Lullaby for Two / Child's Play: Lullaby for Two

He murmured something against her lips, something like, “I don’t believe this is happening.”

But then she heard nothing but the hum of the refrigerator and concentrated on the sensation of Vince’s lips on hers. He had always been an expert kisser, even at eighteen. Now, there was no finesse about the kiss, no intentional seduction. She felt his deep hunger, felt hers rise up to meet it, welcomed the invasion and sweep of his tongue in her mouth, the press of his body against hers. Old and new, familiar and different, excitement and desire mixed with the thought that what they were doing was taboo…yet she couldn’t remember why.

Suddenly, a baby’s sharp cry penetrated her pleasure. Instinctively her body shut down. She broke the kiss, and Vince pulled back.

He said gruffly, “I have to check on him.”

Of course he did, and she wanted to run into the room with him. Already she cared about this child as she did all her patients. But she stayed put as if she were glued to the spot.

Mechanically she picked up her glass, drank more orange juice and didn’t think about the kiss, didn’t revel in the lingering sensations from it, didn’t wonder why she’d let it happen.

When Vince returned, she was still standing there, counting the tiles along the back of the sink.

“He’s okay,” Vince told her. “He must have cried out in his sleep. Sometimes I wonder if he has dreams about the accident, if he’ll subconsciously remember that forever. Or if he’s so young, it will be wiped away as if it didn’t happen.”

Almost as if she had no control over her thoughts or her voice, she faced Vince. “Why didn’t you contact me after you went away?”

He didn’t seem surprised that she’d slipped back twenty years. His brows furrowed, the nerve in the hollow of his jaw worked and he replied, “You’d gone on with your life. I didn’t want to interfere with that.”

“How did you know I’d gone on with my life?”

“I still had friends back in Sagebrush. My dad was still here. You know how it is.”

She knew how it was and should have realized he’d gotten word of her comings and goings, just as she’d gotten word of his.

He stepped closer to her and rested his hands on her shoulders, sending heat through her once more. “I also didn’t want to put more of a wedge between you and your dad. I saw what it did to you when he disowned you, when he told you that you were no daughter of his. When I left, you were back in his house, back in his life. What would he have done if I’d contacted you?”

“He didn’t have to know,” she replied defiantly. If Vince had asked her to join him anywhere, she would have forgotten about college to build a life with him.

But Vince shook his head. “You never could have kept it from him. I saw how you needed your dad after the hysterectomy.”

His words tore her in two because he still didn’t understand. “I didn’t only need my dad, Vince. I needed you, too. I lost our baby and you weren’t there to talk about it. You weren’t there to…understand.”

Suddenly Vince’s house was claustrophobic. She couldn’t be in the same space he was. She couldn’t breathe. Pulling away from him, she went to the table and grabbed her bag.

“I’ll mail your shirt back to you,” she murmured and hurried to the door.

She practically ran to her car parked at the curb. She didn’t look back at the house to see if he’d followed her outside.

He wouldn’t follow her. He wouldn’t leave Sean. That’s the way it should be.

When she started the ignition and drove away, a mantra played in her mind. You can’t fall in love with him again. You can’t fall in love with him again.

On Saturday morning, Tessa slid a tea bag into a mug of hot water and absently dipped it up and down. All week she’d tried to forget about her kiss with Vince on Monday. When she concentrated on her little patients, she could pretend nothing had happened with him. But it had. She hadn’t wanted to dissect the kiss. Yet she couldn’t set it aside, lock it in a box or think around it.

Francesca, dressed in jeans and oversize T-shirt with the Family Tree symbol stamped on the front, sank onto a stool at the eat-in counter of their kitchen, looking as if she’d been up all night. Her long hair was tousled, and she wore no makeup. That was unusual. Francesca was a perfectionist about almost everything and her appearance was out of character.

“Are you okay?” Tessa asked, picking up her mug and carrying it to the table.

Francesca considered her question. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Instead of answering, Francesca slid from the stool and went to the coffee Emily had brewed before she left to go grocery shopping. She poured a mug and worried her lower lip.

“What happened?” Tessa prompted.

Her friend took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “No wonder Emily adds milk and sugar. This is strong enough for two pots.”

Turning on the faucet, she added hot water, then crossed to the stool and took a seat once more. “I went to a party last night.”

“That’s right!” Tessa remembered. “It was a reception for Kent Harris to celebrate the opening of his own law firm in Sagebrush. Do you think he snagged many clients?” If she could encourage Francesca to talk, maybe Tessa could discover what was troubling her friend.

“Possibly. There were so many people there that—” She stopped abruptly.

“What?”

Francesca stared down into her coffee.

Worried now, Tessa laid a hand on her housemate’s arm. “What’s troubling you so? Was Darren there and he wants to get back together with you again?”

The reason Francesca had moved to Sagebrush was to be with a man she’d fallen in love with. Darren was also a doctor at Family Tree. He’d met Francesca at a conference, and they’d conducted a long-distance relationship until he’d persuaded her to move to Sagebrush. She had and, for a while, their romance had stayed on an even keel. But when Francesca had moved in with Darren, she’d discovered he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. He’d taken her moving in as a commitment, the next thing to marriage, and he’d seemed to change before her eyes into the type of controlling man she’d sworn she’d never date, let alone marry.

“Nothing to do with Darren,” Francesca answered her, but then frowned. “Or…maybe it does in a roundabout way.”

She ran her hand through her straight hair and sighed. “Why is it that just when I think I’ve learned from my past, that I’ve finally broken free from the kind of abusive home I grew up in, something happens that tosses me right back there again? Before I could talk, I knew my mother was under my dad’s thumb. When I was little, I learned why when I overheard Mom confiding in a friend, telling her my dad had forced her into marriage when she’d gotten pregnant. After Darren turned out to be controlling just like my dad, I swore off relationships.”

“I know you did. In the year since you’ve broken up with him, you haven’t even gone out on a date.”

“Yeah, well, I slept with a man last night. How is that for jumping into the fire?”

Tessa saw the panicked, troubled look in Francesca’s eyes. “You used protection?”

“Oh, yes, he had a condom.” Francesca sighed again and rubbed her face, then she shook her head. “Honest to goodness, Tessa, I don’t know what happened.”

“You mean he put something in your drink, or—”

“Heavens no.”

Tessa thought it was best if Francesca started from the beginning. “Who is this man?”

“Your dad probably knew his dad. In fact, you might even know him. His name is Grady Fitzgerald. His father was a saddlemaker and now Grady’s taken over the business.”

“Sure, I know him. Vince probably knows him, too. He worked in his dad’s saddle shop when we were married, though Grady was away at school then. My dad bought my first saddle from Mr. Fitzgerald and Grady delivered it to the ranch.”

“What was Grady like?”

“From what I remember, he wasn’t a joiner. Lots of girls had a crush on him but he seemed immune. He comes from a big family. He was a good rider and that’s probably why he’s so good at saddle making. He understands what the horse and rider need to be comfortable.”