His-And-Hers Family

by Winn, Bonnie K.

  Blake bent his head, placing his lips on the tender flesh of her neck. Her answering sigh was almost a shudder. He felt the firm yet soft press of her breasts, then moved his hands downward, pulling her hips close to his.

  Now barely moving, they swayed to the distant music. Lifting his head, Blake met her eyes, saw caution mixed with desire and a lick of fear. He chose to ignore all but the desire. His mouth, a whisper away from hers, teased her beguiling lips, and he watched her eyes darken in response.

  Knowing he was crossing an irretrievable barrier, Blake paused for a fleeting fraction of time, then moved forward, knowing only that he wanted to taste, to explore. He wanted to push her boundaries, peel back the layers of disguise she hid behind. Gone was the knowledge that she was his children’s nanny, his employee. In its place, there was simply hunger.

  Her lips were soft, yet not yielding, pressed into a firm line of defense. He traced their outline softly, persuasively, then ran one finger down the seductive line from her fragile collarbones to the dip of her provocative neckline. Her mouth opened in a gasp, and he took swift advantage, touching his lips to hers, then gently exploring the tender recesses. She stiffened immediately, pulling back for an instant before limply joining his embrace. He felt her fingers reach around his neck, then thread through his hair, before moving down to his shoulders. Rewarded by her response, no longer reluctant, but eager, Blake emboldened his advances.

  Unable to resist, he drew his hands down her sides, then cupped her full breasts, eliciting a gasp as her fingers tightened convulsively on his shoulders. Even as she leaned toward him, he sensed a change, a sudden resistance that had her pulling away in the next instant.

  Her face was flushed, her lips were still ripe and full from their kisses, and the gray of her eyes had deepened to dusky pewter, yet she was shaking her head. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  Blake didn’t expect the quick stab of pain that her words caused.

  “But it did,” he reminded her, refusing to relinquish her gaze.

  “It can’t happen again,” she insisted.

  His brows rose, doubting he’d heard her right. “It can’t?”

  “No, it can’t.” She stepped away shakily, and he watched her struggling to regain control. “And we have to forget it ever happened at all.”

  Blake didn’t plan to make it easy for her. “You might pretend that you don’t want it to happen again. But do you really think you can forget?”

  The quick darkening in her eyes told him she couldn’t. No more than he.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cassie pounded the flour-dusted breadboard, taking out her frustrations on the defenseless mound of dough. Since the moment it ended, she’d resolutely told herself to forget the kiss she’d shared with Blake. And she’d done nothing but think of it ever since. If she allowed herself, she could even feel the brush of his lips, his deepening kiss, his oh-so-clever hands, the way she’d swayed into his arms as though someone had softened all her bones.

  And that someone was Blake...her employer, her children’s chance for a bright future. She’d risked that future by indulging herself, by learning that she hadn’t been wrong about his appeal, about the strength of his embrace, or about the powerful pull of the man himself.

  And he’d been right, damn him. She couldn’t forget what had passed between them. Couldn’t stop wishing it could have continued. Couldn’t prevent herself regretting that she would never be able to turn back the hands of time, for the outcome to be so very different. For her choices to be ones that might include him. She’d fallen too fast once before. Look what that had gotten her.

  “Mama, isn’t that about ready?” Katherine Ann asked, watching as her mother nearly destroyed the dough.

  Cassie released her death grip on the bread and pushed back a stray lock of hair. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She passed the dough over to Katherine Ann, who shaped it carefully into a loaf.

  They both started when Blake’s study door slammed suddenly. They glanced at each other and then Blake as he stormed into the kitchen.

  “Problem?” Cassie asked, hoping none of her earlier thoughts were transparent.

  “You could say that.” He held up two fingers scarcely an inch apart. “With the McCutchen deal this close, the whole thing could go out the window.”

  “Why?”

  “Because McCutchen is a family man, and he wants a nice respectable dinner, complete with wives, before he leaves town. The way he’s dithered on this deal, I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulls out.”

  Cassie hesitated. “Doesn’t he know—”

  “That I’m widowed? Yes, he told me to bring the nice young woman he’s sure I’m seeing.”

  “A date?”

  “Yes. And the dates I’ve had lately wouldn’t exactly fit McCutchen’s standards.”

  Cassie felt a fist of jealousy stab her as she imagined the beautiful women Blake had dated.

  “One could, Mr. Matthews,” Katherine Ann put in shyly.

  Both Cassie and Blake stared at her blankly.

  “You could take Mama. She’s respectable.”

  Cassie decided she should have a hole drilled in the floor of the kitchen for just such occasions. Then she could disappear at will. But Blake was looking anything but dismayed.

  Katherine Ann abandoned the bread and turned to her mother excitedly. “And you’ve got that new dress you bought at the sale to wear to my school program.”

  “I hardly think Mr. Matthews—”

  “Tell me more about this dress.”

  Since Cassie was staring at him, openmouthed, Katherine Ann complied. “It’s navy blue velvet, and she looks beautiful in it. She almost wore it to the school dance, but she said it was too fancy.”

  Remind me to begin drilling that hole tomorrow morning.

  “Well, Cassie, are you going to bail me out, be my ‘respectable’ date for the evening?”

  “I’m sure you had someone else in mind,” she said evasively.

  His eyes met hers, telegraphing the heat they’d shared, which neither of them had forgotten. “I think you know what I had in mind.”

  Blushing, Cassie buried her face behind the huge sack of bread flour. Oh, do I ever.

  “Does this mean you’re going, Mama?” Katherine Ann asked, her adolescent enthusiasm filling the kitchen.

  “You wouldn’t desert me in my hour of need, would you?” Blake glanced pointedly at his watch. “And before you remind me about the bread you’re baking and the million other excuses you’re going to dream up, it’s several hours till we have to be there. And I imagine Kevin wouldn’t mind being in charge for a change.”

  Cassie met twin pairs of inquiring eyes and knew she was defeated. Thank God she was supposed to be respectable tonight.

  BUT AS SHE STUDIED HERSELF in the mirror, the dress didn’t seem as respectable as she’d remembered. True, it was cut simply, but had it always clung so? And while the high neckline was certainly modest, the dress dipped to a vee at her back, exposing a considerable expanse of skin. And with her hair swept up, there was no hiding the revealing back.

  A little desperately, she reached into her closet, flipping through the sparse selection. Other than her one “good” church dress, which was over ten years old and covered everything from her chin to her toes, nothing was even passable. Now, even her “funeral” dress was inappropriate. She reached for the dowdy but respectable church dress just as someone knocked on her door.

  “Come in,” she muttered from inside the closet.

  The door opened a fraction. “Cassie? Are you ready?”

  She stepped out of the closet. “Not quite. I need to change. I don’t think I’d better wear this.”

  The door opened a bit wider, and Blake stuck his head inside. Realizing she was dressed, he pulled the door open and strode inside. “Why not? You look great.”

  She spun around self-consciously, showing him the back of the dress. “I doubt your Mr. M
cCutchen would approve.”

  “I approve.”

  She reached up to unfasten the hair clip. “Maybe with my hair down—”

  His hand stopped hers. “Leave it.”

  “But—”

  “Leave it.”

  She met his eyes and felt her throat go dry. Remembering his hands touching her, her nipples hardened in response, and a weakness flooded her.

  “Mama? Are you ready? I want to see before you leave.”

  Blake stepped discreetly away, so that he stood at the edge of the doorway, while Cassie remained in front of her mirror.

  “Oh, hi, Mr. Matthews.”

  “Blake,” he corrected.

  As he spoke, Katherine Ann glanced across the room. “Mama! You look beautiful!” She all but clapped her hands as she walked toward her mother. “Doesn’t she, Mr. Ma—Blake?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, she does.”

  Cassie glanced downward. “Thank you. Well, I guess we should be going.”

  “Katherine Ann...” Blake said, nudging her.

  The young girl could hardly contain her excitement as she pulled a package from behind her back. “This is for you, Mama.”

  Surprised, Cassie stared at the box, which was embossed with the distinctive emblem from an impressive and equally expensive store. “What’s this?”

  “Mr.—Blake and I went shopping,” she announced importantly.

  “Katherine Ann was kind enough to be my shopping consultant,” he added.

  Carefully Cassie peeled away the layers of tissue paper, revealing an exquisite shell-shaped evening bag of navy velvet with a jeweled clasp. “The color’s perfect,” she exclaimed. “You two are wonderful shoppers.”

  “There’s more,” Katherine Ann interjected excitedly. “Keep looking.”

  Cassie peeled away more tissue paper. Her hands stilled before reaching out to stroke delicate lace crochet. Lifting out the garment, she couldn’t prevent a gasp of appreciation as a navy evening shawl shot with silver threads was revealed. She’d never owned anything so frivolous, yet so delightful. “I can’t possibly accept this. It must have cost—”

  “You needed the right accessories. Since I pressed you into going tonight, it’s only fair that I provide them,” Blake interrupted.

  “Oh, and there’s one more,” Katherine Ann blurted out, dashing to the hallway and returning just as quickly.

  It was easy to recognize the next box. Guessing it contained matching shoes, she wasn’t disappointed. Especially when she opened the box and found that they were strappy, sexy slingbacks. Unlike all the practical shoes she owned, these could never double for anything other than evening wear.

  Feeling much like a fairy princess, she wondered whether this would all disappear in a puff of smoke. Having spent years hustling simply to make sure the children had school clothes, she hadn’t even allowed herself to dream of such luxuries. Ridiculously, she felt a lump in her throat.

  Blake gently grasped her elbow. “I think it’s time for us to go. We don’t want to be late.”

  Cassie gave him a tremulous smile. “Do I look okay?”

  “No, Cassie, you don’t.” Before clouds could scuttle the happiness in her eyes, he smiled. “You look beautiful.”

  CASSIE GRASPED HER PURSE with nervous hands, hoping she could pull off the evening and not embarrass Blake. Daphne’s earlier words still echoed in her mind, despite Blake’s assurances to the contrary. He has an image to maintain. What will his business associates think if he’s seen with his children’s nanny?

  Yet he acted as though he was proud to be with her. She’d never seen in his eyes a fraction of the disdain that dominated Daphne’s. Who should she believe?

  Blake leaned toward her. “McCutchen is already here. Ready to face the firing squad?”

  Gulping, she nodded. With his hand on her elbow, she felt more grounded. McCutchen, a stem-looking, hefty man, rose as they approached. On closer examination, Cassie could see that his heft was all muscle. A former football player, she guessed. East Texas was filled with men like him—conservative, ofttimes religious jocks. It was a type she was familiar with. If his first two names were Billy Joe, he could hail from Twin Corners.

  She also knew instinctively this was not the time to trot out any of her newly learned sophistication, what little of it there was. Nor would he be a man to appreciate assertiveness. When introduced to him, instead of extending her hand, she smiled instead. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. McCutchen.” She chose her words with caution, careful not to address him by his first name.

  He introduced his wife, and Cassie again did not use a first name, sensing that these were people steeped so deeply in stiff, conservative tradition they were practically in body casts.

  And the evening was off to a smashing start. Although the McCutchens hailed from the Midwest, their small hometown might have been a replica of Twin Corners. After talking community, family and high school sports—he’d been the captain of his high school football team—McCutchen had mellowed at least one hundred and eighty degrees. No longer quite so stern, he acted as though he’d finally encountered some of his own type of people.

  “I don’t know why you were hiding this little lady,” McCutchen admonished Blake. “She’s a deal maker.”

  Although Cassie smiled demurely, she felt her lips twitch. If only McCutchen knew.

  But he was leaning toward her. “You know, Cassie, I was about ready to ditch all these L.A. types. Don’t know who to trust in this glitter pit. Nice to meet some real people in old Tinseltown.”

  Cassie saw that Blake was gritting his teeth. “I don’t really think you can judge people by the places they live in,” she said tactfully, “While I love my hometown, I can’t honestly vouch for every person who lives there.”

  McCutchen’s initial frown eased. “I suppose so, but I’d weigh the population of Springfield against L.A. any day.”

  Cassie smiled diplomatically. “I don’t believe you finished that story about your team taking state in your senior year.”

  As McCutchen launched into the boring tale, Blake shot her a grateful, if exasperated, glance. And Cassie let out a sigh of relief.

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE he actually told that story four times,” Blake moaned as they left the dining room and the McCutchens. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a sinful shot of something stronger than coffee.” He guided them into the nearly empty bar. It was late and only two other people sat in the quiet, semidark room. “You deserve something extra for tonight. You name it—a bonus, an Oscar, diamonds. No matter what you pick, you’ll come out shortchanged.”

  Cassie smiled. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  Blake rolled his eyes. “Deliver me from sanctimonious, pompous...” He stopped himself before completing the description, censoring the remainder. “You amaze me. How did you know just the way to play him? I’m guessing he was ready to pull out and you saved the deal.”

  She waved aside the compliment. “He’s no different than half the men in Twin Corners. True, he lucked on to something that made money.” She shrugged. “Other than that, he’s stuck in that same small-town mentality, endlessly reliving high school, settling into a safe, sel-frighteous attitude, shutting himself away from the rest of the world, convinced there’s nothing there to explore.”

  Blake reached out a hand. “Unlike you. There’s a whole world waiting for you.”

  Regretfully she shook her head. “We all make our choices.”

  “And what were yours, Cassie?” He hesitated, but he had to know. “The ones that still haunt you?”

  While a familiar shadow crossed her face, this time she didn’t pull away. “The past is just that, Blake. There’s no point resurrecting it. And nothing will change by reliving it. I believe wise people just let it die.”

  “Or let it out, so that it doesn’t prey on them.”

  Cassie smiled—that sad smile that tore at him. Whatever it was that was bothering her, he wanted to fix it, to p
rotect her, to release her from its hold so that she could soar. No matter what secret she was hiding, instinctively Blake knew he wouldn’t hold it against her. He’d seen glimpses of her potential, and now he wanted her completely free, unburdened by the past. He wasn’t certain when that had become so important to him.

  When she had become so important, he realized with a start.

  He gestured toward the small band playing a soft song at the head of the bar, then held out his hand. “How about a reprieve?”

  Nodding, she accepted his hand, easily slipping into his arms as he led them around the dance floor. Protectiveness battled with desire as he circled her body and pulled it close.

  He hadn’t wanted to rattle her earlier by telling her just how provocative her “simple” dress was. But then, most women couldn’t have made it look the way Cassie did.

  The music hadn’t slowed, yet their movements had. A seductive swaying that had nothing to do with the song that was playing, only with the heat that built between them. Disregarding the other lone couple in the room, Blake cupped her head in his hands, pulled her mouth toward his.

  Cassie made a token protest, but the sound turned quickly into a murmur of pleasure.

  This time, she was all soft and yielding, encouraging him to deepen the kiss, clutching him with what seemed strangely like desperation. And her need drew him, sending off signals that made him want to protect and cherish her. Even as he acknowledged that she had become far too important to him, he wanted more.

  Each taste, each nuance of flavor, intoxicated him. Despite the fire raging between them, he knew this wasn’t a hunger that a simple coupling could ease. He sensed that, if anything, their union would forge even stronger bonds between them.

  He’d been running from those bonds since he lost Elizabeth, and now he was willingly stepping into their hold. Because Cassie had laid claim to his heart.

  Knowing that, he allowed those frozen regions to thaw, accepting the rightness of her claim. Deepening the kiss, he tried to wordlessly convey his feelings to Cassie.