"I'm perfectly fine."

She put her hands on her hips, which tightened her shirt around her growing belly. "Oh, please. You have ma.s.sive bruises on your hips, along with what looked like six hundred puncture marks."

"It's not that many. Compared with what Lindsey has to go through, this is nothing."

Penny sank down onto the sofa across from his chair. "I know. I spoke with her mom for a few minutes while you were still recovering. Lindsey's pretty wrecked from the chemo."

Cal didn't doubt it. The kid was in for a brutal process. First chemotherapy destroyed Lindsey's bone marrow, then she received an IV with his. Over the next few weeks, while her immune system was compromised, she would be kept isolated from the world. She would also battle what would feel like the worst flu of her life for that same period of time.

"I've popped onto the Internet and read about the procedure," Penny said. "There's a really good chance your bone marrow will cure her leukemia."

"I hope so."

"I wish there was more I could do," she said.

"You're here. I appreciate that."

"You should. I'll have you know I don't normally make cooking house calls, but I'm making an exception for you. We'll be dining on all your favorites."

His stomach rumbled. "Meat loaf?" He hadn't had Penny's meat loaf since before the divorce.

"Tonight. Then tomorrow, my very twisted Thai lasagna."

"Won't you be at the restaurant? We can't both be gone that long."

"I'll be going back and forth," she said. "Naomi's there, not to worry. Want to watch sports on TV?"

"No thanks."

"Hmm, do you have a fever?"

He smiled. "Reid's the sports guy. Did you unpack?"

"Yes. The guest room is lovely. I'm going out on a limb and saying you didn't decorate it yourself."

"Dani helped. She picked out the colors and the linens and the furniture. I did the labor."

She glanced around the living room. "The house is great."

"Paid for by the coffee drinkers of the Pacific Northwest."

"We do love our coffee."

She looked out the living room windows at the view of downtown. "You did good, Cal. You started with nothing and you created an empire. You should be proud of yourself."

"Thanks."

She turned back to him. "I get it now-the need to go out and make something happen on your own, but when you first left the restaurant business, I thought you were leaving me."

"What are you talking about?" How could she have thought that?

"It's hard to explain. We had a whole life that revolved around being awake when most of the world was asleep. We talked about the same kind of problems with customers and staffs and bosses. Then, suddenly, you wanted out. You became one of them, working nine to five." She shrugged. "I guess that sounds really strange. But at the time, I felt abandoned."

"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to get away from Gloria and her constant monitoring of my life. I was tired of the threats, the ugliness."

"I know," Penny said. Funny how with the pa.s.sage of time a lot of things became more clear. "I wish I'd been more supportive."

Cal shook his head. "Don't. You were great."

"You don't know how angry I was with you."

He looked surprised. "You're right. You hid it from me."

"Not my finest moment. I thought you'd change your mind and come back."

"You thought I'd fail."

Guilt made her uncomfortable. "Maybe."

"I should have explained more to you," he said. "I was embarra.s.sed to. I thought you'd think less of me."

Maybe it was the pain, or knowing his daughter was dangerously ill. Maybe it was the time they'd spent together, but Cal was vulnerable in a way she'd never seen him before.

"I loved you," she said. "I would have done anything for you."

"I know." His dark gaze settled on her face. "You deserved better than the little I had to give. I wish...I wish I'd been honest with you. Lindsey felt like such a big secret. I knew telling you about her would change everything. I should have trusted you to be able to handle it."

Something warm and squishy enveloped her heart. She wanted to be in Cal's arms and have him hold her close. She wanted them to go to bed and make love until the sun came up.

Either he was thinking the same thing or he read the invitation in her eyes. He stood and held out his hand.

She rose and walked to him. As she reached for him, he pulled her close. His arms went around her, she put her hands on his waist and he kissed her.

The contact was as erotic as it was familiar. She closed her eyes as he brushed his lips against hers, generating heat and need and sparks. Within seconds her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were swollen and sensitive and her thighs had begun to tremble.

"What is it about you?" he asked before he swept his tongue against her bottom lip.

Rather than answering, she opened to accept him. As he pushed inside and they began an intimate dance, he cupped her head as if to hold her in place.

Had she been able to form coherent thoughts, she would have told him she wasn't going anywhere. She wanted him too much. Wanted this. Funny how in all the time they'd been apart she'd managed to do fairly nicely with only a minimum of s.e.xual contact, but now, with him, she felt weak with desire.

He drew back and nipped on her bottom lip, then kissed her jaw. As he moved to her neck, he shifted and instantly stiffened.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing."

Somehow the tightness of his mouth and the shadows of pain in his eyes told her differently.