Authors: Christa Maurice
By the time Donny appeared in the plow, Jason had finished Olmec and three pyramids. He’d come in at lunch to warm up, eat and make love. As dusk shrouded the mountain in gray and purple, he came in for the day, eyes shining like a child’s.
“Tomorrow, Easter Island heads,” he announced, setting the gloves and his shoes on the hearth.
Cass laughed as she washed her brushes. She’d blocked in the background colors. Tomorrow she could start making the painting look more like a real scene and less like modern art. “There’s a blanket by the fire for you.”
“I noticed. Thanks.” He stepped behind her and enveloped her in his arms, kissed her cheek. “I think I’ve done permanent damage to my coat. I’ll have to bring a more suitable one next time.” He released her and started out of the room. “And real boots.”
Her fingers went lax and she nearly dropped her brushes. Next time? Would he come back...and could she cope if he did?
She threw all those thoughts into a mental box labeled “emotional horse shit” and shoved it to the back of her mind. “Paul is dying to know if you’re going to be at the dance tonight.”
His brows lowered in a wary, puzzled expression. “Why?”
“I think he wants to dance with you.”
Jason roared with laughter. “Really? Would that rattle the whole town? Would he let me lead?”
“If you say please, I think he’ll let you wipe your shoes on his back.” Cass set her brush on the back splash to dry then stirred the spaghetti sauce she’d been simmering all afternoon. She must have been thinking of herself when that doormat analogy came to mind.
Now he stood behind her, a wall of heat and man, wrapping a curl around his finger. “Are you asking me to the dance?” he asked in a low tone that made the hair on the back of her neck rise in a good way.
“Technically, I think it was Paul who asked, but I’ll drive if you like.”
“Do you want me to go to the dance with you?”
“If you’d enjoy it.” She measured out the noodles with trembling fingers.
“Do you want me to go to the dance?”
She turned around and pressed her hands against the counter behind her back. “Only if you want to go. I just thought I’d mention it.”
Searching her gaze, he grazed her cheeks with his knuckles. “I’d like to dance with you. In public, where people will see us, but I don’t want to cause problems.”
Cass looked down, aware of Jason’s tense breathing. He’d continued his trip down her cheek, slid his hand around her throat and tangled it in the hair at the back of her neck. She wanted to dance with him in public, too. For the town to see the way he looked at her. Then they’d know her marriage hadn’t failed because she wasn’t desirable.
But he was right. The town would spin a wild tale about her and her winter guest that would be entirely true, and she’d be the pathetic abandoned woman for the rest of her life.
“Or,” he offered, “we could go to the dance and pretend to be nothing more than concierge and guest, and when we got home, we could dance together like we mean it.”
Cass looked up. She doubted it hurt him half as much to make the offer as it had for her to accept it. “I think that’s the only way. We don’t have to go at all.”
His grip tightened on the back of her neck, and he pursed his lips, frowning for an instant, then his smile lit his features. “I think it would disappoint the town if we didn’t go.”
She smirked. “Can’t have that. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. And my dad said if you’d like to learn some of the old mountain songs, he’d teach you.”
“Really? That would be great.”
“Just bring your guitar.” Tears threatened, but she blinked them back. When she’d been with Michael, she’d gone to exactly one church dance, and felt like a giant wallflower. He’d flitted around the room charming everyone and left her to sit with her parents. Though she’d been comfortable at those dances, he’d made it such hell. Please let Jason not make the dance hell for her. “I guess I’ll have to get something out to wear.” The noodles needed at least seven minutes. Time enough, to check her closet.
“Is this a dressy thing?” Jason followed her to the bedroom and sat on the foot of the bed to watch her search.
“Only sort of. They won’t refuse to let you in if you don’t have a tie.” In the depths of her closet, she reached for the nicer clothes that didn’t suit her campground managing lifestyle, but she hadn’t been willing to give up. Along with a few things in her underwear drawer, they were the last vestiges of her New York life.
“What’s that?”
She turned toward him, holding a navy blue skirt. “What’s what?”
Jason reached around her. His hand closed over a dry cleaning bag. He shook it free of the clinging clothes around it, pulled it out of the closet.
“Oh, that,” she murmured. Heat rushed into her cheeks.
Oh that
was a floor length, strapless, brilliant yellow silk sheath dress. He held it up to her, studying her and let out a low whistle. “Why don’t you wear this?”
“To the Baptist Church Saturday night dance? I think I’d be overdressed.”
“Will you wear it for me? Not to the dance. Later.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to take it off you,” he said in that voice that did the most delicious things to her insides, grinning.
She couldn’t help but smile. “Then maybe I should wear the coat with it.” She reached in the closet and pulled out another dry cleaning bag. This one held a long black velvet coat with wide lapels. The hem of the full skirt started at the knee in the front and curved to floor length in the back. A glittering brooch clasped the low neckline closed just below her breasts. “Or would you rather I wore this.” She drew out yet another dry cleaning bag. This one held a white satin bolero jacket with a high Mandarin collar.
Jason pulled the bag off the dress, stroking the material as he dropped the gown on the bed. Then he took out the bolero jacket and laid it beside the dress. Last, he lifted the velvet coat from her fingers and removed the bag. He pressed the lapel to his cheek, breathing deeply. It had to smell like dry cleaning, but he didn’t seem to care. “This one. Wear this one for me.”
The thought of wearing those clothes again made her skin crawl, and she turned away. Looking was one thing, having those clothes on her flesh again was quite another. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t left them behind in New York. He looked so excited. Why? He’d been on red carpets with women wearing much nicer things than this. If it made him that happy, though, she could bear to put them on again. “All right. I’ll put it on for you tomorrow.”
“Tonight.”
She shook her head. “I’ll think about it.”
“Why do you have these dresses?” he asked, sinking onto the bed beside them.
“For Michael. We had to go to parties sometimes, and I needed formal wear. I didn’t want to buy a whole bunch of dresses I couldn’t afford, so I bought one dress and two jackets. Sasha called them The Dress, Bride of the Dress, and The Dress Strikes Back. I think the velvet was The Dress Strikes Back.” Cass scowled. “She thought it was tacky that I showed up for everything in the same dress.”
“She probably thought it was tacky that you were married to her lover.”
That about summed it up, but still, it made her flinch.
Jason’s hands closed around her shoulders. She hadn’t even heard him stand up. “I didn’t mean that.”
She patted his hand. “It’s probably true.”
Then she was turned, facing him, and he kissed her, sliding his hands down her back, urging her tight against him. Tasting the inside of her mouth with his tongue. Arms around his neck, she allowed him to lift her to her toes. Her pulse felt indistinguishable from his as he wove his fingers through the hair at her nape, sending a frisson of pleasure down her spine. He curved his hands around her buttocks, pulled her off her feet. With her legs wrapped around his waist, he carried her to the side of the bed and laid her down.
“Dinner will burn,” she pointed out.
“Not if we turn it off first.”
* * * *
The dance had been going for forty-five minutes when Cass parked the truck two blocks from the church. Based on the lack of spaces, the entire town had turned out. Holding the neck of her peacoat closed against the icy wind, she hurried to the doors with him. She hoped she didn’t look flushed. Her lips still felt swollen from Jason’s kisses. He’d sat on the bed watching her dress, disrupting any thoughts she’d had about last-minute instructions.
She’d meant to tell him to keep his distance at the dance so nobody would pick up on them, that they should leave at different times so it would look like they drove there separately and to warn him that Kady and Cori would be in rare form.
Jason opened the door of the fellowship hall. Faint Lawrence Welk wafted out into the night. She should have warned him about that, too.
Betsy Partrager looked up from the little table outside the doors and grinned. Behind the rims of her glasses, her eyes sparkled like aquamarines. A rhinestone studded barrette held her snow white hair away from her face.
“Well, now you’re here,” she said, “I suppose I can go inside and enjoy the fun myself.” Her January pin glinted in the low light, a snowman acquired from Avon many years ago and missing a few stones including one red eye. Next month it would be a cupid whose arrow had broken during the Regan administration.
“What?” Cass asked.
“Well, the whole town is here, aren’t they? If this was Election Day, I’d be dancing on my toes.”
In a clearer mind, Cass would have snorted in response. Betsy made sure everyone in town voted, if she had to send her three sons out to get them and bring them to the polls. She’d even sent Donny up with the snowplow one March for Cass when she’d gotten snowed in.
“It’ll be two dollars for each of you.”
Jason handed her a ten. “Keep the change.”
“Oh, well thank you, Mr. Callisto, and may I tell you, we’re all tickled you decided to vacation here. I hope you’re having a good time.”
“I am having a wonderful time,” he answered, smiling.
“I see you brought your guitar, are you going to play for us tonight?”
“Cass’s father is going to teach me some old songs.”
“Are my parents here?” Cass broke in before something unfortunate popped out.
“They certainly are. Everyone is. Even Kady Stern and Cori Gwynn, and the way those girls are dressed is just shameful. You would think they were in a disco, instead of a church.”
Cass smiled through gritted teeth and glanced up at Jason. He seemed amused by the prospect of facing the girls again.
“Finn’s here, too,” Betsy said. “He was asking if you’d gotten here yet. I think he wants to talk to you about that pasture of Bill Wernick’s.”
If only the universe would stop throwing bricks at her. All her business seemed to be public record and her one dirty little secret was standing right next to her. When had coming to this dance seemed like a good idea? “I guess we should all go inside then, shouldn’t we?” She pushed open the door and walked down the stairs with weak knees.
The hall did appear to be filled to capacity, and everyone in their Sunday best, with the possible exceptions of Cori Gwynn and Kady Stern. Cori wore a skirt so short and slung so low around her waist Cass thought she had tied a wide flocked ribbon around her hips until she realized the skirt, if it could be called that, was suede. Kady had gone for a pair of black bell-bottoms so tight, how she managed to walk in them, let alone move as fast as she was closing in on them—or rather, Jason—was a mystery.
“Cass.” Finn appeared at her side like a genie. “I need to talk to you.”
Cass stopped and Jason copied her. She wondered if he’d caught sight of Kady and Cori yet. In fact, she wondered if their mothers had caught sight of them. “What is it?”
Finn glared over Cass’s shoulder at Jason. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Cass privately. It’s about business.”
Wild laughter rose in her throat. What private business? Half the town probably knew her underwear size. “If this is about that pasture, he already knows, and if I’m getting audited, everybody’s going to know soon enough.”
“I’d prefer to talk to you alone.” The tips of Finn’s ears had begun to turn red.
“Oh, Mr. Callisto, I heard you were going to be here.” Kady pulled up short of falling on Jason and tottered back on her high heels. Her top looked like it came from a bondage catalog. “Is this your guitar? Can I see it?”
“Mr. Callisto, I hope you’re going to play something tonight,” Cori purred, stepping between Jason and Cass and slipping her arm through his. “You’ve got to save us from this boring old people music.”
“Listen, Cass,” Finn said, “I’ve talked to Bill and told him his price is absurd. I think we can bring him down.”
“We’re going to have to bring him down a lot. I don’t have that kind of money.” Jason was being drawn away by Cori and Kady, but when Cass looked over her shoulder the whole group had been intercepted by the minister. The minister might be able to control things.
“Let’s go talk to him. I’ll get you a good deal.” Finn put an arm around her shoulders.
His possessiveness hemmed her in, and she turned as if she wanted to look around the room, letting Finn’s arm fall away. “Where is he?”
Within minutes, the crowd had swallowed up Jason. Cass gritted her teeth for negotiations. She ended up hardly having to say a word. Finn negotiated and Bill played hardball. Cass found herself sitting at a table with a cup of punch, watching the tennis match over her money. She spotted Jason dancing a few times, mostly with town matriarchs who looked elated, but once with Kady, who spent most of the waltz trying to grind her hips against his. Jason spent his time trying to keep daylight between them.
“Hi, swee’pea, Bill, Finn,” her dad greeted them as he sat down in the chair beside her. He nodded to the men, but focused on her. “The minister says your boy is here, but I haven’t seen him yet.”
Finn wore a dark scowl, obviously because of the reference to Jason as
her boy
, but she didn’t let it bother her. “Oh, he’s here. Last time I noticed, he was dancing.”
“When did you kids get here?”
She looked at her watch. “Almost an hour ago. You know how famous people like to be late.”