Pretend You Love Me

by Stacia Wolf

  The thing was, she did want to go. Anywhere with him, if only to prolong this strange feeling of closeness. But she knew it couldn't last. No man ever did.

  As she expected, once out of sight of her family, he dropped her hand like a scalded cat. She sighed her disappointment.

  "Boy, you're kind of dense, Cass. It took you forever to catch on back there.” Mike's glance held censure, and her anger bloomed full force.

  "Considering that this is the lamest idea you've ever had, why would you think I'd catch on? This is worse than most of the stunts I've pulled. Do you honestly think we fooled anyone with that pathetic display?"

  "Are you calling my kiss pathetic?” His brows arched up in challenge, and Cassie realized he'd cornered her. If she admitted that she enjoyed the kiss, he'd gloat. If she claimed it sucked, then he'd either call her a liar or set out to prove her wrong, which might lead to another kiss.

  She'd turn into a panting, mindless sex maniac if that happened. Wonder how he'd feel with a Delistraty wrapped around him?

  She took a safer path. “It was all right."

  She didn't need to see him to feel his disbelief. Or to recognize the teasing note in his voice. “All right? Lady, that was a Mike Ashford special delivery kiss. No woman's ever been able to resist it, and I doubt you're an exception."

  Cassie snorted. Hiding a grin, she said, “Boy, do you need your ego popped. Why haven't I seen this side of you before?"

  They reached the bar area, where Ernie and Kendra were. Mike stopped, obviously not wanting to be overheard. “Because I've never treated you like a woman before. Not that I'm going to start now,” he added quickly. Much too quickly for her taste. “You'll always be Cassie to me. But hey, anything to bail you out."

  His attitude irked her. He still didn't see her as a woman, even after that incredible kiss. Either he was made of stone or he lied through his eyeteeth.

  "I didn't need bailing out,” she said. His disbelieving look increased her irritation. If he didn't find her attractive, fine. But how dare he doubt her!

  Mike leaned close to her. “You know, Cal's right. Emotionally, you're all over the place. You say you don't want a guy, but then you dress like this.” His eyes swept over her way-short skirt and her breasts straining out of her push-up bra. “You obviously don't know what you want."

  Yes, I do. I want you. She couldn't tell him that she'd worn these clothes on a whim, with him in mind. So instead, she looked like a crazy female who said one thing and meant another. Face it, I've dug myself a deep hole here.

  "Cass, right now you're obviously going through a lot, and ‘dating’ me will give you time to think things through, get your head on straight. It has to be better than being forced into a date by your mom. I'm perfectly safe. I won't try anything."

  Cass wanted to throttle him. How humiliating. A pity relationship. “Listen, pal, I've been handling my mother and brother for almost thirty years now, and I've done quite well, thank you. Your little act in there didn't help; it just made things worse. How am I going to explain to my mother that you were lying, without it getting back to your mother? Did you think of that? What possessed you to do such a thing?"

  * * * *

  Cassie's words kick-started his brain. Mike latched onto her first question.

  Mike Ashford feared nothing—not fire, not floods, not even Cassie's sharp tongue. No, he didn't cringe at anything.

  Except his mother.

  Petite, thin, with short-cropped, silver hair, Jessie Ashford seemed such a soft, mellow woman. Until someone, usually her children, didn't listen to her sage advice, lied or did anything to harm her daughter or her son. She tolerated nothing that violated those three simple rules.

  And Mike had just violated two. He'd lied, and he'd gotten involved with Cassandra Delistraty, something his mother had warned him not to do for decades.

  The Delistraty's didn't belong in their world, Jessie'd told her son the first week after Cassie's family had moved in next door to them almost twenty years ago. A social princess who'd inherited the middle-class house next door, Lucia would someday return to her own kind. When she did, Jessie didn't want her kids hurt or demoralized when their ‘friends’ turned their backs on them. Someday, Jessie predicted, Lucia's father would forgive her becoming pregnant by a ‘lowlife’ and she'd return to the upper echelons of high society. His mom obviously held something against Lucia, although Mike had never known exactly what.

  Mike hadn't listened to his mother where Cal was concerned. The two'd become fast friends, and even when Jessie's prediction came partially true fifteen years ago and Lucia and her father had reconciled, they'd remained friends. But he'd taken to heart her words concerning Cassandra. Friendship was one thing. Love was something entirely different.

  Yes, he'd be in deep water with his mom. Lucia still lived next door to his folks and would probably drop this tidbit on his mother's lap. The two women barely tolerated each other. Lucia's reaction of disbelief would be nothing compared to Jessie's outrage.

  Well, he'd irritated her before and survived. He'd deal with her reaction when the time came.

  Cassie's last question sank in. What had possessed him to help her? Was bailing her out his only motivation? Or had he stupidly given in to his attraction to her?

  No, it had to be a knee-jerk reaction, brought on by two decades of bailing her out of all the crazy trouble she got into. Like the time she'd egged the mayor's house when a teenager curfew had been enforced. She'd almost ended up in jail for that one. And when she'd rescued some bums from the cold by hiding them in the girls’ locker room at school.

  He caught Kendra watching them and inspiration hit him. He could cure her crush on him with this ‘relationship.’ Talking to her hadn't worked; she'd just smiled and kept coming on to him. Seeing him with Cassie could cool her off. Maybe if Cassie thought he had something to gain, then she'd agree.

  However, looking at Cassie's beyond-irritated face, Mike knew it wouldn't be easy to persuade her that his plan would work.

  But he had to. Right now it seemed vital.

  He thought of that kiss. He'd never been so jolted by anyone's touch before. How could one ordinary pair of lips be so soft, so seductive, as to make him forget everything but her?

  Damn, but he had it bad. Could he get any more pathetic?

  "So we're agreed?” Cassie's voice, which he suddenly realized hadn't stopped, cut through the fog around his brain.

  "What?"

  "Mike, you haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

  He bristled. “Of course I have.” Well, technically he'd heard them, but realistically he couldn't remember them.

  Cassie huffed. “I doubt that. Just to be on the safe side, I'll hit the highlights for you.” Crossing her arms, she tipped her head back and looked him in the eye. Even with her spiked heels, he still towered over her. He liked that, made him feel more masculine.

  "First, you confess to my mother that you were trying one of your misguided rescues again—you know, like the time you tried to stop that mugger from taking Mrs. Rawlins's purse on that field trip, and ended up with a fat lip and a concussion."

  "And what was I supposed to do, stand by and let that guy beat up the teacher?"

  "That's not the point, Mike. The point is that you have this need to save people, and it gets you into trouble. Like today. I didn't need rescuing, yet you jumped in and did it anyway. You can't help yourself, can you?"

  He wanted to wipe that smug look right off her face. “If I hadn't done something, you would've found yourself on a hot and steamy date with Kyle."

  Cassie scowled, and he pressed his attack. “Face it. If you don't do something quick, your mom and brother are going to go all out to find someone for you. Could be Kyle is the best thing they can dig up."

  "Point made.” Cassie shuddered. “Personally, I think that you're afraid of telling your mother you lied."

  How well she knew him. “Of course I'm afraid. What sane person wouldn't be?
"

  Cassie laughed. “You have a point."

  Realizing that customers were piling up at the bar, Mike decided to cut this short. “Okay, here's the deal. You don't want to date any ‘Kyles.’ Someone has a crush on me that I need to nip in the bud. So this'll help both of us. We'll play it up for a while, then we can break up, which'll give us another few months of peace while we ‘lick our wounds.’ In the meantime, we flirt in public, pretend to be the perfect couple, but in private we're just friends. Deal?"

  Cassie's smile turned naughty. Not a good sign. “I'll agree to the first part, since it gets my mom off my back for a while. But that last one? No way, Boy Scout. You started this pressure cooker. I'm going to enjoy turning up the steam."

  With a small gurgle of laughter, she bounced upwards, her mouth finding his with unerring accuracy. Her lips lingered for a moment, but before he could react, she pulled away. Brushing one ruby red nail across his cheek, she smiled up at him.

  "Consider that a sample. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?” She pulled away and headed for the door.

  "Tomorrow?” What was she talking about? His nerves still jumped from that brief kiss, and her tantalizing, mind-numbing touch to his face. “What about tomorrow?"

  "Boy, you are a mess, aren't you? You told my mother we had a date, so a date it is. See you at eight!” With a mocking wave of her slender hand, she sauntered out of the bar.

  Tomorrow. Mike raked his hand through his hair. He'd said that right after he'd kissed her. He hadn't been thinking. Spending more time with Cassie, especially with her drive-Mike-insane attitude, was the last thing he needed.

  He had nobody to blame but himself.

  Yes, he'd definitely started up a pressure cooker, and if Cassie had her way, he'd be the main course.

  * * * *

  Cassie pulled into her driveway and clicked on the garage door opener. Her tiny Victorian-style home overlooking Lake Washington was dark. She needed to get one of those timers she mused, so she didn't come home to pitch blackness.

  As she tapped the gas pedal, a figure emerged from the shadows behind her. Her heart jammed in her throat before he neared the taillights and she recognized him.

  Her father. Darn him, he did this to her all the time. Living around the corner, he often walked over to see her.

  Jake Prescott, a weary brown-haired version of Cal, waved at her. He flashed a smile as he followed her into the garage. He always seemed tired, faded and perpetually sad, even when he laughed. She couldn't remember a time where he didn't wear his loneliness like a cloak. She never quite understood why he still pursued her mother, considering she'd rejected him for over thirty years now.

  She pasted on a carefree smile for him, never wanting to burden him with her troubles. Funny how she felt her mother to be stronger than her dad.

  "Hi, Dad. What brings you over?” She swung out of her vintage candy apple red 1957 T-bird convertible. She loved this car, the only remnant of her marriage. She also had a more practical Toyota Camry, but tonight had felt like a T-bird night.

  Her dad grasped her hands and pulled her into a large hug.

  "It's good to see you, girlie.” Still holding her hands, he stepped back, taking in her short skirt and pink top. “That's some outfit. Wearing it for anyone in particular?"

  Cassie started to shake her head, realized it would be a lie, and smiled instead. “I guess I did. I wanted to tweak someone."

  He grinned. “I'm thinking you tweaked him but good, wearing that.” He let go of her hands and waved her toward the door. Snatching her purse from the passenger seat, Cassie toddled on her heels up the few steps into her house.

  Her house. How she loved the living room, with its pale green walls and vintage oak floors. It felt cool and inviting.

  With yips of excitement, all three dogs rushed at her. Ruff and Tidbit, her two tiny male Pomeranians, danced happily around her, landing kisses before dancing away to greet Jake. Suzy, the small Chihuahua-Pom mix, let out a tiny howl, then pranced toward Cassie's outstretched hand.

  Crouching, Jake petted the two males, chuckling. “I'm always afraid I'll step on one of them,” he said.

  "Don't worry, Dad. They'll stay away from your big feet."

  He held out a hand to Suzy, who'd never quite warmed up to anyone but Cassie. She sniffed at Jake's hand, then stretched herself up against Cassie's leg in a plea to be picked up.

  Cassie scooped her up, to be rewarded with a lick on the chin. She laughingly moved her face out of the way. Plopping on the couch, she smiled up at her dad.

  "So what's up?"

  Jake sat down, allowing Ruff to climb up on his lap. He raked his hand over the long black fur a few times before replying.

  "I got a garbled message from Mike on my cell, something about your mother dancing on a pool table? I called Cal, and he told me he was on his way, so I stayed scarce."

  "Wise move. Wish I'd done that.” Cassie filled him in, debating on whether or not to tell him about Mike's farce.

  Finally, since she knew she could trust him, she let him in on the secret. “Please don't tell anyone,” she said. “You don't know what it's like having Mom barge in, trying to fix what she thinks is a problem in your life."

  Jake snorted. “I don't? Baby, your mom's always held that she knows what's best for everyone, up to and including me.” His smile faded.

  "Aw, Dad.” She covered his hand with hers. Her heart ached for him. In many ways, even though she'd never changed her last name to his, like Cal had, she felt closer to him than to her mother. “I wish she'd give you a chance.” Her father's sadness sank into her, and she hugged him. For a moment, father and daughter leaned into each other, garnering strength.

  Jake straightened up and patted her hand. “It's taken thirty years, but I think it's time for me to move on. There's this woman at work...well, she's always flirting with me. It's nice to feel wanted.” He worked in the county assessor's office. Quite different from her mom's career as an interior designer.

  "Dad, I don't know what to say about Mom. She's never kept you out of our lives. She just doesn't want marriage."

  Jake's face hardened. “And I need that. I know she doesn't think I really love her, that I propose to her more out of obligation than love, but you know that isn't true. But I'm almost fifty now, and a few nights here and there when Lucia's in the mood isn't how I want my life to be."

  Okay, more information than she wanted. “I wish I knew what to say. I don't know what's right for either of you."

  He stood up, went into the kitchen and retrieved two beers she stocked just for him. He popped the top off one and handed it to her. Sitting back down on the couch beside her, he opened his and took a deep swig.

  Setting the beer down on her marble coffee table, he said, “I'm not asking for advice, not really. But this year's rejection really stung me. Do you know what she said this last time? ‘You think this is a joke, don't you?’ Then she shut the door in my face. She didn't even let me in the house."

  Ouch. Her mother could be brutal.

  "You really need to pick a better day on which to propose, Dad. That one's really lame."

  Jake frowned. “It's the anniversary of our first date. I've proposed on that date for the last thirty years."

  Boy, he just didn't get it. “Dad, it's April Fool's Day. Kind of takes the significance out of any proposal, don't you think? Can't you pick another day, like the anniversary of the first time you made...err, the best date or something? Give Mom one last shot, but make this one a show of how serious you really are. Pour it all out, and if she rejects you, then give up.” She placed one hand on his arm. “Maybe she's not able to care deeply enough, Dad. Remember the Delistraty curse."

  Jake snorted. “I've never believed that garbage. That's just an excuse some old women came up with to explain their loose morals. Your mom's capable of very deep feelings. Trust me on that one."

  He picked up his bottle and gazed at it. “I'll give your idea some thought. Might be a
ble to come up with something. Now, back to you and this Mike thing.” His eyes lifted to her face. “Honey, are you sure you want to do this? You've harbored feelings for him for years. Don't try to deny it. I was the one who called you to tell you that he'd been hurt, remember?"

  Yes, she remembered. Two years ago, Mike had fallen through a roof and was in a coma from the injuries that would end his career as a firefighter. She'd wanted to rush to his side, reassure herself that he'd be okay, and to...what? Confess her love for him if he'd been dying? No, I don't love Mike. It's just a stupid crush.

  "You need to rethink this,” Jake said. “You could end up being hurt."

  His words slammed into her already skittish heart. But she bore the impact. “It's time I got him out of my system, and sometimes a good inoculation is all that's needed, right?"

  Raising an eyebrow, Jake frowned. “Sounds good in theory, but in practice it's going to be pretty tough on you.” He raised one hand to ward off her words. “No, I understand. You have to try. But baby, be honest with yourself. Are you doing this to get over him, or in the hopes of him falling for you?"

  Cassie couldn't answer that one. She didn't know herself what her reply would be.

  Setting down his empty bottle, Jake kissed the top of her head, then stood. “I'll see you later, honey."

  She didn't follow. This was their routine, repeated every few nights. “'Night, Dad.” She listened to him crossing to the front door, the dogs’ tiny claws clicking after him.

  He opened the door and set the lock, then said, “Don't forget to set the deadbolt.” She smiled, as she always did, assured him she wouldn't, then silence engulfed the house as the door closed.

  Mike. Was she really playing with fire? Considering the four-alarm heat in his kiss, getting burned certainly could happen. A shudder of need vibrated through her. Wowza. Just thinking about him aroused her.

  Getting burnt definitely had some good points.