by Jo Leigh
John wasn’t sure how to play this. He’d been stuck in awkward situations before, mostly courtesy of other pilots who were basically twelve when it came to punking, but never when someone else was the fall guy. “Name’s John and I have been here before. More important, I’ve been around long enough to know that our friend here is trying to do her job, and we’re not letting her. So if it’s all the same to you, I’ll make things easy on her and take my leave.”
The crowd didn’t like that answer, but he didn’t give a crap about the crowd. He wanted to make things better for Cassie. That was all. Well, not all. It couldn’t hurt his chances if he went for gallant at this stage of the proceedings.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Cassie said, walking around to the patron’s side of the bar. “Thank you, John, for being a real gentleman. I appreciate the gesture. And you’re right, I do need to get to work. So rather than keep up this ridiculous farce, I’d be grateful if you’d let me kiss you. It won’t take a second.”
“It has to be on the mouth, you know,” Karma said.
“Bull,” Cassie replied, never moving her gaze from his.
“I don’t mind,” he said, lowering his voice so the whole place didn’t hear. He stood, moved in close enough to see the gold flecks in her hazel eyes. “If you wanted to make a point, I would have no objections.”
“What point would that be?”
He leaned down until his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “That you came out the winner after all?”
She huffed out a breath, but as he straightened, her hand cupped the nape of his neck to hold him steady as she pushed up into a kiss that was went from zero to Mach 2 in three seconds.
He wrapped his arms around her as she held him in place and it was all he could do to let her stay in control when he wanted to sweep in like a perfect Lothario and steal her breath with his mad skills.
It came as a very welcome surprise when the tip of her tongue swept across the seam of his lips. He parted them and she slipped inside, and if this was how she wanted to play it, he would give it his best shot.
The catcalls faded behind the sound of his own blood coursing through his veins, the increase in his heartbeat providing a rhythm that somehow she must have felt, because they were completely in sync. The parry and thrust, the quick stolen breaths, the way she moved in the same moment he pulled her close.
His hand spread on her back as the taste of her won out over his last sip of beer. Thank God, because she was amazing. Coffee and mint, as if she’d mixed it herself, a perfect concoction made specifically to tempt him.
He felt a small vibration, as if she’d moaned or whimpered, he couldn’t tell which, but whatever it was, it was a good thing, and if he had his way, the next time that happened he would wring out all her sounds for his ears only.
When she pulled back, he pressed harder, not willing to stop, but then he remembered who she was and that this was her stage and he was just a bit player.
He let her go slowly, adjusting to lights that felt too harsh, noise that made him wince.
Before she let the back of his neck go, she murmured, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She smiled, then turned to face her nemesis. John hoped Cassie got as much satisfaction seeing the look on Karma’s face, complete with dropped jaw, as he did. He’d consider it a resounding success, but only if it was the first kiss of many.
* * *
CASSIE NEEDED A MINUTE. Or thirty. That was not what she’d planned on doing. It was supposed to have appeared like a major kiss, given the impression of passion and lust, that was all. Instead, her brain had gone fuzzy as everything but oh, God, yes had taken over. More had been in there, too. She couldn’t forget more.
She wouldn’t forget him.
Karma’s defeat helped bring her back to her senses, because it was too good to miss. The brazen blonde looked utterly shocked. Her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed, her mouth open. It was awesome. If only she’d had her cell phone with her, she’d have captured the moment for posterity. “Are we done now?” Cassie asked in her most impatient tone.
Karma closed her mouth and sniffed. “I still won,” she said.
“Sure you did, kid,” Cassie said, then headed back to the sink behind the bar, where she proceeded to wash out the mugs that had accumulated in her absence.
Behind her, Lisa bent low and whispered, “You’re my hero. That was legendary.”
Cassie allowed herself a smirk. When she looked up again, Karma and her friends were on their way out, Ariel stealing one last glance at John before the door blocked her view.
Cassie stole a glimpse herself. John was back on his stool, sipping his beer, calm and cool and more handsome than seemed fair. He met her gaze as if she’d called his name, his slow grin part simmer, part promise.
Which was a problem. A much, much bigger problem than it had been half an hour ago. She didn’t date customers. She didn’t date airmen. She most certainly didn’t date pilots. But that kiss...
That kiss had knocked her for a loop. He’d made her knees weak and her heart flutter. She’d been attracted, sure. She had eyes, and he’d impressed her with his behavior in a very awkward situation. But the kiss. Damn. She hadn’t thought that through.
It had been a long time since she’d been kissed. And she’d never been kissed like that.
* * *
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, and John still couldn’t think of anything but Cassie and that kiss. Her hair was longer than he’d thought. The jerking motion of her arm as she washed the bar top had loosened her ponytail, allowing relaxed curls to trail her neck and skim her jiggling breasts. He tried damn hard not to stare. Jesus, she had to stop scrubbing sometime. Or at least look at him. If he’d blown it with her... They barely knew each other. He could have gotten a lot more with a lot less trouble if he’d gone to the Palms with the guys. Somehow, though, he had the feeling Cassie would be worth it.
“Hey, beautiful.” A guy he vaguely recognized from last night had come from the back room and headed straight for Cassie.
She looked up with a smile John was beginning to recognize. This one said, I’m nice, but watch yourself, whereas some of the customers got genuine warmth. “What can I do for you?”
The kid reached across the bar for a cocktail napkin, then made eyes at her. “Run away with me.”
“Let me know when you’re out of short pants and I’ll think about it.” She tossed aside the rag. “Beer? Pretzels? What?”
“I’m your age, sweetheart,” he said, straightening, and looking annoyed. “When are you gonna start taking me seriously?”
“Oh, I don’t know...maybe when you start acting your age.” She sighed. “What can I get for you?”
John hid his smile behind a sip. She was fierce, this one.
Shaking his head, the guy used the napkin to wipe pool chalk off his fingers. “A Miller. It’s for Tommy.”
Cassie’s features tightened. “He can’t wait for Lisa, or come get it himself?”
“Don’t put me in the middle.”
“Tommy did that,” she murmured under her breath, but John heard it. She went for the beer then set the bottle on the bar. “What about you?”
“I’m working on a pitcher. Your dishwasher still out?”
“Yep, so no, you’re not getting a clean mug.”
Chuckling, he grabbed the bottle and as he moved toward the back room said over his shoulder, “Think about what I said...one word and I’ll take you away from all this.”
“Are you kidding?” Cassie spread a hand. “And leave my world of glamour and thrills?” A smile tugged at her lips but didn’t make it full-term. “Hey, Steve—”
He stopped at the door to the back room.
“Remind Tommy he’s supposed to cover for me soon, would you?”
Steve nodded. “Sure.”
Before he turned away, a booming voice from the main room said, “Cassie doesn’t date customers, buddy.”
With
a dismissive flap of his hand, Steve disappeared from sight.
It was the wheelchair-bound vet in the corner who’d made the general announcement, and considering the death glare heading his way John was real clear the message was meant for him, not Steve. That kiss hadn’t just shocked Karma.
He didn’t mind. Good for Cassie having protective people around her. But John was more interested in Cassie’s plans for later on. Was she leaving? Did she have a date? Was that why she needed someone to cover for her?
She took care of a couple drink orders and then made her way back to him. “Did you want pretzels?” she asked, as if he were just another customer.
“No, thanks. I’ll pass.”
“I just opened a new bag.” Smiling, she leaned back on her elbows, facing him, her T-shirt stretching across her breasts.
He focused on her face, using her chin as his boundary. Anything below was off-limits. No looking, even though he could make a case for studying Schrödinger’s cat. But that would make it too easy to lose himself in the memory of how soft she’d felt against him. “The older man in the wheelchair...”
“Gordon?”
“I don’t know...the one who said you don’t date customers.”
Cassie blinked, then looked past John. “Yep, that was Gordon.”
“Is it true?”
She pulled her elbows off the back counter and stood straighter. “Absolutely, one hundred percent true.”
“Ah.” He’d already figured as much. “Because you own the place?”
“I don’t. My brother does.” She leaned over the bar to see into the back room. “Not that you’d know it. He’s playing darts with his friends instead of working up here like he’s supposed to.”
He glanced down at the view of her backside, but quickly raised his gaze before he was caught. “Why won’t you date customers?”
“For one thing, I’m too busy. And secondly, eww.”
He frowned. “I’m not real clear on that last point.”
“Everybody practically knows everybody in here, and if things went south and it got messy...” She rolled her eyes as if she couldn’t bear to think about that for another second. “People would choose sides, and who needs that aggravation?”
John had to laugh. She was probably right. “So dating a regular is the problem, not someone who’s only shown up a couple times.”
Her gaze narrowed. “What are you trying to say?”
“Hypothetically, if I were to ask you out, would I get shot down?”
She seemed startled, but he’d surprised himself, as well. He’d never been one to test the water before jumping in. He’d been lucky when it came to women. But he couldn’t read Cassie. He had a feeling his luck might have run out.
“Hypothetically, huh?” Her lips started to curve, but then something caught her eye, because she turned abruptly toward the back.
Without a word she moved to the other end of the bar, where she filled orders. A guy with a limp was coming from the back room and met her there. Her brother? Yeah, John could see some resemblance despite the man’s scowl. Cassie wasn’t looking too happy herself.
They talked for a minute, voices low, her shooting annoyed looks at the clock behind the bar. When Lisa moved in to unload empty glasses off her tray, the man left to talk to the guys sitting in the corner. He didn’t seem eager to take over for Cassie, and selfishly, John hoped she stayed behind the bar for a while longer.
As soon as Lisa hefted her tray of fresh drinks, Cassie walked over with a slip of paper in her hand. John knew it was his tab, and that she was leaving. Damn it. Obviously she had someplace to go. He wouldn’t hold her up.
“You can pay up now,” she said, her eyes level with his, as if trying to communicate something she hesitated to say outright. “But you don’t have to. I’m leaving for the night. If Tommy ignores you, Lisa will bring you refills.”
Her brother was laughing with Gordon’s group. “Why would he ignore me?”
“Tommy’s—” Sighing, she shook her head. “Well, he’s not a total ass, but he can be moody.” With a resigned expression, she met John’s eyes, opened her mouth to say something else, but reconsidered. Her gaze drifted toward Tommy, and she laid down the slip of paper.
John dug out his wallet.
“Really, you don’t have to settle up this minute.”
“I’m heading out, too.” He peeled off two tens. “Sitting here won’t be much fun without you.”
“Right. Because I’ve been a barrel of laughs.” She stared down at the money he set in front of her. “I’ll be back with your change.”
“Nope. Keep it.”
“You’re horrible at math, you know that?”
John ignored the disapproval in her voice and slipped his wallet into his back pocket. His military ID had been in plain view until he remembered and did a quick shuffle. He hoped she hadn’t seen it. Probably not. She seemed preoccupied. He glanced down at his tab again and noticed some writing on the bottom. Her full name. An address. A time. And the word tomorrow with a question mark.
He looked up at her.
She was blushing again, not nearly as much as she had when she’d lost. But she also was looking at him with serious eyes. “This is not a date,” she said. “Let me repeat. Not. A. Date. But it is dinner. As a thank-you. You were great tonight, and I appreciate it.”
He felt as though he’d won something big. First the kiss, and now this? “Tomorrow is good. I’ll be there.”
“Cassie,” Tommy yelled across the room. “Two more gin and tonics.”
Her gaze became a glare. “I will remain calm,” she muttered. “I will not strangle him. At least not in front of witnesses.”
“If I had a nickel for every time my sister said that about me...”
“You mean, you’re not perfect?”
“Not by a mile.” He stood, shoved his stool under the lip of the bar. He wanted to get the hell out of there before she could change her mind. She might not call it a date, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be the start of something great.
She headed for the gin bottle. He hurried to the door. One last look behind him found her watching him leave. He nodded. She ducked her head and poured.
6
TRAFFIC WAS BAD and normally John wouldn’t have suffered the bottleneck so graciously, but he was early to pick up Cassie, so he could afford to be patient. He’d mapped out her address and had a good idea where he was going. If he had to wait in the car until six-thirty, so be it.
Cassie O’Brien. He thought back to his college days, to the women he’d dated or more recent hookups, whether arranged by friends’ wives or after a night of club-hopping, and he couldn’t think of anyone like her. Not even close. She was unique, all right, and refreshing. She spoke her mind, wasn’t obsessed about her appearance and yet, every time he looked at her, he liked what he saw. A lot.
He turned down her street, surprised to see a lineup of apartment buildings. Her address was in his top pocket and he pulled it out for another look. She hadn’t given him a unit number. Damn. Had she done that on purpose? No, that made no sense. He knew where she worked.
Slowing to a crawl, he systematically checked each building address. When he got to the end of the street he saw a trio of duplexes, all painted tan but each with its own number. The first one on the left was Cassie’s. There was a Ford four-door parked in the driveway. The car had to be over fifteen years old and looked like something Stephen King might use for a character.
He parked at the curb with eight minutes to spare. With the air-conditioning on he listened to an old Van Morrison CD while he checked out her neighborhood. Very blue-collar, clean, neat, with obvious pride taken in the small lawns and flower beds. Cassie’s grass had recently been mowed and a large pot of yellow and pink flowers sat on the porch.
At six twenty-eight he knocked on the front door. It needed a fresh coat of paint. He saw a curtain move and then heard the doorknob turn.
“Hey,” she sai
d, swinging the door open and stepping back. Her hair was down, bouncing in loose curls around her shoulders. “Come in.”
“Hi.” He stared at her shorts, jeans that had been chopped off, leaving the hem frayed. Man, she had a great pair of legs.
“The place is kind of a mess. I didn’t have a chance to organize the chaos by the time I got home,” she said, gesturing him to the left. “But the kitchen is okay.”
“You just got home?”
“About an hour ago.” Her pink tank top didn’t meet the waistband of her shorts, leaving an inch of tanned skin exposed. “You have any trouble finding me?”
He smiled at her bare feet and bright red toenails. “No.”
“I should’ve told you I live in a duplex.” She gave his gray slacks a quick frown then took the lead. “What would you like to drink? I have beer, iced tea, orange juice and possibly a couple cans of cola.”
John took a look at her tanned legs from the rear and forgot the question. “Uh, what was that?” He followed her through a small room with a floral couch, a black sling-back canvas chair and two tables covered with books. Textbooks. Plants were everywhere, not the decorative artificial variety, but overgrown ferns and glossy-leaved vines that seemed determined to take over the house.
Only a Formica counter crowded with more plants and books separated the room from a tiny galley kitchen. A pair of tall stools sat on the living room side in front of two place mats. A toaster, microwave and blender took up most of the space between the stove and wall on the opposite counter.
Cassie stood at an old white refrigerator that was covered in snapshots and magnets. “What will it be? Oh, I’ve also got wine. Chardonnay.”
“Thanks, but I was hoping to convince you to let me take you out for dinner. You’ve been working hard lately.” He checked out the title of one of the books on the counter. Something about neurology. “And I’m guessing it’s not made easier by the fact that you’re a student?”
She nodded. “Thanks for the thought, but I invited you to dinner. I didn’t think you’d mind staying here. It won’t take long to make, and then I’ve got to hit the books.”
