by Stacia Wolf
* * * *
"Sure, Mike, I'll cover for you tonight."
Rats. His one alibi, shot down. “Are you sure it's not a bother?"
"Nope,” Dave replied. “Can always use the extra money to help with bills. The baby will be here any day now.” Mike could hear Dave's wife say something in the background. “Have fun tonight."
"Thanks."
He ended the call, then sat back on the couch. Terrific. What could he do with Cass for an entire evening?
His body immediately gave him an answer.
He'd be lucky he didn't get boiled in his own juices, especially if she wore an outfit like last night's. Hopefully she'd have some bad traits that'd drive him crazy, like tossing dirty socks on the floor or never refilling the toilet paper holder. Perhaps she picked her nose while driving. Something, anything that'd cool his libido. Then he could get on with his life. Cassie reminded him too much of his ex-wife, Sharon. She'd left him for someone more exciting, who made more money. She'd been like Cassie: flighty, passionate, bubbling with energy.
He shut his eyes briefly. He didn't need to dwell on his ex. Right now he needed to deal with Cassie.
Dancing. He remembered her reaction to her mother's mention of dancing. That might be the ticket; maybe she danced all strange or moved like a stiff stick. That could be a major turn-off. He did like to dance, although his knee couldn't sustain it for too long.
He'd figure out some place other than the Wave to go to, though, since a date on his home turf could be awkward.
Whoa, he had to quit thinking of this as a date. It was an act put on for her family. Maybe being at the Wave would be the best. They could pretend they were out in the open with an established relationship, giving both her mother and Kendra something to think about. Hmm, might not be a bad idea.
He put off calling Cassie just yet. He needed quit grouping Cassie and sex together in the same thought.
Yeah, right. Like he could ever succeed at forgetting that.
* * * *
"That's a terrible idea.” Cassie wanted to shriek into the phone. He wanted their first date to be at the Wave
"Why's that?” Mike's logical voice really grated on her. “After all, we're supposed to be convincing the others that we're a couple, and that means being seen by them. Since your family hangs out there at times, the Wave's a perfect choice."
"Except we're not a real couple. Don't you think that we'll seem a bit awkward together? Couples have a language all their own. How can we fake that?"
"Are you suggesting we sleep together?"
Cassie's hand slipped; the red polish slashed across her big toe. Why did he always call when she painted her nails?
She swiped the polish off with a tissue. He'd said that to shock her, but she'd give him a taste of his own medicine. “That'd be the quickest way to solve our problem."
She heard him sputter. Darn, but she liked getting a rise out of him. If only she could do it literally.
"Not an option.” Did his voice sound hoarse? “But you have a point. About the body language thing.” Nope, darn it, voice sounded normal. “Maybe we could go out for a drink somewhere, talk and devise some sort of plan before we go to the Wave."
"Okay.” Drinks sounded ideal. Maybe seducing him and finding out that the sex sucked might be a good thing.
Hmm. She'd have to mull that one over. Especially before she picked out an outfit for tonight.
As if he read her mind, he said, “Wear something casual. We'd be past the fancy dates in an established relationship."
Cassie couldn't help but smile. Had her skirt last night done some damage to the thick wall he'd built up against her?
Hmm, casual, but able to tear down a man's resolve.
She might be able to come up with something.
She laughed. “I think I can manage that. See you tonight."
* * * *
Mike pulled his Bronco up in front of Cassie's place. The knots in his stomach grew. That laugh of hers on the phone didn't bode well. She loved to flaunt her beauty. If only she wasn't so flighty, so willing to walk away from a relationship.
So much like Sharon.
The only reason Cassie ever gave for her failed marriage was ‘it didn't work out.’ Nothing concrete or that justified the divorce. Those words echoed what Sharon had said when she'd left him, along with a few others, like ‘boring’ and ‘dull.'
He wasn't interesting enough for someone like Cassie. So why did she taunt him? Trying on her new role as a single woman, maybe? Did she have him pegged as her rebound guy?
The thought of him being a mere blip on her radar screen bothered him. Well, he wouldn't play that game. No way would he let her use him to salve her battered ego.
He walked up to the front door, feeling like a man entering a gas chamber. His chances of surviving this evening seemed pretty slim.
Her dogs started barking before he even rang the doorbell. He'd met them when he'd helped Cal move her into the house. Another thing against Cassie. He didn't like little yappy mutts.
The door swung open, and she stood there, a welcoming smile on her face.
"Come on in, I'm almost ready.” She held up a foot, wiggling bare, red-tipped toes. “I need to go find some shoes.” Waving him into the living room, she admonished the dogs to be quiet.
Instead of staring at Cassie, like he wanted to, Mike looked around. “I like your living room."
Cassie glowed with pleasure. “That's right, you haven't seen it since I moved in. I think it's very soothing. I'm glad you like it."
Mike nodded. The decor wasn't quite what he expected from Cassie. He'd thought she'd have gone for bright, bold colors. The soft, peaceful green walls, its rich fabrics and plush furniture exuded elegance and grace. It felt a lot more restful than his stark white apartment above the club.
"I'll go grab some shoes and be right back.” With a smile she headed down the hall. She turned back for a moment. “Don't try to pet the brown dog. She's cranky."
Mike didn't answer; he couldn't. He found himself mesmerized by her curvy behind wriggling seductively as she walked away. A pair of form-fitting jeans, one of those short-legged jobs with the fancy ribbon on the bottom, showed off her shapely calves and those trim, sexy ankles. Her feet were bare and enticing. And that top...okay, it might be casual, but the red top showed too much creamy skin and cupped her breasts so tightly.
Damn. He wanted to follow her right into her bedroom. This wasn't good.
He sat down, and one of the dogs jumped onto his lap. Don't pet the brown one. Did that apply when the dog sat on him?
He didn't like having it that close to his privates. Especially since his groin felt tight from his reaction to Cassie. Gave the mutt too much of a target. Maybe if I just push it away.
"Augh!” The dog nipped his hand when he tried and he leapt off the couch, knocking it off him and onto the floor. All three dogs rushed him, barking furiously.
Rubbing his hand, he snarled at the nasty mutt. The noise level escalated. Before he knew it, Cassie stood next to him, telling the dogs to hush. They all obeyed, except for the little nasty brown thing, who yipped one more time before retreating to a pillow under the coffee table.
"Your dog bit me."
Cassie frowned. “Suzy? I told you not to pet her."
"Well, you didn't tell me what to do when she sits on me.” He studied his hand, looking for damage.
"Naughty dog. Don't bite,” she admonished Suzy. To Mike, she said, “I'm sorry,” Did he see a tiny smile? She'd better not be amused by this. “Suzy has a split personality. The Pom part of her wants to be nice, sweet and friendly. But her Chihuahua half...well, it tends to make her a bit—"
"Vicious?"
"Well, that's one way to put it. Quite frankly, her nickname when we're alone is Bitchy.” They shared a smile. “Here, let me look at your hand.” She grasped it and lifted it up, revealing two faint red marks. “Oh, Mike, I'm sorry."
Without warning, she brough
t his hand up to her mouth and planted a kiss, a lingering, hot moistness that flamed his senses. He leaned forward, caught a whiff of her hair, a light citrus scent that brought visions of her in the shower, and he stifled a groan. Just then, she lifted her mouth, and her eyes met his.
"Does it still hurt?"
Hurt, no. Ache, hell, yes. Couldn't she see that? But she'd only meant his hand. Not the rest of his anatomy.
"I've been thinking,” he said, knowing his voice sounded too husky, too filled with need.
"Yes?” She stroked her thumb over his palm, slowly, sensuously. He could imagine that same thumb stroking another part of his body, swirling the same circles over his hardened flesh.
Those lips beckoned to him, called him, told him to sink into her, forget about their differences, forget that she'd break his heart, that she'd be all wrong for him.
"Perhaps we do need some practice."
He leaned down, his mouth hovering above hers.
Just another fraction of an inch, and he'd taste heaven.
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Chapter Three
Cassie held her breath, waiting for that first touch, that flash of fire in her veins. She could feel his rapid, shallow breath on her lips, fanning her need for him. She shivered in anticipation as his aftershave, subtle and spicy and mixed with that special male aura, drifted to her.
He's taking too long. She leaned into him, her breasts pressing against his hard chest.
He jumped back as if she'd pinched him, catching her as she toppled over. Setting her upright, he retreated, then grasped her hand, tugging her toward the door.
"C'mon. I don't think we need practice, after all."
"Mike—” she began. What on earth happened here? One moment, she'd been millimeters from kissing him again, something she could become addicted to. The next, she found herself outside as Mike made sure the door locked behind them. Then he bundled her into that oversized testosterone advertisement he called a ride, and pulled away from the curb as if he couldn't get away fast enough.
Or the evening over soon enough.
She arched a brow. “Are we in a hurry tonight?"
He stared straight ahead, both hands wrapped in a death grip on the steering wheel. “We're doing this to convince others that we're an item. We can't do that by staying at your place."
Ah, she understood now. He was on the run from her. Well, she might not be able to keep a guy, but at least she could have fun making this one squirm.
"But think of the talk we'd start if your truck sat outside my place all night long."
Deep red seeped up his face. “I don't think we need to get carried away,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “We only have to keep up appearances."
"So that's the goal."
He nodded, and she could see the relief on his features. “Yeah. That's the goal."
"Okay, I think I can handle that.” Loosening her seatbelt, Cassie slid toward him, then wrapped herself around Mike's arm. Lying her head on his shoulder, she made sure her breast pressed into him. He immediately stiffened.
She wriggled up against him, loving the feel of him. She rubbed her cheek against his solid shoulder, snuggling closer.
"What the heck are you doing?"
"Why, being a couple, of course. This way, anyone driving by and seeing us will know we're an item. Clever, huh?"
His voice came out a strangled bark. “Yeah, clever."
* * * *
What had he gotten himself into?
He didn't think he'd survive the trip to the restaurant, what with Cassie glued to his side, her breasts pressed against him, enflaming him until he could barely breathe. Every nerve pounded, demanding satisfaction. He couldn't take much more.
At least dinner wouldn't be bad. No reason for snuggling there. Then he'd parade her quickly through the Wave and drop her home. Yeah, good plan, Mike.
"Chinese okay?” He remembered that she loved Chinese, and he knew a good restaurant only a few minutes from the bar.
He felt Cassie nod against his shoulder. He tried to relax, but her body curled up against him felt too good. If he wasn't careful, he'd find himself in a trap of his own making, the trap of loving Cass even after boredom drove her away.
One of her hands idly played with a button on his khaki shirt. She had to be aware of his rapid heartbeat. Of course, since it pounded every time he got around her, perhaps she'd think it normal.
He pressed his foot down on the gas pedal. The sooner they arrived, the better. Then he could put some distance between them and get his libido back under control.
Too bad it didn't respond well to common sense. He knew better than to buy into something like this. Her snuggling up against him, that had been how Sharon first enticed him, seven years ago. He'd been attracted by her love of life, her free spirit, the way she faced any challenges with head held high.
He'd been devastated by her lies, her games, her sleeping around.
Cassie reminded him a lot of Sharon. Not only in looks, but in her approach to life. Good reason to stay the hell away from her.
Now why couldn't his body understand that?
They pulled up at the restaurant, and Mike disentangled himself. He opened the truck door for her. His eyes couldn't help but take in her long, shapely legs as she swung them out. Oh, baby. His pulse rapid-fired again.
She reached a hand out to him for support. Okay, he'd have to touch her; the Bronco was a bit up off the ground, and those shoes she wore wouldn't support her at all if she tripped.
She slipped her slender fingers into his hand; tightening his grip he pulled her from the truck. True to his thoughts, she stumbled a bit on those ridiculous heels and landed squarely against his chest. His body immediately thrilled at the touch while his mind yelled at him to retreat.
Cassie pushed away from him, then thanked him, looking past him at the pagoda-style restaurant. “This looks interesting.” Casual words, but her voice held a hint of sexual tension that he couldn't miss. Husky, soft, her voice contained a promise she tempted him to explore.
She still held his hand; when he pulled back, she clung fast.
"We're supposed to be dating,” she reminded him. “Couples in love hold hands."
But they weren't in love; quite the opposite, in fact. They were using each other to avoid complications.
What a joke. The biggest danger he faced was the very solution he'd suggested: dating Cassie.
* * * *
The canned music assaulted Cassie's ears as the entered the Wave. She held onto Mike's hand, wanting him close.
It felt good being with him. She loved touching him, enjoying his male skin next to hers and breathing in his essence. She squeezed his hand, and beamed when his reluctant smile graced his lips.
Over dinner, he'd seemed to relax a bit, becoming the old friend that she remembered from childhood, instead of the man who'd do anything to keep away from her.
She'd relaxed as well, as they discussed their lives apart—her practice in L.A. and some of the people she'd met there; his days as a firefighter; what he missed about it, what he didn't. His sister, Julia, Cassie's best friend from childhood. Her brother's attempt to recruit her to work with him at the clinic he'd started.
Their mothers. They couldn't be more different, yet still the same. They were both stubbornly focused on making their children's lives miserable. Lucia did so by trying to ‘help’ her children create a better life, even though she herself had never quite found it. Jessie preferred the ‘unwanted advice’ method.
They'd lingered over their desserts, sharing an oversized piece of cheesecake. Then the image of a slow dance in Mike's arms took hold of Cassie, so she'd suggested heading to the bar and finding someplace to sit before the place filled up.
After they arrived, it only took Cassie an instant to pick up on Mike's problem woman. The young blonde waitress pegged them the instant they arrived; her million watt smile, aimed at Mike, faded instantly when she took in Cas
sie at his side.
She vaguely remembered the girl from before. Ernie's oldest daughter, she was pretty sure. She'd be beautiful if not for that scowl on her face, aimed directly at Cassie.
Faced with such hostility, Cassie clutched Mike's hand tighter. He squeezed hers reassuringly and spared her a brief smile as he scoped out a table.
Okay, she could survive the evening under the angry glare of the waitress, as long as Mike didn't let go of her hand. She stifled a giggle; she'd faced down meaner people while negotiating multi-million dollar deals as a corporate attorney, yet she needed bolstering up when it came to surviving a jealous girl barely out of her teens. How ironic.
Or maybe she felt more vulnerable where Mike was concerned.
Nonsense. As long as she knew the pitfalls, she could guard her heart against him. She needed to remember some of his annoying habits. Like the way he used to call her ‘Duchess’ when they were kids. At least he's grown out of—
"Hey, princess, will this table do?"
Princess? She chuckled at that one. At least she'd been promoted. She felt rather pleased with herself that his choice of a nickname for her no longer bothered her.
At least, it didn't yet.
The table he'd chosen could be seen from everywhere. Not a spot that two lovers would choose. No, real lovers would want privacy. Looking around, she pointed to a table situated near the back and up a flight of stairs.
"I think that's better. We don't want to be obvious."
He took in her words and a moment later nodded. Still holding onto his hand, she navigated through the already thick crowd.
Digging into her purse, she found the tiny container of orange breath mints and popped a couple into her mouth. The flavor, one of her comfort tastes, helped to calm her. She reminded herself to pick up some more; she'd probably need a lot in the next several days. She offered them to Mike, and he took a couple, biting into them. The thought of an orange-flavored kiss quickened her pulse.
"Cassandra! Over here!"
Even over the noise, she recognized her mother's voice. With a groan, she turned. Sure enough, there she was. Her mother. With Kyle?
She glanced up at Mike. He wore a bemused expression, as if he didn't know which way to run. She sent him a warning glance. “No matter what, we don't sit down with them, got it?"