He pressed his lips to hers, dipping his tongue into her mouth hesitantly at first. When she responded, enclosing him in a hug, leaning her hips into his, and opening her mouth for him, he turned to putty in her hands. Jesus.
“Were you asleep?” he whispered against her lips.
“Not really.”
“Why are you dressed?”
She pulled back and looked at him. “Why don’t you take care of that, officer?”
Heated blood coursed through him. Moving his hands to her sides he lifted her T-shirt over her head and marveled at the soft feel of her skin. Pulling her close he unhooked her bra and moved his right hand beneath the elastic to cup her breast, his words snagging in his throat.
“I could hardly concentrate tonight. I wanted to be here.”
He slid his left hand down her bare back and wedged his hand between her skin and her waistband, clutching her bottom. She moaned, heightening his already flaming passion.
“I need a shower,” he whispered. “Will you help me wash my back?” Without waiting for an answer, he took her hand and guided her to the bathroom. While he leaned in to turn on and adjust the water, Cassidy removed two bath towels from the linen closet. He began unbuttoning his shirt, but she pushed his hands aside and while she worked the buttons he opened her jeans and sank his hand down the front of her pants to discover her desire matched his.
Minutes later, they were kissing under the beating water, their hands traveling every inch of each other’s soapy bodies, touching, tasting, exploring. He turned off the water, handed Cassidy a towel, and dried himself, embarrassed by his obvious intentions. Once in bed, he devoured her until they both were at the point of exhaustion.
Rolling off of her, he disposed of the condom and pulled her into his arms. He was dead tired. Maybe he was dead.
That had to be it. He had died and gone to heaven.
• • •
Cassidy blinked awake, momentarily stunned by the sound of breathing behind her. Thirty seconds elapsed before her fluttering heart slowed to match the tempo of the soft snores on the pillow beneath her head and a slow smile crept across her face. Clay. Her eyes adjusted to the dark and focused on the shining alarm clock digits. Less than thirty minutes until she had to crawl out of the cocoon his arms safely encompassed her in. His body heat seeped beneath her skin like healing balm for achy muscles, warming its way to her soul. How she wished it could be like this always.
The events of the last hours played to her mind’s eye as if she watched a favorite romance movie. Clay’s tender caresses, his fervent kisses, his whispered endearments. In his arms she was beautiful, soft as kitten fur and as bewitching as a temptress. Locked in a mutual embrace they whispered their dreams in between making love, two strangers coming together under the blankets with a physical as well as emotional need for one another. She hoped to be the mother of two kids someday, he wanted three. She fantasized about a bungalow with a small front yard and a white picket fence; he favored an old farmhouse in the middle of five wooded acres. He wasn’t sure about happily-ever-after but regarded Maggie and Dan as examples of what could happen. She remained non-committal, the nightmare that was her life shadowing her future.
She would likely pay for the lack of sleep later, but right now, she was invigorated by the hours of intimacy. The sheet lay spread over his right thigh, barely concealing him, and she took advantage of his mostly naked state to admire him in the light peeking through the window blind. Even in sleep he was well endowed, magnificent to look at. He exuded power, like a sleeping lion one knew better than to awaken. And just hours ago, she’d had all of him beneath her fingertips, which somehow empowered her.
Today felt like a new day.
Easing out of his embrace, she marveled at the deep sleep Clay enjoyed. She hummed in the shower and tiptoed around the bedroom, quietly dressing so as not to disturb him. He slept like a rock in spite of her opening and closing drawers and searching unsuccessfully under the bed and through the dirty clothes hamper for her name tag for The Packing Place. Where the hell was it?
One gentle kiss on his cheek and she was out the door, closing it softly behind her. The hike to the bus stop two streets away was easy. Hell, she could run a marathon this morning. The thirty-minute ride gave her time for introspection.
As long as she kept hiding, Tony DelMorrie controlled her life, just as if he held his gun to her head. It was that simple. Her fear of him sucked the joy out of everyday things like going to work, shopping, or a simple burger and onion rings. Tony DelMorrie was a dark cloud hovering over her.
Clay was the light. He infused her with strength, purpose, and, dare she entertain the thought? Love. Sleeping with him had been more than a physical act, it had been an escape from the darkness. She wanted to remain in his light, but to do that, she’d have to risk her life and stand up to Tony DelMorrie. Again.
Jill Diamond had tried standing up to him and she was dead. It was funny how the women seemed to be on the same schedule most mornings, stopping in the convenience station grab-n-go market on the way to their respective jobs. Cassidy hadn’t even known where Jill worked, until she read it in the newspaper after her murder, didn’t know her last name. But their faces became familiar to each other and the casual greetings turned into brief comments and then mini conversations if there was a cash register line, Jill standing with her cigarettes and a diet soda and Cassidy balancing hot coffee and an energy bar. They had chatted about manicures and jewelry, laughed at the covers of the scandal magazines, delighted in girl topics. Jill Diamond always had a smile for Cassidy.
She smiled at Cassidy the day she died. She and Tony DelMorrie had argued, the police discovered, and Jill threw a shoe at DelMorrie, smashing it into his foul mouth. The impact chipped his tooth and his anger erupted. He’d followed her as she drove into the fuel station on the way to her receptionist’s job. And when she’d relinquished the protection of her car to head inside, he’d strolled up as casually as if he were walking a dog and gunned her down at the front door.
Cassidy watched the nightmare unfold as if in slow motion, spotting the gun in his hand as soon as he moved within eyesight. She’d opened her mouth to scream, but her vocal chords were paralyzed with fear. She turned to look at the clerk, with his back to the window, reaching for something from the shelves behind, and the other customers in line, all of them caught up in their own lives, texting, talking on their phones or otherwise distracted. And so she watched in stunned silence as Jill spotted her through the glass, waved and smiled while Tony DelMorrie shot the life out of her. If the others saw anything, they denied it. Only she stepped forward, recounting the horrific details and accusing DelMorrie of murder. Without Cassidy’s testimony, there would be no justice for Jill Diamond.
And Cassidy would remain in the dark. She had to face him from the witness stand and end this life of disguise if she intended to start a new life, one that included Clay. The bus rolled to a stop and the folding doors opened, allowing a cool, fresh wave of air inside the vehicle. The time had come to confront the devil.
• • •
She arrived at The Packing Place at ten minutes to eight with her thoughts weighing heavy on her heart. The store lights were on and Amber’s car was parked in the rear beside Keaseling’s van. Inwardly, she groaned. She didn’t relish a groping match with him first thing this morning.
Stashing her purse in the cabinet and hanging her hoodie on the back of the bathroom door, she looked around the store for her name tag, but didn’t find it anywhere. Muffled sounds came through the closed office door, but she opted to stay at the front of the store and not interrupt. Maybe Keaseling wouldn’t notice the name tag wasn’t pinned to her shirt. That was one of his store rules along with no cell phones during working hours and the ten-second greeting rule when a customer entered.
At precisely eight o’clock, she unlocked the front door and waited for the day’s first customer. Within ten minutes Amber rounded the corner, her cheeks flushed.
“Hey, Chickie. Good morning. You look whipped. Have a bad weekend?” Amber asked.
“Um, not really. I just am short of sleep. I wasn’t sure anyone was here. What was going on in there?”
Amber shrugged. “Don’t worry about him. He’s pissed because Leslie didn’t lock the safe when we closed Saturday afternoon.”
“So why is he taking it out on you?”
“Because he thinks I did it. I wasn’t going to say differently and throw her under the bus.”
“Was he yelling at you?”
Amber laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, I guess you could say he was yelling.”
Cassidy screwed up her face to look at her. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t fret, Chet. It’s handled.”
Keaseling appeared behind her, tucking in his shirt. He nodded to Cassidy, then leaned against the far counter with his arms folded across his chest. “Amber,” he barked, “the hair?”
She flashed him a wide smile, reached for a rubber band and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She turned to Cassidy and wrinkled her nose, moving to stand beside her at the counter.
Only the low tones of the radio providing background music cut the cumbersome silence.
“How was your weekend?” Cassidy finally asked.
“Believe it or not, I stayed home. No wild parties for me.”
Customers trickled in throughout the morning keeping the girls moderately busy. Keaseling remained leaning against the counter, manifesting a dazzling smile when a patron walked in but scowling when the store was empty.
“Name tag, Miss Hoake?”
“Um, I’m sorry, sir. I must have left it pinned to my other shirt.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a rules violation, you know. I could send you home to get it and dock you for the hours you miss,” he growled. “Fortunately for you, it’s busy enough today that we need the two of you here. Make sure you wear it tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
Finally, at noon, he said goodbye and the women released a collective sigh.
“Damn,” Amber said, yanking her hair free, “I thought he’d never leave.”
Cassidy rushed into the office to search the floor, the desk, and any little cranny in which her name tag might be. Nothing.
“It’s probably at home,” Amber suggested.
“No. I looked everywhere this morning.” The metal tag attached with two clutch pins, preventing it from simply falling off or coming unhooked.
“What if I can’t find it?”
Amber shrugged. “We’ll think of something.”
“I didn’t like his mood today. He seemed really mad. Why do you subject yourself to his anger? You should have told him the truth instead of covering for Leslie. He probably keeps a record of mistakes.”
“I can handle him better. Besides, I shoulda checked. I’m the one with more experience. But I appreciate you wanting to fight the fight for me, Cass. That’s nice. You seem full of fire this morning.”
Cassidy swallowed. How long did the glow of afterglow last?
Amber winked and jumped up on the packing table. “So now that we’re alone, you’ve got some talking to do, missy. What’s up with you and C.C.?”
Her stomach somersaulted. “I want to ask you about him.”
“Geez. You two are so interested in each other, I wish you’d get together already.”
“What makes you say that?”
She waved her hand. “He asks me about you. You call me to get messages to him. Why don’t you just cut out the middleman, me,” she said, pointing her fingers at her chest, “and have at it?”
Heat crept from the pit of Cassidy’s gut to ignite her cheeks and she looked away. But not before Amber noticed.
“Hmmm, maybe you already have. C’mon Cass, ‘fess up.”
Wringing her hands together she eyed Amber. “Did you and him have a thing together?”
Amber’s eyebrows shot up. “Me and C.C.? What would he want with someone like me?”
It was her turn to look surprised. “What’s wrong with someone like you? You’re smart and witty and beautiful under the five shades of hair color and two pounds of eye makeup.”
Amber threw her head back and laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But I’m not in C.C.’s league. I love flirting with him and he’s done me some favors, kinda saved my life if you want to know the truth, but we’ve never had a thing.” She raised her fingers to put quotation marks around the word. “What makes you ask?”
Cassidy studied the scuffs on her sneakers. “Just something Rosie said about you and him, you know, um, together, in a backseat.”
Amber frowned. “You want to know if I ever had sex with C.C.?”
Cassidy picked at her thumbnail, sorry now that she’d broached the subject. Amber raised her eyebrow, eliciting a tinkle from the tiny star. “You can’t even look at me and ask your question. What’s going on? Sing, Bing.”
Cassidy wet her lips and raised her gaze. “I saw him over the weekend. But if you hope to be his girlfriend, I won’t see him again.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, knowing in her heart she would find it difficult not to crawl into Clay’s arms again. Her loyalty to Amber would have a hell of a fight against her desire for Clay, but she wouldn’t betray her only friend.
Amber cocked her head and leveled that scrutinizing stare at her, the one that sliced right through her. “You’re like that cube, Cass, the one with all the colors and you have to twist and turn it just the right way to get it to match.” Her hands mimicked the action.
“I can’t figure you out. If I had slept with C.C., I wouldn’t tell you because he is a decent man and I wouldn’t do anything to ruin his reputation. The only time I’ve been in his backseat is when he arrested me.”
For a split second, Cassidy’s breathing suspended.
Amber’s head bobbed. “Yeah, I thought that would shock you. It’s not common knowledge around here so if you squeal, I’ll get fired. I don’t think I could do anything to convince the old man to keep me if he knew I was on probation. So please keep your trap shut. I like to think me and C.C. are friends — if I needed help and called him, he’d come. So that’s something. He’s a good cop and, I think, a good man, too.”