“You know that when I pay attention to Mary Jane it’s all acting.”
“Why would I care that you pay attention to her? Or if you were seriously interested?”
“We have to appear vulnerable so that Robert approaches you.”
“This conversation is totally unnecessary.” She tried to twist out of his hold.
“Wait. The thing is, it would be better if you didn’t act jealous.”
She gasped. “I’m not acting jealous.”
His eyebrows rose. “It’s not an act?”
“You know what I mean.”
He smiled. “If it looks like you don’t care who I sniff around, Bask will think you’re easy pickings.”
“Sniff around? What a charming way to put it.”
A sheepish look briefly crossed his face. “It wouldn’t hurt if you did a little flirting yourself.”
“These men are all married.”
“I said flirt, not jump their bones.”
“You really need to work on your vocabulary.”
“Hey, you two.” Mary Jane’s voice startled them. She’d poked her head out of the dining room. “We’re waiting dinner on you.”
“Sorry,” Cassie muttered and exchanged one last look with Dalton before leading the way back down the hall.
“Have you two been arguing?” Mary Jane asked as they all sat down at the table.
Mary Jane gestured Dalton to the empty seat beside her, so Cassie took the only other available chair next to Harvey. The way he grinned at her made her skin crawl.
“Nope.” Dalton smiled. “I’m a lover not a fighter.”
Cassie rolled her gaze heavenward.
Mary Jane giggled. “Good. You all are supposed to be reconnecting, not arguing.”
“I’m ready to do some connecting,” Harvey said to no one in particular, and Cassie felt something hit her leg.
Pretty sure it was Harvey’s hand, she shifted her knees in the other direction.
“Yes, Harvey, we all know about you,” Simone said in a bored voice. “I need another martini.”
“Tasha will be bringing in the soup at any moment. Ah, here she is.”
A short, stocky dark-haired woman with thick nylons and black shoes that resembled combat boots came through the swinging doors carrying a large ceramic tureen. Her gruff expression didn’t waver as she set the soup on the buffet against the wall.
“I don’t want any soup. I want a martini. Grant?” Simone gave her husband an expectant look.
“We’re going to have wine in a minute, Simone, just hold on.”
She stiffened, her gaze throwing daggers at her husband. “I don’t want to have to ask you again.”
Silence saturated the room while the couple dueled with their eyes. Finally, Grant muttered a curse and got up from the table and headed for the parlor.
Tasha paid no attention. She ladled what looked like a borsht into bowls and set one before each person.
“Simone.” Mary Jane’s voice was surprisingly stern.
“You’re not a rookie at this. You know better. This is not the way to start off the week.”
“Shut up, Mary Jane. Easy for you to say. It’s obvious you already have designs on him.” She glanced at Dalton and then drained the last few drops of her martini.
Mary Jane turned redder than a tomato. “Simone, I think perhaps you’ve had enough to drink.”
The older woman looked as if she were about to bite off Mary Jane’s head, but then backed off and stared at her plate.
Odd. Really odd. Cassie had missed something. She’d have made a sizable bet that Simone would never have deferred to the younger woman. Dalton seemed a little puzzled, too, so at least it wasn’t her imagination.
Mary Jane smiled brightly at the others. “You’re going to love this cabbage soup. It’s a borsht, kind of sweet and sour. It’s a favorite here.”
While Tasha finished serving, the silence grew thick and awkward. Cassie seized the moment. “Mary Jane, I noticed there are some Brigadoon roses out by the pool.”
The other woman wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know anything about flowers.”
“Oh, I had a question about them. You have a gardener, I assume?”
“Mr. Hamada comes three days a week, but I’m afraid he doesn’t speak English.”
Cassie sighed, forcing herself not to look at Dalton. “Oh, too bad.”
“Is that really cabbage?” Tom’s tone of disgust drew everyone’s attention. “Why is it a funny color?”
“Tom.” Kathy laid a hand on her husband’s arm.
He made a face at the soup again, but said nothing more.
Grant returned with Simone’s drink and she smiled up at him as she took the glass. “You need to take lessons from Tom here. He knows when to shut up.”
Mary Jane reached across Dalton and grabbed the martini, splashing some of it on the white tablecloth. “Enough, Simone.” She gave the other woman a pointed glare, and then returned to a perky smile. “Okay, everyone has their soup. Let’s eat.”
The silence grew awkward again, while everyone concentrated on their food until Harvey suggested Mary Jane fill them in on tomorrow’s activities.
She demurred at first. “I thought I’d wait until dessert.”
“Why? Most of us know what we’re in for.” Harvey gave Cassie another one of those skin-prickling grins. “Maybe I should explain.”
“That’s all right.” Mary Jane quickly set down her spoon. “As most of you know, tomorrow morning we meet for our group session where we’ll discuss what we hope to accomplish during this next week.”
Simone laughed. “I don’t think that’s the part Harvey is interested in.”
Mary Jane gave her a warning glance. “At that time you’ll discuss issues in the marriage that have been the cause of disagreements. Every person will have the floor without any interruption, and then your spouse will have a chance to respond. Later, we’ll discuss observations of the others about how each couple communicates.”
Great. Cassie looked at Dalton. Her only consolation was that he didn’t look any more thrilled over the exercise than she was.
“After lunch,” Mary Jane continued, “you’ll relearn how to touch each other.”
Cassie was damn glad she didn’t have anything in her mouth that she could’ve spit out.
“Now, we’re talking,” Harvey said, and brushed up against Cassie’s leg.
She had a good mind to give him a bruising pinch that would remind him to keep his hands to himself for the rest of the week. Dalton caught her eye and the concern in his face warmed her. He couldn’t possibly have seen Harvey’s deliberate touch but something in her expression must have alerted him. She gave him a reassuring smile, and he winked.
Silly how the small gesture turned her to mush. Ridiculous, really, but it seemed so personal, as if she was the only one in the room with him, as if they shared some private joke or secret. Which of course they did, making her reaction all the more silly.
Mary Jane directed her smile at Cassie and Tom and Kathy. “Don’t pay attention to them. They like riling the newcomers. It’s their version of an initiation.”
Tom and Kathy exchanged nervous glances.
“Tomorrow afternoon you’ll relearn how to touch each other,” Mary Jane said evenly. “The exercise will start with massage class.”
Tom muttered a curse.
Kathy coughed. “In front of everyone?”
“Only during the massage lesson. I’ll show you the Swedish version and make sure you’re doing it correctly. After that, you’ll break up and practice in private. I’ll peek in from time to time to make sure you’re staying in the spirit of the exercise.”
Cassie held her breath. This was not what she’d signed up for. She didn’t want to touch Dalton. Well, she did, but that was the problem.
Dalton laughed, and everyone stared at him. “Explain this spirit of the exercise.”
“Pleasing your partner.”
�
��Oh, goody.” Simone had managed to recover her martini and she sipped it with a bored expression. “How about if we want to please someone else’s—”
“The goal,” Mary Jane quickly continued, effectively cutting off Simone, “is to recapture the feelings you had when you first met, when you began dating and wanted nothing more than to please each other.”
Simone let out a bored sigh. “Well, Grant, it looks as if we missed a phase.”
Her husband didn’t so much as blink.
“When you say you’ll be peeking in, do you mean into our rooms?” Cassie asked, and Tom and Kathy leaned forward with interest.
“Wherever you choose to give the massages. By the pool, or in the exercise room, your bedroom, it’s up to you.”
At the mention of public places, Cassie breathed with relief. The session couldn’t be too bad.
Mary Jane picked up the brass bell in front of her plate and rang for Tasha. “Of course most couples choose the privacy of their rooms since we encourage nudity.”
DALTON SLIPPED into Bask’s office and locked the door behind him. A computer sat on the credenza behind a large teak desk, already on, but dormant. He moved the mouse, and then while he waited for the computer to come to life, he checked the desk drawers. No luck. Bask had locked everything tight. Dalton would have to break in later. Right now, the information in the computer interested him more.
A couple of file folders sat on the corner of the desk.
He rifled through them. Nothing of particular note, but he copied some names and phone numbers of potential clients. Or maybe they were former clients. Either way, the information could prove useful.
Several icons appeared on the computer screen and he sat down to study them. The chair creaked under his weight, and his gaze flew toward the door. He waited a couple of minutes. No light came on in the hall.
Damn, he should have used Cassie as a lookout or distraction. He laughed to himself. That was the problem. She was already a distraction. What the hell was wrong with him anyway? Spending the week together posing as husband and wife, sharing the same room—shit, the same bed—how could he have thought otherwise?
Her scent alone was enough to drive him crazy. Sweet and sexy and sinful all at once. Man, he had to stay on guard every minute, really focus or he was going to blow this fluff case. Talk about getting egg on his face.
He checked out the directory and went to the database program, although Bask would be an idiot to leave evidence there. Which didn’t mean there wouldn’t be clues. He found some more names and addresses, and downloaded the files into the disk he’d brought with him. Then he looked for correspondence. By the time he’d read the first several, he realized they were all form letters, and the names on them were the same ones in the database.
One final check for anything in the word processing program and then he had to get out of Dodge. But before he did, he made sure he erased his trail. No need to take any more risks than he already had.
CASSIE BOLTED upright as soon as she heard Dalton slip into the room. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Miss me?”
“I thought you’d only be gone a—” She cut herself off, remembering she had to keep her voice lowered.
Dalton didn’t seem concerned. As if they’d shared a room a hundred times before, he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. She’d left the bathroom light on with the door opened a crack, enough for light to filter into the bedroom but not broadcast the fact that they were still awake.
Dalton stood directly in the path of the illumination, his bare chest in full view. “I made some headway. Not much, but some.”
“Did you—?” She stopped herself, frustrated that they couldn’t talk freely.
“Hold on. I’ll get into bed in a minute.” He scratched his bare chest and shoved a hand through his hair.
He looked tired. And maddeningly sexy with the light sprinkling of hair that arrowed toward his waist. His skin was a golden tan all the way to the top of his low-riding jeans. He removed his belt and she shifted her gaze when her thoughts began to falter. She plumped her pillow, but out of the corner of her eye tracked his movement to the bathroom.
He opened the door wide, letting light flood over her and she automatically pulled the sheets up to cover her breasts, which was ridiculous since she had her bra on under her nightshirt.
He left the door partially open while he brushed his teeth and washed his face. She’d seen a pair of shorts draped over his suitcase and wondered if that was what he’d sleep in.
“You want the light left on?” he asked a few minutes later, standing in the doorway, watching her, his hand on the switch.
“No, thanks.” Her mouth had grown dry and her pulse speeded up, but not because she was anxious for him to get in bed. Well, she was, but only so they could talk. She tugged down her shirt even though she wore shorts beneath.
He flipped the switch and the sudden darkness blinded her.
“Ouch! Dammit.”
“What’s wrong?” She blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust.
“I hit my toe on the corner of the bed.”
“You could’ve left the light on if you wanted.”
“Dammit.”
“What now?”
“I hit the other corner.”
Cassie laughed, but then the mattress dipped with his weight and she couldn’t remember what was so funny.
“I’m glad my pain entertains you,” he said, his voice awfully close.
“Pain? You stubbed your toe.”
“Like that’s supposed to tickle?”
“Oh, poor baby.” Her eyes had adjusted and she was able to see his outline. As far as she knew he hadn’t changed from his jeans. He couldn’t possibly have. Was that what he planned on sleeping in?
“Come on. I know you want me in perfect shape for tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster, considering her stomach turned somersaults at the reminder of their massage lesson.
He chuckled so close the vibration tickled her ear. She stiffened, afraid to breathe. How had he managed to get that close?
“Cassie?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not going to get all prim and modest on me tomorrow, are you?”
“What’s wrong with being prim and modest? I bet Kathy won’t be too anxious to strip down and let us watch her get massaged.”
“But you’re not the type.” His voice was so low she had to move her head closer to hear him.
“I beg your pardon.”
“Don’t get all offended. I only meant that most pretty women with a body like yours like to show off their goods.”
She didn’t say anything, too overwhelmed by a mix of embarrassment and pleasure.
“Ah, hell, you know what I mean.” He sighed loudly. “Why don’t you get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“No way.” She quickly summoned her composure. “I want to know what you found tonight.”
“Nothing incriminating in itself. His office was a piece of cake to get into and I managed to get into his computer and download some client names.”
“Is what you’re doing legal?”
A flash of teeth told her he was smiling. “As I was saying, the names might help us in case we need corroborating witnesses. Also some bank names but no account numbers. Even here he’s cautious.”
“Anything else?”
“A plane ticket to Rio.”
“Well, that’s something. For when?”
“That I didn’t get.”
“But that’s important. That’ll tell us when he’s planning on closing a deal.”
“No kidding, Sherlock. I heard someone in the hall and had to turn the light off.”
Stung by his remark, she bit her lower lip.
“Cassie.” He touched her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m tired and disappointed I didn’t find more, but I have no business taking it out on you.”
“No big deal.”
His fingers trailed her cheek to her hairline. He paused and then plunged them into her hair. “Without him here, tonight was the perfect opportunity to get something on him, and I blew it.”
“No, you didn’t. If there was nothing to get what could you do?” She closed her eyes, enjoying the way he massaged her scalp and then worked his way to the back of her neck. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Yeah, you’re right. But now I’ll have to poke around while he’s here.”
“You mean, we.”
“Right. Now we hope he makes a move on you soon.”
“Great.” She shifted, uncomfortable suddenly at the thought of getting cozy with Bask, and accidentally hit Dalton’s with her foot. His leg. Briefly. But enough to know it was bare. But how? He’d had on jeans. His shorts were in the closet….
Oh, God.
“We’re the most likely target. It’s pretty obvious you can’t stand me and you want out.”
“Huh?” Dare she touch his leg again? Just to make sure it was really bare. His words finally registered. “That’s not true.”
“Here you go getting defensive again. It should look like we’ve about had it with each other.”
“Simone and Grant look like far more likely candidates. They’ve gone beyond despising each other to indifference. Nothing worse than that.”
Dalton remained silent for a long time. He moved away from her and rolled onto his back. “Let’s get some sleep.”
She’d obviously said something wrong. But what? They were talking about the case. Or had she somehow struck close to home for him? “Dalton?”
“Yeah?”
She started to touch his shoulder but pulled back. Ever since he’d told her he didn’t mix business with pleasure, the thought of kissing him, lying naked beside him, simmered in the back of her mind. Had that been his ploy? “Good night.”
“Good night, Cassie.” He turned over, giving her his back.
7
“I’M NEVER GOING to be like your daddy, Kathy. You knew that when you married me.” Tom folded his arms across his chest, his expression dark and mutinous.
Two feet away facing him, Kathy leaned forward in her metal folding chair. “I’m not asking you to be like him. That’s not what I want. I just want you to give him a chance. He offered you a job because of your ability, not because you’re my husband.”
Hands On Page 7
