Casson had had several relationships—all short-term, since he was determined to focus on building his business—but none of them had caused him the inner commotion he was feeling right now. He practically vibrated with the primeval impulse to gather his woman in his arms, lay her down and make her yield to him. Willingly.
But she was not his woman.
He felt a jab in his gut. He had to put a stop to this.
“I don’t know about you, but I doubt I’ll be able to fall back to sleep.” He tried to keep his gaze fixed on her eyes and not her body. “How about I make some coffee?”
“Sure,” she said lightly, letting her arms drop to her side. “I’ll just have a quick shower.”
She pivoted slightly and rushed into her room—but not before Casson had caught a glimpse of her bareness under the nightie. He let out a long, long breath and went to get dressed.
His mission was getting harder by the minute.
When Casson went downstairs, he turned on the light switch in the kitchen and put on the coffee maker. While the coffee was brewing he took Luna outside. It was still dusky, and the grass was wet. He scowled when he saw Robert’s car. Robert would no doubt be sleeping for a while yet.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Justine’s turquoise retro-style bicycle. An idea popped into his head and he grinned. In less than a minute he had the bike and Luna in Robert’s car and was on his way to giving the creep his early-morning wake-up call.
No point making Robert walk back to his place. No, he would take his car to him, and personally see Robert off his property. The bike-ride back to Justine’s would take no time at all, and Luna would enjoy the run.
* * *
Justine towel-dried her hair and went downstairs. Casson was pouring coffee into two mugs. He looked up and smiled. Justine’s pulse quickened. He looked so at home, standing behind the island...
“Let’s take our coffee into the living room,” he suggested. “We can catch the sun rise over the bay.”
Justine’s heart thrummed. The way he said it made it sound so intimate. She felt her cheeks burn as she started to follow him, and then, remembering Robert, walked tentatively toward the window and glanced out.
“He’s gone,” Casson said gruffly, “and he won’t be back. I promise you.”
Justine nodded, picked up her mug, and headed to the living room. She didn’t need the details.
She started as Luna bounded in front of her and leapt onto the couch next to Casson. Seeing that he was about to order her off, Justine quickly said, “She’s fine. She deserves special treatment after saving me last night.”
She sat down on the love seat and bit her lip, the memory of Robert’s face looming over hers making her stomach twinge.
Casson picked up his mug and strode to the fireplace. He stared at the painting while drinking his coffee. “I love this one,” he murmured. “Mirror Lake.”
“Oh? You’re familiar with Franklin Carmichael’s work?”
Casson smiled at her as if what she’d asked were amusing. “His and his buddy A. J.’s—and the rest of the Group of Seven.”
Justine’s eyes widened. “A. J. Casson,” she said slowly. “So, what is the connection between your name and his?”
“My grandparents lived on the same street as the Cassons in north Toronto. They became friends. They loved his work, and by the time they passed away, they had quite a collection. My mother inherited it. She loved the Group of Seven. Casson and Carmichael were her favorites. And I inherited everything when she died.”
Something flickered in his eyes and his brows furrowed. Justine wondered if it was sadness at his mother’s passing, but she didn’t have the courage to ask.
“Which is why,” he said lightly, “she named me and my brother after them.”
“Casson and Carmichael?”
“Yes and no. Casson and Franklin.” He set down his mug on the mantel. He turned away to face the painting squarely. “Franklin was my little brother.”
Justine caught the slight waver in Casson’s voice. Was, he’d said. She felt her heart sinking.
“My father bought a limited edition print of Mirror Lake for my mom when Franklin was born. After he died they donated it to the Hospital for Sick Children in Toronto.”
CHAPTER NINE
CASSON TOOK A deep breath and turned to face Justine. She had a stricken look, and her eyes had misted.
“I’m sorry,” he said, returning to sit at one corner of the couch—the corner nearest the love seat where Justine was sitting. “It wasn’t my intention to bring up my past.” He set down his mug and glanced back at the painting. “It’s just that that particular painting brings back so many memories.”
And pain.
“Please, don’t apologize,” Justine said, her voice husky. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I—I can’t even imagine...”
Casson felt a warm rush shoot through him as he met Justine’s gaze. Her blue-gray eyes had cleared and were as luminous as the lake in the painting. He didn’t make a habit of bringing up the death of his brother, but something in her expression made him willing to talk about it.
“It happened a long time ago,” he said, patting Luna absentmindedly. “I was ten. Frankie was seven.” He paused, his mind racing back to his childhood. “They found out he had a rare form of leukemia when he was six. He was rushed to SickKids and they started treatment immediately. Mom stayed with him there, and Dad stayed home with me.”
Casson looked out beyond the bay window. The sky was beginning to lighten, with intersecting bands of pink and pale blue. His stomach contracted at the memories of that year: his father becoming increasingly moody and agitated; the empty house when he got home from school; no welcoming hug and snacks from his mother; no little brother to play hockey or baseball with; his bad dreams and the nagging worry that Franklin would die...
“That must have been so tough...”
Casson’s gaze shifted back to Justine. He breathed deeply. “What was really tough was visiting him at SickKids. Seeing him with no hair, covered with bruises. Seeing him attached to tubes and hooked up to machines.” His jaw clenched. “He was so small.” Casson shook his head and averted his gaze. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to put a damper on things...”
“No worries,” Justine said, placing a hand on his arm.
His head jerked at the unexpected touch and his heart did a flip at the genuine caring in her voice. And in her gaze. She looked so sweet and natural, with her hair in that ponytail. Cheeks that looked as soft and rosy as a peach. Eyes that he could swim in.
He found himself drawing closer. She blinked but didn’t move away.
He wanted nothing more than to kiss her. And, he could be wrong, but he thought she looked like she wouldn’t have a problem with it. But he had a feeling that kissing Justine Winter now would not be wise. He had tasted those lips before, and he knew that once their lips touched it would be sheer torture to break away.
“I have to go,” he murmured, looking deep into her eyes.
He wished he didn’t, but he had a few things to do before his guests arrived. He saw the warmth in her eyes fading, and she withdrew her hand from his arm. He stood up and Luna, who had fallen asleep, stirred and jumped off the couch. Casson went back into the kitchen to get his hoodie and his keys, and then, nodding to Justine, headed for the door.
“Casson...”
He stopped and turned around. She was steps away, the fingers of both hands tucked into the front pockets of her Capri pants. “Thank you for...for staying the night.”
He smiled. “My pleasure.”
He opened the door and Luna bounded off.
* * *
Justine watched Casson and Luna get into Casson’s truck, then returned to the kitchen, her thoughts turning to Robert. She had been such a bleeding heart, letting him in. But he had looke
d so tormented...and his apology had seemed genuine.
It was now obvious that in the time since she had resigned Robert had come apart. She had never known him to drink to excess, but last night he had revealed a different side to him. His alcohol-tinged breath, his unrelenting hold on her... She felt a shudder go through her again at the thought of what might have happened.
His divorce must have been harder for him to deal with than she had realized. Perhaps losing his wife and trying to adjust to all the changes afterward had been too much, inducing him to seek solace in the bottle.
Justine sighed. Robert was a fine lawyer, but even the finest lawyers were not immune to emotional collapse.
She inhaled and exhaled deeply. Could she believe he meant what he had said? He would leave and never come back? Justine had caught so many emotions in that look he’d given her at the door: regret, shame, embarrassment, despair. And fear. Most likely fear that Casson would press charges. Which meant that Robert wasn’t so far gone that he no longer cared about his work, his livelihood.
Maybe what had happened last night would be his wake-up call and he’d get help before his life spun completely out of control.
Justine bit on her lower lip. Countless times after she had resigned she’d wished she had explained to Robert how devastated she had felt at his infidelity. Betrayed. Used. How she had cried herself to sleep for days. How she’d half hoped he’d come after her and beg for forgiveness. And how, in her darkest moments, she’d thought that when he did she’d forgive him and they would start fresh...
But a month had passed, and then two more after her return to Winter’s Haven, and Robert had never once attempted to call, let alone ask for forgiveness.
Seeing him last night had been her wake-up call, and she realized that deep down she had never known the true Robert. How could she ever put her trust in him again? No, she had no illusions about starting over with him, or of him being any part of her ‘happy-ever-after.’ And after the merry-go-round of emotions she had been through she wasn’t ready to trust anyone else...
Justine started as she heard a knock on the door. Her stomach gave a lurch, and then she saw that it was Casson. Relieved, she opened the door.
“Luna sent me back,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “She’d like you to join us.”
Her eyebrows lifted and she just blinked at him wordlessly.
“I need to drive to Huntsville to pick up a couple of things. Why don’t you join me? Us. Luna says she’s getting bored with my company. And with Spanish guitar music,” he added with a deep chuckle. “Besides...you might just discover I’m not the man you think I am.”
Justine’s pulse had quickened at Casson’s very first words. She was tempted to accept his offer, to let a fresh country drive distract her from what had happened with Robert, but... But was it wise to spend time with Casson, given the reason why he was here at Winter’s Haven in the first place?
And given her undeniable attraction to him?
Luna barked from the open window and she couldn’t help her mouth quirking into a smile.
Although she was well aware that her heart and mind were battling over her decision, she threw caution to the wind. “Tell Luna I’m in,” she said, wondering why she sounded so breathless. “I’ll just grab my handbag.”
* * *
Casson had his window partially rolled down. Every once in a while he snuck a glance in Justine’s direction. Luna had graciously given up her spot for her and was now in the back seat, head uplifted to enjoy the breeze. Justine alternated between looking out at the scenery and resting back against the leather headrest, her eyes closed and her lips curved in a relaxed smile.
His intuition had been right. She needed to get away from Winter’s Haven—even if only for a few hours.
He was all too aware of her proximity: the curve of her peachy cheekbones tapering to her glossy lips, her fitted pink T-shirt rising and falling with her every breath, and her shapely legs so tantalizingly close to his own that every time he manipulated the stick-shift his hand came close to skimming her thigh. He didn’t know what was louder: the thrum of the engine or the thrum in his chest.
Casson had to force himself to concentrate on the road several times, and after a stretch on the main highway southbound to Toronto, took Exit Ramp 213 toward Highway 141 to Huntsville. He felt a sense of contentedness with Justine sitting so close to him, even without music or conversation.
This highway had far less traffic, and Casson maneuvered the truck deftly through the winding turns and up and down the hillsides.
“I’ll get us some breakfast when we get to my place.”
“Your place?” Justine turned her head sharply to stare at him.
“We won’t be long,” he said casually. “I just have to pick up a couple of things.”
He turned on a radio channel of classic rock tunes.
“Are you okay with this?”
At her nod, he cranked it up a bit and, grinning, pressed on the gas pedal.
CHAPTER TEN
JUSTINE’S PULSE POUNDED along with the bass of the stereo. She had enjoyed the quiet, but now welcomed the distraction of music and the kind of songs that she would ordinarily sing to while driving. Her feet and fingers tapped along automatically, and she had to consciously restrain herself from swaying to the music.
She stole a glance at him. The sun beaming down through the windshield and into his truck highlighted the soft golden-brown fuzz on Casson’s forearms. His fingers tapped a beat on the steering wheel, and as the muscles in his arms flexed Justine’s pulse quickened at the memory of those strong hands and arms carrying her to bed...
Justine was familiar with this route from when she had business in Huntsville, and always loved the views of the myriad sparkling lakes in the Muskokas, but somehow on this trip she barely noticed Lake Rosseau, Horseshoe Lake and Skeleton Lake, among others, and was surprised when Casson turned off the radio to announce that they were coming to Fairy Lake.
Soon Casson was driving through a winding stretch of woodland, with pinpoints of light sparkling through crowns of maple, birch, and pine. Eventually he turned into a long, paved driveway that she thought would never end. But when it finally did Justine couldn’t help letting out a gasp. The house—no, the estate—was massive, with four dormer windows on the upper level, a wrap-around deck that seemed to equal the circumference of a football field, a four-car garage, and a view that could only be described as heaven, with Fairy Lake a brilliant blue reflecting millions of sun specks.
Justine was still gawking when Casson held the door open for her, and she climbed out, with Luna bounding after her. Two vehicles were sparkling in the sun: the silver-green Mustang convertible she had first seen Casson drive, and a heart-stopping red Ferrari Testarossa.
So Casson Forrester liked his toys. And flaunting his success... But did anyone really need four vehicles? She wondered what luxury model was behind the fourth door...
“Welcome to my place,” he said.
Justine’s eyes widened as she entered the marble foyer that was connected to a massive living area with gleaming maple hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows. The Muskoka stone fireplace was the focal point, around which several luxurious leather couches were arranged. Hanging on the wall above the polished mantel were two paintings, and as Justine approached she saw that she had guessed correctly: one was a Casson and the other a Carmichael. Both depicted stunning Georgian Bay views. On the mantel itself there was a small baseball cap and a miniature red racing car.
So he was sentimental, too.
“Things from your childhood that you couldn’t bear to part with?” she said casually.
She turned to see something flicker across Casson’s face.
He stared at her wordlessly for a moment. “Those belonged to Franklin,” he said finally, his voice breaking at the end.
&nbs
p; He picked up the car and Justine bit her lip as she watched him.
“I came back to get his cap; I always take it with me when I return to Georgian Bay—especially when I go fishing... As for the car...” He picked it up and made the wheels spin. “Frankie loved his toy cars, and this was his favorite. Said he was going to get one when he grew up.” His jaw muscles flicked. “Well, I got one for him...”
Justine felt something deflate inside her and her heart felt heavy. He hadn’t bought the Ferrari as a status symbol, but as a way of honoring his brother’s dream. Guilt washed over her. She wanted to apologize to Casson for being so judgmental, and then she remembered she hadn’t voiced her feelings about him flaunting his success.
She gulped. Maybe she shouldn’t let her feelings about Robert cloud her judgment about Casson. Maybe she should stop lumping them into the same box...
“Okay...” Casson pressed his lips together. “Let’s lighten things up. How about I make you a light and fluffy omelet?”
His mouth curved into a smile and he motioned for her to continue into the kitchen at the other end of the room.
Justine nodded, and was instantly wowed by the chef’s kitchen with its stunning curved granite island the color of sapphire, plush stools, and at least double the amount of cupboards she had, with a sturdy harvest table in the dining area that she was sure could comfortably sit twenty.
She sat on a stool and watched Casson in T-shirt and jeans, the muscles in his arms flexing with his every movement. Her heartbeat did an erratic dance...
Had he just said something to her? She stared at him blankly.
His mouth quirked, an eyebrow lifted, and he waved the spatula in his hand. “Wanna get the toast?”
“Sure.”
Avoiding his gaze, she slid off the stool and put the toast on. He must lift weights, she thought, edging a glance at his arms as he flipped the omelets. Or else he regularly lifts two-by-fours at his hardware stores.
The sudden image of him wearing nothing but jeans and steel-toed boots, pumping a stack of wood, made her insides blaze.
Swept Away by the Enigmatic Tycoon Page 8
