by Lori Wilde
After the briefing was finished, he dragged himself over to his desk. He was bruised and battered and bleary-eyed from his wild weekend but the crazy thing was, he’d never felt more alive.
He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Thirty-six hours—give or take a few—chained to Cass’s lovely wrist had changed his life in unimaginable ways.
Whenever he was around her Sam saw life through her eyes. It looked fun and fresh, exciting and new. Around her, he was more alive than he’d ever been, more involved, more his true self.
And, he had absolutely no right to feel this way about her. None at all. But feel it he did.
He’d lied to Cass. Granted, it was in the course of doing his job, but he didn’t feel any better about the deception. He’d behaved unprofessionally and to top it all off he wasn’t any closer to knowing whether she was a thief or not than he’d been before the weekend started.
His heart told him she wasn’t guilty. Weston would say, “Heart, hell—it’s your gonads, boy.”
But Sam was a trained police detective. You followed the evidence. Once in a while you might pay attention to your gut, but only as far as it was reasonable under the law. What you could never, ever do in the field was follow your heart.
Or for that matter, your gonads.
Your heart and your gonads would trip you up every damned time.
Stop thinking about Cass. Get to work.
But there was no escaping her. She was part of his investigation. Intricately entwined in his case.
And his mind.
Whenever he breathed, he smelled her perfume, vanilla as candy-floss on the upper layer but with a rich, sophisticated note of sassy, foreign spice underneath that drilled a hole of longing straight through his brain the minute he smelled her.
Whenever he shuttered his eyes closed, he saw her movements projected like a movie picture against the screen of his lids, lithe as a dove feather floating down from the sky, but with a steely, determined undercurrent to her walk that tweaked his stomach with an endless need to watch her sway.
Whenever he ran his tongue over his lips he tasted her kicky flavor bursting delightfully in his mouth, tangy as jalapeño salsa but with the satisfying buttery softness of fresh baked bread stroking childhood memories of warmth and comfort and home.
Whenever he pressed his palms together, he felt her smooth skin beneath his fingertips until his entire body pulsed.
Whenever he tilted his head, he heard her animated voice filled with details and humor echoing in his ears like fairy footsteps but with the dusky resonance of midnight moans raising the hairs on his forearms and drenching his collar with sweat.
He was a man consumed.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
He pulled his palms down the length of his face. How had he let this happen?
Better question, what was he going to do about it?
Nothing. He wasn’t going to do a damn thing. He wasn’t going to call her. He wasn’t going to drop by her apartment and see her. He wasn’t going to ask Bunnie about her.
He was going to stick to the facts and keep his emotions completely out of the fray because that’s what good cops did. Sam was a master at subjugating his needs for the good of the case. It gave him a sense of inner well being, a comfort zone he associated with autonomy and freedom.
At least nothing had gone missing from Bunnie’s house. Some small consolation. He clung to that tenuous life preserver, made it more monumental than it was. He’d set up a sting and he hadn’t caught Cass. But was that because his methodology was flawed? Or because she was sharp enough to recognize a trap when she saw one?
What if he could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt Cass was not the Blueblood Burglar?
Only way to do that was catch the real one.
And then?
Sam shook his head. Until this was settled, he wasn’t pinning his hopes on the future.
His extension rang and he snagged the receiver, grateful for the distraction. “Detective Mason.”
“Sam, this is Bunnie Bernaldo.”
“What’s up?”
“I was mistaken.”
“What do you mean, mistaken?” Sam inhaled sharply.
“The jade stone. From the bronze Buddha in my foyer. It’s gone.”
“SOMEONE GOT LAID THIS WEEKEND,” Cass’s best friend Marissa teased her over an early breakfast at Havana Eva de Cuba, one of Marissa’s favorite hangouts just a few blocks from her apartment.
“How did you guess?” Cass asked.
“The news had to be juicy for you to insist I meet you at this ungodly hour of the morning.” Even at 6:00 a.m. with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and no makeup on Marissa looked stunning. Cass envied her friend’s exotic ethnic beauty.
“I know it’s early,” Cass apologized. “But it’s the only time that would fit into both our schedules. Thanks for meeting me. I had to talk to someone about this and Morgan would make too big a deal of it.”
“Lay it on me. I’ll give you my honest opinion.”
“That’s what I love about you, You never mince words.”
Marissa stacked her hands on top of the table and leaned forward. “So tell all about Bunnie’s party.”
Leaving out only the most intimate details, Cass related what had happened over the weekend. When she’d finished, she bravely met Marissa’s eyes and told her the truth. “Mari, I’m scared.”
“Scared?” Marissa looked surprised. “What’s there to be scared of? You used protection, didn’t you?”
Cass waved a hand. “Don’t be so literal. That’s not what I’m scared of.”
“So you’re going to make me drag it out of you?”
“I like him.”
“And that’s a problem because…?”
“I like him too much.”
Marissa had raised a glass of water to her lips and stopped in mid-sip, sputtering as she swallowed the wrong way. She set the water glass down and pounded against her upper chest with the flat of her palm.
“Are you all right?” Cass asked, anxiously clasping her napkin, prepared to run for help if her friend needed it.
“Fine,” Marissa said, her eyes watering as her coughing fit passed. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Depends on what you think I’m saying.”
“Are you falling in love with Sam?”
“Don’t be absurd. I’ve only known him a little over a week. I’m not falling in love with him.”
“But by all accounts, it’s been a very intense week. Falling from a ledge together, almost getting killed by a lightning-felled tree. Being handcuffed to a person for thirty-six hours would take its toll on anyone’s defenses.”
“There’s no toll. No toll is being taken.”
“Oh, my God,” Marissa exclaimed, and slapped a hand over her mouth to hide a grin. “You are falling in love with him.”
“Shh. I am not.” Cass was getting irritated. “And please stop saying that.”
“Cass and Sam sitting in…”
“Don’t you dare.” Cass pointed a finger. “I mean it.”
“What’s wrong with falling in love?”
“You know me. I’m footloose and fancy free.”
Marissa shrugged. “People change.”
“Exactly. For instance you could change your modus operandi of picking arrogant jerks and go for a sweetie like your buddy Jamie.”
Marissa glared. “Point taken. Okay. You’re not falling in love with Sam. It’s just an exceptionally lusty affair. Screw your brains out. Have a great time.”
“Thank you. That’s all I wanted you to say.”
“What are friends for,” Marissa asked, one eyebrow cocked, “if not to tell us what we want to hear?”
FOLLOWING HER BREAKFAST with Marissa, Cass found herself roaming the streets of New York. She didn’t have to be at work until nine and she had nothing else to do but walk and think.
She wasn’t falling in love with Sam. Her friend was completely
off base. She liked Sam. She respected him. She appreciated the way he’d taken care of her in the wilderness. That’s what she was feeling—admiration, respect and gratitude.
Not love. Certainly not love. Never love.
Never love?
It sounded so desolate. Did she honestly truly never want to fall head over heels in love? Cass bit her bottom lip and narrowly missed getting clipped by a bike messenger as she crossed Broadway, though she barely noticed.
Where had she gotten the idea that love was a bad thing? Her parents had a great marriage and even though Morgan and Adam were going through a rough patch right now, Cass felt certain they loved each other and would eventually work things out.
She had no cheating bastard boyfriends in her past who’d used her and broken her heart. In fact, if anything, she was the heartbreaker. Not that she’d ever led a guy on. She’d never pretended to be something she wasn’t. Even as a child, when her other friends planned for their wedding day, Cass found herself fascinated by stories of runaway brides.
The happily-ever-after chicks were boring. You got married and your adventure was over. What tugged at her interest were those women who turned away from the traditional path and embraced a life of numerous possibilities. Katherine Hepburn and Margaret Mead and Coco Chanel. You couldn’t do that if you promised forever and ever and ever to one guy.
She tried to analyze it rationally. Deep down, what did she really want out of life?
Well, what anyone else wanted, to be happy, satisfied, fulfilled. That wasn’t so strange. How had it translated into a fear of a committed, loving relationship?
Maybe it had something to do with Nikki, with her guilt over what had happened with her friend, and the realization that she wasn’t tough enough to hang in there when things went bad.
She wandered past an elementary school and an old childhood memory floated to mind.
Her parents had taken her to a fall carnival at Morgan’s school. The air had been crisp, the leaves turning colors, the afternoon filled with limitless possibilities and fun. She’d gone on rides and played games and watched Morgan garner theatrical kudos in the school play.
And then she’d won a cake on the cakewalk.
She could still feel the excitement she’d experienced as that lucky seven-year-old. The lady coordinating the cakewalk had escorted her to the table laden with cakes.
“Pick any cake you like,” the lady had said, “but you can only have one.”
Cass had stared wide-eyed.
They were all so beautiful, so incredibly crafted. There was a Barbie cake and a Hello Kitty cake and a Smiley face cake. There were cakes decorated with M&M’s and licorice whips and malted milk balls. There were chocolate cakes and strawberry cakes and banana cakes. There were cakes with cream cheese frosting and cakes with butter cream frosting and cakes iced with caramel and hot fudge.
Eeeny, meeny, miney, moe.
She reached for the pretty pink Barbie cake, but stopped.
“What flavor is it inside?” she’d asked the lady.
The lady looked at a printed card in front of the Barbie cake. “Yellow cake.”
Cass had made a face. She liked chocolate best. She backed up and went for a triple layer chocolate cake, but it didn’t have M&M’s on it. She pointed to the M&M’s cake, but when the lady picked it up, she shook her head.
Why couldn’t there be a chocolate Barbie cake with M&M’s sprinkled on top of it?
“Pick one,” the coordinator insisted. “Just pick one, already. It’s not that hard to do.”
She’d started crying.
“Don’t cry. No crying, you won. Just pick a cake.”
But she couldn’t.
Cass had turned and run away. Run away without her cake because she simply could not choose just one.
The memory took her breath. Was that what she was doing with men? Running away from commitment because she was afraid of making a mistake? But in her running, she was missing out on the glorious taste of cake.
What was she so afraid of?
Honestly?
She was afraid of losing her freedom, of losing her essential self in the shadow of a man. But in her fear was she also surrendering a great deal of potential joy?
Was Marissa right? Could people really change? Could she become a person who could eat Barbie cake every day for the rest of her life and love it?
Dazed, Cass stopped walking. She looked around to see where she was and was stunned to learn she was standing in front of the 39th Precinct.
Had this been her destination all along?
She wasn’t quite ready to eat cake, but maybe she was ready to think about someday cutting herself a slice to see how it tasted.
But not today.
She turned to go and in her haste to get as far away from this particular piece of cake as possible, she smacked into a man hurrying down the steps.
“Oops,” she said.
“Sorry.” He reached out a hand to steady her.
The sound of his voice squeezed her stomach. Good grief, it was Sam. What were the odds that she’d run into him?
Well, considering she was standing in front of his place of business, probably not all that astronomical.
“Cass? What are you doing here? Did you come to see me?”
“No, oh no. I was just passing by,” she said, knowing he did not believe her. She couldn’t blame him. She did not believe herself.
His posture was stiff, unwelcoming. His face expressionless. Had things changed since yesterday afternoon when he’d kissed her after dropping her off at her apartment?
“Okay,” she admitted. “That’s a lie. I came by to see if maybe you wanted to grab some dinner tonight, my treat.”
“I can’t.”
“Short notice, fair enough. How about tomorrow?” Was she really saying this? Cass wished for her Hermès so she could gag herself and execute the prattling.
A pained expression crossed his face and before he said the words she knew he was going to blow her off. Knew it because she’d used the same look on many a man, but none of them had ever used it on her. She’d never given them the chance.
“Look, Cass. Things got out of hand this weekend,” he said. “We did things we shouldn’t have done. Don’t get me wrong, it was great. Way better than great, even, it’s just that…”
She didn’t let him finish, couldn’t stand to hear him finish. She raised her palms and nodded her head. “Right, right. I understand. Not a problem. Don’t think twice about it. Good times had by all. Hope you break the Stanhope case. See ya.”
Then before the rock in her throat turned to tears, she spun on her heels and sprinted away from that triple layer chocolate, M&M’s-sprinkled Barbie cake as fast as her feet would carry her.
IT WAS RAINING IN THE EVENING following his encounter with Cass on the precinct steps. Sam didn’t go home. The thought of an empty house depressed him. Instead, he decided to drop by the rehab hospital and see his former partner, Ron Barnaby.
Sam had been thinking about Cass all day, knowing he’d handled the situation badly, wanting to call her but reasoning that it was better that he kept his distance. Especially after finding out the jade stone, valued at eighty thousand dollars, was missing from Bunnie Bernaldo’s Buddha.
Every cell in his body wanted to deny the truth, but the noose kept getting tighter. He’d gone to Southampton, dusted the Buddha for prints and discovered a dozen different fingerprints on the statue, including Cass’s. The more he investigated, the more she looked like the Blueblood Burglar.
The hospital looked the same as it had twenty years earlier; tall, broad, brown brick building hulking imposingly in the rain. Inside, the hallways still smelled the same; citrus scented antiseptic, bad cafeteria food and underneath something darker. The bitter odor of tragedy.
His shoulder muscles bunched under the weight of his coat and in an instant he was transported back in time. A gangly kid, pacing the hallways while his parents waited at his sister�
��s bedside, not knowing whether she was going to live or not.
He hated hospitals and the ugly memories that came with them. It was the reason he hadn’t already been to see Ron.
Sam wandered the corridor and passed the room where Janie had once been a patient. She was fine now. She’d learned to live with her disability. She married a great guy and had bravely moved away from her family to Madison, Wisconsin, to be with him because she loved Peter more than life itself. And Peter’s family had embraced her, welcoming her with open arms. They’d never treated her as if she had a handicap. Sam admired his sister’s courage and he was happy she’d found her place in the world.
Suddenly, he had the eeriest sensation that someone was staring at him. He turned around but saw no one except for nurses scuttling to and fro on their mercy missions.
A few minutes later, he found Ron’s room. He was heartened to see his buddy looking well, even though he was still having trouble with his speech. Ron’s wife was there, as were his two kids, so Sam only stayed a few minutes and he talked about work. He could tell from the sparkle in Ron’s eyes he was happy to see him, and when he left the room, Sam felt better than he had all day.
He stopped a nurse in the hallway and asked her who he should speak to about making a donation. She directed him to the public relations office and he immediately thought of Cass and his case.
Instead of taking the crowded elevator, he headed for the stairwell. He heard footsteps behind him, but initially thought nothing of it. Visiting hours at the hospital, there were a lot of people around. His mind was still on Cass.
His nose itched. The stairwell smelled like wet cardboard and pepperoni. A pizza delivery guy, carrying boxes wet from the rain was going up as Sam was coming down.
Sam stepped aside on the landing to let the pizza guy pass on through the door to the fifth floor. When Sam stopped, he noticed that the footsteps behind him stopped too.
Strange.
Turning, he then edged quietly forward on the balls of his feet back up the stairs. His head rounded the corner of the bottom of the steps that he had just descended and he spied a pair of men’s black highly polished patent leather shoes.
