The Parks Empire: Secrets, Lies and Loves: Romancing the Enemy

“That was part of it,” she admitted.

She stared into the darkness as despair returned. The burden of caring for her mom had fallen on her. Kathleen couldn’t deal with illness. Or anything else, if she didn’t want to. Her sister had been spoiled, but Sara knew it was partly her fault. It had been easier to do everything herself than cajole the other girl into helping.

It had been the same with Conrad. Tyler had taken on the responsibilities of the man of the house as he grew older. Between the two of them, she and Tyler had made most of the decisions involving their family. They had grown close because of it.

“Here we are,” Cade said, breaking into her musing. “Stacy’s asleep. I’ll carry her inside.”

“I can help,” Sara volunteered.

She opened doors so Cade could carry his daughter inside. In the child’s bedroom, Sara watched as he slipped Stacy’s coat and shoes off. The child had come dressed in pajamas beforehand. Leaning down, he kissed the smooth forehead and pulled the covers up. He was the most caring man Sara had ever met.

She moved back from the doorway when Cade stepped into the hall and closed the door.

“How about a cup of coffee?” he asked.

She hesitated. It was close to midnight. A dangerous hour. “All right,” she heard herself say and was surprised. She hadn’t meant to say that at all.

Downstairs she stood at the kitchen counter which, as in her place, divided it from the hall that connected the living quarters. Cade’s town house was much less formal than the one she was in. The walls were sunny yellow in the den, a soft doeskin beige in the kitchen and dining room.

The furniture was old and comfortable. She suspected some of the pieces were antiques. If so, they had been restored to prime condition by an expert hand.

“My brother Rowan refinished that piece and gave it to me and Rita as a wedding gift,” Cade said, seeing her gaze on a maple secretary with inlaid rosewood.

“It’s lovely.”

“It was a surprise,” Cade said, his expression rather thoughtful. “I didn’t know he knew oak from pine at the time. Now he works as a carpenter and furniture maker.”

“People can amaze you,” she murmured, thinking of her mother and her secrets.

“There you go again,” Cade said softly. “Looking sad,” he added when she glanced his way.

“I’m not sad at all,” she quickly told him and smiled to prove it.

He said nothing further, but his glance was skeptical. She really had to be more careful of her emotions around him. He saw too much.

When the decaffeinated coffee was ready, they carried the mugs into the den. He turned on the gas long enough to start the wood so they could have a fire.

“You have real logs,” she said.

“Yes. I buy a cord from the Boy Scouts each year. For twenty bucks extra, they stack it in the garage, so it’s a good deal.”

She nodded. “I’ve wondered what the artist was hiding in his garage. The inside door is locked with a dead bolt, which I don’t have a key for.”

“Nothing sinister,” Cade assured her. “He stores art treasures there until he can move them to his gallery, which is where he sells his paintings as well as imported art.”

“I see.”

Sara was aware of the silence surrounding them as they watched the flames, each on an opposite end of the sofa. Cade set his mug on the coffee table, then turned so that he leaned into the corner, facing her.

“Sara,” he said and took the mug from her trembling hands and set it aside.

Sparks shot along her nerves at the husky tone. She cleared her throat. “Yes?”

He slid along the sofa until he could hook a finger under her chin and turn her face to his. “Just…this,” he murmured. Then he kissed her.

His lips were warm and mobile over hers, his touch firm but gentle, filling her with a vast yearning for things that could never be, not between them.

Quick, hot tears pressed behind her closed eyes, forlorn, useless tears, for all the years and all the sorrows that stood between her and this man. One slipped over her lashes and wended down her cheek.

Laying her hands on his chest, she pressed slightly.

“What bothers you so?” he asked, a puzzled frown forming on his face as he caught the tear on a finger. “Is it me? Or something from your past? Or from our past when we knew each other as children?”

All of the above.

But she didn’t say that. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed.” She tried to smile but her mouth trembled too much. She pressed her lips together.

“Why?” He bent his head slightly in order to study the expression in her eyes. “Why has it been a long time since you’ve been kissed?”

She looked away, staring into the flames until she was sure the words would come. “This time last year I went to a party. With my fiancé.”

Cade’s face disclosed no reaction to her words. “And?”

“We had a quarrel, and he…drove home alone while I had a friend drop me off.”

When she paused, Cade nodded and told her to go on.

“He was drinking and I thought he shouldn’t drive, but he wouldn’t listen, so I…I let him go. He had an accident and…and…”

“He died?” Cade said, supplying the ending to her story.

“Yes. Luckily no other cars were involved. He wasn’t found until around noon the next day. He’d gone off an embankment and the car wasn’t visible from the road. A man and his son trying to get to the river to fish happened to see the tire tracks. They found him, but it was too late.”

“I’m sorry,” Cade said.

He slid his hands into her hair at each temple and held her. He kissed her eyes, each cheek, then the corner of her mouth. Each touch was unbearably tender.

“I should have called the police, or at least threatened to. Maybe he would have listened then. But I didn’t. I was angry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He licked away the tears that seeped from beneath her closed lashes. “It wasn’t,” he insisted when she tried to tell him it was. “We make choices. Sometimes they’re the wrong ones. Each person is responsible for his or her decisions, not someone else’s.”

He kissed her again, angling across her mouth, seeking greater contact. She pulled away. “You don’t know,” she whispered. “You don’t know.”

“I do. My wife’s car went over a cliff two years ago. I was relieved that she was gone. I felt guilty as hell for feeling that way. I still do. But we have to go on,” he added on a gentler note. “You were wise to move here.”

“Wise?” she questioned, staring into his eyes and wondering why he thought that.

“You’ve had two tragedies to cope with this past year. Leaving Denver means you’re ready to get on with your life. Stacy and I are very lucky that you decided to come to California.”