Meet Cate by Fiona Barnes

it. She wasn't sure how much was her fault. But as she stared at his familiar face, the candlelight waving and bobbing over it, she was peaceful.
    He caught her eye and sat, looking at her.
    If there was one thing Tom could do, and do well, it was kindness. He could be tender, loving, gentle−better than anyone she knew.
    She looked back at him, briefly wondering what her face gave away. She wasn't sure what she felt−gratitude? Comfort? Love? Tom's strong chin had a shadow of darkness across it. His hair was freshly cut, the gray looked handsome. As she always did when she thought of him, she felt strength. He was a man. He was damaged, human. He was capable of great hurt−but weren't we all?
    She silently cursed her heart. She was better than this.
    "You're okay?" he asked her now. His voice was low, just for her.
    Cate nodded.
    "Dessert?" Tom let her decide. His voice hummed through her when he spoke.
    She nodded again.
    Tom signaled the waitress. When she appeared, smiling, he said, "Something with chocolate and two coffees."
    When the waitress moved away, Tom turned to Cate. They were sitting next to one another, tucked into an alcove, against a wall, deep in the restaurant. "I know you've been through a lot," he said gently.
    Cate sat, her eyes caught in his.
     

Chapter Forty Nine
    The next few weeks were a blur. Tom was always in her peripheral. He'd be on his porch in time for coffee each morning, grinning and returning a wave from Cate. He'd knock at her door politely, respecting boundaries he seemed to know he'd have to earn his way past. He was always fresh: shaved, dressed neatly and smelling good. Cate could smell the clean, masculine scent as he passed, or when he leaned closer to hear something she'd said.
    They'd had dinner several times, and sat in front of her fire until late one night, just talking. It was familiar and yet−intriguing, a little bit nerve-racking. Tom asked Cate about her day, listened when she talked, remembered what she said. He supported her, and complimented her. He lifted her up.
    It was the last few that really got to her. They reminded her of why she'd fallen in love with the kind, confident man. A man who'd shown her respect, acknowledged her fierce independence, treated her with gentle tenderness and earned her trust over time. Once he had, she had allowed him to take care of her, so many years ago.
    She was dating her husband. And he appeared to be dating her.
    It was Tuesday, two weeks before Halloween, when Cate arrived home late. She parked the Jeep in her spacious garage, then entered the house through the kitchen. Cate stowed her bags in her office after sorting them neatly, ready for the next day. She'd gone through her mail, piling correspondence she wanted to reply to on the corner of her desk.
    Kicking her shoes off, as she always did, she walked to the kitchen, Merry at her side.
    As was her habit, Cate spoke to the older dog as if she was understood. "What should we have, girl?" The woman poked through the refrigerator, sleepy, as Merry cocked her head, hopeful.
    Cate was chopping garlic to sauté in a buttery sauce she'd dreamed up on the spot when Tom knocked on the French doors.
    Cate padded across the room to let him in, then crossed back to wash her hands and return to her work. She took large cooked shrimp from the freezer and ran them under cool water in a colander, to be added to the cooktop mixture. She washed and chopped greens, brightly-colored pepper, onion, chives, cucumber and a carrot. Mixing a spicy vinaigrette, she poured, then drizzled two spoonfuls of crumbled bleu cheese over the salad.
    Satisfied, Cate turned her attention back to her sauté, grating Parmesan, grinding pepper, and mincing fresh parsley. At the last minute, she mixed in chunked onion, stirring it while lowering the heat to soften the pieces. Tom watched all of this quietly, understanding Cate's exhaustion. It was nine o'clock at night. He knew she probably wanted nothing more