When Morning Comes (11 page)

She was off-limits to him. He didn't date women he worked with or ones who would object when he moved on—and he always did, always would.

“I hope I wasn't too long.”

Cade glanced around and simply stared at Sabrina. She was breathtakingly beautiful in a straight white sundress that stopped just above her incredible knees and a hot pink knit short jacket with rosettes. Desire blindsided him, and he realized what bothered him about Sabrina. He was beginning to think of her as a woman he wanted in his bed.

Frowning, she came to him, placing her small hand on his arm to stare up at him. “What's the matter? Is it one of your patients?”

She always thought of others and he couldn't stop thinking of her. “No.” He picked up the remote, causing her hand to slide off his arm. He wanted too badly for her to keep touching him, for him to touch her.

“Let's go,” he said, unable to keep the gruffness from his voice, hoping he still had time to stop whatever it was that made his body yearn for hers.

 

Seven

Sitting in the passenger seat of Cade's sports car at the Sonic drive-in, Sabrina silently wondered what had happened between the time she'd left to take a shower and the time she'd returned. Cade had gone from almost teasing to the uptight surgeon. She wanted the other Cade back.

“Is there something wrong with your hamburger?” Cade asked.

Sabrina glanced down at the bacon cheeseburger. She'd taken one bite since he'd handed it to her. That was at least ten minutes ago.

“I can order you something else.”

She glanced at him. She could evade the issue or meet it head on. “What changed between the time I went to change and when I returned?”

Broad shoulders beneath the blue-and-white striped shirt stiffened. She could almost see the wheels turning as he tried to think of an answer without outright lying. A man who didn't lie. She'd met pitiful few in her lifetime.

“Never mind. I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought I was.” She wrapped the burger back up and put it in the bag between them. You couldn't make someone care. Her birth mother had taught her that hard lesson. “I'm finished, and you must be anxious to get home.”

He stared at her a moment, then started the motor and backed out. He slowed down at a waste receptacle and tossed the bag in. He didn't say one word during the drive back to her house.

Parking in the driveway, he opened his door to get out. By the time he stood, Sabrina was passing the front end of the car. The only reason he caught her on the porch was that she had to search for her key. After she opened the door, she turned with a polite smile.

“Thank you again,” she said. She'd gambled and lost.

“Does this mean you're going to be out of sorts tomorrow?” he asked.

She'd expected him to make a fast retreat. Amazed, she stared up at him. He looked wary, a bit unsure, two words that she would have never have associated with the great Cade Mathis. He also wasn't the joking type. He was trying. Perhaps he was giving all he could. He'd come a long way since he'd visited her house, trying to get her to back off. He might be able to go further.

“I have cheesecake for dessert. Do you want to take some home with you?”

“No, thanks, but I'd like to check the grill to make sure it's out,” he told her.

“I can manage, but thanks.” Going inside, she tossed her small purse on the sofa on the way outside. Opening the top, she stared down at the ash white coals. They were finally ready for the meat.

“It would be a shame to waste this great fire. My first, I might add. Neither one of us ate very much. How does steak and salad sound?”

“I'll grill.”

She grinned and lowered the top. “Then they might escape being charred. Come on.”

Once again he followed her. The kitchen was as neat and as colorful as the den. Here she'd added touches of red to the yellows she seemed to prefer. Opening the refrigerator, she took out a large platter with two steaks covered with plastic wrap and set it on the kitchen island. “Mama gave me her recipe for a marinade.”

Cade glanced at the large T-bones before looking at her. “Why did you invite me and go to all the trouble if you've never done this before?”

She removed two glasses from the white cabinet. “Tea or lemonade?”

“Lemonade.”

Filling both glasses with ice from the automatic dispenser, she opened the refrigerator for the lemonade, filled their glasses, then handed one to him. “Because I knew you'd be tired and not feel like going out. Most men like grilled steak, and we could talk.”

Without drinking, Cade placed his glass on the table. “And you could find out why I changed my mind about Mr. Ward being in the room.”

Keeping her eyes on him, she sipped her drink. “The thought had entered my mind, but there was another reason.”

“Like what?”

She put her glass down and opened the refrigerator again. “I'll start on the salad.”

“Sabrina,” he said.

She removed a bag of salad greens, tomatoes, and a cucumber, and then handed him a long-handled meat fork. “It'll wait. The charcoal won't.”

Taking the fork, Cade picked up the steaks and went outside.

*   *   *

“You can grill almost as well as my dad, and that's saying a lot,” she said, her face soft, a small smile playing on her lips as they sat in the kitchen by the bay window with a view of the pool and blooming rosebushes.

She mentioned her family a lot. “Is your family in Dallas?”

Sighing, she sat back in her seat. “Houston. I miss them like crazy.”

“Then why are you here?” he asked, curious in spite of himself. He never asked about anyone's family for fear they'd want to know about his.

She wrinkled her nose. “If you must know, my supervisor and I kept having disagreements on what was best for the patients. She'd worked there for twenty-two years. We'd butted heads almost from the day I arrived. She thought my family got me the job.”

“Why would she think that?”

“My grandfather is a former chief-of-staff and retired ENT. My father is an internist and past member of the hospital board,” she admitted.

So, he had been right about her having money. “You strike me as the kind of woman who doesn't need nepotism,” he said truthfully. “I'm surprised you didn't stay.”

“Every day at work was a hassle. I got to the point I hated going in. I didn't want to be miserable every day or for it to affect helping people, so I left.” She picked up her glass. “So I know how you feel about a calm work environment.”

“I wouldn't have known it.”

“I can be a bit pushy at times,” she admitted with a laugh. “My mother says that attitude is what kept me alive when I was in the hospital. She was going down the hall and heard me crying. She came into the room and tried to pick me up without hurting me.”

Cade didn't want to hear her talk about that part of her life. He was at a loss to explain the sudden tightness in his chest. “How old were you?”

“Eighteen months.” She glanced down at her plate. “I didn't know how lucky I was that Mother walked into that room until I was much older. She and my father loved me in spite of my burns.”

“Or because of them,” Cade said. Sabrina's scars were on the outside, but he knew people who were just as scarred on the inside. “They saw a toddler who needed them.”

“That's what they always said. My brother Stephen and I are the lucky ones to grow up in a family of our heart.”

Once, foolishly, he'd been envious of people who had grown up with people who loved them. “He's adopted too?”

“Yes.”

“Does he live in Dallas?”

She shook her head and gave him one of her quick grins that more and more made him want to grin back at her. “Houston. He's eighteen and going into premed in the fall,” she said. “He scored a perfect SAT. He plans to follow granddad into ENT.”

“Your father doesn't care?” he asked.

“If he does, he's never shown it. He and Mother want us to be happy.” She chuckled. “Dad and I both had to physically restrain Mother from having a ‘talk' with my supervisor in Houston.”

Cade refused to feel bad because there had been no one to champion him. “You have a nice family.”

“How about yours?” she asked.

His expression didn't change. “Dead.” He picked up his plate and stood. “Where do I dump this?”

Sabrina came to her feet and took the plate. She'd seen the split second of harshness that crossed Cade's face when she asked about his family. If she didn't miss her guess, his childhood hadn't been a happy one. “I'll take care of this. Thanks for the burger and grilling.”

“I don't mind helping clean up,” he said.

He'd surprised her again—this time in a nice way. She'd like for him to stay longer, but she didn't want to take a chance that she'd accidentally say or do the wrong thing. “Never let it be said that Dr. Mathis has dishwater hands because of me.” She placed the plate on the table and took his arm, felt the muscles beneath. “You're in the free clinic tomorrow, so you'll have a hectic day.”

“I could stay,” he said at the door.

“Go. You've done enough.” She opened the door before she changed her mind. She wanted to soothe away the hurt she'd glimpsed earlier. “Good-bye.”

He hesitated. “I let Mr. Ward stay because he was making a nuisance of himself, calling the nurses every fifteen minutes.”

Folding her arms, she stared up at him. “Why not let security take care of it?”

“His being there was the only thing that calmed her once she fully woke up,” he said. “I didn't want to sedate her.”

Sabrina briefly touched his arm. “They love each other very much.”

His mouth tightened. “At the moment.”

“Some couples make it work for a lifetime,” she said. “Like my parents and grandparents.”

“I suppose. Good night,” he said.

“Good night.”

Sabrina watched Cade get into his car and back out of her driveway. He didn't believe in love that lasted a lifetime. If she hadn't been adopted, she might not either. She wondered what made him feel that way. Whatever the reason, she felt sad for him and was even more determined that he know someone cared about him.
Her.

Turning to go back in the house, she happened to glance down the street. She stepped off the porch to get a better view of Kara's driveway. She'd called earlier to see if Tristan was coming over, but she didn't see a car in the driveway. Sabrina just hoped he'd help Kara believe how talented she was.

Going inside, she began cleaning up the kitchen. She'd learned long ago that if she didn't do it immediately, she wouldn't do it at all. Waking up to dirty dishes wasn't the way she wanted to start the day.

Finished, she propped a hip on the counter stool, picked up the phone, and dialed Kara's number. “So, how did it go?” she asked as soon as Kara answered.

“I-I don't want to talk about it.”

Uneasiness wiped the smile from Sabrina's face and had her standing. “Kara, what's the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Bull. I'll meet you in the back in fifteen seconds.” Sabrina hung up the phone, grabbed her house keys out of her purse, and headed for the front door. There was something wrong, and she planned to find out what it was.

*   *   *

Kara was waiting for Sabrina in the backyard under a huge elm. She hadn't even attempted to sit on the padded black iron bench. She was too pissed, at herself, her mother, Tristan. They'd walked over her and she'd let them.

Sabrina came through the side gate Kara had left unlocked and hurried across the yard. “What happened?”

Although the garage blocked the view of her mother's bedroom, which was the reason she'd chosen this spot to paint and just get away, Kara stared in that direction.

Sabrina stepped in front of her, blocking her view. “What did your mother do this time?”

Kara flinched on hearing “this time.” “Why do I keep letting her treat me this way?”

“Because you respect her as your mother,” Sabrina said, rubbing her hand up and down Kara's trembling arm. “You loved your dad and you promised him you'd stay and help your mother no matter what.”

Kara swallowed the growing lump in her throat. She hadn't known Sabrina when her father died, but since she'd moved down the street they'd become best friends. Her mother didn't like Sabrina, probably because Sabrina saw through her and didn't cater to her as everyone else in the neighborhood did.

Unfortunately, Sabrina had witnessed on more than one occasion her mother's poor treatment of Kara. In her straightforward way, Sabrina had asked Kara why she let her mother behave toward her that way. Since she wasn't being nosey, and since Kara had seen the wonderful relationship between Sabrina and her own mother, she'd evaded. Sabrina had said nothing, but a couple of days later she'd told her about her birth mother. In her way, she let Kara know she understood.

Kara let out a shuddering breath and told her everything, and ended by saying, “She's angry at me because I didn't want to share the money Tristan gave me.”

“She's probably planning a trip to Dillard's as we speak,” Sabrina said. “She'll take what she thinks is her share one way or the other.”

“True.” Kara plopped down on the cushion. “Won't she be surprised if she tries to go over her five hundred dollar limit this time.”

Sabrina quickly sat beside her. “You finally did it.”

“This afternoon. I can't pay all the bills she runs up. I don't like living from paycheck to paycheck. That's why I was praying Tristan was on the level,” Kara admitted.

“I'm not sure he wasn't,” Sabrina said thoughtfully. “I kept trying to tell you your work is good. Besides her humanitarian work with children, my mother is on a couple of art councils in Houston. I grew up with art. You have talent.”