The Heart of Devin MacKade (The MacKade Brothers 3)

“And Ed would say something like ‘That Devin MacKade’s got the best buns in three counties.’” She caught herself on a giggle, her eyes going wide. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Too late. Besides, I know Ed’s partial to that particular part of the anatomy. She’s told me.”

“She

’s shameless.” With a long sigh of her own, Cassie wound her arms around him again, let her hands wander down. “But you do have an exceptional seat.”

“Now you’ve done it.” As her fingers brushed over his hips, he began to move inside her. Nothing could have pleased him more than seeing the way her eyes rounded in surprise.

“But how can you— Oh, my God!”

“It’s no trouble,” he assured her. “It’s my pleasure.”

And after, a long time after, he curled up beside her on the cot, his face buried in her hair, his legs tangled with hers. As she had hoped, as she had needed, he held her.

Chapter 8

It was barely dawn when Cassie crept into her own kitchen. She felt giddy, like a teenager sneaking home after curfew. Not that she’d ever broken curfew, she thought now. Not that she’d ever done anything except exactly what was expected of her.

It made her hushed, secret return all the more liberating.

She’d just spent the night, all night, with the most exciting, beautiful, the most gentle man she’d ever known.

She, Cassandra Connor Dolin, was having an affair.

She had to slap her hand over her mouth to muffle a burst of laughter. Her heart was still racing, her head still swimming, and her body…her body felt as though it had been polished with flower petals.

She was sure she looked different, and tried to see her reflection in the chrome of the toaster. Because she was alone, she allowed herself three quick spins before putting the kettle on for coffee.

Then, being a mother, she padded toward the bedrooms to make sure her children were snug and asleep. Turning from Connor’s room, she stifled a gasp. There was Ed, her fire-engine hair done up in squashy pink rollers, wearing a wildly flowered robe of pink and blue.

“I’m sorry,” Cassie whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You were quiet as a little mouse. I was listening out for you.” Ed took a long, measuring look, and liked what she saw. “Well, well, I believe you’re feeling good and smug this morning. About time, too.”

Cassie cast a last look at her sleeping son, then backed down the short hallway toward the kitchen. “The kids didn’t give you any trouble, did they?”

“Of course not. Never heard a peep out of either of them.” Grinning, Ed followed Cassie into the kitchen, watched while she busied herself measuring out coffee. “You going to tell me about it, or am I going to have to use my imagination? I got a damn good one.”

The heat rose to Cassie’s cheeks, but it was from pleasure as much as embarrassment. “I stayed with Devin.”

“I figured that out, sweetie pie.” Very much at home, Ed popped bread into the toaster. “From the look on your face, the two of you didn’t discuss world events until morning.” Sighing a little, she poked around in the refrigerator. “I’m not just being nosy. I guess I want to make sure you’re as okay on the inside as you look on the out.”

“I’m fine.” Cassie turned, smiled. There was Ed, holding a jar of preserves in one hand and a gallon of milk in the other, her thin face shiny with night cream, her hair exploding on rollers, her outrageous robe falling over legs the shape of toothpicks.

This, Cassie realized, was the mother of her heart. Cassie set the steaming kettle down again and dashed over to throw her arms around Ed.

Surprised, moved, Ed pressed her lips to Cassie’s hair. “There, baby…”

“I feel…different. Do I look different?”

“You look happy.”

“My stomach’s still jumping.” Laughing at herself, Cassie drew back and pressed a hand to it. “But it feels good. I didn’t know it could be like that. I didn’t know I could be like that.” Casting a quick look at the hallway, she went back to the coffee. Her children were asleep, and would be for another half hour. After all these years, Cassie thought, she would have a mother to listen.

“I’ve never been with anyone but Joe.”

“I know that, baby.”