by Diana Fraser
“You’re crazy tonight, Cassandra.”
Cassandra turned to meet his look. She was surprised. She’d never seen such an unguarded expression of warmth on his face. She’d always known it was there, deep inside, but so hidden, even from himself.
“I feel as I’ve been freed. But I’m not crazy—well, only about you.” She moved closer to him, watching as a flicker of emotion cross his face. “And only for tonight.” She added, knowing his fear.
Her face was close to his and she parted her lips in invitation. He sat back and thrust the keys into the ignition.
“Later. Be patient.” He turned to her, a light smile playing on his lips. “God knows what I did to deserve you.” He shook his head. “But I thank him for the day you walked into my life.”
Trembling with unfulfilled need, Cassandra smoothed her dress and sat back. God knew and so did she. And, at some point, so would Dallas. And when he did, he would never want to see her again. The thought was sobering. It was all she needed to recover from the lust that had threatened to overtake her.
“You OK, Cassandra?”
She summoned up a smile. “More than OK. But, you’re right. Perhaps I am just a little crazy tonight.”
The car thrummed into life under them as he turned the keys. “I love crazy.” He began the slow drive down the twisting road. “But we have to go to the opera. We promised Bill. But I want you more than a little crazy when we come back home. And I’ll make sure of that. I’ll have you so hot that you’ll by putty in my hands.”
“First mistake, Dallas. I rather think you’ll be the one who won’t be able to wait.” Her hand languidly trailed down his thigh. She smiled to herself as the muscles in his leg tightened in response to her touch.
“We’ll see about that,” he growled, accelerating sharply onto the highway.
Dallas tried to concentrate on the weather conditions, work, anything to take his mind off the trail of heat that Cassandra’s fingers had left. Just as well she’d taken her hand away. Any longer and he’d have had to pull over.
“Talk to me.” His voice was a low growl.
“Anything in particular?”
“Anything at all. Anything to keep my mind off how I want to take you back to the house and take that dress off you. Try telling me why you changed your mind. Why you decided to make yourself my exceptionally personal, Personal Assistant.”
“It’s a woman’s prerogative, to change her mind.”
He risked a glance at her under a passing street lamp. She wasn’t as light-hearted as her response suggested.
“Come on. We’ve only worked together for a couple or months but, in that time, I know you don’t act on whims. You’re considered, responsible, ethical. What’s changed?”
Silence greeted his comment. He could sense a shift of mood as they overtook a stream of cars on the two-lined highway, before emerging from the hills into the Wellington city, its open harbor spread before them.
“Ethical?” Her voice was barely audible above the hum of the car.
“Of course. It’s a part of you. Everything you’ve done in the business has been based on integrity and honesty. I can assure you I’ve noticed. Honesty is a rare commodity in my family. My father anyway.”
“Tell me about him.”
“He was a liar, a drunkard and a bully.”
“And that’s why you don’t drink alcohol?”
“Of course. I’m too much like him.” He couldn’t help the bitterness creeping in. “And without the alcohol I reckon I’m less likely to be a liar or a violent bully.”
“Dallas, listen to me. With or without alcohol, I cannot, for one minute, imagine you lying, cheating, bullying, whatever. It’s just not in you.”
He snorted. “You don’t know me Cassandra. You think you do, but you don’t. Stay clear. If you’re still interested in tonight, in the now, then I’m your man. But there is no long-term future for me with you, or for me with anyone.” He paused before revving the car to pass a lorry. “I can’t risk it.”
Her hand cupped the back of his head in a fleeting caress that was achingly loving. Instinctively he tilted his head back to allow it to fall into the cup of her hand, but she was gone. She edged her body towards him.
“You’re so afraid.” The words were hushed, in tones so slight and gentle that they reached into his heart, striking at the core of who he was. He could only shake his head abruptly. He couldn’t trust himself to speak immediately.
“You don’t know me, Cassandra. Don’t presume to think you do.” His fist banged the steering wheel in frustration and anger. He regretted the outburst as soon as it had erupted. A glance confirmed that Cassandra had turned aside, was focused on the traffic they were speeding by.
“You see,” he could feel his voice tight with control now. “It’s never far away. My temper is there, waiting and I don’t trust it. And nor should you.”
“I’d trust you with my life.”
He met her quick glance, her eyes as calm and serious as her voice.
He shook his head. “Don’t, Cassandra. Don’t go there. I can’t do it.”
“Just because you don’t have faith in yourself, doesn’t mean that others can’t have faith in you.” She twisted in her seat to face him. “Look Dallas, I’ve been with you day after day, and some nights too, for months now and I’ve seen you in every situation. You may have been angry, but you’ve always controlled it. And even if you did give vent to it, I trust you. You wouldn’t harm me, or anyone else.” She turned to face the oncoming road. “It’s other people you shouldn’t trust, not yourself.”
Unwanted emotions of longing, confusion and, yes, fear, swamped Dallas as he drove, foot flat against the floor, skimming through the stormy night down into the Wellington harbor basin. He barely registered the spray of the sea as it pounded the motorway, drumming against the roof of the car. The rhythm of the windscreen wipers, slapping away the fierce rain, barely intruded on his thoughts. Only the movements of the woman beside him penetrated his brain: the woman who knew how to move him physically and emotionally and challenge his own deep-rooted notions about himself. She, alone, occupied his mind.
The wet tires screeched as they pulled up in the undercover car park.
Dallas hadn’t yet spoken and Cassandra deliberately didn’t break the silence.
He needed time to come to terms with the fact that he was driven by fear—until then he would never be free to be himself. But she couldn’t help him make that journey. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him but she knew that her love was of no interest to him.
She shivered and pulled her wrap more tightly around her body as Dallas opened the car door. Silence fell around them, deep as the hurt she knew she’d inflicted.
She stepped out the car and reached up to touch his lapel, her hand flat against his heart. She wanted to reach out, show him that he wasn’t alone, that there was someone who cared very much about the real Dallas Mackenzie.
“I meant it Dallas. You’re not your father.”
He gripped her hand tightly in his own. “I am as I am, Cassandra. And there’s nothing to be done about it.”
“That’s enough for me.”
He dragged her hand away and kissed it, pulling her closer to him with his movement. “Good. That’s all I want too—you, tonight.”
He embraced her lightly, running his hand down her back, mussing her hair with his lips. She closed her eyes as sadness overwhelmed her. She knew one night would never be enough.
“That’s what you want too, right?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, simply relishing the feel of his hand, pulling her towards the exit with a purpose that echoed the strength of her own needs.
A wall of warm air and noise hit them as they entered the foyer of the theatre and made their way to the ticket office. She'd always loved opera, even as a young child she’d been moved by its larger than life sounds and sights.
While Dallas talked with the box office
clerk, Cassandra looked around. The modern theatre was spacious and light with fine acoustics. People greeted each other loudly and sipped from elegant champagne flutes. Cassandra recognized some establishment figures—politicians and leading businessmen—and yet other trendier groups who led the Wellington art scene and made it the cultural capital of New Zealand.
At the feel of his touch on her back, she turned to see him frowning.
“Looks like we have the box to ourselves tonight. Bill’s taken ill and isn’t coming.”
“He seemed fine yesterday. I hope he’s OK. Should we go to see him?”
“He doesn’t want us to. He’s left a message with the clerk. Just a sniffle, he said. It’s not like him though.”
Cassandra couldn’t tell whether Dallas was pleased or not to be alone with her. “It’s OK. I don’t bite.” She smiled at his quizzical look. “Not in public anyway,” she couldn’t help adding, trying to lighten mood.
She was rewarded with a curve of his lips and a spark of humor in his eyes.
“I wish I could say the same about myself. Come on, let’s have a drink.”
As they walked through the crowded foyer, Cassandra wondered if it was possible for Dallas to enter a public building without being greeted every two seconds. Wellington was a small city and Dallas appeared to know everyone in it. Anyone who mattered, that was.
But Dallas steered clear of joining any of the groups. Politeness didn’t enter his vocabulary and Cassandra had to smile, pleased for once at his arrogance. He was a man who knew what he wanted and didn’t waste time on things that didn’t matter. And it seemed that, for now, she mattered to him. And looking at his tall figure, dark, commanding, distant to everyone else but her, she knew that she was where she wanted to be. He had a past he couldn’t rid himself of, just as she did. She just hoped that hers wouldn’t catch up with her before the night ended.
“Dallas! Cassandra!” Guy and Lucia, his friends from Onihau, greeted him warmly.
“Dallas! You’ve been keeping a low profile of late. What have you been up to?” Lucia kissed them both on the cheeks.
“Just business, as usual.”
“Is that right, Cassandra?” Lucia asked, disbelieving, turning her away from Dallas and Guy for a more private tête-à-tête. “If it’s been just business, then business seems to really agree with you.” She took a step back, surveyed Cassandra’s appearance and laughed appreciatively. “What’s work to some is pleasure to others, I guess. Anyway, good to see you looking so well.”
“Never better Lucia. Look. I’m sorry about my over-reaction at your party.”
“No. It was my fault entirely. I should have kept my eye on the little critters myself. But not having any ourselves—not yet anyway—I just didn’t think. But you did though, didn’t you?”
Cassandra nodded and took another sip of wine, hoping she’d change the subject. Lucia’s thoughtful expression made her uneasy.
“Do you have children?”
Cassandra’s heart sank. But there would be no more deceit. She nodded. “Once I did.”
Lucia’s hand came around her shoulders. “Aah, I see. It all makes sense now. Does Dallas know?”
Cassandra shook her head and smiled a little, trying to reassure Lucia.
“OK. I won’t say anything.”
They turned back to the men.
“Dallas, I hear James is returning to New Zealand. Is that correct? Can he really have had enough of New York?”
A cold shiver ran down Cassandra’s spine. She’d met James briefly in Boston after he’d been sent by Dallas to sort out a few things with the company. It had been an accidental meeting and she’d refused to stay. But he’d remember her if he saw her again. She just hoped that when he heard her name he didn’t make any links with one Sandie Carstairs, formerly of Boston.
“He’ll be here for a while setting up a new business in the South Island. How long he’ll stay is anyone’s guess.”
“When will he be arriving?” Cassandra voice seemed softer than the others, betraying her nerves.
“In a few months.”
Good. She’d be gone by then. The thought sent a confusing blend of relief and sadness through her.
“Well,” Lucia said reaching across to kiss Dallas on both cheeks, “it will be good to see him again. He’ll bring an element of sophistication back to the Mackenzie clan.” She smiled. “Don’t look at me like that, Dallas. You know you’re not in his league when it comes to smooth-talking and charm.” The smile turned into a laugh and she turned to Cassandra. “Is he, Cassandra?”
Cassandra looked up at him and held his gaze. She wasn’t laughing. “No. No smooth talk. No charm…”
Heat flashed through her body as his eyes seemed to devour her. She didn’t know how long their gazes had been locked until Lucia touched them both on their shoulders and inclined her head to theirs. “You two should get a room.”
The bell sounded to indicate the performance was about to start and Lucia and Guy disappeared to their seats.
“A room, Cassandra?”
She tilted her head to one side, basking in the blatant innuendo in his few words. He wanted her and just needed the signal. He’d have to wait.
“The box, Dallas.” She grinned as the look in his eyes only intensified behind the control he put in place. She’d enjoy watching him lose that control. Later.
The news that James was returning—albeit after she’d left—had cast a shadow over Cassandra. And Dallas had registered the change. She was aware of his concerned glances. He could obviously sense that something had happened, that something had taken the edge off her excitement.
She sat back and closed her eyes, ostensibly to better listen to the music. In reality, to come to terms with the realization that her time was short. She couldn’t be here when James arrived. She had no doubt that he’d recognize her, even if her name meant nothing to him.
The music changed. A woman’s strong contralto soared out into the theatre, filling every corner with emotion. She snapped her eyes open. Dallas was no longer sitting facing the stage. He’d shifted his seat so that he sat facing her. His gaze was stern, frown lines furrowed between his eyes which were dark and unreadable. But she could read his body language all right. He was angry.
“What is it Dallas? What’s the matter?”
“I’ll find out, Cassandra. I’ll find out what you’re hiding from me.”
“There’s nothing—”
“Don’t bullshit me woman.” The cold anger in his voice shocked her. “I know you. Like I’ve never known anyone before in my life. I feel you.” He was furious: furious and frustrated because his feelings had overtaken his control. He screwed his hand into a fist and banged it onto her arm rest. He leaned over her, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I feel you, Cassie. You must know it.”
The singer’s voice rose as if it came from inside Cassandra and she felt her strength and power flow through her. She pulled up Dallas’s fiercely clenched fist to her face and pressed her lips up hard to it.
His head dropped down, away from her face and she could feel his anger dissipate.
“Dallas?” She knew what she wanted and she wasn’t prepared to wait any longer.
He looked her directly in the eyes. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m going to show you. It’s all about now, remember?”
He stood up, turned his hand within hers and grasped it firmly, pulled her to standing.
Wordlessly, without facing her again he pulled her out of the box and along the corridor towards the exit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They ran through the rain-lashed streets of a deserted Wellington. With no coat, it was only moments before Cassandra was soaked through. But she felt nothing but heat: heat that came from within and from without, flowing from Dallas, his hand still tightly in control of her own.
Breathless, she glanced at him. He looked oblivious to the rain that ran in rivulets down his face and
back. His dark hair was streaked darker by the rain and the shadows of the night were reflected in the stark planes of his face.
Within minutes they were at the Mackenzie Building and for the first time since they were in the theatre, Dallas turned to Cassandra. But not to speak.
His mouth was upon hers, invading and ravenous. All the desperation that had been apparent in their run through the streets came together in that kiss. Their combined need had roared from the slow simmer, that had been repressed for so many months, to become a raging fire that only gathered momentum with each passing minute and could only be expressed through each other. Their bodies were pressed tight against each other, their mouths and hands and legs shifting, moving, enveloping each other. Both needed to consume and be consumed.
Finally they parted. Dallas let go of her body and stood back, breathless. Cassandra could see the force of effort it took for him to focus. He looked around, as if dazed and patted his pockets.
“Where’s my damn security card?”
She slipped her hand across his chest and plucked it from his inside pocket and grinned. “Here—”
He cut her short with another stormy kiss before swiping his card.
The private entrance bypassed the security guard and the cameras and they stumbled into the softly lit lobby, Dallas carrying Cassandra, his hands beneath her bottom, as her legs wrapped around him. His tongue exploring her breasts through the sopping wet dress.
He backed into the wall but couldn’t reach the elevator button. She stretched out her leg, pulling herself closer to him in the process, and kicked the elevator button with her foot.
His lips left her breast for a moment. “Thank you.”