by Eliza Watson
“You honestly believe tea leaves and a thong can help two people fall in love?”
“It doesn’t make people fall in love; it helps nature take its course.”
“Right, now that makes more sense.”
“You’re so cynical. I’m surprised it even worked. And so fast to boot. It only took two weeks for you to fall head over heels in love with someone.”
Actually, it’d been almost three weeks since he’d met Cassidy. Was it possible to fall in love in such a short period of time? If he loved her, why couldn’t he tell her that? He’d tried to, but he was incapable of saying the words. That didn’t mean he was incapable of feeling it.
“If it’s so far-fetched, how do you explain you falling in love so quickly?” she asked.
He couldn’t.
“So when’s the wedding?”
Wedding? “We’re in no hurry to get married.” Although it had to be within six months. If Cassidy wanted to marry him. He took a drink of tea, and a bitter taste filled his mouth. “What the hell is this? Where’s that licorice-tasting tea?”
“You need to expand your horizons. I don’t want you getting stuck in a rut. This is to help you maintain a positive attitude when you take the call holding.”
“Who’s holding?”
“A newspaper reporter.”
“I’m not talking to some reporter.”
“Precisely what I told him the last a half a dozen times he called, but he says he’ll keep trying back until you talk to him. So I put him on indefinite hold. He insists you’ll want to hear what he has to say.”
Not unless he was calling to say the entire Milwaukee media was relocating to Zimbabwe. “Can’t imagine he could have anything to say that I’d be interested in. But I’ll talk to him since I’m in such a good mood.” Not even the media was going to piss him off.
Melanie walked out. He slid open the desk drawer and brushed his finger over the pink thong, picturing Cassidy’s the night before. The call rang through, and he grudgingly answered it, still focused on the thong. The reporter introduced himself, reciting his credentials, speaking with the intensity of Woodward or Bernstein delving into the Watergate issue.
“I was wondering if you’d like to comment on a story we’ll be running in tomorrow’s paper.”
“What story is that?”
“A scandal involving a gentleman named Hector Simmons.”
Ryan curled his fingers around the thong, clutching it. “Where did you get that story?” He sounded much more panicked than he’d intended.
“So, you’re confirming it’s true?”
He laughed it off. “I don’t know where this person got his or her information, but there’s no scandal to report.”
“She signed a sworn statement.”
“She?” Ryan released the thong.
“Ah, merely a figure of speech,” the guy stammered. “He, she, doesn’t matter, I can’t reveal my source.” As if this woman were the next Deep Throat. “She also told me—”
“I will emphatically deny anything you print and sue your ass for slander.” Ryan slammed down the phone.
Fiona had obviously been talking to the press again, after agreeing not to. Maybe she’d said something about Hector and the media had misconstrued it, like her comment about Ryan being on craic. He hadn’t given the reporter the opportunity to actually confirm the details of the story.
He called the cook, who swore she knew nothing about the story and hadn’t talked to the media.
How the hell had this reporter gotten the story? Serena hadn’t known about it. Nobody knew about Hector’s past except for the staff. Alex didn’t even know.
Cassidy did.
The tea’s bitter taste grew stronger in his mouth.
Why would she leak the story? Couldn’t be for the cash. She’d refused the extra bonus. Unless that was a ploy to make him think she didn’t want his money… This was insane. After all, how would she think she’d possibly get away with it? Had confiding in her about Serena planted the idea in her head? Had she thought she could get more money from the story than marrying him? She’d mentioned having a friend who worked at the paper…
No way in hell did she have anything to do with this.
He could trust her not to repeat Hector’s confession. Not to hurt the staff.
On the other hand, there was the fact that she’d kept her past from him. Cassidy had also told Alex that Ryan planned to divorce his bride the first chance he got. She sure seemed to tell Alex a helluva a lot more than she told him. Maybe he should ask him if she leaked the story.
She might confide in his best friend, but she’d made love to him.
Hell, Serena had made love to him while deceiving him the entire time. Come to think of it, Cassidy had been hesitant and he’d pressed her. But there was no mistaking her reaction to their lovemaking. He’d call her and prove it.
He called her cell phone, but she didn’t answer. He slipped her business card out of his jacket. Lucy answered that number.
“Sorry. This is Ryan. I must have called the funeral home by mistake.”
“That’s okay. Cassidy’s not home right now. I’m not sure where she is.”
“She’s not home?”
“Yeah, I have the phone forwarded to our house.”
Cassidy lived with Lucy and Kenny? What was with that whole story about putting the incorrect address on the magazine? Why had she lied about something so minor as where she lived?
He told Lucy good-bye and disconnected.
He couldn’t discuss this with Cassidy over the phone anyway. But he couldn’t face her right now. Not in this frame of mind. He was 99 percent certain she wasn’t involved, but he couldn’t risk seeing her until he shook this sliver of doubt from his mind.
Chapter Thirty
“So what’s going to happen to Hector?” Ryan asked Alex, gazing out the window of his friend’s office.
“I’ll have to do some checking. International law isn’t my specialty. This happened thirty years ago; I would imagine the statute of limitations has run out on it, not to mention Aggie anonymously returned the money. You should have told me about this before. I could have saved you guys a lot of worrying. Like with Charlotte’s situation.”
“If Serena had leaked the story about Charlotte, it probably wouldn’t have caused any legal issues, but I didn’t want her to live in fear.”
Thirty-five years ago, Charlotte was a housekeeper for mafia boss Vinnie Carlucci out in Philadelphia. One of his wife’s cats was injured in a shootout in his home. During all the commotion, Charlotte escaped and rushed the cat to the vet, then fled Philly with the prize-winning pet. Vinnie posted a reward for it and likely had a hit out on Charlotte. She’d ended up in Milwaukee, working for Aggie. They became fast friends, and Aggie had bulletproof windows installed in the guesthouse where Charlotte had lived until later moving into the mansion. Charlotte and the cat were the first “strays” Aggie ever took in. The rest of the staff, and dozens of cats, soon followed.
“How did the press get the story?” Alex asked.
Ryan suddenly noticed a smear of bird crap on the window and glanced away. “Possibly… Cassidy.” A sense of betrayal wrenched his gut as if he’d been sucker-punched. Had he been a sucker?
Alex let out an incredulous laugh. “Come on, are you serious?”
Ryan nodded faintly, peering over at Alex. Voicing the possibility out loud made it seem even less likely.
The smile vanished from Alex’s face, and his gaze narrowed in disbelief. “What did she have to say about it?”
“I haven’t talked to her yet.”
“Then how the hell do you know it was her?”
“I don’t, but who else could it be?” he said, practically begging Alex for suspects.
“How about somebody from Hector’s past? Somebody who was in prison with him and was just released? Who the hell knows?”
Alex’s assistant rapped on the door and peeked in. “Ms. Baldwin’s here
to see you.”
Alex arched a brow, looking over at Ryan, who adamantly shook his head not to let her in.
“I’ll see her,” Alex said.
Ryan headed toward the door until Cassidy entered, and he stopped in his tracks. It was all he could do to keep from reaching out and undoing the buttons on her pink sweater like he had last night. She flashed him a cheery smile, and her eyes sparkled. He glanced over at Alex, unable to look at her.
“I have to go take care of something. I’ll be right back.” Alex made a quick getaway.
Cassidy stopped just feet in front of him. “I tried calling you all morning.”
He inhaled her scent, a cool peppermint, fully arousing his senses, among other things, at memories of their lovemaking. “Sorry, been a hectic morning.”
“That’s okay, just thought we should probably talk about The Dating Game.”
Shit. He hadn’t given it another thought since he’d talked to the reporter.
“Yeah, we should,” he said, nodding vaguely.
She nibbled nervously at her lower lip, appearing apprehensive. “If it isn’t going to take place, Alex needs to notify the finalists.”
Unable to think straight, he walked back over to the window. He might be able to distance himself from her physically, but emotionally was another story.
“Or…is it taking place?” she asked.
He let out a heavy sigh, staring out the window, unable to look at her.
“Well?” she prodded.
“I…don’t know.” Not the right answer.
“You don’t know?” Her voice shot up an octave, and she took a tentative step toward him.
He turned to her, raising a halting hand. “Of course not.”
She stopped abruptly. “What’s going on?”
He glanced around the room, trying to think of the right way to approach the subject, but there was no easy way. “I got a call from a newspaper reporter this morning informing me they’re printing a story about the scandal with Hector.”
Genuine concern filled her eyes. “How awful. No wonder you’re so upset. How did a reporter get the story?”
He peered into her eyes, searching for answers. She didn’t do it. He honestly believed that, yet that nagging doubt obviously reflected in his expression because the concern in her eyes turned to stunned disbelief.
“Oh my God,” she muttered. “You think I leaked the story.” She planted a hand on the back of a chair as if for support. “Don’t you?”
“No… I don’t believe you did.” He shook his head.
“Yes, you do. Maybe you don’t want to believe I did, but you do. What about Serena? Maybe it was her.”
“She didn’t know anything about Hector.” God, he sounded like he was sticking up for Serena when she was one of the reasons he had trust issues in the first place.
“Well, I doubt I’m the only one besides the staff that did.”
Same thing Alex had said. And they were both right.
He massaged his forehead, his head ready to explode. “You’re right; it didn’t seem logical.”
“There’s nothing logical about it.” She went from hurt to angry in seconds flat, and her eyes darkened. “Your conclusion was based on emotion. You don’t trust me, and if you don’t trust me, you certainly could never…love me.”
Her comment smacked him across the face. But he did love her. Not that she’d believe him now. His entire life he’d been so afraid of trusting people he kept them at arm’s length with the exception of Alex and the staff. Sure, people had screwed him over on occasion, but Alex, Aggie, and the staff hadn’t. Why was he always paralyzed by the thought of what might happen?
God only knew who could have done it, but he was certain it wasn’t Cassidy.
“I honestly don’t believe you had anything to do with this.” He stepped toward her, but she backed away.
“Don’t.” She held her hands out in front of her, warding him off. “Just…don’t. This is the second time you’ve doubted my trust. It’s better to learn this now than…after we’d gotten married.” She turned toward the door, but he stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
He grasped her shoulders, peering deep into her eyes. “Don’t leave like this.”
“Don’t make me stay like this.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Please, just let me go,” she whispered.
He reluctantly stepped aside, and she bolted out.
He’d let her leave Alex’s office, but he wasn’t letting her go. Not without a helluva a fight.
* * *
Cassidy darted past Alex and his assistant in the reception area, ignoring Alex calling her name as she flew out down the hallway. Heart racing, she stabbed the elevator button repeatedly, glancing back to make sure Ryan wasn’t behind her. No worry there.
Her head was reeling from a serious case of déjà vu.
She was caught up in another scandal.
And like Nick, Ryan believed she was guilty.
How could he believe such a thing? Her stomach clenched. Rather than waiting on an elevator, she marched over to the stairwell and started down the thirty-five flights of stairs. By the fifteenth floor, her trembling legs were about to give out and she was out of breath. When she hit the first floor, she remembered she’d parked in the attached garage, so she climbed back up three flights and took the skywalk across to the structure.
She reached her car and slipped inside. Home free.
Her cell phone sang out from her briefcase, and she jumped. She removed the phone to find the mansion’s phone number displayed on the readout. What was wrong now? Had Fiona doused herself in whiskey and was threatening to set herself on fire? Had Charlotte gotten out an Uzi and started blowing away the reporters? She fought the urge to answer the call and go to their rescue.
She couldn’t. It was time to rescue herself.
She turned off the phone.
By the time she got home, she was in complete meltdown mode.
How could Ryan believe she’d leaked that story? She’d never do anything to hurt the staff, or him. She loved them. She dropped on the couch and buried her face in her hands, trying to block it all out.
The soft melancholy cooing of a mourning dove drifted through the open window.
She surged from the couch and bolted over to the window. “Shut the hell up!” She looked down to see Kenny holding a bag of birdseed spilled out on the ground around his feet. He looked majorly freaked out. She slammed the window shut and spun around. Her gaze focused on The Dating Game board game on the TV stand.
She stalked over and took the lid off the box. She grabbed a stack of question cards and ripped them to shreds, watching them float to the floor like confetti.
“You shouldn’t play if you’re going to be a sore loser,” Lucy said, walking into the living room.
“You’re right. Why the hell did I let myself fall in love when I know I can’t handle rejection?”
Lucy’s forehead wrinkled. “What are you talking about?”
Cassidy recounted all the sordid details of her encounter with Ryan, and when she finished, Lucy looked baffled.
“So, why exactly are you ticked off at him?” Lucy asked.
Cassidy’s eyes widened. “What do you mean why am I ticked off at him?”
“He never actually said he thought you were guilty, did he?”
“He didn’t have to. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he thought I was.”
Lucy nodded sympathetically. “I can see how he might have thought that,” she mused.
Cassidy shot her friend an are you for real? look. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Well, I’m just saying, you haven’t always been up front with him. You didn’t tell him about your past. Or what about where you live?”
Cassidy’s gaze narrowed. “How did you know about that?”
“He called here looking for you. When I told him you weren’t home, he seemed a bit surprised that home was here.”
She hadn’t meant to lie about where she lived. She was embarrassed, and she couldn’t have told him the truth without explaining why in the hell she’d ever live above the funeral home. Cassidy’s shoulders slumped in defeat. And he thought she blabbed to Alex about his plan to divorce the woman a year after they married. And then there was the whole feng shui-ing his office she’d done behind his back. Not that he knew about it, but that was beside the point. He would find out sooner or later. Outside of not telling Ryan about her past, all these fibs and secrets had seemed so minor at the time. Yet they’d somehow snowballed into a humongous problem. The secrets Ryan kept had been for the staff’s sake, not for his own selfish reasons.
Her heart sank. He’d never trust her.
And she really couldn’t blame him.
She didn’t trust herself anymore.
* * *
When Ryan arrived at the mansion, the media was camped out on the sidewalk. He fought the urge to run his car up on the curb, taking them all out in one shot. Unfortunately, there were more where they came from. A never-ending supply of bottom-feeders. They’d almost ruined his life before; he wasn’t going to do something stupid and end up in prison. But they weren’t keeping him from living his life either. He opened the gate with the remote and shot through it, ignoring the reporters and cameras converging on his car. He parked in front of the mansion for the first time in two weeks and walked defiantly through the front door.
He summoned the staff to the den and got right down to business. “I received a call from a reporter today, and it seems they’re going to be printing a story about Hector’s past.” Hector looked confused. “About your embezzling.”
“That’s not the story we fed them,” Hector said.
His gaze narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“I told that young man Hector created a hybrid flower, a cross between a daisy and a tulip, and that someone had stolen it,” Charlotte said.
