by Jan Hudson
“And you’re never wrong?”
“Rarely. I’m not wrong about this.”
“But, Mom, Sam Outlaw checked him out. He’s clean.”
“And exactly why did Sam, a Texas Ranger, check him out?”
Cass squirmed. “Bad vibes? I don’t know.”
“I’ll bet Sam didn’t trust him, either.”
“Perhaps not, but I trust him, Mom. I love Griff.”
“Oh, dear God!”
“Mom, cut the dramatics.”
“Will you promise me, promise me sincerely that you’ll find out more about him before you do something foolish?”
Cass wondered what her mother considered foolish. She’d already done everything except elope with him. “If it will ease you mind, Mom, I promise.”
“Oh, thank you, dear. Thank you.” She hurried from behind the desk and bent over to hug Cass. “Do it right away. I’ve been having such bad feelings.” She kissed Cass’s forehead and held her close in the comforting and protective way she’d always done.
“I will, Mom.”
CASS SAT IN FRONT OF her computer for the longest time, indecision eating her from the inside out. Did she trust Griff or not? She’d trusted Daniel, and look where it got her. Her father had told her to follow her heart, but then he was a ghost, and she’d promised her mother, who was flesh and blood.
Oh, hell and damnation! It was a simple matter to type his name into the search engine. Checking the Internet was no big deal. It was a wonder she hadn’t done it sooner.
G-r-i-f-f-i-n M-i-t-c-h-e-l-l
She punched “Search,” closed her eyes and waited.
All kinds of Griffin Mitchells popped up, including a sixteen-year-old in Anaheim who was on Facebook, and one who had died recently in Alabama. The only ones she found for her Griffin Mitchell were innocuous mentions of information she already knew about.
Her shoulders slumped in relief. Should she take it further?
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Cass picked up her cell and punched in Maddie Evert’s number.
When her friend and former colleague answered, she said, “Hey, Maddie, this is Cass. How are things in the Big Apple?” They yakked for a few minutes before Cass jumped in. “I have a big favor to ask. I know you went to Harvard. Did you happen to know a Griffin Mitchell? I’m not sure of the year he was there, but I’d guess he was ahead of you.”
Maddie didn’t know him, but suggested her older brother or cousin might. Both were Harvard educated lawyers in New York.
“Would you check around for me and find out anything you can about him? Confidentially, please. It’s, uh, business, and I want to know who I’m up against.”
Maddie agreed to ask around and call back when she heard something.
When Cass hung up, she felt slightly dirty.
More than slightly.
She took a deep breath and tried to let it go.
Looking through the stack of business mail she needed to answer, she couldn’t believe they’d received another letter from Walter Zeagler, the guy in New York who was so hot to buy the Chili Witches tract. Slicing it open, she was a bit surprised that not only had her last response not discouraged him, but he was requesting a meeting with them the following week. Why was ZASM Consulting so interested in their property?
Although she was certain what they would say, Cass set the letter aside to discuss with the family, and turned to other correspondence. She stopped only to have a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk, and by eleven she was finished and fell into bed.
But she couldn’t sleep. Her sheets smelled of Griff.
She ran her fingers over the spot where he had slept, and hugged his pillow close, breathing in the tantalizing scent of him. She loved him so. Her mother couldn’t be right about him. She just couldn’t.
A small voice inside her seemed to whisper, “He loves you, truly loves you.”
She had to believe that.
TOWARD THE TAIL END of rush hour, Cass looked up from the register to see Griff by the front door talking to Aunt Min. He held three smallish boxes tied with red ribbons, and she watched him present one to Min with a big smile. Cass looked around for her mother, but she must have been in the kitchen or office.
“Hi there,” Cass said, walking toward him.
“Hello yourself. I got a yen for some chili.” He handed her a box.
“He gave me one, too,” Aunt Min said, holding open a box of chocolate-covered strawberries and smiling brightly. “Aren’t they scrumptious looking?”
“Where’s your mom?” Griff asked. “I have one for her as well.”
“I’ll go see if I can locate her,” Min said. “You can seat Griff.”
When her aunt left, he said, “At least she got my name right.”
“Aunt Min is a dear.” Cass motioned to a small table by the window. “Want a beer?”
“After last night, I’m not sure I’ll ever want another beer. Do you have time to join me?”
“I’ll take a few minutes. We’re not too busy.”
They had a quiet lunch, but Gloria never showed her face. After Griff left, Cass took the other box and tracked her mother down in the office. “Griff brought this for you.”
“Oh, thank you, dear.” She set the box on the desk without even peeking inside.
Later, after Min and Gloria had left for the day, the box still sat on the desk.
Cass sighed. What a mess. She was too old to play Juliet.
AFTER SHE CLOSED, Cass again found Griff waiting for her on the steps to her apartment. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I was lonely. Pack a bag and come with me. I’ve bought bubble bath and more massage oil. I’ll rub your feet. And we’ll spend all day tomorrow feeding each other bananas and grapes.”
“Bananas and grapes?”
“Somebody has to eat all the fruit I bought. And I’ll cook you the steak I promised.”
Cass had to consider for only half a second. She tossed some things in an overnighter and they were off.
“Do you like Marcia Ball?” he asked.
“I adore Marcia Ball. She’s won blues awards out the kazoo.”
“Good. I heard phenomenal things about her and got tickets to her show at someplace called Antone’s tomorrow night.”
“Great. Antone’s is a nightclub on Fifth Street.”
When they arrived at his building, Griff carried her bag upstairs. “Want a glass of wine while I fix your bath?”
“I’d love a glass of wine, but you don’t have to fix my bath.”
“Don’t be so independent. Let me do this for you. Red or white?”
“White.”
He filled two glasses and handed one to her. “I’ll be right back.” He flipped something and soft sax music drifted through the apartment. “Great sound system here.”
In a few minutes he returned, picked up her wine and pulled her to her feet. “Your bath is drawn.” He led her into his big spa-like bathroom, where a dozen candles perfumed the air and bubbles almost spilled out of the tub. “I overestimated the bubble bath a little, but I think this will do. Hop in. I’ll be right back.”
Cass didn’t have to be asked twice. She quickly shed her clothes and stepped in.
And quickly stepped out. The water was scalding hot, and her toes were boiled. She began to add some cold, but the bubbles rose higher and higher like a giant soufflé over the rim of the tub. She scooped a huge armload of foam and looked around for a place to put it.
The only logical place was the shower.
She was on her third armload when the door opened.
“What are you doing?” Griff asked.
“Moving bubbles. Help me. They’re alive and multiplying.” She handed him her load and reached for another.
“Honey, turn off the faucet.”
“I can’t find it!”
Mounds of bubbles were spilling onto the floor when Griff waded through the mess and managed to turn off the wat
er. Hands on his hips and a disgusted expression on his face, he surveyed the foam covering the bathroom and spat out a very succinct expletive.
Cass picked up a big bunch of foam, shaped it into a huge ball and began singing “A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody” as she danced around the room.
Griff grinned, then began to laugh until they were both roaring. He hugged her to him, squashing her ball. “Cass, you’re one of a kind. And how I love you!”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Griff had to chuckle. Cass had insisted on taking the bath he’d prepared for her, and they’d finally herded enough of the foam into the shower stall for her to do so. Towels lined the floor, capturing the rest of the mess, and Cass lay, her head on a plastic pillow, surrounded by slowly diminishing bubbles, sound asleep. He knew she must be exhausted.
He knelt by the tub and kissed her. “Babe?”
“Hmm?”
“You have to wake up. You’re getting wrinkly.”
She opened her eyes. “Was I asleep?”
“You were. Come on. I’ll help you dry off.”
Between the two of them, they managed to get her dry, and he wrapped his robe around her and carried her to bed. Before he could undress and join her, she’d curled up and was sound asleep again.
He eased in under the sheets, feelings of protective tenderness filling his heart to near bursting.
He’d heard sappy love songs forever, but for the first time in his life he understood the meaning behind all of them. Heart and soul, she was the one. Whatever it cost him, Cass was worth it. He wanted to slay dragons and lay the world at her feet, and God help anyone who ever hurt her. Moreover, he wanted to rip out his tongue and stomp on it for ever agreeing to romance her out of Chili Witches. Griff had gotten caught in his own trap, and ZASM had been the biggest dragon of all.
CASS PURRED AND STRETCHED in bed like a satisfied cat. Nothing was quite as nice as making love in the morning. She rolled over onto her side and glanced at the clock. It was after nine, and she didn’t care. She and Griff had all day to do nothing but eat, sleep and make love. How glorious. She stretched again, wondering if she should go join him in the shower.
On the nightstand a cell phone rang, and she automatically leaned over to look at the caller ID. ZASM. Walter Zeagler again. How did that jerk get her phone number?
Then it dawned on her. The phone wasn’t hers. It was Griff’s. What the—
Cass yanked up the phone. “Hello.”
“Honey, let me talk to Griff.”
A rock landed in her stomach, and horror spread over her like an alien blob. Bile rose up in her throat as things began to click into place. Oh, no. Please, God, no. She closed her eyes, hoping against hope…
“And who may I say is calling?” she asked as sweetly as she could manage.
“Tell him it’s Walt, Walt Zeagler.”
“And what is this in reference to, Mr. Zeagler?”
“Look, I’m his partner. He’ll know what it’s about. Now shake your tail, sweet-cheeks.”
Click. The guillotine dropped. Fury rolled over her in tsunami waves. “Kiss my ass!” She hung up and turned off his phone. Not again! Dammit, not again!
She strode to the kitchen, poured three bottles of beer into the ice bucket and stomped back to the bathroom. Griff was just turning off the shower when she got there.
She jerked open the door. As he turned to her and smiled, she screamed, “You son of a bitch! You egg-sucking, lily-livered, low-down, slithering son of a bitch!” and heaved the beer and ice in his face. “If I had a knife, I’d gut you like a fish!”
Dropping the bucket, she ran from the room and slammed the door behind her. If she hadn’t been naked as a jaybird, she’d have kept going, but she stopped to grab a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
“Cass! Wait!” Griff charged from the bathroom, dripping water and swiping a towel over his face. “What’s wrong?” He grabbed her arm.
She snatched it away. “Don’t you touch me, you conniving scumbag.” Not bothering with underwear, she yanked on the shorts and tee. “Don’t you ever touch me again. Not ever!”
“Honey, whatever’s wrong, I’ll fix it. Just tell me why you’re so upset.”
“Walt Zeagler called while you were in the shower. We chatted.”
Griff paled.
“Uh-huh.” She snatched up her shoes and strode from the room.
“Wait! Cass! I can explain.”
Spinning to face him, she said, “Explain this. Did you come to Austin to talk us into selling Chili Witches?”
He opened and closed his mouth.
“Cat got your tongue?” she asked in a syrupy voice. “You’re lower than worm dirt.” She wheeled and headed for the front door, grabbing her purse on the way.
“Cass, please listen to me. It may have started out that way, but I swear to God, things changed. I love—”
She slammed the front door in his face and ran for the elevator.
He yanked open the door and came after her. “Dammit, Cass, you’ve got to listen.”
Poking the elevator button repeatedly, she said, “Go away. My mother was right. She said you were a charlatan! To think that I—we— Oh, gawd! I’m such a gullible fool.” She poked the button again, and the door opened.
She rushed inside. Griff followed.
“You can’t come in here,” she said. “You’re naked!”
“I don’t care.” He wrapped the towel he held around his waist. “Sweetheart, please listen to me. I told Walt the deal was off, and—”
“I’m not listening to you, dirtbag!” She crammed her feet into her shoes. “I should have listened to my first instincts. I knew I couldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you. When will I ever learn?” She looped her bag over her head and shoulder.
The elevator door opened, and she ran for the sidewalk to elude him, and jogged toward home.
Undeterred, he jogged alongside her, barefoot and bare-assed in downtown Austin, trying to get her to listen to his lousy excuses. She ran faster. “Dammit, Griff, you’re naked!”
“I don’t care. I love you, Cass. I want to marry you and live in Austin and have babies!”
Oh, gawd. What if she was pregnant?
She ran faster.
At an intersection, a police car pulled alongside them and blocked the way. The cop got out. “Sir. Stop right there.”
The light turned and Cass shot across the street. She glanced over her shoulder to see Griff being put into the backseat of the patrol car. Her heart did a little flip, but she steeled herself. “Good enough, you slick weasel,” she muttered.
In a few minutes she was home, and as she was about to go upstairs, Sunny drove up. Cass waited for her to get out of her car.
“Cass, what’s wrong?”
“Griffin Mitchell is what’s wrong. Mom was right. You were right. Everybody was right. He’s a conniving son of a bitch! Did you know he’s a partner in ZASM?”
“What’s ZASM?”
“Walter Zeagler’s ZASM, the company trying to buy us out. Zeagler’s the Z, and Griff is probably the M. Griff came here to get in our good graces and cajole us into selling this property.”
“How did you find out?”
Cass told Sunny about the phone call and confrontation.
“Oh, dear Lord, Cass. How terrible. I’m so sorry.” She hugged her. “What can I do?”
“Nothing, sis. No, you can keep him away from me. I’m going to lock myself upstairs in my apartment. If I know him, he’ll be banging on the door any minute trying to ‘explain’—as if he could. I’m not answering the phone or my door, and if he tries to wheedle you into anything, don’t fall for it. Send him packing.”
“You got it. I’ll come up later and use our code to knock.”
They hugged again, and Cass ran upstairs, noticing only then that her shirt was on backward.
LUCKILY, AUSTIN COPS WERE understanding. The one who’d picked up Griff listened with a fairly straight face to his explana
tion of his attire. Then took him home.
Luckily as well, the valet in the garage vouched for him. Unfortunately, when Griff got upstairs he discovered he was locked out of his apartment. After a few choice words, he kicked the door, which didn’t bother the door but mangled his toe and hurt like hell.
Another trip down the elevator and he located someone with a pass key to let him in. Nobody he met on either trip commented on his dress. Maybe they thought he was wearing a bathing suit under the towel.
First thing he did was call Walt and ask him what the hell he wanted. No, he wouldn’t meet with him in Austin next week, and no, he wouldn’t change his mind about anything. He quizzed Walt about what he’d said to Cass, yelled a few colorful things about his parentage and brain size, and hung up. He’d begun to think months ago that Walt was losing it. No telling what the crazy bastard would do next. Griff had tried to tell the other partners, but as long as they were making huge profits, they didn’t much care.
He’d tried to reason with Walt, showed him research on a dozen other properties, but it was like trying to reason with a gorilla, so Griff had tied up a few loose ends, packed up his office and told them where to stick it.
Somehow, some way, he had to get Cass to listen to him. He wanted to beat his head against a wall. He got dressed and headed for her apartment.
Her car was in its usual place, so he figured she hadn’t gone far. He went upstairs and banged on her door for ten minutes, but she didn’t answer. He put his ear to the door and could hear the faint noise of her television, so he assumed she was there. Next he tried dialing her cell and was able to make out a ring inside. But she didn’t answer. It kicked into voice mail.
He sat down on the steps and tried his best to explain things. He told her he’d resigned from the firm, and poured his heart out to her. Over and over he begged her to forgive him and talk to him.
After knocking one more time, he stuck his phone in his pocket and went downstairs to Chili Witches. Maybe Sunny could help.
