by Arlene James
“The thing is,” he began, “if we have to style those wigs ourselves, well, we might as well just forget them and style everybody’s hair, then we could use the wig money for—”
Cassidy cut him off with a shake of her head, then pressed her fingertips to her scalp in an effort to still the throbbing. “Not all of us have hair the proper length or color and... Can we discuss this later, please?”
“But, Cass—”
“Later,” Paul interrupted sternly, reaching between them to clamp a hand around Cassidy’s wrist. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked her.
“It’s nothing. Just a headache.”
“She probably hasn’t eaten,” Tony said, a touch of smugness mixed with the knowledge of familiarity. “She gets these when she doesn’t eat.”
It was true, Cassidy reflected dimly, that she’d skipped lunch, and breakfast had been a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, but she had so much to do. She sighed, and the top of her head nearly came off. Paul tugged on her wrist.
“I’m taking you to dinner. Come on.”
“What she needs is aspirin and a dark room,” Tony said.
“She’ll get that, too.”
Tony grumbled but took himself off. Paul pulled her into the curve of his arm.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you fed and medicated.”
Her eyes closed, Cassidy nodded gently and laid her head on his shoulder.
“If Cassidy’s ill,” William said, “I’d better take her home.” It was his don’t-bother-arguing-with-me voice, and Cassidy discovered that she was too tired and in too much pain to do so. Reluctantly she opened her eyes and looked up at Paul apologetically.
“I’m not fit for company tonight,” she said.
Paul frowned. “I know you’re not. I don’t want company. I want to take care of you.” Worry roughened his voice and warmed Cassidy from the inside out. She smiled, comforted despite the pounding in her skull. Had she seen the look on William’s face, though, she’d have wept.
Stepping into their path as Paul urged her forward again, William said flatly, “I can’t allow this to go on any longer.”
“Allow?” Paul echoed. “We’re all adults here, Will. I don’t think it’s up to you to allow anything.”
“Cassidy is my sister.”
“Your grown sister, and now is not the time for this, not that it’s any of your business.”
William’s tone grew placating. “Paul, please think what you’re doing. You’re acting as if Cassidy is somehow special to you.”
“She is special! Not just to me but to everyone who knows her, except, apparently to her own brother!”
Will chose to ignore this, saying, “Paul, what if Betina should find out—”
“This has nothing to do with Betina!” Paul insisted hotly, pushing past William, his arm holding Cassidy tight to his side. Cassidy moaned and felt tears start behind her eyes.
“Think what you’re putting in jeopardy!” William called out. “She’s not worth it, Paul!”
Cassidy felt the stillness that came over Paul even before his footsteps halted. He turned to William, folding her against his chest.
“Are you the most insensitive sibling who ever lived or are you just a general idiot?”
Tears leaked from beneath Cassidy’s eyelids, the pain in her head somehow blending with the emotional pain of William’s obvious disdain. She knew with an objective part of herself that William was right, that the best thing she could do for everyone involved was simply to step away, but the throbbing in her head had increased tenfold in the past few seconds, and the only comfort the whole world seemed to offer was to be found right here in Paul’s arms.
She moaned when he stooped and swept her up against him, swiftly carrying her away. She felt the darkness and the cool night air. It seemed both to alleviate somewhat and increase the pounding in her head. The sounds of gravel crunching beneath his feet reverberated from the crown of her skull to the roots of her teeth. He put her into the front seat of his car and belted her in. The closing of the door, gentle as it was, rocked the pain from ear to ear inside her head. He got in beside her and stretched his arm out between the seats.
“You okay?”
“Umm.”
“Damn,” he said and started up the car engine. “Hang on. I’m taking you home.”
They were well on their way when he said gruffly, “Someone needs to take that brother of yours in hand.”
“Not you,” she managed, thinking of all the difficulties inherent, from Paul being William’s boss to the many ways William could make trouble for him.
Paul said nothing more, and in a thankfully short period of time, he was settling her gently onto her own sofa. Sunshine leaped up beside her, purring understandingly. Paul found aspirin and brought them with a glass of water, seeing that she swallowed two before slipping off her shoes and tucking a blanket around her. He left her with a kiss brushed across her forehead and a whispered promise to find them something to eat. Twenty minutes later the pounding inside her skull had relented sufficiently to allow her to sit up. He brought the food in on a cookie sheet, which she received on a pillow placed across her lap.
He had put together a bowl of canned vegetable soup and a small omelet with saltine crackers, a sliced apple and a wedge of dill pickle on the side. As she dived into the soup, she took time to inform him that the large, opaque, plastic container in the refrigerator contained a recently made salad and the fresh dressing was in the shaker bottle in the door. He returned to the kitchen and came back with a “tray” for himself and an extra serving of salad for her. It seemed perfectly natural to have him puttering around in her kitchen, choosing foods for the both of them.
He sat down on the sofa next to her, tossed a kiss at her temple, balanced his tray on his knees and began to eat. Having started first, she finished first. Her head had that airy feeling that comes when the blood vessels constrict in pain then dilate in its aftermath. She leaned back on the cushion and sighed in contentment.
“Feeling better?”
She smiled. “Mmm, much.”
“Good. Mind if I turn on the evening news?”
She lifted her head in surprise and looked at the digital clock on the face of the VCR atop the nineteen-inch television in the corner cupboard. Six minutes past ten o’clock! Heavens! Leaning forward, she picked up the remote control from the trunk that served as coffee table, pointed it at the television, and clicked it on. “What channel do you prefer?”
He shrugged, swallowed omelet and said, “This one’s fine.”
They settled back and watched, one or the other of them commenting on some particular bit at points. During the weather, which promised both sunshine and rain, as well as temperatures in the lower forties, Paul got up and gathered their dishes to carry them into the kitchen. When she started to rise in order to help him, he quickly disabused her of that notion. “Sit yourself down, young lady, and relax. I’m going to stash these in the dishwasher and come right back. You are not to move from this spot.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m perfectly all right now.”
“And you’re going to stay that way,” he told her.
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had coddled her. She curled up with Sunshine in her lap to watch a late-night talk show. He returned only a few minutes later, resumed his place beside her, looped an arm about her neck, and pulled her down until her head rested on his shoulder. She squirmed around until she found a comfortable place. He shifted to accommodate her, so that eventually they wound up almost sideways on the couch, her back against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, his arms curled loosely about her, Sunshine purring contentment for all of them.
As Cassidy drifted deeper into relaxation, her mind touched on the exchange between Paul and William earlier, but she pushed it away, concentrating instead on the almost unbearable sweetness of feeling cherished. Not even sleep could steal it away.
She roused sometime later, dimly aware that she was being carried. She felt the shock of cool sheets beneath her and the tug of her sweater and jeans as he eased her out of them, leaving her clad in camisole, panties, socks, and bra. Then the covers were being tugged up around her chin and smoothed. She hovered at the very brink of unconsciousness, compelled to deeper sleep and yet... Paul bent over her and lightly pressed a kiss to her lips, whispering a good-night, and suddenly she knew what held her back from complete surrender. He was leaving her, and all the comfort would go with him. She fought to lift her arms and turn. It was like moving through heavy syrup in slow motion, but she did manage to mumble, “Don’t go. Stay with me.”
It seemed that a very long time passed before he replied, “All right, for a while.”
A few moments later she sighed as he slipped into bed beside her, his arm tunneling under her neck and folding her against his chest. She was aware that he remained fully dressed, but it didn’t matter. He was here. He stayed because he cared. For her. He cared for her. Her arms naturally slid about him, and sleep crept over her, weighing her down with fluffy inertia and blankness.
She woke to sunlight, the certainty that she had overslept, and the feel of a hand, large and warm, against her bare belly. Instinctively she dealt with the hand first, easing away from it, only to become aware of a long arm draped across her body and a solid wall of muscle at her back. Paul. A slow smile stretched across her face, and her body responded in kind, languorously ridding itself of the stiffness of sleep. Paul sighed and rolled closer, his arm tightening as his hand slid lower. Cassidy gasped, sucking in her breath as his fingers slid between her legs. Paul stiffened and went very still, signaling that he was now fully awake.
Cassidy made herself relax and turn onto her side, facing him. She trembled with the effort to ignore his hand. Only when she smiled at him rather sheepishly did he remove it, sliding it up and over her hip. Pulling her closer, he pressed his forehead to hers. She lifted a hand to his cheek, feeling the roughness of his beard.
“Good morning,” he said. “How do you feel?”
“Wonderful.”
“I can attest to the accuracy of that statement,” he said sleepily, his hand roaming over her buttocks and down her leg, then upward again, urging her closer. “You’re lovely to wake up to.”
“So are you.”
He chuckled. “Somehow I doubt that, but let’s pretend for the moment that it’s true.” Rising up slightly, he rolled her onto her back and settled atop her, his upper body weight levered onto his forearms. Nothing, however, not even the layers of clothing between them, prevented her from feeling the weight of rigid male flesh nestled against the apex of her thighs and the flat of her belly. She fought the impulse to spread her legs and bring the contact to an even greater level of intimacy. Then he dropped his head and laid his mouth against hers, his tongue sliding along the seal of her lips. Moaning, she granted him entrance, feeling the plunge of his tongue all the way to the soles of her feet. Her arms came up and wound about him, her body seeming to melt beneath his, and it was as if she went a little mad, her control slipping away as instinct and desire took over.
It was not enough, suddenly. Her back arched, bringing her breasts fully against his chest, her mouth ground against his, their tongues in frantic, sensuous combat. She undulated beneath him, striving to bring every part of her into closer, deeper proximity with him. But still it was not enough. It would never be enough, because no matter how much of him she had, she would always want more. Always. The very idea frightened her suddenly, the certainty that she would forever want what she could not have.
Now as desperate to break contact as she had been a moment before to intensify it, she pressed herself into the mattress and turned her head, ending the kiss. Paul’s mouth slid across her cheek to her ear, his teeth nipping at her lobe before attaching themselves to the soft flesh of her neck. She closed her eyes as a fresh wave of desire roared through her. She opened them again—to the sight of her bedside clock. Several moments passed before her mind registered the message that her eyes were sending her, a message Paul needed to hear.
“Dear heaven!”
“Oh, yes,” Paul agreed, his breath steaming the flesh that covered her collar bone before his teeth tested it.
“Paul!”
“Hmm?”
“It’s nearly 9:00 a.m.”
“Mmm. What?”
“I said, it’s nearly—”
His head came up and pivoted to the side. “Nine!” he echoed incredulously. “Holy cow!”
Cassidy struggled briefly beneath him, saying, “I have to get up. The shop’s supposed to open at ten.”
“And I’m supposed to be in the office at eight forty-five,” he said wryly.
Cassidy grimaced. “Oops.”
He laughed. “You can say that again.” But then he sobered, his soft gray eyes boring into hers. “I desperately want to make love to you.”
“I know,” she answered, warming at the words, “but...”
He nodded, kissed her gently on the mouth and sighed. “I’d better call and let them know I’m going to be late.”
“What will you tell them?”
He smiled. “That I slept so well last night I didn’t want to leave the bed.”
“I’m glad. Thank you for staying with me.”
“My pleasure,” he whispered, and then he rolled away, tossed aside the covers and rose, fully clothed, to stand in his stocking feet beside the bed. “Do me a favor,” he said, bending over her to place a kiss between her eyes.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t get up until I’ve gone.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to think of you all day long here in this delicious bed—and because I don’t think I could resist the sight of you in those little panties and that silky top thing you’re wearing.”
Her body quickened at his words, but she pulled the covers up to her chin and slid deeper into the bed. “Okay.”
He kissed her once again, longingly, on the mouth. Then he picked up his shoes and carried them from the room. She heard the door close softly a few minutes later, and a sense of loss settled over her, forcing out a sigh. The situation was so very ironic. For the first time in her life she had spent the night with a man, and a man whom she loved without any doubt...and still she lay here a virgin. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. And so she was both.
Cassidy wouldn’t have accepted her father’s invitation to lunch had she known that her brother would be there, as well. She had neatly avoided William for several days, refusing to take his calls and surrounding herself with other people when she couldn’t avoid his presence. His irritation with her was clear from the perpetual glower that he wore on his face and the sharp edge in his voice whenever he spoke, but Cassidy found that she was uninterested in his opinion. He would never understand how she felt about Paul. How could he when she didn’t understand it herself? And he certainly did not understand how Paul could feel anything at all for her. Otherwise, he would never have said that she was unworthy of Paul’s regard, as he had essentially done the night of her headache. She couldn’t quite seem to forgive him for that. So she was not pleased when, shortly after her arrival at her father’s slightly dilapidated duplex, it became obvious that William had engineered this little family gathering.
Cassidy was leaning against the counter in her father’s kitchen, staring out the window over the sink, when William’s sensible sedan pulled into the drive behind her own little car. She knew at once that she’d been had. “That’s it,” she said, stepping back and slapping a hand against the countertop. “I’m out of here.” She grabbed her purse from the seat of a nearby bar stool and slung it over her shoulder.
“Come on, Cass,” Alvin Penno cajoled in his gravelly voice. He closed the oven door, having checked the hamburger patties spattering grease all over his broiler element, and pulled up his black leather jeans. “I know Will�
��s a trial, but he is your brother, and whatever’s wrong between you obviously needs an airing.”
Cassidy shook her head in uncharacteristic stubbornness. “I have nothing to say to William, and I don’t care to hear what he has to say to me.”
“He’s pretty adamant in this, honey,” Alvin warned her, folding his bare arms over the leather vest he wore over a bare chest. Cass noted a new tattoo beneath the motto on his upper arm that read Bald is Beautiful, a small frog with a crown perched upon his bald pate. “Besides,” Alvin pointed out, “he’s parked behind you.”
Trapped. Cassidy said a curse word she’d never before uttered aloud in her whole life. Alvin was so shocked that his hand flew to the top of his bald head, his baldness having done nothing to stop him from growing the hair below long enough to wear it pulled back into a ponytail.
The back door squeaked as it opened and William walked in. “Well,” he said, targeting Cassidy at once, “I’ve finally run you to ground.” He shook a finger at her. “Now you’re going to listen to what I have to say.”
“No, William, I’m not,” Cassidy insisted flatly. “What I choose to do with my life is none of your business!”
And the battle was joined, William declaring that her behavior was threatening his job, despite her argument that Paul would never unfairly penalize an employee. They were shouting at each other as they hadn’t done since childhood. Back then William had almost always won their clashes due to the eight years difference in their ages. But Cassidy was no longer her brother’s social and emotional inferior. She was at least as self-possessed as him and very likely more mature, which, she had to admit, wasn’t saying much. Nevertheless, she would not, could not, give him the upper hand in this. For the first time since grade school, she actually gave as good as she got from her brother. Something told her that more was at risk here than her relationship with Paul, which was temporary at best, and she doggedly refused to give ground.
Cassidy realized that William was not used to such a show of strength from his little sister. He was, in fact, quite used to bullying her with little effort. He couldn’t know what to make of the virago who met him toe-to-toe in their father’s kitchen, bellowing her lungs out in self-defense, but she didn’t care. She would not back down in this.
