Lone Star Nights (10 page)

More staring at him. “Okay.” Lucky figured what she was doing was using a therapist's ploy: waiting for him to spill more.

He wouldn't.

“Why don't you check on the girls?” he asked. It was time to get to his feet and head out. “I'll see about getting us some more coffee and some breakfast.” Lucky walked away, hoping that was the end of the subject for Cassie.

It'd never be the end of it for him, though.

Lucky had plenty of memories of that night he'd become an orphan, and he didn't intend to share them with Cassie or anyone else. He hadn't been able to save his mom and dad.

They had both died in a car crash that could have been prevented.

And it was all his fault.

* * *

C
ASSIE
WATCHED
AS
Lucky walked away. She didn't need any psychology degrees to know something was bothering him. Maybe something on that piece of paper that he'd shoved into his pocket.

Something he clearly hadn't wanted her to see.

For just a second she had considered trying to talk him into showing it to her, but it was his own business and had nothing to do with her. And it wasn't as if she didn't have anything else to do. She had to deal with the girls, and that started with her knocking on the door of the guest room where they were staying.

No answer.

It wasn't exactly late, just after eight, but she couldn't imagine the girls—well, Mia anyway—ignoring a knock. Cassie knocked again. Still no answer, and she was about to test the knob when the door opened. Relief flooded through her when she saw Mia. Panic came just as fast, though, when she didn't see Mackenzie.

“I can't tie my shoes,” Mia said. She tried to stick out one foot and nearly lost her balance. Cassie caught onto her to stop her from falling.

“I'll tie them for you. Uh, where's your sister?”

“Bathroom. It takes Kenzie a long time to do stuff in there.”

Yes, it had to take time to spackle on that much makeup. The bathroom was en suite, but the door was closed and Cassie didn't hear anyone moving around. Since there was a window in there, it was possible Mackenzie had used it to get away. But Cassie rethought that. She wouldn't just abandon Mia. Well, she wouldn't if Cassie's theory was right.

Of course, that theory was just as likely to be wrong. It wasn't as if she had a stellar track record when it came to doling out diagnoses.

Cassie set Mia on the bed so she could tie her shoes. She hurried, too. All in all, the little girl had done a good job dressing herself in a pair a pink overalls with a white shirt beneath.

“I pulled up my own panties,” Mia volunteered. “And I didn't get 'em bunched up.”

Cassie wasn't sure if that was a big accomplishment or not for a four-year-old, but she said, “Good girl,” and made her way to the bathroom door. She leaned in, pressed her ear against it and almost fell when Mackenzie threw it open.

“I'm still here, all right?” Mackenzie snarled. “And I wrote that stupid apology to the old woman at the ugly lawyer's office.”

Since it had worked with Mia, Cassie went with another mumbled “Good girl,” though it didn't have the same effect on Mackenzie. Mia had smiled at Cassie. Mackenzie was sporting her usual scowl and a fresh slathering of makeup. Sheez, considering the amount she used, her entire suitcase had to be filled with the stuff.

Mackenzie thrust a Post-it note at her. “Take it. It's the apology.”

Cassie did take it and saw the two words scrawled there. “I'm sorry.”

“I told Kenzie to say it like she means it, and that'll make the lawyer lady feel better,” Mia said.

“I do mean it!” Mackenzie growled. “I mean it because I want to get everybody off my back.”

It probably wasn't the heart-wrenching regret and promise that she'd never do it again that Wilhelmina would be looking for. Hopefully, it would be enough to keep the woman from going through with filing those charges, though. Cassie hated to think that Lucky might have to kiss Wilhelmina, or something more, just to get Mackenzie off the hook. There was also the added problem of Mackenzie not learning anything if Lucky paid for her crimes.

Of course, Lucky wouldn't want to have to pimp himself out to pay for those crimes, either. It wasn't as if Wilhelmina were a tasty morsel like Livvy.

“Cat!” Mia squealed.

Cassie whirled around, expecting to see Ethan's yellow cat, but this one was black. And it was one that Cassie recognized.

Oh, no. He hadn't.

Cassie hurried toward the stairs and encountered another cat. Yet another one she recognized. Both of them had belonged to Dixie Mae, which meant her father had dropped them off.

Or rather he was still dropping them off, she realized, when she spotted Mason-Dixon in the foyer.

He was in the process of letting a third one out of a kitty kennel. The moment the Siamese was free, she shot toward the hall. Her father stood there, smiling, the trio of kennels now at his feet. And he wasn't alone. Della was there.

“Mason-Dixon let himself in,” Della said, sounding about as pleased with this visit as Cassie was. “I should have locked the door after I brought in the newspaper.”

Her father offered no apology for that. “This'll teach Dixie Mae,” he said. Which was a stupid thing to say.

“Gran's dead,” Cassie reminded him. “You can't teach her anything now. Besides, you gave me two days to find homes for the cats, and it hasn't even been twenty-four hours.”

“What's going on here?” Lucky asked, coming into the foyer.

He was holding the folded piece of paper, the one he'd had in the hall earlier, and he stuffed it back into his pocket. Judging from his expression, whatever was on it was bad news. Or maybe the expression was simply for the bad news right in front of them.

Her father.

“I'm delivering the cats.” Her father looked as if he wanted to add some profanity to that, but he must have changed his mind. Maybe because he spotted the kids who'd followed Cassie down the stairs, but it was more likely because Lucky was giving him a “make my day” kind of glare.

“You could have called me first,” Cassie scolded. “Or at least knocked.”

“I'm tired of being polite.” Laughable since Mason-Dixon was rarely polite. “I was also tired of waiting for you to do something about this mess your idiot grandmother made.”

“I've been busy,” Cassie grumbled.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Her father's attention landed on Mackenzie. “Dixie Mae left you a mess, too.”

That was
not
the right thing to say. Lucky stepped forward as if he might slug him. Cassie wouldn't have minded that so much—Mason-Dixon deserved a good butt-whipping—but she didn't want that to happen in front of the girls.

“Just leave,” Cassie told her father. But then she paused and glanced at the three kennels again. “Where are the other three cats?”

Her father smiled.

Oh, no. That couldn't be good.

“Here's how this will work,” he said. “You get the rest of the cats, and I get half of whatever Dixie Mae leaves you. Up front. I don't want to wait weeks for her will to be read. Find out what she left you and write me a check for half. I'm giving you two days. If not, you'll never see the other three cats again.”

Cassie glanced at Lucky and Della to make sure she'd heard her father correctly. Apparently, she had, because they looked just as bewildered as she felt. Well, Della did anyway. Lucky looked ready to start that butt-whipping.

“You're holding the cats for ransom?” Lucky asked.

“You're damn right I am. Dixie Mae didn't give me a choice. She's the one who started this by giving me those cats. Well, I'm the one finishing it. Pay up.”

Cassie shook her head. “It's possible that Gran didn't leave me any money in the will.”

“Oh, she left you plenty all right. And if she didn't leave it to you, she left it to him.” Mason-Dixon shot Lucky a glare. “Either way, I want to get paid, and I want it to happen sooner than later.”

Lucky stepped closer. “Or?”

Mason-Dixon smiled again. “That's the thing, Cassie won't know what the
or
will be. And I know she wouldn't want to see anything happen to her grandmother's precious cats.”

“I'll call the sheriff,” Della volunteered.

But that only caused her father to laugh. “Dixie Mae left those cats to me. They're mine now. The sheriff can't take my property without cause, and for now I'm not giving him any cause.” He headed out the door and down the porch steps. “Pay up,” her father added in a growl as he left.

Lucky started to go after him, but Cassie took hold of his arm. “Don't give him the fight he wants. I'll figure a way to work this out.” Though at the moment she couldn't think of how to do that.

So much was hitting her at once, and all Cassie wanted to do was curl up somewhere and calm down before she had another panic attack.

Thankfully, Lucky didn't go after Mason-Dixon. They all just stood there and watched her father drive away while the cats darted around the room. Cassie shut the door to keep them from darting outside, and when she turned Mia was there, her hand outstretched. She had the gold star that Livvy had given her in her palm.

“I can use my wish to make you happy,” Mia said.

It was such a touching gesture that it brought tears to her eyes. Of course, she'd been on the verge of crying all morning—heck, all night—so just about anything would have set her off. Still, it was an amazing thing from an amazing little girl.

“Thank you,” Cassie told her. “But you keep it. Use it on something for yourself.”

It probably wasn't a good thing for her to continue to let Mia believe the star was magic, but Cassie was too drained to change that now. Maybe Mia wouldn't be too disappointed when it didn't work.

“You want me to make some calls to see if anyone is willing to give at least one of these cats a good home?” Della asked.

Cassie nodded. Thanked her, too. Cassie would have loved to have kept the cats herself, but she couldn't. Not unless she moved. And changed her work schedule to stay home more. If she did that, she'd basically have to quit her job, which would mean she would have no income.

“So, you gonna pay him or what?” Mackenzie asked. She didn't seem especially concerned one way or another.

“No,” Lucky answered before Cassie could say anything. “You're not paying that duckweed a dime. I'll find out where the other three cats are and...negotiate to get them back.”

Since he paused before the word
negotiate
, Cassie was concerned. “What does that mean exactly?” she asked.

Lucky looked her straight in the eyes. “It means I steal them.”

Cassie was about to give him several reasons why he couldn't do that. Well, one reason anyway. He'd be arrested. But the sound of the approaching car stopped her, and she hurried to the sidelight window to look out. Maybe, just maybe, her father had had a change of heart—or to be more accurate, acquired a heart—and had decided to give her the rest of the cats.

But it wasn't her father's yellow Cadillac. It was a taxi, and it came to a stop directly in front of the house.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Della asked.

Cassie nodded. But certainly not this early. She wasn't ready to deal with...

Too late.

The taxi door opened, and the woman stepped out. Marla Candor.

“Hey, I've seen her on TV,” Della said. “She's on one of those reality shows. A skanky one.”

Yes, she was. She was also Cassie's client.

Marla had followed in the paths of other reality stars to achieve fame. She'd done a sex tape, then made sure it was leaked to the press. When that hadn't given her the desired results, she'd made six more tapes. She also had a laundry list of mental issues that probably couldn't be addressed with a lifetime of therapy, much less the weekly session she scheduled with Cassie.

And her real name was Wendi Myrtle Stoddermeyer.

Marla wasn't alone on this particular visit. But then she never was. She had a cameraman with her who would film every minute of the session so that the best parts could be edited and included in the TV show. Of course, the “best parts” would be when Marla talked about her so-called sex addiction. Cassie wasn't convinced that sex was her addiction so much as her need for people to hear about her having sex.

“Della, would you please take the girls to the kitchen?” Cassie asked.

Thankfully, Della scurried them away.

“You should go, as well,” Cassie said to Lucky.

But it was too late. Marla's attention had already landed on Lucky. Her eyes widened. She smiled, and while she didn't exactly lick her lips, it was close.

“Cassandra,” Marla purred after she told the taxi driver to wait. But the purr was really for Lucky. So were the massive boobs she thrust in his direction. “I need to see you right away. It's been days since I had an orgasm, and I'm about to explode. And I see the very person who can help me with that.”

“Play along,” Cassie whispered to Lucky.

To save him from Marla's clutches, and the rest of the horny woman, Cassie leaned in and kissed him.

CHAPTER NINE

L
UCKY
HAD
BEEN
so focused on their guest—and he used that term loosely—that he hadn't seen the kiss coming. A first for him. He could usually spot the beginnings of a kiss at fifty paces, but here Cassie had been elbow-to-elbow with him and it had still taken him by surprise.

Not the surprise of the kiss itself.

He knew it was fake. No doubt meant to stop Marla from jumping him right there in the foyer so she wouldn't “explode.” But the surprise came from the fact that for a fake kiss, it sure packed a wallop.

Oh, man.

This wasn't good. Fake kisses weren't supposed to taste like that. Or feel like that. He hadn't exactly had a barn full of fake kisses, but Lucky had some pretty realistic expectations in that area. This kiss had shot those expectations to smithereens.

“Oh,” Marla said, making her way up the steps. “So that's how it is.”

Cassie pulled away from Lucky, and he couldn't help but notice that she was breathing a little harder than she had been ten seconds ago. So maybe it had exceeded her expectations, too.

“Yes,” Cassie insisted. “Marla, this is my
friend
, Lucky McCord.”

That perked Marla right up. “A friend who shares his benefits?”

“No,” Cassie said without hesitation. “His benefits are exclusively with me for the time being.”

That didn't perk up Marla at all. “So, what about—”

“Come on,” Cassie interrupted. “We should get started with the session. I'm sure you're anxious to get back to LA.”

Marla looked far more anxious to examine his benefits, but Cassie hurried her out of the foyer and in the direction of the office she'd already scoped out.

“You gotta watch her hands,” the cameraman whispered to Lucky as he trailed along behind them.

It was obvious Cassie was trying to keep Lucky well out of reach of Marla's hands. Also obvious that she hadn't wanted Marla to finish whatever she'd been about to say.

That might have something to do with the note Logan had given him.

Soon, he'd need to talk to Cassie about that, but for now he had a cat issue to deal with, and he also needed to call Bernie to see what progress had been made on finding the girls' aunt or some other next of kin.

Lucky made his way to the kitchen, dodging two of the cats along the way. Since he doubted Mason-Dixon had brought litter boxes, he moved that particular task to the top of his list. He called the grocery store and asked someone to bring over cat supplies and lots of them.

He didn't have the number of the one stripper that he did know at Mason-Dixon's club, but it didn't take him long to get it from a ranch hand. Lucky made the call to find out if she'd spotted the other three felines, but the call went to voice mail. Lucky left her a message.

He found the girls at the kitchen table eating breakfast. At least that's what Mia was doing. Mackenzie was poking her fork at a pancake as if testing it for signs of life.

“Miss Della made shapes,” Mia announced, proudly showing him the remains of what appeared to be a heart-shaped pancake. Mackenzie's had probably been a heart, too, but it was hard to tell with all the punctures.

Della smiled, dished up a pancake for him, but Lucky frowned when he looked at it. It definitely wasn't a heart even if he squinted. “No shape for me?” he asked, hoping he didn't sound too disappointed.

“Round is a shape,” Della reminded him. She dropped a kiss on the top of his head and put a jar of peanut butter on the table. His favorite thing to eat with pancakes, so he thanked her.

“So, is the skank staying?” Mackenzie asked.

Lucky debated if he should correct her for saying
skank
, but it seemed a G-rated enough word, especially considering Mackenzie could have used something much, much worse.

“No. She'll leave after her therapy session.” Lucky hoped. The taxi was waiting for her out front, so that was a good sign.

“And what about the cats? Are they staying?” Three questions in under a minute. A record for Mackenzie.

“I'm still working on that.”

“I want 'em to stay,” Mia declared before cramming more of the pancake in her mouth.

Since this might be his best chance at having a real talk with them, Lucky dived right in. He dived right into the pancake, too. “Tell me about your aunt Alice. Is she a nice person?”

He might as well have asked what it was like to walk on the moon because both girls gave him a blank stare. “We gotta an aunt Alice?” Mia asked.

Lucky tried not to groan. He'd hoped that since the woman was their mother's half sister they had at least met her. It would have even been better if they'd known her and been excited about the possibility of living with her. But no dice.

“Did your mom ever talk about her sister?” He aimed that one at Mackenzie since he wasn't even sure Mia would remember their mom.

Mackenzie continued to put fork holes in the pancake. “Is that who you're trying to pawn us off on?”

Honestly, yes. But he wouldn't dare say that to them. Besides, they wouldn't be going with the aunt unless he was sure she would give them a good home. And just because they didn't know her, it didn't mean she wouldn't be a good guardian.

“A lot of people are trying to find your next of kin,” he explained. “Your aunt Alice is just one possibility.”

“What's a poss-a-bilty mean?” Mia asked at the same moment her sister demanded, “Who else?”

Lucky glanced at Della to see if she could help, but she gave him a “you're on your own” shrug.

“A possibility is someone who might get the chance to take care of you and love you.” That part was for Mia. Lucky turned to Mackenzie for the rest. “Right now, only your aunt Alice is on the list,” he admitted. “But we're working on others. My brother Logan is making some calls. So is the lawyer. I'll also be making some myself.”

He'd barely finished the explanation when he heard a sound. A moan of some kind. The sort a water buffalo might make when in heat. And it was coming from the office at the back of the house where Cassie was having her therapy session with Marla. When there was a second one, even louder than the first, Lucky hurried back to make sure someone wasn't having a seizure.

“Is everything okay?” he asked when he reached the door.

“Why don't you come in and see,” Marla said, giggling. And moaning.

The door opened, just a fraction, and Cassie poked her nose in through the narrow opening. “She can have orgasms by just thinking about it. My advice, don't come in here. Oh, and watch out for her hands.”

Lucky was so intrigued by the double hand warning that he almost wanted to go in there just to see what it was all about. Almost. But he'd moved out of the curiosity-killing-the-cat stage about the time he'd sprouted his first chest hair.

“It won't be much longer now,” Cassie assured him. “Once she's finished this orgasm, she'll be ready to go.” And she shut the door.

This sure seemed like a long way to come for an orgasm, especially one Marla could have just by thinking about it. But maybe she needed Cassie coaxing her or something.

Which, of course, totally interested him.

Lucky blamed that on the fake kiss. It had heated up some things inside him.

He started back to the kitchen so he could keep an eye on the girls, but he'd hardly made it a few steps when the office door opened again, and Marla came waltzing out. She looked a lot happier than she had when she'd gone in even though there hadn't been much time for mental foreplay.

She smiled when she saw him, continued waltzing. Except she grabbed his balls when she went past him.

Well, hell.

It not only shocked him, it also hurt. That's what the warning was all about. The grab wouldn't hinder his chances of fathering children should he ever plan on doing that, but he might walk funny for a while.

“I did warn you,” the cameraman said, and that's when Lucky noticed that the guy was keeping his distance. And walking funny.

Cassie followed the pair, but she stopped once they'd cleared the kitchen. Probably because she didn't want Marla around the girls. Lucky agreed with that.

“You want to talk about this?” he asked Cassie.

“No,” she said without hesitation. She checked her watch. “I guess I can get started with some calls about the cats.”

“Not just yet,” Lucky said. Since the girls were still at the breakfast table, this might be the best chance he got to talk to Cassie alone. He pulled her back into the hall and out of earshot of anyone in the kitchen.

“If this is about that kiss...” she started.

“It's not.” Best to leave that subject alone. He had a lot of experience with lust clouding his judgment, and that kiss had fallen into the lust category for him.

“Then if it's about Marla grabbing you—”

“That's not it, either.” Lucky took out the note. “It's about what's in this.”

“That's the paper you had in the hall earlier. Is it about the girls' aunt?” But she froze. No doubt because of the expression on his face. “It's about me.”

Cassie groaned and would have moved away from him if Lucky hadn't taken hold of her.

“Let me guess,” she snapped. “Logan went digging into my life.”

Since that about summed it up, Lucky nodded.

“He had no right,” Cassie insisted.

“I agree with you, but it's just something Logan does. He wanted to make sure none of this was a scam. And yeah, his digging into your life probably started to make sure you weren't part of that theoretical scam. But no scam.”

However, it was something much worse.

“Let me see the note,” she demanded.

He handed it to her, but Lucky figured she wasn't going to like some of it. Mainly because it wasn't just a note. It was a one-page report from a private investigator Logan kept on retainer.

Lucky watched as her eyes skirted over the first part. Her bio and work history. No surprises there, but her eyes stopped skirting on the section that had caused him to pause, too.

Involuntary commitment to Sweet Meadows Meditation and Relaxation Facility in Oregon.

There weren't many other details, only her commitment date, which was a week ago. But Lucky figured that “involuntary commitment” phrase said it all. There was also the name of the person who'd had her committed, but that was all that the PI had apparently been able to get.

It was enough.

“The only reason I showed you that,” he said, “was because I want to make sure you're okay.”

“Yes, I'm okay!” she snapped. But then almost immediately she sagged against the wall. Just that short outburst seemed to have exhausted her, and Cassie gave a weary sigh. While still clutching the paper, she covered her face with her hands. “Obviously, I'm not okay. You saw what happened to me.”

Lucky wasn't sure how to approach this, whether he should question her more about that or not. She certainly hadn't seemed eager to discuss the panic attack. However, while he was having a mental debate with himself, Cassie must have taken his silence as an opening to explain herself.

“The panic attacks started last month,” she said. That seemed to make her angry. Maybe at herself. Maybe at him. Maybe at Logan for uncovering this. “I missed some of the signs with a patient. I screwed up big-time.”

Lucky took her hands from her face so he could make eye contact. “You want to talk about it?”

She scowled, maybe because he sounded a little like a therapist. Not intentionally. He just wasn't sure where to go here. When women started crying, he usually found some excuse to get the heck out of there, but that was part of his old baggage. Cassie might need him to ditch that baggage for a while and listen to her.

Or not.

“I'll check on the girls,” she said, and she would have darted right out of there if he hadn't stepped in front of her.

“The girls are fine.” He hoped. But he wasn't so sure about Cassie. “Look, I can handle them and the cats. If you need to go back to that place in Oregon, then go.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I'm not crazy.”

Lucky held up his hands in defense. “I didn't say you were.” But this would have been a good time for him to say something else, something reassuring, instead of letting his gaze drift to the paper that she had wadded up.

Because he was right in her face, Lucky saw the exact moment that she got it. That he was concerned about those two words.

Involuntary commitment.

Cassie backed up, huffed. Then sighed again. “I had a bad attack and ended up in the ER. Someone convinced the staff that I needed help, and that's how I ended up at Sweet Meadows.”

Lucky got the feeling that was the toned-down version of what had happened.

“Someone?” he repeated. And he knew the name of that someone because it was on Logan's report. “Who is this Dr. Andrew Knight who had you sent to that place?”

More huffing and sighing. “I meant to mention all of this earlier, but it slipped my mind. He's my boyfriend. More or less.”

Well, that was a mouthful. This was the first he was hearing of a boyfriend, even one that she considered more or less.

Whatever the heck that meant.

“Andrew overreacted,” she added. “He does that sometimes, and we're having a cooling-off period because of it.”

Translation—she was pissed because he'd put her in that place. Lucky didn't blame her. He would have been pissed, too, and there would have been more than just a cooling-off period. He would have dumped the jerk.

And, no, that didn't have anything to do with the fake kiss Cassie and he had shared. It had more to do with the real moments they'd gone through in the past twenty-four hours.

“Andrew's a shrink?” Lucky asked.