When Morning Comes (19 page)

Frowning, Vera came farther into the room. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

“You didn't,” Kara managed. It had been her own naughty thoughts about her son that was the problem. She moistened her dry lips. “Tristan said you were dropping by.”

“Oh,” Vera said.

For some reason her direct gaze made Kara nervous. “Y-yes. I'm staining the wood for the frames this week. I wanted to know which pictures you were interested in so I could frame them once I finished with the ones for Tristan.”

“All of them,” Vera said, then laughed at what Kara knew was her stunned expression. “I agree with my son, you're very talented and a special young woman.”

Kara was stunned again, this time by what Vera had said. Tristan thought she was special. She tucked the words in her heart.

Stepping past Kara, Vera went to the paintings propped against the wall facing her. “There are several that would look fabulous in the spec house I'm decorating. You said Tristan has already picked out the ones he wants.”

“Yes,” Kara said. “He's already hung one. The others are in his office.”

Vera nodded. “I don't blame him. If I had room, I'd select a couple for my home. I still might.” She reached for a picture.

“No!” Kara snapped off her gloves and rushed over. “You point and I'll do the rest.”

Vera wrinkled her nose. “Tristan is just being his overprotective self. I can lift the painting as well as you.”

“No disrespect, but I've seen too many patients back in the hospital or having prolonged therapy for not following orders,” Kara told her. “I don't imagine you liked the restrictions your doctor imposed on you. You certainly don't want the time extended or worse, to not get the optimum results from your surgery.”

“Pain doesn't wake me up in the mornings anymore,” Vera said. She sighed and pointed. “That one, please.”

Kara picked up the paintings as Vera directed. By the time they finished, Vera had selected seventeen paintings.

“Can you have those ready in a couple of weeks?” Vera asked.

“I don't…” Kara began, then said, “They'll be ready.” This was her chance. Whatever it took, she'd have them matted and framed.

“Good. I have another appointment, so I'll run and let you get back to work.”

Kara followed Tristan's mother to the door. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“Thank Tristan,” Vera said.

“I have,” Kara told her. “He's changed my life.”

Vera smiled. “You might have changed his as well. Good-bye, Kara.”

“Good-bye.” Puzzled by Vera's last comment, Kara watched Vera walk down the hall to Tristan's office, then dismissed it. She had work to do. Tristan and his mother were giving her a chance, but she had to do her part.

She picked up a cloth and a dark mahogany stain and began applying it to the wood. No more sinful thoughts about a man who was just passing through her life no matter how sexy he was, no matter how much she wondered what it would be like to kiss him again.

Two hours later, her back and neck in knots, Kara placed the stained molding on the table and pulled off her gloves. She'd made good progress. If she continued, she could possibly start framing next week since she didn't need molding for all thirty-two pictures.

She started from the room, but took one last look back and then bumped into a solid wall of temptation. Air fluttered over her lips. “Tristan. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not.” His head descended.

She didn't even make the effort to evade the kiss, not that he gave her a chance. His hungry mouth captured hers, taking her on an easy ride of pleasure. He made her body hum, want. She'd gotten her wish, and it was better than the first time.

“You taste better each time I kiss you.”

Her stomach did a slow roll. So did his. What she wouldn't give for another forbidden taste. “I-I was just leaving.”

“You never even took a break.”

“I'm used to working nonstop. My mother … I should go,” she said, trying to step away and finding it impossible.

“I'll grab my keys.”

“For what?” she asked as he released her and moved toward his office. He couldn't be thinking of following her home.

“I need to make a run,” he called as he went into his office, and almost immediately reappeared. “Let's go.”

Outside, he walked her to her car, which was parked behind his truck. “See you tomorrow. Drive safely.” He kissed her on the cheek, then went to his truck.

Kara stared at him, then got into her car when his engine started. She wondered where he could be going, then shook her head and backed out of the driveway. He was young, handsome, rich. It was barely nine. She straightened and glanced into her rearview mirror, saw his headlights.

Dammit, she wasn't jealous, but he'd kissed her as if she meant everything to him.

Kara took the ramp to the freeway and Tristan was still behind her. Her gaze flickered to the rearview mirror when she passed the exit for downtown where there were lots of places a man on the prowl might find what he was looking for. He stayed behind her when she took her exit.

He was following her home. He didn't have to, but she knew somehow it was his way.

Fifteen minutes later she pulled into her driveway and activated the garage door. Lowering her window, she waved good night to Tristan and pulled inside, letting the garage door back down. A little smile on her lips, she went inside. Her mother met her.

“At last you're learning some sense and came home at a decent time and alone.” With that her mother turned and went to her room.

Kara stared after her. “I certainly am, Mama. I certainly am.”

*   *   *

Thursday evening, her hands gripping the steering wheel, Kara pulled into Tristan's driveway. It was 7:23
P.M.
She slammed out of the car and hurried to the front door. It seemed as if everything had conspired against her efforts to stay on track and finish staining the molding. She hadn't been able to leave work until 6:15. She'd run into a traffic jam, and then arrived home to her mother waiting like a baby bird to be fed. She'd fixed her a roast beef sandwich from leftovers, ignored her disapproving face, and left.

Tristan opened the door. “Sorry.” She brushed by him, already going over in her mind what she had to do. She entered the room and came to a complete stop, then closed her eyes.

“I had the time.”

Opening her eyes again she saw almost all of the moldings that she'd planned to stain tonight were already stained and varnished. She turned and he was there. She leaned into him, closing her arms around him.

“Bad day?” he asked, stroking her from her head to her hips.

“Horrible,” she said, fitting herself more comfortably against him.

“Maybe this will make it better.” Lifting her chin, he kissed her. Her lips and body softened, yielded to the mastery of his mouth, the comfort of his touch.

Lifting his head, his mouth hovered over hers. “Better?”

“Better.” Reluctantly, she pushed out of his arms. “Thanks for following me home and for this.” She picked up a pair of gloves. “I won't be able to come over this weekend.”

“Why?”

“This is my weekend to clean the house.” She began to rub varnish into the wheat-stalked molding.

“I don't suppose you'd consider hiring someone.” He picked up a length of molding.

“Not in the budget,” she said frankly, then continued. “I'm saving the money you paid me.” One way or another, she was getting a place of her own.

“What if I gave you an advance on the other paintings I know will sell?” he asked.

“Thank you, but I'd have to find someone, check them out.” And hear her mother gripe about the waste on something Kara could do, and then bring up her hot tub again. Kara placed the three-inch molding aside and picked up another piece. “I'll stay a little longer tomorrow night to get more done. You've been a big help.”

“I wish I could do more.”

She glanced up and saw the sincerity in his face. “You've given me more than I ever dreamed.”

“Kara—”

She averted her head. She was feeling too vulnerable, too needy. If he kissed her, they'd probably end up hot and sweaty in his bed. And lose more time. “I need to finish.”

“The day is getting closer when I won't let you run.”

“I know.” Her hands tightened. “I have to make this work.”

He picked up his cloth and began rubbing the wood. “So, what happened at work today?”

She breathed easier. He was giving her the time she needed, but one day he wouldn't. She shivered. One day she wouldn't want him to.

*   *   *

Sabrina decided after a restless Wednesday night that if she got hot and bothered seeing Cade, he might feel the same about her. With that thought in mind, she asked the charge nurse on the surgery floor to call her when he came up to make rounds. Sabrina had gone up Thursday afternoon to find Cade dictating on the computer.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him stiffen when she spoke to everyone. She'd made it a point to speak and place a friendly hand on his shoulder. He'd jerked around. The heat and desire in his eyes scorched her, taking her breath away. Then it was gone. He whirled back to continue dictating.

The second time was by accident in the X-ray department later that afternoon. By Friday she decided it was time to put them both out of their misery. Seeing him sitting in the cafeteria, a place she'd seldom seen him, she decided he might have the same idea.

“Hi, mind if I join you?' she asked, a soft drink in one hand.

“You know this can't work,” he said.

Smiling, she took a seat. “A drink and conversation?”

“Is that all you want?” he asked.

Heat zipped though her body. “I might ask you the same thing.”

Desire burned hotly in his eyes. “Don't push this,” he warned.

Sabrina took a sip of her Pepsi to ease her dry throat. There was nothing to be done about her accelerated heart rate. “Have you picked up a birthday gift for Clarissa?” Sabrina asked. Surely that was a safe topic.

Cade hadn't. In fact, he had hoped he could escape going to the child's birthday party. He should have known better. “I thought I could give you some money to pick up a gift.”

Sabrina folded her arms. “No can do.”

“Why not?”

Her arms came to her sides, a grin on her pretty face. “Clarissa and her parents want you.”

He knew, and that made him a bit restless. In the past, he had kept his relationship with patients strictly professional. He wasn't sure how it had changed. Then he stared across the table at Sabrina looking up at him with her saucy smile that he was becoming all too used to, and knew the exact reason.

“Stop frowning unless you want to make an appointment with Dr. Snyder,” Sabrina teased, referring to the plastic surgeon.

She continued to amaze him. No one teased him or seemed to care about him if it wasn't professionally related. No one but her. No matter what, nothing seemed to faze her. “I suppose you can't wait.”

“That's right. I might even take my turn at the bouncey house Mrs. Ward said they're having. I had one at my birthday when I was a kid.”

A shadow flittered across his face. There had been no celebrations of his birthdays. He still didn't celebrate the day. It had been a bad day for all concerned.

“After we leave the party, we can drop by Patrizio's, an Italian restaurant in Uptown Village, grab a bite, and go to a movie.”

“I'll drive.”

“All right. You can pick me up at four.” Sabrina picked up her soft drink and walked away.

He'd meant he'd take his own car. He needed to stop her to explain, but as the seconds ticked by he sat there and did nothing.

*   *   *

Saturday afternoon Cade sat in Sabrina's driveway, unsure of how he'd gotten to this point. Yes, he was. He enjoyed being with Sabrina. She intrigued him. She was smart, beautiful, had horrible scars that hadn't made her bitter. If nothing else, he admired her for that reason alone.

He just had to make sure he didn't cross over the line again. He could do this. Life had stuck it to him in the past; he wasn't going to let it take the pleasure of Sabrina's friendship away.

Getting out, he went up the steps. The door opened. Sabrina came out in a green leopard-print cardigan, a matching shell, and black pants. As always, she looked pretty and happy. No one could guess the pain she'd gone though as a child.

“Hi, Cade. You decide on a gift yet?” she asked, stopping beside him on the porch.

“An American Express gift card.”

She stuck her tongue in her cheek. Obviously she was amused.

“It's practical,” he defended.

She looped her arm through his. “Cade, my birthday is in November and if you decide to get me a gift, I just want you to know that I'm not a practical kind of girl.”

“I'd already figured that out.”

“Good. Let's go have fun.”

*   *   *

Sabrina thought Cade might loosen up once he was around the other people, but he never did. He kept himself apart. It was almost as if he expected them to reject him. She thought more and more of his childhood. He wasn't on an ego trip, he cared about his patients, but who cared about him? She was determined that she'd show him that she cared.

When Mr. Ward herded everyone back into the house for ice cream and cake and opening the presents, she held Cade back.

“Have you ever been in a bouncey house?” Sabrina nodded toward the inflatable contraption in the shape of a clown.

“No.” He glanced at his watch. “I think we can leave now.”

“I'd say you were long overdue. Let's go give it a try.”

Cade pulled back. “You can't be serious?”