by Donna Ball
Shane frowned. "Do you mean to tell me this Melinda Hollander—“
“Mindy," Cassie corrected. "Mindy Howard."
"Whatever. She's going to turn out to be some kind of intellectual know-it-all who reads the financial page and jumps out of airplanes for kicks, right?"
Cassie chuckled. "Nothing like that at all. I told you, she's a nice girl and you have a lot in common. She just has a little more depth than you'd suspect. Just like you do. Which means you'll have a lot more in common."
Shane looked uncomfortable. "I've got to tell you that I'm not easy in my mind about any of this."
"Relax," she assured him. "That's what you have me for."
Cassie only wished she felt as secure in her decision as she sounded. Not that she had any doubts about Mindy; she was perfect for Shane, and Cassie had every confidence that the potential existed for a genuine relationship between them. It was just that—perhaps that was the problem. Maybe she had done her job too well. And as much as it shamed her to admit it, there was a part of her that wished Mindy hadn't been so available and so easy to find, that wished she could have had more time to introduce Shane to some not-quite-so-perfect women, that even, unlikely as it was, almost hoped something unpredictable would happen and Mindy and Shane wouldn't get along as well as she knew they would. It was incomprehensible, it was unforgivable, and Cassie couldn't believe she was actually feeling that way. But after Shane met Mindy there would be no more Sunday afternoons by the pool for her, no more bantering conversations with a man who grew more interesting each time she met him, no more warm brown eyes and quick smiles. And that made her sorry. Cassie was ashamed of herself, but just this one time she wished she hadn't been quite so good at her job.
She glanced over at Shane, and it was the oddest thing—for a brief moment, as her eyes met his, it was almost as though he knew what she was thinking. His expression was thoughtful, touched with a shade of regret, and Cassie felt a stab of yearning that surprised and embarrassed her. Quickly she looked away and took another sip of her beer.
The sun grew higher, and they talked in a desultory fashion, sometimes about her, sometimes about him. A lethargy stole over Cassie that made the day seem timeless. She couldn't remember when she had been so relaxed, nor when she had known a man who was so easy to be with. She forgot about Mindy, she forgot about work, and she simply enjoyed Shane.
When the puppy woke up, Cassie turned over onto her stomach and rolled a tennis ball back and forth for him, laughing lazily at the puppy's efforts to catch it. After a while Shane got up and joined the game, retrieving the ball when the puppy missed and rolling it back to Cassie. It was a silly way to spend the afternoon, but maybe that was one of the secrets to life: having the grace to just be silly every now and then.
When the puppy grew bored and wandered off to explore the courtyard, Cassie closed her eyes drowsily. She opened them again with a start when she felt Shane's hands on her bare shoulder blades.
"You need some sunscreen on your back," he said, and held up the bottle. "Do you mind?"
"Oh..." She tried to make her voice sound casual as she shifted over to make room for him beside her on the chaise. "Thank you."
But her heart was beating hard as he sat next to her, his bare thigh touching her hip. His hands spread the lotion in a gliding, circular motion over her shoulders and the middle of her back, sliding toward the low dip of her swimsuit at the base of her spine.
"Am I making you nervous?"
"No," Her voice was muffled in her arms, which she hoped would disguise the lie. "Why?"
"Your muscles are tense."
"Oh. I guess I'm just not used to this." If only he knew how long it had been since she had felt a man's touch. How strange it was, and how wonderful.
He started to recap the bottle. "I'll stop."
"No," she said quickly. And it was difficult to keep her tone offhand as she added, "Not unless you want to. It feels kind of nice."
She was glad she couldn't see his expression as he poured more lotion into his hand and finished spreading it on her lower back.
Cassie closed her eyes as his hands played a soothing rhythm over her sun-drenched skin, penetrating her muscles and stroking her nerves into a new and singular awareness. It was sensual and it was natural; it was arousing yet relaxing; it was perfectly innocent... and it wasn't.
She could feel his shadow moving over her, shielding her from the sun in patches and waves, and his heat against her side. The air smelled of coconut oil and sunshine and that clean, indefinable fragrance that was Shane. She had never felt so aware, yet so paradoxically lethargic, as though his nearness were a drug that both enhanced the senses and muted her will.
When his hand moved from her back to her thigh, her pulse quickened and the nerve cells of her skin seemed to flare, but still she didn't object. He spread the lotion in a single, slow, caressing stroke from the curve of her buttock to the crease of her knee, and every sense she possessed was concentrated on his hands as he encircled her thigh and applied the slippery lotion down and around, shaping her muscles with his fingertips. He caressed her calf and her ankle. He took her foot in both hands and massaged it gently. Cassie's breath quickened and her toes curled. Then he gave the same slow, thorough attention to the other leg.
Cassie's stomach muscles tightened as his hands massaged her knee and began a lingering, upward caress, his fingertips just brushing the apex of her thighs. Her breath caught and there was a lightness, almost a dizziness, in her chest as sensations almost forgotten fluttered to life within her. All the world seemed to pause before his next move, his next breath.
His hands moved over her hips and lightly cupped her waist. She could feel him bending over her, very close, could hear the slightly increased rhythm of his breathing. "Cassie?" he asked softly.
She turned over. Her hazy vision was filled with the gentleness of his face, the drowsy heat in his eyes. His bare chest brushed her breasts, and she thought he could feel the furious thumping of her heart. She lifted an unsteady hand to his face and he turned to her caress, brushing her fingertips with a kiss. Slowly, and with great absorption, her fingers moved down over his throat to his collarbone, across his chest, tangling lightly in the damp hair there. She opened her palm against the taut muscle of his breast, and she could feel his heart beat.
His fingertips lightly stroked the back of her wrist. He said nothing, but there was alertness in his eyes, cautiously mixed with question. And there was desire in his eyes and in hers, and only the slightest motion, the merest breath, would make that desire a fact.. .and Cassie held her breath. This was wrong and shouldn't be happening, and she was the one who had to stop it.
But for the longest moment her eyes were caught by his. Her breath wouldn't leave her chest, and she didn't know whether she could make herself do what she had to do. Then, somehow, her hand tightened against his chest, pushing a little, and her voice sounded hoarse and very far away as she said deliberately, "I have to go now."
He lowered his eyes and let his fingertips trail down her arm as she dropped her hand. After what seemed like a very long time, he moved away.
Cassie swung her feet to the deck and sat up. She felt dizzy and disoriented. Sitting there for a moment, she frowned with concentration as she tried to get her bearings. Her skin still tingled with his touch and her heart was beating sluggishly. Yet it seemed at the same time as though what had just happened—or had almost happened—was a pleasant and faraway dream, something she treasured but for which she wasn't responsible.
Shane retrieved her sandals, and she smiled at him uncertainly. Her fingers were clumsy and she couldn't manage the straps, so Shane fastened them for her. She smiled at him again. "Well," she said. How strange her voice sounded! "Thanks for a pleasant afternoon."
She grasped the hand he offered her and pulled herself up, then somehow lost her balance and stumbled against him. He caught her under the arms and chuckled softly. "Darlin', you're not going anywhere."
"You're in no condition to drive."
"Don't be silly." She tried to be insulted but couldn't quite manage it. "I only had two beers—"
"Four, but who's counting?" His eyes twinkled with a mixture of indulgence and sympathy. "And I'll bet you didn't have anything to eat before you came over here, did you?"
She hesitated. "I don't think so. I don't remember."
He nodded and slipped an arm around her waist. "Too much sun and too much beer on an empty stomach will do it to you every time. Come on inside and lie down for a while. You'll feel better after a nap."
She felt she should protest, but couldn't concentrate long enough to do so. Besides, it felt good to walk with Shane's arm around her waist and her head on his shoulder. To protest anything at that moment would have been foolish.
Her overheated skin prickled in the air-conditioned trailer, and she shivered. Shane guided her to the bed and pulled back the covers.
"I'll get suntan lotion all over your bed," she objected.
"That's okay." He smiled as he took her shoulders and gently pressed her to sit on the edge of the bed. "I like the smell."
He slipped off her sandals and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Cassie took off her sunglasses, dropped them onto the floor, then sank down into the cool pillows, drifting contentedly, carefree. "This is nice," she murmured. "You're nice."
He moved to draw the covers over her, and his eyes were so warm, his smile so tender, that it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Cassie to loop her arms around his neck and kiss him.
The only thing she could think of was drowning— suffused by sweetness, soft, rushing, liquid heat, inundated with his taste, his scent, melting into him. She opened her mouth and his tongue entered, her fingers drifted through his hair, her breasts pressed upward into the hard musculature of his chest. His hand slipped beneath her back, strong fingers on bare skin, pressing her upward, and she felt his indrawn breath as she cupped his face and turned slightly to taste him more thoroughly, drinking of him, insatiable.
Her eyelids fluttered when his lips left hers, but she couldn't quite open them. Her body seemed to be throbbing with a million separate heartbeats, distant yet aware, aching yet content. His lips brushed her cheek, and it was an exquisitely beautiful sensation that seemed to last forever. She tried to lift her hand to his face, but her limbs were watery and uncoordinated. Still, even that didn't matter. She wanted to lie there for the rest of her life and revel in the sensation that he created with his touch.
"Shane..." she murmured.
"Yes." His voice was soft, almost a whisper. "I know."
"I don't want you to leave."
"Don't worry. I won't."
The last thing Cassie was aware of was his fingers stroking her cheek before she drifted off into the soft cloud of sleep.
It was dark inside the trailer when Cassie awoke. At first she was startled and disoriented, but too soon the memories came flooding back. Cassie flung back the covers and swung her feet to the floor, doubling over to muffle a soft moan of sheer humiliation.
She wanted to tell herself that intoxication had loosened her inhibitions and made her do things she would never ordinarily do. It would have been very easy to tell herself that; she would still be embarrassed, but at least she wouldn't be responsible. The truth was that she had known exactly what she was doing, and the only thing that had been affected by the alcohol was her good judgment. And her humiliation wasn't so much over her behavior but the fact that she had fallen asleep when she had—and that Shane was probably laughing to himself over what a sloppy drunk she made.
She fumbled for the lamp switch on the bedside table and found her shoes and sunglasses on the floor. She exchanged the sunglasses for regular glasses from her purse, then went quickly into the bathroom to change her clothes.
The first thing she noticed when she stepped hesitantly out into the twilight was the smell of charcoal in the air. The second thing she noticed was a string of citronella candles suspended from a wire that ran from a nearby tree limb to the edge of the trailer. They looked like dancing fireflies in the dying light.
Shane had set up a grill in front of the trailer. He was turning a steak that was almost the size of the grill top. Then he noticed her and smiled. Cassie felt her whole body go scarlet with embarrassment, and she didn't know how to begin to apologize or explain. She could hardly meet his eyes and was grateful for the dusk that hid her misery.
And just when she thought she would wither away from awkwardness, Shane put the barbecue fork down and said easily, "Just look at that sky, will you? I tell you, no place on earth has got Texas beat for sunsets."
Cassie released a grateful breath, and she thought that if it were possible to fall in love with a man in a single moment, that would have been the moment and he would have been the man.
She turned her gaze to the sky and let the deep indigo and pale pink swirls soothe her jagged nerves and wash away the edges of tension. "It is beautiful," she said softly. "No matter how often I see it, I'm always amazed at how big the Texas sky is. A person could get lost just looking at it."
He came over and gestured her to sit on the steps. When she did, he sat beside her, and even after everything that had happened the silence was comfortable between them.
"I like the candles, too," she said. "But you do know that they make electronic bug repellers, don't you?"
"I know. But I like the way the candles look. More romantic somehow."
"There's nothing romantic about the sound of a moth hitting two hundred and fifty volts of electricity," she agreed, and he laughed softly. Cassie tightened her hands around her knee and knew the moment had come. "I guess," she said without looking at him, "I made a pretty big fool of myself this afternoon."
"Did you?"
She nodded.
Though she still couldn't make herself look at him, she could feel his eyes on her intently. "Does that mean you're sorry?"
Her throat tightened. She didn't want to answer that, but she had to. She focused on her fingers, which were pressed into the fabric of her skirt that covered her knees. "Only," she managed with difficulty, "if you think I... come on to every man like that, or... that it was just the beer and the sun."
Something seemed to quicken in the air around them, and she could hear the alertness in his voice as he answered softly, "I don't think that, Cassie."
She looked at him in a rush of relief that was swiftly followed by tenderness. His face was gently shadowed in the dying light and highlighted by the glow of the candles overhead. She wanted to loosen her fingers and let them travel the planes of that face, to say at least one of the things that were aching inside her. But she kept her fingers tightly clasped and only said, "Good. Because I wouldn't want you to think—"
“I wouldn't. It was my fault, anyway. I shouldn't—"
“No, it wasn't. I just—“
“I know you're not the kind of woman who would—"
"Good," she said again. And after the rush of half-formed conversation the silence that fell was thick with expectation. He held her eyes for a minute, then looked away. Cassie dropped her gaze to her knees. She could feel her heart beating. There was more she wanted to say and more he wanted to say, but neither one of them dared to speak first. And it was better that way. Both of them knew that.
“I have to go home now," Cassie said abruptly, and got to her feet.
"You can't go without dinner," Shane objected, rising as well. "How am I supposed to live with myself, sending you home on an empty stomach?"
Cassie smiled. "Thanks, but I'm still feeling a little queasy. I'd better not."
He glanced toward the grill. "Look at the size of that steak. Are you going to make me eat it all by myself?”
She laughed. "I'm sure you won't have any trouble."
His smile told her he wouldn't insist, but there was still
a gentle persuasion in his eyes. "You sure you won't stay? That's a hell of a sirloin I've got going, if I do say so myself."
Cassie hesitated. Dinner with Shane under a canopy of stars and a circle of candles... "Thanks," she said, "but I've got a long drive and I don't want to be on the road too long after dark."
"I can take you home."
Yes, he could take her home... tonight, or in the morning. She swallowed. "I need my car." If he had asked her to stay one more time, she might have done it. But he didn't, and she didn't give him much time to try again. "I've had a nice time, Shane. I wish..."
But she stopped, uncertain how she wanted to finish that sentence. She wished the day didn't have to end. She wished she could stay. She wished he would insist she stay. She wished everything could be different....
He was looking at her intently, and there was an insistent undertone in his voice as he prompted softly, "What? What do you wish, Cassie?"
Cassie dropped her eyes. "I don't know. Nothing. Good night."
She started to turn away, but he caught her hand. "Cassie."
She turned back quickly. "Yes?"
She couldn't tell in the dim light what his expression was. He looked at her for a moment as if he wanted to say something, and then he smiled and dropped her hand. "Nothing. Drive carefully, okay?"
Her smile was a little weak. "Okay."
She walked to her car and drove away, and Shane watched until the taillights of her car disappeared from view. He had dinner alone and ended up feeding most of the steak to the dog.
~
SEVEN
Shane's date with Mindy Howard was arranged for Wednesday night. Generally Cassie would have handled the details herself, especially with a case as important as this one, but she no longer trusted herself to be involved in anything that concerned Shane Bartlett. So she turned the case over to Emma and tried, largely unsuccessfully, to give her attention to others who needed it.