"Maybe," she answered at last. "But I've certainly never been kissed by one with a bigger chip on his shoulder." She scrambled off his lap with as much grace as she could manage. "Try it again if you ever decide to get rid of it."
Something flashed in his eyes that she couldn't name, something deep and pained. But it disappeared quickly, as every trace of genuine emotion seemed to with Dar, except perhaps anger. There was plenty of that evident in him, and Cassie was more convinced than ever now that it had very little to do with his legs.
"Cassie," he began, and for a moment she dared to hope he was going to let that mask down. But he stopped as something caught his eye, and she sighed in frustration at the sight of the sheriff's patrol car pulling in behind them.
"We'll keep an eye on the house, but we can't be here all the time," the deputy said.
Dar watched Cassie nod. "I understand that," she said. "You'll watch Sean's house, too? But not let them know?"
She was so determined, Dar thought, to not only keep her family safe, but to save them even the slightest bit of worry. Admiration sparked through him again, along with a sense of wonder about what it must be like to take such feelings for granted.
The deputy nodded. "I've got the address right here." Cassie had told Dar that this Deputy Thorne—an older, world-weary-looking veteran whose dark hair was cut severely short—was the same man who had taken her report on the letter. He had been professional but not very encouraging then, she'd said. He seemed to be convinced now.
"You're sure you can't positively ID him as this Willis character?" Thorne asked.
Cassie shook her head. "I was too startled to get a really good look. And with that bulky jacket and those sunglasses … I just couldn't be positive."
"Who else would it be?" Dar said, a bit testily; it seemed obvious to him.
The deputy looked at him and nodded. "I'm sure you're right, and that it is him, Mr. Cordell. The progression from the letter at Mr. Cameron's office, then the break-in there, apparently for this address, and then a man who generally matches the description showing up here is pretty apparent. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean much to a judge. Not without a positive ID from the victim."
"I'm sorry," Cassie said. "He was the right height and his hair was the right color, but…"
"I know it's difficult when it happens so fast," Thorne said kindly. Then he turned to Dar again. "Do you think he was hurt when you clobbered him with the door?"
Dar shifted in his chair, for the first time since the deputy had arrived feeling a bit uncomfortable. Was he going to get in trouble over this? Sometimes the world seemed screwy enough for something like that to happen.
"I don't know," he said at last.
"We can but hope," Thorne said wryly. He gave Dar an appreciative glance. "Nice move, by the way."
Dar relaxed at the words. He'd liked Thorne's approach, in more ways than one. After he'd checked the house thoroughly and coordinated a search by other deputies in the area, he'd gestured both Dar and Cassie over to the walkway outside the front door, where a two-foot-high planter ran along the edge of the path, and suggested Cassie sit down and stop pacing. He then sat down himself and took out his small notebook. Dar wasn't sure if he'd intentionally arranged it so that they were all seated; if he had, he'd done it so smoothly it didn't matter.
"I just wondered," Thorne continued, "if perhaps he might be injured enough to have to seek treatment. I could have a call put in to the local emergency rooms, in case he shows up."
"I don't know," Dar repeated. "He was hobbling a bit when he left, but not that badly."
"I'll have them call, anyway." Thorne looked at Cassie then. "If it is this man, then I think you need to consider that his actions are escalating."
"I know," she said, sounding so bleak Dar felt a strangling tightness knot up in his chest.
"I'd suggest you not stay here," the deputy said.
"I'd already decided that."
"Good. You need to find someplace safe, while we try to find this guy."
Cassie laughed, a short, rueful and decidedly humorless sound. "He found me in Denver. He found me here—"
"A hotel, maybe," Thorne suggested. "Use a false name."
"And a damn good disguise," Dar put in dryly. "There's no way she wouldn't be recognized otherwise."
Thorne gave Dar a considering look, then nodded. "Good point. And people talk, when they've seen somebody famous. It's human nature."
"So I'm supposed to … what?" Cassie asked sharply. "Go into hiding? Move into a hotel and stay in my room alone, living on room service or something?"
"It was merely a suggestion, Ms. Cameron."
She leapt to her feet and began to pace again. "All because some … some irrational fan has developed this fixation on me? I'm supposed to let him run my life? I'm supposed to grant him that kind of power over me, just because my work puts me in the public eye?"
Her voice was rising, and Dar saw the tension rising with it as she turned and paced back toward them. "Cassie," he said softly.
She whirled, and he braced himself for a sharp retort. It never came. She simply looked at him, then slowly sank back down to sit on the edge of the planter.
"I'm sorry. I just…"
"I understand," Thorne said sympathetically. "It's not only frightening, it's infuriating."
"Yes. I don't want to live like that."
"No one does. Is there anywhere else you could go? Someone you could stay with, so you wouldn't be alone? Someone no one else would know about, with no traceable connection to your family?"
The moment Thorne had begun to speak, Dar had known he was in trouble. Big trouble. And as the man went on, it only got bigger. Because there was only one obvious choice that met the criteria Thorne was so carefully laying out. Him.
There was no paper trail that would lead from Cassie or Chase, or even from Sean to him, not like the article that had mentioned her brother, or the files in the office that also contained information on Sean. He'd maintained that distance between himself and the world so well that very few knew—or cared—that he had any contact at all with the Camerons or the Holts. He wished now that he'd hung on to that distance a little harder, a little more thoroughly; this emotional turmoil was too damn unsettling.
But it was academic now. He hadn't hung on to that distance; he'd let Sean and his family batter down his walls, had let them into his guarded life. And now look what it had gotten him: smack in the middle of the biggest threat to his hard-won equanimity that he'd ever faced.
He risked a glance at Cassie, who was staring down at the walkway. "I could go to New York," she said slowly, "and stay with Dana—" She broke off, shaking her head. "No, that wouldn't work. She's my closest friend, and she was mentioned in the same article that mentioned Chase. He'd know that. I couldn't risk anything happening to her."
"There must be—"
"She can stay with me," Dar said abruptly, cutting Thorne off in his desire to get the inevitable over with.
Cassie's head came up sharply, surprise evident in her face. Thorne looked at him speculatively.
"I got the impression you're connected to the Camerons," he said.
"Friends," Dar admitted. "But that's not … general knowledge. Sean, too, but…" Damn, this was hard to explain. "I don't … deal with people much. Not many people know who my friends are. And there's no traceable connection, like you said."
"Hmm."
It was carefully noncommittal. And nonjudgmental, as well. Dar felt his respect for the man go up another notch, and that made it easier to go on.
"My place is pretty isolated. North of town, by one of the lagoons. It's a converted warehouse. Doesn't look like anybody would live there. And the road is partly graveled, and noisy. You can't get there without me knowing it."
"You wouldn't be talking about the old marine-hardware warehouse off the Coast Highway
, would you?" Thorne asked. "I heard somebody bought that three or four years back."
"Sounds ideal, Ms. Cameron. And you wouldn't be alone. I think you should consider it."
Cassie looked a little stunned. "But he … I…" She shook her head. "He doesn't mean it."
Thorne drew back slightly, his gaze flicking from Cassie to Dar, then back. "He sounded like he meant it to me. He's obviously thought it out—"
"I meant it, Cassie," Dar added, a little embarrassed.
She looked at him. "You don't want me there, you know you don't. You don't want anyone there."
He couldn't deny that, so he didn't try. "Normally, no. But these aren't normal circumstances."
"It sounds like the perfect compromise," Thorne said. "For your own safety, and that of your family, Ms. Cameron, I urge you to think about it. But whatever you decide, be sure and let us know where you are."
Cassie merely nodded, and Dar knew instinctively that she was agreeing only to let them know where she ended up. His guess was confirmed the moment Thorne left, and Cassie lifted her head to look at him.
"Thank you for the offer," she said. "I know it wasn't … easy for you to do."
He didn't see any point in denying that, either. "No. It wasn't." For reasons I hope you never know, he thought, fighting a rush of heat once again as he remembered the feel of her mouth on his. "But I meant it."
She held his gaze. "Why?"
"Like he said. It's the perfect compromise. You can have the bed, or the couch isn't too bad to sleep on."
"That's not what I meant," she said, in a tone that told him she knew perfectly well that he had known that. "Why are you helping me?"
There was no way he could explain it. He wasn't even certain he knew all the reasons himself. So he fell back on the easiest, the most obvious.
"You're Katie's—"
"Aunt. Yes, you've said that before."
"And Chase's sister."
She continued to look at him, assessingly, eyes narrowed. Chase's eyes, Dar thought suddenly, as they must have looked before life had given him that hard edge that made people think twice before they crossed him. Not that Dar thought Cassie was naive—she was too smart for that—but she looked softer somehow. Like someone who led with her heart, and whose lessons had been learned because of that trait.
"That's the only reason?" she asked at last.
Her eyes were also much more readable than her brother's, Dar thought wryly as he saw in them the same memory he had just battled down, of that unexpectedly hot kiss in his van. No wonder she was hesitating.
"If you're worried about what happened in the van a while ago, don't," he said, sounding a little grim but unable to help it. "It won't happen again."
She looked away then. "No, I suppose it won't."
She sounded almost … regretful about it. Which convinced Dar he wasn't so adept at reading her, after all; that was hardly likely.
"We can pick up your car on the way. And put it in my garage, out of sight."
She shook her head. "He's seen your van. He's never seen my car, that I know of."
Was she agreeing to stay? Dar wondered. Or just considering? "Okay," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "We'll leave your car out, then, and keep the van hidden."
She looked up at him then. "Dar, are you sure about this?"
No, he thought. The only thing he was sure of was that he was probably making one of the bigger mistakes of his life.
"Yes," he said. "It's the only thing that makes sense."
Still she hesitated. "I don't want to impose—"
"Just don't gripe about sharing the bathroom. I've only got one."
Her mouth quirked. "I've shared a bathroom with three other models, all of whom needed at least two hours to prepare to set foot outside. Don't worry about it."
Dar's brows rose. "Two hours?"
"Minimum."
"For what?"
"Shower, hair, makeup, nails—" she waved a hand "—girl stuff."
Dar shook his head in amazement. He'd never shared space with a woman before, not for any length of time, and it was foreign ground to him.
"Guess I'd better make sure I get in first," he said wryly.
"Oh, I don't take that long," Cassie said. "Half an hour when I'm not working. Even when I'm working, I only take an hour, and half of that is drying this mop." She grabbed a wad of her hair, giving it a disgusted look.
"So cut it."
"What? Cut the Cassandra mane, my trademark?" she said, sounding so exaggeratedly aghast that he knew it was mockery. "Why, the world would grind to a halt."
It was so good-natured, and so obviously directed at herself, that he found himself smiling. She smiled back at him, and he had to look away.
"Let's get your stuff," he said.
She hesitated, and he knew she hadn't decided yet. He made himself look at her again.
"It's all right. It'll only be until they find this guy, or he goes away. Or until you decide you can't put up with me and go to that hotel."
"Or you do," she said. "It's only fair to warn you that I tend to leave empty glasses all over."
"I leave towels around."
"I take my shoes off and leave them wherever."
"I don't."
She went very still. Her eyes searched his face. Then, after a moment, she nodded. "Well, that would be silly. Why bother to take the shoes off when you're going to take the feet off, anyway?"
"Exactly," he said solemnly.
At the same moment they both laughed. And as he watched her eyes twinkle with it, Dar knew that he had underestimated the size of this mistake. And wondered just how much he was going to pay for making it.
* * *
Chapter 8
«^»
"We're going to have to tell Sean."
Cassie, her feet curled up under her on the sofa, looked at Dar over the rim of her glass. "What?"
He grimaced; when he'd made the offer, he'd forgotten about this little detail. "He tends to drop in now and then."
Cassie turned her attention to the soda remaining in her half-full glass as if it were suddenly the most fascinating sight she'd ever seen, "Unannounced?"
Dar shifted in his chair, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "Well … yes. There's never been a reason…" His voice trailed off as he realized how much he'd revealed by that answer. Hastily he went on. "But now that you're already here, maybe he won't feel like he has to—"
"Why do we have to tell him anything?" Cassie said, swirling her drink as she interrupted his words.
"If he comes over and you're here, he's going to wonder why."
"Not necessarily," she said, her expression unchanging.
Dar gave her a perplexed look. "What's that mean?"
She shrugged. "He won't be surprised. He thinks I have the hots for you, anyway."
Dar stared at her. "He what?"
"You heard me. He even warned me off."
"He what?"
She gave him a sideways look. "'Leave him the hell alone,' I believe were the exact words."
Dar felt himself flush. But before he could think of anything at all to say to that, Cassie was speaking again.
"But he didn't say you were dating anyone. I wouldn't want anyone to be hurt, thinking you and I were … an item."
Dar's stomach knotted, but Cassie didn't seem to notice his sudden tension. Although she had seemed before to be perfectly able to read him, she was acting suddenly blind now. Or else she didn't care.
"So," she went on, "he won't be surprised to find me here. He'll just think I ignored him and moved right in with you."
Moved in with him? Dar felt his jaw tighten, then realized that virtually every muscle in his body—every muscle—had already been tight since the moment she'd said Sean thought she had the hots for him. He stared at her, sitting there on his couch, her impossibly long legs clad in tight white jeans. She wore a soft, fuzzily touchable-looking sweater in a pale green that made her hair look almost black, her eyes vividly emerald.
The insanity of it all was the only thing that enabled him to croak out a response.
"And you mean to … let him believe that?"
She stared down at her glass. "I don't want to tell him about Willis," she said determinedly. "But if it bothers you to have him think we're … involved, I'll think of something else to tell him."
"Bothers me?"
He knew he sounded incredulous, but couldn't seem to help it. He was feeling more than a little stunned, and he didn't know if it was from her willingness to let it be believed, even by Sean, that they were intimately involved, or by the very idea itself.
"Yes. If you're worried about what people would think…"
People would think, he said to himself bleakly, that she had lost her mind.
He wanted to ask where Sean had gotten such an idea. His friend knew that Dar had seen Cassie only that once, at his wedding. Dar wanted even more to ask if there was any truth to it. He didn't have the nerve to do either. Even if she said it was true, he doubted he would believe her. She made her living being perfect, and she dealt with perfect people, perfect men in particular. He was far, far from that, in many more ways than the obvious one. So he settled for a question that seemed safe enough.
"Do you really think he'll believe it?"
"Why wouldn't he?"
There were so many reasons why, he couldn't begin to enumerate them all.
"What if he tells your brother?"
Cassie lifted her gaze from her glass then and gave him a quizzical look. "Afraid he'll come beat you up?"
Dar flushed again. "No. But…"
He let his voice fade away. How could he tell her that he'd do just about anything to avoid Chase being mad at him? He admired Chase—and respected him—more than anyone he knew. He knew Chase at least respected him in turn, and he didn't ever want to jeopardize that.
As if she'd read his mind, she asked softly, "Do you really think he'd mind, if it were true?"
THE MORNING SIDE OF DAWN Page 10