by Beverly Bird
Cait felt her heart spasm as she got into the car. “That sounds so nice.”
Nice? He thought of the fistfights over first dibs for the bathroom. The absolute brawls over only two legs per turkey. He didn’t answer until he pulled away from the curb. “You’ll meet them someday.” Where the hell had that come from? he thought. He continued quickly. “I don’t like a quiet house. Houdini keeps my condo lively.”
“Did you have him when you were married?”
His gaze cut to her as he drove. “That’s right, I forgot. You met Nancy.”
She nodded. “What went wrong with your marriage?” She was immediately mortified by the question. It was none of her business. She couldn’t let herself care.
“Houdini,” he said complacently.
“Then I can’t blame her for leaving you. He’s awful.”
Sam laughed, then he took a hand from the wheel to scrub the smile from his mouth. He decided to answer honestly. “I left her,” he said finally. “I got bored. After that happened, I was afraid that if I stayed married, I’d end up like my parents.”
She frowned. “What’s wrong with your parents?”
“They’re bored,” he repeated.
Cait frowned as though she couldn’t understand the concept.
“With themselves. With life,” he explained. He pulled into her driveway and stopped the car, then he put the transmission in neutral and pulled up the emergency break. “I never want to be like that.”
“Sam, you take life by storm.”
“Or it tackles me, I’m not sure which.”
Suddenly Cait saw the truth in his eyes. She saw shadows move there. “Sam, you can’t seriously blame yourself for what happened to us with Hines.”
For a heartbeat she didn’t think he would answer. Then he looked away out his window. “Let’s put it this way. Jared Cross managed to get Melanie and the others away from Hines. Jake White got us free.”
“Tabitha did that. Although poor Billy will never be the same for it.”
“Jake saved us and Tabitha Monroe.”
“Why would you think that?” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “You are such a man.”
“Yeah, I am. And you do something to me, Cait. I’m not sure what it is or even if I like it, but you do. And it eats at me that I let you down.”
Things inside her started to stiffen. Other parts of her started to soften. “What are you saying?”
“That it has to be resolved before it drives me out of my mind.”
“It’s over now. Behind us.” But she thought again of someone having been in her apartment today. Was it over?
“I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about us.”
She saw him leaning closer to her, almost in slow motion. Like the first time he had kissed her. She’d stared at him then, too, mesmerized, not really believing he would do it. She didn’t believe he was going to do it now, either.
But he did. His mouth found hers.
And it was all the same. The fierce, ready heat that gathered inside her, almost hurting. The sensation that she had been waiting for this moment all her life. The gentle skim of his mouth over hers, the warmth of the contact, made something happen to her. Her head fell back a little and she opened to him.
Then his hands were in her hair, on both sides of her head, holding her still for the sweetest assault she could imagine. His mouth closed over hers, harder and more intent. His tongue dipped past her teeth, and something wild and hungry reared inside her, something that had her fisting the front of his shirt in both her hands. She came a little out of her seat to lean into him.
All of her, the very essence of her, crashed over him again. Sam forgot that this was supposed to be part of his plan to lure her back to him. He was lost in her scent. The silk of her hair slid between his fingers. Her breasts nudged warmly and gently against his chest.
There was no room inside him for fear that no other woman had ever been able to do this to him. Not now. His need for her was too great to allow it. He lifted her the rest of the way out of her seat, pulling her into his arms, on top of him. She wriggled for a more comfortable position as her tongue started meeting his and she deepened the kiss of her own will. Her clever little fingers danced over his chest, his shoulders, into his hair.
“Inside,” he groaned against her mouth. “Let’s go inside.”
Cait froze.
She went utterly still before she reared off him, landing hard in her own seat again. She gasped. “What did I just do?”
“Whatever it was, I liked it.” He tried to grin, but he was shaken, too.
He wasn’t ready for the way she shoved blindly against her door or the way she flew out of the car. The crack of the door slamming shut made him flinch as though someone had struck him. His blood was still roaring. He watched her run to her stairs and take the first four of them pretty much the way she had come down them earlier—at a leap.
He never had a chance to stop her.
Sam thought briefly of going after her. But by the time he got to the top of her stairs, he knew she’d have the door locked and bolted as tightly as a sixteenth-century chastity belt.
Besides, his legs didn’t feel steady enough to carry him.
What the hell was going on here? Why did he want her so desperately, and why was she equally determined to set him aside? What was he going to do about it?
Giving up, walking away, never occurred to him. Sam eased the Maserati back out of her driveway, scrambling for still another alternative plan. He hoped the next one left him breathing better than this one had.
Cait was sick in the morning.
She told herself it was the pregnancy. All those hormones. She stepped out of the shower and dove for the toilet, letting nature take its course. She eased back to sit against the wall for a moment, then she got up shakily to brush her teeth.
She’d barely slept a wink. She was exhausted and she looked it. She caught her reflection in the mirror and winced. There were vague purple smudges under her eyes.
He’d kissed her again. And she had melted into him, had swarmed all over him, just as she had the first time. Her legs wobbled. Cait sat down hard on the rim of the tub.
The truth pounded at her. She hadn’t been pregnant the first time she’d flung herself at him. And she hadn’t had PTSD then. She’d just…craved him.
And she had craved him again last night.
It was him, she thought desperately. It wasn’t anything else, any of these other things that were going on in her life right now. It was something in the way she reacted to him. A lifetime full of caution was hurled aside when he was near. Twenty-five years of common sense deserted her. He got close to her and she wanted. She ached. She needed. Even knowing how foolish and how dangerous wanting and aching and needing could be.
She only had to get through one more day with Sam before her transfer went into effect, she told herself, trying for calm. She would just give him as wide a berth today as possible. But something painful bloomed in her chest at the thought of never working with him again, of escaping to Laredo and never seeing him again.
By the time she got to the hospital, she was steadier. Her stomach had settled. She checked on Beatty Jansen and spent a few minutes chatting with the girl. She was early again, so she went downstairs for a cup of tea before her shift started. She was sipping diligently when Nancy Walters approached her table.
Cait tried hard not to groan, but the sound came out, anyway. Nancy plunked a cup of coffee on the table and sat across from her, rubbing her feet just as she had before.
“They can’t possibly hurt you already,” Cait snapped. “It’s not even eight o’clock yet.” Did he ever kiss you like that? The question vaulted into her mind from out of nowhere. And if he did, how did you ever let him go?
“Habit.” Nancy grinned a little sheepishly and pushed her feet back into her shoes. “You know, I’m not your enemy, Cait. If anyone is, it’s Sam.”
Cait felt her heart
chug. “What do you mean?”
“Bert Eckle declined your transfer about five minutes ago. Actually, I came to the cafeteria looking for you so I could tell you in person. I know it meant a lot to you.”
It took Cait a moment to process what the woman was saying. “My transfer’s not going through? Why?”
Nancy sipped her coffee. “I just told you. Dr. Eckle rethought the idea of letting Elizabeth Halverson go.”
“Why?”
“Do you want his excuse, or do you want to know what I think?”
Cait ground her teeth together. “Both.”
“Okay. He says Beth’s got a real rapport going with a touch-and-go preemie.”
Cait narrowed her eyes. “But you don’t believe him.”
“No. Because I know Sam.”
“You think he’s behind this?”
“All I’m saying is that the man has never wanted one single thing he didn’t get. And he observes no laws.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” Cait forgot about her tea and pushed to her feet.
“What are you going to do?” Nancy asked.
“Hurt him.”
“Can I watch?”
Cait shot her a killer look. “No.” She stalked out of the cafeteria.
Nancy sat back in her chair speculatively. “Well,” she said. “Good for you.”
Nine
The last thing Cait felt like doing on her lunch break was keeping her appointment with Jared Cross. She trudged down the hallway at a little past noon, her nerves screwing tighter with every step.
He would take one look at her and know, she thought inanely.
There would be something in her stance, her posture, her eyes, that would scream loud and clear, “I’m having Sam’s baby!” Or maybe, Cait thought, Cross would spy the wanton, sex-crazed woman who peered out from inside her eyes, the one who couldn’t seem to keep her hands off Sam Walters no matter how hard she tried. It had occurred to her over the course of the morning that she had to end her professional relationship with Dr. Cross now as well. It was bad enough that she wouldn’t be able to escape Sam, after all, until she left Mission Creek. The thought of dodging Cross’s intrusive questions at the same time left her mentally exhausted.
She braced herself and knocked on Cross’s door. His voice called to her to come in and she stepped inside.
“How are you doing today?” he asked.
“Just dandy.”
He studied her as though making sure that was true. “Good. To be frank, you worried me running out of the ball like that the other night.”
“Oh, that. My apartment survived. Everything is fine.” Cait sat neatly and smoothed the legs of her pale-yellow scrubs.
“You mean with the candle?”
“The candle,” she agreed, “and everything else, too, for that matter. Everything’s perfect now.”
He still looked skeptical. “No more bursts of anger?”
She thought of the way she had taken Sam’s head off four hours ago because he had blocked her transfer. He’d denied it of course, which had only made her more frustrated and furious. “No,” she said, but her voice was a little too high-pitched. Apparently lies weren’t coming that easily to her these days. Maybe she really was getting back to herself.
Cait cleared her throat carefully. “Well, yes,” she confessed. “But this time it was warranted.”
“Care to tell me about it so I can decide?”
“Uh, no.”
“Caitlyn, I’m your doctor.” He gave that sigh again. It occurred to Cait that he did that a lot with her. “You can trust me. In fact, if you don’t trust me, then we’re wasting our time here.”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that.” She plucked an invisible piece of lint off her knee. “I’m not sure it’s necessary for me to continue with this.”
“You want to curtail our sessions?”
“I just don’t have time for these PTSD symptoms any longer.”
“And you think that such a decision will just make them go away?”
“Do you know you answer almost all of my comments with questions?” she countered.
Cross grinned. “That’s what shrinks do. So, answer me.”
“About the symptoms?” She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her breasts in an unconsciously defensive posture. “I can make them go away if I don’t humor them.”
He shook his head. “No, Caitlyn, you can’t.”
Her chin jutted forward. “Yes, I can.”
He laughed. “If it were that easy, I’d be out of a job.”
She smiled slightly. “Most people aren’t as strong-willed as I am. I think you’re safe.”
He leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk. “You have changed, you know.”
Cait thought about denying it and knew it would be senseless. So she took another tack. “I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.”
“I’m not, either.”
She blinked at him, surprised. “So I’m done here?”
“If you insist. I can’t hold you to therapy.”
She thought about it. “No, you can’t.”
“It just concerns me that you’re ending our professional association because there’s something you don’t want me to know.”
Cait shivered a little and wondered if he noticed. She decided not to try to answer that one. “I’ve done everything you told me to do,” she said, instead. “I went to the storage room and to the ball, and I’m coming along.”
“Caitlyn, you didn’t speak to one single person at that ball who was involved in the Hines situation with you.”
“But I never really talked to them before then, either,” she pointed out reasonably. She was pleased when he looked startled by that. “And it’s not true, anyway. I spoke to Sam. Dr. Walters,” she amended quickly.
“I think skirmishing would be a more accurate reflection of what you two were doing that night,” Cross said. “You do know that that sort of squabbling often indicates suppressed sexual tension, right?”
Cait choked. She’d been right! He’d taken one look at her and had glimpsed the sex maniac in her unplumbed depths! She wondered what he would say if he knew she’d had dinner with Sam last night and had flung herself all over him. She didn’t dare even think about it. If she thought about it, it might show on her face.
“Not in this case,” she said carefully.
Cross got to his feet, defeated. “Okay, have it your way. But I’m here if you need me.”
Cait stood, as well. “Thank you.” She thought briefly of telling him that she would be moving shortly, anyway, just to make him feel better about her cutting off her treatment. But she still wasn’t absolutely sure he wouldn’t repeat something like that to Tabitha or, worse, to Sam. He might just consider it common knowledge. She pressed her lips shut and went with him to the door.
“Promise me one thing,” he said, opening it. “If your symptoms change in any way, get in touch with me immediately.”
Cait stepped into the hall, frowning. “How would they change?”
“So far everything you’ve been experiencing has been on a manageable level. But if the PTSD exacerbates, it could be an indication that you really need to deal with it more aggressively.”
Cait stood straighter. “That won’t happen to me.”
Another flickering grin touched his mouth. “Yes. It could even happen to you.”
She didn’t want to ask and did, anyway. “You’re saying everything could get worse?”
“It could. It’s only been a few weeks since you escaped from that room. So far, for instance, you haven’t experienced any dreams reliving the ordeal.” He looked at her sharply to make sure that was correct.
Cait shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”
“Or outright panic attacks?”
“Nothing like that.” She’d come unglued yesterday when she’d realized someone had actually gone into her apartment, but she’d had damned good cause. And sh
e didn’t want to tell him about that, either. He might think the whole thing had been a product of her imagination and that she was indeed getting worse. Then he’d insist that she keep seeing him.
“Okay, then,” Cross said. “Those are some parameters. If you start dreaming of Hines or find yourself incapable of walking down the street without hyperventilating, let me know.”
“I will,” she promised.
He went back into his office and closed the door again. Cait hurried off down the hall.
Now that that was over, it occurred to her that she actually did feel pretty good. She felt stronger than she had since Hines had grabbed her. She had plans now, many plans. Sam had derailed her somewhat with his high-handed shenanigans with Dr. Eckle. But in the end, she’d win that issue because he couldn’t stop her from quitting her job. And leaving town would have an added advantage: she’d escape whoever had taken it into his head to break into her apartment.
She reached the nurses’ station, unaware that she was rubbing the back of her neck again. She glanced over her shoulder, back up the hallway, without realizing it.
“How’s Beatty?” she asked Angelina Moffit.
Sam’s voice answered from behind her. “I can release her tomorrow.”
Cait turned about a little too quickly and felt dizzy. “Oh, that’s good.” She had to put a hand on the desk to steady herself. Then she fell into those eyes of his. Their earlier spat over him blocking her transfer was apparently forgotten. His eyes were warm, a little searching….
Then they sharpened as he noticed the way she was bracing herself. “Are you okay?”
Cait snatched her hand back. “Fine.”
“No more incidents like last night?”
Cait felt her heart slam. “I don’t go around behaving like that as a matter of course.”
He looked startled, then he grinned. “Glad to hear it. I do believe, Nurse Matthews, that you just paid me a compliment. But I was talking about your apartment, not what happened after dinner.”
“Oh.” Cait was mortified. “Of course you were.”
“But you weren’t.” He wiggled his brows.