KISS AND MAKE-UP Page 6

“Is that the truth?” she asked, her tone light.

  “What do you want from me, Cassie?”

  She laughed softly, a sultry sound that rolled over him the same way her subtle scent was flowing over his whole body. “I thought I wanted closure. To see you again and see that the past is over and that I can go on with my life.”

  God, it felt like she’d put a knife in him, even though he’d been telling himself exactly the same thing. It was over. He’d known that for eight years. So why in hell did it wound him to hear the words coming off her gorgeous lips?

  She swallowed, her hand tightening almost reflexively on his leg, until he had to close his eyes in self-protection. “But I don’t know, Wyatt. I’m here now and I see you and all I can think about is the way you tasted like rum punch the first time you kissed me at that beach party.”

  Groaning, he gave himself over to the memory. That night, the flicker of the bonfire had turned Cassie’s hair into a long, living flame and had made her sapphire eyes glow. He’d just met her that day, but he’d already known he was experiencing his first real adult desire. Not young guy lust, but true, genuine desire to explore every erotic, sensual delight with a woman…and wake up with her the next morning.

  He leaned forward a bit. “You tasted like cotton candy.”

  She licked her lips. “And the Celine Dion song from Titanic was playing on Joy Miller’s boom box. She loved that soundtrack.”

  He laughed softly, leaning in a little more. A little closer to her scent. A little closer to her smile. A little closer to madness. “I hated that movie.”

  “I know you did.” She shifted in her seat, until their thighs brushed together. “I loved it.”

  He watched the way her soft, moist lips parted with her exhalations. “I know you did.”

  Then there was no more conversation; there were no more words or platitudes or excuses. They simply came together, cheeks brushing, then lips meeting in a sweet, languorous kiss of reunion and apology. Admission and anticipation.

  Wyatt gave himself one second to regret it, then a full minute to savor it. Tasting her mouth and sharing her breaths, he slipped his tongue between her lips to tangle with hers in a lazy exploration. No tension, no frenzy, no desperation like there had been yesterday in the gym, when the passion had overwhelmed them both. This was just a lazy greeting, a hello after a long time apart. He was saying I missed you. I want you.

  It was like coming home.

  “Ahem.”

  The waitress’s presence beside their table was enough to shock them both to the present. Almost stunned at how overwhelming it had been to kiss Cassie again, Wyatt pulled back and drew in a deep breath. He shifted away. Space was necessary for propriety. And for sanity.

  Once they were alone again, they each sipped deeply from their glasses, though, of course, alcohol would do nothing to cool either of them down. And they both knew it.

  But he needed to stop this in its tracks. In the calm aftermath of a wildly unexpected kiss, Wyatt acknowledged the mistake he’d just made. He’d kissed her, again, and reopened the floodgates. He’d let her start crawling back inside him, allowed her to dig into his heart by way of his libido, a mistake of monumental proportions, and exactly the opposite of what he’d come here tonight to do.

  It was a mistake he needed to correct immediately. So, forcing himself to remain calm and aloof, he leaned back in his seat and eyed her impassively. “Aren’t you worried about things going wrong with your business while you’re gone?”

  He couldn’t believe how normal he sounded. How calm. How focused. Especially when every brain cell he had was telling him to breathe deeper of her scent, to lose himself in her eyes. And reminding him that Cassie had a bed somewhere very close by.

  “I’m not as worried about the business as I am about things continuing to go wrong in my life.”

  Her words were soft, whispered, but they rang in Wyatt’s head. And kept ringing, as more ominous possibilities filled his imagination. “What’s wrong, Cass? You never really answered my question last night. Are you in trouble? Has something happened?” He wondered if she could hear the genuine concern he couldn’t hide, and what she made of it. Hell, he didn’t know what to make of it. All he knew was that the thought of Cassie being sick, or in trouble, filled him with tension. Dread. Fear.

  Just as the thought of her kiss filled him with hunger.

  “Nothing’s happened, not really,” she said. “Just…my grandmother helped me realize I needed to do some reevaluating. Sometimes the past comes back to haunt you and you have to deal with things you’d thought were over. Plus, to be honest, I needed a break from everything. Work, friends…family.”

  Wyatt couldn’t help it, his hand tightened reflexively on his glass as he brought his neat Scotch to his lips. “Your grandmother and parents still trying to run your life?”

  Cassie’s voice shook with emotion as she replied, “Don’t say that. They never controlled me. My family loves me.”

  “Sure they do.” Wyatt sipped again, then put his drink down. “But they also manipulate you into doing whatever they want you to do. They always did, by disappearing whenever you needed them most, or silently disapproving whenever they didn’t like something you’d done.” Like getting married. “They had you jumping through hoops, trying to make them proud of you. Not to mention trying to make them see you as something other than a pretty girl.”

  Cassie was watching him with wide eyes and an open mouth. She looked stunned and confused. And, judging by the way her jaw was clenching, angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You never even met my family.”

  “I didn’t need to,” he replied, feeling weary. “I knew everything there was to know about them whenever you mentioned your childhood. There wasn’t much you wouldn’t do to get their approval. Including selling out your husband.”

  “How dare you say that to me,” she snapped.

  “How dare you do that to me.”

  “I was worried about you and wanted to help you”

  “You were worried about your parents and wanted them to see you as their good little girl again.”

  “Wanting a good relationship with my family was a crime?”

  “No, but trying to get it by selling me to them sure as hell was.”

  Their eyes locked in a long stare, and hers swam with anger and confusion. He knew she was mentally denying his accusations, but she wasn’t doing it verbally. Because she couldn’t. He had said nothing but the truth, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

  From the day they’d met until the day they’d split up, he’d known Cassie was forced to walk a fine line with her family. Many of her relatives, particularly her grandmother, were downright cutthroat. Her parents were, to put it mildly, aloof…more interested in each other than their daughter. Which was why Cassie had been so eager for love, to love and be loved in return. And oh, she’d been so easy to love.

  Cassie hadn’t even touched her drink, but she stood, anyway. “Good night, Wyatt. Thanks for the drink.” Her lips tightened. “Not to mention the psychological evaluation.”

  She turned around and strode through the bar before he could respond. For several long moments, he sat at the table, wondering if he should go and find her, apologize to her, try to dry the tears he suspected were spilling down her cheeks.

  He’d made Cassie cry. Again. God, he felt like a scumbag.

  But maybe it was for the best. Whatever had driven Cassandra Devane to Boston to look him up, maybe the reality of what he thought of her family would be enough to make her leave again. Which—especially after the heated embraces they’d shared—was the best thing for Wyatt’s sanity, and probably Cassie’s, too.

  As for his heart? Well…he wasn’t even going to consider what his heart wanted. It was much too dangerous.

  And much too late.

  Chapter 4

  Cassandra packed her bags that night, deciding to leave the following morning. It was time to get back to New York, t
o her real life. This trip had proved to be a complete waste of time. She hadn’t gotten her closure, but there was still a chance to cut her losses. She could have her lawyer send Wyatt a letter, and the papers, and never have to see him again.

  Alone in the hotel room, she muttered and fumed, crying a bit while talking to herself. She opened the minibar and poured herself what was probably a twenty-dollar ounce of alcohol. It didn’t help. Nothing would get Wyatt’s words out of her head.

  So much for Jackie’s assurances that her brother had “loved her more than life.” He obviously hadn’t if he had such a low opinion of her. Not that she knew the content of Wyatt’s letters, nor did she want to. She’d scolded Jackie for invading her brother’s privacy and had absolutely refused to hear any details.

  That didn’t, however, mean she hadn’t been thinking about them—wondering, imagining—ever since Jackie had opened her mouth. She’d even been playing the “what if” game. As in, “what if” he’d sent her those letters, and “what if” she’d had the guts to answer them.

  But it was too late. Because even if he had felt those things once, he didn’t anymore. Whatever his opinion of her had been back then, he sure didn’t think much of her now. His words proved it, and it hurt. She was hurt. Not to mention depressed.

  Mostly, though, she was mad.

  Wyatt was wrong. Wrong. She wasn’t who she was because of whatever her family wanted. She’d worked her ass off to become the woman she was today. If he was mistaking her for the girl she’d once been, well, he hadn’t really been paying attention to who she was now.

  The girl she’d once been… The words bounced around in her brain, as did Wyatt’s assessment of their marriage. Despite her certainty that he was way off-base, she couldn’t help questioning herself, just a tiny bit.

  What if he was at least partially right? What if she had been seeking a lot more than just her parents’ money? What if she’d always cared more about her family’s opinions than she had about her own happiness, or Wyatt’s pride?

  No. Wyatt was wrong. She knew herself, didn’t she? Dammit, she better know herself after all the self-improvement classes, and, okay, therapy, she’d endured over the years.

  Suddenly needing some assurances that she wasn’t the pathetic-sounding, please-love-me girl Wyatt had described, she reached for her phone and dialed her grandmother.

  “Hello dearest,” the perky old voice said immediately upon answering. “How is it going?”

  “I’m ready to come home.”

  A long pause. Then, “He…didn’t react the way you’d hoped to your marital situation?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I never even got around to telling him about that.”

  “I thought that was the purpose of your trip.”

  “I’ll have a lawyer do it.”

  Her grandmother harrumphed softly. “So there’s no chance of a reconciliation?”

  “None.”

  “He won’t even consider playing the loving husband long enough for you to get your cousin and the rest of the family off your back?”

  Cassandra snorted. “No way. I didn’t mention it, nor would I consider asking him to do any such thing.” Feeling moisture well in her eyes, she added, “And he would refuse if I did. He has no respect for me, whatsoever.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m sorry.”

  “This righting-the-past stuff you shoved down my throat is a load of bull.”

  Her grandmother stayed quiet, as if knowing Cassandra needed to vent.

  “Wyatt accused me of always doing only what my family wanted. Making choices only to please them.”

  “Hmm…”

  She waited but the reserved woman didn’t say another word. “Well? What do you think? I thought the problem was I needed closure in my relationship with Wyatt. Not that I needed to look at my parents’ involvement in my life, and how I react to it.”

  Another pregnant pause. Cassie almost groaned, picturing the frown lines on the older woman’s forehead growing ever deeper. “Do you think he’s right? Is it possible my relationship with my family, my need to please them, was the heart of the reason for my breakup with Wyatt? That it was my fault all along?”

  Papers ruffled again. And her grandmother made a sighing sound.

  Cassandra barely noticed. Because her own words were echoing in her head, suddenly sounding plausible.

  No, she absolutely did not live her life for her family anymore. Her grandmother might have suggested this trip to Boston to see Wyatt in person, but Cassandra was the one who’d made the decision to actually do it. She was fully capable of making her own decisions.

  But this was now. And that—Wyatt, her marriage—was then. Maybe the Cassandra of eight years ago hadn’t been quite as confident and independent as she’d thought.

  “He’s onto something, isn’t he?” she whispered. “Maybe I wasn’t just asking for Mom and Dad’s financial help to set Wyatt up in business. What if I was seeking their approval, knowing how angry they were that I’d married him? Perhaps I was trying to make them happy by showing I still needed them, instead of waiting for them to acknowledge my right to make my own choices.”

  This time Grandmother had the courtesy to grunt a little.

  “And when I got their money but not their blessing,” she continued, still almost thinking out loud, “maybe I…is it possible I subconsciously sabotaged my marriage? Punished Wyatt for it, even? Maybe not even realizing it made him think I was giving him an ultimatum—to take their job or else?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Not intentionally!”

  “Mmm.”

  Cassie began to wearily rub the corners of her eyes. “Damn,” she whispered, finally forcing herself to admit the truth. Grandmother might be right. More importantly, Wyatt might be right. Maybe the problems she and Wyatt had had really weren’t because of money or financial worries. Or because of her need for security and his lack of patience. Maybe they’d simply been about Cassandra making a subconscious choice. The wrong choice. The choice to seek her parents’ approval, rather than have faith in her young husband.

  The realization stunned her into silence for a moment. She stared sightlessly at the wall, the cell phone still up to her ear, and let a montage of images sweep through her mind.

  Images of herself as a young girl. Needy. Lonely.

  Images of herself as a young wife. Scared. Uncertain.

  Images of herself today. A very different person. One who sure wasn’t the type to run when the going got tough.

  She immediately sat straighter on the bed and swung her legs around to dangle off the side of it. “Thank you, Grandmother,” she said, meaning it. “I can’t tell you how much this has helped. You really talked me off a ledge.”

  Her grandmother started to laugh, her amusement taking Cassandra by surprise. Then she said something completely unexpected. “Well, darling, you are most very welcome for my complete silence. Now, are there any other pressing issues you need to work through while I sit here and act as sounding board?”

  Cassandra chuckled as well. “Touché.”

  Disconnecting, she focused on what she had to do. Namely, unpacking.

  Because Cassandra Devane wasn’t going anywhere. Not until she’d had a chance to see if everything she’d been subconsciously seeking for the past eight years had been in the arms of the man she’d let slip away.

  This was no longer about closure, or letting go of the past. And it definitely wasn’t about getting him to sign the divorce papers.

  No. Severing all ties was the last thing she intended to do.

  In fact, she planned to do everything she could to give the two of them a second chance at happiness.

  Over the next few days, Wyatt came to a realization: Cassandra Devane was not going to give up and slip quietly back out of his life.

  He should never have gone along with Jackie’s stupid dinner scheme, or have met Cassie for drinks Wednesday night. Because both of those events had given them a reminder of how goo
d they’d once been together…as social friends during dinner. And as intensely compatible lovers during their crazy kiss at the bar.

  Wyatt couldn’t think about that kiss at the bar. Nor could he allow himself to picture the hurt expression on Cassie’s face after he’d said those cruel things to her. He’d been so certain that driving her away had been the right thing to do. He’d almost been able to ignore his own pain at having done it.

  In the end, though, neither had been true. He couldn’t ignore the pain, and he hadn’t driven her away. Cassie was still here. And she was driving him absolutely nuts by insinuating herself into every part of his life. Not only did he have to hear his sister chattering nonstop about Cassie, but he got the same spiel from his own secretary.

  Worst of all, he had to deal with his ex-wife in the flesh. Very, very tempting flesh.

  God, she’d practically taken up residence in his office. She was constantly coming by, stopping his heart whenever she appeared in the doorway, with that sunny smile and that warm laugh. She always came in on a wave of excitement. Like now, late Friday morning, when she emerged from the elevator, carrying an enormous box. Wyatt’s jaw dropped. “What the hell is this?”

  “Lunch,” she said brightly. “A giant submarine sandwich. Everyone’s been working so hard on this automotive campaign, I figured you could use a break.”

  Sylvia, his secretary, came hurrying out from behind her desk and hoisted one end of the six-foot-long box Cassie was maneuvering around the corner to the break room.

  “Thanks so much, Cassie, everyone will really appreciate this,” Sylvia said.

  As if the box contained an elixir of the gods, every one of Wyatt’s employees poked their heads out of offices or over the tops of cubicles. Sniffing, they followed her like she was the Pied Piper of Hamlin.

  Lunch that day was practically a party, with Cassie serving up slices of turkey sandwich to his staff. She charmed them, praised them and pretty soon had all of the men ready to kiss her feet and all the women lining up to take makeup advice.

  The afternoon wasn’t much better. She came back around three, loaded for bear with a case full of face creams and makeup for his staff. With Sylvia’s help, she gave makeovers to any woman who wanted one. It wasn’t until he heard her chatting up each and every product to his design team that he realized she was working on them—to work for her!