Bayview Heights Trilogy (26 page)

Wearing a three-piece navy blue suit, a light
blue shirt and a tasteful striped tie, Youngblood grinned broadly
at her. Even his shoes were spit-shined. The entire outfit was
brand new.

Austyn Jones had joined them and whistled
when he saw Mike. “Hey, Youngblood. Where’d ya get those duds?”

“Down at the Hub.”

“Man, how you afford that store?”

Mitch said smoothly, “I made him a loan. He’s
working it off by painting the inside of my town house on
weekends.”

Cassie’s heart swelled when she realized what
had happened.
I’ll talk to Youngblood before I leave,
Mitch had said today.

“You look great, Mike.” Cassie gave Mitch a
sideways glance.

The music switched abruptly to an old Beatles
tune, and several of the kids—including Johnny and Meg—hit the
dance floor. The rest went in search of punch, leaving Mitch and
Cassie alone.

Cassie stared at Mitch knowingly, until he
said, “What?”

“Thanks. For what you did for Mike.”

Mitch stuck his hands in his pockets and
watched the dancers. “I didn’t do anything. I told you he’s working
it off.”

“Oh, sure. Painting the brand new walls in
your town house.”

“Builders use cheap paint. Besides, I’m
thinking of doing my bedroom over and thought a couple of black
walls might be an interesting change.”

Cassie laughed.

“You can give me your opinion later, when you
see it.”

Then he leaned over and whispered, “You’re
gonna pay, lady, for wearing that dress.”

Her breath hitched at his husky innuendo.
“Why, whatever do you mean?”

“It hugs that cute little behind of yours,
Cassandra, and you know it.” He gave her a searing look. “I can’t
wait to get my hands on you.”

“You’ll have to,” she said, laughing. “But
I’ll make it worth the wait. After all, I never renege on my
bribes.”

They both chuckled at how she’d gotten him to
attend the dance—by agreeing to spend the rest of the weekend at
his house.

Some payment
, she thought.

They watched the kids for a minute in
contented silence.

“Johnny’s great out there,” Mitch said.

“Yes, I didn’t know he could dance like
that.”

“A skill all hunks should develop.”

“Oh, yeah?” Cassie gave him a sexy up-and-
down perusal. “I don’t see you out there.”

Despite the fact that they were in a crowded
party house, in front of hundreds of students, Mitch slid his arm
around her shoulders and briefly hugged her. “Trying to turn my
head with compliments?”

“Maybe.”

“You’d better stop flirting with me. That
dress and that sparkle in your eyes is enough. Don’t stretch my
control by turning on the charm, too.”

“Okay, I’ll just resort to being my old,
prickly self.”

Again, he laughed. It was then that Cassie
realized how unfamiliar his response was—she hadn’t heard him laugh
this much since she met him.

They socialized with the kids and several
staff members for the next half hour.

Then Tara Romig approached them. Dance star
that she was, she’d been spinning around the floor since Cassie had
arrived. The DJ had just begun “Rock-Around-the-Clock.” Tara said
breathlessly, “Can you guys jitterbug?”

All the kids joked and made wisecracks. When
no one would dance with her, she shook her head. “What’s the matter
with you?”

Mitch stepped forward. “They’re all young
punks, Tara. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

Tara’s eyes lit up like twinkling stars.
“Really, Captain?”

“Really, Ms. Romig.” He held out his
hand.

Tara took it and they made their way to the
dance floor.

Cassie’s mouth fell open as she watched Mitch
fall into step with the trained dancer. It was incredible.

His feet moved fast and smoothly. He pulled
Tara to him with both hands, then spun her around. As soon as she
was sure of his rhythm, she went with him, giving an extra spin,
sliding along his arm. Once, he dipped her. She gave herself to it
then, reversing her hands so Mitch could spin. He did, then grabbed
her around the waist and let her do a complicated turn.

Cassie was so enthralled, she didn’t see the
kids on the floor moving until they had circled Mitch and Tara. Her
own students sidled in so they could see, and Cassie followed suit.
For another few minutes, Mitch and Tara tore up the floor. Mitch’s
cheeks were flushed but his eyes were shining with pleasure.

When the song ended, the kids whistled and
clapped. The DJ immediately played another jitterbug tune. Tara and
Mitch danced again.

Seth came up to Cassie in the midst of it.
“He’s a man of many talents.”

Unable to tear her eyes away, Cassie nodded.
“He is.”

Seth chuckled, but it turned into a frown
when Macarena music came on. “Oh, no.”

“What?” Cassie asked.

“I told the student government if they got
more than eighty per cent of the student body to attend, I’d let
them teach me the Macarena.”

Cassie giggled. “This I’ve got to see.”

The president of the student government made
the announcement that Mr. Taylor was going to dance, and asked
everyone to join them. Lines formed as Cassie stepped back.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Mitch came forward and
grabbing her hand. “Get out here.”

Cassie retreated farther. “No, no, Mitch,
I...”

He was dragging her toward the floor. “Mitch,
really.” She grabbed his arm. “Mitch!” He stopped. “I can’t
dance.”

“What?”

“I said, I can’t dance. It’s one of those
social things I never learned.”

“You mean, my little volleyball jock can’t
master a few steps?”

She angled her chin.

“My tough cookie who walked the streets of
the Village alone is afraid of a little line dancing?”

Her eyes flared. “Oh, shut up. All right,
I’ll try.”

Cassie reached the floor, gripping Mitch’s
hand. Seth had pretty much mastered the few steps, and Tara took
over with Cassie. Mitch, of course, fell right into line, effecting
each turn, arm movement and shimmy of his body easily and
fluidly.

Damn it, Cassie wasn’t giving up.

A long ten minutes later, Mitch pulled her
close when an old Elvis Presley tune came on. “Think you can handle
this one?” he teased.

She glided into his arms but tried to keep a
respectable distance. “I think I can.”

“You did pretty good out there,” he said, his
breath close to her ear.

“I managed.” She looked up at him. He looked
younger, more animated than she’d ever seen him. “Where’d you learn
to dance like that?”

“In Nam. Some of the guys in my squad said it
was pitiful how white guys couldn’t dance. They taught us all their
moves. Then a couple of the officers decided we all needed to learn
the old stuff.”

She grinned. “It’s sexy.”

“Sexy, huh?” He ran his hand down her back,
stopping at her waist. “You wanna see sexy, I’ll show you
sexy--later.”

Cassie settled into him and looked around the
room. Johnny was glued to Meg, and they were barely moving. Jones
was dancing with Tara, and several others had paired up. A few of
her students stood on the sidelines, but they were smiling and
joking with one another.

Cassie felt a deep and abiding contentment as
she rested her head on Mitch’s chest and heard his heart thud
reassuringly beneath her ear.

o0o

NO ONE INSIDE saw the shadowed figure step
back away from the window into the snow.

No one inside heard him turn to his companion
and say, “Yeah, he’s here. They’re all here.”

o0o

MITCH'S MASTER BEDROOM didn't need painting.
Huge, furnished in smooth, cool teak, it sported a king-size bed,
built-in closets and a glossy wall unit holding books, a
television, a DVD and stereo. Recessed lighting gave the room a
soft, sensual glow.

Donned in clingy teal silk pajamas, Cassie
stepped out of the bathroom onto the plush, off-white carpeting.
Mitch was sprawled on top of the bed, his hands linked behind his
head. He’d undressed and the dark green top sheet was flipped over
his lap. Matching pillows behind his head made his eyes forest
green. She was drawn toward him. When she got to the bed, he
reached for her. Slowly, she straddled him. Provocatively, she bent
over and kissed his naked chest.

“Payback time?” she murmured into his
skin.

He slid his hands inside the waistband of her
pajamas and cupped her bottom. “No more teasing, love,” he told
her. “I want you now.”

But there were words after, as they cuddled
under the heavy down comforter. Apparently, the earlier, easy
camaraderie and then the closeness of sex had made him want to
confide in her. About Vietnam.

“I was so disillusioned when I got there,” he
told her hoarsely. “They faked body counts to make it look like we
were winning. And too many U.S. fatalities were friendly fire.”

Lying on her side, Cassie crooked her arm,
rested her head on her hand and combed the hair off his forehead.
“That’s horrible.”

“It was an atrocity.”

She kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to
go through it.”

His eyes hazy with hurt, he pulled her close
and said, “Me, too.” They cuddled in spoon-like fashion, and there
were no nightmares for Mitch as he held on to her as they
slept.

On Saturday afternoon, they lazed by the fire
as light, fluffy snow drifted by the window. Mitch was distracting
Cassie by tracing a tiny line of freckles from her shoulder to her
chest, unbuttoning her sweater along the way. Her skin warmed
beneath his fingers.

Gazing at him, she asked, “I know you never
married. But you never wanted any kids?”

Mitch felt himself closing down—but her eyes
stopped the reflexive action. There was so much trust in them.

“I was too young to think about it before I
went to Nam. Then after what I saw, what I did, I could never let
anyone close enough. And I didn’t want to bring a child into this
world.”

“I used to feel that way, too,” she said,
running her palms down his back. “But then I decided I could
protect her, and help her in ways I never got helped.”

“Her, huh?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t you like your own little
bundle of sugar and spice to take care of?”

Mitch hadn’t thought he would, but right
then, gazing down into Cassie’s expressive face, he wanted things
he’d never even considered before.

She’d planned to leave Sunday afternoon, but
he enticed her into showering with him. They’d soaped most of his
body and half of hers when he braced her against the tile wall and
took her. He felt full and firm and totally male against her,
inside her. Cassie gasped for breath as the water turned cold on
her fiery skin.

She wanted to snuggle afterward in bed.

Mitch held her close and kissed her hair.
“You said there were things you’d never told anyone before.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me one.”

She shook her head, burying her face in his
chest.

“Tell me.”

Cassie drew in a deep breath. Dark secrets
were meant to be hidden.

“Just one,” he pleaded.

She finally said, “One of my mother’s
boyfriends seduced me when I was sixteen. He was a cop.”

Mitch uttered a crude expletive. “That helps
to explain your prejudice against the police.”

“Uh-huh. But it wasn’t all his fault. I was
willing. I’d been with boys before.” She sighed heavily. “When all
the AIDS information came out, I got tested because of what I’d
done. I was lucky to get a clean bill of health. I’ve been ashamed
of all of it for a long time.”

“You were a kid, Cass.”

“Yeah. A really mixed-up kid.”

He pulled her closer, entangling his legs
with hers. “It’s why you’ve been careful in your adult life, isn’t
it?”

“Yes. I respect myself more.”

“I respect you, too.”

Mitch kissed her goodbye at eight o’clock
that night, telling her to drive carefully and call him when she
got home. Happier than she’d ever been, she left him standing
barefoot and sexily mussed in his doorway.

LATE THE NEXT DAY, Cassie’s throat felt as if
someone had stuffed a sock in it. Steeling herself as best she
could, she surveyed her living room, focusing on the shambles in
the middle of the floor. From behind her, Mitch rested his hand on
her shoulder and squeezed it.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he said.

Biting her lip, Cassie breathed in deeply and
swallowed hard. These were only material things, she told herself.
All her life she’d resisted getting attached to “things.” Oh, she
liked pretty clothes, comfortable furniture, a new car. But
ultimately, she’d never let them matter too much to her. So this
was okay, she repeated silently, she could handle it.

“Is it all right to touch them now?” she
asked Mitch.

“Yes,” he told her, his voice strained. “We
secured the whole area last night. The forensic team was here early
this morning and got whatever prints there were. They took
pictures, too.”

Cassie sank to her knees. Gingerly, she
reached to the top of the pile. Her chest tightened.

“What is it?” Mitch asked, squatting down
next to her.

“A yearbook.” She stared at it before tossing
it aside, then waded through more of the heap. “They’re all here.
All my yearbooks. For every year I taught. Every single one is
either torn apart or covered with the paint.” Her voice caught on
the last words.

“Honey, maybe you should let me and some of
the guys clean this up.”

“No.” The word was sharper than she intended.
She reached for his hand and squeezed it in apology. “I told you
last night I wanted to do it. Something may be salvageable.”

“I don’t think so, Cass.”

“I want to see for myself.”

“All right.” Mitch stood. “I’ll be back
here.” He indicated the rear of the room. “I want to make sure that
window is secured.”