by J. R. Ward
Alex rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. I do. He was my partner and my friend.”
“I thought you would come to the funeral. When you didn’t, that’s how I knew you were really injured.”
“I just couldn’t be there. I heard it was a beautiful service.”
“It was. He would have liked it. All the people. The speeches. He was loved by so many. I can’t tell you the number of letters I got from all over the world. He seemed to have friends everywhere.”
There was a long silence. Then Alex asked, “How are you getting along without him?”
Cass pushed a piece of chicken around her plate. “Okay. The adjustment is slow.”
Alex looked at her strangely.
“Is that the wrong answer?” she murmured.
“No.” His navy blue eyes narrowed and he considered her with the full force of his intellect. Which made her feel like she was under a spotlight. “I guess I just expected something different.”
“The my-life-is-over response?” she said sadly.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Cass put her fork down and moved her plate away. “Reese meant a lot to me. So of course I miss him.”
But her life was not over, and somehow that felt like a betrayal, almost equal to his with the other women.
“You know,” Alex said, “he used to talk about you all the time. On the boats. When the work was done and the crew was sacking out, he would sit in the cockpit with me and talk about you.”
“Really?”
“Why are you surprised?”
Because if he’d really loved me, he wouldn’t have needed the other women, she thought.
God, why was she just figuring this out now, when he was gone?
Then again maybe it did make some sense. Reese had been like a Klieg light, brilliant, distracting, gathering fanfare around him. Between keeping up with him and working, she’d had little time for reflection. And maybe she’d liked that.
“He used to talk about you, too,” Cass said. “He used to tell me about all the things you did, how you handled things. He respected no one more than he did you, Alex. He used to say you were the brother he never had, the son he didn’t get and the father he lost too soon.”
She glanced up. Alex seemed to have retreated into himself, tension suffusing his face, darkening it.
“I am none of those things,” he muttered.
“To him you were. And I have to say, I always felt badly for his son, Daniel, because of it.”
“How old is D.C. now?”
“He’s almost thirty. He’s inherited the businesses and I think he’s going to do very well. Sean’s going out of his way to help him. The three of us had dinner before I came here and it was clear how much D.C. is capable of absorbing. He’s very smart.”
Alex drained his wineglass and nodded at her plate. “Looks like you’re finished.”
“What—oh, with the food. Yes, I think I am.”
Alex pushed back his chair and got to his feet. When he started to clean up, she said, “I’ll get all this. Don’t worry about it.”
He nodded and flipped open his cell phone. A moment later he said, “Hey, man. Got time for a pickup? Yeah? Thanks.”
While she let the dog in and cleared the table, Alex disappeared into the laundry room. Ten minutes later, he came out with a duffel bag. His timing was perfect. A pair of headlights swung around the drive.
“When’s Libby getting home?” he asked.
“Later. She said her brother likes to talk.”
“You going to be okay here all by yourself?”
“Yes. Yes, thank you.”
He lingered for a moment by the door. “Good night, then.”
* * *
Alex waved Spike off and let himself into the shop. The fire had burned down in the potbellied stove, so it was cold. He restoked the embers and sat on the bed, but a minute later he was outside, carefully walking over the lawn to the lake. The snowstorm had arrived, thick flakes falling in the cold night air. The chilly wind blowing off the water whittled away his clothing and seeped into his skin, going deep into his bones.
Reese meant a lot to me. So of course I miss him.
Alex stepped out onto the dock, moving cautiously so he didn’t slip.
Her words had not been those of a heartbroken woman, he thought. And her tone had been flat. Factual.
Somehow he’d assumed she’d be a wreck.
He looked down at the churning water, a cold spray hitting his legs as waves jumped at the dock and splintered.
He told himself he should be impressed that Cassandra was moving on. New lover. New project. Soon, a new home. He was sure Reese would have approved of her making a fresh start.
But that was yet another reason why his friend had deserved her and he didn’t. If Alex had been her husband, he would have wanted her to mourn him every day for the rest of her life. He would want her to be as ruined as he’d be if he lost her.
And didn’t that make him a real prince.
He stared at the lake until his body grew so cold his large muscle groups started twitching to generate heat. He went back to the shop and shook the snow out of his hair. Then he stripped naked and put on a fresh pair of socks. When he was settled on the bed, he shut his eyes.
Images of Cassandra came to him in the darkness. He pictured her eyes, green as fresh June leaves on a maple tree. He saw her tongue coming out for a little lick after she’d finished drinking. He recalled those black leggings stretched over her thighs and hips as she bent down to pet Ernest.
Alex’s body came alive, lust chasing away the lingering chill. He grew heavy and hard between his legs, aching for her.
He rolled over and punched his pillow. The sheets shifting against his arousal made his jaw clench, and when he arched his back to try and release some tension, the heat rose even further. He pictured her lying beneath his naked body, her red hair in a wild tumble over his pillow, her skin so soft against his. He imagined being joined with her, going deep and sliding free only to plunge in again. He felt her grabbing on to his back as he drove his hips, heard his name on her lips as she climaxed.
Afterward, he saw himself holding her and watching her fall asleep.
Alex cursed in the darkness. The bastard in him just refused to let go of her. Even with all his guilt, even with the horrible knowledge of what he’d done, he couldn’t control the visions or the hunger.
But he could make himself pay.
Lying in the dark, he opened himself up to the pain of wanting what he couldn’t have, knowing he deserved every last bit of what ailed him.
On the twin bed that was too small to hold him, he suffered and was glad for it.
Chapter Seven
A week later Cassandra parked the Rover at White Caps, grabbed her clipboard and headed for the house. As she passed by the Dumpster, she noted it was time for a pickup. Especially as they were going to tackle the Sheetrock removal in the dining room next.
Just before she went into the house, she looked up at the shop.
A big shape moved out of the picture window.
Alex had been watching her. Again.
He seemed to do that each time she came and went, and he always ducked away when she glanced toward the barn.
After their dinner together, she really wanted to reach out to him, she just wasn’t sure how. Though if she was honest, she didn’t only want to have him talk more about his grief. She wanted to learn other things about him. The glimpse she’d had of the man underneath the legend had been captivating.
So was the idea that he was warming up to her a little.
As Tim’s truck came down the drive, she waved.
“Mornin’, boss,” he said as he got out. Lee and Greg were right behind him in the Trans Am. Then Bobbie pulled up in his truck.
The morning flew by, and when three-o’clock quitting time got close, Cassandra was exhausted from ripping out all the bathroom mirrors and vanities upstairs. She headed down to the kitchen and found the men clustered aro
und a stubborn cabinet section they’d been trying to get free for the past week. They referred to the thing as Chunk, and when they weren’t cursing at it, they were paying respect to its death grip on the house.
Chunk notwithstanding, the crew had done great work, and if they kept up this pace, she could have the plumber and the electrician start ahead of schedule. Re-piping and re-wiring White Caps was going to take some time, and with Christmas and New Year’s coming up, they were going to lose a good ten days.
During the holidays everyone was taking a hiatus from the project. She was going back to Manhattan; the men were going to enjoy time off with their families. She told herself it would be good to get away because she’d been working long hours and not sleeping all that well. But she wasn’t in a big hurry to leave the lake.
Her first Christmas without Reese, she thought. Her first birthday without him, too.
He’d loved surprising her with extravagant birthday presents on New Year’s Eve, always trying to top himself. The culmination had been the year before. For her thirtieth, he’d rented the Metropolitan Museum of Art for the night and they’d strolled around the galleries arm in arm until they’d ended up in front of a table set for two. She’d been thrilled, thinking they’d spend a quiet evening together in front of her favorite Rembrandt, but then people had burst out into the room, friends and business associates of Reese’s, all wishing her a happy birthday.
She’d told him that she’d loved it, of course. Because that was what he’d wanted to hear.
God, she’d kept so much from him, hadn’t she?
“Ah, boss?”
“Sorry, Tim. What was that?”
“We gotta real problem with Chunk.” He pointed to the corner. “The back’s bolted into the wall, and we can’t open it to get in with wrenches, because the firemen jumped all over the thing. We tried taking the doors off, but the hinges are all bent and the crowbar’s not getting us anywhere.”
Cass looked the cabinet over. It was directly across from the blown-out window in the alcove.
“Tim, how good’s the traction on your truck?”
“The best. She’s sporting a V8 under the hood and I got the chains on.”
“Good. Back your beast around. I saw some rope in the barn. We’re going to liberate Chunk.” She jogged outside and bypassed the shop, using a door that went directly into the barn. Weeding through the machines, she found the thick, coiled length she’d tripped over that first day and dragged the dead weight through the snow back to the house.
Ten minutes later they had the rope wrapped around the belly of the cabinet.
“Run this out to your truck, Tim. When I give you the signal, I want just a little gas. Keep it light or we’ll shred the wall. All we need is to strip the screws so the thing’s detached, okay? We don’t want to pull it out onto the lawn.”
Tim smiled. “I got a soft foot. Don’t you worry.”
“Wait for my signal.” She looked over at Lee, Greg and Bobbie, who were taking bets on whether Chunk or the Ford F-150 was going to win. “Stay back, boys.”
She whistled and got out of the way. The rope tightened, strained and the cabinet was gently ripped from the wall. She waited until it was far enough out and whistled again. The rope went slack.
“Perfect.” She reached down to untie the cabinet as the men high-fived each other.
She glanced up and smiled, only to see Alex standing in the kitchen’s doorway. Furious.
“Tell your men to leave,” he said. “Now.”
The crew fell quiet as she got to her feet. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Or we’re going to do this in front of them.”
Cass frowned, but before her mouth could jump ahead of her brain, she checked her watch. It was quitting time, anyway.
“Okay.” She nodded at Tim. “Great work with your truck. Thanks. Listen, let’s just leave this until tomorrow.”
The guys glanced at Alex. Looked back at her.
“You sure about that, boss?” Tim said, staring right in her eyes.
“Yes. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As car doors were shut and engines started, she and Alex stayed quiet, the tension flowing between them like the blue arc of a welder.
When the guys had pulled out, she said, “You want to tell me what that was all about?”
“What the hell are you thinking?”
As if the source of his ire was so flipping obvious? “I’m not a mind reader, Alex. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
He jabbed his finger to the floor. “Using this rope.”
You’ve got to be kidding me, she thought. He gets territorial over a thirty-foot coil of nasty, dirty rope? Sure, she might have asked him, but the damn thing was no worse for wear.
She rolled her eyes and stepped past him. “You can have it back. We’re finished.”
As she bent down and started gathering the thing up, he grabbed her arm and snapped her body to his. Her ponytail swung around and landed between them.
“Did you think what would have happened if it broke?”
Cass pulled against his hold. Got absolutely nowhere. “It was strong enough.”
“Luck, not planning.”
“Will you let go—”
“I saw a man lose an eye when a rope just that size snapped on a mooring. Caught him right in the face. He thought the damn thing was strong enough, too.”
“I was standing—”
“Not far enough away.” He jerked her even closer. “Now, listen up. You’re the contractor, not one of the workmen. I want you to cut it out with the hands-on stuff.”
Cass took a deep breath before she told him to shove it. “Look, Alex—”
“You’re not picking up another hammer. Or a crowbar. Or so much as a nail. Do we understand each other?”
Not in the slightest, she thought. No way was she going to stand for this heavy-handed, macho steak-head power trip of his.
She rose up on her tiptoes so she could get in tighter with his eyes. It was like using a step ladder to get level with a rooftop, but at least she made it to his jawline.
Her tone was hard. “You want me on this job? Fine. Dandy. Good. Then I’m in charge here, not you. You got a problem with the way I handle things? Fire me and get someone else.”
He leaned down, his face so close to hers they were almost kissing. “Do you really want me to can you? Because I will. In a heartbeat.”
They glared at each other, the air crackling.
He lifted her hand by the wrist. Twisting it around, he inspected the black-and-blue mark on the back. “How’d you get this?”
“None of your business.”
“How many others are there? And where?”
“Listen up, big man,” she said in a low voice. “Over the last week, I’ve stripped three bathrooms, taken up a thousand square feet of hardwood, disconnected dozens of electrical sockets and removed countless lights. If your point is that I’m a klutz or I don’t know what I’m doing, you’re dead wrong. The men have contusions and cuts, too. It’s part of the job. A job I’m damn good at, by the way.”
His eyes stared down at her, the irises so dark they were nearly black. She expected him to cut her to shreds with that sharp tongue of his and she was prepared to meet him head-on with some choice slices of her own.
Instead he stayed quiet until she was ready to jump out of her skin.
She couldn’t stand it any longer.
“So are you canning me, or what?” she demanded. “Because if you aren’t, you need to remember something. This is not your boat. I’m the boss here. If you can’t handle that, then don’t come into White Caps again until the project’s finished.”
His eyes narrowed even further and she thought he was going to kick her out on her butt, she really did. He was that angry.
And then all the emotion sucked out of his face, as if he’d opened a drain somewhere. The self-control struck her as eerie and intimidating.
&n
bsp; He dropped her arm and stepped back. “I’m sorry.”
She released the breath she’d been holding. “I don’t take unnecessary risks. Truly. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“You’re right. Because you’re not my problem. Or my responsibility.” He walked over to the door. “Thank you for reminding me.”
As the plastic flap fell back into place behind him, Cass felt as if she’d been dropped at the side of the highway and abandoned. Which was nuts. She didn’t appreciate his chest-thumping routine, so why should she feel let down when he cut it out?
Not my problem.
She closed her eyes.
Funny, what bothered her most was the reminder that he saw her as nothing more than an irritation. After the dinner they’d had, she’d thought she might have broken through to him just a little.
Clearly, she’d been wrong.
* * *
Alex forced himself to stay away from the house for the whole week. He figured it was a good idea to give them both a chance to cool down.
Cassandra was right, of course. It was her job, her crew, her profession. He had no right to stick his nose into her business. God knew, if someone had come onto his boat and tried to tell him what do, he’d have tossed them overboard in a heartbeat. All things considered, she’d handled the intrusion a lot better than he would have.
Especially given the number of power tools she’d had at her disposal.
The thing was, he hadn’t been thinking clearly at the time. He’d gone down to the house because he’d been unable to stay away any longer and he was curious about what they were doing with the truck. He’d walked into the kitchen, caught a quick glimpse of her about five feet from that straining rope, and he’d totally lost it. What he’d wanted to do was take her into his arms, but that would have been inappropriate. So he’d yelled at her instead.
Something that was equally uncalled for.
The sound of truck engines turning over had him looking at his watch. Three o’clock. The men were leaving for the weekend.
Picking up his cane, he didn’t bother with a coat as he headed for the door. He owed Cassandra a better apology than the one he’d given her and he needed to get the groveling over with.