36 Hours Serial

As a devastating summer storm hits Grand Springs, Colorado, the next thirty-six hours will change the town and its residents forever….

The Parent Plan Part 2

Cassidy has been angry and hostile ever since Vicki’s accident, blaming Karen for working at the hospital while Vicki needed her. It’s causing a rift in their marriage that gets bigger every day. Karen can’t face the loneliness anymore of being with a man too frozen inside to love.

Is a separation the only way out? And if Karen and Cassidy try to solve their problems apart, how can they ever get back together?

The story concludes in The Parent Plan Part 3.

Dear Reader,

In the town of Grand Springs, Colorado, a devastating summer storm sets off a string of events that changes the lives of the residents forever….

Welcome to Mills & Boon exciting new digital serial, 36 Hours! In this thirty-six part serial share the stories of the residents of Grand Springs, Colorado, in the wake of a deadly storm.

With the power knocked out and mudslides washing over the roads, the town is plunged into darkness and the residents are forced to face their biggest fears—and find love against all odds.

Each week features a new story written by a variety of bestselling authors like Susan Mallery and Sharon Sala. The stories are published in three segments, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and the first segment of every three-part book is free, so you can get caught up in the mystery and drama of Grand Springs. And you can get to know a new set of characters every week. You can read just one, but as the lives and stories of each intertwine in surprising ways, you’ll want to read them all!

Join Mills & Boon E every week as we bring you excitement, mystery, fun and romance in 36 Hours!

Happy reading!

About the Author

Paula Detmer Riggs discovers inspiration for her stories in her varying life experiences. During the first five years of her marriage to a naval officer she lived in nineteen different locales on both the East and West Coasts, including Southern and Northern California, the Puget Sound area and Newport, Rhode lsland. While acting as a docent in Old Town, California, she wrote and directed historic fashion shows, which led to a fascination with early California history.

In later years she and her husband owned and operated a historic nursery in Oregon listed on the National Register of Historic Sites. They are now happily living in the first territorial capital of Arizona, Prescott, which still possesses the flavor and fascination of the Wild West.

Paula writes romances because “I think we all need escape from the fast-paced, often stressful challenges of the twenty-first century lifestyles that confront us daily, and because I believe in true and lasting love—and, best of all, happy endings!”

The Parent Plan Part 2
Paula Detmer Riggs

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Cassidy Sloane has finally made something of himself after having such a horrible childhood. He’s a successful rancher, his daughter’s hero and his wife’s knight-in-shining-armor—or at least he was. These days he can’t seems to do anything right. It all came to a head during those 36 hours of that June rainstorm, a time no one will forget. Their daughter almost died in that cave-in. Cassidy blames himself, and Karen. If she would stop choosing being a doctor and put their family first, then everything would go back to normal…or would it? Maybe it’s gone too far already? Cassidy is already losing his wife and he’s about to break his daughter’s heart if he can’t find a way to save her horse. He’s trying so hard, but how much more can a man take?

Chapter Six

Cassidy Sloane stood by the wide double doors of the foaling shed and watched the taillights of Dr. Paul Caine’s pickup disappear into a wall of rain.

The pastures would be soup, he thought, turning toward the light and the chores that still needed doing. The sudden motion sent a wave of dizziness sweeping over him, and he staggered. Reaching out a hand, he steadied himself against the barn’s rough exterior.

Pain shot up his shoulder, a reminder of the agonizing, long hours he’d spent fighting the dying mare’s spasming muscles, trying to turn the foal before its delicate bones were crushed. In the end it hadn’t mattered.

Golden Girl was gone. And so was her foal.

“Boss, you feelin’ okay?” Billy and one of the younger hands who’d been helping stepped quickly to his side.

Cassidy offered his ramrod a curt nod. “Just catchin’ my breath before I finish cleaning up.”

“Why don’t you go on in and let me’n Randall here do the cleanin’?” Billy suggested, pulling a cigar from the pocket of his filthy shirt.

It was tempting, but Cassidy made himself refuse. Instead, he stepped away from the wall and took a testing breath. The dizziness was gone. In its place was a heavy lethargy that was almost as bad.

“You go on home, the both of you. I already owe you enough overtime to damn near bust me.”

“Hell, boss, I’m already into you for two months’ advance,” Billy drawled, striking a wooden match on the wall behind him. “Don’t make me no never mind if you pay me extra for tonight, anyway,” he said between puffs as he fired his smoke to life.

“Me, neither,” Whitehorse added, sweeping off his Stetson with a weary hand. “Got me no place to spend my money nohow.”

Billy snorted. “The hell you say. I thought you had plans to escort Wanda June to some big dance at the high school next month.”

“She got herself in a tangle over me wearing this fancy tuxedo.” The young cowboy flexed his shoulders as though trying to shuck off the very idea. “When I told her I’d rather be shut up in a ten-foot corral with a Brahma stud than put on sissy duds, she up and told me to get lost.”

Billy exchanged a wry look with Cassidy, who suspected his men were deliberately ragging each other in an attempt to take his mind off the mess inside. He ground his teeth. Even after years of trying, he’d never quite conquered the queasiness that invariably followed the sight of blood.

He did his best to hide it. Sometimes he succeeded. Mostly he failed. Tonight his men and the vet had had a ringside seat while he’d puked up his dinner. Though they’d pretended not to notice, he was still feeling raw.

“Dawn comes early,” he said, his voice rasped by the memory of his earlier humiliation. “You guys can stand here and jaw all night if you want, but I’m fixin’ to wind things up and try for a few hours’ sleep.”

“Sure thing, boss.” From the corner of his eye, Cassidy saw Billy jerk his head at the kid who looked puzzled for an instant, then took his cue.

“Night, Billy, Mr. Sloane.”

Cassidy nodded. “Appreciate your help tonight, Whitehorse. Thanks.”

The kid’s tired face creased into a wide grin. “Sure thing, boss. Sorry we couldn’t save her. She was a sweet animal.” Whitehorse turned and walked toward his truck. Seconds later, the engine roared to life and Randall headed home to his bed.

Ignoring a tug of envy, Cassidy squared his shoulders and started to step across the threshold, only to have Billy stop him. “Let me do it, Cass,” he said.

Cassidy had to unlock his jaw to answer gruffly, “You’ve done enough, but thanks for the offer.”

“Cass, listen to me.” His gaze bored into Cassidy’s, full of a rough intensity. “So the sight of blood makes you sick. So what? There’s no shame to it. Tonight, in there, when the doc…well, I was pretty queasy myself.”

Cassidy fought down the nightmare image of Caine’s scalpel flashing in the light. “Nice try, Billy, but I have to handle this my way.”

The ramrod nodded slowly, demons of his own surfacing for a moment in his tired green eyes. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Cassidy watched the man he considered his best friend climb into his pickup and drive away, knowing even as he stood there with the rain sheeting past him that he was stalling. Anything to keep from going back inside, where the stench of blood still hung in the air like a curse.

By the time the sound of the truck faded, he was beginning to wish he’d shucked his pride and accepted Billy’s offer. He searched for an appropriate phrase to describe his own stupidity, then realized he was too tired to swear.

“Just get it done, Sloane,” he muttered as he made himself walk inside.

Even though he was prepared, the metallic odor that enveloped him had him gritting his teeth by the time he’d taken only a few steps. Get it done, he repeated silently, reaching for the pitchfork. He’d pile the blood-soaked straw out back, then scour the stall and the section of the cement floor he could reach with bleach and disinfectant. He’d have to wait for the animal disposal guys to move the corpses before he could finish the job. Still, he’d have the place clean enough so it was safe to let Vicki come in to say goodbye.

Willing his body to cooperate, he set to work. His muscles ached at the abuse, but the pain kept his mind from wandering. Overhead, the rain beat a steady rhythm, like the tick of the metronome Sylvia kept on the piano.

When Vicki had been four or five, it had been one of her favorite toys.

His hands tightened on the fork as he let himself think, finally, of the task that awaited him when this one was done. No matter how he circled the truth in his head tonight, he knew in his gut that telling Vicki was going to be pure hell.

Vicki and her Golden Girl had grown up together. Two frisky and willful youngsters galloping through the fields.

And now, because he’d wanted to breed Goldie’s beauty and heart to the stallion’s courage, Vicki was about to learn the pain of losing her best friend.

* * *

Karen started to turn over in bed, only to find herself teetering precariously on the edge of the mattress. Still half asleep, she pried her eyes open in order to check the time by the clock radio. It was then that she realized she had fallen asleep on Vicki’s narrow bed while waiting for Vicki to drift off.

Next to her, Vicki was cuddled into a ball, her cheeks rosy from sleep, her breathing regular and deep. The room was dark with the exception of a square of muted light from the security lamp shining through the ruffled curtains. The house was quiet. No sound from outside penetrated the old house’s thick walls.

Karen had no idea what time it might be, though she suspected it was a few hours before dawn. Her head ached from too much wine and too little sleep, and her back was stiff from her awkward position.

The last thing she remembered she’d been staring at the glow from the small lamp she’d left burning on the dresser, thinking about the first time Cassidy had made love to her.

It had been in the hayloft of the main barn, a huge old dinosaur of a structure, with a granite foundation and huge oak beams.

Cassidy had been bucking hay bales that day and the scent of fresh-mown alfalfa had filled the air with a delightful sweetness.

It had been close to a hundred degrees that Saturday afternoon, and he’d been working without a shirt. Incredibly strong, utterly beautiful, he’d handled the monstrously heavy bales with an economy of motion that had amazed her. Under a shimmering sheen of sweat, his body had been deeply tanned, a magnificent creation of fluid muscle and resilient sinew, furred across the chest with a soft pelt of black curls.

He’d said very little, but his deep-set dark brown eyes had been liquid with a longing so fierce she’d taken a step backward. But when he’d held out his hand and beckoned her to step from the ladder onto the dusty, hay-strewn floor, she’d obeyed without a second thought.

Even as he’d kissed her out of her shorts and top, she’d been aware of the incredible power of his body, the massively muscled chest, the steely strength in long legs capable of controlling a half-ton horse with ease.

He hadn’t asked for her love, but it had been his from the first gentle, almost shy touch of his callused hand, the first slow smile that reached his eyes as well as his hard mouth.

In her heart they had been wed from the moment he’d slowly eased his body into hers, inexorably stretching her to accommodate his hard length, his muscled frame shuddering from the effort to be gentle. Though he’d said little, she’d felt the hunger in him. The wild, desperate need that seemed to burn through his skin. In return, he’d made her soar.

Vicki had been conceived that hot, dusty day; she was sure of it.

Cassidy had doted on his daughter from the first magical moment of her birth, so much so that he’d wanted more children as soon as Karen’s doctor had given her the go-ahead.

She’d wanted more children, too. A houseful.But later, after she’d finished her education and established herself in a practice. At the time, Cassidy had appeared to understand.

With a sigh, she smoothed the covers closer to her daughter’s stubborn little chin. As Karen started to ease from the bed, she realized that a blanket had been thrown over her as she’d slept. The light had been extinguished as well, she realized belatedly.

Cassidy must have come in to check on Vicki and found her there, too. Had he kissed her when he’d covered her? she wondered, then rejected the notion. Even in her sleep, she would have responded to him.

Bracing herself against the cold, she got to her feet and tiptoed barefoot out of the room. The light was on in the master bedroom. Cassidy was awake, lying naked on his back, his powerful arms folded under his head. One thick forearm bore a long, angry-looking scrape, and on his right shoulder was a large bruise already purpling and puffy, both giving testimony to the battle he must have waged to bring a new foal into the world.

He’d obviously showered. His black hair was still damp and only haphazardly combed away from his lined forehead and he smelled faintly of soap. The covers lay in disarray, as though jerked free in anger, and only the sheet covered him.

At her entrance he turned his head and looked at her. Though his gaze was direct, his expression was shuttered. Oh, no, no! she thought, already preparing herself for the worst.

“Golden Girl?” she asked quietly as she closed the door behind her.

“Gone. The foal, too. Prettiest little filly you ever saw.” His gaze flickered, then held steady again. She wondered again what had happened to him in the past to prompt him to guard his feelings so brutally.

“I’m sorry.”

He acknowledged that with a curt nod. “Doc tried, I’ll give him that. But it was a breech.”

Karen saw in his eyes the things he’d omitted, and she wanted to weep.

Feeling as though she’d aged a hundred years in the span of one day, she removed her robe and tossed it toward the foot of the bed. Outside, the wind strained against the branches of the towering aspens, and the old house creaked in a familiar nightly ritual that had never failed to soothe her—until tonight.

“I told Vicki I would give her the news as soon as you told me, but I don’t have the heart to wake her,” she said as she slipped beneath the already tumbled covers.

“I’ll tell her. It’s my responsibility.”

“But not your fault.”

His control slipped long enough to reveal a muscle ticking along his jaw. His voice, too, held a harsh note of self-censure. “It was my call, my decision to breed the mare.”

“Of course you bred her,” she hastened to assure him. “Goldie was a beautiful animal with excellent bloodlines. There isn’t a rancher in the state who wouldn’t have bred her.”

“Tell that to my daughter.” He plowed a hand through his already rumpled hair.

“I will, even though I have a feeling she’ll figure that out for herself. Vicki has your instincts, your love of animals. She’ll make a marvelous rancher.”

His eyes flashed. “The hell she will.”

Karen drew a calming breath. “Please, let’s not get into another argument about our conflicting views on gender-specific careers.”

Cassidy felt rage tearing at the edges of his calm, the strangling, desperate kind that always came when his thoughts threatened to slide into a pit of icy blackness where some nameless, faceless terror was always waiting.

“If that means I don’t intend to allow my daughter to burn herself out doing a man’s job, then, yeah, there’s no point in arguing, because it’s a done deal,” he said with more force than finesse.

“No,” she said quietly, distinctly. “It isn’t. Victoria will have the same unlimited choices I had growing up.”

“Yeah, and we all know how well you turned out, don’t we, Dr. Sloane?”

“Damn you,” she whispered, her voice as raw as a blizzard wind. “I don’t deserve that.”

“No, you’re a great doctor. Everyone says so.”

She breathed in sharply, then let the air out in a slow stream. “What’s happening to us, Cassidy?” she asked, looking at him beseechingly.

“We’re worried about Vicki, that’s what’s happening.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s more than that,” she said after a long moment of deliberation.

“You’re just upset.”

“Why are you shutting me out when we both need each other so much?”

Need wasn’t an emotion he allowed. Not for a long, long time. “Karen, I’m not exactly in a mood for a deep philosophical discussion at the moment.” His voice came out hard and clipped, and he couldn’t make himself say the words to ease the hurt now shimmering in her eyes like unshed tears. But it was the tears quivering on the tips of her lashes that broke him.

“Damn.” He was moving before he thought, rearing up to close the distance between them, reaching for her even as he crashed his mouth down on hers.

He absorbed her unique taste, part sweet, part tart, and felt her lips soften. In the back of his mind he knew what he was doing wouldn’t solve a thing, but the need to try one more time to bind her to him was too strong. But even as he argued that he was fighting for what was his by law and by need, he struggled against a feeling of revulsion at his own behavior. With a groan, he dragged his mouth from hers.

“No, don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice thick with tears.

“It tears me apart when I hurt you,” he rasped, blood surging to his loins. “I just can’t seem to stop doing it.”

“I know.” Reaching up, she traced the line of his mouth with her fingertip, and heat shot through him. “I wish I’d declined the invitation to that stupid party.”

“Goldie would still be dead, party or no party.”

“Yes, but the party reminded us both of the things we said to each other that night at the cave entrance.”

“You mean the things I said, don’t you?”

She nodded. “They hurt, Cassidy. I can’t deny that.”

He felt an odd twisting in his gut. “Would you rather I lied?”

She shook her head. “I can’t go on feeling guilty forever.”

“I want you home, Kari. That’s not going to change.”

He saw the play of emotions in her eyes, bled a little when the glow left.

“Where does that leave us now, at this moment?” she asked, her chin angling defiance and strength.

“The same place it always does in this room. I want you.”

“All right.”

“Just like that?”

Her smile was ragged, but it still had the power to draw him closer. “No, not just like that. I want you, too.”

Worn out from so much talk, he captured her finger between his teeth and used his tongue to lave the tip. Gentleness was a skill he’d only marginally mastered, but he steeled himself to go slowly. For her sake, he told himself. Not because he was hoping against hope that this time his will would prevail against the pill keeping her safe from his seed.

Yet it felt as though all the demons of hell were riding him hard, urging him to love her so completely she wouldn’t have the strength to leave him. Helpless against a building need, he found her mouth again, this time to plunder and possess. Instead of retreating, she rose to meet him, her hands linking behind his neck to tug him closer. His breath mingled with hers, great warm gasps of desperate need, and soft, eager cries poured from her throat, exciting him into a fever only she could break.

Shaken, he ended the kiss, only to have her begin her own seduction of his mouth. His control teetered on a hot, honed edge, then shattered at the first tentative touch of her tongue against his lips. With a sound that was both anger and surrender, he opened his mouth and welcomed her pillaging tongue.

When he couldn’t stand the torment any longer, he dragged his mouth from hers in order to concentrate on the warm, sweet treasure at the base of her neck. She tasted of bath soap and smelled delicious, exactly as a woman should.

His woman, he wanted to shout as he felt her fingers skimming his shoulders. As she arched her neck and pressed her breasts against his chest, flames licked at him, hotter than the man-made hell where he’d spent most of his life. In her kiss was the promise of release he craved—not only from his physical torment, but also from the talons of guilt and regret that never stopped clawing at him, no matter how desperately he tried to make his life count for something.

Karen writhed under him, her hands seeking and desperate, her strangled cries escalating. Again and again he filled his mouth with her, then tried to slake his pain and anger and shame by worshiping her breasts. Warm, full breasts tipped with hard little nubs so eager to be suckled, so temptingly sweet, even through the silky flannel of her gown.

“Yes, oh yes!” she urged, her voice thick with a passion that spurred his own onto higher ground. “Faster. Go faster.”

“Easy,” he managed to say between burning kisses, his body riding a dangerous ridge between pain and pleasure while he groped with the hem of the nightie.

“No, I want to feel you inside me,” she urged, twisting and bucking like a wild thing.

“Oh, baby, you feel good,” he murmured, pulling her down onto the bed. He leaned over her and brought their hips closer together. She gasped when his engorged body probed hers, and he felt her welcoming heat through a thin layer of fabric.

He groaned with impatience and triumph as his fingers found the warm, sleek skin beneath the flannel. “Help me,” he grated, his voice sounding thick as molasses.

Between kisses, she helped him free her from her gown. With one snap of his powerful wrist, he sent the thin material whooshing halfway across the room. His other hand shook a little as he skimmed his palm over her rib cage, over her belly where a few silvery lines attesting to her pregnancy still remained, to the soft nest of springy curls between her thighs.

He palmed her first, and felt her shiver. Burying his face between her breasts, he slipped one finger past the swollen folds protecting the tiny nubbin nestled just inside. He massaged the hard kernel of acutely sensitive nerve endings and felt her shudder, then come alive, arching, tearing at his hair, bucking against his thigh.

“Soon,” he whispered, trying to gentle her the way he gentled a skittish mare, but she wouldn’t allow restraint. On a groan of surrender, he slipped two fingers into the warm, moist sheath and felt the tremors shaking her. She was so slick, so hot, her readiness like a rare and precious gift that he would treasure always, especially in the dark nights ahead.

Panting, her breath coming in little sobs of need, she moved against his fingers. Gritting his teeth, he forced his mind off the hot, throbbing pressure in his groin and concentrated on stroking her into readiness.

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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