Diana Palmer - Renegade

He searched her eyes. “Lesson One, Page One, Hand-holding,” he whispered as Rory paused to look in a store window.

She laughed breathlessly. It sounded like silver bells.

THE DAY SPENT SIGHTSEEING with Cash was, Tippy thought later, one of the best days of her entire life. He seemed to know New York like the back of his hand, and he enjoyed sharing little-known bits of history with Tippy and Rory.

“How do you know so much about this place?” Rory wanted to know when they were back in Tippy’s apartment that evening.

“My best friend in basic training was from New York City,” he confided. “He was a gold mine of information!”

Tippy laughed. “I have a friend who’s like that about Nassau,” she said. “She’s on a modeling trip now, to Russia, of all places.”

“What is she modeling?”

Tippy gave him a mischievous look. “Swimsuits.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not! The powers that be thought it would be sexy to have her pose with the Kremlin in the back ground, wearing fur boots and a fur coat.”

“She’ll be pickled if she does that here, won’t she?” he asked.

“It’s fake fur,” she pointed out, laughing. “But it’s very expensive fake fur, and it looks real.”

“How about a sandwich, Cash?” Rory called from the kitchen.

“Not for me, thanks, Rory. I’m going back to my hotel to unwind,” he added with a smile. “I had a great time today.”

“So did I, Cash,” Rory said sincerely. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“Are you?” Tippy echoed.

He glanced from Rory’s curious expression to Tippy’s radiant one. “Why not?” he mused, smiling. “I can stand a tour of the museums if you can.”

“I love museums!” Rory enthused.

“As long as I don’t have to pose in one.” Tippy sighed. “I have terrible emotional scars from posing with one leg up, leaning back, in front of a Rodin sculpture for four hours.”

“I wonder if it’s the one I’m thinking of?” Cash drawled, chuckling when her cheeks went pink.

“I’m sure it was one that contained totally clothed people,” she lied.

He shook his head. “You wish,” he said. “What time do you people get up on a holiday week?”

“Eight,” Rory said.

Tippy nodded. “We’re not big on late nights around here. One of us is used to military routine, which be gins at daylight, and the other one has to get up before daylight to work on films,” she said, tongue in cheek.

“Eight it is, then. I know where there’s a bakery,” he told them. “They have homemade cinnamon buns, bear claws, filled doughnuts…”

“I can’t have sweets,” Rory replied sadly. He pointed at Tippy. “She has no willpower. If something sweet comes in the door, it will never leave.”

Tippy laughed delightedly. “He’s right. I’ve spent most of my life fighting excess pounds. We have bacon and eggs for breakfast. Pure protein. No bread.”

“Shades of basic training.” He sighed. “Okay. Can we have breakfast here? But you’d better make coffee,” he added sternly. “I am not having breakfast without coffee, even if that means bringing it in a sippy cup.”

“A sippy cup?” Tippy teased.

“I look sexy holding a sippy cup,” he replied, and the smile on his lips was a genuine one. It had been a long time since he’d smiled at a woman and meant it. Well, except for Christabel Gaines. But she was married to his best friend now.

“Well, I’m having a sandwich before I go to bed,” Rory called. “Good night, Cash! See you tomorrow!”

“That’s a deal,” Cash called back.

He caught Tippy’s soft hand in his and tugged her to the door with him. “I’ll check and see if there’s anything good at the opera or the ballet, if you’d like…”

“I love either one,” she exclaimed.

“Symphony orchestras?” he asked, testing.

She nodded enthusiastically.

“I guess it won’t kill me to wear a suit,” he sighed.

“You took Christabel Gaines to a ballet in Houston, I recall,” she said, with just a hint of jealousy that she couldn’t disguise.

It surprised him. His dark eyes probed her light ones until she moved restlessly under the intensity of the gaze. “Christabel Dunn, these days. And, yes, I did. She’d never been to one in her life.”

“I thought she was a spoiled little princess,” Tippy commented. “I was wrong all the way down the line. She’s a very special woman. Judd’s lucky.”

“Yes, he is,” he had to agree. Christabel was still a sore spot with him. “They dote on the twins.”

“Babies are nice,” she said. “Rory was precious even at the age of four.” She smiled wistfully. “Every day’s an adventure with a child.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

She looked up, surprised by the expression on his lean, hard face.

He averted his eyes. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He let go of her hand and left her standing. She divined that something in his past had wounded him deeply, something to do with children. Judd had told her that he thought Cash had been married once, but no more than that. He was a puzzle. But he appealed to her in ways no other man ever had.

CASH ARRIVED AT EIGHT SHARP the next morning, carrying a silvertone coffee holder in one hand and a paper sack in the other.

“I made coffee,” she said quickly.

He lifted the holder. “Vanilla cappuccino,” he said, waving it under her nose. “My only real weakness. Well, except for these,” he waved the sack.

“What’s in there?” Tippy asked, following him to the breakfast table she’d already set, where Rory was waiting to start eating.

“Cheese Danishes,” he said. “Sorry. I can’t give up sugar. I think it’s one of the four major food groups, along with chocolate and ice cream and pizza.”

Rory burst out laughing. So did Tippy.

“Amazing,” she said, giving his powerful body a lingering scrutiny. “You don’t look as if you’ve ever tasted fat or sugar in your life.”

“I work out every day,” he confided. “I have to. Those uniforms are sewn on us, you know,” he added deadpan, “to emphasize what nice muscles we have.”

Her eyes glanced off his biceps, very noticeable in the knit shirt he was wearing with dark slacks, as he swung his black leather jacket onto an easy chair on his way to the kitchen.

“No comment?” he taunted.

She sighed. “I was just noticing the muscles,” she murmured dryly.

Rory had excused himself to go to the bathroom. Cash caught Tippy’s long skirt and pulled her close to his chair. “If you play your cards right, I just might take my shirt off for you one day,” he purred.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or protest. He was so unpredictable.

“Not right away, of course,” he added. “I’m not that kind of man!”

Now she did laugh. Her eyes lit up, sparkling like emeralds. He grinned, too. “Here. Have a cheese Danish. I brought enough for all of us.”

She reached down into the bag, very aware of his dark eyes on her face.

“Your skin is beautiful, even without makeup,” he noted deeply. “It looks like silk.”

Her head turned. She met his eyes evenly and her heart jumped. He was very sexy.

“What are you thinking?” he murmured.

“I’ll bet you know everything there is to know about women,” she confessed huskily.

His eyes narrowed. “And you know next to nothing about men.”

Her eyes misted. “I haven’t wanted to,” she said softly. Her gaze fell to his wide, chiseled mouth.

“Careful,” he said quietly. “I’ve kept to myself for a long time.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” she whispered daringly, meeting his searching gaze. “I wish…oh, I wish!”