by Arlene James
She was breathtaking, exquisite. And his.
He reached for her. She put her hands in his and danced at the ends of his fingertips, smiling, beguiling. Then she came into his arms and began unbuttoning his shirt with slow, studied motions. Trembling, he bent his knees slightly and swept her into his arms. She slid her arms about his neck and bent her head to nuzzle his ear, whispering, “Maybe we should go on into the bedroom.”
Flickering candles lit the way and surrounded the bed. She had exchanged the cotton sheets for creamy satin. The top sheet had been folded back to the foot of the bed. He sat her gently on the side and went down on his knees, tugging her shoes off and laying them aside, one by one. She leaned back on her hands and tossed her head, smiling as she lifted a leg. Reverently, he slipped his fingers beneath one lacy garter and slid it down her leg and over her foot, letting it fall before going back up to skim down the top of her stocking. When he reached her knee, he let his mouth follow the paths of his fingers until the stocking lay puddled on the floor and he nipped the arch of her foot with his teeth, his hands already searching for the second garter. The second stocking quickly followed the first, and then he rose, tugging her to her feet and bending his head to taste the bare skin of her shoulder while his hands followed the contours of her body to the row of hooks and eyes holding together that tantalizing black satin. When he found them, he lifted his head to watch what he was doing.
The hooks slid back, up, and out in small bunches, parting inches of fabric at a time until the stiff, boned bodice and fluttery bustle fell away, leaving her clad only in a tiny pair of black panties that made his heart skip beats and speed up. He ran trembling hands over naked skin, forgetting to breathe. He filled his hands with her breasts and closed his eyes, feeling the weight and the warmth of them transmitted to every cell in his body.
“Sweet heaven!” he gasped, looking down at her again. “You’re not just beautiful, you’re the most—”
But she was even more than that, more than he could put into words. She was incredible. She was perfection. She was everything woman and everything lover and everything innocence—and she deserved far more than he could give her. She deserved a man who wouldn’t be just first but forever. And it wasn’t him. Thanks to his own stupidity and Betina’s obsessive needs, he could not be the man Cassidy Penno deserved, and that she loved him despite that fact made the situation even worse. He could love her as no other man could, but he couldn’t give her what she deserved most, and because he couldn’t give her what she deserved, he couldn’t take what he did not deserve.
The tears caught him by surprise, spilling over his cheeks before he even knew they were there. He lifted a hand to his face and felt the roughness of his beard. He hadn’t even shaved for her. While she had been here arranging the perfect love nest, he’d been selfishly counting the seconds until he could show up and claim what she so lovingly offered, even knowing that he had nothing to offer in return. But he knew now that he loved her more than he’d realized. He loved her even more, if such a thing was possible, than he wanted her. The knowledge was shattering and somehow empowering because it gave him the strength to do what he’d never thought he could. It gave him the strength to stop.
Sighing, he closed his eyes and said, “I can’t.”
Cassidy leaned into him, confused, her slender arms wrapping around him. “Paul? Paul, what’s wrong? Did I do something—”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, no.” He put his arms around her, achingly aware of all that smooth, bare skin, a distraction, to put it mildly. He yanked his shirt free and whipped it off, settling it gently over her shoulders. Tenderly, he worked her arms into the sleeves and buttoned it up. All the while, she tried to talk to him.
“Please, tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can. Please, Paul, listen to me. I thought about this a long time. I know what I’m doing, and I think you want this, too. Don’t you? Or am I wrong?”
“You’re not wrong,” he told her finally. “I am.”
She pushed at the cuffs hanging over her hands and said, “What?”
He looked at her. She was understandably confused, adorably cute, more dear than anything or anyone he’d ever seen, and he knew that if he didn’t get her out of this candlelit bedroom right this moment he would lose what little good sense he possessed. He turned her toward the door and ushered her quickly down the hall and back into the living room, where he sank down on the sofa and put his head in his hands, sighing.
“I don’t understand,” she said, coming to sit beside him.
He smiled at that. “I know.”
“Why did you stop?”
He dropped his hands and tilted his head in order to look her in the face. “Because I love you.”
Her whole face softened, and her eyes misted, her lower lip trembling. “Oh, Paul!”
He put his arm around her, and together they leaned back on the sofa, her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, babe,” he told her softly. “I didn’t know what I was getting us into. I never dreamed... Well, let’s just say I’ve discovered that love doesn’t leave room for selfishness.”
“What selfishness? I asked you to come. I want you to—” He derailed that, knowing where it was going. “And I want to, but I can’t. It’s not enough just to be the first, Cass. I thought it would be, but it’s not. Honey, you’re the kind of woman who needs and deserves everything a man has to give—his name, his children, his forever after.” He took a deep breath, ignored the straining and thickening of his voice and made himself go on. “That’s not me. I wish it was, but it’s not. Somewhere out there is a man who’ll be your one and only, and I won’t rob you of that just to be your first, not even if it kills me.”
She sat up then and twisted around to face him, one leg curled beneath her. “Don’t cry,” she whispered, and he laughed because he hadn’t known that he was and because what else was there to do?
“I won’t if you won’t,” he said, and she wiped her face with the cuffs of his shirt.
“Why’d it have to be like this?” she asked.
He steeled himself and said, “Because I cheated us, and I didn’t even know I was doing it. I screwed it up before it even had a chance to happen.”
“I don’t care,” she told him in a trembling voice.
“I know, but I do. I care because I love you. More than I ever thought possible. So much that I’m going now before this attack of decency passes.”
“Don’t talk like that,” she said as he stood and moved to the chair to take up his jacket. “You’re not a bad person.”
He slung the jacket on over his bare back and turned up the collar. “No, but I haven’t been a good one, either, not like you.”
“Oh, Paul.”
“I have to go.”
“Don’t you want your shirt?” she asked, going up on her knees and reaching for the buttons. She was tempting him, and he loved her for it. She looked like an angel who had lost her wings. He shook his head.
“Naw, you keep it. That way I can torture myself by thinking of you in it.”
“Paul, please, please stay.”
But they both knew he couldn’t. He opened the door and looked down at her one last time. “Goodbye, Cass. And thank you.”
He made sure to lock the door before he pulled it shut behind him, just in case she didn’t remember to get up and set the dead bolt. “Ah, God,” he said, hearing her sobs. Before he could change his mind, he hurried down the walk to his car, digging for the key in his pants pocket. By the time he got the engine started and was safely away, his own tears were coming fast again, but he knew that for once he’d done the right thing for someone else at his own expense, and that someone was Cassie. No one mattered more.
He didn’t sleep. At all. Not a blink. After the first ten minutes, he didn’t even try. Instead he got up, put on a pair of warm-up bottoms and sat in his den drinking coffee, lots and lots of coffee. Around daybreak he showered and tried to eat, but
the granola he tried to force down his throat turned his stomach. He dressed and went into the office early. It was a bad, bad day for Betina to try pushing his buttons.
She did not, of course, take no for an answer. She ignored his secretary’s warning and swept straight into his office. Groomed to within an inch of her life, her blond hair twisted into a smooth, dignified chignon, she posed herself on the corner of his desk, crossed her willowy legs and gave him what passed for a smile, careful, as always, that it did not wrinkle the corners of her eyes. They were expertly made up eyes, but then her makeup consultant was a true artist.
He leaned back in his black leather executive chair and looked her over head to toe, noting the expensive, pale pink suit with its slim, above-the-knee skirt and sexy, single-button jacket worn without a blouse. Her stylish, square-toed shoes were the exact same shade as the suit. No doubt she’d had them dyed. The oversize pearls at her throat and earlobes picked up the shade and reflected it lovingly, lending a creamy tone to her skin. Pity she was a selfish, unlovable witch. Compared to Cassidy, Betina was a cold, bloodless viper, a demon in pink, as opposed to Cassidy’s angel in black satin. Just the thought of black satin would torture him forever more. And for it he could thank the smug seductress trying to flash him a look up her skirt without being too obvious about it. She made him ill—and angry, angrier than he had ever been before.
“Get out of my sight,” he said, pivoting away from her. He felt her shock. Seldom was he so blatant about his feelings, not since dear old Granddad had dropped the noose around his neck and put the end of the rope into her hand. He almost wished she’d yank and be done with it, but he reminded himself that he had responsibilities to the family and the business. Funny, they didn’t seem to mean anymore what they once had. Nothing did.
Betina got off the corner of his desk and walked around his chair to place herself right in his line of sight. He averted his eyes. “I can always call Security and have you thrown out,” he said.
He expected her to spit and scream, but instead she adopted a studied nonchalance. “I spoke to William.”
He closed his eyes, imagining what William might have told her, and made up his mind that if she said one negative word about Cassidy, he’d throw her out of the office himself—and enjoy it. But Betina was nothing if not intelligent. She apparently recognized a man who was skating on the thin edge of composure when she saw him. He knew that the dark circles beneath his eyes and the lines of strain around his mouth signaled an inner struggle of immense proportion. Of course, she couldn’t know what had happened between him and Cassidy—or what hadn’t—but she had to realize that she just might have pushed too far for once. She at least wanted to appear gracious in capitulation.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said, “and I-I’ve decided Will is right. I was foolish to turn down a part written especially with me in mind, and I want you to know...I’ll play the part.”
Paul shook his head, grimly amused that she could be moved by any inducement to put her image at such risk. William must have convinced her that she was in real danger of losing the game, after all. Ah, God, if only he could walk away from it. If it was just the job, just the business, at stake, he’d do it without a second thought or a glance back, but the family deserved consideration. They depended on him. They were totally dependent on Barclay Bakeries for income, and Barclay supported them well. Moreover, he had sworn, literally, to look after their interests. For the first time, it felt as if Hoot was right, as if Paul’s family took gross advantage of him. He reminded himself that it hadn’t felt that way before, but then everything had changed since Cassidy had come into his life. He told himself wearily that the only way to change it back again was to cut out Cass entirely—and knew he couldn’t do it. But Betina could and wouldn’t think twice about it. Perhaps it was best that way for all concerned.
“Suppose you toddle along and talk to William about it,” he said caustically. “He seems to care. I don’t. Goodbye.”
Still, she stayed. “You’re in a strange mood. Anything I can do?”
He was on his feet and backing her toward the door before he even knew that he intended to move. “Yes!” he snarled. “Stay the hell out of my way. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to think about you!”
“What about the practices?” she asked, her voice unnaturally high.
“William will fill you in. Apparently he’s good at that!” She recovered her aplomb the moment before they reached the door and walked out with her nose high and her stride regal. He closed the door and laid his head against the cool burled wood. Cassidy, oh, Cassie. Now there were no more excuses, not even to hold her one more time.
He was not so craven as to let William deliver the news. That particular punishment he reserved for himself, but he didn’t have the strength to do it in person. Instead, he called Cass on the telephone at the shop. The false brightness of her tone cut him to the quick, and in as few words as possible he explained that Betina would be playing the part of Jane in their little Barclay Bakeries history drama. The silence at the other end of the line was rife with disappointment, but eventually she seemed to find her voice and calmly told him that it was for the best. Conversely he felt a stab of disappointment at her easy acquiescence. Some part of him wished she’d fight a little harder, maybe even overcome his own best intentions. That was absurd, of course. This was best, best for Cassidy, so he simply whispered, “I’m sorry,” and hung up.
After a long day during which he accomplished nothing, he decided to skip practice and work late. Let William stand in for him. William seemed to be managing a goodly portion of his life for him, anyway. He’d just call and tell old William to manage on. But he didn’t. He sat and stared at the phone until he was quite certain that William was no longer in the building, then he got up and drove straight to the old factory.
Cassie’s car was parked in its customary spot directly undemeath the light pole. Paul told himself that he dreaded seeing her, but he knew himself for a liar the moment he set foot on the graveled parking lot. He could not wait to see her. He was starving for a mere glimpse of her. The tremulous smile she gave him as he came through the door afforded him the first moment of peace that he had felt since leaving her the night before. She had survived. She was hurting, true, but all that was Cassidy was alive and well. He might never be the same, but she would be. After all, angels were eternal.
He let his eyes feast as he walked over to join the group. Her hair was pinned up almost exactly as it had been the night before, but this time she wore a dark green turtleneck sweater belted over a bias-cut plaid wool skirt that reached almost to her booted ankles. Around her neck she wore a long necklace of large, colored wood beads. She looked fragile and dainty, despite her height, and he felt acutely the loss of the freedom to put his arms around her.
Betina, on the other hand, looked like a sleek, pitiless predator in a dark red pantsuit of body-hugging knit with a flared jacket that zipped up the front. She’d let down her hair and combed it into a smooth flip, very chic, very cutting edge. Paul entertained himself with the notion that she might slip and cut her own throat, but before he could enjoy the scenario too much, Cassidy called everyone to order, announced in a strained voice that William would be handling rehearsals from now on, and quickly departed to “other duties.” It was Tony who stepped forward, once she was out of earshot, and demanded an explanation.
“You don’t know anything about theater,” he said to William. “Why should we listen to you?”
William clearly disliked having his ability or his authority questioned. He scoffed at Tony’s concern. “We’re not exactly interpreting Shakespeare here, Abatto, and I did help write the script. Besides, if Cassidy thinks I’m capable of guiding the production, I don’t see what you have to say about it.”
“I’m not so sure Cassidy is cool with this,” Tony insisted, glaring at William. “She’s been upset all day, and then this afternoon I caug
ht her crying. Then she tells me that she’s not going to play the part of Jane, after all.”
“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Betina said smoothly, stepping forward.
William leapt to her side, announcing her as if she were royalty. “Ms. Betina Lincoln will now play the part of Jane. It was, after all, written especially for her.”
Betina smiled at that and said without a trace of self-effacement, “At first I thought the role was beyond me, but eventually I realized that it was truly in all our best interests for me to take my rightful place.”
Paul could only shake his head at that bit of sleight of hand. Tony didn’t quite buy it, either. “That doesn’t explain this morose mood of Cassidy’s. I can’t believe it’s as simple as Miss Lincoln deciding to stand in as Jane.”
“I’m not a stand-in,” Betina said crisply. “The part was written for me.”
William shot a look at Paul, who felt as though his face was set in stone. William seemed to take that for carte blanche and came to a poor decision, at Cassidy’s expense. “My sister is a very gifted individual, but her imagination sometimes runs away with her and the resultant crash with reality is always painful. She’ll be all right in a day or two. You’ll see.”
If he’d left it at that, Paul might have made it through the evening, but even as he sent the others to their places, William stepped up to Paul and sealed his own fate. “You know, I must apologize to you. I sensed some time ago that Cass had developed a crush on you—”
“A crush?” Paul echoed disbelievingly.
“I know, I know,” William went on, completely missing Paul’s meaning. “I should have spoken to you about it right away, but somehow I let myself be convinced that it was mutual, but then after that little scene backstage yesterday, I knew I had to do something—”
