by Tina Susedik
Cassie didn’t respond. Had she fallen asleep? He swallowed hard. She should be flying high and ready to take on the world like he was. Snoozing was definitely not part of it. Something wet slid down the side of his arm. Tears? He heard her murmur something about “. . . more lies.”
“Cassie? Are you all right?”
“Uh-huh,” she answered, her voice catching between the two syllables.
Hogan tugged her toward him. Her head rested in the crook of his arm. More tears welled in her eyes, then slid down her cheeks.
“You’re crying. Oh, God, I hurt you.” He wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb. “What a jerk. I got so carried away, I didn’t think about hurting you.”
The tears kept coming. His heart filled with pain. “I was trying to go slower this time and I thought we were until . . . Geez, honey, I’m really sorry.”
Cassie reached up and cupped Hogan’s cheek in her hand. “It’s all right, Hogan. You didn’t hurt me.”
“Then why the tears?”
“I never knew.” She swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks.
“I don’t understand.”
Cassie turned her face away from him. Hogan cupped her chin and turned it back.
“I was thinking about my ex-husband.”
“What?” He lay on his back. Jaws clenched, his heart raced. Great. He makes wild passionate love to a woman and she thinks about her ex-husband. Hogan jerked his arm from under Cassie’s head.
“Hogan, wait,” Cassie held him in place. “I wasn’t thinking about him while we were making love.”
“Ya, right.” His voice dripping with sarcasm. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her about her ex and the things he was involved in.
“Hogan, please. If you’ll let me finish, you’ll realize it’s good. Very good.”
He snorted, then decided to hear her out before he packed their bags and drove her home. Maybe she’d say something to help the case. “Oh, all right, tell me about your ex. I promise I won’t interrupt.”
“I was married to him for three years. I’m not sure why I married him and even less sure why he married me. I guess I thought I loved him, but I know now, I didn’t. Anyway, sex was never that good with us.”
Hogan’s heart picked up speed. Sex not good with Cassie? Was the man demented? Why would a man go for a floozy like the woman he was with at the zoo and not some sweet, sexy woman who had been his wife? How could sex not be good with this wild, passionate woman? He kept his thoughts to himself as his interest in her story heightened.
She dropped her eyes and toyed with a quilt string. “Tony was my first, so I didn’t know what to expect. Obviously I wasn’t his first. After a few months he began to let me know how unsatisfactory I was in bed. He’d tell me I was a cold fish, only good for cooking and cleaning. Then I’d hear how I was too tall, too thin, my breasts were too small, my hair too red, too many freckles, and so on. As his taunts became more frequent, I became more withdrawn, until our bedroom life ceased to exist.” A little hiccough slipped from her.
Hogan held her in his arms again, her head resting on his chest. He cupped the back of her head and forced down the fury rushing through him like an avalanche. He wished he could do some physical harm to the man once they had him in custody. Let him know how much he’d hurt Cassie.
“Shh, honey, you don’t have to go on.”
“I have to. I need to explain.”
Her body shuddered against his.
“He spent more and more time away from home. Then one night a young, pregnant woman appeared at our door. It seems Tony had found someone more suitable to his needs. As I packed up my belongings to leave, he told me I’d never find someone to love me because I was incapable of being loved. I was colder than an Arctic blizzard, and I would die a frigid, lonely woman.”
“Bastard! I’d love to kick his balls off.”
Cassie giggled. “I’d love to watch. Anyway, for a long time I believed him. It took a lot of positive thinking to get myself back on track, but his words cut deep. But after being with you, I know now it was just another lie.” Cassie lay on top of him, and crossed her forearms on his chest. She looked deeply into his eyes.
“The first time we made love, I thought what I’d felt was a fluke. It was magic. Then after the other times, I hoped it wasn’t a fluke. And tonight, I know it wasn’t a fluke. I never, ever had these feelings with Tony. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Hogan thought about the number of times Cassie mentioned people lying to her. He wasn’t any better than them. The least he should do is tell her about his company. But how could he ruin this special moment? His heart beat like a herd of horses against his chest.
“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what your words are doing to me.” He placed her hand against his pounding chest. “Feel that? “ He kissed her forehead.
“You’re right. Tony is a liar and a cheat. His cutting you down is a cover up for his own inadequacies. If he was man enough, he’d have given you what you needed.”
Cassie frowned. “You sound like you know the man.”
Shit. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I know men who are like him. Men who only care about themselves, taking what they want, not worrying who they hurt.” He held his breath, hoping she’d accept his words.
“I don’t think so. If two people are right for each other, then making love will be wonderful, like flying off the earth. What Tony and I had was sex, and not good sex, either.”
Hogan smiled at the description matching his earlier thoughts. “I know what you’re saying.” He brushed her hair from her face. “Making love is giving of your soul and only a special, special person can make a man give his soul.” He gazed at her lovely face for a moment. “Cassie, will you let me give my soul to you?”
Eyes brimming over with tears, Cassie nodded. “Oh, Hogan, I . . .”
“Say it, Cassie. Please say it because I’m not sure how it happened so fast, but I love you, too.”
The crackling of the fire mingled with sighs and words of love as they joined their souls again and again.
Chapter 16
They spent the rest of the weekend walking the beach. Of course it was too cold to make love, but the weather didn’t stop them from trying. Miniature golf, horseback riding, and hiking rounded out their time together.
The ferry ride across the bay to Washington Island was chilly, but with Hogan’s arms around her, Cassie barely noticed. Even though cars were allowed on the island, they opted to rent bicycles. They rode so far even Hogan complained of what he called “bike-butt”, later changing it to “numb nuts.” Cassie promised to make them feel better when they returned to the cabin.
The island messed up her already sad sense of direction. When Hogan asked her which way to go, her confusion had Hogan riding his bike in circles in the middle of the road. Cassie laughed so hard she had trouble getting back on her bike.
The only thing marring their time together was the frequent phone calls Hogan received. Wherever they were, and whatever they were doing, he’d leave her and take the call.
One in particular made her wonder what was going on. She was coming out of the bathroom and overhead his end of the conversation.
“Dammit, I said I was on it . . . No, I haven’t had a chance to yet, but I will . . . Come on, I said I would ask, but the timing hasn’t been right . . . Yes, don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
When he turned and saw her standing in the doorway, his face turned red. “Work,” was all he said.
For some unknown reason, Cassie thought he was talking about her. But why would she be of interest to anyone Hogan knew?
Before she could ask, he grabbed their coats from the hall closet, telling her they were going to search for antiques.
&n
bsp; In town after town, they strolled hand-in-hand through little shops, antique malls, and old-fashioned homes turned antique stores.
“Where did you get your love of antiques?” Hogan asked as they browsed through their first stop.
Cassie picked up a heavy, blue oblong bowl and smiled. “My grandma. In fact, she had a bowl just like this. It was a wedding gift. Unfortunately, I broke it I was eight.”
“What happened?” Hogan replaced a beer stein on a shelf.
“I loved Grandma dearly and always wanted to do things for her. One day, when I was visiting, I decided to make her popcorn.” Cassie put the bowl back. “For some reason I thought I should put the popcorn in a bowl, then in the microwave. Don’t ask me why. Anyway, the bowl was old. While popcorn splattered all over the inside of the microwave, the bowl shattered.”
“What did your grandmother do?”
Cassie grinned. “While I cried, she hugged and thanked me for thinking of her. Since there were so many small pieces of glass, she cleaned up the mess, then taught me how to use her popcorn popper.”
“What did she say about the bowl?”
“I told her I’d buy her a new one, but she said it was just a thing—an old thing at that. The bowl may be gone, but the memory of how it met its demise will forever be imprinted in my brain. That night, after I went to bed, I heard her and Grandpa laughing over the incident.”
“She sounds like quite a woman.”
“She was.”
Hogan followed Cassie down an aisle containing old dishes and boxes of tarnished silverware.
“So how did she teach you about antiques?”
“Her house and attic were filled with them.” Cassie poked through a box of old utensils. “Some were actually her grandmother’s. When my sister and I visited, we’d go upstairs and try on old clothes with her. She’d tell us the most fantastic stories of where they came from and who wore them.”
“So all the antiques in your house were hers?”
“Mostly. I’ve found a few small pieces of my own, but I love the idea of using things my ancestors used. When I inherited her house, her belongings were divided between Bess and I.”
Hogan flipped through an encyclopedia, its mustiness wafting through the air. “Did your ex-husband share your interest?”
Cassie shrugged. “He thought Grandma’s things were useless. I guess he was more into the higher-end antiques. Since I wasn’t, I didn’t pay any attention. He never brought anything home.”
Hogan guided her through the shop’s door. “I’d rather have something useful, not purchased for show. You know, like your secretary.”
“It’s quite old. My great-grandfather built it for his bride as a wedding present.”
“So it wasn’t your ex’s?”
“No. It wasn’t to his taste. Why do you ask?”
Hogan noted her frown. Shit. He needed to back off the questions about Tony for now. “Just wondered.” He needed to change the subject. “Ready to see what the next place holds?”
“Sure.”
To his relief, the next store was only a block away, and she didn’t inquire about his interest in her ex.
Finally, in the late afternoon and many stores later, weary and hungry, they decided to head home. On the way they came across a large dilapidated barn and nearly didn’t stop. Ancient machinery and tools rose through tall, unmowed lawn. A faded sign swinging from a single chain proclaimed it to have the “Best Antiques in Door County.” Hogan had his doubts.
Where most places they’d been through were bright and clean with merchandise attractively displayed, the barn had bare light bulbs hanging from long electrical wires strung haphazardly throughout. Farm tools were tossed among kitchen utensils. Wooden plows leaned against pie safes. Nothing was refinished, everything dusty. Hogan loved it and, by the light in her eyes and smile on her face, so did Cassie.
While he searched through a wooden crate of old farm tools, he noticed Cassie at the back of the barn, staring at a tall headboard leaning against a wall among horse bridles, halters, oxen yokes, and cracked saddles. A smaller footboard was propped against it. When he zigzagged his way to her, a matching roof-like panel sitting next to the headboard came into view. Excitement rushed through him. He itched to run his fingers over the wood to see if it really was mahogany. Piles of wooden kegs filled with chains, nails, and other tools stood between Cassie and the bed.
“Hogan, look at this bed.” Her eyes were wide, a hand pressed over her heart. “I need to see it closer.”
After getting permission from an old man professing to be the owner, Hogan took off his sweater, rolled up his sleeves, and began making a path. Fifteen minutes later, Cassie ran her hands over the wood.
“It’s mahogany,” she whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement. “Can you imagine this in my house? I wonder how much it is?”
The owner looked like he couldn’t tell an antique from a card catalogue. Seeing as he had a barn full of the stuff, Hogan didn’t want him to think they were too anxious and raise the price. In a place like this, maybe he could finagle a bargain for her. Hogan ran his fingers on the underside of the upper part.
“I think these boards are to hang curtains around the sides.” His heart tripped.
“Oh, can you imagine what that would be like?”
Hogan certainly could—the two of them cuddled up under a pile of blankets on a cold winter night, curtains closed like a cocoon, shutting out the world.
“Want me to ask how much it is?” he whispered back.
“No, you goof, I want you to steal the damn thing. Simply slip it onto your back pocket and walk out the door.”
Cassie’s giggles seeped through him as he walked toward the white-haired man.
“How much for the old bed hidden in the corner?”
From the corner of his eye he saw Cassie tug on her bottom lip. The man was quiet while he looked from her to Hogan to the bed and back again, the jingling of the coins in the pockets of his faded, blue-bibbed overalls seemed to tick the seconds away.
Through teeth clenched around the stem of an unlit pipe, he finally answered, “Two thousand.”
Cassie’s heart dropped. Two thousand. No way could she swing that price. Maybe the owner would haggle. She strolled down the path between the wooden barrels toward the man, pretending to be interested in other objects.
“I’ll give you a thousand for it.” Even though it was still more than she could afford, she had to have the bed.
Again the man slowly eyed her. He took the pipe from his mouth and pointed the stem toward the bed. “That there’s real mahogany. Bed’s nearly two hundred years old. Can’t let it go for less’n two thousand.”
“Twelve hundred,” Cassie counter-offered. “It needs refinishing, and I’d have to buy a box spring and mattress.” She knew it was crazy since she didn’t have a job, but, besides Hogan, she’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted a four-poster bed. The earlier fantasies about her and Hogan and a bed like this were still fresh in her mind.
“Sorry, ma’am. My price is firm.” He popped the stem of the pipe back into his mouth. “Two thousand. No less.”
Cassie bit her bottom lip. Damn. There was no way she could afford that much money right now. All she wanted to do now was go back to Hogan’s place. Hogan was silent, too, as they walked to the car.
Cassie mustered up determination not to let the loss of the bed ruin the rest of the trip. Instead she made up stories about how the man acquired his junk. They became more outrageous until, with Hogan joining in, Cassie had convinced herself she didn’t really need the bed after all.
Chapter 17
After returning to Milwaukee on Tuesday, the rest of the week went by in a blur for Cassie. Her emotions were on a roller coaster, one minute flyi
ng high with love for Hogan, the next crashing to the ground with worry about not having a job and a paycheck. Other than calling a couple of times, she hadn’t seen Hogan, either. Three long, torturous days alone.
From the moment she walked in the door, she couldn’t shake the feeling someone had been in her house while she was gone. It was as if the molecules in the air had shifted. Did she smell aftershave? Were Grandma’s old dishes off kilter? Weren’t her bills on the left side of the desk and not the right?
Cassie sighed and, with one last glare at her finances, closed her computer before becoming too depressed with her monetary status. It was surely stupid on her part, but the day after coming home, she called the antique barn and ordered the bed. The money her grandmother left her had been earmarked for emergencies. In Cassie’s mind, getting the bed of her dreams qualified as an emergency. Since he wouldn’t come down on the price, Cassie convinced the shop owner to agree to pay for the shipping. A phone call to Annie had her withdrawing money from her grandmother’s trust fund and putting it into Cassie’s account.
The job openings listed in the newspaper stared at her. Several were possibilities. Monday she’d start applying.
Her phone rang as she stood to figure out what to have for lunch.
“Cassie, where the hell have you been?”
Tony. That’s all she needed right now. “Why the sudden interest in my whereabouts?”
“Don’t get smart with me, Cassie. Just tell me you found my stuff.”
Cassie bit back a retort about where he could stick his papers. “No, I haven’t. And I searched everywhere.”
Silence, then a deep sigh came through the line. “Well, you’d better keep looking.”
“Or what? We aren’t married, haven’t been for quite some time now, so if you lost them, it’s your problem, not mine.” At another bout of silence, an idea formed. “Were you in my house while I was gone?”
