by Judy Duarte
The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. The children ran about in seeming disorder, but soon sorted themselves into lines in front of their classrooms, then marched in with their teachers.
Sara put the past out of her mind and finished her teaching duties. She ended the day by having the children dance around the classroom in time to a lively tune, then she and the twenty students straightened up the room in preparation for the next day.
“Stacy, you’ll walk home with me,” she told the youngster when the final bell rang. “Tai’s mom got sick and Tai will have to stay with her for a couple of weeks.”
Stacy smiled happily. “I like being with you. And Tai,” she added, loyal to her sitter.
“You’re a very likable person to be with, too,” Sara said. “Shall we plan dinner for your father tonight since Tai won’t be there to start it?”
“Let’s have spaghetti. That’s his favorite food.”
Sara gave a little skeptical snort. “I think I know whose favorite it is,” she said as Stacy skipped along beside her.
Stacy pressed a hand over her mouth and giggled.
At the town house, they worked together and soon the spicy sauce was bubbling in the pan. While it simmered, the two weeded the front flower beds, not that they needed much work. The mysterious Mr. Lee—Sara had never seen him—kept the grounds in tip-top shape.
That’s where Cade found them when he arrived at six o’clock.
After the usual hug, swing and nose-rubbing with his daughter, he turned to Sara. His stare was so intent, she became flustered and dropped the small bunch of grass sprouts they’d pulled from among the flowers.
“We cooked dinner,” Stacy told him.
“Where’s Tai?” he asked Sara.
“Her mommy’s sick,” Stacy answered. “Tai has to stay with her ’cause she had a op’ration.”
“An operation,” he corrected.
“Mommy wanted Daddy to have one, but he got mad,” Stacy said to Sara. The child gazed earnestly at her father. “Sara and I could stay with you if you had one,” she volunteered.
Before Sara could quite figure out the implications, Cade abruptly set the girl on her feet, unlocked the door and disappeared inside with her. His face had turned an interesting shade of red.
Sara felt her own face heat up as she sorted through the conversation. While working together last week, Rachel had told Sara all she’d read about Cade’s wife. The woman had been an ardent partygoer. It didn’t take a strong leap to imagine her not wanting more children…or that she’d wanted Cade to do something about it.
Had he?
Going inside, she prepared the pasta and salad and rolls, then studied the ebony table with its perfect finish. She’d never used it.
Getting a colorful tablecloth from her belongings, she went onto the deck and spread it over the patio table there. With the table set and the food ready to bring out, she wondered what to do next.
Feeling embarrassed and more than a little foolish, she knocked on Cade’s back door.
He answered in less than a minute. He’d changed to jeans and a blue chambray shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the buttons not yet fastened down the front.
His chest was lightly sprinkled with dark hair. His skin was tanned. She wondered when he spent time outside to acquire it. He wasn’t a brawny man, but he looked strong and fit, with a whipcord leanness to him that spoke of latent energy, ready to be unleashed on a second’s notice.
Unexpected hunger uncoiled and flooded her with intense longing. She hadn’t felt passion in so long it took a moment to realize fully what it was.
She wanted this man. She wanted his arms around her. She wanted to feel his warmth, his intimate touch. She wanted to caress him, to explore his masculine flesh with her hands…with her body…
“Yes?” he said.
Sara hesitated at his tone—not exactly cold, but not exactly friendly, either. “Uh, did Stacy tell you we prepared dinner?”
“Yes. I was just about to call and see if the invitation was still open.”
“Of course.” She dredged up a smile. “I don’t want to eat leftover spaghetti for the next six nights.”
His answering smile was forced. “I’ll get Stace. We’ll be over in a minute.”
“I, uh, thought we would eat on the deck.”
“Great. We’ll be right out.”
Sara retreated, leaving her door open so they could come inside if they wished. Her fingers trembled slightly as she removed crisp sourdough bread from the oven and placed it in a cloth-lined basket. She made a nest for the sauce in the center of the pasta, which she’d placed on a platter with a high rim.
“I’ll take that,” Cade said, coming to the door. He removed the platter from her hand.
“Thanks. Stace, if you’ll put these rolls on the table, I’ll get drinks. Milk or iced tea?”
“Tea for me, milk for the young lady,” Cade said.
Since it was early, the air hadn’t cooled to the point of being chilly. The temperature was a pleasant seventy-two degrees. With the irrepressible Stacy there to bridge any awkward pauses, the tension between Sara and Cade eased and the evening became quite cheerful.
“So, did both of you enjoy your first day of school?” he asked when they were seated.
The two females gave him a thorough review of their day while the shadows lengthened and the sun hid behind the fog bank on the horizon. They finished the meal, but lingered at the table and talked.
“There’ll be no flash tonight,” Cade told them, gazing at the horizon.
Sara thought he looked wistful, but in the next instant, as his eyes met hers, she decided she was wrong. She’d been aware of his gaze on her several times during the meal, but his thoughts had been too obscure to read. Now he merely looked amused and somehow distant.
Not that they’d ever been close, except as children in school together, she mused, her senses keenly aware of him and his physical presence, the innate masculinity that called to something equally strong but feminine in her.
After eating, they all pitched in to clean up the dishes, then Cade and Stacy went to their place so the child could get ready for bed. Sara draped a sweater over her shoulders and returned to the deck.
Twilight deepened into night, and still she lingered. No mosquitoes came out to annoy her. Few sounds from the street penetrated back here. It didn’t even feel as if she were in a city.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Cade asked from his doorway an hour later.
“Yes, that would be nice.”
He joined her on the deck and handed her a glass of wine, which was red and mellow, holding only a hint of tannin from the oak barrel in which it had been aged.
“Very good,” she murmured after taking a sip.
“An eight-year-old Cabernet,” he told her. “It won the blue ribbon in a recent international competition.”
“You should have saved it for a special occasion.”
“I think this is special enough. A fine dinner and interesting conversation, two beautiful women to share the evening—what more could a man want?”
The cheer sounded somewhat forced, but his voice had deepened. It flowed over her with the same dark complexities as the wine, a subtle weaving of spicy flavors that spoke of other pleasures to come—
She stopped the train of thought with an effort. She couldn’t afford to think like that. Rising, she stood by the railing and stared out toward the sea.
Ships were visible as lights that rose and dipped with the movement of the sea. They struck her as unbearably lonely as they sailed off into the night.
But she knew the loneliness was in herself. She swallowed the painful knot in her throat when Cade came over and stood beside her.
“I used to watch the ships when I was a kid,” he said. “I wanted to go on a grand adventure with the sailors, a modern-day Jason on the trail of the golden fleece.”
She heard and understood the undertone of sadness when h
e chuckled at his boyish ideas. It reached down into her own heart and opened places she’d thought were closed forever.
“We all have dreams,” she said in hardly more than a whisper. “And we all have to grow up.”
“Some more quickly than others. You, I think.”
“And you,” she murmured.
“Perhaps,” he said.
She knew a lot about his life now and wondered if he was thinking of his mother, who’d been sent away to a very private hospital, it was rumored, for the mentally ill. Mark Banning had told them this news.
“When your mother was sent away?” she asked.
He was silent for a long moment. “Yes. It was like the sun went out.”
His voice was so low she had to strain to hear. “Do…do you ever see her?”
“No. My father thinks it would serve no purpose. She has the best of care and, according to him, she wouldn’t be interested in any of her children anyway.”
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t deny the compassion she felt for him and his loss.
“Into every life…” He shrugged philosophically.
“Some rain must fall,” she finished when he stopped.
His smile appeared, a beacon in the dark. “We’re getting awfully serious, young Sara.”
“I don’t feel young. I haven’t for a long time.”
He touched her shoulder. Warmth flowed from his hand all the way to the center of her. Without meaning to, she leaned into him when he stepped closer. He slipped both arms around her, clasping his hands over her tummy and tucking her against his body.
For some reason, it made her ache inside, as if her heart were weeping. She laid her hands over his. They stayed that way for a long time, not speaking as they watched a few stars appear.
“Without the glare of city lights,” he said, “you can see a million stars. At the ranch, the only way to tell the ocean from the night sky is to note where the stars begin.”
“You have a ranch?”
“Yes. I plan to go up Friday night. Stace and I would like to have you join us.”
“I may have work to do,” she hedged, wanting to go but not sure if she should. When she glanced up, he lowered his head and gently touched her lips with his.
“Sara,” he said, his voice soft, husky.
A tremor rushed over her. He tightened his hold, then stepped to the side, turning her at the same time. They faced each other, their expressions solemn, their eyes questioning. She wondered if his doubts were the same as hers. At the moment, it didn’t matter.
Slowly she raised her hands and caressed along his shirtfront. “Warm, so warm,” she said.
“Burning up,” he admitted.
Cade cupped her face in his hands and sipped from her lips as if he’d found a rare and perfect wine, a nectar of incredible sweetness stolen from the gods. And like all mortals who dared the fates, he knew he would pay…someday…somehow….
He groaned as need pushed aside the dire musing. He took her mouth in a kiss of fire, of insatiable passion. He needed more from her.
“Have to touch you,” he said in half apology, half anticipation.
“Yes. Oh, yes.” Sara wanted nothing between them—no clothing, no second thoughts, no past filled with hatred and regret. She pushed her hands under his shirt and caressed his back.
The muscles flexed beneath her fingers, hinting at raw power kept under tight control. She wanted to experience that power for herself, to feel it against her…in her.
She turned her head and sighed shakily. “This is…we shouldn’t…It’s so…unwise.”
“I know,” he whispered, his mouth hot on her neck just below her ear. “Stop me. If you can.” Cade chuckled ruefully, knowing she was as caught up in the moment as he was. Something primitive and wild flashed through his blood, driving out sanity in the face of this terrible need. For her. For this woman.
“Come. We need to go inside,” he said, feeling her tremble again. He held his breath as he turned them toward her door.
“Stacy,” she said.
“I have the monitor on. With the doors open, we’ll hear if she calls out.” He guided her inside.
Sara felt the sofa touch the back of her knees. She tossed the sweater on a chair and kicked off her shoes when Cade did. He enclosed her in a warm embrace and together they sank onto the cushions.
Their bodies meshed as if they’d done this a thousand times. They stretched out on the supple leather—thighs locked, chests and abdomens touching, hands reaching, searching beneath the barriers of their clothing until they could touch living flesh.
“Your skin is as smooth as flower petals,” he murmured as he imprinted kisses over her face.
“So is yours,” she said just as ardently, completely entranced by the growing intimacy.
His low laughter delighted her, and she laughed, too. It felt natural and reassuring.
“I need more,” he said.
She let him unfasten the buttons on her blouse, helped shed it and the bra, then waited, her heart surging like a storm-driven tide, as he unfastened his shirt and wrapped her in it so that skin nestled against skin.
“You’re burning me up,” he told her, his mouth stirring her to madness as he kissed along her neck, then drew back enough to lave her peaked breasts with his tongue until she gasped and moaned with hunger.
Arching slightly, she moved against him, feeling the enticing hardness against her tummy. He clasped her thigh in one hand and positioned it over his hip.
“Oh,” she cried softly as sensation whirled through her at the greater contact. She only had to press slightly to experience even more.
He moved with her, their breathing shallow and rapid as the flames danced and leaped through their entwined bodies.
“Cade,” she whispered. “You must…you must come to me….”
“I want to,” he assured her. “But I didn’t expect this. I didn’t prepare for it.” He caught her hand when she tugged at his jeans, then pressed her palm against his chest. “No more. I don’t have protection.”
She bit into her bottom lip as disappointment hit. “You, uh, the operation…”
“A vasectomy was Rita’s idea. I never had one.” He gazed into her eyes. “Unless you’re protected, we have to stop…now.”
A tangle of questions wrapped around them, buzzed like angry bees between them as they contemplated each other solemnly. His smile was unexpected—a rueful acknowledgment of their predicament.
“Okay, let’s quit while we’re ahead,” he said.
He swung up and away from her. The night air from the open door swept over her, chilling the ardor to embers but not quite putting the fire out. She sighed.
“Me, too,” he said. He leaned down and kissed her lightly, picked up his shoes and departed.
Sara wrapped her sweater around her shivering body. Sitting there in the dark, she went over the events of the evening. There had been such strange undercurrents between them. And then the passion.
She’d never known a man like Cade. Gentle. Caring. A wonderful father. There was something deeply honorable about him. She felt it in her bones. She should tell him why she’d come to San Francisco. Before he found out in a different way. Like when the police came to arrest his father.
“Complexities,” she said aloud and sighed again.
Chapter Five
Two nights later, the ring of the doorbell startled Sara as she sat in the den and tried to read a long novel about a rich family and their problems.
She personally thought it would do the fictional characters good to take on a poor family’s problems and see how life felt when there wasn’t enough money to buy one’s way out of difficulty.
Rising, she went to the front door. It was too late for Stacy to be up and she assumed Cade would use the back door since the den was in the rear of the house. That left Tyler to be calling at nine-thirty in the evening.
She was right. Flicking off the dead bolt, she opened the elegant portal and invi
ted him in. “Did you just get off work?” she asked, seeing his suit.
“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his face after entering the town house. “Got anything to eat?”
“Ham-and-cheese sandwich or omelette?”
“Omelette. Three eggs. I’m starved.”
After locking the door, she led the way into the kitchen. “Don’t they let police detectives eat in this city?” she asked with a sympathetic glance.
“Not if they can help it.” His smile was weary.
She prepared a large omelette and poured it into a skillet. While it cooked, she dropped an English muffin into the toaster, considered, then added one for herself. In a few minutes, she handed Tyler a tray with his food and carried one for herself with the toasted muffin, strawberry jam and a glass of milk on it.
They ate in the den with the trays across their laps. “So what’s happening?” she demanded when her brother remained stubbornly silent.
He roused from his introspection. “Trouble.”
The hair prickled on the back of her neck. “What kind of trouble?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know.” He finished off the omelette and the last drink of milk. “Got any coffee?”
“I’ll make you a latte.” She prepared the steamed milk and coffee, did one for herself, then returned. “Help yourself,” she said dryly, noting that he had devoured the other half of her muffin and jam and was swallowing the last of her milk.
“Sorry. I was still hungry.”
She handed him the steaming mug and settled onto the sofa again. “Has Mark Banning found our dear uncle?”
Tyler shook his head. “Someone tried to hack into my computer, though, and set up a worm to send everything I had on file to a third computer.”
Alarm spread through Sara. “Who?”
“I couldn’t trace ’em. They covered their tracks well.”
“Did they find out anything about our quest?”
“No. Fortunately I use a separate drive for all Internet searches and then check it for viruses and worms after each session on the Net. That’s when I discovered someone was trying to implant a tracking program on me.”
“We haven’t tried to hide,” she reminded him. “We use our real names. Do you think Walter Parks had anything to do with the hacker?”
