by Tina Susedik
“No, it wasn’t a problem, and he didn’t spend the entire weekend with us. Just Friday night and Sunday at the zoo. Oh yeah, there was Saturday night when he happened to see us eating supper out.”
Bess scooted to the edge of her seat and leaned toward her sister. Her eyes glimmered. “So dish it out, girl. What do you think? Isn’t he gorgeous? And nice, too. He’s so good with kids. Did you have fun?”
Cassie stared at her sister, then leaned forward into her face. “You set us up, didn’t you, you rat?”
Bess didn’t answer, but her smirk said it all. Cassie gave up and decided to give her sister an altered version. How could she relay the weekend without thanking her sister for playing matchmaker?
“After seeing and smelling those disgusting shoes, I had this picture of what type of man wore them. Fat, dumpy, dumb. Since I had the phone off the hook, he couldn’t call and let me know when he was coming over, so when he showed up, I was totally unprepared. You know how I was dressed when you dropped the kids off?”
Bess rolled her eyes.
“Then, just before Hogan showed up, your youngest smacked his carrots all over me and the kitchen. Your second child answered the door before I could. Imagine my surprise, although a pleasant one, when, instead of the man I imagined, there stood the hunk of the year. While I was trying to gather my wits, your oldest child gave Billy milk, which he proceeded to dump over his head. He screamed as if someone were murdering him. I ran into the kitchen, slipped on the carrots, and landed on my behind. Hogan raced behind me into the kitchen, wiped out on the mess, and fell flat on his back. We hadn’t even had a chance to introduce ourselves.”
Bess wiped her tears of laughter from her eyes.
“What?”
“I knew my kids were good for something.”
Bess mentally patted herself on the back as Cassie continued to regale her with the disasters of the weekend. Even with all the problems, Cassie’s face glowed with a happiness Bess hadn’t seen in a long time. She was surprised Cassie was able to overcome her aversion to rich men. Why kick a gift horse in the mouth? Her sister deserved some happiness.
Since that jerk of an ex-brother-in-law had cheated on her, Bess rarely saw Cassie smile or her eyes light up and twinkle as they did now. Even before her sister’s marriage was over, the light had gone out of Cassie. She could just kiss Hogan for putting that sparkle back where it belonged.
The problem was trying not to act too smug about putting the two of them together. Bess simply wouldn’t admit it—anyway not until the marriage certificate was signed.
If she’d invited Cassie over when the guys were playing ball, it would have been an obvious set-up; what with her and Rob as a couple, and Jill and Brad together. Well, putting two and two together would mean Hogan and Cassie. Cassie would have balked and found an excuse to leave the first chance she got.
She couldn’t wait to tell Jill their plan worked. They both knew Hogan and Cassie would hit it off. It had just been a matter of figuring out how to get them in the same room at the same time. And, oh, the gorgeous children the two of them would create.
Bess needed to quit thinking and listen to the entertaining story.
“. . . then it ended with him telling me he was going to call me tonight and my telling your oldest, darling, blabbermouth daughter not to tell anyone.”
“Well, actually, she didn’t tell me. It was Jaz. In fact Emily was quite upset when Jaz mentioned Hogan had spent so much time here. They do adore him, you know. Once Jaz got going, Emily had to add her two cents worth. If I recall, though, she promised not to tell Annie.”
Cassie shook her head and laughed. “Seems like I have a lot to learn about kids and secrets. Especially your kids.”
Bess reached over and took her sister’s hand. “Cassie, you are wonderful with the kids. Why do you think I wasn’t worried about your taking them for the weekend? Now tell me more about falling on top of Hogan on the kitchen floor, and his kissing you, and all the good stuff you’ve left out of the story.”
A small smile graced Cassie’s lips. From the faraway look in her eyes, Bess knew her sister was re-living something special. Anyway, she hoped so.
“Am I right in guessing the kids aren’t the only ones taken with Hogan?”
Cassie’s smile grew, lighting her face. “Oh, Bess. He was so wonderful. He helped with the kids and was easy to talk to. He was kind, gentle.”
“Kiss, sis. I want details. How often did he kiss you?”
“With your kids here, not nearly as much as I would have liked.”
“Isn’t he handsome? Now how do you feel about his . . .?”
Before she could say anything more, Emily and Jazmine came downstairs. “I can’t find Dolly, Mommy. Can you come and help us?”
“Where did you look?”
“In the room where we slept and in Auntie Susie’s room. We looked under both beds.”
Bess stood and brushed dust balls from her daughter’s head. “I’ll go look.”
Cassie shifted Jasmine between her legs. “I understand you told your mommy about Hogan.”
“Jaz has a big mouth and can’t keep secrets.” Emily gave her sister an accusing look. “Besides, you told me not to tell Grandma. Mommy isn’t Grandma.”
“It’s all right, honey.” Cassie hugged her nieces as Bess came back into the room. “Jazmine, Mommy found your doll. Will you be able to sleep at night, now?”
“Yup. Dolly keeps the monsters away.”
“C’mon, girls. We have to meet Daddy for supper.” Bess handed the doll to her youngest daughter.
Cassie helped with coats and walked them to the door. “Don’t tell Annie. You got that? I don’t want the inquisitor at my door this weekend. If this doesn’t work out with Hogan, I won’t have to make up excuses. Okay?”
“Got it. I promise. Cross my heart, hope to die, spit my sister in the eye.” She spit in her hand and touched Cassie’s face. “I truly hope this works out for you, Cassie. You deserve some happiness.” She gave Cassie a kiss on the cheek. “Luv ya. Bye. Say bye, girls.”
She waved back as they walked to their car then turned back to her too quiet, too empty, too lonely house.
Later that evening, Cassie tossed the oak-stained rag into a bucket, her woodwork project done for the night. “I give up.” She stomped up the stairs, cursing her stupidity in believing a man when he says he’s going to do something.
“Did he promise you? No. Even though Bess seems to think the world of him, Hogan is a man and men just break promises.” Cassie searched her mind trying to recall if he’d actually said he’d call or if he’d said he’d call Friday night.
“He did say he’d be out of town. That, I remember.” Her stomach growled as she washed her hands and yanked on her nightshirt. “Should have known better and made myself supper. No. Stupid, stupid me makes herself a sandwich so I’ll be hungry in case he wants to go out for dinner. What a dufus. If I weren’t so tired I’d order a pizza.”
The thought of ordering a pizza brought back memories of the pizza she’d shared with Hogan. Wishing he hadn’t lied to her, she slipped into bed then tossed a pillow over her head, repeating to herself, “I will not think of him. I will not think of him.”
After several hours of tossing and turning, Cassie pushed her pillow aside and turned on a bedside lamp. A romance novel lay on the lace-covered table. Propping the pillow behind her back, she picked up the book and started reading. She found herself relating to the heroine, who thought she was being slighted by her lover. Always a sucker for happy, sappy endings, she sniffled and blew her nose. Real-life endings were never like that. But she could dream.
If only she knew where Hogan was and what time zone he was in. Maybe it was someplace where the times were so different he couldn’t reach her. And maybe he didn�
��t want to call because of the stupid love comment. And maybe she should just quit worrying about it. Her eyes, blurred and burning, finally closed as sleep overcame her, book in her lap, head slumped to her shoulder. She never noticed the phone half-hidden under the bed skirt, the receiver off its hook.
Chapter 9
Hogan slammed the phone back into its base. “Damn it all anyway,” he yelled into his empty Paris hotel room. “Nothing but delays on this damn trip.”
He walked out onto his balcony and took in the sights over the city. The concrete floor of the balcony, still holding heat from the day, felt good against his bare feet. His last flight from London to Paris had been tiring. He rolled his neck to relieve tension knotted up like a rope used to keep an ocean liner docked.
From his fourth-floor room, he watched the bright Parisian lights twinkling for miles, reminding him of Cassie’s sparkling eyes when she laughed. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower stood against the darkening sky. As long as he was going to be stuck in the city over the weekend, he could visit it later. The way the week overseas had gone, though, he’d be in meetings all weekend, too. Four cites in five days was too much.
Hogan dragged his fingers through his hair. It had been one hell of a week. He felt if one more thing went wrong, he’d quit the FBI, sell out his shares in the family business to the first bidder, buy a little house in the country, and enjoy life.
In his guise as spokesperson for the family business, he was able to follow leads in the smuggling case. He’d already met with investigators in several countries.
Instead of being on his way back to the States, he was stuck in a yet another foreign country. A ten-hour delay in New York on Monday, a plane repair before takeoff in Taiwan two days later, and a threatening hurricane in Hong Kong, forced him to move his meeting to London. When a secretary mixed up flight schedules, he was re-routed to Paris and was now stuck in the “City of Love,” jet-lagged, lonely, and frustrated.
To top it off, the Bureau wanted him to travel to India and Indonesia next week to follow a few leads while pretending to meet with potential buyers for the business. Between business meetings and those with the FBI and USNCB, the National Central Bureau, the US branch of Interpol, he simply wanted to bury himself under blankets and sleep for days on end. But it seemed whenever he thought he was on the right trail, his leads went cold.
While he didn’t regret his time in the military, he now wished he hadn’t been part of the CID. His knowledge of antiquities had caught the eye of the Army’s Criminal Investigation Division and, like with the FBI, his job was to ferret out those military personnel who thought they could bring anything they wanted back to the States. After leaving the service, they kept him on as a consultant. Between the CID, FBI, and his parents’ business, he was stretched thin.
At some point in time, he was going to make a mistake. Like Sunday at the zoo. Of course, he hadn’t almost missed seeing Tony because of being tired, it was simply because he was paying too much attention to Cassie. And now he could add worrying Cassie being included in the investigation. His brain said she was involved. After all, she’d been married to one of the suspects. But his heart said no. He was torn.
Yes, the idea of selling out his share of the company and leaving the bureau was becoming more and more appealing. He was bone weary tired. Besides, he was ready to settle down. Marry. Raise a passel of kids.
Couples strolled across the boulevard several stories below. Arms entwined, holding hands, kissing. It seemed there were lovers everywhere, reminding him of Cassie—a good reason not to go to the Eiffel Tower. Seeing more couples doing their thing would make him miss her even more. If no meetings were scheduled for tomorrow, he would just hide out in his hotel room, order room service, and sleep the weekend away. And try calling Cassie. Again.
A man and woman stopped under a streetlamp, wrapped their arms around each other, and kissed with so much passion, Hogan felt the heat four stories up. The man’s hands cupped the woman’s rear and then moved up under her blouse. The woman ran her fingers through his hair and ground her pelvis into what was probably a raging hard on. Hogan’s mouth went dry. The way they were going at each other, he was afraid he would be a witness to a vertical love dance. He wanted to yell down for them to get a hotel room.
He shoved away from the railing, and went back into the room. Watching the couple outside brought thoughts of Cassie and the few kisses they shared. The power of their simple touching of lips shook him. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if they had really kissed, the type of kisses involving crushing lips and dancing tongues. He ran a hand over his face. He needed a cold shower and to call Cassie again.
By Wednesday, when he realized he wouldn’t be returning on Friday as planned, he tried reaching her. The seven-hour time difference made things difficult. He couldn’t call her when he was done with meetings because she was at work. Besides, he didn’t know the phone number or the name of her employer. He didn’t know if she had e-mail or what the address was. By the time she was done with work, he was asleep. If he called her at home when he got up, she would be in bed. The few times he managed to find the right time to call, she either didn’t answer or her line was busy. He didn’t have her cell phone number or knew if she even had one. He vaguely recalled her saying she took the phone off the hook when she was working on the house. He sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case tonight.
Hogan glanced at his watch and chuckled, recalling how he’d botched up the time on Sunday. This trip he only brought one watch along, just to get used to changing the time. He didn’t want to make the same mistake when returning to Milwaukee. Right now it was eight o’clock, which meant it was only one in the afternoon stateside. Cassie would still be at work. If he could just stay awake until midnight, he would be able to catch her at a decent time. Hopefully she remembered him saying he would call Friday night. Now if he could only stay awake that long. A threatening yawn and bone-jarring weariness made that possibility slim.
A knock on his door signaled the arrival of a late supper. A pot of very hot, strong coffee sat on the tray beside a can of caffeine-packed cola, a steak, and baked potato. Maybe between the coffee and cola, the caffeine would keep him awake. After tipping the waiter, Hogan propped some pillows against the headboard. He sat on the bed, resting his back against the pillows, and put the dinner tray on his lap. Using the remote, he clicked on the television trying to find a station showing a movie he could follow without having to understand French. His knowledge of the language was slim at best. He could carry on a conversation if the speaker spoke slowly, but fluent dialogue was beyond him. He found Casablanca, a favorite of his, and one he could comprehend in any language. As he watched the ill-fated love story between Bogart and Bergman, his movements from food to mouth became slower and slower, until finally sleep overcame him. His hand fell to the tray, his head to his shoulder. He never saw Bogart give up the love of his life.
His explosion was nearing. Hot and sweaty, his hard-on ached. Long, red curly hair moved across his stomach, the tendrils sending shock waves to every synapse of his body. Her hands ran up the insides of his legs, moving closer and closer to his balls, while she planted long, wet kisses down his stomach.
The anticipation of where her mouth would end up was killing him. He wanted to shove her head down, helping it reach its final destination. He grabbed the sheets in both hands when her tongue darted out, licking the insides of his crotch, then moved to the base of his penis.
He was going to explode. His body jerked. His eyes popped open as something cold and wet seeped through his clothes.
“What the hell?” After a few moments of disorientation he recalled his luxurious hotel room in Paris. His neck screamed in pain when he raised his head from his shoulder. The dinner tray he’d so carefully balanced on his lap slid further onto the bed, threatening to spill more of the dishes onto the floor. A brown coff
ee stain spread across the white bedspread. The cola can lay on the edge of the bed, its contents dripping onto the thick beige carpet. A single rose, stuck out from a white vase, had tipped on its side, the water adding to the mess on his lap. The remains of the steak sat on the bottom of the tray. Only the baked potato, with its congealed butter and sour cream, was undamaged.
He rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t had a wet dream since he was a teenager spending his summers at the cabin, watching the teenage girls wearing their skimpy bikinis. The dream had seemed so real. The woman was Cassie.
It had been a while since he’d had sex, but no one had even come close to getting his libido going like she did. Even during his three-year relationship with Sonja, he’d never had this reaction. Her slim, overt sexuality didn’t come close to making his cock stand up and salute just by thinking about her. When Sonja left him for someone richer, he found he didn’t miss her or the sexual side of the relationship.
Hogan flopped his head back against the headboard. When his shaking hands calmed, he set the tray on the bed. Housekeeping would have to come and change the sheets. He’d call the front desk and then try Cassie. The dampness between his legs made him realize he probably should take a shower and change clothes first.
“Damn.” He dug through his suitcase until he found a pair of boxers and T-shirt. After changing clothes, he cranked up the heat to get rid of the chills flowing through him. Since he had brought clothes for one week and he was going to be gone for two, he collected his dirty things to give to housekeeping for washing.
Hogan shut the door after the last of the cleaning crew. As he suspected, no one mentioned the mess, but he noticed the tight-lipped frowns the employees gave each other during the process. It seemed to him the men who removed the mattress and brought in another, had grunted their displeasure especially loud, but he was sure his generous tip alleviated any discomfort they’d suffered.
