Reilly's Promise

by Christyne Butler

  “I’ve told you how much posturing and role-playing goes on at these things.” Moving away from the counter, Cassandra pushed a loose strand of curls off her face. “If I didn’t have to be there in order to keep up appearances because of the shop, I’d be on the couch watching an old black-and-white movie. Besides, can you imagine someone like Reilly at one of Elizabeth’s parties?”

  “Yeah, I can.” Lily followed. “That man has enough confidence to be at ease anywhere. You better start imagining him there too because he isn’t going to let you out of his sight. And that’s bothering you a whole lot more than you’re letting on.”

  No way was she going to admit Lily was dead on in her assessment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cassandra slipped into the delicate upholstered chair behind her desk.

  Purposely avoiding her assistant’s gaze, she reached for the mail. Her eyes landed on the envelope from the auction house. She ripped it open, scanned the letter and heaved a sigh of relief. “They’ve accepted the genuineness of the necklace. Thank goodness!”

  “Hmmm, nice redirect, girlfriend.” Lily leaned over and pressed the letter down to the leather desk pad. “So, what does he look like naked?”

  Cassandra’s mouth popped open. “What are you— I have no idea!”

  “Okay, half naked? Don’t tell me he sleeps in buttoned down pajamas.” Lily grinned. “I won’t buy it.”

  Her cheeks grew hot, and Cassandra knew they were turning the same pink color Elizabeth Bancroft’s had earlier. She focused her attention back on the letter, but the words blurred as the memory of her roommate’s bedtime attire flashed before her eyes. “If you must know, he wears sweatpants.”

  “Oh, I bet he’s got a six-pack for a stomach. Do they ride low on his hips? So you can see his belly button and a thin hairline leading to—”

  Cassandra sprang from the desk. “Lily!”

  “Oh, come on.” Lily tailed after her to the main display in the store, an eighteenth-century mahogany bedroom suite. “If you can’t dish the dirt with your friends, who can you dish with?”

  Cassandra rearranged the sterling silver vanity set on the dresser and moved onto the antique linens. “There’s nothing to dish. There’s nothing going on between Reilly and me.”

  “I didn’t say there was, but now that you brought it up, why not?” Lily moved in behind her. “You have to put up with him, might as well have a bit of fun in the meantime.”

  “There are so many reasons why the idea is crazy, I’m not going to list them.”

  “Okay, I will.” Lily ticked off her reasons. “You come from two different worlds, he’s not in town for long, only sticking around to figure out who’s after you before he jumps on his horse, grabs his white hat and rides into the sunset—”

  “Please, stop.” Cassandra whirled around and grabbed Lily’s hands. “You’re driving me crazy. A white hat?”

  Lily smirked. “The good guys always wear the white hats. And Reilly is one of the good guys. From the look on your face you think so too. Am I hitting a little too close to home?”

  One of the good guys?

  Yes, Cassandra would concede Reilly was that. But she didn’t want to think about the fact he was the first honest man in her life in a long time. The first man who meant every word that came out of his mouth. A man who didn’t make false promises and then lie to keep them.

  But none of that mattered. He was only a part of her life because of a job. A paycheck and nothing more. “The subject is closed, Lily.” Giving her friend’s hands a quick squeeze before releasing them, Cassandra started past her. “I think I’m going to wear the necklace tonight.”

  “Now that the auction house has accepted it, when do you need to get it over there?”

  “Not until they call me. It’s too late to have the picture put in the catalogue, but it can still go on their website. There’ll be a lot of potential bidders at the Bancrofts’ tonight and I can give them an up close and personal look at the piece. What do you think? Would it be in poor taste?”

  A low voice murmured. “You? Do something in poor taste?”

  Reilly’s mocking words stopped Cassandra cold and her heart slammed into her chest. She turned to find him leaning against the oversized wardrobe at the edge of the display. How long had he been standing there and how had he managed to get back inside without her hearing him?

  Thanks to the sudden ringing of the phone, she didn’t have a chance to find out.

  Cassandra disappeared into the bathroom the moment they got back to the loft. Reilly soon heard water running and when she emerged twenty minutes later, wrapped in her now familiar silk robe, she didn’t say a word. She just vanished into her room with the jeweler’s box in hand.

  Reilly grabbed the black plastic bag delivered less than ten minutes earlier and went into the bathroom. Moist air and Cassandra’s signature scent clung to his skin as he stripped. He stepped into the glass-enclosed, still-wet shower stall, which only heightened his awareness that Cassandra had stood in this very spot moments ago.

  Naked.

  He easily pictured hot, soapy water gliding over her breasts, her stomach and those long legs of hers as she stood beneath a stinging spray of water. His body instantly responded and he pushed the image out of his head. He showered quickly, then dried off and got dressed. The pressure behind the zipper of his dress pants didn’t ease at all. He wiped a space free of fog and focused on the tie in his hands in the mirror’s reflection. Attempting to maneuver the narrow piece of silk material around his neck into a perfect bow tie, he tried again to ignore the heady scent that still filled her bathroom.

  It was impossible. It was everywhere.

  He’d discovered the source of the arresting fragrance always swirling around Cassandra the first morning he’d showered here. A row of bottles on a built-in shelf sported the same bright orange color, and he couldn’t resist turning one of them around to read the label.

  Tropical Passionflower.

  Cold showers had been the mainstay ever since.

  “Down, boy.” Reilly’s fumbling ended with a lopsided result. “Remember, this lady thinks you’re out of her league.”

  Yanking on the edge of the tie, he released the knot and let it hang loose around his neck. A pang of disappointment filled him as he remembered what Cassandra said earlier today in her shop. He’d thought she was more down-to-earth than most society women. To discover he was wrong made him second-guess his gut instincts. Something he hadn’t done in a long time.

  Bottom line? She was embarrassed to be with him tonight. Of course, how could she know he’d grown up in a house three times the size of her mother’s? Or that he’d attended enough fancy balls and parties in his youth to last a lifetime?

  “Forget the past,” Reilly said to his reflection as he started working again on the tie. “You decided a long time ago to be just what she thinks you are, what you are now. A cowboy with dirt on his boots who will get in the way of her rich and famous lifestyle. A cowboy who isn’t leaving until he figures out what the hell is going on.”

  Satisfied with the now straight tie, Reilly grabbed the jacket off the hanger. He seized his duffle and walked out of the bathroom. Shrugging the black double-breasted coat over his starched white shirt, he tugged on the sleeves and reached for the cufflinks on the coffee table.

  Damn, it’d been a long time since he’d worn a monkey suit like this. In the past, he’d always worn the Marine Corps dress blue uniform for formal occasions. He owned a set of mess dress, complete with wide red cummerbund, gold braid, and rows of miniature medals. An invitation to the White House had required the uniform, thanks to the Marines deeming he had earned a prize after some time spent in the Middle East. If it wasn’t for the fact Digger was the one who had actually pinned the heart-shaped purple medal on his chest, Reilly wouldn’t have gone at all.

  “Do you need help with those?”

  Startled, he turned at the sound of Cassandra’s voice. Lost in the past,
he had no idea how long she’d been standing there.

  She walked toward him—no, more like floated across the polished wood floor. The sheer white material of her formal evening dress flowed from her waist to the floor like a waterfall, then churned and rolled, mimicking white caps on the ocean, around her feet. Two thin straps of the same see-through material draped over her shoulders, and a crisscrossed section of glittering diamonds covered her from breasts to waist.

  “I’m a whiz at cufflinks. I used to help my dad all the time,” she offered with a perfect arched brow. In surprise at his appearance?

  She took the cufflinks and bent her head to concentrate on getting them attached. Still unable to speak, Reilly let his gaze drift over her hair, piled high on her head, just like the first time he’d seen her. The style left her neck bare except for the stunning necklace.

  The necklace.

  Reilly pushed back a flashpoint of anger. He should’ve known about that damn thing from the beginning. The idea of her wearing it tonight didn’t sit well with him. It didn’t do any good to relay that thought to Cassandra, though. He knew he had as much a chance of getting her to leave it in the shop’s safe as he had of kissing her.

  Whoa, where’d that come from?

  Forcing his eyes away from her cleavage and the thought he’d managed to avoid for a week, he concentrated instead on her hands. Her fingers shook slightly as she threaded the silver metal clip of the cufflink. “What’s the matter?” he asked, seizing her hands in his.

  Her head snapped up. “Nothing, why?”

  Pressing her fingers, he became aware of how cold they were. “You’re shaking, and your hands are cold.”

  She pulled from his touch, and he let her go. “My hands are always cold. Thin blood, I guess.”

  “What’s wrong, Cassandra? You look scared.”

  “Scared?”

  Now he heard it in her voice. What was going on? “Okay, nervous.”

  She backed away, one hand instantly going to her throat. Her fingers danced near the ornately carved necklace before she turned away from him.

  “Is it the necklace?”

  He knew it wasn’t, but he wanted to see how she’d react. Hell, she’d defended her right to do what she pleased with the antique jewelry with such fire this afternoon, he’d found himself turned on. A condition fast becoming SOP—standard operating procedure—around this woman.

  Cassandra turned back, the shaky smile on her face forced and unnatural. “Yes, the necklace. I’ve never worn something this valuable before.”

  She was lying. He didn’t know why, but he was willing to let it go for now. “I find that hard to believe. You Van Winter women must be swimming in jewels. Maybe because you aren’t planning on keeping this one.”

  “Yes, maybe that’s it.”

  “I’m guessing your mother isn’t interested in it, either?”

  Cassandra cleared her throat. “No. We discussed it when you dropped me off to pick up my dress. She’s fine with me entering it in the auction. That’s why I decided to wear it tonight. Many of the people at Elizabeth’s party will also be attending the auction. Do you think that’s too tawdry?”

  “Tawdry?”

  The concern in her eyes had him wondering if she really was worried about being respectable. Showing up with him was going to set tongues wagging, no matter how good a job he'd done today at charming the grande dame who had turned out to be Willard’s mother.

  Too bad. He had a job to do and there was no way he was sitting home while she went out hobnobbing tonight.

  He crossed the room, covering the distance separating them until she backed into one of the sofas, unable to move away. “As in poor taste?”

  Cassandra’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t heard what she and Lily had been talking about this afternoon while he placed a call to keep Digger up to date, but he had a feeling he’d been the topic of conversation.

  “On the way home you told me you’d just come back inside the shop——”

  “And I had,” Reilly interrupted, his anger vanishing in the swirl of that damned sultry scent of hers. He drew in a deep breath and forced his attention on something he still knew nothing about, the necklace. “So, what are these rocks?”

  A small smile played across Cassandra’s shiny lips and his hard-on was back.

  Damn. It didn’t take much. Not with this woman.

  And that bothered him. Not because he couldn’t afford to be distracted, that was a given, but because he couldn’t afford her. Period.

  “The stones are called Alexandrites.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything to me, Cassandra.”

  Now he was lying. He hid his surprise at the name of the precious stones. He had heard of them, but didn’t know any details. He trailed a finger along her collarbone and tried to will away his body’s response to her. He heard a catch in her breathing before it came out in a release of warmth against his skin.

  So much for willpower.

  “Alexandrites were first discovered in 1830 in Russia on the day the future Czar Alexander turned eleven. The stone was named after him.”

  “Interesting.”

  Would her voice hitch in that same breathless way when she made love? Reilly forced himself to concentrate on the necklace and not the wild random thought lodged in his brain. His finger traced the outline of the dangling stones against her skin. “Tell me more.”

  “More?”

  “Sure, like what metal is this? It looks so…”

  “Delicate?” Cassandra offered as Reilly’s voice trailed off into silence. “It’s very deceiving, I know. It’s platinum. Jewelry designers used a technique where the sharp edge of the metal is facing upward giving the appearance of a fine mesh or handmade lace.”

  Dipping his head, Reilly leaned closer. He turned his hand, his knuckles brushing against the smoothness of her bare skin. Heat radiated from her. He shoved his other hand deep in his pants pocket in an attempt not to reach for her. “Is this the stone’s natural color?”

  “Actually, the stones change from a greenish blue color in natural daylight to the shades of red and purple you see now, under incandescent light, such as candlelight.”

  He couldn’t stop himself. He thought he could, but his gaze moved upward from her neck of its own accord. He paused for a moment on the shininess of her lips, then captured her eyes with his own. “Your friend Sebastian told me the same thing this afternoon. I paid him a visit while you were with your mother. He’s an interesting old man—”

  “You didn’t scare him, did you?”

  There was that fire again, flashing in her eyes, causing the green to deepen to a dark jade. He couldn’t decide which shade he liked best. “Calm down, princess. I only talked to him.”

  “And I just confirmed your conversation. Now, would you please stop calling me princess?”

  “Why? You certainly could give Cinderella a run for her money in this dress. All you need now is a Prince Charming to complete the picture.”

  “Is that an offer?”

  “Me? I’m about as far from a prince as you can get,” Reilly shot back. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

  “About this afternoon. I didn’t mean for it to come out like it did.” Cassandra’s tongue stole across her lips. “I know these parties. I grew up attending them and I don’t even want to go to this circus. I can’t see why you’d want—”

  “This is what I want.”

  Reilly’s words disappeared when he covered her mouth with his. A powerful jolt raced through him when his tongue traced along her suddenly closed lips. He could taste the heat, the promise of what lay behind them, and he wanted it.

  He wanted it desperately.

  Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he placed his thumb along her jawline and gently forced her head back. He nipped at the edge of her bottom lip and her mouth opened, the warmth inside rushing over his lips. His tongue hurried to seek entrance.

  This was inevitable
. He’d known it from the moment he saw her. Known it from when he’d held her in his arms the night of the break-in, and she’d purposely tried to put distance between them. And she’d been correct to do so.

  This was wrong. But it felt so right.

  The sharp ring of the telephone filled the air.

  Cassandra pulled away, ending the kiss. She didn’t look at him, but flew across the room and grabbed at the receiver. “Hel—hello? Yes, it’s me. What? Oh, running for the phone left me a little breathless.”

  Liar.

  The rapid rise and fall of Cassandra’s shoulders told him as much as she turned away. The wide expanse of bare skin she displayed thanks to the low waist of her dress caused him to bite back another groan.

  “From across the room,” Cassandra continued. “Did you want something, Willard? Oh, I guess we could—we as in me and Reilly.” She paused. “Yes, he’s coming with me.”

  He covered the space between them and took the telephone out of her hand. “Hey Will, this is Reilly. Look, we don’t—yeah, I know you prefer to be called Willard.” His voice was curt, but he didn’t care. “As Miss Van Winter’s escort this evening, I’ll make sure she gets to the party. Yeah, I look forward to seeing you too.”

  Pressing the button ending the conversation, Reilly handed the phone back to Cassandra. Her fingers were shaking again. Closing his own into a tight fist to keep from reaching for her again, he wondered if the kiss disturbed her as much as it did him.

  And he was disturbed. He needed something to take the edge off the powerful rush of emotions that kiss had created in him.

  “You were unnecessarily rude.” Cassandra put the phone on the counter. “Willard was only trying—”

  “I don’t need handouts from your rich friends.”

  Cassandra lips pressed into a hard line. Oh, that’s good. Pick a fight with her, no edge there. Only it didn’t work. He still found himself fighting back the desire to trace that line with his tongue again just to see if he could get it to soften.

  She turned and walked to one of the sofas where a matching silk shawl lay. She draped it around her shoulders. “Shall we go?”