Because she wanted to be his happily-ever-after, damn it, and wanted him to be hers!
No matter how impossible it was.
“You’re not really a writer, are you?” he asked after a time.
“Not a real one. I’ve never sold anything. I’ve never actually written anything before this summer. I’ve been trying, but…” She shrugged, then settled against the hard, comforting warmth of his body again.
“Can I read what you’ve written?”
The sound of a boat engine drifted across the lake, drawing her gaze to the water. Far-off running lights showed in the dim light, and she watched until they were out of sight before replying, “Maybe.” For all he’d put up with, all he’d done, he deserved answers to his questions, and by not giving them until she’d already disappeared, she could avoid having to know his reaction. Once she was gone, never to be seen again, there would be no danger in his knowing. There would be no risk of finding out that he didn’t care.
“Have you ever considered writing?” she asked in an effort to steer herself away from thoughts that would make her even bluer. His response was a derisive snort that vibrated through her and made her give him a primly chastising look. “You were a cop for seventeen years. You must have some amazing stories to tell. And it’s not as if you’re a stranger to writing. You had to write reports and stuff on the job, didn’t you?”
“Have you ever read a police report? They’re not exactly stimulating reading.” In the snooty, pretentious tone of a reviewer, he said, “‘The prose is ponderous, the dialogue contrived, and what little plot there is defies credibility. Sentence structure is poor, the author has a misguided notion that “myself” is a proper substitute for “I,” and where in hell did he find all those commas?’”
She smiled, lazily amused. “Then what are you going to do?”
“Right now, nothing more than this. In an hour or two, I plan to strip you naked and do things that will curl your hair.”
“Mmm. But I mean in the future. Unless you’re independently wealthy, eventually you’re going to need a paycheck. What will you do to get it?”
“Don’t know.”
“You don’t want to ranch.”
“Nope.” He nuzzled her hair back from her ear and brushed a kiss across it, making her shiver, but she refused to be distracted.
“And you don’t want to be a cop.”
“No.” Another light kiss, more fluttery sensations dancing through her body.
“You have a college degree. It wouldn’t be difficult for you to get certified to teach.”
“School?” He snorted. “I couldn’t wait to get out of it, and you’re suggesting I go back and put other kids through the same torture I went through?”
“It’s different when you’re on the other side of the desk.”
“If it’s so great, why aren’t you doing it?”
Truth or lie? She’d lied to him before—told him she didn’t like kids. She could repeat the tale now, and if he believed her, fine. If he didn’t, that was fine, too. Or she could remain silent. She doubted he would consider her not answering much better than lying, but morally it was an improvement.
Instead of straight silence, she opted for a subject change. “I bet you didn’t really hate school. You were a jock, weren’t you?”
“Football and track.”
“And you were handsome. I bet all the girls had a crush on you.”
“Enough of them.”
“And you probably charmed the teachers and made good grades.”
“Usually. All that aside, you couldn’t pay enough to get me into a classroom again. When I have to work, I’ll probably take that job my dad’s been offering. Mending fence, hauling feed, castrating, branding, breaking up ice in winter…”
“With that kind of enthusiasm, you’ll last a whole week or so.” And then he would go back to being a cop. As Reese had said via Lexy Marshall, being a cop wasn’t something you did, it was what you were, and Jace was a cop. For whatever reasons, he liked pretending otherwise at the moment, but he could avoid the truth only so long. Someday he would put the badge and the gun back on, and he would be satisfied once more with his life.
Knowing that brought some small bit of satisfaction into her own heart.
Off to the northwest, lightning flashed across the sky, jagged lines briefly appearing, then disappearing. When Jace had turned on the evening news at six, the weather guy had mentioned a ninety percent chance of thunderstorms that night. Maybe that colored her impression, but the air seemed heavy with a sense of expectancy—hot, unnaturally still, broken only by an occasional breeze that fluttered the leaves and carried a fresh, damp scent with it. Of course, every breeze coming across the lake carried a bit of dampness with it, but this one felt different.
Or maybe she just wanted it to be different. The way she wanted everything in her life to be different.
The silence between them had gone on forever when Jace finally, quietly, spoke. “You’re planning to leave soon, aren’t you?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
His arms tightened around her. “Promise you won’t go without giving me a chance to change your mind.”
Though she smiled, it felt as phony as she had become. She needed to clear her throat to answer, to ease the tightness there and in her chest, to blink away the moisture suddenly welling in her eyes. “Okay. I promise.”
But she lied.
Chapter 12
The storm took its sweet time moving in. The lightning flashed more frequently, followed only occasionally by a rumble of distant thunder. The wind freshened enough to make sitting on the deck comfortable when it blew, bearable when it didn’t. Heavy clouds spread across the sky from horizon to horizon, blocking the stars and the moon, turning the night into varying degrees of shadows.
Jace knew Cassidy had lied to him when she’d made the promise—had felt it in the subtle tensing of her muscles, the catch in her breath, the unsteadiness of her voice. She had lied and he had accepted it as truth. Had pretended to accept it.
If she wanted to leave, he really couldn’t stop her. Short of stealing her keys or keeping her handcuffed to the bed, all he could do was ask. Argue. Plead. Tell her he loved her.
And risk finding out that didn’t mean nearly as much to her as it did to him.
Maybe he and his love weren’t such a prize. Amanda sure hadn’t been willing to settle for just that. Neither had Julie. Odds were Cassidy wouldn’t, either, and damn if he hadn’t had enough rejection to last a lifetime.
And damn if he could face a lifetime without her.
As he considered the bleakness of that prospect, the sound of an engine filtered into his brain. It came from the south, making it a vehicle and not some late-evening boater. Where the road forked, angling to the northeast to go to Cassidy’s cabin or to the northwest to reach his, the engine came toward his.
A moment later she became aware of it and tensed again. “Are you expecting company?”
“Not really.”
“What does that mean?”
“When you’re not available any other way, people sometimes drop in unexpectedly.”
“Because it’s the only way to reach you. Your father said you had to get over the idea that your cell phone was for your convenience.”
He smiled faintly. He’d used the cell phone more in the past few days than in the past six months combined, making regular calls to Reese for updates on the fingerprint request. Every time he’d gotten the same answer—nothing yet. He wanted good news, wanted to hear that her fingerprints weren’t on file, that she wasn’t wanted by any cops anywhere.
Bad news…well, it would be better than not knowing. At least then they would have a place to start on making things right.
As headlights illuminated his truck, the yard and Cassidy’s cabin, Jace lifted her to her feet, stood and walked toward the far end of the deck. She stayed behind, leaning against the house in the shadows, nothing more
than a shadow herself. Was she afraid? he wondered. Ready to bolt over the railing and disappear into the night?
The headlights went dark and the engine quiet as Reese got out of the Blazer.
“Hey, bubba,” Jace greeted him. He didn’t look over his shoulder but pitched his voice louder. “It’s just Reese, Cassidy.”
“Just Reese?” his cousin repeated. “Jeez, thanks a lot. And after I drove all the way out here just to see you.”
The board in the middle of the deck squeaked when she stepped on it, then she stopped next to him. “Hi, Reese.”
“Cassidy. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I, with you two sitting out here in the pitch dark?”
“We’re just watching the lightning,” Jace replied. He kept his voice even and casual, as Reese did, but his gut was knotted. His cousin wouldn’t have come all this distance without news…without bad news? Would he have simply called for good news?
“So what brings you all the way out here?” he asked.
“I got tired of talking to your voice mail this evening, so I thought I’d try for the real thing.” Reese moved around to the front of the two trucks, then gestured. “Cassidy, can I talk to him alone for a minute?”
“Sure.” She grabbed an armload of dishes, maneuvered the screen door open, then went inside. A moment later lights shone through the windows and music came from the stereo.
Jace walked down the steps, then followed Reese to the footbridge. “We’ve been outside all evening. I haven’t checked messages,” he said by way of an apology. He opened his mouth to go on, hesitated, took a breath and finally asked, “You got an answer?”
“You look like you don’t want to hear this.”
Jace shrugged. What he wanted had ceased to matter the afternoon he’d lifted that glass from Cassidy’s kitchen.
“The news isn’t particularly good or bad. The prints came back not on file.”
Jace would have been happy with a rush of relief, but it didn’t come. There was just a faint easing of tension. Regardless of her real name, she’d never been arrested and fingerprinted. That didn’t mean she wasn’t wanted—didn’t mean she hadn’t committed some crime. It just meant so far her fingerprints hadn’t been connected to any crime.
It really didn’t mean much at all.
“Now what?” Reese asked.
Jace rested his hand on the silvered rail cap and stared into the smooth water of the inlet. “I don’t know.”
“Do I arrest her?”
“For what?”
Without looking, Jace knew Reese’s expression was incredulous. “Hell, I don’t know. That little stash of bogus driver’s licenses, maybe? How about registering her car under a fake name with a fake address? That’s enough to earn her a cell at the Canyon County Courthouse.”
“We don’t know the car registration is fraudulent.”
“Oh, come on, Jace…does she look like a Linda Valdez to you?”
“Watch it, bubba. That remark could be construed as racist. Linda’s a common name, and Valdez could be her married name.”
“Okay, so you think, to the exclusion of all the other names she’s used, Linda Valdez just might happen to be her real name. Why the fake address?”
“Are you sure—”
“It’s an empty field. It’s been an empty field for ten years. Before that, it was a warehouse.”
Reese didn’t repeat his earlier question, but it hung between them. Now what?
His options were limited. He could turn a blind eye to the felonies he knew about, ignore any he hadn’t yet uncovered and ask Reese to do the same…except that while he might manage, he had no right to ask Reese to. He was the sheriff of this county, sworn to uphold the law. There was some room for discretion, but not enough for Cassidy to wiggle through. Asking Reese to show that much discretion would change their friendship forever.
He could stand back and do nothing while Reese arrested Cassidy and took her to jail.
Or he could try one more time to get the truth from her, then go from there.
It wasn’t much of a choice.
“Let me talk to her,” he said at last. “Are you working this weekend?”
“I’m on Saturday. Brady’s got it Sunday.”
“I’ll bring her by your office tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Reese started to walk away, then turned back. “Whatever she tells you…don’t let her leave.”
The warning he left unsaid was clear. Don’t become an accomplice because you’re sleeping with her. Don’t compromise yourself because you love her. Don’t forget you’re a cop. It’s not what you do; it’s who you are.
Once a cop, always a cop.
And Cassidy might pay the price for that.
Silently they walked back toward the cabin. At the foot of the steps, Reese clapped Jace on the back, but said nothing as he went to his truck. Jace stopped on the deck and watched him leave, then took a fortifying breath and went into the cabin.
Music still played, something low and bluesy and sexy—something belonging to Cassidy. Only the bulb over the sink was on, though dim light flickered through the open bedroom door. The ceiling fan in the living room turned, and more faintly came the whir of the box fan in the bedroom window.
He was supposed to talk to her, he reminded himself. Ask hard questions. Force hard answers. Make her trust him with the truth. But if he walked through that door and found her anywhere near his bed, talking would be the last thing on his mind. And since there was nowhere in the bedroom that wasn’t near his bed…
Taking the first step was tough. The second came easier and brought with it the faint fragrance of something sweet. The fourth stride took him right to the door, where he stopped and just looked. The flickering light and fragrance came from the same source—candles on the nightstands and dresser. They smelled like a dessert served in an expensive restaurant, something rich and extravagant and, like the music, they were hers, too.
She was near the bed, all right, standing beside it, wearing an old tank top of his that threatened to become indecent with one good breath. She didn’t appear to be breathing, though. Just standing. Watching. Waiting.
The sight was instant-arousal material, with the white ribbed-cotton brushing her breasts, skimming over her belly and falling just past her hips. The shirt hung low on her, revealing the rounded sides of both breasts, the thin fabric clinging to her nipples. If she moved, one breast or both would be exposed. If either narrow strap slipped an inch farther, she would be naked. Standing there, lit only by candlelight, her blond/brown hair tousled, her brown/blue eyes shadowy, her long, long legs exposed, she was the most incredible sight he’d ever seen.
Her smile was faint and shy. “What did Reese want?”
“Who?” he asked blankly, then blinked. “Oh…Reese. He…I don’t recall.”
The smile grew stronger, less shy, more womanly, as she raised both arms to encompass the room. “I hope you don’t mind…”
The tank top slipped over her left breast, then caught, covering her nipple but nothing else. The blood rushed from his brain, making his body fiery hot, making his arousal throb painfully. “M-m-mind…?”
“Inviting myself in. Making myself at home.” She lowered her arms, then turned to fold back the top sheet on the bed before sitting on the mattress. She was all light against the navy blue of the sheet, long and willowy, revealing and concealing, tormenting. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move—could only stand there staring and wanting so badly he would beg, plead, forgive anything, forget everything.
As he stared, she lay back on the bed. The tank top rose to the tops of her thighs, the fabric fluttering invitingly thanks to the fan. He kicked off his shoes, pulled his T-shirt over his head, then undid each warm metal button on his cutoffs before sliding them and his briefs down his hips. He sat on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and rested one hand on her knee. “You look…” No surprise—words failed him. They were all there in his head—beauti
ful, incredible, hot, sexy, amazing, enticing—but he couldn’t give them voice, so instead he showed her.
He removed the tank top one excruciating inch at a time, kissing her, stroking, rubbing, suckling, licking. The air in the room grew heavier, hotter, damper and slicked their skin with sweat. All sound faded away until there was only Cassidy’s whimpers, his own groans, their ragged breathing, all underscored by rumbling thunder moving slowly toward them. He settled between her thighs and made her gasp, cry out and go as taut as a bow string, then she knelt between his legs and chased every coherent thought from his mind with her long, lazy kisses and tormenting caresses. Finally he rolled a condom into place, raised himself over her and slowly, as lightning brightened the room and thunder shook the walls, slowly sank inside her.
The storm struck full-force, the wind whipping through the trees, the fan drawing the cool, clean smell of rain into the room. The rain beat against the roof as he thrust, long and hard and deep, inside her. Thunder vibrated through the cabin as her groans vibrated through him, as her body clenched tighter and tighter around his.
He came, and was dimly aware of her own orgasm, and then he came again, fierce shudders knotting his muscles, making him go rigid, forcing his breath out in short desperate gasps. Unable to support his weight any longer, he collapsed against her, feeling her own convulsive shivers, hearing her own greedy gasps.
They lay like that for minutes, maybe hours, until the sweat had dried, their breathing regained some sense of normalcy, their hearts were no longer pounding. He summoned the energy to move off of her, lay beside her and rested his arm heavily across her, then met her gaze in the lightning-illuminated room. “Tell me one true thing.”
He hadn’t curled her hair, but it had taken Cassidy a good long while to uncurl her toes. She lay on her back, barely breathing, not sure she could move to save her life, and gazed at the ceiling. Outside the thunderstorm was still raging. Inside…she felt safe. Protected. And scared by Jace’s request.
She had lied to him from the day she’d met him…but never when he’d asked for one true thing. She could give him something as simple as the line from a song that had popped into her head—“I just died in your arms tonight”—and satisfy his request.
One True Thing Page 22
