro used to say Jewel had a way with makeup.” He looked sheepish. “Forget I said anything.”
“No. No. Thank you.” Cassidy paused. “How old is her son now?”
“I believe Cullen is in middle school.”
Another positive, Cassidy thought. “I’ll definitely keep her in mind.”
The subject switched again and Tim found himself telling Cassidy little anecdotes about his daughters. To his surprise, her eyes didn’t glaze over and she seemed genuinely interested, especially when he got to the part about their fascination with the kittens.
“I always wanted a pet when I was growing up.” A shadow passed across Cassidy’s pretty face. “There were some feral strays around the neighborhood. I’d feed them when I could. Still, they rarely got tame enough to pet. It’s hard to trust when you’ve been burned.”
Silence hung between them for several moments.
“My mother still has an available kitten.”
“You should take it,” she urged, which wasn’t at all the point he’d been trying to make.
He shook his head. “Pets are a lot of work.”
Tim couldn’t help recalling Caro’s long-ago response when he’d once mentioned the possibility of getting a dog or a cat.
“And messy,” he added. “I know my mother is always sweeping up hair.”
“A little hair on the floor isn’t such a big thing.” She flashed a smile. “Speaking of hair, you’re due for a trim.”
“I’ll give you a call next week and set something up.” Tim hesitated, realizing he wanted to see her again and not just for a haircut.
He wanted to chat with her over dinner about her job and his practice, about kids and pets and mutual friends. He felt comfortable with her. And, as he’d discovered this evening, if he didn’t want to talk, she was more than willing to take the conversational ball and run with it.
Should he ask her out for real? The moment the thought crossed his mind he remembered his daughters and the responsibility he carried. There was no way he could toss dating into the mix when his free time was already so limited.
For now, he would enjoy this evening.
Tomorrow was soon enough to return to the real world.
Chapter Three
“If I get on the bull, you have to get on it, too.” Cassidy pinned Tim with her gaze and he heard the challenge in her tone.
After sending their saturated-fat levels into the stratosphere with the Philly steak pizza, Cassidy suggested they stop at Wally’s Place, a popular local saloon, for an after-dinner drink and dessert.
For Caro, the perfect after-dinner drink and dessert had always been a glass of Sauternes and crème brûlée.
For Cassidy, the drink of choice appeared to be Corona straight from the bottle and one of Wally’s famous “salted peanut chews.” She popped the last bite of the bar into her mouth and slanted another glance in the bull’s direction.
A red-faced tourist was slowly pulling himself up from the padded floor next to the mechanical bull.
“There’s no line.” Cassidy’s tone held an excited edge. In one fluid motion she stood and shoved back her chair. “This is our chance.”
Seeing no good way out, Tim slowly rose to his feet. “You really want to do this?”
“Do leopards have spots?”
Though he was pretty sure they didn’t, he took the response as confirmation. The appealing way her tight-fitting jeans hugged her backside kept his mind occupied as he followed her to the other side of the bar.
“Do you want to go first?” She paused by the bull, slapping one hand on the side, as if staking a claim. “Or can I?”
Can I? She spoke as if being first up was something to be prized.
Tim gazed at the mechanical contraption. He’d been in Wally’s many times over the years, but had paid little attention to the ride. Right now, the doctor in him couldn’t help but think of all the ways Cassidy could get hurt.
If she was determined to do this—and it appeared she was—he would go first. That way she could witness the danger up front and close.
From the time he’d been small,
Tim had been a thinker. Unlike his two sisters, he’d never been impulsive. Normally his caution served him well. But this time he hesitated too long. While he was pondering the situation, Cassidy scrambled onto the bull. She now sat, listening intently as the man in charge gave her pointers.
When the operator paused to take a breath, Cassidy slanted a glance in his direction and winked. The impact of the flirtatious gaze had him sucking in a quick breath. For whatever reason, her smile did the craziest things to his insides.
Refocusing on the bull, Cassidy wrapped the reins tightly around one hand. In a surprisingly graceful gesture, she lifted the other hand high in the air.
The operator, a bald guy with a Fu Manchu mustache and an easy smile, dropped a cowboy hat onto her head. “Ready to ride?”
This was wrong. Reckless. Crazy.
Fear sluiced through him. She could be seriously hurt.
“Cassidy, don’t—”
“Let ’er rip,” she called out and immediately the bull began to move slowly up and down.
She made an engaging sight in her tight jeans and the green tee that showed off her curves to full advantage. The cowboy hat perched on her blond curls only added to her charm. Though he recalled vividly how soft she’d felt against him when they’d kissed, Tim saw muscle definition in the arm holding the reins and in the long legs gripping the bull as it picked up speed and began to buck.
A whistle from between the teeth of a gangly cowboy split the air. Within seconds a slew of men gathered around, cheering her on.
Tim was powerless to do anything but watch and admire. The look of pure joy on her face as she and the bull moved as one held him transfixed.
Finally the ride ended. Cassidy emitted a loud whoop and hopped off. After handing the hat back to Fu Manchu, she waved cheerily to her “fans” then sidled up to Tim.
“It’s a real kick.” Her breath came in excited puffs and her cheeks were an enticing pink. “You’re going to love it.”
Though Tim seriously doubted that, he wouldn’t back out. A deal was a deal.
He strode over to the bull with a confidence he didn’t feel, secured the reins and wished—for the first time—he’d at least tried rodeo club in high school.
“Don’t force it,” Cassidy murmured in a low undertone meant for his ears only. “Relax and move with the bull.”
Moving with the bull wasn’t difficult, not at first. Then, just as Tim thought he might be getting the hang of it, the blasted animal went loco. It shifted side to side before pitching radically forward, nearly sending him toppling. But he held on and—remembering Cassidy’s words—did his best to relax and stay loose.
His heart pounded. Sweat dotted his brow. Adrenaline zipped like a lightning bolt through his veins. Tim heard himself whoop like Cassidy had only minutes before. Holding tight to the reins with one hand, the other sliced the air.
“Ride ’em, cowboy,” Cassidy called out.
He grinned as another hard lurch nearly sent him toppling. But he didn’t panic—panicking wasn’t in his nature—and stayed loose.
It felt as if he’d just gotten into the groove when the bull slowed then stopped. Even before Tim’s feet were back on solid ground, he was shocked to find himself wishing the ride had lasted longer.
The thought had barely crossed his mind when Cassidy let out a squeal and flung her arms around his neck. The momentum of her body slamming against his sent him staggering back. Quickly regaining his footing, he swung her around.
When they stopped twirling, he kept his arms around her, his gaze on her laughing face. Mesmerized by Cassidy’s luscious hot-pink lips, eyes that almost looked violet in the dim light and the intoxicating, sultry scent of her perfume, he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
Seriously tempted to kiss her right then and there, Tim didn’t know what to think when she stepped back, grabbed his hand and tugged him straight through the doors of the saloon.
While perplexed, he couldn’t help but feel that leaving was a good thing. When she’d first gotten off the bull, he’d noticed how many of the men stared as if she was a piece of meat and they hadn’t eaten in a week. No, Tim had zero qualms about leaving the bar.
Finally pausing once they reached the boardwalk, Cassidy grinned up at him. “That was a blast. I had so much fun.”
Was? Had? Immediately picking up on the change in tense, Tim fought a surge of disappointment and forced a light tone. “Are you telling me the date is over?”
For a second she simply stared. Then she wagged a finger at him, blue eyes laughing and a little too bright. “You’re not getting off that easy, Doctor. I have an entire night of debauchery planned. Trust me, we’re just getting started.”
* * *
A stagecoach ride couldn’t by any stretch of the imagination be considered debauchery. Still, Cassidy had always wanted to check out this Old West Days attraction and this “date” with Tim seemed the perfect opportunity.
“Last year the girls begged me to take them on a stagecoach ride,” Tim informed Cassidy as the old-fashioned coach, painted in vivid shades of red and green, creaked its way through town with them inside. “But the line was so long we gave up and got cotton candy instead.”
Cotton candy.
Cassidy smiled. Something else on her list for tonight. “The rainbow kind is my favorite.”
“Then I shall buy you some.” His gentlemanly tone reminded her of the guys in the old movies Cassidy watched when she had trouble falling asleep.
She loved this teasing, relaxed side of Tim. Since his wife died, he’d seemed so somber.
One of her goals tonight was to show him how much fun life could be, if you didn’t take it—or yourself—too seriously. By the smile on his lips, her plan appeared to be bearing fruit.
Cassidy relaxed against the back of the tufted leather seat, wishing Tim would loosen up even more and put an arm around her shoulders. She could picture the scene now. Picture herself resting her head against his broad chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt—
Without warning, the stagecoach jerked, propelling Cassidy forward. With the lightning-fast reflexes of a former high school wide receiver, Tim pulled her against his chest as if she was a ball sent his way in a Hail Mary.
“What happened?” She knew her slightly breathless delivery had little to do with the sudden jolt and everything to do with the thrill of having his arms finally around her.
“I’d say we hit a buffalo. Or a rut.” He chuckled. “One of the perils of traveling down a dirt road to add authenticity to the ride.”
“Oh.” Cassidy expelled a shaky breath but didn’t move a muscle, afraid if she did he might release her. And that she couldn’t abide. Not when she was finally right where she wanted to be.
“You’re okay.” His tone was soft and soothing, his hand stroking her arm in a gesture that was obviously meant to be reassuring.
Obviously he’d concluded her labored breathing was due to nearly planting her face in the rustic floorboards. The truth was, his nearness, his arms around her, was stoking the fire that had burned in her belly since he’d arrived at her apartment door.
After a moment, he shifted uncomfortably.
Cassidy lifted her gaze and found him staring. From the predatory gleam, she wasn’t the only one experiencing the effects of the closeness. Slowly, with her eyes firmly fixed on his face, she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.
The deliberate action was calculated to draw his attention to her mouth, a mouth that yearned for a long, slow taste of his lips.
By the flash of heat in his eyes, the ploy worked. The web of attraction that had been hovering dropped and tightened around them, shutting out the world.
Though the road had turned smooth as a baby’s backside, instead of releasing her, Tim tightened his hold. Which was
just fine with her.
Cassidy reveled in the closeness and the spicy scent of his cologne. Her entire body tingled with anticipation.
Tim leaned close and cupped her face gently in one large palm. The lips she wanted so desperately on hers were only a breath away.
Placing her hand flat against his chest, Cassidy smiled up at him. She prayed he’d see in her eyes she wanted this as much as he did, maybe more.
Without warning, the stagecoach shuddered to a stop. The unexpected movement jerked them back against the seat. Seconds later, the door swung open and sounds of exited chatter from a group of waiting passengers filled the small interior compartment.
“End of the line, folks,” the round-faced driver called out, his deep voice at odds with the boyish face.
Tim muttered something under his breath and released her.
The driver held out his hand to Cassidy but his apologetic smile was directed at both of them. “Sorry about the bump earlier. Have to admit I didn’t see the rut until I’d hit it. Anyway, I hope you folks enjoyed the ride.”
“Loved it.” Cassidy flashed the man a brilliant smile then glanced back at Tim. “I wish it had lasted a little longer, though. I wasn’t quite ready for it to end.”
* * *
Street dances had never appealed to Caro. Tim had thought his wife’s objections made a lot of sense: intoxicated people who didn’t know the first thing about how to properly dance making fools of themselves. Consequently, during their marriage, they’d never once come down to West Deloney during Old West Days.
Yet, here Tim stood on this last weekend in May gyrating with Cassidy and hundreds of strangers. The scene in this section of downtown Jackson bore a distinct resemblance to Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Music blasted from a popular regional band who’d taken the stage in front of the local theater. There was vitality and electricity in the air that Tim found contagious.
He couldn’t believe the number of people he knew—and the number Cassidy knew—who stopped to bump and grind beside them before moving on. After a particularly fine rock classic that got everyone’s blood pumping, Tim concluded he’d definitely been missing something all these years.
