ripped through his system like napalm. It was so unexpected, so long desired. He didn’t realize his hand had tightened like a vise on her fingers, making her eyes go wide with shock. All he knew was that her lips had been on his, just for an instant.
And he couldn’t stand it.
He dragged her against him, and captured that taste again, devoured it, steeped himself in it. Warm, sweet. The shape of her mouth, that deep dip, drove him crazy. He crushed it under his, traced it with a frantic tongue, then dived deep to plunder.
His heart was thundering, wild surf against jagged rocks. His blood was racing, making his head buzz. She was everything soft and small and sweet, everything he craved, everything he cherished.
It took him several desperate moments to realize her hands were trapped between them. And she was rigid in his arms. Stunned, he let her go and leaped up in one frenzied motion.
And she stared at him, eyes dark as rain clouds, one hand lifted to lie against the mouth he’d just savaged.
That was the word for it, he thought, disgusted. Savaged.
“I’m sorry.” He was as pale now as she was flushed, and cursing himself viciously. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean to— You caught me off guard.” There was no excuse, he reminded himself, and his punishment for breaking her trust would be the losing of it. “That was way out of line, and it won’t happen again. I don’t know what I was thinking of. I have to go.”
“Devin—”
“I have to go,” he repeated, almost desperately, as he backed up. He nearly tripped over a table, decided that would have capped things off nicely. Because she hadn’t moved an inch, he was able to escape without further humiliating himself.
She listened to the door slamming behind him. No, she hadn’t moved, because she couldn’t. She didn’t think it would be wise to try to stand just yet.
What had just happened here? she asked herself. She had kissed him, thinking it was time she was able to make that friendly gesture.
Rafe kissed her all the time. When he came by the inn for something, he often kissed her, just the way she’d tried to kiss Devin. Lightly, casually. And after a while, she’d gotten used to it, and she no longer stiffened up.
Then Devin had kissed her. But he didn’t kiss like Rafe at all. No, not at all. She still had her fingers against her lips, and could still feel the heat there. No, she’d never been kissed like that before, by anyone. As if the man’s life had depended on it. She’d never imagined Devin…
Oh, but she had, she remembered, letting her unsteady hand fall into her lap. She had imagined, just the night before. Had she dreamed her way into this?
What had happened here was certainly reality. Her heart was pounding still, and her skin was hot. She’d been so shocked by what he’d done, the way he’d grabbed her, the way his mouth had covered hers, she hadn’t been able to move.
How long had it lasted? Thirty seconds, a minute? She couldn’t say, but so much had happened inside her. She was still shaky from it.
He’d been sorry. Of course he had, she thought, and leaned back, closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. It had just been some sort of spontaneous reaction. A male reaction. Then he’d found her lacking and let her go. Apologized. He was a good and honorable man, and he’d apologized for doing something he hadn’t really meant to do.
It was just a kiss, she reminded herself, but had to press a hand to her jittery stomach. Now she’d spoiled things, because she hadn’t been able to shrug it off, or laugh it off like a normal woman. Any more than she’d been able to respond to him and make him want to kiss her again.
She would make an effort, Cassie ordered herself, to behave as though nothing had happened. The very next time she saw him, she would smile and make natural conversation. She was getting better at those things. She simply couldn’t bear it if they couldn’t be friends anymore.
She got up on still-wobbly legs to finish her polishing. And didn’t think of Joe Dolin at all.
Devin worked like a fiend the rest of the day and all of the next. He drove his deputies insane, and drove out to the farm to extend the same courtesy to his younger brother.
Of course, he told himself he’d come out to work. There were crops to be tended, and several of the cows that hadn’t yet calved were due to drop. He found his services welcomed when one of the cows delivered breech.
By the time it was over and the new calf was teetering on its spindly legs, Devin was a mess. His shirt was ruined, his arm was bruised from being contracted inside the cow’s birth canal. And he stank.
In the stall, Shane was equally dirty, and he was whistling cheerfully as he administered inoculations to the annoyed baby. “There you go, pal. That didn’t hurt much.”
Disgusted, Devin stared at him. It had been a hard, messy job, and it wasn’t over. The stall would have to be cleaned out and fresh hay spread, and the calf would need watching for the next couple of hours.
And there was Shane, kneeling in the muck, happy as a fool.
He’d been letting his hair grow lately, Devin noted, and he’d pulled a tail of it through the opening in the back of his grimy cap. His green eyes, shades paler than Devin’s, were dreamy, and his mouth was curved next to his dimple. He was sinfully good-looking, even for a MacKade. And he was the baby of the family, even younger than Devin, which meant that his older brothers had been honor-bound to kick his butt well and often.
As he continued to whistle, Devin gave serious thought to doing so now. “What the hell are you so happy about?”
“Nice healthy calf, from the look of him.” Despite the calf’s strong objections, Shane was holding him still and examining his eyes and ears. “Mama’s doing fine now. What’s not to be happy about?”
“She damn near broke my arm.”
“She couldn’t help it,” Shane said reasonably. “Besides, I told you I’d take that end. You insisted.”
“Yeah, right. This place is a mess.”
“Birthing’s not neat.” Shane stood and rubbed his filthy hands on his equally filthy jeans. He stepped out of the stall and leaned against the open door. “Besides, I thought this might sweat the mood out of you.” His grin was cocky, confident—all the more reason for Devin to want to punch it in. “Women trouble, right?”
“I don’t have women trouble.”
“That’s ’cause you don’t have any women—which, I might add, is an embarrassment to all of us. Why don’t you take one of mine? I’ve got plenty.”
Devin answered the suggestion with the crude and expected response before he stepped over to the sink to wash his hands.
“No, really. You know who I think would be good for you? Frannie Spader. She’s got all this red hair that just sort of tumbles all over the place, and the cutest smile. And when you get past the hair and the smile, she’s got a body that can make a man whimper. I don’t think you’ve done nearly enough whimpering lately.”
“I’ll
