Marie Ferrarella - The Parks Empire - Secrets, Lies and Loves

And there was another problem.

She hadn’t counted on being physically attracted to him. He was tall, probably eight inches above her own five foot six. He wore his dark-brown hair rather short as befitted an attorney. He looked great in three-piece suits or in jeans, T-shirt and a green corduroy long-sleeved shirt, which was what he was wearing now.

There was a seriousness about him that inspired confidence, yet his smiles were quick and frequent, especially in dealing with young Stacy. He had a world of patience, yet he could be firm when necessary.

Maybe she should ask Tyler what the contingency plan was if either of them fell head over heels for someone in the Parks family. What then, little brother? she mentally asked with a heavy dose of irony. She couldn’t come up with an answer on the short ride to Twin Peaks.

Deep twilight had fallen when Cade stopped by a parking space at the observation point, and the youth who sat there in a lawn chair moved so he could pull in.

“Nothing like having friends in high places,” Sara murmured.

“Nothing like having a secretary whose son will do nearly anything for money. He’s saving for his first car.”

“When will the fireworks start?” Stacy demanded. She unbuckled the seat belt and stood leaning over the front seat between her father and Sara.

“Soon,” Cade promised. He glanced at Sara. “Each city along the bay schedules their Fourth of July display one after the other. We’ll see at least three different shows from here.”

“Mmm, there’ll be a lot of tired teachers in school tomorrow,” she said. “We have a week of training and orientation before the students arrive.”

Cade frowned. “I’m not sure I like this year-round school idea. Or the idea of moving kids up from the day care center to kindergarten on an irregular schedule.”

“They’re moved when the tests show they’re ready. Otherwise, they get bored and decide school is no fun.”

“Back in my day, no one thought it was supposed to be fun. It was for learning. Or else,” he added ominously.

“Yes, but that was in the olden days,” Sara said tongue-in-cheek. “Things are different in modern times.”

He burst out laughing. “That’ll teach me to refer to my kindergarten days. But let me remind you—you were in the same class as I was.”

“Daddy, are you as old as Sara?” Stacy wanted to know.

“Miss Carlton,” he corrected. “Yes, we’re both as ancient as the hills.”

The girl thought this was extremely funny. Cade glanced at Sara, his eyes alight with amusement. They shared a smile. It was on this humorous note that the fireworks began. They exclaimed over the brilliant exhibitions and argued about which city had the best shots while munching on the homemade cookies Stacy and her dad had made.

Sara sighed contentedly on the way back to the house.

“Tired?” Cade asked, picking up on the sound.

“Yes, but pleasantly so,” she said. “I haven’t paid much attention to holiday celebrations for the last couple of years.”

“Because of your mother’s illness?” he asked softly, his tone sympathetic.

“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?”