by Cindi Madsen
Her blush deepened, and her gaze dropped to her pad. Then she reached up and slid those damn glasses up her nose, and a spike of desire shot through him. This level of flirting was what he’d always wanted with her but constantly held back. He was getting himself into a mess now, no question about it.
“So, the New York Strip steak, then. How would you like that cooked?” Cassie cocked an eyebrow, almost as if she were challenging him to find a way to turn that into an innuendo.
With his brain suddenly not working, he went with boring answers for her next few questions.
“I’ll put that in, and it’ll be out soon,” she said.
“You guys close in about twenty, right?” He hadn’t planned on dinner, but he could always eat, and it gave him more time to observe Cassie. But it also made him one of those obnoxious customers who showed up right before closing and obliterated any chance of getting off work at a decent hour.
“We do, but if you need a little longer, I’d be happy to accommodate you. We’re all about the service here.” She almost seemed as surprised as he was that she’d said it, but she tried to cover it up with an innocent smile that gave him the opposite of innocent thoughts.
He debated for a second whether to ask, but just went for it. “What was your name?” He watched her expression carefully, trying to see if she was pulling some big act on him.
“I’m Cassie. Shoot, did I forget to say that in the beginning?” She tapped her pen to the side of her forehead, adorably flustered. “Lately, this is having some issues. But I swear I’m much better at remembering food orders.”
Vince wanted to reach out, take her hand, and give it a reassuring squeeze. He settled for a smile. “No worries. I’m Vince.”
Again, he watched, waiting for her to call bullshit and say of course she knew who he was, and then throw something at him and try to flee, or…just have some kind of reaction that didn’t make him feel like he’d imagined all of their previous interactions. Then again, he was glad she didn’t seem to remember the horrible moment in the alley that’d landed them both in a huge fucked-up mess.
“Nice to meet you,” she said. Then she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I better get this order in and go help close out.”
“But you’ll be back?”
She met his gaze, her face betraying nothing but genuine happiness. “Yeah. I’ll be back.”
Chapter Ten
Cassie grabbed the salad for her drool-worthy customer. Vince, she reminded herself with a smile. Man, even his name is sexy.
“Hey.” Tyra, the waitresses who’d mostly communicated with sneered one-word answers or commands, stood there, a false smile on her face that immediately raised red flags. Tyra reminded Cassie of the mean girls in high school. Pretty, privileged, and determined to get her way no matter who she had to step on.
I suppose that’s judgmental. I should give her a chance. “Yes?”
“That guy is super hot.” She tilted her head in Vince’s direction, even though Cassie would’ve known who she meant without it. Not to mention he was the only customer left. “He’s alone, right?”
“Yes, he came in alone.”
“Good. I’ll take that to him.” Tyra grabbed the salad out of her hand and Cassie just blinked, her mouth hanging open. She was going to give the girl a chance, not give her Vince. Not that he was hers to give or anything. Since her only option now would be to run and tackle her for the salad, Cassie helplessly watched as Tyra approached Vince’s table.
So much for being bold.
Tyra, on the other hand, had no problem with boldness. She never tugged at her short skirt in an attempt to make it longer, and the top three buttons on her shirt were undone. With her long dark hair and Barbie-like physique, she had the looks to pull it off, too. She leaned over Vince, placing her hand on his shoulder as she set his salad down, and a surprisingly strong wave of jealousy rolled through Cassie.
Calm down, emotions. He’s hot and all, but for all I know he could be a crazed killer looking for his next victim. Tyra slid a piece of paper to him—her phone number, no doubt. And now I’m never going to, because when she’s an option, why would he choose me?
Vince looked away from Tyra’s beauty queen grin. His eyes scanned the room and suddenly locked on hers, causing her heart to lurch in her chest. It was too late to pretend not to be watching, so she shot him a quick smile, complete with a tiny two-fingered wave. Maybe I’m not out of the running just yet.
Tyra followed his line of sight, shot daggers at Cassie, and then rearranged her face to a friendly expression before turning to Vince. To keep from obsessing over their exchange or looking like a desperate stalker type, Cassie turned to roll silverware for tomorrow.
The old Cassie would just step aside, but the new Cassie wasn’t going to be a push over. When his food order came up, she’d take it to him and show that she could bat her eyes with the best of them. After all, how often did hot guys flirt with her?
Carpe the hottie—that’s gonna be my new motto. She laughed at her own joke, quickly stifling it when Tyra strode over and sighed loud enough to convey her annoyance.
Cassie took her time tugging the white linen napkin into a tight roll and then casually turned to her. “Yes?”
“He said to tell you that you promised you’d be back, and he’s holding you to it.” Tyra ran her gaze up and down Cassie, the deepening scowl making it clear she wasn’t impressed with what she saw. “Who’d chose you over me?”
“I guess he would,” Cassie said, shock coming seconds after her words. She never said things like that—not out loud, anyway. Luckily the cook shouted that the food was up, so Cassie escaped before Tyra’s wrath could be unleashed.
She walked across the restaurant and placed Vince’s food in front of him.
“I think I offended your friend,” he said as she withdrew her hand, her usual spiel fading from the tip of her tongue.
“Friend’s a generous word for what she is to me.” Okay, maybe she needed to reel back on saying every thought that popped into her head. There was a fine line between bold and bitchy. “I haven’t worked here for very long, so honestly, I barely know her.”
“You seem like a really good waitress for being so new at it.”
“New here. Old to the job.”
He looked at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite fit together. The expression felt familiar somehow. Or was it a familiar longing? That desire to get to know someone better. To have a friend or a boyfriend—someone to talk to at the end of a long day. Someone who’d come to visit if she landed in the freaking hospital.
“So where’d you work before?” he asked.
“A tiny restaurant in Colorado. That’s where I’m from originally.” She leaned a hip on the side of the tall booth, bringing them closer. “Why the interest in my job?”
“It’s more an interest in the girl doing the job.” The deep voice combined with his statement sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.
Vince winked and then picked up his knife and fork. He paused and looked back at her. She was about to ask if it was cooked to his satisfaction—even though he hadn’t tried it yet—when he asked, “Why’d you say you thought it was the best steak you ever had?”
“The short answer is I tend to ramble when I should just stop talking.”
“What’s the long answer?” The intense way he stared at her, clearly waiting, made her face grow hot.
“I… don’t remember every steak I’ve had.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not the long version.”
No one at McCarthy’s knew about her accident, and she planned on keeping it that way. Who wanted to work with someone with memory problems? Only the hospital staff and Tom knew about her amnesia, and that was because she hadn’t had to tell them. She didn’t even know where to start, or if she should spill her guts to a total stranger.
A total stranger who made me feel things I haven’t in a long time. Even with that, she probably would’
ve made an excuse to leave if she hadn’t looked into his eyes. “I was in an accident about a month ago,” she said. “I woke up in the hospital and couldn’t remember what happened or why I was in New Jersey. So there are a few years missing from my memory, when I could’ve had the best steak ever, but the one here is the best I remember. Anyway, you probably want to eat yours before it gets cold.”
Feeling vulnerable from spilling so much, she turned to leave.
He caught her arm. She looked down at the long fingers encircling her wrist, then slowly back up at him. “Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t let go. “You’re saying you don’t remember the accident at all?”
“Nope. It’s kind of disconcerting, actually, and it sucks because of my college classes—” She cut herself off before she started rambling again. “But I’m trying to just start over and move on. No use crying over spilled milk and gray matter, right?”
His lips twitched like he didn’t know whether or not to be amused at the slightly disturbing analogy. “I guess not.” He brushed his thumb over the underside of her wrist, and the pulse point beneath the thin skin beat faster.
“Anyway, it was kind of freaky, and once in a while I still feel a little confused and disorientated, but I’m dealing, and honestly I’m lucky it wasn’t worse.” She licked her lips, eyeing his glass and fighting the urge to take a large gulp and rid herself of the desert that’d taken up residence in her throat.
“Did you, uh, need anything else?” She gestured at the plate of food growing colder by the second. She could hardly think straight with his hand still wrapped around her wrist. She knew she should pull away, yet her feet remained rooted in place.
“Yeah. I’d like to get to know you better. It’s a nice night. How about we take a walk after you get off work?” He repeated the thumb swipe motion, and her pulse and skin repeated their reaction to it.
“Oh. I…um…well.” She thought about the weird being-watched feeling and how nice it would be to have some company on her walk home. But then again, she’d just met the guy. Where was the line between bold and stupid, and why did she suddenly want to cross it either way if it meant a few more minutes with Vince?
“Let me guess… you don’t usually agree to go out with strangers.”
“Not usually,” she said. “Not ever, actually.”
“Good thing we’re not strangers, then.” His voice took on an intimate tone, and longing was undoubtedly pumping through her body now. “Patience isn’t my strong suit, and I don’t see any reason to come in here two or three more times before asking you out.”
Be bold, be bold, be bold. “My place isn’t far from here.” Then she realized she might be giving him the wrong idea, and she certainly wasn’t that bold. “I’m not saying let’s have a one-night stand or anything. Just to be clear.”
One corner of his sexy mouth quirked up. “I didn’t think you were. How about I walk you home, and we take it from there?”
“Okay,” she said, still sort of amazed she was actually agreeing, and told herself she had pepper spray, just in case. “It’ll be about twenty or thirty minutes, probably.”
He slid his hand down to hers, gave it a quick squeeze, and said, “I’ll wait for you outside.”
***
Vince’s entire plan had changed in an instant, and he wasn’t sure where to go from here. The fact that Cassie didn’t remember anything made a glimmer of hope rise up and implant itself in his chest. He wanted to believe everything would be okay now. No having to follow through with his original plan or forever looking over his shoulder after.
No dealing with the crushing guilt.
But that was overly optimistic, and he knew better. I’ve just got to convince Carlo she’s not a threat. That was easier said than done, though.
The door to the restaurant opened, and Cassie stepped out. She had on a dark purple coat that flared at the bottom. It landed about an inch above her blessedly short skirt, and his blood heated as he took in every inch of her. She’d always had a bit of the hot librarian look going on, and it was in full-force now.
For the first time since he’d laid eyes on her, they were completely alone.
“Hey,” she said, appearing surprised he’d waited like he said he would.
“You ready?” he asked, and she nodded. He almost started toward her apartment, and then realized he wasn’t supposed to know where they were going. “Which way?”
Cassie pointed left. “I’m not too far. Like fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“So I’ve got fifteen minutes to convince you to invite me inside for a drink.”
A smile curved her lips. “I usually make decisions like that in about five, so tick-tock.”
Well, if she was going to play it like that, he’d have to use everything he had in his arsenal. He placed his hand on the small of her back. The gesture was simple enough, but the effect it had on him was surprisingly strong. It made him want to curl her to him and wrap his arms around her; he’d been sure she was going to die in the street all those weeks ago. To have her in front of him again sent an unexpected surge of affection through his chest. Usually he looked at relationships as temporary fun to pass the time, but with Cassie, he felt something stronger. Had from day one.
Maybe that was the other reason he’d stopped himself from asking her out. Yes, he’d wanted to keep from pulling her into his messy life, but the shy, sweet blonde also scared him, because she made him feel when he was so used to being numb.
Before he started waxing poetic or some shit, he put gentle pressure on her back and started toward her apartment complex.
“I love this time of year,” she said, changing her stride to step on a couple of crunchy leaves on the sidewalk. With the sun down, the temperature hovered in the mid-forties. Not cool enough for him to have bothered with a coat, which was why he’d also left his gun in the Jeep.
He cast a quick glance back, telling himself he wouldn’t need his weapon. The streets were quiet, hardly anyone was out, and this was a nicer neighborhood. People would notice punks trying to break into his car and report it instead of turning a blind eye as they scurried past.
Okay, focus. Normal people conversation. The kind that makes it seem like I don’t already know her. “Is that why you walk to and from work? Or do you not have a car?” Maybe she’d sold the hunk of junk.
“Oh, I have one, and it’s one of those unforgettable type cars. It’s old and ugly and growls like a cat in heat, but it’s reliable.”
Vince chuckled. “And how exactly does a cat in heat growl?”
“That’s what you’re going to ask in your remaining four minutes?”
“If you demonstrate it’ll be worth it.”
She shook her head, two spots of pink rising to her cheeks. With how easy her emotions were to read, it was a wonder he ever considered she’d only been acting clueless about who he was. “I got the saying from my dad,” she said. “Now that I think about it, it’s…a bit disturbing.”
Vince slowed his steps, his hand stilling on her back. From one of their late-night conversations at the restaurant, he knew her dad had passed away from cancer. She hadn’t gone into details, but he could tell from the combination of warmth and sadness in her voice they’d been close. Surely she remembered he’d passed away? Or had they had to tell her that in the hospital and have it crush her all over again?
“Sounds like an interesting guy,” he said, hoping it’d be comforting instead of like pouring lemon juice on a raw wound.
“He was. He’s…He died two years ago—or four, I mean.” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead and confusion flickered across her features for a moment. Then she shook her head and it seemed to be gone.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I know people always say that or act like they know how you feel, but I lost my dad, too. The emptiness never quite goes away, but it gets a little easier to deal with over time.” That was what he’d almost told her that night at Rossi’s, but he’d clamped it down. He
didn’t know why it was suddenly easier to tell her now.
“Yeah. And some days that empty spot is more glaring than others, and you feel like you’re starting over.” Their gazes met and locked. “I’m sorry, too. About your dad.”
He took her hand, and she slid her fingers between his. The same warmth he’d experienced earlier came back, only twice as strong. Guilt over everything he was leaving out quickly rose up and diluted it with its cold edge, but he told himself he didn’t have a choice. Telling her they’d met before would only put her in more danger.
“So, I…” Vince forgot the rest of his sentence as a car crawled to a near stop next to them—a car that clearly didn’t belong in this neighborhood. Alarms rang out in his head, and his muscles coiled. One of the tinted windows rolled down a couple of inches, and the streetlight glinted on the barrel that stuck out.
He yanked Cassie to him and dove to the ground, right as a spray of bullets erupted. Another gun joined the first. Uzis, fully automatic. Keeping Cassie under him, he dragged them behind the closest tire of the car at the curb and tucked into a tight ball, throwing his arms over his head like that’d stop a bullet. The car windows shattered, the glass raining over them as bits of plaster from the building pelted their other side. He hoped for standard thirty-two round magazines instead of forty or fifty.
An eternity passed as he tried to make himself and Cassie smaller. Prayed for the car to offer them enough coverage. Waited for a bullet to tear into flesh or to feel Cassie jerk underneath him before she stopped breathing completely.
The ripping buzz-saw noise finally cut off, but the ringing in his ears remained. Tires squealed as the car sped off, red brake lights flashing as the driver made a sharp left.
For a moment Vince simply breathed in and out, checking to see if he still could. Then he realized Cassie hadn’t moved, and his lungs turned to lead. “Cassie? Are you hurt?”
He propped himself up on his palms, gritting his teeth against the broken glass and bits of plaster that dug into his skin. She slowly rolled to her back, and he studied her face—clear. Chest and abdomen…He wasn’t sure. “Cassie!”
