“No. If you will recall, I invited you out to dinner. I never mentioned downtown.” Clayton stared straight ahead, eyes on the road.
The Porsche headed east, out of town.
“Are you driving to an isolated country road, and then dumping my dead body in an out-of-the-way spot in the bush where it will never be found?” asked Cassidy, only half joking. After all, she wasn’t his most favorite person on earth.
“A few months ago, I would have been tempted, but you’re quite safe in my company tonight.” Clayton glanced at her, reached for her hand, and squeezed it gently. In a second, he returned his attention to his driving, with both hands on the wheel.
“Then where are you taking me?” Cassidy heard the annoyance in her voice. She hated not being in control of every situation. Especially since learning the hard way what could happen when someone else, more specifically her father, controlled her life. Call it gun-shy or cynical or whatever, Cassidy needed to hold her cards close to the vest from now on.
“I’m taking you to dinner, as promised. Now, a little patience please. Sit back in your seat, relax and enjoy the northern wilderness scenery.”
The Porsche continued east on the main route, and then turned onto a gravel road. Cassidy’s hands lay clasped in her lap, white-knuckled and sweating slightly.
“Almost there,” whispered Clayton as he slowed for a curve.
“Can’t wait,” muttered Cassidy, visions of her dead body, barely covered in her blood-soaked and torn little black dress, lying beside the road. Vera Wang never envisioned her lovely creation’s life ending in such a gruesome death. And then she smiled. Okay, you’ve been watching too many Criminal Minds episodes on TV, she thought.
“Here we are,” declared Clayton, pulling onto a paved driveway fronting a three car garage.
Cassidy gasped. All thoughts concerning television murders and mayhem, and her own demise evaporated from her mind.
“Where…are…we?”
Chapter 10
“We’re at my home. I’m house-sitting for a friend who moved back to Texas a few years ago.” Clayton leapt out of the Porsche, strode around the front of the car, opened Cassidy’s door and offered her a hand out.
Cassidy stared open-mouthed at the grand home. The stained exterior of the executive log house shone in the early evening light. Five enormous picture windows covered the front side, and two beautiful brass sconces hung on either side of the double front doors.
“This house is probably 15,000 square feet. And you live here by yourself?”
“Actually, it’s only 12,000 square feet. But I make do.” Clayton chuckled, and she playfully swatted his arm.
Together, they climbed the three wide wooden steps leading to the wrap-around deck which overlooked a well-manicured lawn sloping toward a small creek. Being early July, several flowerbeds overflowed with colorful perennials.
“This view is wonderful,” exclaimed Cassidy, trailing her fingers along the top of the railing.
Three sets of loungers and several chairs and patio tables huddled in scattered groupings along the deck. And a variety of annuals in sturdy round tubs and square planters perfumed the still evening air.
Clayton unlocked the front door and punched a five-digit code into the security box.
Cassidy stepped into the elegant foyer and moved farther along the slate-tiled entryway into the living room. Her eyes automatically rose to the vaulted ceilings. Comfortable leather sofas, upholstered chairs, and cherry wood coffee and end tables covered the thick mushroom-toned wool carpet. One wall housed a sound system, big-screen TV set, and assorted gaming systems. Decorative mirrors and exquisite paintings hung on the walls. Surprisingly for a bachelor’s digs, the furniture shone without a speck of dust evident.
“Do you spend all your spare time cleaning?” blurted Cassidy.
“My housekeeper comes in four days a week to clean, cook, do laundry, tend the gardens, and grocery shop.” Clayton smiled. “Would you appreciate the grand tour?”
“Of course.” Cassidy set her purse on the entryway table.
“Follow me.” Clayton led the way.
The modern kitchen boasted top-of-the-line appliances and custom cabinetry. The room could easily accommodate a dozen chefs preparing a 10-course meal. Cassidy’s fingers trailed along the marble countertop. The commercial-sized walk-in refrigerator surprised her the most. She might be tempted to learn to cook if she owned this kitchen, she thought. She wondered if Clayton cooked, but she held her tongue.
“Lots more to see.” Clayton grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the kitchen.
They toured everywhere, even the main floor laundry facilities, closets and storage spaces. She loved the rustic den with its comfortable-looking sofas and rocking chairs upholstered in sturdy, plaid materials. The wall of floor-to-ceiling sage green bookcases bordered on overflowing. Clayton obviously loved to read, she thought. The corner office nook housed an antique roll-top desk and two black file cabinets. The wood-burning stone-faced fireplace created a delightful image in her mind of sitting wrapped in a quilt by a blazing fire on a blustery winter day sipping hot cocoa and reading a page-turner romance novel.
Dream on, Cassidy.
“This is my favorite room,” said Clayton, opening the double glass doors that led to the Olympic-sized indoor pool with hot tub and sauna. Towering artificial palm trees and assorted silk plants decorated the pool area. A dozen enormous overhead windows heated the pool by day, raising the water temperature while conserving energy. If she squinted, she could imagine herself on a tropical beach where the sun shone and a warm breeze dried her skin after she raced out of the ocean.
You’re dreaming again, she silently warned herself.
“Who owns this place, Clayton? I can’t imagine the cost to build this beauty.” Cassidy shook her head.
“Texas oil mogul. Retired a couple years back, but he refused to sell. Old Ben flies up here for hunting season every autumn with three of his buddies.” Clayton guided her toward the staircase leading to the second floor.
Upstairs, Clayton showed her five bedrooms decorated with simple wooden beds and chests, colorful quilts, and old-fashioned rag rugs on the wood plank floors. She admired the three guest bathrooms, the enormous linen closet, and the hallway nook featuring several bookcases filled with more reading materials and two cozy upholstered sofas to snuggle up in.
“Dinner should be ready now. Let me show you the dining room.” Clayton led her down a back stairway to the formal dining room.
“Something smells delicious.” Cassidy inhaled the intoxicating aroma wafting through the air from the kitchen.
Her host seated her on one of the twelve high-backed chairs at the far end of the table covered with a lacy white linen tablecloth. Cassidy leaned in and inhaled the colorful flower centerpiece. Rose-patterned china, sparkling crystal, and antique silverware occupied two place settings.
“I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
While she waited for his return, she peeked under the corner of the table cloth and admired the antique cherry wood table. What a beauty! Whoever this oil mogul is, he’d spared no expense when decorating his home.
Clayton returned with a salad in a crystal bowl and dashed out to the kitchen again.
She popped out of her chair for a closer inspection of the painting on the far wall. She almost fainted. “Are you kidding me?” she whispered aloud. She slumped into her chair; the painting was an original worth at least a million dollars.
Clayton soon returned with a platter heaped with roast beef in wine sauce surrounded by oven-roasted root vegetables. He’d tucked a pepper mill under his arm.
“Bon appetit, ma cherie,” he seated himself beside her at the head of the table.
“Thank you. Everything smells divine.” Cassidy unfolded her white linen napkin and then settled it on her lap. “Do you realize that’s an original on the wall behind you?”
“Do you think it’s an origina
l?” Clayton looked skeptical.
“It’s an original all right.” Cassidy leaned forward. Her mother collected antiques and paintings all her life, and she’d taught Cassidy everything she knew. “And this antique cherry wood table is worth a fortune.”
“Family heirloom,” muttered Clayton.
“What?” Cassidy’s eyes flew to his.
Clayton blushed and turned his eyes away. “Just joking.”
They dished up their meal, and Cassidy groaned after the first bite. “Did you actually cook this?”
“My secret’s out; I’m a culinary genius.” Clayton raised one eyebrow. “You aren’t buying that, are you?”
Cassidy shook her head.
“Okay, I confess. My housekeeper prepared the food and left instructions for warming. But, hey, I opened the wine myself.” Clayton plucked an open bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon off the sideboard behind him. “Would you like a glass with your dinner?”
“I’d love one, thank you.” Cassidy passed him her wine goblet. “And please thank your housekeeper. Every bite is beyond scrumptious.”
“I’ll leave Elsie a note, and a big tip, since I’ll depart for work before she arrives at noon tomorrow.” Clayton smiled and poured himself a glass of wine, too.
Clayton and Cassidy managed to finish the meal without one argument, disagreement, or raised voice. Cassidy relaxed and actually enjoyed herself, and the normally closed-mouthed Clayton carried his share of the conversation. They even shared a couple of laughs.
“Cassidy, do you enjoy trying new dishes?”
“Sure. I’m up for almost anything, especially when on vacation in a new country.” Cassidy finished the last of her wine, and Clayton refilled her glass. How many refills had she drunk? She’d lost count awhile ago. And she wasn’t certain she could stand too steadily at the moment. Please, God, I won’t survive a repeat of my date with Randy.
Clayton pulled her from her thoughts with a question. “Ever tried moose meat since you moved up north?”
“Goodness, no. And despite Sarah Palin’s accolades for what she deems a delicacy, I’m not certain I’m ready to try it either.”
“Too late.” Clayton pointed at her empty plate. “Roast moose with wine sauce.”
“No!” Cassidy’s mouth dropped open. “That was moose?”
“Yep. Pretty tasty when it’s cooked properly.”
“I would never have guessed.”
“Ready for dessert?” Clayton rose from the table and collected their plates.
“I’m afraid to ask what you’re serving.” Cassidy laughed and then groaned. “And I’m stuffed. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Clayton groaned in mock disappointment. “And I purposely picked up a dozen Lemon Meringue Tarts at the Fire Island Bakeshop yesterday.”
“Say no more. I love their tarts. Shall I brew a pot of coffee to accompany them?”
“Maybe later, let’s finish off this wine first.” Clayton upended the remains of their second bottle of wine into his glass.
“Are you feeling as tipsy as I am?” confessed Cassidy, rising from her chair.
“Just pleasantly buzzed.” Clayton chuckled, heading to the kitchen with their plates and two empty wine bottles. “The little girls’ room is down the hall on the right.”
“Read my mind. Thank you.” Cassidy tottered off in the direction he’d indicated.
When she returned a few minutes later, dessert awaited her. And he’d served two small scoops of vanilla ice cream alongside their tarts. “The ice cream is a wonderfully unexpected addition. Did you ever notice a small serving of ice cream following a big meal dissipates the overstuffed feeling?”
Clayton tilted his head and picked up his fork. “Let’s test your theory.”
A half hour later, they’d finished dessert, cleared the table, cleaned up the kitchen, and loaded and started the dishwasher. Together, they wandered into the living room with a third bottle of wine. Clayton kicked off his shoes, slipped his jacket off and tossed it and his tie onto a chair.
While Clayton poured them each yet another glass of wine, Cassidy peeked out the picture window overlooking the backyard. In the fading daylight, she distinguished several flowerbeds, a badminton net suspended from two posts, and a cement patch surrounding a basketball hoop.
Cassidy turned and discovered Clayton snuggled into the sofa with his feet propped up on the antique coffee table. “Does the owner of this home approve of that?” she teased, pointing to his feet. She kicked off her sandals, sat on the opposite end, and tucked her bare feet up under her. She sipped her wine and leaned her head back on the soft leather.
“If I lived here, you’d never coerce me into going to work.” And then she realized what she’d said and blushed. “Sorry, I…just…too much wine.”
“Actually, I agree with you. Spending so many hours working in a bustling bar with music blaring, glassware and bottles tinkling, customers and staff shouting and laughing, it’s absolute heaven to sneak home after a hard day and recharge my batteries in silence and solitude.” Clayton topped off her wine glass as he spoke.
“Please promise me that that is the last refill. You’re in no shape to drive me home, and I won’t be able to read the numbers on the phone to call a cab.” Cassidy shifted on the couch, snuggling farther into its softness.
The leather warmed her entire body, the wine soothed her fretful mind, and she even felt a little drowsy. Why had she worried? She’d never felt so relaxed on a date.
“Stay the night if you prefer. Take your pick of the five guest rooms.” Clayton stood, wavered on his feet and then headed for the sound system.
What exactly were Clayton’s intentions? she wondered. But her date had mentioned guest bedrooms, hadn’t he? She’d clearly read too much into his comment. A soft waltz played from every corner of the room through hidden speakers, and Cassidy recognized the singer as Seal.
“Would you like to dance?” Clayton reached out, grabbed her hand, and hoisted her to her feet before she could answer.
“All right. I guess I’m dancing.” Cassidy staggered slightly. But Clayton wrapped her in his arms and tucked her against his body. Together, they swayed in time to the music.
“Is this your concept of dancing?” Cassidy leaned back and looked her dance partner in the eye. “We haven’t moved off this spot.”
“My secret method. This way I won’t step on your toes.” Clayton nuzzled her neck.
“Brilliant strategy.” Cassidy hummed along with the music, and her arms encircled his neck of their own volition. “But you’ll never be invited to participate on Dancing with the Stars.
“Nope. Not a star.”
One song led to another and then another.
Cassidy lost track of time and conscious thought, savoring Clayton’s hard muscular body pressed against her own softness. They fit together like a hand and a glove. And she soon became aware of his obvious physical attraction to her.
This can’t be happening, she thought. She wasn’t certain she even liked him. Why would the universe complicate her life by instigating a physical attraction between them? Nothing will ever come of it, she warned herself.
Clayton’s fingers slowly crept up her spine and then skimmed down her sides creating goose bumps on her goose bumps. Normally, the very thought of such a thing would send Cassidy into a fit of squeals, claiming ticklishness and ordering him to cease it immediately.
She silently prayed he would never stop.
Suddenly, Clayton stilled. The waltz could have stopped several minutes ago for all she knew. She’d been totally lost in the moment. When she looked deep into his eyes, she saw the passion and longing she’d stirred in him. And something she didn’t expect. Was he actually frightened of the feelings she’d aroused in him?
“We never toured the master bedroom before dinner. Would you like a tour now?”
Cassidy blinked to clear her vision. She’d definitely drunk way too much wine. Was she readi
ng more into his question than he intended? Surely, he wasn’t suggesting they spend the night together. Or was he?
Clayton released her, and she stepped back out of his embrace. Suddenly, the room chilled by at least a dozen degrees. She missed his warmth, the feel of his body against hers. She felt protected in his arms.
“Okay.” Cassidy shocked herself, knowing what inevitably would happen.
“Are you certain?” Clayton’s hand captured her chin and then he leaned forward and gently kissed her lips.
She almost melted into a puddle at his feet.
When the kiss ended, Cassidy opened her eyes, certain she’d be blinded by the sparks she’d felt exploding around them. The darkened room was lit solely by moonlight streaming through the picture window. But she clearly discerned the tender expression on his face.
“We won’t do anything, Cassidy, unless…” Clayton pulled her toward him, held her tightly in his arms. She pressed her cheek against his chest, felt his heart beating a steady tattoo like a military drum at sunset.
Cassidy reached for his hand and led him toward the staircase.
Chapter 11
When they reached the staircase’s bottom step, Clayton unexpectedly halted. Cassidy whirled around. Had her sudden aggressiveness turned him off?
“What?” she whispered.
Six months had passed since she’d made love with a man, long before she’d even dated Jonathan Ward. She missed that special connection with another human being. Despite an innocent daydream or two she’d never seriously considered making love with Clayton Morrison. Until a minute ago. But now that the opportunity presented itself, she realized that if he changed his mind, she’d actually be disappointed.
“I have a better idea.” He brushed her forehead with a kiss. “Follow me.”
Clayton led her through the darkened house, like a blind person who’d counted and memorized the required number of steps. In a minute, they stood beside the pool. The surface of the water sparkled as moonlight streamed in through the overhead windows. The humid air stole her breath.
Not What It Seems (Escape to Alaska Trilogy) Page 9
