And kissed good.
“He’s a good-looking boy.”
Boy? Not hardly. “Yeah, he is.”
“Do you remember when you had a crush on him and used to follow him down to the water while he was swimming and just stand there waiting for him to notice you?”
“I didn’t wait for him to notice me.” With luck, her mother wouldn’t notice she hadn’t denied the crush part. “I was putting my feet in the water to stay cool.” If only she’d stuck her foot in the water instead of her mouth that night at his place.
“Whatever you say, dear. I tried to call you last night, but you weren’t in.”
“Yeah. The paint fumes in here were bad, so I opened the windows and left.”
“Did you go over to see Kyle?”
“Why would you jump to that conclusion, Mom?”
“I don’t know.” There was a shrug in her voice. “Because he’s there, he’s handy and you’re friends.”
Not anymore. But her mother didn’t have to know about that. A little white lie was in order. Actually it wasn’t a lie. She’d seen Kyle, just not the night before.
“I brought over steaks and salad for dinner.” And got thrown out before eating anything. Hanging out with Kyle was exciting. She just didn’t get to do it for very long.
“That’s nice, dear. So the two of you are having a good time.”
If a mind-blowing make-out session defined good time, Cassie was having a blast. It was the part after the mind-blowing make-out session that confused the heck out of her. Oh, that was too generous. She’d been confused before she’d practically forced him to kiss her. But his reaction after that kiss had really messed up her mind. And continued to do so.
“Are you there, Cassie?”
“Yeah, Mom. Still waking up.”
“There’s a new coffeemaker still in its box in the pantry. But I’d rather you use the old one until the painting is finished. How’s that going, by the way?”
“Good.” It had given her a golden opportunity to look her worst when she’d seen Kyle again. “I have another couple days of work left. And the trim.”
“Don’t tire yourself out, dear.”
“I won’t. I’m taking it slow.” There was an understatement.
“The other reason I called was to let you know the new furniture should be available for delivery in a week to ten days. Do you think you’ll be finished by then?”
“Probably.”
“I could send your brother up to help.”
“Not on my account, although I’d love to see him. I’m sure Kyle would, too.” Then the two of them could go trolling for women together. The thought made her profoundly sad and she had no idea why.
“Dan’s pretty busy. His firm just snagged a very big client.”
“That’s great, Mom. Don’t bother him, then. I’ll get the painting done.”
“Let me know if you fall behind.”
“I will. Have you made arrangements to get rid of the old furniture?”
“No. I thought you could take care of that while you’re there.”
“Sure, Mom. Piece of cake.” It would be a good distraction. Help her ignore the guy next door, who was so worried about her he didn’t want anything to do with her.
Her mother made a noise on the other end of the line. “I just had a great idea.”
“Yeah?”
“Kyle can help you dispose of the furniture.”
“Oh, I don’t want to bother him. I can handle it.”
“Don’t be shy, Cassandra. I’m sure he would be happy to help. Use him.”
Cassie couldn’t tell her mother she’d already tried that and she hadn’t seen him since. “I’ll see what I can do, Mom. But he might have other plans.”
“According to his mother, he’s just going to brood. You can’t let him do that, dear.”
Wanna bet? She didn’t need to get her teeth kicked in—how many times was it now? She shook her head, deciding she didn’t have the energy to count her disappointments.
“I don’t want to bother him. He’s got better things to do than help me.” So many women, so much seduction, so little time.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t be bothering him, dear. His mother said she’s worried about him. I have a feeling he would welcome the distraction. If you’d like, I could call and ask for you—”
“No!”
“Cassie? Are you sure you’re all right? I’m getting worried. Maybe I should call Kyle after all. Get him to pop in and have a look at you. Maybe those paint fumes are getting to you.”
Cassie took several deep, calming breaths in order to decelerate her heart rate and bring her voice several octaves down to her normal range. “That’s okay, Mom. I’ll talk to him.”
“Good. Let me know what happens. With the furniture, I mean.”
“Right.” What else would it be? Certainly nothing was going to happen with Kyle. “Love you, Mom. Bye.”
Cassie hung up the phone and sighed. Who knew the road to hell wasn’t paved with good intentions after all? It was littered with regrets.
Cassie shook her head to clear it. A pity party was no way to start out the day. She had a lot of work to do if she was going to get the painting done in time for the new furniture to be delivered.
Her bedroom was one of the Jack-and-Jill rooms with a bathroom in between. She slid out of bed and padded in to brush her teeth, then pulled her straight hair into a ponytail. After tugging on old, bleached-out cutoff sweats and a baggy T-shirt, she went downstairs.
The day before, she’d painted what she could without moving furniture out of the way. Now it was crunch time. She relocated the easy stuff first—dining room chairs, wall hangings, and emptied the dishes in the breakfront, putting them in the kitchen. The couch was an old sleeper sofa and she knew that sucker was going to be heavy. But if she could slide it away from the wall just enough…
She grabbed the arm and tried to shift it, but her fingers slipped and the momentum sent her backward, her elbow connecting with the lamp on the table behind her. It crashed to the floor and the ceramic base shattered on the unforgiving tile.
“First casualty,” she muttered, feeling stupid. At least it was already slated for retirement. She started through the clutter of end tables and odds and ends in the center of the room to get the broom and dustpan. “Maybe one bad deed will cancel out the two good ones and reverse my punishment.”
Kyle. Nothing could reverse that. Sighing, she shook her head.
Before she could get through the mess to the kitchen pantry, there was a knock on the door. Who could it be? She’d wished for reinforcements, but even her mother couldn’t have gotten Dan there that fast.
She headed in the other direction and opened the door. It wasn’t reinforcements and it wasn’t Dan.
It was Kyle.
Chapter Four
“What are you doing here?”
Kyle inspected Cassie from head to toe. He’d heard the crash and feared—He didn’t know what he feared, but seeing she was all right went a long way toward bringing his adrenaline level back to normal.
“I just got back from a run.”
“Yeah. I figured that out.” Her gaze skimmed over his damp hair, his face and settled just a little too long on his mouth before self-consciously skittering away. “Although this is a surprise.”
“What?”
“I didn’t expect to see you.” She shrugged, drawing his attention to the oversize shirt she wore.
He knew from firsthand exploration what was under that shirt. He remembered the shape and texture of her bare shoulder, skin as smooth as silk, the flat expanse of her midriff leading to the tantalizing swell of her breast, which had nearly been his undoing that night. Was it only six days ago? It seemed longer.
After she’d left, he’d noticed her full wineglass, the lipstick mark that had been a perfect outline of her mouth. After downing the contents in one gulp, he’d brushed his thumb over that mark, yearning to kiss her again. Vis
ions of her had tormented him most of the night. Now it took all his willpower not to grab the hem of that big shirt and skim it up, over and off her. Mostly he wanted to talk to her, see her smile and feel himself smile right back.
He was an idiot for being here. But he’d wondered about her. The last time he’d seen her, she’d looked as if she might shatter into a thousand pieces. If not for the noise he’d just heard and the growing need to know she was in one piece, he wouldn’t have knocked on her door.
He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I heard something break. Something big. My ears are still ringing. I thought you might be—” He rested his hand on the door frame as he looked down at her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Thanks for stopping by,” she said, starting to close the door.
He easily blocked it with his palm. “Aren’t you going to tell me what happened?”
“I didn’t want to overstep the boundaries of friendship.” She leaned her hip against the edge of the door. “After all, I just found out it’s not okay for friends to hang out together. Who knew?”
She didn’t understand he’d done it for her own good. He wasn’t the kind of man she deserved. If their attraction got out of hand and climbed to the next level, the clock would start ticking and it was only a matter of time until everything blew up. Having her in his life and not being able to touch her was better than not seeing her at all. As he’d told her, he was a selfish bastard who was obviously into self-torment. Who knew?
“Are you going to tell me what happened or continue to act like a pouting child?”
She scrunched her face up as if she was thinking real hard about it, then she met his gaze. “I think I’ll keep pouting.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, we share a common wall.”
Irrelevant for this discussion, but a fact that never left his mind. She was only a few steps away, separated from him by plaster and wallboard that, more than once, he’d felt like putting his fist through. Even if he managed to doze and forget for a few brief moments, his body remembered.
“Look, Cass, I just want to make sure nothing’s going to explode or catch fire.” Besides me, he thought, looking at her mouth. He glanced away quickly. “I have a vested interest in this duplex. If you go down I go down. Let me make sure everything’s okay. Friend to friend.”
“Oh.” She nodded, but the exaggerated movement did not signal acquiescence. “Thanks for clearing that up.”
They stared at each other for several moments.
“Cassie.” He gritted his teeth.
“Yes?” she asked sweetly.
“Are you going to let me in or not?”
“I wasn’t planning on it, no.”
“I could muscle my way past you.”
“Why is it so important to you?” She glanced behind her. “Obviously there’s no smoke or fire. Nothing’s going to blow up. The duplex is safe for Mom, apple pie and—”
“The girl I left behind?”
She looked down. “You said it. Not me.”
She was right. He’d said it because it was the truth. He had left her behind. Because it was the right thing to do, the best thing for her. She was also right that the building wasn’t in imminent danger. But he was. He needed a reason to see her. If it hadn’t been this, he would have invented another excuse, something as lame as borrowing a cup of sugar. Just to see her, talk to her. Because he’d missed her. Because she was there. If she hadn’t been—
Suddenly a thought popped into his mind. She wasn’t going to be at the duplex forever and neither was he. Just another week. They both had jobs to go to. The end was in sight. What could it hurt? Not a thing he could see, as long as he kept it strictly friendship. He could do that. Once before, he’d walked away from her. He could do it again.
That decided, his spirits lifted. Anticipation washed through him. But he wasn’t home free yet. She hadn’t agreed to stop pouting. Judging by the look on her face, there was groveling in his immediate future. For the life of him he couldn’t seem to care.
“I’ll give you ten seconds to change your mind,” he said.
“Or what?” A spark of something lit her blue eyes.
“Or I’ll huff and puff and blow your house down.”
She put her hand on her hip. “Well, that’s certainly getting into character. I should have known. The big bad wolf.” But the shadows lingering in her eyes said, with everyone but me.
He was sorry about that, more than she would ever know. And he was weak. He couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of her company. But that didn’t mean he had to make it physical.
“I used to play football in high school,” he warned. “I know how to take you down.”
“Okay. Give it your best shot. We can do that cartoon thing where you get a running start then just at the right moment I open the door and you tumble into the chaos and wind up with paint all over your face.”
“Or egg,” he said with a sigh. “Look, Cass. I don’t know what got into me the other night. I’m sorry. I want to hang out with you.”
“Really?”
One corner of her mouth curved up, but he wasn’t there yet. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“Nope.”
“That whole demonstration thing got out of hand. At the risk of stooping to the level of my inner child, you started it. I warned you. But let’s forget it ever happened.” Yeah, that was going to happen. “I want to be with you, friends just hanging out. Like old times. When we were kids. How do you feel about it?”
“You’re not going to bury me in the sand, are you?”
He grinned and held up his hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“Then okay.”
“But we have to set up some ground rules first.”
“Such as?” she asked.
“No hanky-panky.”
She stared at him for several moments, then burst out laughing. “I can’t help feeling this is some kind of role reversal. Are you afraid of little ol’ me?”
Yes, he wanted to say. Terrified. “Of course not.” He let out a long breath. “But you’ve got to admit when things get to the hanky-panky level, it gets all weird and complex. Being friends with you is simple and uncomplicated. And fun. I’d like to keep it that way. What do you say?”
She opened the door wide. “I say come on in.”
“Wow.” He walked past her.
“Wow what?” She closed the door. “You’re a lawyer. I’m agreeing with Beth Deveraux that you’re the best. You made an excellent case. I’ll make adequate coffee.”
She wove her way through the obstacle course that was her downstairs. This unit had an identical layout to his but was the mirror image. Everything reversed albeit in chaos. Chairs were clustered in the center of the room, plastic drop cloths scattered around, cans of paint huddled together on newspapers. Rollers, pans and paintbrushes. Oh my.
He squatted down and inspected the shattered lamp on the floor beside the sleeper sofa. “Fit of temper?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder as she filled the glass coffeepot with water from the tap. “What?”
He walked to the bar, careful to keep it between them. The last time he’d seen her, she’d looked dynamite in her jeans and one-shouldered black top. But in her sweat shorts and oversize shirt, she was somehow even more appealing. And tempting.
She poured the water into the coffeemaker then measured ground beans into the filter. After flipping the switch, it took several moments for the dripping and sizzling to commence.
“Now, what did you say?”
He angled his head toward the shards of ceramic that had once upon a time been a lamp. “How did the lamp break?”
“I was trying to move the couch away from the wall so I could paint behind it. My hand slipped and I elbowed that sucker into oblivion.”
“You should have asked me for help.”
“Why? Breaking it was as easy as falling off a log.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t m
ean that. You should have asked me to move the couch for you.”
One delicate eyebrow rose. “Counselor, given my state of mind up until a few moments ago, do you really want to go there again?”
He laughed. “Do I have stupid tattooed on my forehead?”
“Let me see.” She circled the bar, reached up and cupped his face in her hands, pulling him closer, as if for an inspection. As if for a kiss.
He backed away. “Very funny, Brightwell. Where’s your broom? I’ll clean up the glass.”
“It’s in the pantry.”
She rested her hands on her hips, giving him a hint of the curves beneath the soft cotton of her shirt. The look on her face was cocky and challenging and cute. His undoing. As soon as she’d opened the door and he’d taken one look at her face, he knew he couldn’t share a wall and not share her—unless he kept reminding himself they were just friends. If he could do that, everything would be fine.
“I just had a thought,” she said.
“Uh-oh. There’s a dangerous prospect. And rare,” he added, grateful to be able to slip back into teasing friendship. Anything to ease the yearning ache inside him.
He walked past her and retrieved the broom, then turned back to what had once been the lamp. She continued talking as he swept.
“I’m going to ignore the dig and go to where you said you’re here to evaluate your life. Is that correct?” she asked.
“It is.”
“Don’t you think you could do it better with a paintbrush in your hand?”
He couldn’t help smiling at her cross-examination. “I don’t know. My life is rules and words and books. If I need something painted, I hire a painting professional.”
She snorted. “That takes all the fun out of it. If more people painted, family counselors and mental health workers would go out of business.”
“Not to mention painters.”
Ignoring him, she went on. “What you need to fill up your emotional well and help with your thought process is good old-fashioned manual labor.”
“Maybe I don’t really want to think about anything,” he suggested.
“It’s good for that, too. Turns your mind off.”
The Summer House Page 14
