by Cindy Kirk
“If you’re asking me for dress code recommendations, I’d say clothing is optional.”
Though it was usually hot and heavy at the beginning of any relationship, something about this thing between her and Cade felt different. Every time he looked at her she felt the impact all the way to the tips of her toes. But it was more than sex, though the passion between them was, well, off the charts. No, something about him quieted the clamor in her head. She could fully relax when she was around him.
The thought that in a short time she’d be gone, and what they shared would be over, had her heart stuttering. “Remember, I’m only here temporarily.”
“I’m well aware of that fact.” He simply stared at her for a long moment, his eyes boring into hers. “Yet I can’t think of a single reason not to fully enjoy the time you’re here.”
The flicker of challenge in his voice had Marigold’s pulse going crazy. “Are you suggesting a fling?”
He hesitated, as a man might before a plunge off the side of a mountain. “I’m suggesting we date. Sex may be a part of it . . . or not. Your choice.”
Marigold tapped a finger against her lips. “You want to . . . date . . . even knowing I won’t be staying?”
“Who knows.” His mouth relaxed in a slight smile. “You might—”
“There’s no might.” She stepped back, out of reach. “I will be leaving, more likely sooner than later.”
“I’m fine with the here and now, Marigold.”
Perhaps it was the firmness in that deep tone or the steadiness of his gaze that reassured her they really did understand each other. Cade wouldn’t expect more than she was able to give.
He could have any single woman in town. Look at Katie Ruth. The woman practically salivated whenever Cade stepped into the room. And Marigold would have to have been blind not to have noticed all the women eying him at Ami’s party. “Other than I’m fabulous, new in town, and somewhat of a novelty, why me?”
“Who else knows so much about dachshunds?”
Marigold snorted out a laugh.
Cade grasped the hand she’d pulled away and brought it to his lips. With his eyes still locked on hers, he bent his head to brush a kiss against her knuckles. “I realize we both have a lot on our plates, but you know what they say about all work and no play . . .”
“I certainly wouldn’t want to be considered a dull dog.” Marigold liked Cade’s sense of humor and easy manner. For reasons she didn’t want to explore too deeply, being around him centered her.
“People will think we’re a couple.” Marigold thought of Katie Ruth and her gossip column.
“We are a couple.” Those cool gray eyes pinned her, daring her to disagree.
The firm ground beneath her feet began to shake. Was he saying he wanted to be exclusive? Though the thought made her uneasy, she was even more uncomfortable with the thought of him dating other women. “Are you willing to forego dates with Katie Ruth?”
“I believe the more relevant question is—are you willing to forego lunches with Travis?”
“You know how much I like dessert.”
He nodded, a wary look in his eyes.
She smiled up at him. “I wasn’t even tempted.”
“Good to know.” He brushed his mouth against hers, a brief touch that somehow seemed wildly erotic. “Ready to head to your apartment and fuel up?”
Marigold moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Are we talking pizza or dessert?”
“That’s your choice.” This time Cade grinned, full-out. “Me, I’m extra fond of dessert.”
“This has to stop.” Marigold pulled the silk sheet up over her breasts, then flopped back, her head returning to the shared pillow.
“You’ll have to be more specific.” Cade snaked an arm around her and tugged her close. “The blood in my head is currently occupied elsewhere.”
“Seriously?” She arched a brow. “You could do it again?”
“What can I say?” He nuzzled her neck. “I’m a glutton for dessert.”
She laughed. “I’m pretty fond of it, myself.”
“Then why does it have to stop?” His tone was light, but those smoky gray eyes were puzzled.
“It feels too good.”
Those strong fingers that had caused her to cry out only minutes earlier slid up her arm, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. “Are you saying if it feels good, it has to end?”
“Everything good ends.” The second the words left her mouth, Marigold wished she could call them back.
She waited for Cade to murmur reassurance, perhaps offer a platitude, the kind of thing her mother used to say when things didn’t go as she planned.
Her mother.
A familiar tightness fisted around Marigold’s heart, making her eyes sting and breathing difficult. She hadn’t been there when her mother had passed, hadn’t been able to tell her how much her love and support had meant, hadn’t been there to hold her hand and say good-bye.
“Tell me,” he urged.
“What?”
“Tell me,” he repeated, running his palms lightly up and down her arms.
Marigold supposed she could have shoved his hands away or hopped out of bed. But Cade was so warm, and the gentle stroking on her arm compelled her to pause and reconsider. “I don’t understand what you want me to say.”
“I want to know who left you.” His voice, low and smooth, invited confidences. “Who—or what—made you believe if something feels good, it will end?”
“Everyone knows that.” She shifted her eyes from his penetrating gaze. “It’s, like, Self-Preservation 101.”
“Tell me about your last relationship.”
Marigold nearly sighed with relief when she realized he’d assumed she’d been thinking of Jason. Though her pain over the end of that relationship was so miniscule when compared to the loss of her mother, that still didn’t mean she wanted to rehash it. It was over and done and played no part in the here and now.
“Tell me,” he pressed.
“Maybe I don’t feel comfortable sharing my past with you.” Only when the words had left her lips did Marigold realize how strange such a remark sounded. Especially taking into account their current positions and the intimacy of the past hour.
“If that’s how you really feel, Goldilocks,” Cade gave a lock of her hair a tug, “we shouldn’t be sharing much of anything, especially dessert.”
When he pushed up, she grabbed his arm. Encountering resistance, she tightened her hold.
“That came out wrong. It’s not how I feel.” She ignored the sudden ache in her chest. “I mean, not exactly. It’s hard.”
“What’s hard?”
“Talking about past failures.”
“He hurt you.”
She started to deny it, then decided everyone, including the great Marigold Bloom, was allowed one foolish mistake. “Yes.”
Cade tapped her arm with his fist. “If he was here, I’d punch him.”
“If he was here, I’d punch him myself.” Marigold shook off the irritation that always surfaced when she thought of Jason. She’d wasted too much time and energy on the hotshot attorney. She held out a hand and studied the brightly painted nails and smooth skin. “On second thought, he wouldn’t be worth the skinned knuckles.”
Beside her, Cade chuckled, a low, pleasant, rumbling sound.
“I’m not in the mood for pizza,” she announced. “I’ll heat up the stew. If you’re still curious after we eat, I’ll bare my soul.”
Before she could rise, Cade leaned over and kissed her with a sweetness that had her heart turning soft and heavy in her chest. When he pulled her close, Marigold rested her head against his chest and let herself relax. Only when her stomach growled did she slip from the bed.
Her sister’s ancient chenille robe, soft against her bare skin, provided needed warmth. She snagged a silky man’s robe—likely belonging to Beck—and tossed it to Cade.
She supposed they could get dressed, but it woul
d be horribly inconvenient if they decided they wanted another helping of dessert. While Marigold doubted that would happen, it seemed prudent to leave the option open.
After placing two bowls of leftover beef stew in the microwave, she set the table with two daisy placemats and a couple of napkins. They ate at the dinette table for two in the kitchen with the canary-yellow walls.
Ami likely would have served the dish with some homemade crusty bread or a bowl of pretty, cut-up fruit. Since Marigold didn’t have either, she settled for pouring them each a glass of wine.
As if sensing her desire not to get into anything too heavy while they ate, Cade kept the conversation focused on the weather. A quick glance out the window told Marigold the day that had been remarkably sunny had turned dreary. A brisk wind from the north swirled the falling snow into mini cyclones.
Marigold considered brewing a pot of coffee, but before she could rise and pull out the ancient silver percolator Ami had given her, Cade reached across the table.
He turned over her hand, appearing to study the hot-pink nails she’d painted last night.
“You have strong hands.” His thumb stroked her palm, making her breath catch. “There’s such talent in these fingers.”
Marigold recalled how he’d groaned when she touched him. She smiled. “I like the feel of your muscles, the way they ripple under my hands.”
“I like that, too.” His thumb continued to stroke. “You know, ever since we hooked up at my cousin’s wedding, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
She swallowed to moisten a mouth that had gone bone-dry. “Really?”
Cade nodded. “I’ve followed your career. Read all the online articles. You’re a force in the industry, Ms. Bloom. A top-notch hairstylist.”
The compliment was a balm to her tattered spirit. Deftly, Marigold slipped her hand from his, finding it impossible to think clearly when he was touching her. “Jason didn’t think so.”
Cade merely raised a brow.
“Though he was proud of the success I’d achieved, he never fully appreciated how important it was for me to reach the top of my field.” While all that was true, Marigold also knew she’d held back, never letting him get too close.
“How long were you together?”
“Nearly a year.” Marigold thought back to that time, to the months when life held endless possibilities. She was not only making a name for herself, she had a handsome, successful boyfriend. “Jason was a corporate in-house attorney for a multinational corporation. He was a big deal in Chicago legal circles.”
“A long time to date and not know someone.”
“I knew him,” she protested.
“He didn’t know you.” Cade twisted the stem of the wineglass between his thumb and forefinger, his gaze steady on her face. “He didn’t appreciate your talent or realize what your career meant to you.”
Marigold shrugged.
“Did you love him?”
“I thought I did.” Be honest, Marigold told herself. Don’t sugarcoat or gloss. “Looking back, I think it wasn’t each other we loved, but the shine.”
At his perplexed look, she smiled. “We looked good together. We loved being seen in each other’s company. Loved the spotlight.”
Jason had liked showing her off as much as she liked being seen with him. Then why did such a smart and sophisticated arrangement sound rather pathetic when said aloud?
“Did the shine wear off? Is that what happened?”
Marigold blinked.
“Why did you break up?” Cade prompted, his voice low and husky.
“Things came to a head when Jason was approached about making a move to the firm’s New Orleans office.” Marigold puffed out her cheeks. “He asked me to marry him.”
Cade brought the glass to his lips and took a sip. “A proposal does tend to bring things to a head.”
“I considered it,” she admitted. “I dreaded the thought of rebuilding a client list from the ground up, but New Orleans is a cool city. If I made the sacrifice, I decided he’d have to understand we’d be putting down roots there. I didn’t want to relocate only to have to do it all over again in four or five years.”
“Sounds fair. What did he say to that?”
“Nothing.” Marigold sighed. “I couldn’t get in a word. He just kept talking about this fabulous opportunity he’d been given. I assumed he was nervous and wanted to lay it all out first. Long story short, he made it clear that for him to achieve his goal of full partner, my career of ‘cutting hair’ would have to take a backseat.”
“He said that?”
Gray eyes that had been dove soft only moments before were now hard as steel.
Marigold tried to recall if Jason had spoken those exact words. “No, but as he talked, it became obvious he considered his career to be the more important one. In the end, neither of us was willing to compromise.”
Cade said nothing.
“The discussion, if you could call it that,” Marigold gave a little laugh, “was a watershed moment for me. As Jason continued to stress why the move was such a great thing for him, it hit me that no one will care about my career—or my happiness—as much as I do. I decided that from then on I will go—or I will stay—where it’s best for me.”
Cade’s expression gave nothing away. “Sounds as if you’ve given the matter a lot of thought.”
Marigold nodded. To combat the unexpected wave of sadness washing over her, she smiled broadly and raised her glass in a toast. “Here’s to coming to your senses just in time.”
Cade lifted his glass. “To happiness.”
“Now that you’ve heard all my deep, dark secrets, tell me about your ex.” Marigold set her glass on the table, a speculative gleam in those baby blues.
Cade bought himself a little time by taking another drink of wine. He should have seen this coming, been prepared. It was, after all, a classic case of quid pro quo.
Despite knowing he owed her details, Cade considered several diversionary tactics, including kissing her senseless. While not specifically mentioned in the Marine Corps manual, he thought it stood a good chance of success . . . and he knew he’d enjoy every second of the maneuver.
“I don’t know what you’re planning, Sheriff, but it won’t work.” The light, teasing tone was at odds with the determined glint in her eyes. “C’mon. It’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty.”
Cade preferred not to think about the abrupt end to his two-year relationship. Not simply because he suspected a large part of what went wrong was his fault, but because after the first few months, he hadn’t missed Alice. It appeared he and Marigold had something else in common. What they’d each thought was love, wasn’t.
He decided if he was required to tell this story, he’d keep it short and sweet. “Alice broke our engagement because of what she ultimately saw as my failure to communicate.”
Marigold’s blue eyes narrowed. “What did she think you should have communicated but didn’t?”
He gave a snort. “Want a laundry list?”
The last time they’d been together, Alice had ranted. He hadn’t realized she harbored so much resentment. Even little things, like forgetting to mention his parents’ upcoming wedding anniversary, were tossed into the mix.
Marigold waved a slender hand. “I don’t need a complete list. Just the incident that pushed her over the edge.”
“What makes you think there was an incident?”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s always an incident.”
Cade considered how much to divulge. Then he realized there was no longer any reason for secrecy. Not for something that had been front-page news.
“I discovered several officers in my unit had failed to log into evidence money and drugs seized during searches of homes. I turned them into Internal Affairs. Alice knew a couple of them pretty well. She felt I should have discussed the situation with her before reporting them.” Cade’s anger spiked, just as it had when Alice confronted him. Not jus
t anger at her, but at the men—and women—who’d betrayed their badges.
Shoving his chair back, Cade strode to the window and attempted to find calm in the swirling snow outside.
Frustrated, overcome with memories of that ugly time, he whirled and flung out his hands. “For God’s sake, what was there to discuss? What could I do but turn them in? I had no choice. They were dirty.”
Cade turned back to the window. He didn’t move, not even when he heard Marigold’s chair slide back, not even when her arms slipped around his waist.
“I agree. You had no choice.”
The tension eased from his shoulders but his fingers continued to grip the sill. “A couple of them were friends.”
“Which must have made reporting them extra hard.” Her voice, smooth as Kentucky bourbon, soothed.
He was silent for a long time, then finally nodded.
She clasped her hands together even as her gaze remained firmly focused on him. “What happened to them?”
“They were indicted for stealing drugs and money obtained in police searches, convicted, and sent to prison.” His voice, flat and hollow, seemed to come from far away.
“What about the blue line?”
He grit his teeth. How many times had Alice brought up the blue line? Too many times to count. “It breaks for dirty cops.”
“I bet not everyone saw it that way.” Her voice remained soft and low.
His unseeing gaze stayed focused on the windowpane.
“So you came here, to Good Hope.”
“I wasn’t running.” He pivoted to face her. “I deliberately sought out the position here. I wanted to live in Good Hope.”
“Why?” Marigold appeared genuinely perplexed.
He hesitated, finding it difficult to explain something he didn’t fully understand himself. Finding no other options, he leaned back against the sill and went with the truth.
“When I was here for my cousin’s wedding, I fell in love with Good Hope, with the people, with the area.” He shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed by the admission. “I had friends tell me taking a job as a small-town sheriff was a step down. I don’t agree. I believe I’m exactly where I’m meant to be and doing what I’m meant to do.”