Her cries grew in pitch, becoming more shrill with each gasping breath she took. Clint didn’t think it was a cry of pain, and it was obvious by the way she avoided the bottle that it wasn’t a cry of hunger. So what was the matter with her?
Clint stood and began to pace, gently jiggling Kathryn up and down in his arms. Maybe she had a gas bubble or something like that. Her cries tore through him and filled him with worry. He didn’t want her to cry. He wished that every day of her life, every moment of her existence, would be full of sunshine and laughter.
The door to his bedroom eased open, and Sherry appeared in the doorway. He started to give her a smile of relief, but when he saw the look in her eyes, relief fled, replaced by a stronger emotion.
In the instant she opened the door, her gaze swept the length of him, and a deep rosy hue stained her cheeks. Clint was suddenly aware of the fact that he stood before her, clad only in a pair of boxers.
The squalling baby in his arms did little to defend him against the rise of heat that began in his toes and worked its way up his body.
“I’m sorry…. I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me,” she said, her voice huskier than usual. “Having problems?” Her gaze studiously darted from one side to the other of him, never actually looking at him.
“She won’t stop crying,” he said. Even though he knew on an intellectual level that his boxers covered him as effectively as a bathing suit, on an emotional level the intimacy of her in her nightgown and silky robe and him in his boxers was not only working on his brain, but also on other parts of him.
Before he completely embarrassed himself, he held Kathryn out to her. “Maybe you can make her stop.”
She took the baby from him, still not making eye contact with him. “You go on back to bed. You have to go to work in the morning. I’ll take care of her.” Without waiting for his reply, she turned and left the room.
Clint remained motionless for a long moment, waiting for his nerves, his heartbeat, his emotions to return to normal. But normalcy seemed alien to his body.
On shaky legs, he forced himself across the room to turn out the light, then crawled back into bed—a bed that suddenly felt far too cold, far too big for a single person.
He wanted Sherry. The knowledge hit him with the force of a blow to the abdomen. He’d wanted her years ago, and as impossible as it seemed, he wanted her more now.
He drew in a deep breath and allowed it to seep out of him on a wistful sigh. Nothing had changed since that time in the past when Sherry had told him she didn’t want to marry him, didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with him.
Turning over on his side, he realized the house had fallen silent. He could no longer hear Kathryn’s wails. Apparently Sherry had worked some kind of magic and managed to soothe her.
Somehow he had a feeling Sherry wouldn’t be willing to do the same for him. She wouldn’t be willing to work some magic and ease the longing for her that filled his very soul.
Chapter Five
A fternoon sunlight danced through the living room curtains, carrying a pleasant warmth that increased Sherry’s drowsiness. She was stretched out on the sofa, legs propped up to hold a magazine she’d been thumbing through. But her thoughts weren’t on the magazine articles. She was consumed by thoughts of Clint.
Seeing him the night before in nothing but those sexy boxers had unsettled her, evoking fantasies she had no business entertaining—fantasies of her body and his, naked beneath crisp sheets, moving together in perfect unison. Sweet fantasies of his lips on hers, stealing her breath with greedy kisses, his hands stroking the length of her body as he took complete and utter possession of her.
She shook her head to dislodge such nonsense and focused instead on thoughts of the little girl napping in Clint’s bedroom.
The night before, the moment she’d taken Kathryn from Clint, the little girl had calmed down and snuggled against her. Sherry suspected she missed her mommy, and Sherry’s feminine touch seemed to ease the ache of her mother’s absence.
Sherry got back into bed, with Kathryn cradled in her arms. Almost instantly Kathryn fell asleep, leaving Sherry to stare at the darkness and fight her overwhelming desire for Clint.
Where had this desire come from? She’d thought she’d long ago ridden herself of any wanting of Clint. Had it only been dormant inside her, waiting for the right circumstances to make it flare up with renewed energy?
She knew better than to follow through on the desire. Nothing but heartache could come from making love to Clint. She had no future with him and making love to him would only be a temporary sort of thing at best.
She’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep. Kathryn remained sleeping peacefully in the crook of her arm through the night and awakened Sherry that morning by grasping her nose.
Closing her eyes, Sherry thought about what she’d told Clint the evening before. She’d lied when she said her life was full and happy. It wasn’t. She found no pleasure in working at Walt’s tavern. She hated the hours and dreaded dealing with the rowdy cowboys. She came home after working, exhausted, feet aching, but with no true fulfillment.
Maybe it was time for a change. She frowned thoughtfully. But what? What kind of changes did she want to make?
Not working at the bar these past couple of days had made her realize it was time to alter her life, but she wasn’t sure exactly where to begin.
When she’d been told by the doctor she would never have children, she’d run from her job as a teacher to avoid being around children. She’d been trying to mitigate her grief, and instead had only punished herself.
She still wasn’t certain that she’d be able to handle being around children all the time, but she knew for certain it was time to give Walt her notice, time for her to explore other employment options.
Frowning, she opened her eyes. An odd, barely discernible noise broke the silence of the house. She sat up and swung her legs to the floor. Nothing. She heard nothing.
She looked out the front window. Perhaps what she’d heard was a tree branch scratching against the side of the house. Her frown deepened. It couldn’t be a branch blowing. Not a breath of a breeze stirred the trees.
Again the noise came…like fingernails scraping down a wall.
She stood and tilted her head to one side, attempting to identify exactly where the noise originated. Kathryn. Maybe she’d awakened from her nap and had found something to play with in her crib.
Sherry tiptoed down the hallway, pausing as she came to Clint’s closed bedroom door. She shoved the door open and stepped into the room. For a moment the scene before her didn’t connect in her brain. Kathryn was asleep, her bottom sticking up and her thumb in her mouth.
Behind the crib the screen on the window had been cut and was hanging. The window, which had been closed when Sherry had put Kathryn down for her nap, was now open a little more than an inch.
Sheer horror riveted her as she recognized the implications. Her initial inertia broke, and she ran to the crib and scooped up Kathryn in her arms. Ignoring Kathryn’s startled cries, she slammed the window and locked it, then hurried to the front door and made sure it was securely locked.
Adrenaline still pumping, she raced into the kitchen, checked the back door to make certain it was locked, then grabbed the phone and punched in the number for the sheriff’s office.
Clint answered, and at the sound of his calm, deep voice Sherry burst into tears.
“Sherry? What’s wrong?” he asked urgently.
“Somebody tried to break in,” she cried. “Kathryn was napping, and somebody cut the screen in your bedroom.”
“What…slow down,” he replied.
“Please…come home, Clint. Come home now.”
He didn’t reply, and it took only a moment for Sherry to realize he’d hung up. She replaced the receiver and clutched Kathryn close to her breasts.
Somebody had tried to break into the house. Why? And of all the rooms in the house, why had they chosen th
e one where Kathryn was sleeping, and why the window right behind her crib?
The implications terrified her. “Shh,” she said softly, trying to comfort the baby, who apparently sensed Sherry’s tension…her fear.
Sherry moved to the front door and peered outside. It was a beautiful spring day. Nothing looked amiss. No shadowy figures crept along the sidewalk, no car with darkly tinted windows cruised slowly past the house. And yet Sherry knew that out there was somebody who’d wanted in, somebody who’d wanted Kathryn.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the distant wail of a siren. It sounded odd…the high pitched sound splitting the tranquility of the day. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard a siren in Armordale.
A loud screech of tires signaled Clint’s arrival. Sherry unlocked the front door and met him on the porch, the tears she’d thought under control once again flowing.
“Your bedroom—” She gulped, trying to get breath to tell him what had happened. “Somebody tried to break in through your bedroom window.”
Clint’s features were drawn taut and he looked more dangerous than she’d ever seen him. He pulled his gun from his holster. “Go inside and lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone except me,” he instructed.
He didn’t have to tell her twice. She went back into the house, locked the door, then stood in the center of the living room. She alternated between patting Kathryn’s back and swiping her own tears, which refused to stop flowing.
Kathryn’s chubby little fingers curled into the cotton material of Sherry’s blouse, and her sweet blue eyes gazed up at Sherry in complete and utter trust.
Sherry hugged Kathryn against her, felt the stir of maternal love well up inside her. The emotion, so rich, so pure, momentarily awed her. She’d never thought she’d feel this way.
She’d never thought she would experience loving a child to such depths, knowing she’d do whatever it took to protect the child from harm. She’d believed because she was barren that she was also devoid of any maternal instincts. But that wasn’t true.
Following the awe came the grief. She loved Kathryn. In the short span of time she’d been with the little girl, Kathryn had managed to firmly wedge her way into Sherry’s heart. But somewhere Kathryn had a mommy of her own, and Sherry knew her love for the child could only lead her into more heartache.
She jumped as knuckles rapped on the front door. “Sherry, it’s me.” Clint’s voice rang out loud and clear.
She hurried to the door and unlocked it to admit him. “Did you see anyone?”
He shook his head and holstered his gun, a grim expression on his face. “Nobody. Although it’s obvious somebody tried to get in through my bedroom window.” He ran a hand through his hair and stared at Kathryn thoughtfully. “If you were going to break into a house to rob it, would you choose a window next to where a baby slept?”
“It depends upon whether you want to rob the house or steal the baby.” Sherry spoke the words she knew they were both thinking. At the same time she tightened her grip on Kathryn, who fussed in protest and kicked to get down.
Clint’s eyes darkened, and once again he looked more dangerous than Sherry had ever seen. “If this is Candy’s idea of a game, I swear when I find her I’ll wring her neck.” The tension in his face ebbed slightly. “Here, I’ll take her.”
He took the wiggling baby from her arms, kissed Kathryn soundly on the forehead, then placed her on the floor and handed her a set of plastic keys that had been resting on the coffee table.
As Kathryn occupied herself cooing to the brightly colored keys, Clint took Sherry by the arm and led her to the sofa. He sank onto the cushion and pulled her down next to him.
She went willingly into the embrace he offered, needing his strong arms around her, needing the strength of his body to make her feel safe. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face into the fresh-scented cotton of his shirt.
“I was so scared,” she whispered. “I opened the bedroom door and saw the screen all cut up…. If I’d waited another minute or two, Kathryn might not have been in her crib.” She shuddered as a wave of horror once again swept through her.
Clint tightened his arms around her. “But you didn’t wait that extra minute or two, and everything is all right. Kathryn is fine. Thank God both of you are safe and sound.” He stroked a hand through her hair, then trailed a thumb down the side of her face. “Sherry.” He spoke her name softly and she looked up at him.
Instantly her breath caught in her chest. He was going to kiss her. She knew it. His intention shone from his eyes, unmistakable and definite. And she had no intention of stopping him. Instead she stretched upward, giving his mouth easier access to her own.
He dipped his head and touched his lips to hers. Soft and gentle, it was a tentative kiss that instantly sparked flames inside her. Her heartbeat quickened, her pulse raced, and she opened her mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
A shudder swept through his body as his tongue swirled and danced with hers. Flames of desire roared throughout her as she pressed her body more closely against his and lost herself to the internal fire his kiss stoked.
The kiss might have lasted seconds or it might have lingered for half an eternity. Sherry lost all track of time and space, of presence and self, as his mouth continued to drink from hers.
His hands moved up and down her back, pressing her breasts more firmly against his chest. She loved the feel of his solid muscles against her feminine softness.
She wanted him to hold her forever, kiss her forever. She wanted him to slowly remove her clothing and teach her about making love.
Instead he broke the kiss and abruptly stood. He moved away from the sofa before Sherry had fully registered his withdrawal from her. “I’ve got to take care of that window in the bedroom,” he said, his voice deeper than usual.
Sherry nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Not trusting that she wouldn’t beg him to come back to her, hold her through the night, make love to her until dawn crept across the sky.
As he left the house, Sherry stood on trembling legs and drew in a deep breath. She’d momentarily lost her mind. That was the only way to explain what had just occurred between them. Temporary insanity times two. They’d both lost their minds.
Their emotions, heightened by the near break-in and the sense of imminent danger, had transformed into something even more dangerous. She was grateful he’d pulled away before the momentum had become too intense to halt.
She couldn’t allow such a thing to happen again. She turned and looked at Kathryn, who was happily playing with the plastic keys. She could survive the loss of Kathryn, knew the time would come when the baby would no longer be a part of her life.
But she wasn’t at all sure she could survive a breakup if she fooled herself into believing she and Clint had any sort of future together. She knew the truth. There was no future for Clint with her, and she would do well to remember that.
Clint poked through the miscellaneous items in the garage, seeking a hammer and nails, trying to remember the last time he’d used either. He’d already located a large piece of plywood that would cover the bedroom window. He would board it up, and if somebody tried to get through it again, they’d have to use a chain saw.
Spying the hammer and a coffee can filled with a variety of nails, he grabbed the two items, then carried them and the plywood to the back of the house.
As he eyed the torn screen, his blood chilled and his anger rose. He was the sheriff in this town, and it seemed incredible that anyone would actually attempt to break into his home. The stakes must have been high.
Kathryn. It seemed reasonable to believe that whoever had tried to get in had been after the little girl. But why? The note that had come with Kathryn had spoken of danger. But what kind of danger? None of it made any sense.
He hefted the plywood into place and began to hammer in nails. He hoped Stan would be able to find Candy. This whole scenario smelled of her manipulation and
penchant for high drama. He’d contacted Stan that morning and given him everything he knew about Candy. Hopefully Stan would have some information for him on her whereabouts in the next day or two.
Candy. He didn’t know why he’d gotten involved with the woman in the first place. He’d known from the start she wasn’t his type. But for the month and a half that they’d dated, she’d filled up the lonely silences in his life—the ones he’d suffered since the breakup with Sherry.
Sherry. Her name exploded in his head as he remembered the hot, eager kiss they’d shared. He began pounding in nails, using more force than necessary, hoping the expenditure of energy would somehow cause his desire for her to ebb.
He finished nailing up the plywood but was reluctant to go back inside. The lingering warmth of Sherry’s kiss on his mouth made him feel vulnerable, off center.
He needed a little more time, a little space to ground himself in reality. And the reality was that Sherry was a friend, a good, valued one, but just a friend nevertheless.
He walked around the house twice more, seeking signs or clues that might help them figure out exactly what was going on, why somebody had tried to break in. But he found nothing.
The neighbors on either side were no help. The house to the left of his had nobody home. The house on the right was occupied by an elderly couple who had seen nothing and nobody suspicious.
Finally, feeling as if his wayward emotions were back in control, he went into the house. Sherry and Kathryn were in the kitchen, Sherry making coffee and Kathryn in her car seat center stage on the oak table.
“Terrific, I could use a cup of coffee,” Clint said as he sat at the table. Kathryn cast him a drooling, sunshiny smile and Clint’s heart expanded with love. Whoever was after her would have to come through him to get her. And that wasn’t going to happen.
At this moment, as she grinned at him, he had no doubt at all that she was his. She had blue eyes, as did he. He even thought he saw a hint of his own square chin in her baby one.
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