Mad About You

by Joan Kilby

  He grabbed her by the arm with a muddy hand and spun her around. “Stop moving and talk to me. I thought you liked wildflowers. You’re always telling me to give women wildflowers.”

  “Exactly. Women! Plural. You give every woman you go out with wildflowers.”

  “You said that’s the thing to do. You’re not like the others. You’re my best friend.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know it wasn’t appropriate. Everything I know about how to treat women, I learned from you.”

  “Then take my advice and don’t follow my flippant suggestions!” She knew what came next. First the wildflowers, then the perfume, then the jewelry—more jewelry, to go with the diamond ring—then the trip to Paris. The final brush-off gift would be a fancy sports car. She knew because more than once she’d guided him through every step of the process. All Cassy wanted was something from his heart. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. What she wanted was his heart. Was that so much to ask when she had laid her own on the line? “For an intelligent man, you really don’t have a clue.”

  He shrugged, clearly baffled by her reaction. “The white flowers are bellflower and the purple are star gentian. I shouldn’t even have picked them. They’re actually quite rare.”

  Of course they were. She dragged her hands over her face. Some cyclists crushed plants beneath their wheels without a second thought, but Scott pulled over and consulted a battered field guide to identify the delicate blossoms. When they had been thirteen, he’d given her a bunch of wild California poppies. She still had those back home in Bellingham, tucked between the pages of her middle school yearbook.

  This was terrible. She felt ashamed about snapping at him and she hated second-guessing everything that happened between them. That’s what happens when you sleep with your best friend. The lines blur between love and friendship. She had to regain her composure and get their relationship back on the business track. Too much was at stake for Scott not to put all his focus on getting an investor for his Dreamcatcher.

  Cassy carefully gathered the scattered wildflowers and found a water glass to put them in. “How did your ride with Lorraine go? Did she say anything about the presentation or the Dreamcatcher?”

  “No.” Scott peeled off his leather gloves. “But she was impressed with the geothermal power station. She didn’t give any indication which way she was leaning with her investment. She’s worth billions. Why couldn’t she invest in both?”

  “I asked Tod that when I ran into him in the café after you and Lorraine hit the trails. He said Lorraine never invests too heavily in any one geographical region in case of a natural disaster or a political coup.”

  “Right, because Mount Saint Helens could blow at any moment and wipe out the geothermal plant and my tech company.” Scott drew his soaking-wet shirt over his head and dropped it on the tiled entryway.

  “It’s not outside the realm of possibility. The über-rich have their eccentricities.” Cassy tried not to stare at his naked torso. Even goose-pimpled and streaked with dirt, his muscled shoulders and chest were enough to dry her mouth and send a tingling through her body.

  “Did Tod say anything about our chances?” Scott asked.

  Cassy shook her head, as much to clear her thoughts as to answer his question. “I’m not even sure if we’re having dinner with them again tonight.”

  “We’re not. She’s dining with the director of the geothermal plant.” Scott rolled off his filthy shorts and socks and kicked them over to join the shirt on the tiles, leaving him in nothing but his black knit boxers.

  Cassy swallowed. Scott would never have casually undressed in front of her before. Clearly, they weren’t “just friends” anymore. But what were they? One night in the sack and a bunch of wildflowers didn’t make a relationship. “So…should we stay another night or not? We’re booked in for the whole weekend and according to Tod, it’s already paid for.”

  Hands on his hips, Scott met her gaze with a frown as he weighed up the options. “We have work to do in Seattle.”

  If they went back to Seattle, the romantic weekend would be over and despite the train wreck it had been so far, Cassy wasn’t ready for it to end. “I intended to print my report in the hotel’s business center this afternoon but I fell asleep instead. I would still like to do that before we go. Then we could give Lorraine, Tod, and Silvio each a package to take home with them.”

  “Good plan. And if we stay, we might get another chance to informally pimp the Dreamcatcher tomorrow at breakfast.”

  “Okay. Let’s do it.” Cassy found a shaky smile. Another chance. It was up to them what they made of it.

  “Right. I’m going to have a shower.” Scott started to move toward the bedroom but paused in the doorway. “You know, despite what you advised me, I never gave anyone but you wildflowers.”

  “Really?” A flutter of hope beat in her heart. You’re not like the others. “I’m sorry I said they were weeds. They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  A gleam in his eye, he inclined his head toward the en suite bathroom. “Care to join me?”

  Heat flowed from him, enveloping her, and just like that, Cassy melted. She was so easy, it wasn’t fair. All he had to do was look at her and she was putty in his hands. She took a deep breath. “In a minute.”

  She waited until he closed the bathroom door before she plucked a sprig of star gentian and one of bellflowers from the water glass and blotted them dry with a clean cocktail napkin. She laid the wildflowers between the pages of the epic fantasy novel she had brought with her, arranging them carefully so that the petals weren’t bent.

  Then she unbuttoned her blouse and stepped out of her pants, tossing them and her underwear aside as she walked through the bedroom into the bathroom. She rounded the glass shower partition and found Scott standing naked beneath a stream of steaming water. “Want me to scrub your back?”

  A slow, sexy grin curled his lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  …

  Questions plagued Scott’s mind as he drove back to Seattle the next morning, and they weren’t all about whether Lorraine would invest. What was going to happen between him and Cassy once they were back at his penthouse and back to work? They’d burned up the sheets at the lodge but that had an air of unreality, like a temporary romantic getaway, the business side notwithstanding. Would they continue to sleep together? Would she move into his room? Did he want her to? Where were they heading with this relationship, if they could even call it that?

  He glanced sideways at her. She’d been quiet the whole trip, looking out the window at the mountain scenery or checking her e-mail on her phone. He could feel their friendship changing, becoming less straightforward and more complicated. It wasn’t hard to see why. He couldn’t speak his mind freely when he was trying to figure out how she would react to what he said and did. At the same time, he had a powerful need to know what she was thinking and feeling about him.

  Whatever offense she’d taken over the wildflowers seemed to have passed. To his dying day, he would never understand women. The funny thing was, he thought he did understand Cassy. Years ago, he had picked her California poppies and she’d been surprised and touched, giving him a solid glow that something so simple could mean so much to her. Much later, she began to suggest wildflowers as a way to placate disgruntled girlfriends. He always agreed, then went to the florist and bought a big bouquet of hothouse roses. He didn’t know much about women but he was pretty sure most wouldn’t be impressed with small, insignificant blooms that wilted quickly.

  Cassy was the only woman he had ever known who sincerely appreciated wildflowers. He didn’t want to give them to anyone else. They were special and so was she. Why she had tossed his recent offering at first he couldn’t fathom. And he wasn’t going to risk this tentative peace by asking. It was probably the kind of thing a guy was supposed to know without being told. Did her silence now mean that she was pissed at him again?

  “I hope Lorraine gets back to us quickly,” he said, trying
to draw Cassy out. “Do you think she’ll decide to invest?”

  “It’s hard to say.” Cassy didn’t lift her eyes from her phone. “We shouldn’t put all our eggs in one basket.”

  They had chatted once more with Lorraine informally about the Dreamcatcher and Cassy had handed over copies of her business plan and marketing projections. Lorraine was playing her cards close to her chest, saying only that she and her advisers would study them over the next week. She’d resisted another meeting where he could show her his invention in action. He’d tried to pick up his spirits by another mountain bike ride before they left the lodge but it was a deflating end to the weekend given the high hopes he’d entertained on the drive up on Friday.

  Scott drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I was so sure that this deal was going to land in our laps. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.”

  “Nothing worthwhile is ever easy,” she said, texting someone. “You’ll find an investor. If not Lorraine, then someone else.”

  The steep, winding road flattened as they came down off the mountain. He put his hand on her knee and squeezed lightly. “Whatever happens, I appreciate you taking over office management and running interference for me on the social scene. I really owe you.”

  “I’ve enjoyed it. In fact, these past weeks have taught me just how bored I was doing taxes. Whatever happens, I’m not going back to that.” She raised her head and blinked. “Do you know, that’s the first time I’ve consciously admitted that to myself. My decision isn’t just because I’m bored with tax accounting. It’s a measure of how much I’ve enjoyed learning new stuff.”

  “You’ll always have a job with me. When I get the funding I’m promoting you to chief financial officer.”

  “Really, you mean it?” A smile spread across her face. But too quickly for his liking, she returned her attention to her phone.

  “Of course I mean it.” He eased his fingers up under her skirt, trying to distract her. In their last encounter in the shower they had very nearly cracked the glass door. He loved that she was enthusiastic about sex. He’d known her for decades and he never would have guessed. It was exciting to think there were other aspects of her personality yet to be discovered and explored. To hell with his doubts about their future. He was going to get her naked again as soon as they got back to his penthouse. His fingertips brushed her panty line and his groin tightened.

  “Wonderful,” she murmured, her gaze riveted to her phone.

  “If you like that, you’ll love what I’m planning for when we get home,” he teased, knowing she hadn’t been referring to him.

  “Mind out of the gutter, Thornton.” She pushed his hand away, then rapidly thumb-typed another text message. “I’m working.”

  He replaced his hand on the steering wheel. “Who have you been communicating with for the past half hour? Is it Tod? Has Lorraine sent some good news?”

  “Forget Lorraine, at least for now. Remember I told you about another potential angel investor?” She flicked him a glance. “I’ve set up a meeting. We can go straight there if you want.”

  “Now? A business meeting on Sunday afternoon?”

  “He’s flying to Beijing in the morning. He’ll see us at his home.” She tapped away at the tiny keyboard on her phone. “There, I’ve just e-mailed him the tech and marketing reports I gave Lorraine.”

  Scott frowned. “Are you sure you should have done that before we meet him? How do you know he’s not working for PacTech?”

  “He’s not. I trust him.”

  “Well, who is this person? What’s his name?”

  “Oh, you don’t know him,” Cassy said quickly, then pointed at a road sign. “Isn’t that our exit?”

  “Yep.” He checked his mirrors, then shot over to the far right lane just in time to make the turnoff. “Surely you can tell me something about him.”

  “He’s a wealthy Seattle businessman with national and international interests in IT and office equipment. He’s looking for an investment, has scads of money to spend, and he’s interested in your product.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Scott was tired, needed a change of clothing, and would rather take Cassy home to bed than attend a business meeting, but knowing they had another option gave him a boost of energy. He stepped on the accelerator. If pushing himself would end the weekend with a definite win, then that’s what he would do.

  But did this guy sound too perfect? After an inconclusive result with Lorraine, he was wary. As he slowed for a red traffic light ahead, he turned to Cassy. “What’s the catch?”

  She snapped her phone shut and lifted her wide amber gaze to his. With a shrug she replied lightly, “No catch.”

  …

  Forty minutes later, Cassy directed Scott to a mansion in a prestigious area of Seattle’s waterfront. She made another brief phone call as they approached the security gates and the massive wrought iron barriers swung inward. She had her fingers crossed that Scott’s long avoidance of anything to do with his father meant that he wouldn’t know this was Ian’s residence.

  “Whoever this guy is, he must be loaded.” Scott parked in the circular drive beneath an imposing portico supported by marble columns.

  “Oh, he is.” Once inside, she hoped some vestige of family feeling would convince Scott to have a meaningful discussion with Ian. Even if they only talked business, that would be a good start and extremely important in its own right. Yes, she should have told him who he was meeting, but he would never have agreed. Eventually, he would see that this was for his own good and thank her. She hoped.

  She touched her palms against her skirt and pressed the doorbell. With luck, a maid would let them in. If Scott was confronted unexpectedly by his father, he was liable to turn around and get straight back in the vehicle.

  The door opened. An expensively groomed blond woman in her late forties wearing a short black sheath and a lot of tasteful silver jewelry flickered her gaze from Scott to Cassy and back to rest on Scott with a curious smile. “Hi, I’m Serena. You must be Scott and Cassy. Come this way please.”

  Serena, no doubt Ian’s wife or girlfriend, led them across the marble foyer and ushered them into a spacious study filled with teak and leather. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined two walls. A large window looked onto a garden with a glimpse of a tennis court in the background.

  “Please take a seat,” Serena said, indicating the leather club chairs grouped around a coffee table. “I’ll tell Ian you’re here.” She went out and shut the door.

  “Nice place.” Cassy glanced around, biting her lip, waiting for Scott to figure things out.

  “Ian?” Scott said. “Please tell me this is a coincidence and that you didn’t drop me into a meeting with my father without my knowledge.” He loomed over her, his expression black. “Or permission.”

  She stood tall and squared her shoulders, fixing Scott with a determined gaze. “He’s got decades of business experience, national and international connections, plus he has money to spend and he’s interested in your project. As you said yourself, he’s perfect.”

  “He’s not perfect, he’s my father!” Hurt mingled with fury in Scott’s stormy green eyes. “How could you do this? You know I don’t want anything to do with him.”

  “Not even if it means getting the Dreamcatcher on the market?” Cassy argued. “We can’t sit around and wait for Lorraine to make up her mind. Hello, PacTech? The situation is urgent, as you keep reminding everyone.”

  A man cleared his throat. Ian Thornton entered the study, dressed casually in pressed jeans and a navy pullover. “Cassy. Good to see you again.” His eyes drank in Scott hungrily as he held out his hand. “Hello, son. I’m glad you came.”

  Scott ignored the proffered hand. “I didn’t know who we were meeting or I would never have agreed. We won’t take up any of your valuable time. Come on, Cassy.”

  “Not so fast.” She grabbed him by the shirtsleeve. “Your father is considering investing in your company. The least you can d
o is show him the courtesy of sitting down and talking about it.”

  “I don’t need—or want—my father’s money,” Scott shot back. “I’ve come all this way on my own, no thanks to him. He’s not going to cash in on my invention now.”

  “I’m not trying to ‘cash in’ on anything,” Ian said calmly. “I’m trying to help you. I know I wasn’t the best father when you were growing up. I wasn’t around much but I did care.”

  “Spare me the movie-of-the-week painful confession bullshit,” Scott sneered. “If you’d cared you’d have raised me yourself instead of palming me off on my aunt and uncle.” Shaking off Cassy’s hand, he strode out of the study without a backward glance.

  “Scott!” Cassy called. She turned to Ian. “Hang on, I’ll get him.”

  “Let him go,” Ian said tightly. “He’s not interested in anything I can offer him.”

  “He is. I promise you. Please, just give me five minutes to talk to him.” Without waiting for Ian’s answer she ran out and down the hall.

  Scott’s hiking boots thudded dully on the marble floor of the entry hall. Cassy beat him to the double door and flung herself spread-eagle in front of it, barring his exit. “You can’t leave.”

  “Get out of my way, Cassy.” His face looked harder than she had ever seen it. “I don’t want anything to do with you at the moment, either. You lied to me. You’ve never done that before in your life.”

  “I had to,” she said desperately. “You never would have gone to him on your own even though he’s the logical choice as an angel investor. I did it for your own good.”

  “I’ll judge what’s good for me.”

  “You’re thirty years old, Scott. I know you felt abandoned. I know you are hurt and angry. But he can’t be all bad. By refusing to let him into your life, you’re continuing to let him affect you. Don’t you think it’s time you exorcized those demons?” She pointed down the hall. “Just talk to him. Give him, and yourself, a chance to heal the rift.”

  “It’s not your job to fix my life,” Scott said coldly. “What I want from you is support. You’re supposed to be my friend. If you think this fake engagement means you can tell me how to live my life, then you’re overstepping the line.”