“SO YOUR DAD WAS RIGHT,” Craig said grimly as Kate and Sam moved apart and Kate pressed a hand to her damp, tingling lips. Craig looked at Sam, venom in his eyes, his hands balled into fists. “You were out to steal my girl all along.”
“That’s not the way it happened,” Kate said anxiously, moving to step between them.
“Then what the hell would you call this?” Craig sneered as he pushed past her and went nose to nose with Sam.
“None of your business,” Kate warned firmly, desperate to do or say whatever she needed to, to prevent violence from erupting between the two men, “since the two of us are no longer engaged.”
“And what about you, McCabe?” Craig grabbed Sam by the shirt. “You may have been kissing Kate, but I don’t hear you making any great pronouncements of love here.”
Looking as though it was taking every ounce of self-control he had to not react in kind, Sam clenched his jaw and said, “Why don’t you and I just take this outside?”
“The hell we will,” Craig said. He charged at Sam, like a bull, plowing into him headfirst and knocking him backward into the table. It crashed into the wall as Kate hurried to get out of the way. Sam swore. Craig’s fist flew, catching Sam just beneath the jaw. A second hit against him squarely in the mouth. A third caught him across the face. And then Sam was up and grabbing Craig by the front of his shirt and knocking him to the floor. They rolled, scuffling, swearing, punching.
“Stop it, both of you!” Kate screamed as a lamp hit the floor, the bulb and base shattering into a hundred tiny pieces. Sam’s mouth was bleeding, there was a jagged cut beneath his chin, and Craig had a nasty cut across his cheekbone.
As they struggled to get up, her phone began to ring. “Get out. Both of you. Now!” she said. With a warning look at each of them, Kate went to answer it. “Hello?” She braced herself for the inevitable complaint about the noise. But it wasn’t one of her neighbors. It was her mother…
“WHAT HAPPENED?” Kate asked her mother as she rushed into the emergency entrance at Laramie Community hospital. Joyce was wearing slacks and a sweater. Her hair was a mess, her face ashen and streaked with tears. The only time Kate had seen her look more disheveled and upset was the night Pete had died.
“They think your father had a heart attack.”
A chill went through Kate, followed by a sharp stab of fear. The scene at her apartment forgotten, she led her mother over to a chair and pushed her into it. “When?”
A fresh flood of tears flowed down Joyce’s face. “He woke up with chest pains about half an hour ago. His whole arm was numb and he was so pale and sweaty. I phoned Luke Carrigan right away and he called the ambulance. Oh, Kate…” Joyce grabbed Kate’s hand and squeezed it like someone in extreme pain as she broke down in sobs. “What are we going to do if something happens to your father?”
Kate wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders. She felt as though she were caught in a nightmare from which she’d never waken. “Nothing’s going to happen to him, Mom,” Kate said calmly, willing it to be true.
“You didn’t see him. His face was such an awful color and he was in such terrible pain.” Joyce burst into tears all over again.
Fighting back sobs, Kate wrapped her mother in her arms and held her while she cried. She tried her hardest to be strong, to be calm. But before Kate knew it, she was crying, too.
“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME happened to you?” Jackson McCabe demanded after Sam had routed him and his pretty wife, Lacey, out of bed.
“Can the lectures,” Sam warned his cousin, still pressing the bloody towel to his mouth and chin, trying to not notice that it looked as if he had interrupted some hot-and-heavy lovemaking. “And just stitch me up.”
Jackson ushered him in, still staring at him as if Sam were some alien who had just landed on his doorstep in the middle of the night. “Have you been fighting?” he asked incredulous.
Sam grimaced from the pain radiating up through his chin. He hadn’t been in a brawl since—he didn’t remember when. High school? Junior high? “Either that or I walked into a door, chin-first.” Sam didn’t even want to think how much fun it was going to be trying to explain this to his sons, their new housekeeper Mrs. Roundtree and the people who worked for him.
Jackson led him into the kitchen and, hand to his shoulder, guided him into a chair. Carefully he pried the pale pink towel, with the KJM monogram, out of Sam’s hands. “Let me see. Man. What do you think, Lacey?”
Lacey had already retrieved Jackson’s medical bag. At Jackson’s behest, she tilted her head for a better look. “Seven stitches?”
“Maybe eight,” Jackson decided as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and ripped open a package of sterile gauze to apply to the wound. “Not exactly the look for a CEO of one of the hottest young companies in Dallas.”
Sam glared at him as Lacey filled a syringe.
“Why didn’t you go to the emergency room?” Jackson asked as he gave Sam a shot that quickly and blissfully numbed his chin.
Sam scowled at Jackson and leaned his head back the way his cousin directed. “Because you’re like a brother to me and you’ll do it for free.”
“Yeah, but I’m not a plastic surgeon…” Jackson countered as Lacey slid some clean towels beneath Sam’s chin and he irrigated the wound.
“You’re a general surgeon, which is plenty good enough, and if you couldn’t do it, I figure Lacey could. As a pediatrician, she’s probably had plenty of practice stitching people up.”
“True.” Lacey grinned, preparing the sutures. She slanted Sam an amused glance. “Although most were far younger than you. So, what happened?” she continued curiously. “Or are you determined not to tell us?”
“Obviously he was in a fight,” Jackson said. “The question is with whom.”
Lacey tensed. “Not one of your kids, I hope.”
“Nope.” Sam winced as Jackson began to stitch him up. He couldn’t feel much, but he could see it, and for some reason, that disturbed him. Sam closed his eyes. “Although I wouldn’t blame them if one of them had taken a swing at me, the way I was neglecting them earlier.”
Jackson sighed. “Glad you finally owned up to that.”
Sam opened his eyes, wanting them both to understand this much. “God knows it wasn’t deliberate. I just was so deep in my grief…” If it hadn’t been for Kate, charging in, waking him up despite his resistance, demanding he change…
“I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Lacey said, touching his shoulder sympathetically. “I lost my dad as a kid, and my mom and I had a hard time communicating for a while after. Not because we didn’t love each other, but because we did.”
“Things seem a lot better now, though,” Jackson said. Finished with the suturing, he applied a thin layer of antibiotic cream, then a bandage. “The kids all looked happy at the party for Craig and Kate tonight.”
Sam nodded. He sat up slowly, aware he felt a little woozy. “They are a lot happier since Kate came into their lives.”
“What about you?” Jackson asked, ripping off his latex gloves. He sent Sam a knowing look as he put them and the used medical supplies aside. “Are you happier, too?”
“Jackson…” Lacey warned as she went to the fridge.
Grinning mischievously all the while, Jackson shrugged. “I’ve got a right to find out what happened. After all, I got hauled out of bed in the middle of the night to stitch this guy up. With not an explanation to be found. Not that I really need one. It’s perfectly obvious who hauled off and punched Sam a good one. One can only hope Craig Farrell didn’t get in the only punch. And what kind of shape is he in, might I ask?”
Sam grimaced. “He’s got a cut on one cheek, maybe a bruise under one eye, but nothing that’s going to need medical treatment.”
Jackson looked disappointed as he concluded, “So you went easy on him.”
Sam shrugged, admitting, “I didn’t want to hit the guy at all, but after he bloodied my mouth and split open my chin…well, someone had to end it, and it’s clear it wasn’t going to be Kate.”
Too late, he realized he should have omitted that detail in his storytelling.
Lacey’s eyes widened with interest as she handed Sam a glass of apple juice. “She was there, too?”
Sam sipped. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Jackson pulled up a chair and sank into it backward. “Where did this brawl take place?”
Sam figured he might as well spill it all. He needed to talk to someone about what happened. And despite the ribbing he was taking, he knew he could trust Jackson and Lacey to be discreet. “Her apartment.”
Jackson shot Lacey an I-told-you-so look. “And what were you doing there, dear cousin?”
Sam took another sip of juice and sighed, glad the wooziness was beginning to pass. “Checking up on Kate to see if she was okay.”
Lacey frowned as she sat, too. “Why wouldn’t she have been?”
“Because she told me she was going to end things with Craig as soon as he got back to Texas,” Sam admitted. “And I was worried Farrell would not take it so well.”
“Obviously, he didn’t,” Jackson said, deadpan.
“So it’s true,” Lacey mused with another look at her husband before turning back to Sam. “There is something going on between you and Kate.”
Sam tensed and put his glass aside. “Who said there was?”
“Just about everyone who’s seen you together recently.”
Sam released a baffled breath. “I don’t know where they’d get that idea. Because we never… It’s not as if people saw us holding hands or something…”
“You don’t have to hold hands with someone to look at them like you’re in love with them,” Lacey said gently. “Which is exactly the way you were looking at Kate tonight when she was with Craig. Everyone at the party noticed.”
Sam sighed. Swore. Ran a hand through his hair.
“Are you in love with her?” Jackson asked.
Sam hung his head and studied the pattern on the floor. “I don’t know,” he said. Part of him wanted to be. The other part still felt as though he’d never love anyone the way he had once loved Ellie. And he knew that wasn’t fair. And yet at the same time, he couldn’t bear being apart from Kate. Couldn’t bear to see her with anyone else. Couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms again.
Jackson scowled his disapproval. “This isn’t good, cousin. Kate Marten just broke up with her fiancé on account of you.”
Sam lifted his head, determined to set the record straight about this much. “She broke it off because they weren’t right for each other.”
“And you had nothing to do with it.” Jackson didn’t believe that for a second. Nor did Lacey.
Sam was silent. They were right. He’d had everything to do with it. Had he talked Kate into staying with Craig, forgiving him…had he simply walked away from her…maybe Kate would have changed her mind and the two of them would be together now. But he hadn’t. He had encouraged her to leave the bastard. But, damn it, she deserved better.
“Well, if you weren’t in trouble before, you’re in one hell of a mess now,” Jackson said cheerfully. “Because come tomorrow morning, when people get a look at you and Craig, and find out he and Kate broke up, there’s not one person in Laramie who is not going to be talking about this. Hell, given your status in the business community, you’ll be lucky if it doesn’t make the gossip columns in the Dallas papers.”
Bad publicity, gossip, Sam could handle. It was tragedy he was worried about. The fear that this time Coach Mike Marten was not going to walk away from his neglected health problems unscathed.
“That’s the least of our worries right now,” Sam said, consulting his watch. Briefly, he explained about the phone call Kate had gotten, her insistence she go to the hospital alone, without Sam or Craig. Figuring enough time had elapsed for an assessment and diagnosis to be made, Sam said, “I need one more favor. I need you to call over there and find out how Coach Marten is doing…if there’s anything Kate and Joyce need. And then I need to make sure you get it to them.”
He would have done it himself, but Kate had insisted that the best thing both Sam and Craig could do was stay away. And they’d had no choice, under the circumstances, but to agree.
IT WAS FIVE O’CLOCK in the morning before the tests had been completed, her father stabilized, and his cardiologist, Dr. Fletcher, came to talk to them. “Mike had a heart attack tonight. He’s been moved to CCU—the coronary care unit—and we’re going to have to keep him there until he’s strong enough to have surgery.”
“Will we be able to see him?” Kate asked.
“You can go in for short periods—maybe five minutes or so—no more than once every hour. And no stress when you do talk to him. Don’t be telling him that the car broke down or the house went up in smoke or anything else that might be upsetting to him. By the same token, don’t project any worries you might have about the surgery on him. He needs you to be cheerful, calm and optimistic. Everything else can wait until he has recovered. Got it?”
Kate and her mother nodded.
“Any more questions?” Dr. Fletcher asked with a reassuring smile.
“Yes,” Joyce said, still clutching Kate’s hand tightly. She took a wavering breath and looked Dr. Fletcher in the eye. “Just how dangerous is this surgery?”
The unchecked optimism on Dr. Fletcher’s face faded to be replaced with a realism that was, in a way, almost as frightening as Mike’s heart attack had been. “There are risks inherent with any surgery,” he told them seriously, “and we’ll go over those with you in depth a little later. But he’s a relatively young, very strong man with a fierce will to live, and that will count for a lot.”
It would have to, Kate thought, tearing up as her mother broke down and began to cry again. Because she and her mom couldn’t lose her dad, too. They just couldn’t.
AS NEWS of Coach Marten’s heart attack spread, people began stopping by the CCU waiting room, to talk to Kate and her mother and see if there was anything they could do for them. For the most part there wasn’t—at least at that point—but Kate did talk Joyce into letting Lilah McCabe take her home for a shower and some sleep.
And it was at that point, when the waiting room had finally cleared out of all but Kate, that Craig showed up.
He was in civilian clothes this time. In jeans and a short-sleeved sport shirt, a cut on his bruised cheek, he looked more like the caring and thoughtful college kid she had once thought she loved than the cocky, self-absorbed military pilot he had become. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
Kate knew he was. No matter what had happened between her and Craig, Craig had always been good to her dad and vice versa. She had no doubt the two of them loved each other the way a father-in-law and son-in-law should. But they were no longer going to be related by marriage. Kate couldn’t—wouldn’t—pretend to Craig that they ever would.
Craig looked away a long moment. He was still hurt, but he also understood she was not going to budge. “What are we going to tell people?” he eventually asked.
Kate shook her head, aware she had never felt so unbearably weary in her life. “That we both wish it had ended some other way but that we’re still going to be friends.” At least, she hoped that was the case.
Craig’s jaw tightened. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” Kate took his hands in hers and waited until he faced her. “You were a lousy fiancé to me, Craig. But you were a great friend. We just never should have tried to be anything but pals.” Kate let go of his hands and sat back.
Craig sighed. “Maybe you’re right about that.”
Silence fell between them, less awkward now. Craig looked over at her, “Have you told your folks what happened?”
“No. And I can’t until my dad has recovered from his surgery to be able to handle the news. His doctor said absolutely no stress.”
“WHERE’S CRAIG?” Joyce asked around suppertime when she returned to the hospital. In a sky-blue dress, jewelry and heels, she looked strikingly pretty and a lot more composed. Both were good signs, in Kate’s opinion. Her mom was pulling it together.
“He was here earlier, Mom, while you were home sleeping,” Kate told her gently. “He and I went in to see Dad, briefly, before he went on to Corpus Christi to see his folks.”
Joyce settled into a chair and pulled her needlepoint from her bag. “Will he be here for the surgery?”
“I’m not sure.” Kate pretended to concentrate on the magazine she’d been reading. “He might have to go back to Italy straight from Corpus Christi.”
Joyce stopped threading her needle and looked over at Kate. “Just tell me what’s going on, Kate. Don’t make me drag it out of you.”
“Craig and I called off our engagement.”
Joyce was silent, thinking. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”
Kate nodded, relieved to finally be able to tell her mother the truth. “Very sure,” she said softly.
“Is Sam McCabe the reason?”
Kate flushed self-consciously at her mother’s unabashedly interested look. “We’re not seeing each other, Mom. I’m not even working there anymore.”
Joyce let her hands fall to her lap. “That’s not what I asked. Do you have feelings for Sam? Does he have feelings for you?”
“I don’t know,” Kate said. They had passion unlike anything she had ever felt. She wanted to be with him. And it was clear, from the way he had come after her last night, twice, that he wanted to be with her. But beyond that…
“How is Craig taking this?” Joyce asked, still studying the confusion on Kate’s face.
Kate shrugged. “He doesn’t like it, but he understands it’s for the best, and wants to try to be friends again when things cool down.”
Joyce nodded approvingly. She began to sew with slow, steady strokes. “Your father would like that.”
“I know.”
“I’m not sure he’ll like you hooking up with Sam,” Joyce continued.
Kate sighed. “I know.”
“LOOKING GOOD, DAD.” Kate breezed into the room with a bouquet of sports magazines in her arms. She winked at her mother, who was sitting in a chair beside Mike’s bed, holding hands with her husband, then bent to kiss them both hello, and get kisses back in return.
Mike Marten grinned, watching as Kate pulled up a chair and perched beside her mom and dad. “I’ll tell you one thing. It feels damn good to finally get out of the CCU and into a regular room.”
Kate was happy about that, too. For the first day or so after coming through his heart surgery, her dad had been intubated and unable to speak. It had been frightening to see him that way, hooked up to all the machines, barely able to communicate, and not even able to breathe on his own. But then things had begun to improve, just the way the doctors had predicted they would. The doctors had been so pleased with her dad’s progress that on the second post-op day they had extubated him. And on the third morning, they had moved him to a monitored bed. He still had heart monitors attached to his chest, a nasal oxygen tube to help him breathe and an IV attached to his arm, but he was no longer in critical condition and for that reason they were all very happy.
“Dr. Fletcher and Dr. Carrigan were just in. John McCabe and his son Jackson stopped by, too. They all said your dad is doing great,” Joyce reported.
Mike grinned. “They’re even going to let me get up and walk a little tomorrow.”
“Way to go, Dad,” Kate said, impressed but not surprised about the determined way her father was going about his recovery.
Mike turned to Joyce. He lifted their entwined hands to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Why don’t you go on home tonight, and sleep in your own bed? You look awfully tired.”
Kate agreed there. Her mom had barely left the hospital since Mike had suffered his heart attack. Joyce was so afraid something would happen to Mike if she wasn’t there, it was a struggle to get her to sleep or eat. Kate knew how her mom felt. She harbored the same misgivings herself. But she also knew that being there wouldn’t stop anything bad from happening, and that they needed to stay strong and healthy so they’d be able to take care of her father once they got him home again.
“I’ll be here, Mom.”
“But just until Gus and John McCabe arrive,” Mike stipulated, checking his watch. “Then I’m kicking you out, and watching the first ‘Monday Night Football’ of the season with my pals. No women allowed.”
“Who’s playing?” Kate asked, glad to see her dad returning to his old bossy, irascible self.
“Dallas and Denver, in Colorado. It’s the first preseason game and it looks to be a good one, so we don’t want any chatter about sewing or fashion going on while we’re trying to watch the game.”
“Did your cardiologist say this was okay?” Joyce asked, frowning.
Mike nodded. “Dr. Fletcher not only approved it, he said he might stop by and catch some of it with us.”
“Well, then, I guess I will go home.” Satisfied, Joyce stood and kissed Mike tenderly on the cheek. “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning. Anything you want me to bring you?”
“Yeah. Some of your home-cooking,” Mike replied with a lusty appetite that seemed to encompass more than food as he looked lovingly at his wife. “This hospital food is for the birds. How they can expect a man to get his strength back on salt-free, fat-free broth, and Jell-O, I sure as hell don’t know.”
Joyce rolled her eyes at Mike’s good-natured but heartfelt complaining. “You know very well they’re switching you over to a soft diet tomorrow morning.”
“I can’t wait.” Mike smiled sickly with anticipation. “Cooked cereal and salt-free, gravy-free mashed potatoes. Yum.”
“Behave yourself,” Joyce admonished affectionately. It took another five minutes of chitchat and warnings and tender kisses for that to happen before Joyce finally headed out the door. After she had gone, Kate took the chair her mom had vacated next to her dad’s bed. She looked over at him fondly, hardly able to believe how swiftly he was recovering. “Your color is so much better tonight, Dad.”
“I feel better, too.” He switched off the TV, then turned to her. “So, tell me, how are you?”
“I’m fine,” Kate said automatically. Especially now that I know you’re going to be okay.
“And Craig?” Mike shot a pointed look at Kate. “How is he?”
Suddenly aware she was no longer wearing her engagement ring, which was stupid given the doctor’s orders that her father not have any stress until he had fully recovered, Kate curled her left hand into a fist and put it upside down in her lap. Damn, but she hated keeping something as important as this from her dad. She needed his blessing, his understanding, of what she’d done. “He’s fine, too,” Kate said noncommittally, recalling the doctor’s edict of absolutely no stress.
Mike nodded and continued to look at Kate intently. “Back in Italy already, hmm?”
Kate swallowed and pretended an insouciance she couldn’t begin to feel. “You know these hotshot pilots, Dad. They’re always in demand. He headed straight back to Italy from Corpus Christi.”
Mike watched her face carefully. “Craig’s a good man.”
“Yes, he is.” Despite their difficulties, Kate had never doubted that. She just hadn’t been the right woman for him, that was all.
“But it takes more than a good man, or a good woman for that matter, to build a marriage,” Mike continued meaningfully.
Kate tensed, and knowing she had to pretend another reason for the edginess she felt, propped one hand on her hip and demanded playfully, “Are you getting ready to lecture me?”
Mike narrowed his eyes at her affectionately. “Maybe,” he allowed, as if that were something she was just going to have to take. “Of course,” he teased gently, “I wouldn’t have to do that if you’d ever played on one of my teams. I impart all life’s lessons to the kids on my teams.”
Kate warmed at the love in his eyes. “So I’ve heard.”
Mike took Kate’s hand in his. “The one that’s hit home to me the most during the past few days is that you never know what’s going to happen tomorrow. In fact—” he turned and looked at Kate steadily, as if it were vitally important to him that she understand this much “—if there’s a rule of thumb, it’s that life changes when you least expect it to.”
A shiver went down Kate’s spine at the slightly fatalistic note in her father’s low tone. She froze, not sure what was happening here, just knowing she didn’t like it. “Why are you talking like this?” she asked in a voice that was less steady than she would have liked.
Mike’s gaze gentled as he looked her square in the eye. “Because,” he continued seriously, his voice rasping a little because of the oxygen tube in his nose, “it takes a hell of a lot of commitment and love to make a marriage, Kate. It’s an all-or-nothing proposition, you can’t just do it halfway. So if you don’t feel what you think you should feel, Kate…if you don’t love Craig the way you and I both know you need to love him to make this work, then you need to call this marriage off and find yourself someone you can feel this way about.”
Kate looked at the understanding in her father’s eyes. Relief poured through her as she realized he approved of what she had done. “I broke it off the night you had your heart attack.”
“I had a gut feeling that was the case. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize he wasn’t the one for you, after all.”
“But…?” Kate prodded, sensing there was more.
“This…whatever it is…with Sam McCabe has happened awfully fast,” her dad stated, concerned.
“I know that, Dad. But it feels so right.”
“Then I hope it works out for you,” Mike said. He squeezed Kate’s hand, hard, and looked deeply into her eyes. “Because I want you to have everything you deserve,” he told her emotionally. “I want you to have the kind of marriage your mom and I have.”
“I want that, too,” Kate answered hoarsely.
“Just make sure Sam can give that to you.” Mike held up a hand before she could interrupt. “I know he’s a good man, Kate. I’m through disputing that. But he’s been lonely and hurting, and so have you.”
Kate tensed as the uncertainty she’d felt earlier came back to haunt her. “You think that’s all it is, a sort of misery-loves-company thing?” Brought on by the fact Sam was missing Ellie and she was looking for a way out with Craig?
Mike shrugged. For that, he had no answers. “Time will tell.” He gave her another stern look. “Just remember your mother and I love you and support you no matter what.”
The ache in Kate’s throat grew. “I love you, too, Dad. So very much.” Tears flooded her eyes as she stood and, careful of the wires and tubes, gave her dad a hug.
“You just do what you have to do,” Mike said firmly as they pulled apart. He looked at her with such trust and confidence Kate found herself tearing up again. “When all is said and done, your heart will steer you in the right direction. If I’m sure of anything, I’m sure of that.”
THE ONLY THING Kate wanted to do was to see Sam. As it turned out, she didn’t have far to go. He was standing by the information desk in the lobby, talking to the person behind the desk, when she stepped out of the elevator. As soon as he saw her, he immediately cut short his conversation and made his way across the tile floor toward her. He looked as if he’d had as little sleep the past few days as she had; no matter, her heart leaped at the sight of him. “How’s your dad doing?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
“Much better,” Kate said, marveling at how good it felt to just be standing near Sam, absorbing his strength and the innate tenderness he tried so hard to hide. She tilted her head up, drinking in the sight of him, as she smiled and said, “In fact, he’s upstairs right now watching ‘Monday Night Football’ with Gus Barkley and John McCabe.”
Sam grinned, knowing as well as Kate what a good sign that was. At last, it seemed her dad was really and truly on the mend. They could all begin to relax. Sam slid his hand beneath her elbow and walked with her to the automatic doors. He paused to let her pass through first. “Have you had dinner yet?”
Kate turned to him as they walked to their cars. “No. You?”
“Nope.” Sam shook his head and didn’t take his eyes from her face. “Which means you’re in luck.”
“Oh, really, how’s that?” Kate asked, thinking what a relief it was to be able to flirt with Sam a little, free and clear. Your heart will steer you in the right direction, her dad had said. If I’m sure of anything, I’m sure of that.
Sam’s hand slid from her elbow to her waist as he led her over to his truck instead of her car. “You’ve been taking care of everyone else for weeks now.” He lowered his head, took her face in hand, and kissed her tenderly on the lips, in plain view of anyone who might happen by. “It’s time someone took care of you,” he told her, his dark gaze intent. “And tonight that’s exactly what I plan to do.”