Was that what she was? Cassie didn’t think so. Pissed, yes—distressed, no. She also didn’t think she was the damsel Theo was interested in helping.
Cassie hugged her friend close. “Thanks, Bon. You’re the best.”
“Tell me about it.” Bonnie squeezed Cassie back, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before pushing her toward the car.
Theo, who stood holding the door for Cassie, quirked a dimpled grin at Bonnie. “Got one of those for me?”
To everyone’s surprise, probably none more than Bonnie’s, Bonnie rushed forward and went up on tiptoe, brushing her lips, soft and swift, against Theo’s jaw. Short as she was, that was all she could reach. “Thank you,” she said, stepping back as quickly as she had stepped forward.
“Anytime, love,” Theo said, blue eyes bright with sincerity and a bit of something more.
Hmm. Cassie eyed Theo as he shut her door and went around to the driver’s side. She rolled down her window—literally rolled, the car had those old-fashioned crank handles—and gave her friend a knowing look as she waved goodbye.
Bonnie ignored the look and waved back, blowing kisses and generally acting ridiculous. After all, they were going to see each other again at the airport in a few hours. Still, Cassie wouldn’t have it any other way. With a surge of love for her friend, she blew a few kisses back as the car pulled away from the curb.
Cassie took a deep breath. The trip, her glorious once-in-a-lifetime vacation, was coming to an end … and not at all like she had expected.
They were barely outside London’s city limits when the first call from Logan fucking Reid came through. Cassie ignored it. She also ignored LFR’s second, third, and fourth calls. Eventually, she turned her phone off, not wanting to risk the temptation to answer it, to explain why she left … to say goodbye.
As they approached Heathrow, a wild guitar riff blasted through the silence of the car and Cassie jumped. “Jesus!”
“Sorry,” Theo said, keeping one hand on the wheel as he pulled his phone out of his jeans. “It’s Logan.”
“Don’t answer it!” She grabbed Theo’s phone, wincing as the ear-piercing sounds continued for a few more seconds. “What the hell kind of ringtone is that?” A second later, another call came through—Logan again—his name popping up on the screen. “Think he knows you’re helping me?” She raised her voice over the screech of a guitar.
Theo switched lanes, waiting to answer until the phone stopped wailing. “If not now, I wager he’ll find out soon enough.”
“Will he be mad that you did?”
“Probably.” Theo shrugged. “But he’ll get over it.”
Cassie dropped the now blessedly silent phone in her lap and rubbed her pounding temples. “Guns N’ Roses fan, huh?”
“I’m impressed,” Theo said.
“I’m surprised.” Cassie nudged him. “And please, everybody knows ‘Welcome to the Jungle.’”
“Then why are you surprised?” They passed a sign announcing the Heathrow exit, and Theo switched to the far lane.
“I mean, come on,” she said, “‘Paradise City’ would have been a better choice.”
Theo laughed. As he entered Heathrow’s circle of traffic, he began to sing.
The airline terminals ticked by, and Cassie mused on the strangeness of life. When she’d set out on this trip almost two months ago, she’d never predicted it would end with her running away from a sexy Scot, riding shotgun to a duke, listening to him mimic Axl Rose’s powerful whine in a crisp English accent.
Take me home, indeed.
Her terminal approached, and with a start, Cassie realized this was it. Panic set in as she wrestled with a sudden flurry of emotions.
Theo slipped the car into an open spot. “I’ll get your luggage.” A moment later, he opened her door and offered her his hand. “You ready?”
Cassie took a shuddering breath. No. No, she was not ready.
The sharp, annoyed bleat of horns started to sound around them. Theo cleared his throat. Cassie thought she heard him tell someone to “piss off” but couldn’t believe the rude remark had come from polite, princely Theo. No, not prince, duke, she corrected herself, grabbing her backpack and placing it on top of her suitcase.
“Do you want me to park and walk you in?” Theo asked.
Cassie shook her head. “You’ve already done so much. I can’t ask you to do more.” She jumped out of the car.
“Is there anything you can ask me to do?” Another horn. He jerked a hand out and yelled, “Move on, you bloody tosser!”
“You know? There is,” Cassie said, struck by a sudden impulse. She pulled the crumpled contract from the back pocket of her jeans and smoothed the paper out. She’d left the jacket and jewelry box with Bonnie, but perhaps she should leave this behind too.
Yes. It would be best to leave it all behind. Leave him behind.
“Do you have a pen?”
CHAPTER 17
LOGAN LIFTED HIS head from the couch and raised an arm to block the laser beam of sunlight threatening to burn his retinas. What the hell time was it? Well past dawn if the bright ball of fire outside his hotel window was any indication. He rolled his head to the side and squinted at the clock on the desk.
That couldn’t be right.
He sat up and dug his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. Tapping it awake, he swore at the number that blinked back at him. How was it five fecking minutes past nine in the morning?
Christ, what had happened to Cassie?
Last night, after he’d dropped the lass off at her room to pick up a few things, Logan had hurried down the hall and tidied up both himself and his suite a bit. Then he put on some music, purloined a wee bottle of whisky from the minibar, and settled down on the couch, figuring she’d be along any minute. He’d sipped the whisky and relaxed, fantasizing about all the things he’d do to her once she arrived. At some point, he must have nodded off. Christ knew it had been a long day and he hadn’t had much sleep recently.
He grinned, recalling what he’d been doing instead of sleeping these last few nights, but the grin quickly faded … He should have been up doing more of the same last night. Again, he wondered what had happened to Cassie. Had she been waiting for him? Standing in the hall outside his door, knocking, while he’d slept through it like an idiot?
Logan dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his temples. Then grabbed his phone again and checked his messages. Three texts from Janet, a few from some mates, but nothing from Cassie. No missed calls either. If he’d been passed out and hadn’t answered his door last night, she would have tried calling him … right?
A tremor of uncertainty shook him, and he jumped to his feet. Not bothering with shoes, he grabbed his key card and rushed out of the room. A moment later he was pounding on Cassie’s door. Nothing. He dialed her number and let it ring until voicemail picked up. He clicked off and called again, getting voicemail once more. Pinpricks of foreboding tripped up his spine.
When Cassie’s voicemail clicked on for the third time, Logan left her a message. “Cassie? It’s Logan. Where did you go last night? I’m afraid I fell asleep waiting for you.” He tried to laugh, to keep his tone light, but his throat was too tight. He swallowed. “I’m at your door now, but no one’s answering. Your flight’s today, aye? I’d hate to miss a chance to see you before you go.” Logan turned and slid down the wall, clutching the phone to his ear. “Please, lass,” he begged, not caring how desperate he sounded, “let me know you’re all right.”
He ended the call and shoved a hand through his hair. “She’s fine,” he whispered to himself. Deep down, he wasn’t truly worried anything had happened to her. No, he was fairly certain he knew exactly what had kept Cassie from coming to his room last night.
Somehow, someway, she had found out, either about the fact he’d lied to her as to when he’d checked into the hotel (though he still maintained he hadn’t lied exactly, he just hadn’t corrected her assumptions) or worse, she knew about th
e contract.
Logan jumped to his feet. The contract. The bloody fucking contract.
He raced back to his room and tore through his things. But in his gut, he knew. He could see his jacket in his mind’s eye, still feel that damn piece of paper burning him through the pocket. With painful clarity, he recalled standing in her hotel room, watching her undress. He remembered the slow, sexy smile she’d given him as she’d said, “Your turn.”
He’d tossed the jacket on the sofa and hadn’t spared another thought for either his coat or the contract as he’d proceeded to do all kinds of wonderfully wicked things to her on that same damn piece of furniture. Shit.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Logan found himself cursing his brain for letting his dick take over.
He should have told Cassie the truth that first night on the boat. And then what? She’d throw the contract overboard and tell him to never see her again? No. Logan wouldn’t trade these last few days he’d spent with her for anything. Not even for a guaranteed shot at that telly deal.
The realization shook him. When had this thing between them become something more?
Had Cassie felt what they had was more too? If she had, he’d fucked it up royally now.
Logan glanced at the clock again. It was almost ten. He racked his brain, trying to remember what she’d told him about her plan for today. He knew her flight was in the afternoon and that a hired car had been arranged to take them to Heathrow. Bingo.
Logan tugged on his trainers and raced out into the hall again. As he waited for the lift, he dialed Theo. He would have stopped and knocked on his mate’s door, but he wanted to get to the lobby as fast as possible. Theo’s line cut to voicemail, and Logan ground his teeth. Why wasn’t anyone answering any of his fecking calls this morning? He jammed his phone in his pocket and punched the button for the lobby.
The doors slid open, and Logan cut through the foyer. The swish of a long, strawberry-blond ponytail caught his attention, and he turned, catching sight of Delaney exiting the breakfast room with a plate stacked high with scones.
“Hey!” he called, hurrying toward her as she made her way to the hotel’s entrance.
She glanced behind her, almost dropping the plate when she saw him. Logan reached her side in time to catch a scone that teetered and fell off the top of the pile.
“If I let you keep that, will you go away and leave me alone?” Delaney asked.
“Not a chance,” Logan said, making short work of the pilfered pastry as he kept in step with her, following her through the revolving door and out of the hotel. Nearside the curb stood Cassie’s other friends, all of them talking over each other, attempting to direct a livery driver while he packed their many suitcases into the boot of a limousine.
But no Cassie.
Bonnie glanced up. As soon as she saw him, her Cupid’s bow mouth tightened into a hard, stubborn line. She shifted her gaze to Delaney. “Nice work. You just had to go back for seconds, didn’t you?”
Delaney flushed with guilt. “When will I have another chance to have an English scone in England?” she asked, holding the plate out as a peace offering. “Want one?”
Logan was surprised the pile of dough didn’t burn to a crisp, singed by the icy fire in Bonnie’s blue eyes. He came to the rescue, taking the plate and smiling wide. “Aye, thank you.”
The lass didn’t seem to appreciate his heroic gesture. “I wasn’t talking to you.” Delaney tugged the plate back and moved to a bench near the valet stand, where she sat and proceeded to power through the stack of scones.
He shook his head, once again impressed at the sheer amount of food the tall, thin girl could devour. He turned back to Bonnie, who was arguing with Sadie about the number of suitcases still lined up behind the boot.
“There is no way all of these are going to fit!” The redhead’s curls bobbed back and forth. “I swear, Sadie, you’ve doubled your luggage since we started this trip.”
“If I may make a suggestion,” Logan said as he approached the curb.
Bonnie stopped him with another icy glare. “I’m not talking to you.”
He was sensing a theme here. “Where’s Cassie?”
“She’s not talking to you either.”
Aye, definitely a theme. The scone he’d hastily scarfed started to crawl back up his throat. So far, he’d held out hope Cassie had not answered her phone because she’d been busy packing and getting ready to fly home. Or, if the lass was angry with him, it was due to the fact he’d fallen asleep and missed their tryst. “Is she fashed with me then?”
“If by ‘fashed’ you mean mad enough to never want to see your face again, then yes,” Bonnie said, stepping off the curb to join Ana, who was busy rearranging the bags that had already been packed.
Sadie sighed. “Sorry, guys, I thought there’d be plenty of room since Cassie already went on ahead—”
“What’s that?” Logan’s head snapped in the wee blonde’s direction.
Sadie shrugged her pixie-like shoulders. “Ah, nothing,” she chirped, eyes darting to Bonnie.
Logan met Bonnie’s gaze, and in that moment he understood.
Cassie was gone.
He felt numb, unable to sense the ground beneath him or hear the rush of morning traffic in the street beyond the hotel square. The harsh slam of a car door brought him back to the moment, and he jerked, looking up to see Bonnie walking toward him.
“Delaney!” she called. “We’re leaving.”
Delaney rose, brushing the crumbs from her lap, and handed the lads at the valet stand her plate, generously offering them the last two crumpled scones. As she passed him on the way to the car, she patted Logan on the back. “Well, Scottie the Hottie, it was nice knowing ya.”
Despite himself, Logan laughed. “Same to you.” He turned to give the tall, sassy lass a hug, whispering a bit of Gaelic in her ear.
“Do I want to know what you just said?” she asked, pulling back and giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Probably not.” Logan waved her off, the cold weight of Bonnie’s blue gaze pressing down on him as he waved farewell to Ana and Sadie as well. Once the other women were settled in the limousine, he turned to Bonnie. Before he could ask her about Cassie, she stepped closer and poked him in the chest.
“Ow!” Logan rubbed his smarting skin; the little vixen was fierce. “What was that for?”
Bonnie waved her finger in his face. “I don’t know what you did to hurt Cassie, but I know you did something.” She moved to poke him again, and he jumped back, holding her wrist. Bonnie shook herself free and walked away from him. She reached into the car, pulled something out, and marched back toward him.
Logan stood frozen at the curb. She was carrying his jacket.
“I was going to leave this at the front desk, but since you’re here—” Bonnie whipped the coat at him, venom in her voice and her aim.
Ducking to avoid getting smacked in the face, Logan caught the jacket. Immediately, he checked the inside pocket, guts churning, feeling for the contract. Nothing. He checked the other pockets, hoping to find a note from her tucked into one of them, but she’d left without a word.
After everything they’d shared the past few days, he was more than a little hurt.
He recalled the jewelry box with the charms that he’d been planning to give her as a going away present. Something to remember him by. The box was gone too. “She didn’t happen to leave anything else for me?” he asked, hoping she’d kept the charms. He wanted her to have them.
Bonnie reached into her purse and pulled out a familiar-looking jewelry box. “Something like this?” She slapped the box into his open palm.
Logan shook his head, wordless. That Cassie hadn’t wanted to keep the charms stung more than he was willing to think about right now.
Bonnie turned away and returned to the car. “Oh, and there is one more thing.” She paused and faced him again.
His breath caught as hope and fea
r warred in his gut. “Aye?”
“Please be sure to thank Theo for me.”
“Thank Theo?” Logan repeated dumbly. “For what?”
“For driving Cassie to the airport. She was going to take a cab, but he insisted on taking her. Unlike some guys…” she paused, glaring at Logan as she entered the limo, “… your friend Mr. Wharton is a gentleman.”
The driver closed the passenger door after Bonnie and, with an apologetic tip of his hat toward Logan, took his place behind the wheel. “Yes,” Logan silently agreed, mouth tight as he watched the limousine pull away and maneuver into the flow of traffic, “such a gentleman.”
A gentleman who was going to get his arse kicked.
Logan stormed down the hall back to his hotel room. As he passed Theo’s door, he punched it. He knew the blighter wasn’t there, but still, it felt good to hit something. By noon he was at the train station. His temper hadn’t cooled, had instead remained at a steady simmer, fury burning just under his skin, ready to boil over at a moment’s notice.
During the past few hours he’d considered and dismissed a slew of scenarios. He could hire a cab and race to Heathrow, run through the throngs of travelers, and try to track Cassie down like some lovesick dobber from the cinema. And likely end up tossed in the clink for his efforts. Or he could buy a ticket on the next flight to Cassie’s town.
Except, Logan realized with a start, he didn’t know where she lived.
How could that be? How could he have shared so much with Cassie these past few days and not even know where she was from? He racked his brain, searching for clues, replaying conversations, analyzing them for anything that might help. Most of his memories from that night centered on Cassie’s mouth, specifically those moments when it was on his.
He decided to head home. He sent his sister a quick text letting her know he’d be back in Edinburgh tonight, but didn’t elaborate, in no hurry to admit defeat and face Janet’s wrath. When his phone buzzed, he ignored it, assuming it was Nettie calling to demand more details. When it buzzed again, he yanked it out his pocket, ready to turn the blasted thing off.
Getting Hot with the Scot--A Sometimes in Love Novel Page 18
