Troy brushed his hand through his hair. “We are only working on a deal together. One deal, honey.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Cassie—”
“Emily said my father offered you a job.”
“I didn’t accept it.”
“Did you say no?”
Troy hadn’t. It was a dream offer. One he didn’t want to turn down. “Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to discuss the offer with you.” He held her hand. “Cassie, I should have told you last night, but I had something else on my mind.”
She jerked her hand away. “Like seducing Dixon Daniels’s daughter?”
“I had you on my mind, nothing else.” Her reaction angered him. How could she accuse him of seducing her? She had been more than a willing participant. “You’re not being fair.”
“What you did wasn’t fair.” She gritted her teeth. “Using our engagement, using me.”
Troy rolled his eyes. “This deal has nothing to do with you and me.”
“But the job offer does.”
“I didn’t solicit your father for a job. He offered.”
“You used me.” Her voice cracked. “You used me to get close to my father. I should have known better. Thinking someone like you could love someone like me.”
Troy did love her, but if he told her now she wouldn’t believe him. “If I wanted to use you, don’t you think I would have slept with you in Carmel? I had the opportunity if you recall.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I think you should go.”
“Not until I’ve had my say.”
Her eyelids flew open. “There’s nothing you can say. I trusted you, Troy. I really did.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I should’ve known you were no different than Eric.”
Cassie had no right to compare him to her worthless ex-fiancé and brother-in-law.
“Wait a minute,” Troy said. “If you trusted me, you wouldn’t be saying any of this. You’d know I wouldn’t use you. Why does everything have to be so black-and-white with you?”
“Because it’s easier that way.”
He sighed.
“You must be pleased with yourself. Eric had to sleep with both Emily and me to get what he wanted. You only had to sleep with me.”
“Please don’t take this to the extreme, Cassie. I’m not Eric.”
She stuck her nose in the air. “If you say so.”
Troy didn’t need this. “Let’s get a few facts straight. You’re the one who approached me and asked me to pose as your fiancé. I wasn’t hiding anything from you. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t want any of this.”
She gripped the comforter. “But you aren’t complaining about what it’s gotten you, are you?”
“Cassie, don’t.” She didn’t understand; she didn’t know he loved her. “I—”
Her lips tightened. “Don’t apologize and don’t worry about the engagement party.”
“I don’t care about the party, Cassie.”
“Yes, you do. Don’t worry, I won’t jeopardize your hard work and your precious career. I’ll be the perfect fiancée. But as soon as the party is over, I never want to see you again.”
She couldn’t mean it. He would give her a few minutes to calm down, give himself a couple, too. Troy put on his shirt, then realized it was inside out. Reversing the shirt, he put it on again. He finished dressing while she stared at the wall. “Are we going to let a little misunderstanding come between us?”
“A little misunderstanding?” she asked. “This isn’t little, Troy. This is about you and me using each other. Oh, yes, I admit my part in this whole charade.”
“Believe me, Cassie, I’m not using you.” He was running out of time. He couldn’t walk out without letting her know how he felt. “I couldn’t use you. I—I love you.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that.
Her eyes widened. “It doesn’t matter, Troy.”
“How can it not matter?”
“Because we want different things from life. We’re different.” Her eyes glistened with tears. She pounded her fist against the bed. “This proves it.”
“We may be different, but not where it matters.”
“You mean in bed?”
He was so close to getting everything he wanted. He couldn’t give it up now. “Cassie—”
“My name is Cassandra.”
The front door slammed. Cassandra wouldn’t cry. Not over Troy. He didn’t deserve her tears. Clutching the comforter on her bed, she poked a hole through the cotton fabric with her fingernails, but held her tears at bay.
What a fool she’d been. Again.
Hadn’t she learned her lesson the first time thanks to Eric Wainwright? Falling in love only caused pain.
Why did she think falling for Troy would be different? Because she wanted to believe he was different. She wanted to believe she’d found her Prince Charming, her Mr. Right. But she’d been wrong.
Troy was no different from Eric, from any man. She was an easy target. She knew better than to think men like that would want her, could love her. She’d made the same mistake twice, falling for two men who had used her to get close to her father. No one with any career aspirations could resist the lure Dixon Daniels offered. Why would Troy resist?
It made sense now. The flowers, the earth-shattering lovemaking. Make that sex, she corrected herself.
Who cared about Troy McKnight anyway? She didn’t need him; she didn’t need any man. She had her bookstore; she had her own life. She would simply forget him. He’d fade from her memory like a poorly written novel. She simply needed a little time, say a hundred years.
Her McKnight in shining armor? What a joke. So what if she could still smell his intoxicating male scent? She would wash the sheets. So what if she missed having his warm body next to her? She would get a pet. So what if she’d never experienced pleasure of such mythic proportions before? She would get a—no, she wouldn’t.
Cassandra brushed her hair behind her shoulder. She would be the woman Troy wanted her to be and get through the engagement party. She’d gotten hurt before and survived. Somehow, she would survive this.
Love. Troy said he loved her. She almost believed him; she wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t. Not now.
She didn’t want to love him; she wouldn’t love him anymore.
Rubbing her eyes, Cassandra ignored the void inside her. An emptiness, as if a piece of her heart had walked out the door with Troy. But that was ridiculous. She was overreacting, that’s all. A void. She tsked. It meant nothing. Nothing at all.
Waiting for the bus, Troy leaned against a graffiticovered wall and rubbed his chin. The sharp stubble dug into his fingertips. He needed a shave, a shower and clean clothes. Those were things he needed. He didn’t need Cassie.
The bus stopped in front of him. Troy reached into his pocket. His empty pocket. All of his change belonged to the man selling flowers at the airport newsstand. His wallet was in his jacket, and his jacket was at Cassie’s.
Damn. No money, no ATM card. The bus pulled away, leaving a trail of foul-smelling exhaust. He was tired, too tired to walk clear across town. Tired enough to sit and think for a while. Brushing his hand through his hair, he sat on a nearby step.
Things weren’t turning out as he planned. He’d planned on being made a partner, becoming a millionaire and providing for his family. Sitting in a doorway like a bum wasn’t part of his plan. Meeting and falling in love with Cassie wasn’t part of his plan, either.
Troy wanted to get married and have children, but he had a definite image of the kind of woman who would make him a good wife. He wanted a woman who would be the perfect venture capitalist wife. A woman who would support his goals and be understanding about his work and fit in with the crowd.
Cassie was none of those things. Though beautiful and intelligent, she was also free-spirited and unpredictable. Conformity was a four-letter word to her. Cassie didn’t fit his image, but he loved
her. Was love enough?
An old man with a weather-beaten face and snowwhite hair sat next to him. The man wore tattered, grungy clothes and carried an overloaded duffel bag. He needed a shower worse than Troy did. “I haven’t seen you around before, so I thought I’d warn you. Crazy Teddy sleeps in this doorway, but he shouldn’t be back until later.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Troy said.
“Nice pants.” The old man touched the wrinkled fabric. “You steal ‘em?”
Troy wore Armani. The old man had taste. “No.”
“Bad day, huh?”
“You could say that.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.” The old man buttoned his army issue jacket. “Must have something to do with a woman. No one likes to talk about that.”
Another bus stopped. A stream of passengers unloaded. A yuppie-looking couple stared at Troy and the old man. The woman, wearing a combination of J. Crew and L.L. Bean, handed two bus transfers to Troy. “Have a nice day,” she said before rejoining her significant other.
Troy stared at the pieces of paper. “You want one of these?”
The man smiled a toothless grin. “This is my home. I don’t need to go anywhere.”
Troy needed the transfer, but did an average homeless person need one? He didn’t think so. “I need to go home.”
“Where is that?”
Good question. Home wasn’t his luxurious Marina apartment with a view of the Palace of Fine Arts. Home wasn’t his parents’ farm. “I wish I knew.”
“I’m happy here,” the old man said. “More sun than other parts of the city. I used to live in the park, but that didn’t work out.”
Before Troy could say anything, a man in an expensive jogging suit strolled by. He wore a Walkman and hundred-dollar running shoes. He handed the old man a dollar. “Spend the money on food, not liquor.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” The old man gave a mock bow before handing the dollar bill to Troy. “You look like you need this more than me.”
He didn’t need the man’s money. Troy had a bus transfer. He could get home on his own. What was he thinking? He had plenty of money in the bank, an IRA at one of the top mutual funds in the country and a great job. “I can’t take your money.”
“You look like a good kid.” The old man pushed the dollar into Troy’s hand. “Take the dollar and take some advice. Clean yourself up and get a job. Find a woman to love and make a home for yourself.”
Troy could have all those things. “Sounds like good advice.”
The old man nodded. “I had all of that once, but I let it slip away. You’re young enough. You still have a chance.”
Troy clutched the dollar in his hand. Suddenly this one bill felt more important than the millions he planned to make. “I’ll try.”
“And always remember where home is.” The man’s eyes focused on something Troy couldn’t see. “I forgot. When I finally remembered, it wasn’t there anymore.”
Cassandra rubbed concealer under her swollen, red eyes. She had to pull herself together. The party was in less than two hours. Checking her reflection, she realized she needed to do something with her hair. Talk about a bad hair day…
The doorbell buzzed.
Her heart leaped into her throat. She ran to open it, unsure of why her pulse raced. Emily, wearing flowing black pants and a matching bolero jacket, stood with a metallic cosmetic box and a set of hot rollers in her hands.
Not now. Cassandra didn’t need this. “Why was it so important for you to come over?”
“This is the first party I’m throwing as Mrs. Eric Wainwright.” Emily marched into the apartment and set her things on the floor. “Lots of VIPs will be there. I have to make a good impression and I want everything to be perfect.”
“Including me.”
Emily nodded. “Is that so bad, Cassandra?”
“No, it’s…”
Her sister was the perfect wife. The kind of woman Troy wanted, needed. No wonder Eric had dumped her for Emily. Just like Troy would. Cassandra blinked back the tears.
Emily gave her a hug, an uncharacteristic hug that opened the spill gate of Cassandra’s tears. “What’s wrong?”
After a few minutes the tears subsided. “I’m sorry, Emily. I hope I didn’t get your jacket all wet.”
“I’m not worried about the jacket,” Emily said. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to guess why Troy’s luggage and suit jacket are sitting by your door and he’s not here?”
“He forgot to take them with him.” Cassandra hesitated. “It’s over. We’re over.”
“No, it isn’t.” Emily placed her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to let a lovers’ quarrel ruin my party.”
“Don’t worry, your party will go on as planned.”
“Thank goodness. Daddy would kill me.” Emily patted her chest. “I thought I was experiencing heart palpitations.”
“Why would Daddy care?”
“The party was his idea, but for some reason he wanted me to throw it.”
Cassandra didn’t understand, but at the moment she didn’t care. She cared only about Troy. If only…
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“Not really.”
Emily walked to the kitchen. She grabbed a cucumber from the refrigerator and sliced it. “Lie down and put these on your eyes.”
Cassandra lay on the futon with the cold cucumbers on her aching eyes. A drawer opened and closed. Water ran in the sink.
“Here you go.” Emily placed a wet cloth on Cassandra’s forehead. “Do you have any aspirin?”
“In the bathroom, but I don’t want any.”
“They’re not for you,” Emily said. A few minutes later, she returned to the living room. “Are you wearing the little blue thing on your bed?”
“Yes.”
“The pearls you got for graduation would be perfect. And you should wear your hair up. I’ll plug in the hot rollers.”
Emily was being too nice, too understanding. Cassandra didn’t know what to say. “Okay.”
“Eric told me Troy talked about you all week.”
“He did?” Cassandra hoped it were true. But it was too late. Her stomach tightened. She was going to be sick.
“Yes. The man’s crazy about you.” Emily sounded sincere.
“It’ll never work.” The words were for Cassandra’s own benefit as well as Emily’s.
“Why would you say that?”
Because I’ve been there before. With Eric. “We’re too different. Troy doesn’t want me. He wants me to be…”
“To be what?”
Cassandra stared at the seeds on the cucumber. “To be like you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Though I can’t imagine why he’d want that.”
“You’re everything I’m not,” Cassandra said finally. “You dress stylishly, have a trendy hairdo, know the right things to say and when to say them. You don’t stick out like a cast member of. a freak show.”
“I’m boring and stuffy. A little anal, too. Someone once called me a snob. Can you imagine?” Emily sighed. “You’re like a butterfly or a breath of fresh air. You always have been. When we were growing up, you didn’t notice or care how beautiful you were. Still do. And when you stopped rebelling and started behaving after the kidnapping…I couldn’t compete. You were still you, but you were edging in on who I was. I hated that. I hated you.”
Cassandra noticed the past tense of the verb. “Emily—”
“We’re grown-ups now,” Emily said. “Time to put our petty jealousies and competitiveness behind us.”
Could it be so easy? “But, Eric—”
“Look, we can discuss this until we’re blue in the face, but it won’t change the past. We can’t change the past. Agreed?”
Unsure of what to say, Cassandra hesitated. She’d always felt like the wronged party and never considered Emily’s f
eelings in the matter. The least Cassandra could do was meet her sister halfway. It would be a start “Agreed.”
“Do you love Troy?”
“More than I thought possible,” she admitted. Telling someone was such a release. Even if that someone was Emily. “But I don’t want the same things he wants. I can’t be the kind of woman he wants me to be.”
“Then don’t. Be who you are,” Emily said.
Cassandra hadn’t been enough for Eric; she wouldn’t be enough for Troy. “Who I am isn’t good enough.”
“Then to hell with Troy McKnight. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Emily, really,” Cassandra said, shocked by her usually prim and proper sister.
Emily smiled. “You sounded like Mom when you said that.”
“I know.”
“Let me see how your eyes look.” Emily took the cucumber slices and damp rag from her. “Much better. Now we need to get you dressed for the party. By the time I’m finished, Troy will take one look at you and either fall to his knees or run to the nearest exit.”
For a moment Cassandra had forgotten about the party. “Why are you doing all of this for me?”
“Because we’re sisters,” Emily said. “And it’s about time we started acting like it.”
11
Troy paced the foyer of the Pacific Heights mansion, his steps sounding on the marble-tiled floor. Cassie was late. Not that promptness was one of her priorities. Still it worried him.
Was she coming to the party?
Or not?
He wanted her to come; he needed her to come.
If she didn’t come…
The massive stained-glass door opened. A man and woman stepped inside.
Where was Cassie? The partners from his firm were already in the ballroom drinking the expensive liquor and eating the delicious-smelling hors d’oeuvres. So were half the other guests.
The door opened again. Let it be her. And it was.
As Cassie stepped inside, Troy sucked in a breath. No crystals, no broomstick skirts, no boots. But pearls. She wore a strand around her neck. He couldn’t believe it. This was the woman he wanted her to be, always knew in his heart she could be. Two thin straps held up the ice blue material that floated above her knees as she moved. Elegant, but slightly daring. The dress showed the right amount of curves. Enough curves to send his blood rushing to places he didn’t want it to go. “Cassie.”
Fiance for the Night Page 14
