Which, Cassie was sure, was about to be the topic of conversation for this call.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you,” her mother continued, “but we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Elísa is concerned you don’t have a date for the wedding yet.”
There it was. “I think you’re more concerned than she is, Mom.”
“Your sister has enough to do without worrying about this. You want to be the only one at the wedding without a date?”
Cassie’s fingers tensed on her neck. Marriage and babies were another place she’d gone off-track. She was the eldest child in the family, and the only one not paired off, which was a cardinal sin as far as her mother was concerned.
She wasn’t the only person Cassie heard it from, though. The question was a constant at Bar Association meetings, new employee orientations and committees she’d been assigned to.
You have kids?
Nope.
Husband?
Nope.
Cat? Dog? Small aquarium?
Nope. Nope. Double nope. For the moment, it was her and her work. But now that Cassie was approaching the ripe old age of thirty-nine, all her mother could talk about was her single status, or the lack of productivity of her uterus.
“I don’t need a date. I’m the maid of honor. There’s a guy ready-made to walk me down the aisle.”
“That won’t always be the case, mi vida. The clock is ticking, you know.”
She knew. They’d had this discussion so often, Cassie couldn’t look at a clock without wincing. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a family—at least, she wasn’t sure she didn’t—but she’d put the decision on hold while she’d pursued her career.
For half her life, she’d put her job first. How nice, to see how well her hard work had paid off.
“It’s only September, Mom. The wedding isn’t until Thanksgiving. I have two months to find someone.”
For a date, not a husband. She could at least find time to do that much.
As her mother launched into an update on All Things Miami Wedding, Cassie’s phone beeped with a text. She pulled it away from her ear and thumbed over the screen.
“Just warning you,” Lilly’s message read. “Patrick is here.”
Cassie’s lip curled in an involuntary sneer.
Looking up, she searched through the pub until she saw him. Patrick Dunham, otherwise known as Jack’s best friend, wingman and a man-whoring chauvinistic pig. She’d been forced to share oxygen with him since Lilly met Jack and Patrick had become part of their circle. And there he was, sauntering into the bar like he owned it.
Scanning the room for his next victim, no doubt.
A publishing magnate, Patrick was your classic playboy—rich, privileged and born with a sense of entitlement. He expected women to drop at his feet because of his money and apparent talent in bed. Not Cassie. For months she’d watched other unsuspecting fools fawn all over him, watched him leave with a different one every night, never committing to a single one. He didn’t try to hide it either. The very first day she’d met him, he’d proudly admitted to never dating the same woman twice with an egotistical, blasé and satisfied smile.
She wasn’t sure any man had infuriated her so much.
Across the room, Patrick saw her and met her gaze with the conceited smirk she’d seen too many times before, his thick shoulders stretching the confines of his button-down shirt as he crossed his arms. Cassie’s body heated as she glared back. He was attractive, but there was no soul behind that mask of green eyes, the thick black hair and goatee which showed no hint of grey despite him being midway through his forties. If every other woman in this room was his prey, Cassie was the one exception. She’d become his natural enemy, impervious to his good looks, smooth talk and cunning wiles.
It hadn’t always been the case.
Once she’d enjoyed the quipped lines they exchanged like a good debate or a cross-examination. It was passionate. Exciting. And there was that one night at a party months ago, when she’d imagined that aggression turning into something hot and sweaty and desperate. But he’d quickly proved he was nothing but a tease. A fake. No ambition whatsoever except the chase. Men like that didn’t get under Cassie’s skin, or her sheets.
He smiled at her before breaking eye contact and disappearing into the crowd. Good. Let him disappear. She wasn’t interested anyway.
And her mother had been prattling on about dates and weddings all this time.
Cassie switched into Spanish, firing out words to quickly wrap up the conversation.
“Mamá, me tengo que ir. Hablo contigo mas tarde.” She had to go. She’d talk to her later.
Much later.
“Okay. Besos.”
Blowing a kiss, Cassie ended the call and marched back to the table with her chin held high. Tonight, she was going to enjoy her drink and her friends and ignore the shit out of Patrick Dunham. She didn’t need his attention, or her mother’s approval. She didn’t need a husband or a baby either. What she did need was to make partner, and she was going to get there, somehow.
She’d busted her ass to get this far, and she’d be damned if she let anything get in her way.
2
Barrel ’n’ Flask was packed.
It wasn’t a shock, not on a warm, early September night with a game starting at Fenway. This time of year had more people cramming into the popular pub than usual. The line by the bar was three people deep, the air thick with music and conversation. Which was exactly the way Patrick liked it.
A virtual smorgasbord of possibilities waited for him here—blondes, brunettes and redheads of every shape, size and color. He’d caught a few of the lust-drunk glances he’d become accustomed to over the years, then paused as three women dressed in tiny shirts emblazoned with the Red Sox logo offered him sultry grins.
He’d grinned back. They could offer him a night of fun for sure, but an orgy wasn’t what he was into tonight, although he’d done that before. He wasn’t hunting for a sleek professional either, the kind of woman who’d seem out of place in a sports bar, eager to escape as soon as he whispered the words You wanna get out of here?
He’d had enough of those types this week—willing women who’d sidled up to him at the Society of Book Writers fundraising dinner and the New England industry trade show’s glitzy charity ball event. The suited, tight-lipped publicist he’d made scream the night before had been too easy to entice.
No, there was only one woman he was looking for. And once he’d seen her, all shining brown hair and bright blue eyes, Patrick did the one thing he always loved to do around Cassie Allbright: he made eye contact, held it, then went straight to those Red Sox groupies and got not one, but all of their phone numbers.
“Overachieving a bit tonight?”
Hearing his best friend’s voice, Patrick glanced up and grinned. “It’s been a slow week.”
“And a slow week for you is only taking a woman home three nights out of seven?”
Buddies since they were teenagers, Jack had long ago stopped blinking an eye at Patrick’s desire to spread the wealth of his looks and sexual talents around. He hadn’t been like this in high school, or college either, but Jack had never asked why. Like a good friend should, he’d taken Patrick’s one-eighty in stride without question. He’d also provided the only sense of normalcy Patrick had ever known.
“Exactly,” Patrick said. “I’m making up for lost time.”
Jack chuckled, then looked to the petite blonde standing by Cassie’s side. “So am I.”
Across the room, Jack’s girlfriend, Lilly, blushed. Patrick watched them hold one another’s gazes and pocketed the napkins with feminine handwriting scrawled on them. “If I were a different kind of man, I’d be jealous.”
Jack glanced his way. “But you—”
“Are not a different kind of man.”
Patrick was happy for Jack and Lilly, but commitment wasn’t for him. Sure, he’d believed in happil
y-ever-afters once, when he was foolish enough to imagine finding a soul mate to go off into the sunset with. But those were childish fantasies. Besides, why would he want one woman when he could have all of Boston?
“I know better than to get into this with you.” Jack nodded to the Sox girls. “Which one of them is getting ensnared tonight?”
Patrick was about to answer when Cassie threw her head back, all big smile and white teeth and sexy, badass confidence.
Not the one I want. “We’ll see. It might not be any of them. The night’s still young.”
They purchased their beers and made their way to the table their group was gathered around. Cassie ignored him as usual, busying herself with her drink and her phone. Jack’s younger brother Brady, however, greeted Patrick like an eager Labrador puppy.
“Three women in under ten minutes.” He saluted Patrick with a bow. “You’re my idol.”
“You’d better be glad Samantha didn’t hear you say that.”
Brady’s smile faltered for a second. “Yeah, well, she’s not with me tonight, is she?”
Bravado if Patrick had ever heard it, and a sign of trouble in the suburban paradise Brady shared with his wife, but that was none of Patrick’s business.
“I guess not. Which means you’re my wingman on my next round. See if you can’t help me double my scores in half the time.”
Cassie made a disgusted sound. Patrick glanced her way to find her staring at him in what could only be described as revulsion.
“You’re a pig,” she said.
It wasn’t the first time she’d called him that. He didn’t mind. It meant he’d gotten her attention. “Jealous, are we?”
“Jealous of women who don’t know you’re leaving them high and dry in the morning? No, I’m smarter than that.”
Patrick’s grin grew wider, his body winding up with the same charge it always did when he and Cassie clashed. A gorgeous, curvy lawyer with brains and a biting sense of humor, she was as standoffish as she was sexy, and the one woman who’d been able to resist his charms. It was amusing as hell, having her insult him, and their verbal sparring had become his favorite way to kick off the weekend. It was also a nice change of pace. Seduction was an art Patrick had become a fucking Picasso at by age forty-six, and he loved a challenge.
“I prefer to be upfront with my conquests,” he said, enjoying the way Cassie’s eyes narrowed at his choice of words. “I offer women what they want: a night of dirty, no-strings-attached sex, and I haven’t heard anyone complain yet.”
“Maybe you’re not listening closely enough.”
Listening closely was Patrick’s area of expertise. He had an uncanny ability with observation, a sixth sense on picking up body language and clues. That was how he’d gotten to be so good at seduction, women practically begging to dish out their most illicit fantasies. He’d bet he could do the same with Cassie if she weren’t such a sniping, closed-off bitch.
He moved into her space, close enough to get a whiff of her perfume—a sweet, floral fragrance that would smell damn nice on his pillows in the morning—but leaving enough distance to show her he wasn’t interested.
“I listen. To every whimper, moan and sigh that proves they are one hundred percent satisfied.”
Cassie rolled her eyes and went back to her phone, but it was clear he’d gotten to her. The apples of her cheeks had gone pink—a color that stole down her throat and to the hint of cleavage at the opening in her blouse. Provoking her was childish, but it was the only time he ever saw a break in her composure, and he enjoyed pissing her off.
Other than that heated flush, however, she remained as polished as ever in her skirt and high heels. She was hard up, probably from being so cold, aloof and superior.
Time to push a little bit harder.
“Maybe that’s your problem, Cassie. A lack of…satisfaction in your life.”
Her gaze snapped up, and those piercing blue eyes grew even angrier. Victory blazed in the pit of his stomach. No one else triggered his mean streak like Cassie did. It was such a rush, getting her like this, and knowing he’d hit a nerve revved him up even more.
“My only problem right now is the empty glass in my hand.” She shoved off her stool. “Excuse me.”
She brushed past him and stalked toward the bar. Lilly turned on Patrick.
“Do you have to give her such a hard time? She’s had a bad day, and you’re not helping.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t do anything but speak the truth.”
She jabbed a finger at his chest. “That’s not what you do, and you know it. You say things to make her angry.”
“Well, yeah. But it’s so much fun.”
Lilly narrowed her eyes until Jack reached up and lightly tapped her hand. She glanced at him, and something silent passed between them. Patrick didn’t have to have been Jack’s best friend, or active in the BDSM lifestyle, to know her behavior was that of a well-trained submissive. It was clear in the dynamic between her and Jack, as much in their unspoken glances as the padlocked heart around Lilly’s neck.
Patrick had never been into that kind of play full time, although it was an interesting way to spend an evening. He’d been both dominant and submissive, been tied up and done the tying, begged for release and brought women to the point of tearful pleading for the same. Whatever their fantasy was, he made it happen, escaping from reality for a night of pure physical pleasure.
But that was where it ended. No relationships. Just sex. He didn’t get involved in their lives, and he had good reasons for keeping it that way.
Lilly wrinkled her nose and lowered her finger. “I’m not wrong,” she said to Jack.
“You’re not. But be nice.”
“Yes, Sir.” She made a face at Patrick before going to join Cassie. Jack sipped his beer as she walked off.
“Lilly’s right. You do like to rile Cassie up,” he said.
“It’s only because she’s such an easy mark.”
Brady snorted. “She’s a mark you’ve been trying to hit for months.”
Patrick shot the kid a glare. Yeah, Jack’s little brother was still a kid to him, even though the guy was well into his thirties—but Brady wasn’t deterred.
“You can deny it all you want,” he added. “You want her, and she can’t stand you.”
Patrick turned to watch as Cassie leaned over the bar to give the bartender her order. The move put her full, heart-shaped ass into view, the silky ends of her hair grazing her neck, and he wondered for the thousandth time what fantasies lingered behind her steel exterior. All too often, he’d imagined what she was hiding behind her sarcastic mouth, and how enjoyable it would be to tease that information out of her.
He’d almost gotten there, one night months ago when he’d been able to cut through her snark and talk to her. But the next time they met, she’d resumed her customary bitchy ways, so he’d gone back to his regularly scheduled programming as well.
“She can go ahead and not stand me all she wants,” he muttered. “The feeling is mutual.”
“I think it’s time for a subject change,” Brady said. “Patrick, I’m hoping I can pilfer our connection and ask you a question about publishing.”
Patrick turned away from his view of the bar. “What am I the V.P. of a huge corporation for if not to offer free services to my friends?”
“Family,” Jack corrected. Patrick laughed it off.
Growing up, Jack had made sure to make Patrick feel included, inviting him over for meals when being in the Dunham home was impossible. He was doing the same now. Patrick appreciated the sentiment, but it wasn’t necessary. He’d spent years cultivating a life where he was dependent on no one, where he could come and go as he pleased. He had friends, money and sex. Family was overrated.
He sat on the stool next to Brady. “What’s up?”
“You know how Samantha is always taking pictures of healthy meals and putting them on Instagram?” Brady asked. Patrick nodded. “She’s
been doing more of that. She’s got a ton of followers, and I thought maybe it would be cool for her to get them published.”
“Is that something she’s interested in?”
“I dunno.” Brady shrugged and looked at his glass. “She hasn’t been happy lately. Bored, maybe. I think she might need something more than taking care of the kids.”
Patrick and Jack shared glances. More signs of trouble for Brady and Sam.
“It’s a possibility,” Patrick said. “The editorial team is always looking for new get-healthy books they can market after the new year. If she’s got a following already, it might be something we can do.”
And something no one would challenge Patrick on if he brought the concept to the team. Dunham and Strauss Books was his company, but he was mostly a figurehead without any real clout. What interested him didn’t matter. He was needed to optimize strategies and generate revenue. That was what filled Patrick’s days—running the global sales department of his father’s legacy of a publishing house. He didn’t spend time worrying about quality literary content, art or good books. Just dollar signs. Not that he filled his time with reading. Still, even though his job allowed him his expensive apartment and the lifestyle he’d become accustomed to, every day he stepped into the building with his namesake stamped on the doors sucked a little more life out of him.
Regardless, glossy hardcovers like the one Brady was after sold well. Years of strategic planning had taught him that much.
“Give me a call on Monday,” he told Brady. “I’ll find someone to hook you up with.”
“Of course you will.” Cassie snuck up on him as she returned from the bar. Patrick turned around with a start. “Hooking up is your forte, isn’t it?”
God, she was obnoxious. She’d caught him off-guard and she knew it.
“We were talking about work, but you’re right. It is my forte. Thank you for reminding me.”
“No problem.” She motioned toward his seat. “Now if you’ll give me my chair back, I have a drink to enjoy.”
Her Claim: Legally Bound Book 2 Page 2
