by Cindy Kirk
But even as Tim had considered the possibility, he knew it wouldn’t be fair to Jayne. People in Jackson Hole had already begun to think of them as a couple. How was Jayne ever going to meet someone special if she spent her free time with him?
So he hadn’t asked her, even when his own mother had weighed in on the issue. He was exceedingly glad he’d made that decision. Otherwise, he’d have disappointed her by being late. More important, he’d never have been able to ditch the party and take off with Cassidy.
A run in the mountains with a beautiful woman had been just what he’d needed after a precipitous delivery that could have had an unhappy outcome. And he’d be damned if he’d feel guilty about taking a few hours of R & R.
“Don’t you agree, Tim darling?”
He jerked his head up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cassidy stifle a grin.
“Ah, I missed the question.” Tim refused to apologize.
Any sane man’s mind would have wandered listening to her extol Jayne’s virtues after being forced to jump through a bunch of mental hoops to bring her up to speed on every facet of his past twenty-four hours.
“I said—” Paula’s smile remained on her face, but there was an almost imperceptible edge to her voice “—it’s quite impressive that Jayne was appointed to the Mayor’s Task Force on Truancy and Absenteeism.”
“I hadn’t heard that,” Tim murmured. “Yes, that is impressive. I understand why Tripp chose her. As a media specialist, she’s around students all day.”
“Dr. Mitzi McGregor is also part of the task force.” Confident she now had his full attention, Paula’s expression relaxed. “I’m not sure who’s the chair.”
“I am.”
The answer came from beside him.
Tim turned to Cassidy and smiled, delighted with the news. “You didn’t tell me.”
“Never had a chance.” Cassidy turned to Paula. “I don’t know Jayne all that well. This will be a good chance for us to get better acquainted.”
The other couple had already moved down to the edge of the lake. Emerson squeezed his wife’s shoulder. “I’ll keep our guests company. Don’t be too long.”
Paula narrowed her gaze.
“Do you really expect me to believe that you’re the chair of something so important?” The woman made a scoffing sound. “You didn’t even go to college.”
“Actually—” Cassidy’s voice remained level though her blue eyes had turned frosty “—I received my degree in business just last year.”
Paula sniffed. “One of those online schools, no doubt.”
“It was nice running into you and Emerson.” Tim’s tone was now as frosty as Cassidy’s eyes. “I believe it’s time you tend to your friends.”
The woman would have had to be deaf—or stupid—not to hear the dismissal in his tone. Paula Connors was many things; stupid wasn’t one of them.
“You’re right. I’m being a bad friend. Give your parents my regards.” Paula scurried off as fast as her Rockports could carry her, without a single backward glance.
“Good riddance,” Tim muttered.
“What do you want to bet she’ll be on the phone or texting your mother before we’re out of sight?” A mischievous glint danced in Cassidy’s eyes.
Tim laughed aloud, the tension from the past few minutes disappearing with the sound. He was barely aware of Paula turning with an assessing air. “That’s a bet I’d be destined to lose.”
“Matchmaking mamas.” Cassidy bent over and stretched, giving him a view of her exceptional backside. She heaved a melodramatic sigh. “What are ya gonna do?”
“Race you to the car.” He took off running. He grinned when he heard her footfalls but only increased his speed.
As they ran, the last of the tension eased from his shoulders and he realized that if he ever did have the time to date anyone, it wouldn’t be Jayne Connors.
No, if he had the time, the woman would be Cassidy Kaye.
* * *
Cassidy opened a bag of Oreo cookies and dumped some in a bowl before wandering over to where Tim sat, feet plopped on her battered coffee table.
Once they’d reached their vehicles, Cassidy had expected Tim to say no when she invited him over for a dinner of ramen noodle soup and beer. To her surprise, he’d accepted. He must have decided that, since he was already in the doghouse with mama bear, he might as well damn himself further.
When they’d arrived, she gave him a beer then told him to relax and put his feet up. He didn’t seem to understand she meant that literally, until she lifted his legs and put his feet on the scarred trunk that doubled as a coffee table in the cramped space.
He appeared to enjoy the soup: ramen noodles jazzed up with cabbage, carrots and cut-up chicken. Dessert, she assured him, wasn’t going to be so fancy.
Oreo cookies. Take ’em or leave ’em.
When she sat on the sofa and placed the bowl between them, he took one almost immediately.
“I haven’t had one of these in years,” he confided.
“Get out of here.”
His eyes widened.
“No, I mean, I can’t believe you could do without Oreos for so long.” Cassidy took one, opened it and let the tip of her tongue swirl around the white center.
His eyes went dark.
She resisted the urge to grin. As she gave the cookie one more swipe, she noted his gaze remained firmly fixed on her mouth. “In my house, Oreos are a staple.”
“I wish they were in mine.”
“What’s stopping you?”
He finished off one cookie and reached for another. “I have to set a good example for the girls.”
“Phooey.”
He lifted a brow. “Phooey?”
“You don’t have to enjoy them at every meal, although that’s how I roll.” She offered him an impish smile. “But what’s the harm in having a cookie for dessert or for a snack once a week? When you can’t have something, it can become too important to you later in life.”
Cassidy realized that was partly why she was so determined to live every day on her own terms.
“That’s a good point.” Tim picked up his bottle of beer and took a long pull. His gaze strayed to the wall clock that bore a distinct resemblance to a pepperoni pizza.
Cassidy inhaled sharply. Was he thinking of leaving? That she wouldn’t permit. The night was still young and the guy needed some R & R.
“Since you like horror flicks, I thought we could watch The Fly.” Cassidy kept her voice light knowing if she pressed too hard, he’d bolt. “If you need an extra inducement, I’ve got Jiffy Pop.”
His eyes lit up. “The kind you make on the stove top?”
She nodded.
“The Fly. Jiffy Pop. A beautiful woman.” Tim rubbed his chin then relaxed against the back of the soft sofa with the red, purple and yellow throw pillows. “I’m in.”
* * *
The Fly ended up to be just as creepy—and hilarious—as Tim remembered. During the course of the movie, he munched on popcorn and Oreos, drank the rest of his beer and got to know Cassidy a little better.
“Are you excited about the task force?” he asked, as the man on the screen began to take on fly-like features. Tim ignored the help me cries coming from the small television and focused on Cassidy.
She twirled her bottle of beer between her fingers and her gaze grew thoughtful. “I am. Truancy is a first step down a slippery slope. Kids get behind at school. They fail their classes and end up dropping out. There’s nothing waiting for them then other than a life of minimum-wage jobs and poverty.”
“It matters to you, what happens to those kids.” He could see it in her eyes, hear it in the passion in her voice.
“I grew up one wrong decision away from that kind of l
ife,” she told him quite seriously. “There were so many times I thought about taking off. Most of these kids are under tremendous pressures at home. School is the least of their concerns.”
“You persevered.”
“I wanted more. And, despite what my mom was always telling me, I believed I deserved more.” She clenched the hand holding the ice-cold beer to her heart and did her best Scarlett O’Hara impression. “As God is my witness, I will be a success.”
Admiration rose inside him for that long-ago girl, for the woman who’d fought so many demons and come out on top.
Without thinking he took the beer from her fingers and placed it on a side table, along with the bowl of cookies, and tugged her to him. “Tripp couldn’t have picked a better person to chair that task force.”
She winked. “That’s what I told him.”
Tim laughed, pressed a kiss against her hair. “You’re a special woman, Cassidy Kaye.”
She gazed into his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re only just realizing that?”
He brushed a strand of hair back from her face and found it as soft as silk. “I guess I’m a slow learner.”
She wound her arms around his neck and met his gaze. “You have any questions, just ask me. I’m a good teacher.”
Their gazes locked. The air took on the consistency of thick whipped cream.
“Are you looking for something serious?” he asked in a quiet tone after an impossibly long moment.
“I’m not.” Cassidy kept her gaze steady and lied.
“I don’t have any protection.” He stopped and gave an embarrassed laugh. “Forgive me. I take too much for granted. I just assumed—”
“You assumed correctly.” She would not apologize for wanting him, for needing him tonight. On whatever terms. “I have condoms.”
No need to tell him that she’d picked up the box before their Old West Days date. Just in case...
Tim gazed at her beautiful face, at the wide mouth usually tipped in a smile. How he wanted her beneath him.
He hadn’t made love since Caro died. He’d thought the desire for a woman’s touch had died with his wife. But now, feeling Cassidy’s body pressed against him and his own response to her closeness told him every part of him was very much alive.
She slipped her hands under his shirt, gripping the edges of the fabric with her fingers, and tugged it upward. “How about we get more—”
Cassidy inhaled sharply.
His hands were on her skin, sliding up her sides toward her aching breasts, the tips of his fingers leaving a wake of heat wherever they touched. The clasp of her bra opened easily and her breasts spilled into his waiting palms.
When his thumbs scraped across the aching tips of her nipples, she went wet.
Forget Oreos. This was the best dessert ever.
He pushed her shirt out of the way and lowered his head. His breath fanned her skin as his tongue circled her...
The jarring ring from the phone he’d placed on the trunk had Tim jerking back.
“Let it go to voice mail,” Cassidy urged, leaning forward, her tongue sliding up his neck.
He was tempted. Very tempted. But in his practice, they delivered their own babies while they were in town.
“Can’t.” Swearing softly under his breath, he reached for his phone and clicked on. “Dr. Duggan.”
“Tim.”
He briefly closed his eyes, bit back a groan. He should have paid attention to the ringtone. “Yes, Mom.”
“You sound different. Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. How are the girls?”
“They’re wonderful. They loved the wedding, but they’re missing their daddy.”
“Something came up.” Deliberately he kept his response brief. Past experience told him, give his mother an inch, she’d take the whole damn ball field.
“Paula called me. She told me—”
“Is there a point to this call, Mother?”
There was a long pause on the other end. “You’re with her now, aren’t you?”
“I’ll pick up the twins from Sunday school tomorrow as we planned—” he began, determined to get off the phone as quickly as possible.
“No,” his mother continued, speaking quickly as if fearing he might end the call. “You need to pick them up now.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
“Why?”
“Your father isn’t feeling well. I think he might be coming down with something,” she said in a hurried tone. “I think it best you pick them up right now so we can go to bed.”
“What symptoms is Dad having?” Tim straightened on the sofa. Though his voice came out cool and composed, this was his father. His heart slammed against his ribs.
As if sensing the growing tension, Cassidy sat back. Concern replaced passion in her blue eyes.
“Any chest pain? Have you taken his blood pressure? Checked his pulse?” He fired off the questions.
Last year his father had developed an irregular heart rhythm, the cause of which no cardiologist had been able to pin down despite extensive testing. They’d put him on some medications and he’d appeared to be doing well.
Until tonight.
“No chest pain and his blood pressure is fine,” Suzanne reassured him. “I believe he’s simply tired. I think he overdid it with the yard work this afternoon. And keeping track of two high-spirited girls at a reception when you’re sixty years old is no easy task.”
The well-aimed zinger hit the target. But hadn’t his mother insisted she wanted to take the girls? Show them off? Still, he had promised to be there.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The weight of responsibility had never been so heavy. “I’ll be right there.”
“Good.”
Ignoring the satisfaction in his mother’s voice, Tim said goodbye and hung up.
Giving Cassidy’s shoulder a squeeze, he stood up. “I need to go.”
She fastened her bra, adjusted her shirt before slowly pulling to her feet. “Is your dad okay?”
“I think so.” Warmed by her concern, he brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Sounds like he just overdid it today. But I’ll check him out when I pick up the girls.”
Her brows pulled together. “I thought they were spending the night.”
“I did, too.” He shrugged, knowing he needed to go, but strangely reluctant to leave her. “Plans apparently have changed.”
“Happens all the time,” she said with a rueful smile, then grabbed his face and planted a hard kiss on his lips. She took a step back and expelled a heavy sigh. “Now, get out of here before I decide to lock the door and not play nice.”
Chapter Seven
“Tim said something about you not feeling well.” Lindsey Taylor, Tim’s younger sister, shoved a bowl of whipped potatoes into his hands and glanced worriedly at their father.
“Just my knee.” Steve Duggan gave a dismissive wave. “Couple of ibuprofen and I was as good as new.”
On the drive over to his parents’ home last night, Tim had begun to wonder if his father’s health was simply a ruse designed to get him out of Cassidy’s “lair” and back where his mother thought he belonged.
His suspicions were confirmed when his father had met him at the door. When Tim had asked how he felt, his dad had laughed ruefully and said he was fine. Other than that the knee he’d injured skiing years ago was sore after so much dancing.
His mother hadn’t bothered to look apologetic. When she’d blithely told him the twins could stay the night after all, Tim had been so angry he hadn’t replied. Instead, he’d grabbed the girls’ overnight bags. Ignoring their howls of protest, he had taken them home.
Though sorely tempted to skip Sunday dinner with the
family, Tim knew Lindsey and Zach would be there. His sister and her husband had been in Denver seeing friends. All week Esther and Ellyn had been looking forward to seeing their aunt and uncle.
For that reason alone, Tim had put aside his irritation over his mother’s connivance.
“How was the wedding?” Zach took the bowl of whipped potatoes from Tim. “We’d hoped to get back for it, but the plane had mechanical issues. We didn’t get in until after eleven.”
“I’ve told Lindsey many times she needs to schedule flights earlier in the—”
“I made the reservations.” Zach didn’t wait for Suzanne to finish. “Taking an earlier flight didn’t work with our schedule.”
Tim silently applauded his brother-in-law. His mother faced a formidable adversary in the high school football coach. Zach was fiercely protective of his wife. He’d set the tone from the beginning, making it clear to Suzanne that he wouldn’t tolerate her disparaging Lindsey.
His mother opened her mouth, appeared to think better of whatever she’d been about to say and closed it without speaking.
“Thanks for bringing the corn salad, Aunt Lindsey.” Ellyn gave her aunt a gap-toothed smile. “I told Daddy I hoped, I hoped, I hoped, you’d bring it today.”
“It’s my favorite.” Esther picked a Fritos chip off the top of hers and popped it into her mouth.
“Mine, too,” Ellyn echoed.
Tim’s heart swelled with love as his gaze settled on his daughters’ sweet faces. Then he winced. This morning the girls had begged him to put their hair in pigtails. Though Tim had given it his best shot, he noticed he hadn’t quite gotten them even.
His mother took a sip of her iced tea and, obviously sensing the conversation about flight scheduling was a dead end, refocused on Tim.
Before she even opened her mouth, Tim saw where she was headed. His gaze met hers. Don’t go there, he silently warned.
“Did your brother tell you he spent last evening with Cassidy Kaye?” Suzanne tossed out the comment then daintily began buttering a sourdough bun.