“Rest, my little sex fiend. You worked hard today.” He kissed her head.
“Will you be here when I wake up?” What if he slipped away while she slept? He could have his car packed and be gone before she woke up.
“I will, I promise. I have two weeks before I need to go back to the real world.” He cuddled her closer. “And you’re too good to let go any sooner than I have to.”
Eyes closed, she let the world slip away. She could only hope, if he did sneak away while she slept, that this would be enough.
* * * *
When she opened her eyes, the setting sun washed the room in shadows and gold. Jason lay wrapped around her, sleeping. They’d missed lunch, but she’d thrown something into the Crock-Pot for dinner before going out to cut down the tree.
The tree, which still blocked the road.
She eased out of his arms. In sleep, he looked younger. Less worn. Sitting beside him, she studied his face. She hadn’t realized how tense he’d seemed before. There were hundreds of pictures of him under her bed, but somehow, when he was on her doorstep, she’d forgotten what he looked like. He’d said it had been two years. Could he really have been alone since he and Stella broke up? Was there more to this story? Did she have any right to know?
She stood up. Probably not. She unhooked her sweatshirt from the window crank and folded it up. Different clothes and a shower were in order. She still felt sticky and slick from their passion. Never once when she’d had sex with Michael had she been so sweaty. In fact, she didn’t remember ever breaking a significant sweat with her ex-husband.
She stepped under the warm water and washed off quickly so she didn’t wake Jason or use all the hot water. When she turned off the shower, the cold air pebbled her skin.
God. She’d just slept with a man on the first date.
Maybe second date. They’d had dinner together two days ago and lunch yesterday. That might count as two dates. Three, if each day counted.
Either way, she’d never been that kind of girl, even if he was a famous, sexy rock star. Cass toweled off. She was the kind of girl who ended up a spinster on the side of a West Virginia mountain. No one would ever know in town. It wasn’t their business. Well, Paul would know because he was nearly psychic about these things, better than her mother. But without confirmation, he would settle for significant looks and a nice chocolate mousse when Jason left town and wouldn’t breathe a word to the populace. He knew he was a blabbermouth, and if somebody didn’t tell him something, even if he’d guessed, he wouldn’t speculate out loud.
She didn’t plan on giving him confirmation.
Passing the bedroom door, she looked in on Jason. He’d burrowed under the covers and lay with her pillow in his arms. She doubted he even realized she had gotten up.
He hadn’t left, she realized with a start. She’d been convinced when she’d fallen asleep that he would be gone when she woke up. But there he was curled up in the middle of her bed, sleeping. Too good to let go of any sooner than he had to, he’d said. Maybe he’d been telling the truth. Possibly, she would get her two weeks of bliss before her normal life came back to roost.
She checked the Crock-Pot. Dinner should be ready in about an hour. Taking several leftover dinner rolls out of the freezer, she set them on the stove to thaw. She still felt warm and languorous from Jason’s touch. All her joints were loose and everything had a hazy, rosy tint.
She hurried down the basement stairs. In the root cellar she had apple butter she’d made last fall as well as some cherry pie filling. Growing up, she’d always sworn she’d never have a root cellar, but here she had the best stocked one in town because she couldn’t rely on getting to a store all the time. She could be trapped up here for a month without running out of food. Cradling a jar of cherry pie filling and the apple butter, she ran back up the stairs.
The phone rang as she walked into the kitchen. “Hello?” she answered it.
“Cassie, I just got your letter. Are you serious?” Gretta demanded.
“Totally.”
“Oh God, I hate you. Did you— Have you—”
“Yes.”
“I really do hate you. What happened? What was it like?”
“He’s here now.”
“So you can’t talk.” Gretta whined. “Okay, call if you need me. This is so exciting. My best friend sleeping with Jason Callisto.”
“’Bye, Gretta.”
“’Bye.”
Cass hung up the phone and turned to the pie she’d decided to make, hoping she wouldn’t need Gretta. She didn’t want this to end with the washed-out bridge and the sobbing long distance phone calls. Was a fond farewell and sweet memories too much to hope for?
As she was rolling out the crust, Jason slipped his hands around her waist. “You weren’t in bed when I woke up,” he murmured, kissing her neck.
“I thought you might like to eat some dinner at some point.”
“Dinner?”
Cass felt him looking around the kitchen. The Crock-Pot on the counter, the rolls on the oven, apple butter beside them. The pie shell she was laying in the tin. She trimmed the extra crust and debated rolling out a lattice top. It would be showing off and he probably wouldn’t notice the difference, but she would know. She knew too much. Like right now, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. And she thought she could get him back into bed if she wanted to. Would he notice when she turned down the Crock-Pot so it wouldn’t overcook while she seduced him again?
“Wow, looks like you have something special planned.”
“Not really. I put the chicken a la King on for myself before I went out to cut down the tree. I got out extra rolls because I thought you might be hungry since we slept through lunch. The apple butter was in the root cellar, and when I went to get it, I saw the cherry pie filling and thought it might taste good.” She laid the crust over the pie. Judging by his tone, he was impressed already. She pinched the crust closed and turned in his arms. Yup, no shirt and barefoot. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans, and that looked to be about it. She brushed her fingers down his chest. “Does that sound special?”
“Everything about you sounds special.” He leaned down and kissed her.
Cass’s body went limp as an overcooked noodle. As he pulled her tighter, lifting her off the floor, she reached behind her and shoved the pie back then stroked across the soft skin of his shoulders. Groaning, he settled her on the counter. Her legs seemed inclined to wrap around his waist.
“Too many clothes,” he muttered, opening the buttons of her flannel shirt. “Could you arrange to be naked for the rest of the trip?”
“Maybe, but it means that you’ll have to go get more firewood.”
He chuckled, which made the hair on the back of her neck rise. She shivered. “I can’t keep you warm enough?”
“Would you like to try?” she challenged. She looked down at him, watching his eyes grow dark. Instead of answering, he put his hand behind her neck and kissed her hard. Cass tightened her legs around him and he groaned. He hardened against her, and reached under her shirt and unhooked her bra. Then he pushed her shirt and bra off her shoulders. Cass gasped. He took one of her nipples between his lips. Tangling her hands through his hair, she leaned her cheek on the top of his head. Her hair hung around them like a curtain. She hadn’t thought she could be hungry for him again so soon, but she was. She ran her hands down his back.
“Oh God, I have to stop,” Jason muttered. He leaned his head between her breasts.
Tension thrummed in her like a high power wire. “Why?”
“I don’t have another condom.” He panted. “My God, you are tempting.”
“What do we need a condom for?” She lifted his head so she could see his eyes. They were so deep and dark.
“Are you on birth control?”
“No.”
He put his hands over hers. “That’s why we need a condom. I can’t leave you pregnant.”
The window ha
dn’t blown open just then, so this chill was all hers. All the ardor she’d felt a minute ago, drained away. I can’t leave you pregnant. She’d moved past a little racy and into flagrantly irresponsible, and of all people, Jason was being the responsible one. So much for his love ’em and leave ’em reputation. But then, paternity suits could get expensive.
“You’re right.” She slid off the counter and turned away from him. Turning down the Crock-Pot hadn’t even been necessary.
“What are you mad about?”
“I’m not mad,” Cass lied. She was, just not at him. Why wasn’t she being more responsible, more mature? Instead, she was acting like a hormone-driven high school girl. With shaking hands, she put her pie in the oven.
“Come on. I’m pretty good at knowing what mad looks like and it usually looks like this. Is it because I wouldn’t have sex with you?”
She slammed the oven door and turned back to him. He stood in the middle of the kitchen barefoot and shirtless, still incredibly sexy, mouth hanging open. Well, she wasn’t that far from baffled either. “No. Because I would have.”
Jason folded his arms. “Okay, that almost makes sense.”
Cass folded her arms too and remembered she was also shirtless. Her shirt and bra lay on the floor in the doorway behind him. “I should be old enough to know better. I don’t know where you’ve been. I don’t even know why you’re so interested in me. Could be I’m just the only woman handy.”
“Where I’ve been? What am I, used Kleenex?” He scowled, which also looked sexy. Only now he looked very, very angry, and sexy and shirtless and barefoot.
“No, but you might be a little cold here on the mountain,” she snapped.
“Not hardly. I think I can last a couple of celibate weeks.”
“Really? I haven’t seen it. You had me within forty-eight hours.”
“I didn’t hear you protesting.”
Cass adjusted her arms. She hadn’t protested. She’d hopped into bed at the first opportunity and acted like some kind of whore. “No, you’re right and if I remember correctly that’s why I was mad in the first place.”
Jason ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t need this. I came up here to de-stress, not make things worse.” He stalked down the hall.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to my cabin.” He grabbed his coat off the floor and pulled it on then yanked open the door and as he left, slammed it behind him.
Cass picked up her flannel shirt and watched him walk back to his cabin, barefoot with his coat flapping behind him. The tree still blocked the road and it was getting dark. She’d have to get it after dinner. If she could get herself to do anything after dinner. Right now the best course of action seemed to be curling up in a ball on the floor and sobbing, but that hadn’t helped when Michael left so she doubted it would be any more successful this time. She needed to do something. Move on. Take some sort of action. She checked the time. Dinner should be ready soon. It was at the very least, a place to start.
Chapter 8
“Shit.” Jason slammed the door behind him.
Halfway to his cabin he’d realized he wasn’t wearing his shoes. Another four steps, and he’d remembered he wasn’t wearing a shirt either. By the time he’d reached the door, he was shuddering against the cold and wishing he was in Cassie’s warm house, in her warm bed.
In Cassie’s warm arms.
Why had he stormed out?
Jason poured himself a generous whiskey and slammed it back, coughing and sputtering when the liquid scorched his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and poured another. Then he slumped on the couch and stared into the dead hearth.
From the moment he’d noticed the dinner, he’d become alarmed. A large chicken casserole, rolls, apple butter, cherry pie. People didn’t put together a meal like that unless they expected company. Therefore, she’d expected company. Him. She’d baited the trap, and like a big dummy, he’d walked right in and said, “Oooh, cheese!”
But she’d been cooking a roast when he’d shown up, hadn’t known who was coming or that he wouldn’t have his own dinner.
He took a more appropriate sip of his whiskey and leaned his head against the back of the couch. The alcohol warmed his mouth, reminding him that nothing else was warm. He hadn’t even taken off his coat.
It had been a memorable afternoon. The snowball fight followed by that incredible kiss in the snow. Then the incredible sex in her bed. He wasn’t without a standard of comparison, but he hadn’t yet met a woman he’d wanted to dive into and never surface from the way he did with Cass. She was hot and sleek and genuinely responsive.
His feet started to itch from the cold. He could fix the problem by taking a hot shower but that involved too much effort. Instead, he shrugged off his coat and threw it across the back of the couch. The chill helped clear his sex-deprived brain.
Maybe she hadn’t been so genuinely responsive. Maybe it was all part of an elaborate ploy. He’d experienced plenty of ardent pursuit since he’d become rich and famous. Some of them were after the rich, others, the fame. All had wanted the guy they thought he was. The famous guy. Sometimes they fooled him, but never his sisters or his mom. When they all hated Stella on sight, he should have known something was wrong with her. He needed to get one of his sisters out here to look Cass over.
Jason stood up. He did not need one of his sisters to check out Cass because this wouldn’t be any kind of permanent relationship. This was supposed to be an affair. Short, sweet and to the point. If she thought she could manipulate it into something more, was she wrong. He picked up the whiskey bottle, carried it back to the couch and refilled his glass. Besides, he had what he wanted. He’d gotten her twice in one afternoon and they’d been headed for a hat trick in the kitchen until he’d remembered his one and only condom had ended up in the trash beside her bed. If he’d been a rat about it, he could have been eating her food in her warm house after another nice session in her soft bed.
But besides the legal implications, he didn’t do that kind of thing.
Her comment about where he’d been stung. Although, he didn’t have any right to be upset. She was right. They didn’t know each other well enough to get in too deep, despite his natural inclination to do just that.
His sister the lawyer, however, could dig up most of the dirt he needed. He picked up his phone and hit her preset. While he waited for her to answer, he emptied his glass.
“Hello?”
“Tessa, my favorite sister.” The alcohol was beginning to flow through his veins like antifreeze. He couldn’t even feel his feet anymore. He reached for the bottle. Already half empty. If he didn’t slow down, he’d have to risk those girls at the grocery store again to resupply. He set the bottle down without refilling his glass.
“What have you done, Jason?”
“Nothing. I just wanted you to get some information for me.”
“I see.”
Knowing her, she indeed probably saw everything. Guilt settled in his gut. “Her name is Cassandra Geoffrey. She owns this campground I’m at.”
“Surprise, surprise,” Tessa said. “Do you want me to send you the information there or will you call?”
If a FedEx truck appeared at Cass’s door with a package for him, she probably wouldn’t assume it was a dossier on her. Still, he didn’t like the idea that she might guess something was up. “I’ll call you. She lived in New York City for a while.”
“Well, that will definitely make her easier to hunt down,” his sister retorted.
“Tessa, you’re my favorite lawyer.”
“I hope so. You bought the degree. I’ll tell Mom you made it okay. This shouldn’t take more than a couple of days. Give me a call Monday. Take care, little brother.”
“Thank you, Tessa. See ya.” He tossed the phone on the table and stood to stretch. A hesitant knock at the door interrupted him.
It might be Cass. She might have decid
ed she wanted to give him a second chance. Or she remembered that she’d promised to relight his fire, which would give him a chance to relight hers. Almost willing to admit to excitement at the prospect, he yanked open the door.
Outside, Angela looked like she might flee. “Mr. Callisto?”
Jason stared at her for a minute. Why wasn’t it Cass? What the fuck was the least terrifying grocery store girl even doing here? Then he noticed the plastic grocery bag clutched in her hand. She had promised to bring him dinner tonight. “Hey, Angela, you’re here right on time. Call me Jason.” He stepped back from the door to allow her in, but she stayed rooted to the porch.
“There’s a tree in the drive,” she pointed out.
Beyond her, the tree still lay there. Cass must be eating her dinner or something. He hoped she was eating dinner. ‘Or something’ took in a whole range of messy female emotions that made him guilty. Guiltier.
Angela wasn’t looking at his face, but focused on a spot over his head. The effort canted her head back at an unnecessarily obvious angle. Her blush could heat the living room. Probably the shirtlessness. “Come on in and make yourself at home while I get some clothes on.”
“Okay,” she muttered.
As he walked through the bedroom door, he glanced back. He hoped moving away would give her the breathing room she needed to step inside and close the door. She managed to get the door closed, but that seemed to be it.
Sorting through the clothes he’d brought, he found the raggediest, dowdiest sweater he owned. Angela had known Cass a heck of a long time. Tessa could get Cass’s tax returns, but Angela handled her groceries. The government knew a lot, but the grocer knew more. Between them he could have a very detailed picture of Cass. In return, he could give Angela a huge ego boost by being nice, and from the look of her, she needed it. However, not leading her on while still being friendly would be tricky.
When he reentered the living room, she stood poised for flight in front of the door. She’d never even taken off her coat.
Heaven Beside You Page 10