by Francis Ray
He accepted the tug in his heart, the wish that she would always be there for him. She looked right there somehow. He admitted the idea of coming home to a loving, warm, and waiting woman was something he’d never let himself imagine.
Closing the door, he went to the sofa. For a long moment he simply watched her sleep. She was beautiful, her lashes black and silky, her perfectly shaped lips slightly parted.
And she could never be his. Even if they got past their working together, she wasn’t the brief affair type. She felt too deeply. As much as he wanted her, he wanted her to stay happy more. The unfairness of life caused him to clench his fist instead of brushing the hair from her cheek, kissing her awake.
“Sabrina.” He gently shook her shoulder, a safe place to touch her.
Her eyes opened. She smiled. A warm sensual expression on her incredible face, she reached up to touch his face. He caught her hand. “Sabrina.”
She blinked. He released her hand. He should move away. He didn’t. “Is the patient all right?” she asked as she sat up.
“Yes. You were supposed to call a cab.” Instead you’re here, tempting me with what I can’t have.
She ran a distracted hand through her hair, causing her breasts to rise, tempting him even more. “I started to, but I was afraid if I left you might change your mind about talking to me.”
“It’s almost five. You should be home.”
“Not until you forgive me.”
He pushed to his feet. “Let’s forget about it.”
She stood, coming to the middle of his chest. He could lift her with one arm, and yet she got to him as no one ever had. “Neither one of us can do that.”
He hadn’t expected it to be easy. The crazy thing was she was being stubborn for him. “My first patient appointment is at nine. I need to check on a couple of patients in the hospital before then,” he told her. “I need some sleep.”
“You can’t just ignore it,” she persisted.
He brushed both hands over his head. “Why can’t you just let it go?”
“Because ignoring something doesn’t make it go away.” She placed her unsteady hand on his chest. He felt the softness, the warmth, and fought to keep from crushing her to him. “If we don’t get past this, it will always be between us.”
She had finally given voice to the growing awareness between them. Only there could never be an “us,” but from the look in her eyes when he’d woken her that was what she wanted. Lord help him, he wanted it too. “I’m going to bed.”
She folded her arms. “Now who’s being stubborn?”
“Since you’re staying, you want to tuck me in?” he asked, unsure if he was joking or half hoping she’d take him up on the offer.
Her breath caught. Air fluttered over her incredible lips when she released the breath. “Where’s the bedroom?”
Once again, she’d caught him off guard. He frowned down at her. “You know it wouldn’t stop there. You aren’t the one-night-stand type.”
“No, I’m not,” she said quietly. Emotions shimmered in her velvety brown eyes. She’d do whatever it took for him to realize she cared.
Fists clenched, he began to speak. “My mother gave me away at birth. The couple who raised me used me as free labor, but never as their son. The man took every opportunity to tell me how worthless I was, how my wealthy mother didn’t want me. How I’d never amount to anything.”
Tears crested in her eyes again, but she blinked them away. She took his face in her hands. “You proved him wrong. You matter. People are alive today because of you. You matter, Cade.”
Her softly spoken words, the touch of her hand broke through the barrier he’d erected. He’d waited and wanted too long. His body burned. With desperation and desire he pulled her to him, his mouth fusing with hers. Pleasure swamped him. The taste, the feel, the warmth of her.
She came to him eagerly, fit perfectly in his arms. Her soft body molded against his. His tongue mated with hers, greedy to take and give. His hand cupped her hips, bringing her against the hardness of his lower body. She whimpered. His hand closed over her breast, felt the nipple push against his palm asking for his mouth. He picked her up.
“Cade,” she whispered, her voice unsteady with passion.
He stumbled to a halt, then tightly shut his eyes. She’d made him forget.
“Cade, what is it?”
He glanced down at her face, flushed with desire, her eyes so full of warmth that he wanted to curse whatever fate had shown him what it was to be truly wanted, then snatched it away. Forever wasn’t for him. He knew that was what Sabrina wanted, deserved. He wouldn’t crush her dreams as his had been crushed.
He set her on her feet, then quickly stepped away. “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.”
“Cade—”
“You should go.”
For a long time she simply stared at him, then she went to the sofa, picked up her handbag, continued to the door, and opened it. “I’m not sorry. See you at work.” The door closed behind her.
“Not if I can help it,” Cade murmured.
* * *
Sabrina was too jazzed to be sleepy at work. Later that morning sitting behind her desk, she wore a goofy smile on her face and didn’t care. Cade wanted her. She’d hoped and plotted, and it had happened. And it wasn’t just sex between them. If he hadn’t cared, he wouldn’t have stopped. She certainly wouldn’t have stopped him. She was falling in love with him. He needed her.
She jumped up from her desk at the knock on her door and rushed to open it. She hoped it was Kara so she could tell her what had happened, and get an update on her and Tristan.
Seeing Kara’s unsmiling face, worry replaced Sabrina’s happiness. Closing the door, Sabrina asked, “What can I do to help?”
Kara swallowed and told her about what her mother had done. “Mama is going to keep at me and make my life miserable.”
“You could tell her you’re an adult and to back off,” Sabrina suggested.
“She’d have a fit, tell me how ungrateful I am, how disrespectful, and make my life even more difficult.” Kara stuffed her hands into the pockets of her slacks. “Besides, Tristan won’t be around forever.”
Sabrina’s eyes narrowed. “You like him, don’t you?”
Kara opened her mouth, closed it, then threaded her fingers though her hair. “He’s made it no secret that he wants me, but he’s just as forceful when it comes to making me believe in my art.” She laughed. “My art. It’s because of him that I’m beginning to believe.”
“About time. So what happened on the pretend dinner date?” Sabrina asked.
“I met his ex-wife who apparently wants him back, went to a gallery opening, and almost melted when he kissed me,” she confessed.
Sabrina grinned. “I did melt when Cade kissed me. I forgot my own name.”
Kara’s eyes widened. “Dr. Mathis?”
“Has some incredible moves.” Sabrina loved and trusted Kara, but she wasn’t going to discuss Cade’s background. “He says it shouldn’t have happened, and he’ll probably try to avoid me. I’ll let him until Friday. He’s taking me to Clarissa’s birthday party Saturday afternoon.”
“I wish I could go after what I wanted without worrying about the consequences like you can,” Kara mused.
Sabrina placed a hand on Kara’s arm. “I’m not being pulled in three directions. You have your painting, Tristan, your mother. You can possibly have two happily in your life, but I’m not sure about all three.”
“I know.” Kara wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m going over to Tristan’s place tonight to start framing the pictures.”
“Lip-locking time,” Sabrina said.
“It will be strictly business,” Kara said.
“Only until you see him and then you’ll start thinking about the kiss, how it made you feel. You’ll want that again, and what your mother says or thinks won’t matter,” Sabrina predicted.
Unfolding her arms, Kara frowned at
her best friend. “Since when did you become an authority?”
“Since I saw Cade an hour ago from a distance. Just thinking about the kiss made my knees weak.” Sabrina’s eyes narrowed. “If he thinks he’s getting away from me, he better think again.”
“I’d wish you luck, but I’m not sure Dr. Mathis is the man for you,” Kara warned.
“I am. I just have to convince Cade.”
* * *
Kara stood on Tristan’s porch Wednesday evening and chewed on her bottom lip. Sabrina was wrong. Kara didn’t even have to see Tristan to think about the kiss, to want to feel his mouth on hers again. She rubbed her sweaty palm against her jean leg and rang the doorbell.
The door opened. Tristan stood there, looking gorgeous in a white T-shirt, sinful jeans that molded to his muscular thighs, and a smile that made her heart sigh. “Hi, come on in. Everything is ready.”
On trembling legs, she entered the house. “Hi,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the breathlessness in her voice.
“Did you get a chance to eat?” Tristan closed the door.
“Yes, thank you.” She would have never heard the end of it if she’d left without preparing dinner for her mother. Kara had been too nervous to eat.
“Great. You’re probably anxious to see the setup,” he told her. “I put everything in the same room. Come on.”
A bit off-balance, Kara followed him down the hall. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t the friendly businessman. She stepped ahead of him as he indicated the room with the paintings. Everything she needed to start framing was there. With the money he’d given her for the painting, she’d be able to repay him.
She turned to thank him and found herself in his arms, his hot mouth on hers. Thoughts of protesting vanished. She just enjoyed the slow glide of his tongue against hers, the lazy sweep of his hand down her back. He ravished her mouth. She returned the pleasure.
“I’m not going away. I’m not using you.”
She discovered she needed the kiss, the warmth of his body against hers. “I know that. It’s—”
He placed one long, elegant finger against her lips. “No. Just concentrate on what you want. What you feel is right.”
“That’s not always easy.” She bit her lip. “I’ve made mistakes.”
“If you’re talking relationships, I think we can agree that mine trumps yours.”
“We can also agree if I go along with you, we’d end up sleeping together.”
“Yep. There is that, but I also get you to believe, really believe, in yourself.”
Something bristled inside of her. “You think I’m a coward.”
“I think you care deeply and try to avoid confrontations,” he answered.
“A coward.” She pushed against him to free herself, and then went to the lengths of unfinished woods on a long table in the middle of the room. “I plan to start staining the woods this week and begin framing Monday.”
“I’ll let you get to it. I’m anxious to put up photos of the paintings on my blog,” he told her.
She glanced up. She thought nothing bothered him, but recalled hurting him in this very room. Yet, he’d accepted her apology and continued to help her. He was successful, sexy, and charming. He didn’t have to go to such lengths to get a woman into his bed. “Thank you. Again. I’ll frame the ones you liked first. Do you remember the ones Vera favored?”
He smiled and leaned against the doorjamb. “I do, but she’ll be here any minute so she can point them out.”
“Your mother is coming?”
“She insisted when I told her you were coming by.” He straightened. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
“All right.”
Tristan stared at Kara as she ran her hand lovingly over the length of wood for framing, and his body hardened. He wanted to feel her hands on him, his on her. He’d take his time stripping away the unflattering clothes until there was only bare tempting skin. But not now, not until she gained confidence in herself and trusted him completely.
Leaving, he started for his office, then changed direction at the sound of the doorbell. Opening the door, he smiled on seeing his mother. “You’re early.”
“You knew I would be,” Vera said, coming inside. “I saw Kara’s car so everything is going as planned.”
“Getting there,” he told her.
“Good,” Vera said, then, “Gizzelle called today and invited me out to dinner.” Vera wrinkled her nose. “As if I would. She upped the ante by asking me to redecorate her place.” Vera’s eyes flared. “It took everything not to hang up on her.”
“It’s over,” Tristan told her.
“She hurt you,” Vera said sharply, clearly not ready to forgive or forget.
He hugged his mother. She loved fiercely. No matter what, he could count on her. “She means nothing to me.” The only emotion she’d been able to elicit at the restaurant was anger when she had tried to talk down to Kara. “I’ve moved on.”
Vera glanced in the direction of the back room. “I believe you have.”
“Whoa.” He held up both hands. “We’re just getting to know each other while I help her with her paintings. She’s a special young woman.”
His mother lifted a perfectly shaped brow. “Hmm.”
“Vera, don’t get any ideas.” He didn’t like the way the conversation was going.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She tapped his chest with her clutch. “I’ll think I’ll go say hello.”
He caught her arm. “No matchmaking.”
With her free hand, she patted his face as if he were two instead of thirty-two. “You know I’ll always do what I feel is best for you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Laughing, she walked away.
Shaking his head, Tristan went to his office. He cared about Kara, wanted the best for her, but it wasn’t forever. He’d been down that slippery slope and wasn’t going again.
His ex had taught him that love wasn’t always forever, and when the woman you loved walked away with a smile on her face, it made you feel like you’d been run over by a semi. You felt like a fool for being so clueless, questioned yourself over and over why you hadn’t been good enough in bed and out. Never again! This time he was being smart.
Twelve
“Hi, Kara.”
Startled, Kara whirled around and saw Tristan’s mother and felt heat flush her face.
Frowning, Vera came farther into the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” Kara managed. It had been her own naughty thoughts about her son that was the problem. She moistened her dry lips. “Tristan said you were dropping by.”
“Oh,” Vera said.
For some reason her direct gaze made Kara nervous. “Y-yes. I’m staining the wood for the frames this week. I wanted to know which pictures you were interested in so I could frame them once I finished with the ones for Tristan.”
“All of them,” Vera said, then laughed at what Kara knew was her stunned expression. “I agree with my son, you’re very talented and a special young woman.”
Kara was stunned again, this time by what Vera had said. Tristan thought she was special. She tucked the words in her heart.
Stepping past Kara, Vera went to the paintings propped against the wall facing her. “There are several that would look fabulous in the spec house I’m decorating. You said Tristan has already picked out the ones he wants.”
“Yes,” Kara said. “He’s already hung one. The others are in his office.”
Vera nodded. “I don’t blame him. If I had room, I’d select a couple for my home. I still might.” She reached for a picture.
“No!” Kara snapped off her gloves and rushed over. “You point and I’ll do the rest.”
Vera wrinkled her nose. “Tristan is just being his overprotective self. I can lift the painting as well as you.”
“No disrespect, but I’ve seen too many patients back in the hos
pital or having prolonged therapy for not following orders,” Kara told her. “I don’t imagine you liked the restrictions your doctor imposed on you. You certainly don’t want the time extended or worse, to not get the optimum results from your surgery.”
“Pain doesn’t wake me up in the mornings anymore,” Vera said. She sighed and pointed. “That one, please.”
Kara picked up the paintings as Vera directed. By the time they finished, Vera had selected seventeen paintings.
“Can you have those ready in a couple of weeks?” Vera asked.
“I don’t…” Kara began, then said, “They’ll be ready.” This was her chance. Whatever it took, she’d have them matted and framed.
“Good. I have another appointment, so I’ll run and let you get back to work.”
Kara followed Tristan’s mother to the door. “Thank you for believing in me.”
“Thank Tristan,” Vera said.
“I have,” Kara told her. “He’s changed my life.”
Vera smiled. “You might have changed his as well. Good-bye, Kara.”
“Good-bye.” Puzzled by Vera’s last comment, Kara watched Vera walk down the hall to Tristan’s office, then dismissed it. She had work to do. Tristan and his mother were giving her a chance, but she had to do her part.
She picked up a cloth and a dark mahogany stain and began applying it to the wood. No more sinful thoughts about a man who was just passing through her life no matter how sexy he was, no matter how much she wondered what it would be like to kiss him again.
Two hours later, her back and neck in knots, Kara placed the stained molding on the table and pulled off her gloves. She’d made good progress. If she continued, she could possibly start framing next week since she didn’t need molding for all thirty-two pictures.
She started from the room, but took one last look back and then bumped into a solid wall of temptation. Air fluttered over her lips. “Tristan. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” His head descended.
She didn’t even make the effort to evade the kiss, not that he gave her a chance. His hungry mouth captured hers, taking her on an easy ride of pleasure. He made her body hum, want. She’d gotten her wish, and it was better than the first time.
