The Heart of Devin MacKade (The MacKade Brothers 3)

“Yep. That’s a MacKade for you. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know what to do.” Brow creased, Cassie picked up a damp rag and began to wipe the counter. “Regan, I started going with Joe before I was sixteen. I’ve never been with anyone else.”

“Oh.” Regan pursed her lips. “I see. Well, it would be only natural to be a little nervous over the idea that you might be heading toward a physical relationship.”

Because her palms were indeed damp, Cassie set down the cloth and rubbed them on her apron. “I don’t like sex,” she said flatly, rattling dishes again so that she didn’t note the lift of Regan’s brow or the concern in her friend’s eyes. “I’m not any good at it, and I just don’t like it, anyway.”

“Cassie, I know the counseling helped you.”

“Yes, it did, and I’m grateful for you persuading me to go. I feel better about myself, and I’m more confident about a lot of things. I know I didn’t deserve to be abused, that I didn’t cause it, and that I did the right thing by getting out.” She let out a breath. “This is a different matter. Not all women are built to enjoy sex. I’ve read about it. Anyway,” she continued before Regan could comment, “I’m getting ahead of myself. But I’m not stupid, Regan. I know that Devin has needs, and I’m prepared to meet them.”

“That is stupid,” Regan snapped. “Making love is not supposed to be a chore like—like…” Flustered, she gestured to the sink. “Like doing the damn dishes.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Because Regan was her friend, she smiled. “What I meant was that I care for Devin. I always have. This is a different level. I didn’t know he was attracted to me. I’m so flattered.”

Regan’s response to that was a muttered curse that only made Cassie’s smile widen.

“Well, I am. He’s so beautiful, and he’s kind. I know he won’t hurt me.”

“No,” Regan said quietly. “He wouldn’t hurt you.” But, she thought, would you hurt him?

“Kissing him was lovely, and I think having sex with him would be nice.”

Wisely, Regan covered her cough with a sip of coffee. If Devin was anything like Rafe, nice was hardly the word. “Has he asked you to bed?”

“No. He wouldn’t even kiss me again when I asked him

to. That’s what I wanted to ask you about. How do I go about letting him know I don’t mind being with him—that way?”

It was a tribute to her willpower that Regan didn’t goggle. Carefully she set the coffee cup aside. “This goes against the grain for me, Cassie, against every feminist cell in my body, but I have to trust my instincts here, and go with what I know about you and about Devin. I’m going to advise you to let him set the pace, at least initially. Take your cues from him. Just relax and enjoy the ride. I think you can count on him to get you both where you want to go. When you’re ready, Cassie. It’s important to think of yourself, too, not just Devin.”

“So I really shouldn’t do anything?”

“Do what seems right to you. And do this—don’t compare him with Joe. And don’t compare the woman who lived with Joe with the woman you are now. I think you’re in for a few surprises.”

“I’ve already had one.” Cassie touched a fingertip to her lips. “It was wonderful.”

“Good. Keep an open mind.” She gave Cassie a quick kiss, bent down to fuss over Nate one last time. “And, Cass, I really wouldn’t mind if you sort of kept me up-to-date with the progress.”

By mid-afternoon, Cassie had finished the guest rooms, and the laundry, and had Nate tucked in a portable crib in Emma’s room for a nap. She’d slipped a chicken in the oven to roast and was giving some thought to tackling the mending when she heard the quick rap on her door.

Her heart did a little flip at the hope that it might be Devin stopping by. But settled again when she saw her mother through the screen.

“Hello, Mama.” Dutifully Cassie opened the door and pecked her mother’s dry cheek. “It’s nice to see you. I’ve just made some iced tea, and I have some nice cherry cobbler.”

“You know I don’t eat sweets in the middle of the day.” Constance Connor scanned the living area of her daughter’s quarters. She wrinkled her nose at the cat that curled under the table. Animals belonged outside.

The curtains were drawn back, which would surely fade the upholstery with that strong sunlight. But it was neat. She’d taught her daughter to be neat.

After all, cleanliness was next to godliness.

Still, she didn’t care for the bright colors, or all the folderols sitting about. It was showy. She sniffed to indicate her disapproval and sat down on one of the living room chairs, her back broomstick-straight.

“I’ll say again, it’s a poor choice for you to live in a man’s house who isn’t your husband.”

It was an old argument, and Cassie answered by rote. “I lived in Mr. Halleran’s house for nearly ten years.”

“And paid good rent.”