Double Down (27 page)

“No problem. Really. It’s fun to see it through your eyes.”

“I don’t think you want to be in my head right now.”

“No?”

After a shake of his head, his hair highlighted with streaks of gold, he sighed. “I’d have expected you to lead me somewhere for the purposes of jumping my bones. This is far classier.”

“Educational too.”

“Exactly. So you saved me from myself.”

“That sounds incredibly tame of me.”

He grunted. Face forward, he seemed to study where a band of bright sunshine streaked across layers of redwall limestone. Emily’s husband could name each geologic nuance and its composition, but Cass was content with having retained much less. It was breathtaking, no matter the technical terms.

“I’m going to tell my parents this evening,” she said. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Ryan peered down at her. “Are you sure?”

“I am. This…” Already she felt lighter for having said it aloud. That lightness gave her power. “I can’t keep splitting myself into pieces. I know you don’t like it when I give you credit for the last few months, but I wish you’d let me. Just a bit. If anything, you’ve helped me sort through what’s important.”

“Your family is important to you.”

“Sure, but I don’t need to live my parents’ dreams. I have some of my own.” She grinned, then let loose of his warm hold. “Here, take a picture of me. To commemorate this.”

Turning carefully, she stood on the edge of the landing. She fluffed her ponytail and threw her shoulders back, ready for her closeup.

Ryan’s face, however, had lost most of its color. “Get back from there, would ya?”

“What?”

He held out his hand, as if afraid a sudden movement would send her tumbling into the rocky abyss. “Come on.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve done this for years. I’ll hold still.”

“Cass, I mean it.”

“Just take the picture, damn it.”

She almost apologized because she never cursed—not when they weren’t playing. Maybe it got through to him. Ryan’s mouth compressed. His frown revealed he was as upset with her as he’d ever been. He managed to snap the picture. Cass didn’t dare ask to see the viewscreen.

“Don’t
ever
do that again.” His tight voice said this wasn’t a request.

She tipped her head, trying to see into his brain. Lordy, he had a lot going on in there today. That didn’t do a thing to dim her annoyance.

“I’ve been coming down here since I was in grade school. I don’t take chances. This morning Mom asked me, a grown woman, if you and I use protection. Dad still asks if I’ve gotten my oil changed recently. They’re laid-back about a lot of things, but my safety is a hypersensitive area. No way they would’ve let me lead a tour,
ever
, if they thought I couldn’t handle myself. You could extend at least that much trust.”

He appeared only somewhat chastened, which only pissed her off more. She got the feeling that if she protested, he’d haul her over his shoulder like he had at his apartment. Full-on caveman.

Feeling prickly, she turned away from the platform and headed back through the cliff-wall crevice. The shale still slipped like oily plastic beneath her boots. The flame of annoyance in her was ablaze now. Ryan followed closely. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he reached out to take her elbow. Southern gentleman aside, she didn’t feel like being patronized.

They reached a solid spread of Muav limestone, its lackluster gray so uninspired when compared to stripes of orange and red. Cass took a healthy swipe from her canteen. The worry she’d been repressing for weeks fizzed in her chest.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re a fighter pilot!”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

She smacked the lid back on the canteen and gave it a sharp twist. “So I’m supposed to just
accept
that you’re in danger every day? Every day?”

“That’s my job. You knew that. Cass, where is this coming from?”

“It’s coming from the fact we’re serious about each other now. Aren’t we?”

His slight hesitation was too long. Too long to let her breathe. “Yes, we’re getting serious.”

She swallowed. Always so many threads to untangle with him. So she focused on one for now. “That means trust. I have to trust that you’re good. The best. That you’ll take every precaution to keep safe.”

“Yes.”

“Then give me some credit, okay?” Damn. She didn’t like that her voice cracked. Her throat closed around the idea of Ryan wounded in the line of duty. Any nightmare scenario led to tears, so she focused on being angry. “This is my last tour. I’m going to live in a gallery or a museum for the rest of my life. Paper cuts and paint fumes will be my on-the-job hazards. But you… God, Ryan, just look at what you’re asking me to sign on for.”

He rubbed a hand over his neck. The tight crimp of his lips hadn’t eased. He watched her, as if trying to make a decision. Cass didn’t know what she wanted or hoped. She only knew that their relationship had taken a turn.

To survive it, she craved more than a few reassurances.

She enjoyed the idea of giving herself to this man, handing her heart into his care. She spent a good many hours each day imagining just that. She needed to know he’d do his best to keep it safe.

Ryan shrugged free of his hesitation and crossed to stand before her. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’ve been admiring all afternoon how well you handle yourself down here. Back there just took me by surprise.”

She nodded stiffly.
More. Give me more.

Hands loosely encircling her upper arms, he met her gaze squarely. She imagined he’d wear that same solemn expression when reciting his wedding vows. Joy that bordered on terror zipped down to her toes. She might be that far along, but she could never read him well enough to know if she lived alone in hope.

“I dangerous, and there’s the chance I’ll be redeployed one day. But what I do is important.” With a tenderness that left her breathless, he kissed her forehead. “I’ve been trusted with a responsibility that I never take lightly.”
am
good. The best. I take every precaution.” Her words, echoed in his voice, began to ease her tension. “Cassandra, I’m not going to lie. What I do is

His double meaning was unmistakable. Or else Cass didn’t want to peek into dark corners anymore. She circled her arms around his trim waist. He held on to her too, making her feel safe—like he always did. Strong. Whole. Vital. Maybe that’s how she’d be able to stand it, by clinging to that feeling, and by believing that he wouldn’t want to give it up any more than she did.

She tipped her face to find his throat, which was roughened by a slight growth of stubble. Per Cass’s request one bold evening, he no longer shaved on the weekends. The rough rub of those sharp hairs along her skin was too good to do without. Mouth open, she licked toward his ear.

“How much time left?” he asked against her cheek. He swooped in for a kiss that turned her blood to lava. Holy smokes, the man was a master.

Cass checked her watch. “You have seventeen minutes.”

“Lemme make it worth your while.”

“You got it, Major.”

Cass sat on the edge of cushion. Her mom and dad occupied the giant sectional couch in the living room. The flatscreen still flickered, but
Saturday Night Live
was muted. Ryan had dropped her off after the tour. He’d offered to stay and lend his support. Although she wanted so badly to rely on him as her safety blanket, Cass had given him a kiss good night.

Her parents. Her stand to make. Knowing she had his backing would have to be enough.

So now she waited—waited for their reply.

Her mother exchanged a meaningful look with Dad. “You mean this, don’t you, honey?”

“I do.” She left it at that, afraid that too many words would see her hedging and making excuses.

Her father leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. Then he grinned. “I’d have been pissed off if you quit us before the restaurant.”

“Keith, your language!”

“I mean it, honey. If she’d have chosen slinging steaks over us, I’d have protested.” His humor faded as he looked at Cass. “I’m happy you spoke up. It’s not your job to worry about us.”

“Robert has good connections with the geology department at UNLV,” her mother added. “We’ll hire a student who needs part-time work.”

“Worst case,” Dad said with a laugh, “I play a mean game of poker. You watch. I’ll secure our retirement on one good hand.”

Mom whacked him playfully on the arm. “You will not. Now, about this guy Ryan. What’s going on with you two?”

“Mom.” Cass rolled her eyes, but she was too elated to put up much of a fight.

“How was it having him on the tour? Did he have a nice time?”

As if she was going there.
Yeah, Mom, he yanked down my khaki shorts and fucked me against a cliff wall.
She hadn’t found the nerve to look at her back yet. Probably a mess of scrapes. The deliciously sore muscles of her inner thighs were a much nicer reminder of those frantic, passionate minutes.

At least some of her anxiety had passed regarding his profession. If she wanted to be with Ryan—and God, did she ever—then it was a part of him that she would learn to accept. She almost smiled. What would he think if he realized she had more of a problem with his life as a fighter pilot than with their roleplaying?

Schooling her features, Cass tried to keep her voice even. “We’re good, okay? Let’s leave it at that for now.”

Although she seemed ready to protest, her mother nodded once. “Decaf?”

“Beer?” her dad replied.

He grabbed the remote to catch the next SNL sketch. And that…was that. Cass leaned back against the couch cushions, smiling, still stunned. She was free—of the restaurant, of her family’s business. She was even free from most of the unease she’d harbored about Ryan’s job. Now she could sink or swim on her own, with the career she wanted as her incentive. The
life
she wanted.

More and more, that life included a certain gentleman fighter pilot.

Chapter Thirty-One

As Ryan stood before his bathroom mirror one last time, he couldn’t escape his worry. He looked like a douche, wearing a sweater over a button-down shirt and a tie. With a shake of his head, he left the bathroom. Disgust dogged his heels.

The nauseating lengths a guy would go to in order to get his rocks off.

That wasn’t really right either. He ran a hand over his head. It wasn’t like he’d been dragged unwillingly into their newest game. He just hadn’t expected so much anxiety chomping at him while he awaited her arrival. The turn-on, yeah, maybe. Maybe he could finally admit that his body was primed and ready. His mind hadn’t yet caught up with the plan.

Since their epic beginnings, his relationship with Cassandra had been normal. Sane. Regular. Just like he’d always wanted.

Now he was pacing up and down the length of his apartment, wearing a bloody costume as well. The French maid thing didn’t count. After all, he’d been wearing his dress uniform. That wasn’t so much a costume as a regular change of clothes.

The whole sweater-over-a-button-down thing…

That was admitting to a whole new level of involvement. He wasn’t just asking her to dress up because the sight of her turned him on. He wanted the whole performance, including his own participation.

Knowing that the schoolgirl outfit arrived at her apartment on Tuesday had been almost more than he could handle. He’d skipped out of seeing her through the week because he wouldn’t have been able to keep from asking for it. Begging her to wear it. Early.

When the doorbell rang, he instantly knew why he’d put himself through this wringer. Cassandra was on the other side, with her awesome body wrapped in another tiny fantasy costume. Fuck, yeah. Every moment of freaking himself out would be worth it.

There was no turning back now. Backing out would stir up as many questions as going through with it. He could only hope he was man enough to salvage their relationship after turning her over his knee.

Christ. Just when he didn’t think he could get any harder.

Except it wasn’t Cassandra waiting when he tossed open the door. Jon and Leah tumbled past him like a couple of puppies.

“Hey there, Fang,” Leah called. She headed immediately for his kitchen and shoved her head in the refrigerator. She wore a low-slung pair of hip-hugger jeans that dipped when she bent. Her tiny shirt ended two inches above her waistband. Ryan looked away.

“Yo, man.” Jon flopped down on the couch lengthwise, his feet kicked up on the arm. The jeans he wore with a white-on-white striped dress shirt was pretty casual as far as he went.

Ryan leaned against the archway between kitchen and the great room. He crossed his arms over his chest, struggling to calm his erection and keep his voice below a shout. “By all means, make yourself at home, Dimples,” he said dryly.

Jon grinned. He hated having his dimples pointed out, which meant that Ryan was in exactly the mood to do it. “We always do.”

Leah reemerged with two beers in hand. “Next time I come over, I’m sticking a couple bottles of wine in your fridge. Cass would appreciate it.”

“Cassandra doesn’t drink much.”

She handed one of the beers over to Jon, then flopped into Ryan’s easy chair. “Fine, then I’d appreciate it. I don’t like beer that much.”

“Princess, no one’s forcing you to drink mine.”

Jon took a swig straight from the bottle. It looked odd since he usually preferred liquors with fancy names or bottles of wine that were older than all of them put together. “You got plans tonight, Fang?”

Ryan ran a finger under the ring of his collar. He had plans all right, but they involved Cassandra on her knees. Begging for his cock. Not the thing he discussed with his friends.

“Not really.”

Leah bounced on her toes. “Cool. Then you can come out with us.”

“Yeah, I heard about this new jazz club opening,” Jon said, pushing to a sitting position. “It’s got big money behind it. Going to be great.”

Most nights, watching Jon and Leah annoy the tourists wasn’t a bad way to spend his time. But not when he had prior commitments. An
epic
commitment, around which he’d based his whole week. He glanced at his watch. Cassandra would show up at any second. “I don’t think so. I’m feeling kind of tired. Was just going to turn in.”