Slow Heat In Heaven by Sandra Brown

Author:Sandra Brown
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-04-03T17:02:39+00:00

Chapter Thirty-one

It was the dead cats that did it.

Schyler had returned to Belle Terre after being with Cash and went straight to her room. She filled her bathtub to the rim and soaked until the hot water turned cold. She asked Mrs. Graves to bring her dinner up to her on a tray. She ignored both the housekeeper's long-suffering sigh and the dinner. She wasn't hungry. She doubted she ever would be again.

How could she have done something so stupid?

Not that she was new at making severe errors in judgment. She had underestimated her sister's jealous hatred and ability to manipulate. She had given Ken up too easily, but had clung to a dead love for too long. She had almost let Tricia destroy her relationship with their father. But of all the serious mistakes she had made in her life, going to bed with Cash Boudreaux championed them all.

To save herself from having to think about it that night, she took a sleeping pill and went to bed early. Before the effects of the mild narcotic overpowered her, though, she suffered through several replays of the afternoon.

In her imagination, she felt again his hands, his lips, his body. Beside hers. Inside hers. She kept remembering him naked and strong and hard and beautiful. He made love as he did everything else, with intensity and passion and a total absence of discipline. His reputation as a stud was well earned. Even the memory of die act was more potent than any other sexual encounter Schyler had ever had. She had never felt so bloody marvelous in her life.

That is, until it was over. Then she'd never felt so wretched. She hadn't cried, but she had wanted to. Thank God she had held back her tears. They would have spelled her final and absolute humiliation and Cash's unqualified victory because what had happened on that bed had been a battle. He had set out to prove that there was a way he could best her, and he had.

He had fought to win. If there had been one kind and tender word spoken, she might not have taken defeat so hard. Nothing had softened the blow to her pride, not even that she had been forced or coerced. No, when he had carried her to his bed, she had wanted to go.

She had left his house and driven home under her own power. She had spoken intelligently with Dr. Collins over the telephone, and had even had a brief and animated conversation with Cotton. Under the circumstances, she had done well. She was confused and angry, but she was made of stern stuff. The matrix of her spirit had held her together. She hadn't crumbled; she hadn't broken apart.

But when she saw the dead cats she began to shake.

Mrs. Graves's scream rattled the crystal in every chandelier in the house. It was a clear morning, promising a better day than the one preceding it. Birds were splashing in the rain puddles on the lawn.

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