by Marie Morin
She got in without even considering that he hadn't so much as asked her if she wanted to go with him.
He leaned into the car. “More misunderstandings and problems have arisen from women trying to figure their man out than anything else. It's not that complicated. I'm not that complicated and I don't want us to argue about things I never even thought about. Don't create problems from thin air."
Cassie folded her arms and faced the windshield huffily as he closed the door.
He didn't start the car when he'd gotten in on the other side. Instead, he sat staring out the windshield as she was. Finally, he twisted sideways in his seat and studied her. “I'm sorry I was short."
She glanced at him in surprise, then sucked her upper lip in wryly. “Maybe you were right."
The expression that washed over his face wiped out every other thought. She put a hand out even as he leaned toward her, planting it in the middle of his chest. “What is this obsession you have with my weird nervous habit?"
He settled back, studied her a long moment and finally turned and started the car.
A hollowness settled inside her. “It reminds you of someone, doesn't it?"
His face hardened. “Nothing I did, no one I knew, nothing that happened to me before I met you has anything at all to do with me and you—no more than your past is my business."
Cassie tried not to feel hurt. She knew it was unreasonable. What he'd said was nothing but the truth. You couldn't live your life according to chance future encounters. You had to live it a day at the time, and she had always been a carpe diem sort of person. She didn't believe in giving up chances for happiness that came her way. She never let her fear of the future or the consequences prevent her from having what could be had. As long as she was not, to her knowledge, hurting anyone else, she felt she had the right to enjoy herself.
It wasn't so much that he'd had a past that hurt. It was the fact that he'd slammed the door in her face as if she was a door-to-door salesman, or a Jehovah's Witness pushing pamphlets. And it was the fact that she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she reminded him of someone that had meant a great deal to him.
Whatever Janie said, he wasn't cold. He was mortally wounded and he wasn't about to open himself up for more wounds. The only reason, as far as she could see, that he'd let her in the front door, so to speak, was that she reminded him of that someone that had hurt him so badly.
She knew she must remind him of his wife.
“Are you OK?"
Cassie cleared her throat. “Yeah! I'm fine ... uh ... you missed the turn."
He slid a glance at her. “I figured we'd go to my place ... maybe have a swim."
“I can't. I have to work tonight and I've got to study."
“Call in sick. You look like you've had a pretty rough day."
“Could you, please, just take me to my apartment? Because I really don't want to argue about this. I have responsibilities. I have to work and I have to go to class."
His lips tightened, but he took the next turn and headed toward her apartment. He parked and killed the engine when they got there. “Don't get out,” she said before he could open his door. “I'm sorry, but I'm running late. Thanks for the ride."
Jumping out, she hurried around the car. He caught her on the other side. “Something's wrong."
Cassie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I'm trying to tell you I have a life, too. I wasn't seeing anyone because I've got a lot of things going right now and I just don't have time for a ... a relationship. I could ... I could come over to your place this weekend ... if you want."
He sighed. “I think we need to talk."
She shook her head. “I can't now. I have to go."
To her relief, he released her. She was already in her room, however, before she heard the car start and drive off.
Chapter Ten
It had been a hellish week. By the time she rolled out of her bed Friday morning, Cassie felt as if her spirits had hit rock bottom. As busy as she was with work and classes, she hadn't thought it possible that she could have room for personal feelings. She discovered that she not only did, but they managed to overshadow everything else.
She'd screwed up so many times at work that she'd damn near lost her job. Her tips had fallen off to virtually nothing and the patrons were beginning to avoid her station. She couldn't live off of the salary they paid her at the restaurant. She was going to have to get her head on straight or she was going to find herself on the street.
She hadn't done much better in her classes.
The only bright ray of sunshine in an otherwise armpit of a week was that she not only didn't faint, she didn't even come close. She still couldn't figure out why she'd fainted, not once, but twice, at Professor Severnson's house. She'd been afraid that there was something really wrong with her. The bizarre ‘dreams', or whatever they were, that had accompanied the fainting spells had been almost as disturbing. She'd almost been tempted to break down and go to a clinic.
The operative word was ‘almost', of course. She hated clinics. She hated doctors. She hated medicine, needles, shots, tests—basically, she would almost prefer death to seeking medical attention. Fortunately, she was healthy. She'd never had any serious injury or illness in her life, which was one of the reasons the fainting thing had scared her half to death—the other being that she wouldn't be able to avoid getting within sniffing distance of a clinic if there really was something wrong with her.
That, naturally enough, had been responsible for a lot of her stress throughout the week. It had begun to subside, little by little, as each day passed and nothing more happened.
Her ‘thing’ for Professor Thor Severnson hadn't. She supposed she'd developed a whopper of a crush on the guy. She'd missed the sex, too. She wished she hadn't, but she didn't have a lot of trouble understanding or accepting the way she felt about that. Sex with him had been indescribable. She'd never experienced anything like it. She was doubtful that she ever would again.
It stood to reason that she'd miss it.
It wasn't really reasonable that she'd even have a crush on the professor, especially not one that bothered her a solid week later just as much as it had at first, or maybe even more. She wasn't particularly plagued by the fact that it had been like being hit by a truck. She'd had mad crushes on guys she hadn't even met. Except for the occasional movie idol, however, she wasn't in the habit of getting crushes on guys that were old enough to be her father—maybe even her grandfather.
She'd had friends that had a ‘man’ hang-up. They had the tendency to fall for older guys because they liked being babied. They felt safer and more taken care of, or just purely from admiration because the older men had accomplished so much. She didn't count the ones that were just plain looking for a sugar daddy. This was the ones who honestly thought they were in love, at least until they had the wedding ring on their finger and discovered their old man really was old, and boring, and possessive, and demanding and wanted to run every aspect of their lives.
She'd never numbered among them. She'd never been able to see why they were drawn to older men in the first place, regardless of how suave they acted, how much money they threw around, or whatever. She'd never dated anyone more than five years older than her.
So how was it even possible that she'd developed a whopping big crush on a man everybody said was older than her own father would be if he was still living? It didn't matter that he didn't look like it. It mattered that he was and she knew he was, and she'd had a pretty good idea even before she saw him how old he was. She shouldn't have been susceptible.
After a while, she figured out she wasn't going to be able to talk herself out of it by harping on the age thing. It had no effect that she could see. She was still absolutely miserable. She didn't know what made it worse, the thought that he might have no interest in her beyond taking her on as a student fling and using her as a fuck buddy. Or the possibility that he might decide he wasn't even that interested.
&nb
sp; She had anticipated more of a protest. She'd dreaded it. The truth was, if he hadn't backed off she would probably have been ready to cut and run before many days passed.
He hadn't protested though. She'd said no and he'd gone away.
She hadn't seen or heard from him since, except for the bed that was delivered in the middle of the week, and it had been brought by a furniture company and she'd hadn't even been at home at the time.
She'd begun to dread Friday by Tuesday. Friday, she would know if she'd actually run him off for good or not. She was afraid to know. It was sort of like anticipating electrocution on Friday, she thought. It wasn't pain you could avoid, and you knew it was coming.
If she just hadn't asked him that one little question, she could have gone on in blissful ignorance for weeks, possibly until the crush had run its course and it didn't even matter any more.
It was pathetic, really. She'd never thought she would find herself in the position of being just plain out pathetic. She was twenty three years old. She had a decent figure. She wasn't bad looking. She even had fairly good prospects for her future. Finding herself willing to take somebody else's table scraps wasn't something she'd ever expected that she'd be willing to do. But that was what she was going to be doing if he did come back and she was willing to take up where they left off, scraps. He didn't really like her at all. He wasn't even particularly after her body. That would've been something, at least.
But to have somebody want you just because you reminded them of someone else?
She didn't know why she felt like crying every time she thought about it.
She'd had a two day fling with a handsome professor. She should just mark it down to experience and move on. It wasn't like she'd even considered the possibility that it might go any where. If she had, she would have known it couldn't.
She was tempted not to go home Friday. If she wasn't there, she reasoned, it wouldn't be as bad as sitting in the apartment waiting. She'd actually even considered going to visit her foster mother for the weekend. That's how horribly desperate she felt about it.
Unfortunately, she hadn't made much money because she hadn't been able to get her mind on what she was doing and kept fucking up orders. So, she didn't have the money to light out to see her foster mother—who would probably drop dead from shock if she showed up anyway.
She compromised by deciding to go to the library to catch up on her studies before she went home.
Her tail was just about dragging the sidewalk by the time she got back to the apartment, not from being tired so much as from being purely at the lowest point in spirit that she could ever recall reaching.
Thor was waiting for her in their living room, his face, appropriately enough, looking like thunder. She was so stunned to discover that he was there, waiting for her, she felt almost weak with relief. She must have looked like she was going to faint because Thor's expression changed so instantaneously it might have been comical under other circumstances. He was on his feet, striding toward her so fast that she'd been enveloped by him before she even fully registered that he was there.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, savoring his warmth, feeling a delicious sense of being surrounded by him. The scent of the cologne he was wearing made her knees almost as weak as the man wearing it. “Are you all right?"
She smiled up at him, feeling her chin wobble dangerously. “Yeah. Just tired,” she managed to say.
“You're going....” He stopped. “I came to see if you would spend the weekend with me."
She was so pathetic! “Really?” Even to her own ears it sounded like the enthusiasm of an empty headed groupie. “Uh ... yes, I'd like that. I mean, I don't have anything else.... What I mean is, I don't have to work and I went by the library to catch up on my school work.” The ‘really’ didn't sound as bad as the babbling. “I just need to grab a few things, if you don't mind waiting?"
He shook his head and released her.
“He's been waiting here three hours already,” Janie said dryly. “Why would he mind waiting another fifteen minutes?"
Cassie glanced at her roommate when she spoke. She hadn't realized Janie had been in the living room, entertaining her guest. Janie gave her a look. “Sorry. Like I said, I stopped by the library.” She looked at Thor again. “I didn't know you'd come. Over, I mean. That is, I didn't expect you to come ... tonight. I'll just go get my things."
Janie followed her to her room, contorting her face wildly as she mouthed something Cassie couldn't understand to save her life.
“What?” she whispered.
“How could you do this to me? He's been here a fucking hour!"
“I thought you said ... Oh, you were exaggerating."
“Not by much. He was standing outside when I got back from class. He left for a little while, then came back and refused to leave. Actually, I didn't ask him to leave. I invited him in because I didn't want anybody to see him sitting out in front of my apartment, if you know what I mean. But then I just had to stare at him for a fucking hour because I couldn't think of anything to say and he's been sitting there like a fucking statue anyway.
“Don't you ever do this to me again! If he's coming, you be here. I mean it."
“I promise I won't. I really didn't think he'd come, OK? We, uh, had sort of an argument when he brought me home Monday and I haven't seen him or talked to him since. I'd told him I could see him Friday, but I figured he was pissed off and wouldn't come."
She'd been grabbing things almost at random and stuffing them in her tote bag. She discovered at about the same time that Janie noticed that she hadn't put any clothes in the bag.
“You gonna wear the blow dryer? Or do you have something kinky in mind for it?"
“Funny. I just realized I didn't even think to ask him what he had in mind for the weekend. I don't know what to pack."
Janie snorted. “Most likely what you have there will do for what he has in mind."
Cassie gave her a look. She was hardly in a position to inform her roommate that their ‘relationship’ was on a higher order than that, however. Ignoring the nasty remark, she turned to her closet. She couldn't imagine she'd need anything but casual clothes, though. “He has a swimming pool,” she muttered. “He did mention going swimming."
“You ever done it in a pool?"
Cassie gave her a look. “No."
“Don't try it. Take my word for it. Sounds good, but the water don't act like lubricant except in fairy tales. Swear to god! I used to have baggy knees, but by the time the guy finally gave up trying to stuff me, I had a knee tuck."
Cassie burst out laughing. “I'll keep that in mind, but I don't think he was thinking along those lines. He's too ... uh....” Cassie broke off. The last thing she wanted to do was start sharing confidences with her roommate about the size of Thor's cock. “Conservative,” she finished, digging through her chest of drawers for a swim suit.
She finally decided to bring three. That way she'd have a couple of dry ones in case they decided to swim more than once.
“Well, just don't let him try his ‘conservative’ on you in the pool."
Chapter Eleven
She was a little surprised when Thor pulled his SUV up the circular drive in front of the house and parked in front of the front door. His garage was in the back, separate from the house, and he usually left the vehicle there and came in the back. She assumed he usually did, anyway. That was the only way she'd been in or out of the house.
She wasn't actually waiting for him to come around and open the door. Men just didn't do that anymore. Thor, however, did, and he seemed to expect her to wait for him to do it.
He put his arm around her shoulders as he escorted her up the front walk. “Hungry?"
She frowned.
“You've already eaten?"
“Actually, I was just trying to remember when I ate last. This morning, I think."
“I can whip something up pretty quickly,” he said as he unlocked the door and ushered her insi
de.
“You cook?"
“You're surprised?"
“I think, since I don't know anything about you, that just about anything I learned would be a surprise. But I guess I sort of figured that was why you had the housekeeper. You can't have a great need for one, living here by yourself."
She supposed, upon reflection, that it sounded a little snippy. Either he didn't take it that way, or he decided to ignore it. He walked her to the great room, handed her the TV remote and disappeared. She didn't allow herself the luxury of couch potatoism. It was a luxury, and like any other kind of luxury, it was seductive. The more you indulged yourself, the more you wanted to. Since she hardly had time for a life between school and work, she didn't want to spend what little free time she had glued to the TV.
She turned it on because he seemed to expect her to. After flipping through the channels for a while, she settled on one that was showing a movie, set the remote down and got up to wander around the room. The first time she'd been in it, she'd been too scared to move more than a few steps in any direction. The second time, she'd been with Thor and she hadn't had any interest in anything else.
It was the sort of room a person could wander through gawking for hours, if you were the kind of person who appreciated his type of collections, that is. It happened that Cassie was. She was primarily interested in ancient civilizations, of course, but that didn't mean she had no interest in recorded history.
The suit of armor to the right of the fireplace drew her attention and she moved toward it as if it were a magnet. After five minutes, she was convinced it wasn't a replica, not even an excellent, carefully detailed one. It was the real thing and had been made for a giant of a man. It hadn't been mounted on anything, but was standing directly on the floor and it towered over her. The arms were crossed, propped on a sword that was damn near as long as she was tall. She couldn't imagine anyone waging battle with such a thing.
The sword looked oddly familiar. For that matter, the armor did. She studied it, trying to figure out why it would look familiar. It wasn't like she'd ever seen a set of armor up close. She hadn't even examined this particular suit of armor before.