by Eliza Watson
“I have to go.” She turned and bolted. She didn’t want to hear that work was more important than kissing her.
* * *
Ryan watched Cassidy disappear inside the museum. Why the hell had he checked his phone? Instinct. Not to mention, he didn’t know what to say after kissing her. The call had gone to voice mail; he slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket rather than check the message.
What had he been thinking kissing her?
That he’d like to strip off her sexy little black dress and take her right there on the terrace.
Instead of satisfying his hunger, it had only served to increase his obsession with her lips. She’d nibbled off her red lipstick during her confrontation with that Nick guy, leaving her lips naked, ready for the taking.
Not only was this the first time he’d seen her wear something so revealing, but the first time he’d seen her look vulnerable, lacking confidence. He was waiting for her to give that Nick guy a verbal beating, rip his character to shreds. Instead, Ryan had felt the need to come to her rescue, which she hadn’t seemed particularly thankful about.
Although she’d been receptive to the kiss, she’d left pissed off. What if she quit? What if he never saw her again? It wasn’t just the fact that she was knee-deep in this damn fiancée hunt, but he wanted to see her again. The aching in his groin was a testament to just how badly he needed to see her. Yet it was this same aching that had brought on a potential paternity suit and had also led to being blackmailed by Serena. Besides, Cassidy wouldn’t be satisfied with casual sex. She’d want a fairy-tale romance. She deserved a fairy-tale romance.
“Here you are,” Alex said, walking up.
“Came out to get some air.”
“Just saw Cassidy leaving. When I asked where she was going, she said, ‘The hell outta here.’ You two have a spat?”
“She ran into some jerk competitor, and I outed her as my matchmaker and wedding planner.”
“I see Veronica’s here. Hopefully she doesn’t catch wind of that or she’ll be stalking Cassidy. And good thing we added the no-approach clause. With three thousand applications in only two days, they’d be throwing their panties at you.”
“Three thousand? Are you serious?”
“Guess Cassidy hasn’t been keeping you up to speed.”
“Haven’t cared to know.” However, he’d like to know more about that guy. There’d been a lot of tension between them. “I want you to get me the scoop on a Nick Winston.”
“Why?”
“If she can nose around in my life, I have the right to know something about her, don’t I?”
Alex nodded but looked unconvinced, and slightly apprehensive.
“Especially when I just told her I don’t like beer.”
“You didn’t tell me that until high school when I was chugging your aunt’s beer while you drank wine.”
“Yeah, well, you called me a pansy.”
Alex chuckled fondly at the memory. “I think you can trust Cassidy. Besides, that’s a fairly minor secret in the scope of things.”
Was there such a thing as a minor secret? He couldn’t tell the difference anymore. He’d paid the price, a hefty one at that, after he’d screwed up and told Serena a family secret. He’d jeopardized his aunt’s and the staff’s welfare, and all because he’d never dreamed a freelance journalist for travel magazines would be plotting to write a tell-all book about him.
They’d “coincidentally” met three years ago at an art benefit in London. She’d supposedly been writing an article on estates in France and wanted to include his family’s place. She’d done her research and discovered his strong attachment to the home. Before the article even went to press, she’d wormed her way into his life and into his bed.
He’d never be that naïve again.
Although, he’d invited Cassidy into his life. The other night at his condo, she’d become entranced by the photo before she’d even known it was his family’s home. Or had she known? Her interest had seemed genuine. At least he wanted to believe it had. She might be different from Serena and the other women in his life, but he couldn’t afford to take a chance. There was a lot more at stake than himself.
Chapter Sixteen
Cassidy walked up the porch steps of the funeral home. She tightened the velvet shawl around her, Ryan’s musky scent lingering on the fabric.
What if Ryan’s apology was for kissing her, not for taking the call?
Outside of a physical attraction powerful enough to light the entire city of Milwaukee, they had nothing in common. Not only was she the opposite of Veronica and the other women Ryan dated, she was opposite of the type of woman she was determined to match him up with. And now that Nick knew her matchmaker role, she had to find Ryan the perfect woman.
She marched inside with renewed determination and upstairs to find Lucy in the kitchen. She had zero desire to discuss the preliminary applications or anything remotely associated with finding Ryan’s fiancée.
“I’m home. Going to bed. See ya in the morning.” She headed down the hallway.
“Wait a sec,” Lucy called out, following her into her bedroom. “You can’t go to bed and leave me hanging. I want to hear all about tonight. How was everybody dressed? What did they serve? And why are you home already?”
Cassidy grabbed the pink hatbox from under her bed. She removed the box’s tattered lid. There it sat. Her childhood hopes and dreams. The wedding album she’d created lovingly from scratch when ten years old. Cream parchment paper pages were accented with doilies and stickers of doves, bells, and other symbols of love. More planning than she’d done for her and Nick’s wedding, which should have told her something.
“I’m probably the only woman who completed her wedding album before she was old enough to date.” And she’d have died if Ryan had discovered it.
“A lot of women save ideas for their wedding. I did.”
“I started this when I was ten. I had my picture taken in my mom’s wedding gown. She used to let me play dress up in it. That’s how little she cared about it.” She gestured to the photo of her in a wedding dress on the cover. “Brad Pitt in a tux superimposed in the picture alongside me isn’t a bit strange?”
Lucy twisted her mouth around, searching for a response. “You guys make a really cute couple.”
The album’s first page displayed sample invitations announcing her marriage to various prospective grooms, such as Bruce Willis and Johnny Depp. The next page had a photo of her with a young Pierce Brosnan superimposed, cutting a six-tier cake. Whoa. She’d likened Ryan to the actor.
Cassidy slammed the album shut. The photo of her in the wedding dress glared up at her. She removed it from the slot and ripped it in half.
She marched into the kitchen, Lucy trailing behind. She retrieved a box of matches from the cupboard.
“What are you doing?” Lucy grabbed the album from her hand. “Give me that. You’re going to set off the smoke alarm. I’ll destroy it for you. I’ll take it over to the main funeral home and use the crematory.”
Even cremating it wouldn’t kill the memories of Cassidy’s delusional dreams.
“I saw Nick tonight,” she blurted out, dropping down in a chair.
Lucy sat next to her. “For real? Why would he go to a benefit for Children’s Medical Center? He doesn’t even like kids.”
Cassidy wasn’t sure if he liked kids or not. They both liked…shrimp cocktail. And they thought Swedish meatballs were way overdone at wedding receptions. They agreed the best reception venues were Villa Luna and the Grand Ballroom at the Walford Hotel downtown. Had the only romance and love involved with their relationship been that of their clients?
“He was there to drum up business. To have a shot at planning Ryan’s wedding.”
“Wouldn’t it kill him to know you’ll be planning it?”
“He does know.”
She filled Lucy in on her Nick encounter and Ryan blabbing her position.
Lucy gasped. “H
oly crap. But Nick’s not going to leak the story. Ryan would believe you and make him look bad. Besides, you have money now. Take him to court and sue his ass.”
“He doesn’t know I have money. And I spent part of it on a booth at the bridal expo. I don’t have funds yet for a long, drawn-out legal battle.”
“I’m sure your parents do. Let them—”
“Can we please not discuss my parents? My night was bad enough.” Ten years ago, she would have hired her parents to represent her. Being a client, for once she’d have had their undivided attention. As a family member, she’d have received a discount. Now, she didn’t want either. “Besides, I wouldn’t want bad press to draw attention to the scandal. If Nick really loved me, why didn’t he believe me? Why’d he take his sister Kelly’s side? He wouldn’t even let me explain how she’d framed me.”
“Because he’s a weasel.”
Cassidy stared thoughtfully down at her black stilettos. “But what if his sister had been found guilty? His family’s reputation would have been ruined and their business destroyed after three generations. It would have torn his family apart.”
The Winstons were a close-knit family, one of the things that had attracted her to Nick. Yet not only had Nick betrayed her, his entire family had let her down, after treating her like she’d belonged. The family she’d never had. She hadn’t thought about the situation from his point of view. A sense of duty to family had been outside her realm of comprehension, until she’d met Ryan and his staff.
“If he were a standup guy, he’d have done the right thing,” Lucy said.
“And not protected his family?”
“It wasn’t just a matter of choosing his family over you, but choosing right from wrong, not to mention legal from illegal.”
Ryan would do anything to protect his family. He’d choose them over a woman. He’d use her as a scapegoat in a heartbeat if it meant saving his family. The realization made her stomach lurch.
“What was Erica Turner like?”
Crap. Cassidy hadn’t met the woman since she’d bolted after only an hour. How unprofessional was that? Her purpose for attending the benefit was to check out Erica Turner. To see if she fit the profile of a psycho stalker or potential fiancée.
“Bet Ryan looked awesome in a tux.”
Mm-hmm. Cassidy touched her lips. “I kissed him,” she blurted out.
“Get out. You kissed him?” Lucy gave her a huge hug. “That’s awesome.”
Cassidy sat dazed. “No, it’s not. He’s my client. And now that Nick knows my role, I have to find Ryan the perfect match. The past six months, I’ve mourned the loss of my career, financial stability, and condo. Not to mention my self-respect and dignity.”
“And Nick.”
“Of course, and Nick.” Shouldn’t he have been at the top of her list? “I need this matchmaking service to work.” Desperation filled her voice. “A wedding lasts a day, but a marriage should last a lifetime. I could help couples ensure that it does. I’m tired of putting on a happy face at the wedding when I know the marriage is doomed. Tired of the bridezillas freaking out that Villa Luna is sold out or that the caterer runs out of shrimp. That’s not the crap that should matter.”
“To a wedding planner?”
Cassidy snapped her mouth shut.
Omigod. She was burned out on the drama and stress of wedding planning. Playing matchmaker would give her a bit of a reprieve from it, only planning part time. She didn’t need to find Ryan the perfect match for merely Ryan and the staff’s sake, revenge against Nick, or regaining her reputation. She wanted to do something that made her truly happy, like she was contributing more to people’s lives.
Yet right now, she wasn’t so sure that matching Ryan up with another woman would make her happy.
Chapter Seventeen
The following day, the Brewers were playing the Chicago Cubs. Not wanting to deal with traffic, parking, or the chance of running into someone she knew tailgating in the parking lot, Cassidy opted to take a taxi. She reluctantly pulled Kenny’s smooshed baseball cap from her purse. Lucy had insisted she wear the hat and jersey so that she blended in. She felt like a total slacker; attending benefits and baseball games while Lucy was stuck at home sorting through the applications Alex had dropped off this morning. She checked the inside of the cap for Kenny’s hair goop. Satisfied, she exchanged the sunglasses on top of her head for the cap. Slipping them on, she looked the other way and made a beeline for the elevator.
Home free. For now at least.
Only ten minutes until game time. What if Ryan no-showed because of their kiss? No, he was probably even more afraid of Fiona than Cassidy was.
She entered the skybox, and the aroma of burgers and spicy bratwursts wafted from the chaffing dishes on the counter. She scooped a handful of chips from a bowl but stopped shy of scarfing them down. Next time she wore that black cocktail dress, it damn well would fit. She dropped the chips back in the bowl and ignored the bowls of potato salad, coleslaw, and shelled peanuts. A notecard guaranteed their privacy and gave an extension to call if needed. Fiona had thought of everything.
Cassidy stepped out onto a small balcony with its row of stadium seating and peered down at the players warming up on the field. Both teams had blue-and-white uniforms. Not good. This could make things rather confusing, since the logos weren’t visible from far away. A pipe organ played “Dream a Little Dream,” echoing through the stadium, giving it a larger-than-life sound. The stadium, which held upward of forty thousand fans, had a larger-than-life feel to it, and the vast expanse could easily enable a person to blend in and go unnoticed.
“This is way cool,” a guy said, walking out on the adjacent balcony.
“Yeah, free beer,” his buddy said.
Cassidy snuck back inside. Forget blending. A gorgeous day and she couldn’t even sit on the balcony for fear of being seen. Must be how Ryan felt having to avoid the media. And not just now but his entire life. She slid onto a stool at the snack bar in front of the panoramic windows overlooking the field. The door to the skybox opened and in walked Ryan, wearing a Brewers T-shirt, faded jeans, baseball cap, and Armani sunglasses. Lose the glasses and he’d look like your average die-hard Brewers fan. He’d looked great in the tux last night, but he filled out a pair of jeans even better.
“Hi,” she managed to sputter.
He removed his sunglasses, revealing blue eyes filled with apprehension. He didn’t know how to act either.
“Great day for a game,” he said.
“It’s supposed to hit seventy. At least we’re having an Indian summer, since we didn’t really have a summer.”
As usual, weather was a safe topic. Yet it didn’t make for a lengthy discussion, and this awkward conversation would continue until they got things out in the open. Or ate.
“Are you hungry?” She zipped over to the chaffing dishes.
“Been craving ballpark brats all morning.” He joined her, grabbing a plate.
She garnished a brat with merely mustard.
“No sauerkraut?” he asked.
“Nope, kills the taste of the brat.”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
They both reached for the chips, their hands touching. She went warm all over. Awkward silence filled the air.
She slowly withdrew her hand. “About last night…”
“Completely my fault. I’m sorry. That was unprofessional, and it won’t happen again.”
Was he referring to their kiss or having disclosed her position to Nick?
“No worries. It’s forgotten.” Although, she’d been up most of the night thinking about both. She walked over to the window and slid up onto a stool. He wanted professional, she could be professional. “We’ve gotten in over three thousand applications so far.”
“That’s what Alex said. I never imagined we’d get that many, period.”
“Guess a lot of women think you’re a great catch.”
“Seems you’re going to have your work cut
out for you.” He opened the fridge. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I’ll have a wine cooler.”
He grabbed a malt beverage and a wine cooler. She smiled. He didn’t have to pretend to like beer around her. As he set their drinks and his plate on the snack counter, they were asked to rise for the National Anthem.
Singing in front of the staff was one thing—none of them could carry a tune either—but no way was she singing in front of Ryan. She slid off the stool and stood next to him. He removed his cap, then plucked her cap off and handed it to her.
“Forgot I had that on.” Excellent. He’d be so focused on her wild hat hair, he wouldn’t even notice her singing off-key.
A woman on the field belted out the anthem and Cassidy muttered along, trying to concentrate on the song rather than being mere inches from Ryan. If anything could extinguish their sexual attraction, it should be a song of war and destruction. Yet it was a rather passionate song. How had she never noticed the sexual innuendos before? Rocket’s red glare could easily refer to a man’s penis. Bombs bursting in air, without a doubt an orgasm.
Heat zipped through her body and exploded on her face.
The song ended, and she stuck her cap back on her head and dropped down onto the stool. She snagged her wine cooler and took a long drink.
“This is a huge stadium,” she said.
“Your first time here?”
“Yeah, I grew up in Chicago.”
He looked surprised. “You’re from Chicago?”
She nodded.
“Wrigley Field is a great stadium.”
“I was there once.”
“I miss our old stadium. Lots of memories.” He stared reminiscently out at the field. “Saw the 1982 World Series there. I was one. Only game I went to with my parents before we moved to France.”
“What a great memory.”
He nodded. “Game four, Yount had a four-hit game that set a record for the first player to have two four-hit games in a World Series. I missed his first game since it was in St. Louis. And that’s where Molitor broke a Series record being first player to have a five-hit game.”
