Mollie wanted her kids home, not out there somewhere with who-knew-whom, maybe scared, hurt or.... Stop it, there's no use borrowing trouble. They'll be all right. I have to believe they'll be all right.

"You ought to go to bed," Wade said, breaking in to her self-chiding thoughts. "I wouldn't be able to sleep no matter what."

"I won't be able to sleep either," Mollie replied.  "How could I sleep when I don't know where my kids are, whether they may be hurt or hungry? Santa Madre, what kind of a mother do you think I am?"

Perhaps he heard the anger and pain in her voice, but his reply caught her off guard.  "A very good and concerned mother, but one who needs to keep her strength up and take care of herself, too. Sometimes it's selfish not to be a little selfish, if you know what I mean."

His gentle words were too much. The tears she'd fought to hold at bay suddenly welled up. This time she could not blink them away. She fisted her hands, grasping the edge of the tablecloth as the surge of unleashed emotion threatened to sweep her away.

In a breath he was on his feet and around the table. When he caught her by the shoulders and half-lifted her out of the chair, she could not resist. Turning into his arms, she burrowed her face in the crisp fabric of his shirt, surrendering to the wracking sobs.

Although Wade normally hated feminine tears, relief swept him when he saw the first drops begin to leak from Mollie's eyes. She's finally going to let go a little. Thank God.

He just acted, rising to go to her, bodily lifting her from her seat and into his arms. No one should have to cry that way alone. The silent wracking sobs seemed to tear from the depths of Mollie's soul. She did not resist but melted against him, burying her face in the hollow of his shoulder. His shirt was soon wet with her tears, but he didn't mind. He stroked her back in long gentle sweeps, murmuring senseless words as if he were soothing a frightened child or an injured animal.

He didn't know how long they stood there together before her sobs subsided into hiccupping sniffles and finally to shuddering breaths. He felt the stiffening of her body an instant before she lifted her head.

"Aye de mi. Why did you let me go on that way?" She sniffed as she pulled back, as far as he'd let her.  Lifting one hand from his arm where she'd crumpled a handful of shirt sleeve, she scrubbed at her eyes. "I've soaked your shirt and gotten it all wrinkled."

"You needed to," he said simply. "I was worried because you were too controlled, too calm, holding it all in. You needed to get some of the feelings out, release some of that growing pressure. Why shouldn't I let you?"

They were still close. He circled her waist with one arm, the other hand resting on her shoulder. Her face was just inches away, and in spite of the signs of weeping, she still looked beautiful. Long inky lashes were clumped into star-points while lingering moisture gave her dark eyes a peculiar luster. Her lips still quivered slightly. Warm, full lips that drew first his gaze and then his lips with a magnetic pull.

There was nothing hesitant or cautious about this kiss. It might have been as much a reaction as Mollie's tears had been, but he sensed neither of them was going to resist. From leaning away as if to break free, she went in a heartbeat to flowing against him. She clasped both arms around him, arched into his body and stretched upward into his kiss, her lips as eager and active as his were. They kissed with a blind urgency, voracious driving need, as if there was no one save the two of them in the entire world.

Rationality returned like a wash of ice water. What in God's name are we doing? Wade raised his head, gently holding Mollie back from reaching to continue the kiss with one hand woven into her hair at the back of her neck. She gave a slight mew, like a hungry kitten, just before her eyes flew open.