By the time dinner had concluded and the cake had been cut and served, the band was in full swing and the dance floor was busy.
“My turn to dance with you.” Owen rose and held out a hand to Cass. He’d danced with his mother, his sister, and even Grace. Now he only wanted Cass.
They made their way to the dance floor, and he put his arms around her. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.” He nuzzled the side of her face. “You feel really good. We should make a habit of slow dancing.”
“Is that what you call this?” Cass laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s sort of fast for a slow dance, don’t you think? And what step is that you’re doing?”
“I’m trying to keep in tune with the music.” He grinned good-naturedly. He knew dancing wasn’t his forte.
“Maybe it’s not supposed to be a slow song.” She wrinkled her nose and tilted her head to listen. “What is this song, anyway?”
He appeared to be horrified. “It’s Blake Shelton. ‘Sure Be Cool If You Did.’ ”
“Well, I don’t, so I guess I’m not cool.”
“No.” Owen laughed and pulled her a little closer. “That’s the name of the song. ‘Sure Be Cool If You Did.’ ”
“Ah, I get it.”
“But if you don’t know Blake, you can’t be very cool.”
“I don’t listen to much country.”
“I never did either, but that’s all Jared listens to. Morning, noon, night. You work with him for a while, you get to know country music.”
“So was this on Lis’s or Alec’s playlist.”
“Alec’s. Definitely. He plays this stuff in his shop while he’s working on boats. Says it puts him in the frame of mind to work with wood.” Owen shrugged. “I don’t judge.”
All Owen could think about from that point on was getting Cass alone. The evening seemed to go on forever. As Lis’s brother, he couldn’t very well leave before she did, even though he wanted to. He danced with Cass every chance he got, just to feel her body close to his. By the time they could finally leave, he was dizzy with wanting her.
Kathleen and Dave were driving Ruby back to the store, so Owen took Cass by the hand and they walked down the road, back to where he’d left the Jeep. He was trying to decide where they should go when Cass said, “Let’s go back to my room.”
“Okay,” he said as calmly as he could, as if he hadn’t been hoping she’d offer, as if he hadn’t all but willed her to utter those words.
He took his time driving to the inn, as if they had all the time in the world and his heart weren’t pounding out of his chest. They strolled across the parking lot and then through the lobby holding hands, climbed the steps leisurely to the second floor. By the time they reached her door, he was about to explode. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, and the minute it closed behind them, he had her flat up against the wall.
He kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her lips, her mouth, her scent. His hands slid over her body, feeling the silk of the dress, then pushed it up to feel the silk of her skin. She was soft in all the right places, and she made all those places accessible to him, arching against him and pressing into him as if she could not get close enough. In one motion, she unzipped her dress and let it drop onto the floor, then pushed his jacket off his shoulders and unbuttoned his shirt. The heat had risen between them to the point he was sure they’d both spontaneously combust.
He lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom, kicking the door open with one foot. She took him with her onto the bed and helped him remove what was left of his clothing, and he removed the rest of hers. With a groan that came from deep within, he ran his hands over her body from her shoulder to her thigh, stroking, lingering, stroking again. His lips trailed hot kisses down her throat and found her breast, and she moaned, wrapping her legs around him and making him know in no uncertain terms what she wanted, whispering in his ear, “Yes.”
Later, he’d vaguely recall having told her how beautiful she was, how much he’d wanted her from the first time he saw her, how good it felt to touch her, how good it felt when she touched him. He was lost in a fog of sensation, of desire fulfilled, and when she opened to him and he entered her and felt the silken smoothness of her wrap around him, he thought that after this night he could die a happy man. He was so happy when he awoke the next morning to find he hadn’t died that he pulled her to him and loved her all over again.
Chapter Twelve
Cass? Cassie?” The knock at the door was insistent. “Cassie, are you awake?”
Cass sat up in bed. “Oh, my God. It’s my mother.”
“So don’t open the door.” Owen rolled over and took half the covers with him.
“She knows I’m in here.” Cass tugged back her share of the covers.
“If we’re real quiet, she’ll think you’re asleep. Which she should expect you might be at”—Owen sat up and looked at his watch on the nightstand—“nine in the morning after a late night.”
“I know, but it’s my mother, and I’m sitting here buck naked in my bed with an equally naked man.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he muttered.
Cass stifled a giggle.
“You’re over thirty. You’re single. You aren’t breaking any law,” he whispered.
“I know. I know. But she’s still my mother. What if she won’t go away?”
“She’ll go away. Give her a minute.”
It took more than a minute, but Linda finally did give up and left.
“Are you hungry?” Owen asked. “I’m starving.”
“Me, too. Want to call for room service? Then again, no. What if my mother comes back and sees the cart being delivered. She’ll know I’m in here.”
“Let’s get dressed and go into town. We can grab breakfast somewhere.”
“Okay. Good idea. I want to take a quick shower first.”
She wrapped the sheet around herself and went into the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, she emerged wrapped in a towel, her hair wet from the shower. “One of the advantages of short hair is that it takes no time to wash and to dry. The bathroom is yours.”
“Did you leave any towels?”
“On the counter.”
While Owen showered, Cass dressed in jeans and a pink long-sleeved tunic. She tied a scarf around her neck and put on wide silver hoop earrings. Her mind wouldn’t leave her alone, insisting on taking her back over every minute of the night before. She hadn’t planned on bringing Owen back to the inn, or taking him to her bed, but once she realized that was where they’d been heading all evening, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Don’t be a fool, the voice inside whispered. Player . . .
Not this time, she told herself. Owen’d been honest with her about everything, hadn’t been anything but wonderful in every way. How could she not believe that he wasn’t playing with her? What man did all he’d done—the crabbing lesson, making her dinner, planning the day in Chestertown, even putting himself on grave-cleanup duty just to be with her—what man did all that to have a woman for only one night? There were times to trust, she told herself as she dressed and put on makeup, and this was one of those times. Something special was between them, she’d felt it before, and last night it had overcome them both. It wasn’t just sex, though that had been great to the point of being phenomenal, but the attraction between them was undoubtedly real and went well beyond the physical.
So take it at face value and see where it leads. That was her goal.
She heard Owen come out of the shower, and a few minutes later he emerged wearing just his khakis.
“I seem to have lost my shirt.” His eyes scanned the room. “Ah, there it is.”
He picked it up off the floor where she’d tossed it and shook it out.
“Looks a little wrinkled.” He held it up. “How do I keep from looking as if I’m still in my clothes from the wedding? Think anyone would notice?”
“Roll up the sleeves and lose the jacket and tie.” She watched him button the shirt. “Too many buttons. You look like you’re ready to put the tie on. Here.” She undid a few more buttons and smoothed out the collar. “That looks a little more casual.”
“Thanks. I’d go back to the store, but I’d run into my mother and she’d be wondering why I’m still wearing my wedding duds.”
“Ha. So you don’t want to face your mother, either. And you’re how old? Thirty-eight?”
“She’d get the wrong idea.”
“What idea is that?”
“I’m not sure, but it would be wrong, either way.”
He finished getting dressed. He looked her over, his eyes skimming from her head to her feet and back again. “You look just as beautiful now as you did last night. How do you always manage to look so perfect?”
“Seriously? Perfect? You must have forgotten about the days you’ve seen me sweating, dirty, and covered with grass clippings.”
“You wore them well.”
Cass searched his face and realized he’d meant every word. She went to him and kissed him. “That was sweet. Thank you.”
“It’s the truth. It doesn’t matter what you wear. You can’t help being beautiful, just as I can’t help being stunned by just how beautiful you are.”
“You keep talking like that, Owen Parker, and I’m going to . . .”
“What?” He held her to him, his eyes searching hers. “You’re going to what?”
“I’m going to start to think this was more than a one-night . . . you know.” Cass looked away. Despite her earlier pep talk, her basic insecurity betrayed her and put words she hadn’t wanted to say into her mouth, expressing thoughts she didn’t want to have.
“I hope you’re kidding.” No humor was in his voice or in his eyes. “Of course it wasn’t a one-night— Is that what you thought?”
She threw out the truth: “It’s what I was afraid of.”
“Babe, last night—today—this is not a one-night anything. It’s just the beginning of us.” His arms tightened around her. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re on board.”
“I’m totally on board,” she whispered.
“Good. Now, let’s go get breakfast before we both pass out.”
He folded his tie and tucked it into a pocket of the jacket, which he laid over his arm. They got to the door, and he was just about to open it when she grabbed his hand.
“Wait. Owen. What if my mother is out there?”
“You mean lurking in the hallway, waiting for you to emerge after your long sleep? Afraid she’ll pop out from a laundry cart?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“Not in my experience, but okay. What do you want to do?”
“We’ll go out separately.”
He laughed. “This is ridiculous.”
“I just don’t want to have a conversation about this and what it means with my mother this morning.”
“Okay. I know where the freight elevator is. I’ll leave first, and one minute later, you come down the steps and go right to the parking lot. Do you remember where we left the car?”
Cass nodded, then the absurdity of the situation struck her, and she giggled.
“I know.” Owen shook his head. “This is silly. I feel like a fifteen-year-old.”
“Me, too.” She opened the door and poked her head out to look both ways. “Go.” She shoved him out the door.
A minute later, she found the room key where she’d dropped it the night before and left the room. Once outside the inn, she went straight to the parking lot and found Owen waiting in his old brown Jeep. He laughed when he saw her.
“What’s so funny?” She got into the car and snapped on the seat belt.
“Just the whole thing. Your mother being here this weekend, my mother being at Ruby’s this weekend. It’s silly, because how old do you have to be before you let your parents know you’re sleeping with someone?”
“I think it would be different if it weren’t new.”
“You mean if this hadn’t been the first time we were together?”
Cass nodded, and he seemed to give that some thought as he drove from the parking lot to Charles Street. Once in town, he looked for a parking spot on the street, but had to drive down to the municipal lot to find a place.
“I forgot how busy it gets around this time on Sunday morning. Lots of people apparently like to go out to breakfast on Sunday. Let’s hope we can find a place that isn’t filled up.”
Owen took her hand and they walked up to Charles Street. They tried three restaurants but all had a wait of at least thirty minutes.
“Let’s go into Cuppachino,” he said after trying Lola’s, where the Sunday brunch was legendary but where the wait was a full hour. “At least we can get coffee and a muffin.”
“Anything at this point.”
They stood in line at the counter and waited to give their orders, then looked for a table. Finally Cass located one on the far side of the room next to the wall.
“Not much of a view, but there’s caffeine in the coffee, and sugar in the muffin, so it’s all good as far as I’m concerned.” Cass took a long sip of coffee and sighed. “This is so good.”
“Best coffee on the Eastern Shore.”
“So they claim.”
“Can’t argue with it. It’s damn good.”
“I told my mother I’d give her a call when I woke up. I guess I should do that now so she doesn’t think I’m in a coma or something.” She speed-dialed her mother’s cell and waited for the call to be picked up. She and Linda spoke for a few moments, then Cass hung up and told Owen, “They’re just getting ready to leave. I crossed my fingers and told her I knocked on her door earlier but no one answered. She said they were probably having breakfast in the dining room. But why didn’t I meet Owen there instead of going out? I told her I’d call later today and tell her all about the wedding.”
He leaned toward her to ask, “So we have the entire day to ourselves. What would you like to do?”
Movement from the left seemed to catch his eye, and he straightened up, an unreadable expression on his face.
“What?”
He didn’t respond.
She turned in the direction in which he was staring and saw the tall blond woman from Bling seated on the opposite side of the room with a group of three or four people.
“That’s her, isn’t it?” Cass said softly. “That’s your ex-wife.”
He nodded. “Yup. That’s her, all right.”
“She’s very pretty.”
Owen nodded. “She always was a pretty girl.” He looked at Cass for a long moment. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?”
“Don’t think about comparing yourself to her. She’d come up short and then you’d feel sorry for her.”
“She was in Bling the other day. When I bought my dress.” She wondered if she should tell him that she’d known the woman’s last name was Parker. Or that she had a child in her arms.
“Really? Huh. What a coincidence.” He glanced back at his ex-wife. “I guess I could go over and say hello, but I’m not sure I want to deal with her family. They weren’t very complimentary to me after the divorce.”
“Well, she’s theirs, and we always stick up for our own, right?”
“We do.” He turned his attention back to Cass. “I’ll wait and catch up with her another time.”
Cass was still wondering if she should mention the child with the dark curly hair when Cyndi and her group stood and headed toward the door. Owen’s ex was the last in line, and she turned to look over her shoulder and saw Cass across the room. She stared for a moment, then the recollection of having seen Cass the previous week must have kicked in, because she appeared to be about to smile.
Cass knew the exact second when Cyndi saw who else was at the table. Her expression froze and she seemed to blanch. She turned abruptly and left the shop. Cass continued
to stare at the door where the woman had been standing.
“. . . and maybe go to Rock Hall for crabs this afternoon. What do you say?”
“What? Oh. Crabs. Sure.”
“Okay, where’d you go? ’Cause you obviously weren’t here.”
Cass felt flustered and unsure of what to say. “I looked up and she—your ex—was looking at me, and for a moment it was like she recognized me but wasn’t sure where she’d seen me. Then I thought maybe she remembered me from the shop because I thought she started to smile, but she saw you here and sort of went white.”
“I have that effect on a lot of my old girlfriends.”
“She’s not just an old girlfriend, Owen.”
“Okay, I know. I just was trying to not give it any more importance than it deserves. She saw you with me and for some reason that . . . what, spooked her? I can’t imagine why, unless it was just one of those things where you see someone you didn’t expect to see.” Owen shrugged. “I heard she was going to be visiting her parents in Ballard. I’ll drive over one day this week and just say hello.”
“I think she’d probably appreciate that.”
“We know her brother would. He sure made a point of telling me in Scoop last week.”
Cass took a drink from her cup, holding it in both hands. She put it down on the table, her hands still wrapped around it. “There’s something else. When she was in Bling, she had a little boy with her.”
“Probably one of her nephews. Last I heard, her sister had two and was pregnant again. And two of her brothers are married, so it isn’t surprising.”
“I had the impression it was her child.”
Owen’s head snapped up. “That’s not possible. You must have misunderstood.”
“I don’t think so. She said something about how they were at her parents’ and he doesn’t sleep well outside his own bed.”
He shrugged. “That could very well be one of Sandie’s boys, Cass. Her sister was always dumping her kids on their mother. She’s been doing it for years. Don’t read any more into it than there was.” He seemed to dismiss any other possibility by changing the subject. “So what do you say? Crabs at the Waterman?”
The Chesapeake Bride Page 23