A Family For Tory And A Mother For Cindy. Margaret Daley

the second her head hit the pillow.”

      “Belle is special to Mindy.”

      “The stuffed one as well as the real one.” He stretched his legs out in front and crossed them at the ankles. “I don’t know about you, but when my head hits the pillow, I’ll be asleep.”

      Sleep? She didn’t know if she could right now with Slade only a wall away from her. When she had accepted his proposal, she hadn’t really thought about the sleeping arrangement. Even though he didn’t share her bedroom, they shared a small house. She’d avoided any kind of level of intimacy for so long she wasn’t sure how to share one bathroom, the same living quarters, even the kitchen first thing in the morning.

      “It has been a long day,” she finally said, his silence indicating he expected her to say something. She unfolded her legs and swung them to the floor. Standing, she rolled her shoulders and worked out the kinks.

      When he rose, too, the small porch suddenly became smaller. She could definitely smell his aftershave as the scent surrounded her. The distance between them was less than an arm’s length. If she wanted, she could reach out and touch him easily. In the dim light from inside the house she could see his handsome features, marked with uncertainty and tenderness.

      He quirked a smile. “I realize this is a bit awkward.”

      “A little.” When his smile grew, she said, “Okay, a lot.”

      He shifted closer, linking his hand with hers. “We’ll make this work.”

      “For Mindy.”

      “For us, Tory.”

      His voice, pitched low, flowed over her. She shivered in the warm, June night. His hand slid up her arm, sending a cascade of chills down it. He moved even closer until there was only a breath between them. Cupping her face with his other hand, he stared into her eyes as though trying to read what was in her soul.

      Exhausted from the long day and the emotional treadmill she’d been on, Tory melted against him, her legs giving out. He tilted her chin up, pausing for a few seconds before bringing his mouth down on hers. The mating of their lips wasn’t like the quick peck at the end of the wedding ceremony; it was a blending of breaths and parrying of tongues. Weak with sensations foreign to her, Tory welcomed the taste of him—until he wound his arms about her, pressing her closer.

      Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Panic eroded her composure, prodding her heart to crash against her rib cage. She shoved him away, gasping for air. His startled expression rendered her speechless. She pushed past him, taking the steps two at a time.

      The pounding of her bare feet on the cool grass matched the pounding of her pulse. She saw the one light on in the barn and headed for it. Inside she stopped, bending over and drawing gulps of air into her burning lungs.

      How in the world had she thought she was ready for this?

      What must Slade think? Her husband had kissed her and she had fallen apart. She wrapped her arms around herself and walked toward the back of the barn. Opening the door, she stood staring at the pasture beyond, the moonlight streaming down in a crystal clear sky. The scent of hay and horses saturated the air, a familiar scent that usually comforted her. Except that her heart beat rapidly and she couldn’t get a decent breath.

      “Tory, what just happened back there?”