by Stewart, Anna J. ; Sasson, Sophia; Carpenter, Beth; Jensen, Muriel
Grady wore a wide smile and fist-bumped her. “All right!” he said. “Well done! But, you know, we should walk out. There are people wanting to get on.”
Basking in the glory of having ridden in the elevator without screaming, Cassie had failed to notice the three young women dressed for evening, clearly on a girls’ night out. They waited to go upstairs.
She apologized and exchanged smiles with them as they laughed and got into the elevator.
Then one of them gasped; a beautiful brunette with a short do and wide, dark eyes. “Cassidy Chapman?” she asked softly, blinking then leaning a little forward as she stared into her face. “The supermodel? In Beggar’s Bay? Oh, my God. Oh, my God!”
Other people in the lobby noticed the commotion or heard her name and came to cluster around her as she signed one woman’s shopping list, another’s address book and the third’s tissue.
“What happened in Ireland?” the small blonde of the group asked frankly.
Cassie related the story, leaving out the part about her claustrophobia. “I didn’t know she was deaf when I shouted at her. I was tired and anxious to get home to my family. It was bad behavior, but I apologized and she accepted.”
They nodded. “Of course,” the brunette said. “We knew there was more to it than SAN says. Preston was such a jerk to cheat on you.” She turned back to smile at Grady, her manner admiring and flirtatious. “Who’s this?”
“Grady Nelson,” she said. “One of Beggar’s Bay Police Department’s finest.”
“Oh.” The tall redhead with them looked him up and down. “I thought he was a model you’d brought with you from Paris.”
He shook her hand. “She prefers dark-haired men,” he said. “I’m her landlord. Please excuse us. You ladies have a wonderful evening.” He caught Cassie’s hand and pulled her with him across the lobby and out the door.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I’M SORRY ABOUT THAT,” she said as they drove toward home, neon lights in the few blocks of downtown brightening the darkness. “Even small towns have fashionistas. And the redhead and the brunette seemed to like you.”
He sighed theatrically. “I know. It’s the fair hair. You really don’t know what you’re missing with your fascination with dark-haired men. And the bod, of course, thanks to the police department’s gym. All in all, my babe appeal gets to be a burden sometimes.”
She was laughing before he’d finished. He pretended hurt feelings and demanded, “What? You don’t think I’m cute?”
She stopped smiling to study him seriously, a light still in her eyes. “No,” she said as he turned up Black Bear Ridge Road. “‘Cute’ is not the word I’d use. And ‘handsome’ isn’t quite right because sometimes you have these sharp, dangerous moments when handsome just doesn’t cover it.”
“Dangerous?” He glanced quickly at her. “Me?”
“Emotionally dangerous,” she clarified. “Like a woman could get lost in you.” She paused as they drove into darkness, nothing lighting the road but the splay of his headlights. Then the almost-finished construction site of the senior retirement home appeared on the right and the school on the left. As they moved on, darkness descended again and she added quietly, “Or, maybe, find herself in you. Either way, the notion’s scary.”
Several heartbeats passed in the darkness. “Like I’m someone’s missing piece?” He caught her hand that rested between them on the seat and kissed it. His lips were warm and dry as he kissed it again then let it go.
“Exactly like that.” She spoke on a gusty breath and put her hand on his knee. “Oh, Grady.”
“Almost home,” he said, his voice low and tight. He turned into his driveway, screeched to an awkward halt and turned off the car.
Cassie flew sideways, wrapping her arms around his neck, finding his mouth in the shadowy confines of the truck and kissing him until she couldn’t breathe. He kissed her back with the same depth of emotion, the same out-of-control need to take in as much of her as he could.
She felt one hand under her short jacket, caressing her back through her dress, the other hooked around her knee, holding her to him.
* * *
GRADY WAS ABOUT to lose his mind. He wasn’t at all aware of coherent thought, ignoring the flashing Warning! Warning! lights in his head. He was more absorbed in the wonder of her body eagerly pressed against his, her lips wandering along his throat, to his ear, nibbling lightly on his earlobe. Her fingers caught in his hair and held as she stole every breath from his body.
She raised her head slightly, loosed her grip on his hair, and even while he tried to pull her back, she pushed against his shoulder and said in disbelief, “Oh, geez! What are they doing here?”
“Who?” he asked, not really caring, dropping kisses on her clavicle.
“My father,” she replied. “And your mother.”
“What?”
They knocked heads as she ducked to slide off his lap and he raised his head to look toward the house. He spotted his mother’s Mini Cooper, which he hadn’t noticed when he pulled in. And, on the other side of it was a simple coupe he also hadn’t noticed. He strained to see through the windshield.
Standing under the overhanging deck, in the path of the truck’s headlights that had yet to turn off, stood a tall, white-haired man in jeans and a dark gray stadium jacket. Standing next to him was Grady’s mother, but he had to look twice to recognize her. Her hair was straight instead of its usual curly, and kind of fluffed out and a little punky. He wondered absently how she’d done that. And she wore a long, dark blue coat he’d never seen before, held tightly around her against the cold evening.
“Dad!” Cassie cried. She jumped out and appeared in the path of the truck’s lights, running into the man’s arms. The pickup lights went out and only the spotlight above the side door shone.
Grady got out of the truck, lamenting the loss of the evening’s intimacy.
Cassie caught her father’s arm and led him inside the house while Grady followed with his mother. The moment reminded him of the night he’d brought Cassie home. Cassie and her father stopped in the foyer, and Grady, his mother at his side, looked into the questioning eyes of Donald Chapman.
Cassie made introductions. Grady offered his hand and Chapman took it in an impressive grip. “Thank you for helping Cassie,” he said. “She told me about running from Texas, then you offering her the loft for the duration of her stay.”
“Mostly, it’s been my pleasure. I mean, in the first place, what man doesn’t dream of running off with a supermodel?” he said. Donald’s ice-blue gaze said no decision had been made on his worthiness yet. “And in the second, she’s an excellent cook. But then, I guess you know that.”
“I do,” Chapman said then questioned, “You said ‘mostly’ a pleasure?”
Grady smiled. “You must also be aware that she tends to…uh…take action, even when it involves someone else, without a lot of thought, and without consulting that someone else.”
Chapman seemed to understand. “That’s how I was hired to install a computer system for Le Sacré-Coeur School for Girls in a poor area of Paris. For free.”
Grady nodded understanding. “And how is it that you’re here with my mother?”
“She’s brought you an orange-cranberry bread,” Chapman replied. Diane dutifully held up a brick-shaped package, wrapped in foil. “I had arrived just before her with a wedding gift for Corie and Ben.”
“But she has…” Grady began, about to add “a key” when his mother’s eyes grew enormous and he suddenly understood the cautioning look. He thought quickly. “She has a very hospitable nature. Let me take your coats. Wine or coffee?”
She could have brought him inside, but had been reluctant to?
Donald laughed. “I’m afraid wine would put me to sleep.”
“I
’ll put the coffee on,” Cassie said and then turned to his mother with a smile. “Orange-cranberry bread would go really well with that.” Diane handed it over.
Grady led Donald into the great room and detoured to the guest closet with his coat.
“Couch is comfortable,” he said when he turned to find the man standing in the middle of the room.
“How is she?” Donald asked, lowering his voice. “She told me she isn’t upset about the Ireland thing, but I’m sure she has to be.”
Grady encouraged him again to sit. “I think she was at first,” he said, also speaking quietly, “but her brother and sister don’t care. None of us does, so she’s getting over it.” He took the chair at a right angle to the sofa.
“Good. She works very hard at what she does and has never been one to think of herself as better than anybody. I was so happy for her that Jack found her.”
“We all had a great time in Texas.”
“Yes, Cassie told me you were there, too.”
“I’d just been dumped by a girlfriend and Ben…” he said with a philosophical shrug. “He’d gone there to talk to Corie…” That was true. Poorly detailed, but true. “He’s my partner in the police department here. He felt sorry for me, needed help with something and invited me to Texas.”
“Cassie tells me she fainted in your arms when she got there.”
“And that will always be one of my fondest memories. She hadn’t eaten anything before her flight out of Ireland and, despite how tough she is, she was pretty fragile.”
Donald nodded, watching him but not saying anything, so he went on. “You seem to know all about how we got here. Amazing plane, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“I think she’s enjoying Beggar’s Bay. She said you’re thinking of retiring.”
“I am. My work was fun for a long time, but now I need a less hectic pace.” He seemed to think back. “I remember loving Beggar’s Bay when I lived here with Cassie, Corie. And Jack’s mom.”
“Do you have somewhere to stay or would you like to stay with us? I’m sure Cassie would love that.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
There was a moment’s silence while Donald’s expression changed to one of regret. “Cassie’s mother was a lovely woman when she was sober, but, for whatever reason, she couldn’t manage to live that way very long. Even for her kids or for me.” He looked into Grady’s eyes. “Are you wondering how a drug counselor could so betray a client by falling in love with her?”
Grady leaned back. “I don’t feel qualified to judge anybody. And, as a cop, I see a lot of things that defy understanding or explanation. Life’s tricky.”
“We just fell in love. For a while it was pretty great. She stopped using and I got to know her wonderful kids. Unfortunately it lasted just long enough for Cassie to be born, then the stress of having to cope with real life and a new baby did her in and she started using again.
“When Cassie was six months old, I told Charlene I was leaving and taking the baby with me. She called her advocate at Adult and Family Services and put on a great front of being the perfect woman and mother, and I was denied full custody.
“I left. Moved to Maine. I learned Charlene had killed her boyfriend, and the kids were being sent back to their fathers. So, I did get my daughter, though under sad circumstances.”
Grady decided he liked Donald Chapman. He was mistaken about what had happened then, but it wasn’t Grady’s place to clarify that. “She often talks about what a happy childhood she had with you. In fact, she feels guilty about it because Jack and Corie had such a hard time for a while.”
Grady’s mother appeared with two plates holding slices of her orange-cranberry bread. He stared at her for a minute, thinking she looked like someone else’s mother. His had never been this fashionable. She’d taken the coat off to reveal a red sweater and black slacks. The sweater had a fancy collar with wooden buttons that seemed to button nothing. Interesting concept.
“Thanks, Mom.” Grady stood to pull out the rocker she usually preferred so that she could sit with her back to the fireplace. “This bread sustains the Beggar’s Bay police and fire departments during the holidays,” he told Donald.
“I can’t sit yet,” Diane said. “I’m supposed to find out if you want her caramelly coffee or the usual stuff you drink.”
Donald’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me she brought that dulce de leche stuff with her?”
“She claims she never travels without it.”
“Then, I’ll have some. I’ve learned to like it, too.”
Grady pulled his mother back. “You sit and entertain Donald—”
“Don,” Donald corrected. “Please.”
“Don, with stories about Beggar’s Bay. He lived here for a while. I’ll help Cassie with the coffee.”
He noticed that she smiled shyly at Don. The world was filled with wonders.
* * *
CASSIE UTTERED A little cry of surprise when she was suddenly spun around and inclined sideways. She gripped the arms that suspended her. Grady’s. “What are you doing?” she demanded on a giggle.
“It’s called a dip,” he said gravely.
“And why didn’t you execute this dip on the dance floor earlier?”
“There wasn’t room. And I think it goes with the tango.”
Still hanging from his arms, she reminded gravely, “But we haven’t tangoed.”
He brought her up swiftly, theatrically, so that they were face-to-face, their lips barely an inch from each other’s. Her hair had fallen from its artful arrangement atop her head and was in disarray all around her.
“We have tangoed around each other,” he said with a deliberately devilish quirk to his eyebrow, “since the day I brought you here. I’m tired of it.”
She couldn’t breathe as all her body’s processes halted. But her senses worked. He smelled of that spicy aftershave he always used, held her with a strength that was exhilarating while making her feel completely safe, and he was a sight to behold—a hank of old-gold hair fallen onto his eyebrow, pale eyes with their dark rims completely focused on her, lips firmly together as though preparing to make a statement. He said, “On New Year’s Day, immediately after the wedding, we’re going to figure out when I’m going to visit you in Paris. I’m wild about you, Cassie.” He looked into her eyes then crushed her to him. “Meanwhile, your dad’s going to hang out with us for the wedding.”
She hugged him back fiercely, so happy he didn’t mind accommodating yet another of her family, ecstatic that he wanted to visit her. “Oh, thank you, Grady. He can have the loft and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No, he can have my room.”
As he placed a hand to her cheek and kissed her, she felt that every ounce of his energy was entangled with every ounce of hers. But a little cautionary corner of her brain said to her, “Wild about you” isn’t the same as “I love you,” is it?
She reasoned that she wouldn’t want him to say “I love you” if he didn’t mean it.
If he’s wild about you, why doesn’t he mean it?
She turned off the little voice in favor of living the moment. This was almost the end of the old year, and the end of her old life. Well, she might have to do a lot of the same things, but she’d be different inside. She had a father, a brother, a sister. And a man she was not afraid to admit she loved.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ON NEW YEAR’S EVE, Cassie’s call to Denise confirmed that the flowers were on their way. She took the rest of the ribbon to the florist at Beggar’s Bouquet. Denise showed her the small basket whose handle she would wind with ribbon for the flower girl, and told her to try not to worry, that despite the shortage of time, she’d done hundreds of weddings and all would be well.
Cassie stopped
at Robertson’s Party Supplies and bought napkins, paper cups, two sizes of paper plates, and plastic wine glasses. She rented a couple of white table covers.
In an uncharacteristically edgy mood, she went grocery shopping. Judging by the snack trays she’d prepared the other day from the contents of Grady’s fridge, and his preference for cherry fritters, she guessed non-fat, gluten-free and dairy-free were not priorities. She was enjoying having time to cook.
She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her, unless it was Grady’s insistence that he was “wild about” her. She tried to be cheered by the fact that the details of the wedding were under control, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the flimsy nature of that declaration. The kiss had felt very genuine, and he wanted to visit her in Paris. He even seemed pleased that she’d be coming back to Beggar’s Bay to stay. She was in love—even if it had only been a week. The time between Christmas and New Year’s Day was charmed, alive with miracles and magic. But was he in love, too?
She understood that his inclination toward realism was hard to fight, particularly because of who she was and how she lived.
She was the woman who’d made him leave the Texas Christmas get-together early, who’d invited herself into his life by having nowhere to go when they got to Beggar’s Bay. She was the one who’d scared him with her reaction to the elevator and turned his home into a wedding warehouse. She’d put him on top of a ladder then awakened him in the middle of the night with her own desire.
He’d known that however much she wanted and needed him, she’d change his life forever. And he wouldn’t want that.
She’d faced that realization several times over the past few days, but it seemed to put her in a particularly dark place today. It took her to the past.
She knew with certainty that it was impossible to make someone love you. Her own mother, for example. She didn’t remember her, but she knew that drugs had been more important to Charlene than her own children. And some of her father’s girlfriends had been kind to her, but others had resented her presence in his life and hadn’t cared to get to know her.
