Best of Virgins Bundle

by Cathy Williams

  After all, she had slept with Hunter Axon. So why didn’t she regret it?

  Because it had been the most perfect night of her entire life.

  She sighed deeply. How could this be? How could her tender, sweet lover, the man who had whisked her off her feet both literally and figuratively, be Hunter Axon? Hunter Axon should be a glib, burly man, as grotesque looking and acting as his actions would merit.

  He should not look and act like a prince.

  But apparently she was not the only one who was susceptible to his charm. Why else would the governor be coming to a party in his honor? One would think the mere sound of Hunter Axon’s name would inspire trepidation. After all, his projects typically left a trail of devastation. Joblessness and homelessness were two of the more common side effects.

  But as Cassie marched bravely to the door, the governor was not on her mind. All she could think about was Hunter and the fact that within minutes, she would be seeing him once again.

  Before ringing the doorbell she paused and glanced down at her dress. Her grandmother had made the material herself, working after hours at the mill. Ruby had sewn the gown. Luanne had added the trimmings. Years ago Cassie had thought it to be the most beautiful dress she had ever seen, and she still felt that way.

  Regardless of the dress, Cassie still felt awkward. But why should she? She had been to Oliver’s house many times before.

  But back then she had come as Oliver’s friend. Not as the guest of his girlfriend. She took a deep breath and rang the bell.

  Willa answered. “Hello, Cassie.” She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and gave her a quick nod. “Please come in.”

  Cassie entered. She winced as she noticed what Willa was wearing. And Willa was not alone. Everyone was dressed in their work attire. The only people dressed for a ball were the tuxedoed waiters.

  And Oliver. Although he was wearing casual pants and shirt, he had attempted to make his outfit more festive by tying an ascot around his neck. Cassie couldn’t help but think he was taking this owner-of-an-estate thing a little too far. She felt like sending him back to his room to change. But then, her outfit was not much more appropriate.

  His eyes opened wide as he saw her. He came marching over, a martini glass in his hand. “Cassie?” He looked at her, confused. “What are you doing here?” She saw him glance at her dress with an expression that was somewhere between curiosity and horror.

  “Willa invited me,” Cassie said weakly.

  “Yes,” Willa said. “I was in a jam. Cassie was kind enough to help me out.”

  “I don’t follow,” Oliver said, still holding his martini glass. “Why are you wearing your prom dress?”

  Cassie stood still. She glanced at her dress, wishing she could close her eyes and transport herself back to her house. Normally she would be in her sweats getting ready to curl up with a good book.

  But she did not have to worry about answering. Willa took care of that for her. “One of the servers fell ill. Cassie is going to be taking her place tonight.”

  Cassie blinked as the words sunk in. It was worse than she thought. Willa had not invited her there as a guest but as a servant. She had walked enthusiastically into a trap.

  “Really?” Oliver said, confused. “I thought—”

  “You thought what? She’s obviously dressed to work.” Willa winked at Cassie and said, “You were smart to wear your old clothes, dear. You’ll be serving pasta.”

  Cassie glanced past Oliver, searching the room for Hunter. Was he there? What would he think when he saw her?

  But what did she care? It did not matter what she was wearing; what mattered was what she had to say.

  No, she thought, she would not allow Willa to interfere with her plans. The governor would be there tonight, and she needed to talk to him. She had a job to do.

  “Cassie?” said Willa. “Are you all right? Oh, dear. I do hope there wasn’t a miscommunication. You did realize I had asked you here to work.”

  “Of course,” Cassie said quickly. She would not allow Willa, Oliver or Hunter, for that matter, to get the best of her. Though she worked as a weaver and struggled to pay her bills, she was every bit as good as the rest of them. She took off her coat and began to roll up her sleeves. She met Willa’s gaze directly. “I’m ready.”

  “Hello,” said a familiar voice behind her. Cassie felt a flutter in her belly. Although she was doing her best to forget him, her body still craved his touch.

  “You can start by taking Mr. Axon’s coat,” Willa said to Cassie before turning her attention to Hunter. “Welcome to Oliver’s humble home.”

  Cassie turned to face him. He was wearing a black designer suit, a bright-blue silk tie and a starched white shirt. It was an outfit that radiated money, power and prestige. His brown hair was slicked back, and his brown eyes were focused on her as if to say, What are you doing here? Willa helped him off with his coat and handed it to Cassie.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Willa asked him.

  “Just water for now,” he replied, still looking at Cassie.

  She had to say something. But what? “Hello, Mr. Axon,” she said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “And you,” he replied, staring at her intently.

  No. It was not nice to see him again. It was terrible. Awful. Every time she looked at him she wanted to kiss him.

  “You heard Mr. Axon,” Willa said to Cassie. “He’ll take a glass of water.” She handed Cassie her empty glass. “And I’d like some more champagne.”

  What was going on?

  Hunter watched Cassie walk away.

  He glanced angrily at Willa. Why was she treating Cassie like a servant?

  He was tempted to run after Cassie but he knew better. For whatever reason, it was clear that Cassie did not want Willa to know about their previous relationship.

  “What do you know about that woman?” he asked Willa.

  “What woman?” she replied, as if she had no idea whom he was talking about.

  “The one who’s getting our drinks.”

  “Cassie? The one you were talking to in the stairwell this morning?”

  So, he thought, Willa was suspicious. “Ah,” Hunter said. “That’s why she looked familiar.”

  Willa smiled. “I think she works the loom, but I’m not certain.”

  “The loom?”

  “She’s a factory worker. She’s actually been a bit of a troublemaker, as well. She’s threatened to start a rebellion of sorts if we don’t acquiesce to her demands.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m afraid so. She even went to the Bahamas to try to meet with you.” Willa smiled. “But I took care of it for you. And I’ve informed her that she’s to go through me in the future. You’re much too busy to be bothered by details.”

  Details? Was Cassie a detail?

  Hunter felt his blood boil. He did not want Cassie dealt with by Willa or anyone else for that matter. He would take care of her himself. But how could he tell Willa that without making her suspicious? After all, he was usually more than happy to have Willa take care of the personnel matters.

  Willa smiled. “That’s what you pay me for. To handle problems.”

  “You seem to have handled her well,” he said. He was not liking this, not at all. Willa was an excellent employee, one who had given him years of dedicated service. In her difficult and prestigious position in his company, she was responsible for researching potential properties and companies and determining which ones Axon would attempt to purchase. Many of these were hostile, and Willa had become adept at dealing with difficult employees. Although her methods were sometimes coldhearted and cruel, she was successful. Most of the times he appreciated Willa’s skills. But not in this situation. He couldn’t help but wonder how Cassie, after threatening to start a rebellion, had fared with Willa’s wrath.

  Her smile faded. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, she’s here, isn’t she? She must have come to terms with the sit
uation.”

  “One can only hope,” Willa said. Her grip on his arm tightened.

  “I wouldn’t worry, Willa,” he said, searching the room for another glimpse of Cassie. “I can handle myself.”

  Willa said, “Of course you can.” She squeezed his arm again before letting go. “Anyway, we have more important things to think about at the moment.” She glanced around. “Like where the governor disappeared to.”

  Cassie tightened her apron. Her face burned with embarrassment as she thought about the way Willa had ordered her to get Hunter’s drink. The woman had succeeded in making her feel uncomfortable, embarrassed her in front of everyone.

  But she had not succeeded in distracting Cassie from her mission. If anything, she was more determined than ever to talk to the governor.

  Still, she could not help but wonder what Hunter thought when he saw her standing there dressed as if attending a ball. Did he feel sorry for her? Or perhaps instead of pity, he felt something even worse—antipathy. After all, she was certain Willa had wasted little time explaining that she worked the loom in Demion Mills. She had no doubt that Hunter was even more snobby than her ex-fiancé. Hunter Axon, like Oliver, would never be happy with a factory worker.

  But what did it matter? She had to forget about Hunter, forget about their night together. For that was all they were destined to have. A memory of a beautiful night.

  She walked through the hall, carrying Hunter’s and Willa’s drinks on a tiny silver tray. Fortunately, Oliver’s caterers had a wide selection of aprons. Cassie was able to find one long enough to almost cover her formal attire. But from the guests’ reaction she had worried unnecessarily about what she wore. Her apron was a signal that she was part of the catering staff, a servant. In this crowd of snobbish people, that meant one thing: she was all but invisible.

  Cassie walked back out to the hall, but Hunter and Willa were no longer there. She peeked in the dining room and stopped. The governor of New York was standing not three feet away, glancing at the lavish spread.

  She set the tray down on an antique table and took off her apron. She was determined to act before Willa intervened.

  As she made her way toward the governor, she went over the key details of her plea. She would emphasize the importance of the mill to the community, then segue into Hunter’s plans to move production overseas. She would ask the governor for his help in preventing the purchase of Demion Mills by Axon Enterprises.

  “Excuse me, Governor,” she said. “Can I please have a word with you?”

  “What?” he asked, turning around to face her. The woman standing next to him stiffened. Cassie suddenly noticed the earpiece in the woman’s ear. Like Cassie, she was not a guest. The woman was his security detail.

  Would the security woman ask her to leave? It didn’t matter. Cassie had bigger problems. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Willa and Hunter making their way toward her.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Governor,” she said. “But I need to talk to you. I work at Demion Mills. I think you should know that the people of Shanville are not happy about Axon Enterprises buying Demion Mills.”

  The governor looked startled for a moment, as if surprised by her intrusion. “Well, Miss…” He hesitated.

  “Cassie Edwards.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Edwards.” His voice, however, was anything but. Bored maybe. Or tired. But not sorry.

  He helped himself to a generous portion of roast beef.

  “He’s going to close the plant,” she said.

  He shook his head as he speared a tomato with a toothpick. “I was under the impression that he was saving it from bankruptcy.”

  “That’s not true,” Cassie said. “All we need is a change in management.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not what I’ve understood—”

  “Please,” Cassie said, interrupting him. “Isn’t there something you can do to stop this sale? Hunter Axon has the ability to ruin this community. Shanville can’t survive the loss of the mill.”

  But she had already lost his attention. “Hunter,” he said with a smile, looking over her shoulder.

  She could feel Hunter beside her, standing so close their arms were touching. “This woman,” the governor continued, “has some concerns about Demion Mills.”

  “Really,” Hunter said. He glanced down at her. Cassie could see the fire burning behind his icy eyes. So, she thought, he was not happy with her for talking to the governor. Too bad.

  “Well,” he said, “I’d welcome an opportunity to address them.”

  To undress them? Her ears were playing tricks on her.

  Willa stepped forward and tucked her arm into the governor’s as she grabbed his plate. “Axon Enterprises has an excellent community outreach program,” she said, steering the governor into the other room and away from Cassie. “Why don’t I tell you about it over dinner?”

  Cassie watched the governor walk away. That was it. She had lost her chance. To make matters worse, she was quite certain her actions would have unpleasant repercussions. She glanced toward Hunter, readying herself for a fight.

  “What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

  “I was curious as to whether or not the governor knew about your plans to close down the mill when—and if—you buy the mill.”

  “And did you satisfy…your curiosity?”

  “No,” she said.

  He gazed at her, studying her carefully. The hardness in his eyes disappeared, replaced by kindness. “You didn’t come here tonight to serve food, did you?” he asked, touching her arm.

  The feel of his hand was enough to make her quiver. But she could not allow herself to be distracted. She pulled her arm away. “I came here to talk to the governor. To stop you from buying Demion Mills.”

  The coldness in his eyes had returned. “Then I have bad news for you.”

  She stopped.

  “I’ve already bought the mill, Cassie.”

  Cassie felt winded, as if the news had knocked the last bit of breath from her. “What?”

  “I signed the papers this afternoon.” He took a step toward her. “I’m your new boss.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said weakly.

  “Why?”

  She backed away.

  “How can I be happy when a business that has been in operation for generations is being shut down? When hundreds of friends will be losing their jobs?”

  “This is not the time for this discussion,” he said, eyeing the group of people that was quickly approaching.

  When she saw Willa making her way over, she knew she was in for yet another confrontation. And she was in no hurry to cause the loss of her friends’ severance. Especially when she wasn’t getting anywhere. She looked Hunter straight in the eye and said, “I wish you had told me who you were.”

  At the mention of the Bahamas, he glanced away. “You left before I had a chance,” he said.

  “If you knew I was there, if your assistant told you a weaver from the mill had come all the way from Shanville, would you have met with me?”

  He paused.

  It was all the answer she needed. No. Hunter Axon would never have wasted his time with a mere factory worker. And she had little doubt that he would not have been willing to share his bed with one, either.

  “Yes,” he said finally.

  She glanced away. What was the point? It was hopeless. Hunter Axon had bought the mill. She was soon to be an out-of-work weaver, an unemployed factory worker, plain and simple. She was not in Hunter Axon’s league personally or professionally.

  How could she ever have thought that he would listen to her? He couldn’t care less about preserving a time-honored tradition or saving the jobs and way of life for hundreds of families. He was interested in one thing: money.

  “Hunter?” said Willa. “Is everything all right?”

  Cassie did not care to hear Hunter’s response. Before he had a chance to answer, she left.

  As Cassi
e pulled into her driveway, she glanced up at the house. The porch light had burned out months ago, and she had not yet changed the bulb. She sighed, making a mental note to add it to the list.

  She knew her grandmother would not approve of the way she was keeping house. Her grandmother would’ve been in the midst of spring cleaning, scrubbing the floors and airing out the carpets. Outside she would’ve been busy as well, bundling up all the sticks that had fallen during the long, hard winter and stacking them neatly next to the woodpile. She would’ve raked and tilled her gardens in preparation for her bulbs.

  But Cassie had not done any of that. She had meant to, truly, but the last few weeks had been spent in meetings with her co-workers, plotting strategies.

  At least, that was her excuse. Although a hard worker, Cassie did not have a natural knack for homemaking.

  “You need to pay attention,” her grandmother had once said in exasperation. And so Cassie tried. But it didn’t seem to help much. When her grandmother would mention that the watering can Cassie left in the backyard was turning rusty, Cassie would grab her camera to photograph it. When her grandmother had mentioned that a mouse had gotten into the cupboards, Cassie stayed awake all night with her camera, ready to snap.

  Finally her grandmother had given up. Cassie, it seemed, was forever doomed to make bread that did not rise, sour spaghetti sauce and hard-as-rock cookies. But despite her lack of homemaking skills, she knew her grandmother was proud of her.

  She had worked hours of overtime to buy Cassie her camera. She’d filled the house with Cassie’s photos, hanging them on the wall as if they were great works of art. When Cassie received a scholarship to college, her grandmother had told her that Cassie had made her the happiest woman in the world.

  She had been devastated when Cassie dropped out to return home to care for her. “I’m fine,” she had protested. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  But Cassie knew otherwise. The women at the mill had told Cassie of her grandmother’s fainting spells and terrible headaches. They told her that they feared her time was limited.

  And so, Cassie returned. This time, however, things were different. Cassie was the caretaker. For nearly two years she took care of her grandmother and the house as well as she could. But she had enjoyed every minute. She had loved her grandmother more than anyone in the world, and her death had left her feeling sad and alone. It was a loss from which she doubted she would ever recover.