Reilly's Promise

by Christyne Butler

  Running his tongue over his lips, Reilly could still taste her. Damn, he really needed a drink. He hadn’t thought about booze in over a week. He glanced at his watch. Yep, it was time to go. “Whatever you say, princess.”

  A flash of anger sparkled in her eyes. “So, where did you get your tuxedo?” she asked.

  He ignored her question. “So, do those rocks really change colors?”

  “Yes, they do.” Cassandra moved past him, opened the door and stepped into the hall. “In fact, legend says they bring good fortune when the sun is shining and inspire pleasure at night.”

  Now there was an idea he wouldn’t have any problem getting behind this evening. “Consider me inspired.”

  Chapter Six

  That man was chock full of surprises.

  Reaching for another glass of champagne, Cassandra looked across the large formal ballroom where Reilly stood with his back to the huge fireplace, a circle of women clustered around him. Moments later, they broke out in gales of laughter. He smiled in response, cradling a glass in the palm of his hand.

  First, his tux. All the James Bonds put together, even Daniel Craig, her personal favorite, faded in comparison to what Reilly Murdock did to a double-breasted black tuxedo. She had no idea where it came from—surely not his duffle bag. Then he’d surprised her again with a limo waiting outside her apartment building.

  Before the thought of how much this was costing entered her head, he’d quickly assured her it was on his dime. They’d arrived to a barrage of flashing light bulbs, and he’d tried to quietly and quickly lead her inside. But with a squeeze of her hand, he’d allowed a few pictures while she politely refused any questions.

  Once inside the Bancroft mansion, Willard’s mother commandeered him, leaving Cassandra still reeling from their star-studded arrival and his kiss back in her apartment. Although she told herself she was thrilled with the space between her and her bodyguard, it didn’t stop her from noticing he never let her out of his sight.

  “Admit it, girl, you can’t keep your eyes off him either,” Cassandra whispered, raising the glass to her lips.

  She forced herself to look away from Reilly, focusing instead on the bubbles dancing in the fluted goblet. Mesmerized by the golden froth, she thought back to a few hours ago.

  She’d stepped out of her bedroom to find six plus feet of gorgeous male in the middle of her apartment. Seeing Reilly dressed from head to toe in formal attire had taken her breath away. Or could she blame that on the mysterious phone call she’d gotten while dressing?

  She looked around the room, passing over the ladies to linger on the men. The caller had been a man. A man with a deep, obscure voice who’d spoken only three words. Three sinister words that scared the hell out of her.

  Don’t go tonight.

  After enjoying a week of peace with no accidents or strange occurrences, she’d reset the ringer on her phone, certain Reilly was close to agreeing with her that her mother had made the wrong choice in hiring him.

  Now, she wasn’t so sure.

  Cassandra knew she should’ve told Reilly about the phone call. She’d planned to, but when she’d seen him having a tough time with his cufflinks, the offer to help had come out of her mouth before she could stop it. She’d hoped it would break the silence that had overtaken them since they left the shop. But he’d picked up right away something was bothering her. When he mentioned the necklace, she’d jumped at the reason.

  Then he’d kissed her.

  A rush of heat filled her. She took another sip of the cool liquid as her gaze drifted back to Reilly. He certainly knew what he was doing when it came to kissing.

  Following her after she moved away. Touching her. Asking her questions about the stones. Before she knew it, her chin had lifted of its own accord and his breath was against her lips. The mint of his toothpaste mixed with a heady dose of that same warm, sunshiny, outdoor scent that was his alone.

  Then his mouth had covered hers with a gentleness she’d never felt before. He’d pulled back for barely a second, and she’d slammed her mouth shut. He’d then teased the edge of her lips with his tongue until the need to taste him caused them to part. She’d wanted his kiss, wanted to taste him, wanted to rip the phone out of the wall when it interrupted them and she’d had to pull away to answer it.

  Could he tell it had been months since she’d kissed a man? A sloppy attempt by her New Year’s Eve date was the last time she’d allowed someone to get close. Why now? Why this man? And why was she thinking about confessing everything to him when she had no idea how she was going to pay his wages? Would he leave if he knew the truth?

  She bit at her lower lip and then soothed the sting with a quick swipe of her tongue. She could still taste Reilly and her lips curved into a smile.

  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

  Cassandra looked up and her smile vanished. She hadn’t run into Willard yet tonight, in fact they hadn’t seen each other since the night of the break-in. She knew he’d been surprised on the phone when she’d said Reilly was coming with her and she didn’t relish getting another warning from him.

  “Enough what?

  “That’s your third glass since you arrived.”

  “Thanks for keeping count.” Willard was right, but she'd spent most of the night talking with the other guests or watching Reilly, often replacing glasses of warm liquid with new ones. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “And that’s two more than you usually drink.” Willard pulled the glass from her hand and placed it on a silver tray held by a passing waiter. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Hey—”

  “And that necklace.” Willard took a step closer, his voice a rough whisper. “Whatever made you decide to wear it tonight?”

  The overpowering scent of expensive cologne assaulted her, but it couldn’t mask the strong odor of alcohol that clung to Willard’s tuxedo. And he was accusing her of drinking too much? “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the necklace sooner.” Cassandra focused on his bloodshot eyes and when he started to sway toward her, she took a step backward. “I wanted to keep things quiet until I knew I could get it in the auction.”

  A look of astonishment came over Willard’s face. “You’ve told people you’re selling it?”

  “Well, I thought having a price tag hanging off it wouldn’t be too stylish. I didn’t want people to get confused as to what exactly is for sale.”

  “Cassandra, don’t be crass.”

  “Crass? This necklace is the windfall I’ve been waiting for.” She lowered her voice. “No more lies, no more pretending the Van Winter family fortune is still intact. The sale of this piece will put enough money into the bank to secure my mother’s future. What’s crass about that?”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’ve been on your side from the beginning, handling the liquidation of your assets and working overtime to keep it all hush-hush.”

  “I know that, and I appreciate your help—”

  Willard grabbed her forearm. “I’m sure the sale is going to go well and you’ll have a nice nest egg. But to wear it here like some walking mannequin—”

  “Let go of me,” Cassandra tried to pull away. He tightened his grip. “Willard, what’s the matter with you?”

  “I don’t want to fight with you about this, Cassandra.” He loosened his hold on her arm long enough to slide his fingers to her wrist. “How about we dance instead?”

  “What’s this? Sweethearts fighting?”

  Cassandra’s stomach turned over when she recognized the voice of Willard’s father. She used the interruption to tactfully wrench herself free. “Hello, Edwin.” She knew her smile was forced, but it was the best she could offer. She gripped her clutch purse and took a discreet step away from both men. “Willard and I aren’t fighting. And we aren’t sweethearts.”

  Edwin only nodded and took a sip of his drink. “I understand your mother isn’t here. At first, I thought she mi
ght be at the Palm Beach house, but I’ve learned you’ve sold the place.”

  Cassandra’s gaze flew to Willard’s. She hoped she was better at masking her feelings than her friend with his wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look. “Ah, yes, just this past spring. Mother decided the house held too many memories.”

  “And the summer place in the Hamptons? It also was filled with too many memories?”

  “Yes.” Cassandra had no idea where Edwin was heading with his questions, but she wasn’t about to give into his inquiries.

  “But to sell to strangers?” He pushed. “Why didn’t you let us know? I certainly would’ve been interested—”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but they’re playing our song.”

  Cassandra whirled around. A wave of relief washed over her when she saw Reilly standing behind her. My savior, she thought. Or was he? How much of their conversation had he overheard? “What are you doing here?”

  “Getting the dance you promised me, babe.” Reilly took her hands in his. “Remember, you said I could have anything I wanted if I’d help you with your stuck zipper? Excuse us, gentlemen.”

  Cassandra accepted the pull of Reilly’s hand. They walked toward the crowded dance floor. Should she be doing this? As grateful as she was to be away from Willard and his father, she was concerned about Willard’s drinking. Would he blurt out her secret?

  Maybe he already had. No, that’s not possible. Why would Edwin be asking about the homes she and her mother had been forced to sell if he already knew everything?

  Reilly guided her to step in front of him, his touch, hot against her bare skin, driving any logical thought from her head. With the least hint of pressure, he neatly turned and pulled her close as strains of a big band classic drifted from the bandstand. She placed one hand on his shoulder, her handbag resting there as she tried to resist the strength of Reilly’s arms. He pulled her tight against him, causing her to catch the toes of her shoes against his.

  “You wear out the tops, I’ll wear out the bottoms.”

  “Very funny.” Repositioning her feet, Cassandra tried again to put some space between her body and his, but Reilly’s hand, splayed flat across her back, felt like honed steel against her. Glancing over his shoulder, she was relieved to see Edwin engaged in conversation with a couple of men and Willard nowhere in sight.

  “Aren’t you having a good time?”

  Ignoring the warmth his whispered words created deep inside her, Cassandra followed as they stepped into a timeless waltz. “Why’d you do that?”

  “You and Edwin Bancroft were having a disagreement. I thought it was time to step in.”

  “We weren’t having a—”

  “He was upsetting you.” Reilly cut off her words. “I could read it in your body language.”

  She went stiff. Drawing in a deep breath, she forced her muscles to relax. Was it really that evident how she felt about Edwin Bancroft?

  She didn’t want to say she hated the man, but selected events over her lifetime made her guarded of Willard’s father. It had started with an incident in her teens during a party here at the mansion. A drunken Edwin had grabbed her and placed sloppy kisses on her lips and cheeks. She’d been able to push him off, but he’d blamed her and her new bikini for enticing him.

  When he warned her no one would believe her over him, she’d never told a soul what had happened. A few years later at her début, she’d been forced to dance with him at the ball, suffering through his vulgar suggestions and whiskey-laced heavy breathing. Only after she threatened to tell her father did he back off.

  “Hey, where’d you go?”

  Cassandra looked at Reilly. “Nowhere. I’m right here.”

  “Besides the fact you didn’t look very happy standing there with the Bancroft boys, I wanted to dance.”

  “If that’s true—” Cassandra looked away, “—I’m sure you’d have no problem finding a willing partner in the group of ladies you were entertaining.”

  Reilly brought their clasped hands to her chin and with a gentle pressure he forced her to look at him. “I wanted to dance with you.”

  His statement caused a lump to form in her throat. The other couples on the crowded dance floor blurred to a muted rainbow of color until it was only the two of them. She knew she shouldn’t let his words affect her like this. After all, it was his job to stick close to her. “You did? Why?”

  “Hush and enjoy the music.” Lowering their hands to rest over his heart, Reilly inclined his head until his cheek met hers. “Gershwin, gotta love the classics.”

  The faint stubble on his face scraped lightly against her skin, raising goose bumps along her arms. She tried to control the shiver that raced through her as they moved in rhythmic time with the music. “You like George Gershwin?”

  “Not as much as Garth Brooks, but he’s got his moments.”

  Cassandra leaned back to look into Reilly’s eyes. She tried to read the emotion in those gray depths, but it disappeared before she had a chance. “So, who got you into swing music? Your parents?”

  “No.”

  Hardness that matched the feel of his shoulder beneath her fingers settled in those eyes.

  “A lady friend perhaps?”

  “A fellow Marine actually.” Reilly pulled in a deep breath and focused his gaze over her shoulder. “After boot camp I was assigned to a recon unit. We both arrived the same day, and ended up sharing a rack.”

  “I’m sorry, recon? Rack?”

  “Recon, reconnaissance unit.” He returned his attention to her. “The guys who go in first and scout out an area. A rack is another term for a bed, bunk beds to be exact.”

  “You? In a bunk bed?” Cassandra tried to control the giggle threatening to erupt from her. Where had that come from?

  “Go ahead.” One corner of his mouth quirked into a grin while he did a perfect three-point circle in time with the music. “Laugh.”

  Cassandra easily followed, dipping her head to hide her grin. Her amusement at trying to picture Reilly’s hulking body in a bunk bed overrode amazement at his dancing skills. “I’m not laughing.”

  “Do you want to hear this or not?”

  Nodding, she looked at him again. She realized she did want to hear more. It surprised her how important it was to learn something about the man who held her so close in his arms.

  “Anyway, this kid was smaller than me so he got the top rack. Every night he’d put on his headphones and nearly rock himself to sleep. After a week I couldn’t stand it anymore. I asked him what he was listening to. Us both being teenagers, I figured it was rock and roll, but it was the music of George Gershwin.”

  “So you started listening to Gershwin too?”

  “Not exactly. We had a bet and I lost. I had to listen to his tapes every night for a month. By the end of a couple of weeks I was hooked.”

  “What was the bet about?”

  “Oh, no.” Reilly grinned. “That secret I’ll take to my grave.”

  Cassandra returned his smile. “Tell me more about yourself.”

  Again, he dropped a curtain on any emotion, his eyes becoming a blank canvas. “Why?”

  “You’re a total stranger who came barreling into my life on a whim—”

  “I wouldn’t call you being in need of a bodyguard a whim.” Reilly’s fingers pressed into her back, pulling her closer.

  Shocked at the hardness pressing against her belly, it took a moment for her to realize it was the outline of his gun. The realization doused her with a cold shot of reality.

  Cassandra chose to ignore that fact for now, hoping Reilly would continue to open up. “You’ve invaded my home, my business and all I know about you is that you were once a US Marine and you like Gershwin tunes.”

  And he can kiss like a roguish devil. Let’s not forget that.

  But what she said was true. She knew so little about this man. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to her mother and learn exactly where she’d found this Texan-cowboy bodyguard. Now, she
had so many questions rushing inside her head.

  “You said you’re from Texas?” she asked, trying again.

  He guided her to a corner of the dance floor, out of the natural flow of dancers as the music flowed into another swing classic, this one equally unhurried and lingering. “Born and raised.”

  “What about family? Your parents? Are they still there?”

  A long pause filled the air before Reilly spoke. “My mother and stepfather were killed five years ago—this month as a matter of fact—in a plane crash.”

  His words shocked her. She stumbled and he slowed, but wouldn’t allow her to pull away in order to see his face. “Oh, Reilly, I’m so sorry.”

  “Forget it. It was a long time ago.”

  The stiffening of his shoulders and the tone of his voice told her his family was a closed subject, so she pressed onward. “Why the Marine Corps?”

  This time Reilly was the one who moved away. “What?”

  “There are other branches of military service, why the Marines?”

  “Would you believe a John Wayne movie?”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” Cassandra saw the seriousness of his eyes. The memory of her sarcastic comment at her mother’s the first day she met this man flashed in her head. “Really? John Wayne?”

  His mouth formed a hard line before he spoke. “Beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to the influences in their lives.”

  Coldness swept over her. She didn’t know why, but it was coming directly from Reilly. “Well, becoming a Marine must have made your parents proud.” She tried to smile.

  “My mom maybe, my stepfather…he couldn’t have cared less.” Reilly stopped dancing, but didn’t release his hold on her. “I was out of his hair, that’s all that mattered to him.”

  “Oh, I can’t believe that.”

  “Believe it.” His voice dropped to a hard whisper. “Unlike your perfect world, not everyone grew up with a mother who made her child the center of her universe and a father who treated her like a princess.”

  His words cut through Cassandra, as painful as if he’d hit her. Why would he do that? The cold turned to a deep freeze. “You don’t know anything about my life.”