by Stacy Juba
Josh latched onto the arm of his chair, knuckle whitening. "When I was fourteen, my mother and I took off. He’s dead now. That's the only reason going on the show was safe. Otherwise, I would have put her in danger."
Danger. Cassidy had grown all too familiar with that word. She scanned the horizon through the porch window. What if she had made a mistake allowing Josh to come? What if he’d been followed, as her mother feared? It was unlikely on those back roads, but nothing was impossible.
"I'll bet a lot of boys would have taken after their fathers," she said absently. "It's great you're educating others. Would you mind if we go in the house? I’m getting a little cold."
They headed into the living room, where they set up a checkerboard and flicked on the television. Cassidy and Josh sprawled on a crocheted afghan, inches from each other. Her heart rate galloped. Although her crush had waned over the past few weeks, now the familiar feelings surged over her again. Josh was smart, good-looking, and unlike Zach, who kept throwing off mixed signals, he was here.
He was also engaged, Cassidy reminded herself. She lost four games of checkers, her concentration shot full of holes like the paper targets she’d attacked on the firing range. She was just about to feign exhaustion when Josh remarked that their former cast mates, Felicia and Gabriel, were appearing on the popular talk show Midnight Mayhem with Kyle Lord in a few minutes. Curiosity won out over awkwardness and Cassidy stayed to watch.
Josh switched to the channel as the house band thundered the catchy theme music. He stretched face-down across a tasseled throw pillow. "I heard Gabriel's emceeing while Lord recovers from his triple bypass."
"I hope Gabriel isn’t as irritating as he was on SOS," Cassidy said, kneeling beside him.
Gabriel announced the first guest in the same smooth tones he’d used on SOS. A moment later, Felicia sauntered out wearing a low-cut fringed crop top and a snug white leather skirt that skidded to an abrupt halt at her thigh. Her locket shone on her neck, out of sync with her wild outfit. She embraced Gabriel a little too long.
"Now that looks like Felicia," Cassidy said. "I saw her on a leukemia telethon, and clothes actually covered her body. She even spoke eloquently."
"I didn't think it was possible for her to be eloquent," Josh replied.
They quieted down as Gabriel and Felicia settled into studio chairs before a backdrop of twinkling stars. Gabriel’s expression grew serious. "It was hard on all of us losing our friend Reggie Elliott to brutal murder. Can you tell us how that affected you?"
Felicia's eyes gleamed. The camera zoomed on her attractive face, accented with dramatic shades of makeup. "Oh, Gabe, it was horrible. Most people don't know how close Reggie and I were. It looked like we sniped at each other, but it was friendly rivalry."
"Oh, please," Cassidy said with a snort. "Reggie didn’t like her anymore than he liked me."
"Putting aside the tragedy, what did you think of Cassidy Novak lasting until the end?" Gabriel went on.
"Cassidy made a good run for it, but her mistakes cost her. Frankly, I’m glad Reggie won. I think Cassidy looked down on us, Gabe, even though we were all in the ‘same boat.’ It was okay for her to be on a reality game show, but not for the rest of us."
Cassidy considered hurling a lamp at the television. Even though she knew Felicia was spouting off nonsense because of their personality clashes, it hurt hearing herself ridiculed on national television. "I don't believe her. She’s just jealous that I lasted longer."
"Who the hell does she think she is?" Josh demanded. "She's lucky she's not here, or I'd shove her tiara down her throat."
His quick anger surprising her, Cassidy darted a glance at him. Scarlet climbed Josh's cheeks as he rolled into a sitting position. On TV, Felicia described how she would stay at her parents’ Malibu beach house through September, then jet to a series of magazine shoots in New York.
Cassidy snagged the remote and abruptly changed the channel. She didn’t care about Felicia Fowler’s itinerary.
"Don't you want to know if she makes anymore digs?" Josh asked.
"Thanks for being mad, but I've got worse problems than a spoiled airhead."
He rubbed her shoulder, working the kinks out of her tight muscles. Cassidy swallowed a gulp as his strong fingers kneaded the sides of her neck. Within seconds, currents of warmth glided through her tense upper body.
Oh, boy, did friends massage each other like this? Not in her experience. She really should establish some boundaries here, but it felt so good. Cassidy closed her eyes as he increased the pressure, tweaking away tight knots.
Just remember, he has Shannon wearing his ring in California and you have the whole Zach mess.
"I don't like seeing you hurt," Josh said, his hands traveling down to the base of her spine. "You've been through enough."
"I'm not hurt. I'm ticked off. There's a difference."
He rubbed her lower back in slow circles. "It's good to be with you again, Cass. I've missed you."
"Since when are you a massage therapist?" Cassidy half-joked.
She pried herself away from his enticing caresses, her relaxed muscles stiffening again as she left his soothing touch. No, he wasn’t like a massage therapist, she realized. They were detached professionals while he reeked of sensuality.
"You looked stressed out," Josh said, dropping his arms. "I thought I'd loosen you up."
She couldn’t afford to be loose around someone she’d once pined after. Someone who was months away from getting married. Cassidy yawned, though it was unlikely she would ever fall asleep.
"It must have worked. One more minute and I’d be snoring. Good night, Josh."
Without looking back, Cassidy fled.
Chapter Eighteen
Cassidy stared out at the pond, clasping her arms around her knees. Late afternoon sunlight dappled the glassy water into gold slivers. Clouds hung low in the sky, bruising the mountains with shadows.
Her mother had phoned with a message from Cassidy’s neighbor, Pat Jenkins. A young woman who fit Rhonda Sue’s description had been lingering in the hall outside Cassidy’s apartment. Pat threatened to call the police if the woman didn’t leave.
Josh had driven Cassidy to this secluded spot, a few miles from Rosemary and Donald's place, to calm her down. Thickets of woods surrounded them, leading to nature trails. Birds perched on a picnic table and savored the shredded remains of sandwich crust. Except for a solitary canoe in the distance, she and Josh were alone.
Cassidy couldn’t toss off the fear that someone was watching. A tremor vibrated through her. Stalkers, stalkers everywhere.
Josh crouched on the hill beside her, a Los Angeles Dodgers baseball cap tousling his hair. "That Rhonda Sue girl is just a dumb fan. She's nothing to worry about."
"I've been telling myself that for awhile," Cassidy said. "Now I don’t know. She’s one of the strangest people I’ve ever met. I doubt she could be Miles, since the initial letters were from California, but she could still be trouble."
"You've sure attracted some winners. We should put all of them on Sink or Swim. Only when they walk the plank, we'll leave them in the water."
Too distracted to respond, Cassidy plucked a blade of grass. She'd asked Detective Pierce to check out Rhonda Sue and he’d reluctantly agreed. Cassidy had a hunch her stalking problems were eating into his hours for other, more concrete, cases. She was becoming a pain, but Cassidy didn’t know how else she was supposed to behave. She didn’t want his help. She needed it.
Josh cupped her chin and tilted her face toward him. To her shock, he kissed her cheek, and then nuzzled her neck, the scent of his cologne light and masculine in the fresh mountain air. So she hadn’t been reading too much into his massage last night, and now that his intentions were out in the open, Cassidy no longer had the overwhelming urge to run away.
For a moment, she melted into his lips. While the rest of her life was uncertain, Josh was real, solid and right here before her. Yet even as her body enjoyed
the kiss, her mind shouted at her to slow down. Panting a bit, Cassidy directed a hand at his chest and restrained him a few inches.
She kept her voice steady. "Okay, Romeo, what's going on? I think we’re crossing some major lines."
"I know we never talked about it, but we almost made out on the ship. I’ve wanted you from the beginning." Josh’s eyes were bluer than the pond, drinking in her reaction. "Admit it. You felt the same way."
"Whatever feelings we had, we didn’t act on them for a good reason. You're engaged, remember?"
"Let’s not worry about that right now. You and me, we’re all that matters. Come on, I'll bet we can find someplace private down one of those trails." He pressed his lips against hers, tempting her with their passionate lock.
Oh man. Even as she returned the kiss, Cassidy’s thoughts swirled around her like an invisible chaperone. There was her chemistry with Zach, the stalker situation … she couldn’t act blindly when her emotions were muddled; she had to get the facts before making life-altering decisions.
Cassidy wriggled out of Josh’s embrace and floundered to her feet. "Hold on, we need to talk. Are you still getting married?"
Josh’s shoulders slouched as his spine curved forward. He stooped on the hill, avoiding her gaze. "Shannon has loads of money in the bank. Her mother can help me get ahead."
In the same breath, he bolted up and grabbed her wrists. "But you and I could still see each other. You know how much I travel with my job. We could meet places. No one would ever find out."
Cassidy blinked, too confused to move. In a weird way, he was offering her the perfect relationship, at least what she’d always considered the perfect relationship, one with no strings, no commitment. She would be free to accomplish her goals, yet wouldn’t suffer from the loneliness that often accompanied success.
Except there was one complication. A fiancée, soon to become a wife. Cassidy hadn’t liked Shannon, but the woman deserved a faithful husband. The more Cassidy thought about it, the more wrong this whole conversation seemed.
What Josh suggested was unethical. Nothing would coerce her into living a way she didn’t believe in, not Josh, not Miles, not her own vulnerability. Once she got home, whenever that was, Cassidy was getting her future back under control.
Cassidy shook herself free from his grip and walked a few steps. She started toward his rental Saab and spoke over her shoulder, not trusting herself to meet Josh’s eyes, or he might see the luster of tears.
"How stupid can you be to think that I’d sneak around with a married man?" Cassidy asked with strange calmness. "What type of person do you think I am?"
"I couldn't lie to you about my plans, Cass. You mean too much to me."
"Yeah, I can see that."
"Tell me that we can stay in touch," he pleaded. "Let me call you."
She halted and looked back at him. Misery had overtaken his handsome features. "I can't be friends with someone I don't respect, and who obviously doesn’t respect me. Take me home."
"Please, Cassidy-"
"Now."
They drove toward Rosemary's house in strained silence. Farmland sailed past in a broad sea of green. Cassidy buckled her fingers in her lap, grateful as the turn to the long deserted road loomed into view. She’d been disappointed all those months ago to discover that Josh was engaged, but having him as her friend had meant something.
Now she didn’t even have that.
"Are you okay?" Frowning, Josh pulled into the driveway and switched off the ignition.
"I wish you hadn't come here. You've tainted all the good memories we had."
"I made a mistake. Let me-"
"Please pack your things. Have a nice trip to divorce court, because if Shannon has any brains, I’m sure that’s where you’ll wind up." Cassidy slammed the passenger door.
He climbed out after her and blocked her path down the walkway. "Wait. If I broke up with Shannon, would it make a difference?"
"It’s too late. You’ll never know." She dodged past him into the house, leaving Josh stalled in his tracks.
Cassidy paused in the kitchen, where Rosemary was slicing chunks of watermelon into a mixing bowl at the table. Her welcoming smile froze at Cassidy's expression.
"Josh is getting ready to leave," Cassidy murmured. "I'll be upstairs. I won't be coming down."
"Is everything okay?" Rosemary asked.
Cassidy hesitated at the concern reflected in the older woman’s eyes, but she couldn’t discuss it now. Josh would be in the house any second. "I'll tell you about it after."
She trekked up to her bedroom. Ten minutes later, as Josh’s car grumbled to life outside, Cassidy leaned against the window pane and watched. Perhaps she had been too hard on him, ending things so harshly. Not that they could ever be friends again, but Cassidy might have taken their history into consideration and said a more civil goodbye.
Only she hadn’t been able to drag herself downstairs to face him. Cassidy had kissed him when she knew he was engaged. When, if Cassidy was honest with herself, she would have preferred Zach. Josh was a reminder of her weakness, her neediness.
Rosemary stepped in, bearing a plastic cup of fruit topped with melting orange sherbet. "Josh is gone."
"I know."
"He begged me to let him upstairs, but I told him you were busy. What happened, honey?"
Cassidy eased herself onto the bed and folded her knees underneath her. Red crept into her cheeks and she shot an embarrassed glance at her hostess. "He wanted to cheat on his fiancée and expected me to be a willing participant. I guess we didn't know each other as well as I thought."
Rosemary plumped beside her and draped an arm around Cassidy's waist. She stretched to set the cup on the end table. "I'm sorry he disappointed you. Not all men are like that."
"There's this newspaper photographer back home that seems different. I'm pretty sure he likes me, even though he's sent me mixed signals, but he's the type of guy that wants a commitment." Cassidy sighed, a little surprised that she was confiding so much. "At least that’s what he claims. He said he didn’t feel like starting anything when I was under stress. It could have been an excuse to let me down easy."
"What if it wasn’t? Is it a bad thing if he didn’t want to take advantage of you?"
Cassidy searched Rosemary's worried face. "I don't put a lot of stake in commitment. People take it too lightly. They think they want to be with someone, then realize they don't."
"I didn't trust it either. When Donald first asked me out, I almost said no. My high school boyfriend broke my heart, and I didn't want to start over with someone new. My mother convinced me to say yes. Thirty-eight years later, I'm thankful she did. When I think of my life without Donald or my two girls, and now my grandchildren, I can't even imagine it." Rosemary smiled, a glow alighting her peachy complexion.
"You're lucky."
"You will be, too. I know it."
"We'll see."
There was no sense dreaming about Prince Charming. Cassidy would settle for staying off the Garrett Daily News obituary page.
Chapter Nineteen
Felicia Fowler wiggled into the black dress she’d worn on her date the previous night and glared at her reflection in Gabriel’s bedroom mirror. Gabriel had brought her to a trendy seafood restaurant, taken her back to his Burbank condo and screwed her. She'd awoken a half hour ago to find him gone. No note, of course.
Served her right for sleeping late. She should have been the one to slip out.
Felicia released the clasp on her gold locket and twisted the chain to find comfort in the unevenly cut photograph pressed inside. Her high school love, Brian, grinned out at her. They had been sweethearts since sixth grade. Brian died of leukemia before they could get married. Her one-night stands would have stunned Brian, but they numbed her from memories of what might've been.
Ten more minutes, and she was out of there.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Felicia slid open the glass balcony door. She sank in
to a cushioned bamboo chair, breathing in warm air. Tall palm trees swept the smog-veiled sky. Sunlight danced over ripples in the deserted swimming pool below. Gabriel lived in a Spanish-style condo with stucco siding, archways and a low-pitched red tiled roof. Nothing like her parents' four-story beach house in the gated Malibu Colony, housing development of the rich and famous.
Felicia turned at the soft thud of the front door. Had he come back to see her after all? She hurried into the bedroom and grabbed a lipstick tube out of her leather purse. Felicia dashed on a couple dabs and fluffed out her hair. If he’d brought back a decaf latte and bagel, she just might forgive him.
Footsteps treaded down the carpeted hall.
"Gabriel?" she called.
A man stared from the bedroom doorway, black ski mask shielding his features. Felicia's legs quivered to Jell-O. She stumbled backwards. Was he a burglar? Rapist? Reggie Elliott flashed through her mind. With a renewed surge of adrenaline, she lunged toward the balcony to shout for help.
The man dove, ramming her into the terra cotta wall. Her head whacked the plaster, knocking a framed seascape to the floor. Tears washed her eyes. As if from a tunnel, she heard him run to shut the glass door and draw the blinds.
Felicia opened her mouth to scream. Nothing came out, her voice petrified in her throat. She tried again. As a shrill cry left her lips, he pinned her back, smothering the yell with his rough hand.
He dipped his head in close, the odors of sweat and stale breath souring her stomach. Restraining her with one arm, the man jerked open Gabriel's dresser drawer, wrenched out a handkerchief and stuffed it into her mouth. She gagged, the cloth mashing her tongue and digging into the corners of her lips.
His hands fastened around her neck with the pressure of a dozen bricks. Felicia curled her fingers on top of his knuckles, straining to pry them off. They wedged tighter against her throat, even as her nails clawed his skin.
Weakly, she hammered up with her knee and belted him in the groin. With a grunt, he slapped her cheek and throttled her harder. Felicia struggled to exert a breath around the soggy handkerchief, lungs burning, screaming for oxygen.
