“Nothing, really, just, you know.”
“No, I don’t know. Please tell me.”
She sighed, wondering if it would be less painful to throw herself off the balcony. “Well, I just was told that you were seeing her and that she has talked about, um, being in your backseat.”
He looked bewildered. “Amber told you this?”
“No. No. I just, um, I heard some stuff.”
“The kind of stuff that made you assume we were dating?”
She nodded. “I apologize. It’s none of my business. I just thought … ” What the hell, she didn’t know what she thought. She was an idiot for opening up a can of worms when things had been going so nicely.
Clay smiled. “Amber’s not my girlfriend. If you want to know about my backseat you’ll have to talk to her. I’m not saying anything except that I’m not dating her and I never have. I’m not dating anyone, unless you agree to grab something to eat with me later.”
It was her turn to register shock on her face.
“Going out later would be a date?” She was fighting fear again, but this time, it was the fear that she’d allow this man to get close to her, as close as he wanted.
He shuffled his feet. “No, not necessarily. It could be two people who worked hard together and deserve a beer and a burger. Or, it could be a date. We won’t know until we try.”
“Wh — why do you want to date me?”
He bent, picked up the overloaded bucket, mop, and ladder, and walked toward the door. “Damned if know, Cassidy. You make me crazy when I’m with you and I can’t stop thinking about you when I’m not. I’ll see you in about two hours.”
• • •
The door slammed behind him and Clay hauled the cleaning paraphernalia to the maintenance closet at the end of the hall. Christ, he felt like a fourteen-year-old asking a girl out for the first time. His hormones were betraying him again. He’d listened to Cassidy’s comments with a tiny voice in his head whispering, “Grab her and kiss her. That’ll show her Amber’s not your girlfriend.” On second thought, the voice was located well below his head and making its presence known. He hoped Cassidy hadn’t spotted his bulging frame of mind.
Amber? Those workers at the store thought he and Amber were dating? It had to be the old biddy. That was his fault, removing his phone from his pocket and faking a call to her in front of Rosie. He couldn’t imagine Amber telling them about her arrest and being in the backseat of the police car. Knowing her, if she’d talked at all, she’d colored the event to suit her reputation.
Oh well. It was probably good for Amber’s esteem and it would keep their focus off of Cassidy.
He’d thought all day about asking Cassidy out. Seeing her bent over cleaning the oven, watching her labor over spots on the tile floor, and clutching her thighs to balance her on the ladder had fueled a fire he thought had died with his divorce. That moment on the ladder with her so close had made him heady.
A door closed and he turned to see her walking toward the exit. What was she thinking? Beat feet or give the guy a chance? Maggie had laid it on the line for Cassidy and she’d elected to accept their job arrangement. That was some indication she wouldn’t take off. He wished he was more certain. Maybe after a beer tonight she’d open up a little.
• • •
It was ten minutes beyond the two hour mark when Clay knocked on Cassidy’s door. She opened it after checking the peep hole and smiled.
“I still don’t have your number or I’d have called.” He handed his cell to her. “Here. Key it in please.”
He watched while her fingers lightly bounced on the screen. She’d changed into a clean pair of jeans and a long-sleeved black and gold hockey shirt. Her face was scrubbed clean with barely any makeup, maybe some stuff on her eyes. She wasn’t wearing her glasses.
She returned the phone and stood waiting.
“Ready to go?”
She nodded.
He gestured toward the door, but as she approached he asked, “Do you need your glasses?”
Her face registered surprise and she turned, ran to the bathroom, and returned wearing the large, red frames.
“Sorry,” she said, pushing them up her nose.
They walked silently to his truck, parked right outside the front door. Once inside, he turned the key and eased away from the curb.
“Are you a hockey fan?”
“I love hockey more than football, but I’m a fan of both.”
“I like that. Not a lot of women are sports fans.”
She grinned. “Maybe the ones you know aren’t. But anyone I know is.”
They were off to a nice start. Too soon to start asking questions that would erect those cautionary walls around her, so he made small talk about sports teams, the weather, and the songs on the radio. They arrived at a brick building with an orange roof and a matching neon sign declaring it as “Curly’s.”
He offered assistance after opening her door and for once, she took it. Her slender hand slid into his, her fingers wrapping between his like parts of a whole. Mini lightning bolts shot up his arm and jolted his heart. She stepped down from the passenger seat and he held her hand tight as they walked toward the screen door, briefly dismayed that the distance was so short. Country music drifted out from the open inner door.
“This place isn’t much inside, but the burgers are the best. You can order whatever you like, though. If you want to eat healthy, they serve good salads.”
She eyed him but remained silent. He was babbling like a child. There was no reason to be so nervous. She was just a woman and this was simply burgers and beers. But his palms were sweaty.
They selected a booth in the back and Cassidy surprised him by ordering a micro brew, a burger loaded, and onion rings. She fussed with the table service, refolded her napkin, and sipped her water while her eyes scrutinized the dining area.
“You’re on the watch again.”
She straightened her shoulders and forced a smile. “Just checking out the ambiance.”
Clay laughed. “Good luck with that.”
Their beers arrived and Clay raised his glass. Cassidy tipped hers to touch his.
“Thanks for helping me this afternoon. You did good work.”
“You’re welcome. But it’s my job, remember?”
He sipped a second time then placed his mug on the square cocktail napkin.
“So, why did you come with me tonight?”
She captured his gaze. “Why’d you ask?”
“You’re very good at answering a question with a question. It’s a skilled defense mechanism.”
“Am I?”
He grinned. “Touché.”
He waited for her to respond, his question left hanging in the air. She lifted her glass, sipped, then whispered, “Maybe I was hungry.”
The electric charge started in the arch of his foot, bolted up his legs, surged through his spine, and settled in his chest, causing his heart to race. Did she mean the double entendre? His body temperature spiked. “For burgers?”
Cassidy hadn’t released his gaze. “Wasn’t that the offer?”
The waitress arrived with a full tray of food and the spell was broken. His heart pounded so fiercely, he glanced down to assure himself it wasn’t apparent beneath his shirt. He watched Cassidy squirt ketchup onto her plate and squeeze mustard on the burger. She avoided looking at him, seemingly absorbed in her food.
Halfway through their meal, he was mesmerized. She understood sports, she recognized music, she quoted poetry, and she licked her fingers in a disturbingly suggestive way. He couldn’t stand up if his life depended on it, not without it looking like his jeans were a size too small.
He ordered another round of drinks, stretching his legs out beneath the table and propping his arm on the back of the booth. “There are about a hundred questions I’d like to ask you.”
She toyed with the wet, tattered cocktail napkin, but he detected a slight smile. “I’m not answering serious questions tonight. Only frivolous ones.”
“Oh, I see. Well, then, what’s your favorite color?”
She challenged his gaze. “Red. It’s a sign of love and passion.”
“And do you have those or are you looking for those?”
She blinked and shrugged. “Still looking. Get back to frivolous.”
“Um, what’s your favorite holiday?”
“My birthday.”
That made him laugh. “I’m not sure the calendar makers are aware of that date, but I’ll check. Any brothers or sisters? You must have brothers to know so much about sports.”
She shook her head, indulging in a sip of fresh beer. “One brother but we don’t get along. More like lots of athletic friends. And a crush on my best friend’s brother ever since I was six, so I learned the games to try to impress him.”
“Did it work?”
She giggled. “No, he turned out to be gay. So then I had two best friends.”
“Where are they now?”
Just like that, the mood changed. Her eyes clouded over and she looked away. “You’re interrogating me again. You said you wouldn’t.”
He sat up straight. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. You can’t blame me for wanting to learn about you, Cassidy. It’s what two people do when they are out together and getting to know each other. I’m fascinated by you. I … ” His words choked to a stop. In the rear of the room, where the staff restocked the napkins, straws, and silverware, he spotted Lauren standing there glaring at him, ice javelins shooting from her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” Cassidy looked frightened, her eyes wide, an onion ring suspended in mid-air. “Clay? What’s the matter?”
“Don’t turn around, please.”
The onion ring fell to the plate. “What? Please. Is it a man?”
Clay tore his eyes from Lauren to look at her. “What? No, it’s not a man. What would make you ask that? It’s my ex.”
• • •
Oh thank God. For a minute, she feared Tony DelMorrie had found her. She’d let her guard down these last few days, presuming safety in Clay’s company. Clay’s face paled when he focused on something behind her and she immediately assumed it was him. Anyone who knew about the mob would recognize Tony DelMorrie. Certainly a cop would.
The mood at the table shifted. He was obviously uncomfortable with her there. “Do you want me to walk to the ladies room so you can speak to her?”
That brought Clay’s attention back to her. “No. The last thing I want to do is speak to her.”
“You seem rattled.”
“I’m sorry. I thought she had left town. I’m surprised to see her, that’s all. I think she’s gone. Let’s not let her ruin our evening.”
He bit into the remaining half of his burger.
“How long did you go with her?”
Clay blinked and shook his head, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I didn’t go with her. I married her.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you meant ex-wife. I didn’t think you were married.”
Clay pointed his index finger at her. “I’m not.”
She chewed another onion ring before curiosity got the best of her. “So what happened?”
Clay grinned. “Well, Miss Hoake, the shoe is on the other foot now and you’re the one with inquiries. I’ll be glad to answer that if you answer a question for me. For every question you ask, I’ll ask one.”
Cassidy gulped. “Never mind. I’ll ask Amber.”
• • •
Back in the truck, they drove silently to Fortieth Street. He’d been overly talkative on the ride to the restaurant and now, he’d retreated into a shell. Reluctantly, she admitted she had enjoyed their banter, and disappointment now that he’d stopped trying to entertain her made her want to pout.
The street looked more dismal than she remembered. Remnants of yellow police tape hanging from the front door of her building and on a nearby shrub flapped in the breeze. Three men stood a few feet from the entrance smoking, their hoods concealing their identities. She recognized the gun Clay retrieved from under the front seat as the same one he reached for on their furniture excursion.
After tucking it in his back he exited the truck, walked toward the rear of the truck and removed an empty box from the bed, then came to her door. “Stay close,” he whispered, reaching for her hand.
They moved quickly up the sidewalk and in the unsecured front door. Cassidy cringed when she entered the apartment. Having come from the deluxe quarters at Chalet II, this place looked like a landfill.
“There are only a few things in the kitchen, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing them,” she whispered. She felt like a trespasser. “I’ll grab my laundry bag from the bedroom.”
“Do you want these throw rugs?”
She crinkled her nose and shook her head.
The hair on her arms rose when she switched on the overhead bedroom light. Someone had overturned the mattress, opened the closet doors, turned over the lone lamp in the room, and dumped her laundry bag of dirty clothes on the floor. There was nothing to find, but someone had searched anyway.
She stood paralyzed, her mind racing. The police? The men milling around outside? It didn’t feel like that.
It was him. He had found her. This wasn’t a search for valuables. One look at the room and it was apparent there was nothing to steal. This was a search for clues to her whereabouts. For all she knew, he was watching her now. Her eyes darted to the window, but it was too dark to discern anything outside. She began to shake uncontrollably. Hearing Clay’s footsteps coming toward the room she turned, tears stinging her eyes.
“You really should learn … hey. Are you okay?” He placed the box on the floor and walked toward her, taking her in his arms. “What the hell, Cassidy? You’re trembling.”
She melted into his embrace, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist, absorbing his warmth and his strength. Her glasses pressed into the bridge of her nose.
He tightened his hug, running one hand the length of her back. “Cass, it’s okay. I’m here.”
She spoke, her words muffled in his shirt. “I have to go. I can’t stay any longer.” Beneath her cheek she felt his heart leap.
“That’s why we’re getting you out of here. This is a bad neighborhood.”
He didn’t know. He didn’t understand. He suspected the local thugs.
“No,” she whispered. “I have to leave.”
He stiffened. Then he stepped back and cupped her chin in his hand, raising her face to meet his gaze. “Please don’t,” he whispered. He bent his head and she watched his mouth open slightly, then capture hers.