“I can use my wish to make you happy,” Mia said.
It was such a touching gesture that it brought tears to her eyes. Of course, she’d been on the verge of crying all morning—heck, all night—so just about anything would have set her off. Still, it was an amazing thing from an amazing little girl.
“Thank you,” Cassie told her. “But you keep it. Use it on something for yourself.”
It probably wasn’t a good thing for her to continue to let Mia believe the star was magic, but Cassie was too drained to change that now. Maybe Mia wouldn’t be too disappointed when it didn’t work.
“You want me to make some calls to see if anyone is willing to give at least one of these cats a good home?” Della asked.
Cassie nodded. Thanked her, too. Cassie would have loved to have kept the cats herself, but she couldn’t. Not unless she moved. And changed her work schedule to stay home more. If she did that, she’d basically have to quit her job, which would mean she would have no income.
“So, you gonna pay him or what?” Mackenzie asked. She didn’t seem especially concerned one way or another.
“No,” Lucky answered before Cassie could say anything. “You’re not paying that duckweed a dime. I’ll find out where the other three cats are and...negotiate to get them back.”
Since he paused before the word negotiate, Cassie was concerned. “What does that mean exactly?” she asked.
Lucky looked her straight in the eyes. “It means I steal them.”
Cassie was about to give him several reasons why he couldn’t do that. Well, one reason anyway. He’d be arrested. But the sound of the approaching car stopped her, and she hurried to the sidelight window to look out. Maybe, just maybe, her father had had a change of heart—or to be more accurate, acquired a heart—and had decided to give her the rest of the cats.
But it wasn’t her father’s yellow Cadillac. It was a taxi, and it came to a stop directly in front of the house.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Della asked.
Cassie nodded. But certainly not this early. She wasn’t ready to deal with...
Too late.
The taxi door opened, and the woman stepped out. Marla Candor.
“Hey, I’ve seen her on TV,” Della said. “She’s on one of those reality shows. A skanky one.”
Yes, she was. She was also Cassie’s client.
Marla had followed in the paths of other reality stars to achieve fame. She’d done a sex tape, then made sure it was leaked to the press. When that hadn’t given her the desired results, she’d made six more tapes. She also had a laundry list of mental issues that probably couldn’t be addressed with a lifetime of therapy, much less the weekly session she scheduled with Cassie.
And her real name was Wendi Myrtle Stoddermeyer.
Marla wasn’t alone on this particular visit. But then she never was. She had a cameraman with her who would film every minute of the session so that the best parts could be edited and included in the TV show. Of course, the “best parts” would be when Marla talked about her so-called sex addiction. Cassie wasn’t convinced that sex was her addiction so much as her need for people to hear about her having sex.
“Della, would you please take the girls to the kitchen?” Cassie asked.
Thankfully, Della scurried them away.
“You should go, as well,” Cassie said to Lucky.
But it was too late. Marla’s attention had already landed on Lucky. Her eyes widened. She smiled, and while she didn’t exactly lick her lips, it was close.
“Cassandra,” Marla purred after she told the taxi driver to wait. But the purr was really for Lucky. So were the massive boobs she thrust in his direction. “I need to see you right away. It’s been days since I had an orgasm, and I’m about to explode. And I see the very person who can help me with that.”
“Play along,” Cassie whispered to Lucky.
To save him from Marla’s clutches, and the rest of the horny woman, Cassie leaned in and kissed him.
CHAPTER NINE
LUCKY HAD BEEN so focused on their guest—and he used that term loosely—that he hadn’t seen the kiss coming. A first for him. He could usually spot the beginnings of a kiss at fifty paces, but here Cassie had been elbow-to-elbow with him and it had still taken him by surprise.
Not the surprise of the kiss itself.
He knew it was fake. No doubt meant to stop Marla from jumping him right there in the foyer so she wouldn’t “explode.” But the surprise came from the fact that for a fake kiss, it sure packed a wallop.
Oh, man.
This wasn’t good. Fake kisses weren’t supposed to taste like that. Or feel like that. He hadn’t exactly had a barn full of fake kisses, but Lucky had some pretty realistic expectations in that area. This kiss had shot those expectations to smithereens.
“Oh,” Marla said, making her way up the steps. “So that’s how it is.”
Cassie pulled away from Lucky, and he couldn’t help but notice that she was breathing a little harder than she had been ten seconds ago. So maybe it had exceeded her expectations, too.
“Yes,” Cassie insisted. “Marla, this is my friend, Lucky McCord.”
That perked Marla right up. “A friend who shares his benefits?”
“No,” Cassie said without hesitation. “His benefits are exclusively with me for the time being.”
That didn’t perk up Marla at all. “So, what about—”
“Come on,” Cassie interrupted. “We should get started with the session. I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to LA.”
Marla looked far more anxious to examine his benefits, but Cassie hurried her out of the foyer and in the direction of the office she’d already scoped out.
“You gotta watch her hands,” the cameraman whispered to Lucky as he trailed along behind them.
It was obvious Cassie was trying to keep Lucky well out of reach of Marla’s hands. Also obvious that she hadn’t wanted Marla to finish whatever she’d been about to say.
That might have something to do with the note Logan had given him.
Soon, he’d need to talk to Cassie about that, but for now he had a cat issue to deal with, and he also needed to call Bernie to see what progress had been made on finding the girls’ aunt or some other next of kin.
Lucky made his way to the kitchen, dodging two of the cats along the way. Since he doubted Mason-Dixon had brought litter boxes, he moved that particular task to the top of his list. He called the grocery store and asked someone to bring over cat supplies and lots of them.
He didn’t have the number of the one stripper that he did know at Mason-Dixon’s club, but it didn’t take him long to get it from a ranch hand. Lucky made the call to find out if she’d spotted the other three felines, but the call went to voice mail. Lucky left her a message.
He found the girls at the kitchen table eating breakfast. At least that’s what Mia was doing. Mackenzie was poking her fork at a pancake as if testing it for signs of life.
“Miss Della made shapes,” Mia announced, proudly showing him the remains of what appeared to be a heart-shaped pancake. Mackenzie’s had probably been a heart, too, but it was hard to tell with all the punctures.
Della smiled, dished up a pancake for him, but Lucky frowned when he looked at it. It definitely wasn’t a heart even if he squinted. “No shape for me?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound too disappointed.
“Round is a shape,” Della reminded him. She dropped a kiss on the top of his head and put a jar of peanut butter on the table. His favorite thing to eat with pancakes, so he thanked her.
“So, is the skank staying?” Mackenzie asked.
Lucky debated if he should correct her for saying skank, but it seemed a G-rated enough word, especially considering Mackenzie could have used something m
uch, much worse.
“No. She’ll leave after her therapy session.” Lucky hoped. The taxi was waiting for her out front, so that was a good sign.
“And what about the cats? Are they staying?” Three questions in under a minute. A record for Mackenzie.
“I’m still working on that.”
“I want ’em to stay,” Mia declared before cramming more of the pancake in her mouth.
Since this might be his best chance at having a real talk with them, Lucky dived right in. He dived right into the pancake, too. “Tell me about your aunt Alice. Is she a nice person?”
He might as well have asked what it was like to walk on the moon because both girls gave him a blank stare. “We gotta an aunt Alice?” Mia asked.
Lucky tried not to groan. He’d hoped that since the woman was their mother’s half sister they had at least met her. It would have even been better if they’d known her and been excited about the possibility of living with her. But no dice.
“Did your mom ever talk about her sister?” He aimed that one at Mackenzie since he wasn’t even sure Mia would remember their mom.
Mackenzie continued to put fork holes in the pancake. “Is that who you’re trying to pawn us off on?”
Honestly, yes. But he wouldn’t dare say that to them. Besides, they wouldn’t be going with the aunt unless he was sure she would give them a good home. And just because they didn’t know her, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t be a good guardian.
“A lot of people are trying to find your next of kin,” he explained. “Your aunt Alice is just one possibility.”
“What’s a poss-a-bilty mean?” Mia asked at the same moment her sister demanded, “Who else?”
Lucky glanced at Della to see if she could help, but she gave him a “you’re on your own” shrug.
“A possibility is someone who might get the chance to take care of you and love you.” That part was for Mia. Lucky turned to Mackenzie for the rest. “Right now, only your aunt Alice is on the list,” he admitted. “But we’re working on others. My brother Logan is making some calls. So is the lawyer. I’ll also be making some myself.”
He’d barely finished the explanation when he heard a sound. A moan of some kind. The sort a water buffalo might make when in heat. And it was coming from the office at the back of the house where Cassie was having her therapy session with Marla. When there was a second one, even louder than the first, Lucky hurried back to make sure someone wasn’t having a seizure.
“Is everything okay?” he asked when he reached the door.
“Why don’t you come in and see,” Marla said, giggling. And moaning.
The door opened, just a fraction, and Cassie poked her nose in through the narrow opening. “She can have orgasms by just thinking about it. My advice, don’t come in here. Oh, and watch out for her hands.”
Lucky was so intrigued by the double hand warning that he almost wanted to go in there just to see what it was all about. Almost. But he’d moved out of the curiosity-killing-the-cat stage about the time he’d sprouted his first chest hair.
“It won’t be much longer now,” Cassie assured him. “Once she’s finished this orgasm, she’ll be ready to go.” And she shut the door.
This sure seemed like a long way to come for an orgasm, especially one Marla could have just by thinking about it. But maybe she needed Cassie coaxing her or something.
Which, of course, totally interested him.
Lucky blamed that on the fake kiss. It had heated up some things inside him.
He started back to the kitchen so he could keep an eye on the girls, but he’d hardly made it a few steps when the office door opened again, and Marla came waltzing out. She looked a lot happier than she had when she’d gone in even though there hadn’t been much time for mental foreplay.
She smiled when she saw him, continued waltzing. Except she grabbed his balls when she went past him.
Well, hell.
It not only shocked him, it also hurt. That’s what the warning was all about. The grab wouldn’t hinder his chances of fathering children should he ever plan on doing that, but he might walk funny for a while.
“I did warn you,” the cameraman said, and that’s when Lucky noticed that the guy was keeping his distance. And walking funny.
Cassie followed the pair, but she stopped once they’d cleared the kitchen. Probably because she didn’t want Marla around the girls. Lucky agreed with that.
“You want to talk about this?” he asked Cassie.
“No,” she said without hesitation. She checked her watch. “I guess I can get started with some calls about the cats.”
“Not just yet,” Lucky said. Since the girls were still at the breakfast table, this might be the best chance he got to talk to Cassie alone. He pulled her back into the hall and out of earshot of anyone in the kitchen.
“If this is about that kiss...” she started.
“It’s not.” Best to leave that subject alone. He had a lot of experience with lust clouding his judgment, and that kiss had fallen into the lust category for him.
“Then if it’s about Marla grabbing you—”
“That’s not it, either.” Lucky took out the note. “It’s about what’s in this.”
“That’s the paper you had in the hall earlier. Is it about the girls’ aunt?” But she froze. No doubt because of the expression on his face. “It’s about me.”
Cassie groaned and would have moved away from him if Lucky hadn’t taken hold of her.
“Let me guess,” she snapped. “Logan went digging into my life.”
Since that about summed it up, Lucky nodded.
“He had no right,” Cassie insisted.
“I agree with you, but it’s just something Logan does. He wanted to make sure none of this was a scam. And yeah, his digging into your life probably started to make sure you weren’t part of that theoretical scam. But no scam.”
However, it was something much worse.
“Let me see the note,” she demanded.
He handed it to her, but Lucky figured she wasn’t going to like some of it. Mainly because it wasn’t just a note. It was a one-page report from a private investigator Logan kept on retainer.
Lucky watched as her eyes skirted over the first part. Her bio and work history. No surprises there, but her eyes stopped skirting on the section that had caused him to pause, too.
Involuntary commitment to Sweet Meadows Meditation and Relaxation Facility in Oregon.
There weren’t many other details, only her commitment date, which was a week ago. But Lucky figured that “involuntary commitment” phrase said it all. There was also the name of the person who’d had her committed, but that was all that the PI had apparently been able to get.
It was enough.
“The only reason I showed you that,” he said, “was because I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Yes, I’m okay!” she snapped. But then almost immediately she sagged against the wall. Just that short outburst seemed to have exhausted her, and Cassie gave a weary sigh. While still clutching the paper, she covered her face with her hands. “Obviously, I’m not okay. You saw what happened to me.”
Lucky wasn’t sure how to approach this, whether he should question her more about that or not. She certainly hadn’t seemed eager to discuss the panic attack. However, while he was having a mental debate with himself, Cassie must have taken his silence as an opening to explain herself.
“The panic attacks started last month,” she said. That seemed to make her angry. Maybe at herself. Maybe at him. Maybe at Logan for uncovering this. “I missed some of the signs with a patient. I screwed up big-time.”
Lucky took her hands from her face so he could make eye contact. “You want to talk about it?”
She scowled, maybe beca
use he sounded a little like a therapist. Not intentionally. He just wasn’t sure where to go here. When women started crying, he usually found some excuse to get the heck out of there, but that was part of his old baggage. Cassie might need him to ditch that baggage for a while and listen to her.
Or not.
“I’ll check on the girls,” she said, and she would have darted right out of there if he hadn’t stepped in front of her.
“The girls are fine.” He hoped. But he wasn’t so sure about Cassie. “Look, I can handle them and the cats. If you need to go back to that place in Oregon, then go.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not crazy.”
Lucky held up his hands in defense. “I didn’t say you were.” But this would have been a good time for him to say something else, something reassuring, instead of letting his gaze drift to the paper that she had wadded up.
Because he was right in her face, Lucky saw the exact moment that she got it. That he was concerned about those two words.
Involuntary commitment.
Cassie backed up, huffed. Then sighed again. “I had a bad attack and ended up in the ER. Someone convinced the staff that I needed help, and that’s how I ended up at Sweet Meadows.”
Lucky got the feeling that was the toned-down version of what had happened.
“Someone?” he repeated. And he knew the name of that someone because it was on Logan’s report. “Who is this Dr. Andrew Knight who had you sent to that place?”
More huffing and sighing. “I meant to mention all of this earlier, but it slipped my mind. He’s my boyfriend. More or less.”
Well, that was a mouthful. This was the first he was hearing of a boyfriend, even one that she considered more or less.
Whatever the heck that meant.
“Andrew overreacted,” she added. “He does that sometimes, and we’re having a cooling-off period because of it.”
Translation—she was pissed because he’d put her in that place. Lucky didn’t blame her. He would have been pissed, too, and there would have been more than just a cooling-off period. He would have dumped the jerk.
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