When she was finished, she looked at him and smiled.
“Impressive,” he said.
“Now close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close them.” She took his hand. He heard a door opening and knew immediately that she had taken him into the heart of the factory. “Smell,” she said.
He did as she asked, inhaling a distinct, sweet smell. “I noticed it on my first day here,” he said. “What is it?”
“The smell of history. Old machinery and fresh silk.”
He opened his eyes. She led him over to an old loom. “See those,” she said, pointing to the threads gathered on the loom. “By the end of tomorrow those threads will be part of an intricately patterned piece of fabric.”
He nodded toward a machine in the corner. It looked like something one might see in a museum. “What is that?”
“It’s a device for twisting cords for tassels. It was invented by Leonardo da Vinci. It hasn’t been changed much since.”
She took his hand and ran it over the fabric on the loom. “Does this feel familiar?”
Despite the intricate pattern and the number of threads that had been used, the weave was so tight it felt like a single piece of sleek silk. “Should it?” he asked.
“This is the same material that’s hanging in your bedroom in your boat. The material you don’t even recognize took two people one whole week to make.”
“I’ll be sure to appreciate it when I get back.”
She sighed. “Can you?”
“What do you mean by that?”
She shrugged, not wanting to answer. But she didn’t have to. He knew what she had been implying—perhaps he wasn’t capable of recognizing beauty.
But she was wrong, he thought, as he admired her delicate, rosebud lips. He could not only recognize magnificence, he could appreciate it. “Just because I didn’t recognize my drapes doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate them.”
“It’s not a matter of appreciation. It’s a matter of noticing. I think if you had noticed you would have appreciated them. But you were too busy making the money needed to buy such luxuries.” She shook her head. “I think a lot of people are like that. Life is something they endure. They’re so busy surviving that they don’t really live. So busy making money that it somehow loses its value.” She looked around her. “That’s why I’m so fond of this place. It reminds me of a simpler time. A time when making a living with your hands was nothing to be ashamed of.”
“It’s still not.”
“Everything is equated with money. If it doesn’t make money, it’s not appreciated.”
“That’s true in a sense,” he admitted. “But, Cassie, you can’t stop progress. And you can’t turn back the clock.”
She hesitated and then nodded sadly. “Unfortunately.”
Hunter knew right then and there that Willa was wrong. It was not revenge that motivated Cassie, but love.
It was nearly two in the morning by the time they returned to Cassie’s house. Despite the late hour, neither was ready to end the evening. They built a roaring fire and settled next to each other on the couch with steaming mugs of hot chocolate.
Cassie leaned her head against Hunter’s shoulder. Once again she was tempted to speak her thoughts out loud and tell him that she wished the night would never end.
But she had learned her lesson before. She would stay quiet, no matter how difficult that might be.
“This is nice,” he said, brushing her cheek. “I almost wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”
“Are you returning to the Bahamas?” she asked as coolly as she could manage.
He shook his head. “Paris.”
“Oh,” she said, obviously disappointed. “How long will you be gone?”
He hesitated. After a pause he said, “Look, Cassie…”
She knew what was coming next. And she was to blame. There had been desperation in her voice. And now she would get the speech. I never meant to lead you on. I never meant to imply that things were more serious than they seemed. We barely know each other….
And she had no doubt he meant it. But she had seen tenderness in his eyes and felt passion in his arms. She didn’t want to think that the feelings he had brought to life inside her would be silenced once more.
But there was no choice. She had no more power over the fate of their relationship than she had over the fate of her beloved mill.
She held a finger to his lips. She couldn’t bear to hear it. “Hunter, I didn’t mean it to sound the way it did. Let’s just enjoy tonight, okay?”
But the mood was ruined. She straightened slightly, pulling away. Hunter cupped her chin and directed her back toward him. “Cassie,” he said. “I need to talk to you about the mill.”
So she had been right about the speech. But she was wrong about the subject matter.
Had he changed his mind about selling her the mill? Is that why he seemed so distracted? Was he feeling guilty?
“I’ve decided to give you the patent.”
She sat so still, she held her breath. “The patent for Bodyguard?” she said finally.
“That’s right.”
“But we can only afford our original offer—”
“I don’t care about the money.”
“You don’t?”
He shook his head. “But I do care about you. And I can’t sit back and watch you walk into a situation that I know is destined for failure. Which is why I’m going to provide the financial backing for the release of Bodyguard. I’ve assigned a marketing team to help you with the rollout.”
It was better than she could have hoped. She hugged him. “Thank you.”
But he did not respond. He pulled back and flashed her a sad smile. “You’re still going to need a lot of luck, Cassie.”
And suddenly all she could think about was him. She did not want to say goodbye. Not then. Not ever.
He said, “I do, however, have one demand.”
There was a catch? “What?”
“Come with me to Paris.”
“Paris?” She had dreamed of visiting Paris since she was a child.
“I have some work in a neighboring town, but it won’t take me long.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll come.” He paused. “It’s just a week. One week and you’ll be back.”
It was not Paris that enticed her so much, but the idea of spending an entire week with Hunter.
“Well?” he asked.
She looked into his kind and gentle eyes. They were not the eyes of a corporate baron. They were the eyes of a man who was willing to listen when others wouldn’t. A man who was willing to give her a chance. They were the eyes of the man she loved.
There was no guarantee their relationship would last. Nor was there any guarantee she would not return from Paris with a broken heart. But it didn’t seem to matter. “What time do we leave?”
Fourteen
Cassie’s skilled fingers flew over the loom. She glanced around her. The floor where people normally worked in quiet or hushed tones was a flurry of activity. It had been a long time since Cassie had seen everyone so happy. It was as if the dark cloud had lifted.
So why wasn’t she jumping for joy? After all, she had every reason to be ecstatic. The mill was saved, the patent returned. She had woken up in the arms of the man with whom she was desperately in love. They were leaving that night for Paris.
Luanne leaned forward and said, “When are you returning?”
“In a week.”
“Take your time,” said Ruby.
“You deserve it,” said Luanne.
Cassie attempted to smile. What was wrong with her?
Why did she feel so vulnerable? As if the floor was about to give way underneath her?
Because Hunter had not said the words I love you?
Why would he? After all, they had only known each other for a short time.
Unfortunately it was not that simple. She suspect
ed her affection would never be returned.
For, despite his humble origins, Hunter was a man who prized material wealth above all else. He was a product of the society he helped support, the fast-paced corporate world where emotional connections took a second place to business contacts.
Cassie was suddenly aware that the din in the room had silenced.
Suddenly she heard a voice that sent chills down her spine. “Cassie?”
She turned. Willa was standing behind her.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“She’s busy,” Luanne said.
“It’s all right,” Cassie said. She smiled affectionately at her friends. She knew they were being protective, but she could handle herself.
She followed Willa into the empty hall.
Willa shut the door behind them and turned to face Cassie. “I’m going to be leaving soon. I wanted to congratulate you before I left.”
Cassie couldn’t help but think this was some sort of trick. What was Willa up to? “Thank you,” she said.
“I hope there are no hard feelings.”
“None.”
“Excellent,” Willa said. She nodded toward the picture behind Cassie. It was a black-and-white close-up of threads gathered in a ponytail on a Jacquard loom. “You took that photo, didn’t you?”
Cassie glanced behind her. She had taken the picture while still in high school. Her grandmother had shown it to the manager of the mill, who had insisted on framing it and hanging it on the wall. “Yes,” she said.
“You’re really quite good. It’s a shame you never had a chance to pursue your photography.”
“I’m happy working here,” Cassie said.
“So you say. Still, it’s a shame your talent will never go anywhere. I mean, with your new responsibilities and all. You’re hardly going to have time to brush your teeth, much less explore the arts.”
“Is there a point to this, Willa? I need to get going.”
“That’s right,” Willa said. “You have a plane to catch, don’t you?”
Cassie glared at her.
“I wanted to congratulate you on that, as well. Scoring a trip with Hunter Axon. My, my. Very impressive. An affair with a man like him…well, that’s quite a notch in your belt.”
“Goodbye, Willa,” Cassie said, her hand on the door.
“Of course, that’s all it will ever be,” Willa said. “An affair.”
Had Cassie not been having the same thoughts, she might have been able to keep walking. But because Willa seemed to be reading her mind, because she was saying exactly what, deep down, Cassie had been thinking, she hesitated.
Willa took a step toward her and said, “Do you know why he’s going to France?”
“He has business.”
“He’s buying a wine-making factory. It’s in a small village outside of Paris. Families from the town have worked there for generations. We’re getting it for quite a steal. See, they don’t want to sell, but they have no choice. They’re in debt. So Hunter’s going to shut it down and produce the label in California.”
Cassie was silent.
“All those families that have depended on this factory for hundreds of years are going to be displaced.”
Cassie looked away. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m pointing out the obvious. I’ve known Hunter for years.”
Cassie had heard all she could bear. She opened the door.
“It will never work,” Willa said. “And you know that. You’re just postponing the inevitable. And quite frankly, you have too much work to do to be so distracted. From one woman to another, the last thing you need is another heartbreak.”
“I said goodbye.”
“Oh, before I go…If you do get lonely, you might want to call Oliver. I’ve broken it off with him, and the poor dear isn’t handling it very well.”
“Too bad,” Cassie said. “You seemed so well suited for each other.” She slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.
As she made her way back to the loom, she was aware that work had stopped and every eye was on her.
“Honey?” Luanne said. “Are you all right?”
No, she wasn’t. In one split second her world had spun out of control, her hope for the future dashed.
Hunter was going to France to shut down another plant. To wreak havoc on more lives.
And for what? Money? Didn’t he have enough of that?
But what did she think? That he had changed? That her short time with him had made him see the error of his ways?
“Why don’t you sit down,” Mabel said, touching her arm.
But Cassie barely heard her. How could Hunter do that? It was hard to understand how someone who could be so kind and caring one moment could be so unfeeling the next.
And as much as she cared about Hunter, could she really be with someone who could inflict so much pain on others?
But her question was, in all probability, moot.
Actions Speak Louder Than Words. And Hunter’s actions were sending her a message. Nothing had changed. He was still the same man who had threatened their community. The man who worshipped money.
The man who would never love her.
And Willa, as much as she hated to admit it, was right. Cassie was too busy to let herself be distracted by a fling. Even if it came with a mill, a trip to Paris and a marketing plan.
Hunter finished reading the contract. It detailed the transfer of Demion Mills to the workers, emphasizing that his team would help with the marketing of Bodyguard.
It was the first time he had given back a property. Yet he had no regrets. It felt good to be helping the community. To have people thanking him instead of cursing his name.
In fact, he was, for the first time in years, happy.
Was it possible?
It was such a strange feeling for him that he wasn’t quite sure how to respond.
Of course, his happiness was due to more than just the mill. The reason for his newfound bliss could be summed up in one word: Cassie.
From the moment he met her he realized this was no ordinary affair. He was entirely bewitched. It was difficult to believe that a woman who could be so enticing, give him the most sexual pleasure he had ever experienced, could also be so innocent.
But his attraction was based on more than just sex. She was the most honest, dedicated and loyal person he had ever met. Seemingly unimpressed by monetary wealth, she valued those things that Hunter had almost forgotten existed, the little everyday occurrences that made life special. Whether to admire a sunset or to feel soft fabric, she encouraged him to slow down, to stop and notice things that he had taken for granted.
His decision to invite Cassie to Paris had been spontaneous yet inevitable. Usually he did not enjoy having women with him on business trips. They were distractions at a time when he preferred to be focused. But Cassie was different. With Cassie, it was the business that was the distraction. He would’ve preferred to spend all of his time with her. He did not want to be apart from her. Not now or ever.
Hunter was distracted by a knock on the door. He glanced up and smiled as he saw Cassie.
“I was just about to come and see you,” he said. “I spoke to the travel agent. She’s booked us in an old inn in Loiret. The vineyard I’m buying isn’t far away. You’ll have a couple of days to sightsee but I’ll be back in time for dinner.” He stood up and walked over toward her, put his hands around her waist. “After which, I’m going to take you to Paris. I’m going to show you whatever you want to see.”
She stepped backward, away from him. She bit her lower lip, and her eyes, usually bright and full of life, looked glazed with despair.
Alarmed, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
She met his gaze directly. “I can’t go to Paris.”
“Why not?”
“I have responsibilities here, responsibilities that can’t wait.”
“Cassie,” he said patiently. “It’s two weeks before the mill
is officially transferred. And my marketing team isn’t arriving until next week. You’ll be back in plenty of time.”
She glanced away. “My reason for not going has nothing to do with the mill.”
An icy fear cloaked his heart. “What, then?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to Paris to take over a company?”
He felt a stab of guilt. But why should he feel guilty? He was not ashamed of what he did. Was he? “I didn’t think it would make a difference.”
She shook her head. “It’s not right. Buying companies and putting people out of work.”
“It’s not that simple,” he said. “I’ve built three brand-new factories in China employing hundreds of workers, people who were desperate to earn money.”
“That’s commendable, but it’s not as if you’re running a nonprofit organization. What happens to all those people whose jobs you’ve taken away?”
“Not everyone lives in Shanville, Cassie. In some situations workers are more than happy to be offered a severance package.” He argued mechanically, presenting her with the same defenses he used to ease his guilty conscience. “These are companies close to bankruptcy.”
“You’re putting people out of work. You’re closing up mom-and-pop businesses that have been in families for years. You’re making money off other people’s misfortunes.”
His eyes hardened as he was overcome by a raw and primitive grief. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m some sort of…monster?”
She stood up. “No. That’s not the person I see. But…” Her voice faded.
“These businesses,” he said, taking a step toward her, “these mom-and-pops that I take over, are destined for failure. I save whatever is left and turn them into profit-making ventures.”
“For whom? Not for the families who have given them their life.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Hunter. But I think it’s commendable only if you prize money above all else.”
So this was it? She was breaking off their relationship because she did not like his job?
He had the feeling it went deeper than that. And as much as it pained him, he needed to know.
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