The Parent Plan Part 2

Inarticulate cries broke from her as she moved faster and faster, her hair a tumble on the pillow as she arched her head backward. Awash in the musky, womanly scent of her, driven nearly to breaking, he strained to feel the first tiny shivers deep inside her, where his body craved welcome.

When he felt the spasms take hold, he drew back, his knee nudging her thighs wider. Bracing himself, he plunged downward, filling her. She cried out, her eyes flying open and her hips thrusting upward to take him deeper. Moaning, her breath came in rasping gasps now. She gripped his buttocks with hard, desperate fingers and urged him to move with her.

Pain tore at him, mingling with a rising urgency until finally he felt the hot tension inside her give way, and she cried out. He thrust harder, seeking desperately to escape the black prison cell where his sins had confined him.

His heart thundered in his ears, mingling with the guttural cry of his own release. At the same time, he heard Kari call his name and wrap her arms and legs around him. Once, twice, he felt himself convulse into her, until he was at once depleted and sated.

Later, as she slept in his arms, he let his eyes drift closed and told himself they could work things out. He wasn’t sure he could stand it if they didn’t.

Chapter Seven

Waking to a predawn gloom, Karen found herself alone. A quick check of the clock told her that it was past the time Cassidy usually awoke. Even so, she felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t lingered long enough to kiss her awake. Still, she took heart in the fact that he’d made love to her so thoroughly she felt utterly cherished. No matter how fierce his need to control his life might be, there was still a part of him that she could reach. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Shivering in the morning chill, she hurried down the hall to Vicki’s room where she discovered her daughter snuggled into her bright coverlet, her small heart-shaped face as peaceful as an angel’s. Something poignant and sad passed through her as she bent to kiss her daughter’s temple. Today Vicki would find out that life wasn’t always warm puppies and frisky colts.

After slipping into the slippers she’d left by the bed earlier, Karen headed toward the kitchen and the aroma of fresh-perked coffee. Double-strength and black as the road to hell, she thought as she poured herself a cup. Moments later she was standing by the kitchen window, staring out at the still-darkened buildings, while she waited for the caffeine to wake up her tired brain.

There should be a light in the barn, she realized with a fuzzy frown. Although it was still too early for the hands to begin showing up, Cassidy had a rule about checking things out early. By the time Billy and the others arrived, he would have his gelding fed and saddled, and the day planned out for each man.

No doubt he was waiting to break the news to Vicki before he started his day, she decided, taking another greedy sip. It wouldn’t be easy for either of them, but she trusted Cassidy to break the news gently. That realization made her sigh. The tenderness he showed their daughter never failed to move her. And dammit, it made her ache inside because she wanted some of that tenderness for herself.

A few seconds later, her cup gripped in one hand, she approached Cassidy’s office. The polished pine door was ajar, and light from within spilled into the shadowed hall in a long, thin wedge. Like the man himself, the room was unpretentious and spare. Everything had a purpose—his accounting books, breeding logs, a top-of-the-line computer that he hated but used with precise skill.

The desk itself was a one-of-a-kind treasure, a massive slab of western pine fully eight feet long, crosscut by some gigantic saw blade long ago and darkened by age and hard wear. One corner, the right, bore countless scuffs where Cassidy invariably propped his boot heels when lost in thought. There were no keepsakes on the desk or the floor-to-ceiling bookcases other than the ones Vicki had made for him and no pictures on the wall except her crayon drawings and a recent watercolor of Goldie she’d done for a 4-H art project.

Cassidy sat in his big, worn chair behind the desk, his back to her, his bare feet propped atop a stack of printouts. His favorite coffee mug with the broken handle and chipped rim was close at hand, still half-full of the same black sludge steaming in her own mug.

His ebony hair spilled onto his forehead, and his jaw showed the dark shadow of unshaven whiskers. He was wearing jeans so old the hems had long since frayed away and a faded blue shirt, the sleeves of which had been carelessly rolled back to the elbows, revealing roped forearms.

A spreadsheet glowed on the computer screen in front of him, but instead of studying the figures in their neat columns, he was gazing down at something in his hand. A photograph, she realized after a moment’s study. Of Vicki and Goldie, she suspected, from the sadness that seemed to grip him.

He suddenly lifted his head and shifted his gaze toward the door. At the same time he slipped the photo in his hand beneath the desk blotter.

“Come in,” he said quietly.

There was a stillness about him that made her uneasy. It was as if he had pulled everything inside, where it could be protected as fiercely as he protected his daughter.

“Vicki’s still sleeping,” she told him as she entered. “I’m glad it’s Sunday so she doesn’t have to go to school.”

“Might be better if she did.” He let his head fall back against the age-dark leather of the chair. “I hate to have her watch while the meat wagon hauls Goldie off.”

“If I know Vicki, she’ll insist.” Life goes on, she thought as she moved to the window. After opening the drapes, she leaned against the heavy material and stared out at the new day.

The rain had stopped, and the sun was nudging the horizon, the first fingers of daybreak already turning a brilliant orange-red. She stood silently, letting the splendor soothe her.

“It’s almost dawn,” she murmured, loving the look of the ranch bathed in early morning mist. Then, turning slowly, she offered him a smile. “I missed you when I woke up.”

His mouth softened a little. “I’m not much for sleeping past dawn.”

“I know. I guess I was hoping you’d make an exception.” She let her smile take on wanton edges. “I wanted to make love with you again.”

“Kari, after last night I’m thinking I’ll be lucky if I can ever make love again.” Though his voice was tinged with a laconic humor, a flush spread over his hard cheekbones and into the silver-flecked thickness at his temples.

She felt something loosen and curl inside her. Hope, she realized, taking a step forward. Glorious, miraculous hope.

“Cassidy, we can work this out,” she said eagerly. “I know we can.”

A muscle jerked along his jaw as he met her gaze with unreadable eyes. “I’m open to suggestions,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“Once I’m settled in a practice, I’ll be able to hire a full-time housekeeper and maybe a nanny for Vicki.”

His jaw tightened, then relaxed as though the muscles were answering some inner command. And for a second she thought she saw disappointment shimmering in his eyes. “Trust me, Karen. It’s not the same.”

“How do you know?”

His eyes grew bleak, then steadied. “My brother and I were pretty much raised by a baby-sitter.”

Karen blinked. “You never told me that.”

His shoulders moved only a fraction. “Why should I? It had nothing to do with you and me.”

“Your mother had to work?” she asked, an idea taking shape in her mind.

“I don’t have a mother.”

“But you said she left when you were ten. That you found her address after your father died and sent her a letter, but she never answered.”

Pain he thought he’d conquered years ago tore through him. He fought it the only way that was safe—with a cold anger.

“Hire the housekeeper if you want. I never wanted you to wear yourself out scrubbing toilets.”

“In other words, you’ll give me anything I want—as long as I quit my job and stay home full-time.”

“Is it so wrong to want a normal life?”

“Normal for you, but not for me.”

“And what about Vicki?”

She had to take a breath. “Vicki is totally well-adjusted and happy, and before you start accusing me of neglecting her, most of the time when she’s not in school, she’s out with you or Billy or one of the other men. And when we’re both busy, Wanda is here.”

He rubbed his callused fingers over the worn padding on the chair seat. “A child needs her mother. She needs you, Kari.”

“She has me, Cassidy. Just not every moment of my time or every ounce of my energy.”

She saw his eyes narrow a split second before he lowered his gaze to the desk. “Did you ever stop to think what it feels like for a child to live on leftovers?” he asked with a deadly softness.

“What are you talking about?”

“Scraps, Kari. Of time and attention and…other things.”

Kari couldn’t breathe. Was that how Cassidy had grown up? Feeling like a stray dog hanging around waiting for bits of attention or pieces of love?

Her heart softened. “Vicki has always been my first priority. No matter what, I always make sure I spend quality time with her.”

“And your husband, Kari? Was that what happened last night? More quality time from Dr. Sloane?”

“You know it wasn’t,” she whispered.

“No, Karen, I don’t know.”

Karen heard a truck pull in and doors slam. It wouldn’t be long before Billy was knocking on the back door, eager for a cup of coffee and a little gossip with the boss before they started the day.

Cassidy’s expression told her that he, too, had heard the men arrive. She waited, expecting him to go out to start them on their day. When he didn’t, she told herself that was a good sign.

“You don’t want a nanny and you don’t want Wanda,” she repeated calmly.

“Wanda’s fine. When you’re not here.”

“Which is exactly my point, Cassidy. Vicki’s needs are being well met.”

A flush ran up the back of his neck. “Quit the damn job,” he said in that same quiet tone. “Call the hospital administrator tomorrow and resign.”

His face was stony, his eyes cold, no reason at all to suspect that he was pleading with her. And yet, she felt as though he were staking everything he held dear on this one demand. Some of her anger fell away.

“I tried it your way,” she said, careful to keep her voice calm and reasonable. “For three years. I nearly lost myself as a result. I can’t take that chance again.”

His jaw tensed. Karen studied the deeply chiseled lines of character and experience in his hard face and marveled that he really had no conception of the power he held in those big work-worn hands because she loved him.

“Cassidy, listen to me, please.” She leaned closer and touched his arm. His muscles contracted, and she let her hand drop. “Part of me loved being a full-time mom, especially when Vicki was toddling around, discovering something new and wonderful practically every minute of every day. And I loved fixing up this funny old house. But another part of me was dying by inches. Inside, I felt ashamed because I was—”

“Just a poor, uneducated rancher’s wife?” The raw bitterness shuddering through his harsh question slammed into her like a body blow.

“No, that’s not it at all! I love being a rancher’s wife. And you have more knowledge of animal husbandry and agronomy than most PhDs.”

“You said you were ashamed,” he snarled.

“I said I was ashamed because I’d broken a promise I’d made to myself and my father to become a doctor,” she said in deliberately calm tones. “To carry on the work he intended to do.”

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