Double Down (32 page)

Cass didn’t need to ask who “he” was. The heat along the back of her neck was surely Ryan’s steady gaze.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you heard him out?”

Shaking her head, Cass tried to calm her faltering breath.

Across three long, agonizing weeks, she’d been sure of her course. No matter how many times she revisited their fight, she couldn’t find reason to think her expectations were too high. Honesty. Trust. How could they even think of a future if he couldn’t give her those two basic necessities?

So she’d managed to keep her mind occupied. Mostly. The bigger achievement was keeping her hand off the phone. For once, calling him would’ve been the coward’s way out. It was up to him now. Ryan had broken something wonderful. They both deserved better.

“Maybe that’s where you should start.” With one last squeeze, her mom let go. “Then make up your mind.”

Cass stood in the middle of the gallery, the best success of her life. She hadn’t been this proud of herself since spending her first night alone in Paris. Transatlantic flight at the age of nineteen was nothing compared to seeing this goal realized.

The hollow in her chest would not fill up. It was all she could manage to keep her eyes from wandering, searching the gallery for a handsome fighter pilot who looked as forlorn as she felt.

“Hey, beautiful,” said Gilly. She was dressed to the nines in a gorgeous gold linen suit. Only the length of the skirt, which was
really
revealing, suggested she wasn’t a businesswoman. “I see you checking out my legs.”

“Everyone in this place is checking out your legs.”

“Nah, you have them too distracted with all these lovely nekkid ladies.” She gave Cass a quick hug. “This is just all so glamorous I could spit.”

“Which wouldn’t be glamorous at all, so please don’t. Besides, there are some incredibly rich patrons here tonight. You wouldn’t want to miss your shot at a very special love connection.”

“If you could be so good as to point one out?” Her expression shifted, etched with sympathy. “So?”

“So?”

“Is he here?”

“Yes. Lurking around. I said I couldn’t talk to him now. He was good and didn’t press.” Cass shrugged despite how difficult it was. “That’s where we’re at.”

“But he wants to talk.”

“Just so you know,” Cass said with a slight smile, “if you tell me I should hear him out, you’ll be echoing my mother.”

“Better your mother than mine.” Gilly downed her champagne. “Mine would’ve married him by now. While being six weeks pregnant.”

“My dear Miss Whitman,” came Mr. Talbert’s voice.

Gilly’s eyes went wide. “Oops! Nearly busted. That’s my cue to let you work.” She gave Cass another quick hug. “Call me? Anything you need.”

“I will. Promise. Now go have fun.” She nodded toward a man in his early fifties with a full head of silver hair wearing an exquisite charcoal suit. “By the way, that’s Mr. Price. Go say hi.”

Mr. Talbert smiled as Gilly sauntered directly toward her male target. Then he was back to business. “Stunning job, Cass. Mr. Hungerford is nearly speechless.”

“Except when he describes the nuance of shadow over the female form.”

“You noticed that too? I keep passing him off to interested patrons.” His demeanor seemed a touch looser than usual, as if he’d partaken of one too many glasses of champagne. “He wants to take the staff out for drinks after we’re through here, to toast your success. Just across the street at Clockwork. Can you come?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Oh, and these are for you,” he said, handing her a beautiful corsage of orchids and baby’s breath. “Lisa Moyet had them sent over. She called me this afternoon from her living room, apparently rocking her son to sleep. She’s as pleased with how you pulled this off as I am.”

Throat thick with emotion, Cass pinned the corsage to her gown’s swooping neckline. After emailing and spending hours on the phone with her mentor, she was especially warmed by the idea that Lisa’s support hadn’t been misplaced.

Never had she imagined scoring such a victory for her first opening. She glanced at the nearest display, offering an appreciative thank-you to the deceased photographer and to his anonymous model lounging naked in a New Orleans doorway. Good thing Lisa hadn’t planned on a showing of Brueghel. Cass couldn’t imagine the turnout or enthusiasm being quite so overwhelming for Dutch landscapes.

Two hours later, her mouth was sticky from the champagne and too much talking. Ryan, to her surprised dismay, was nowhere to be seen. Jon and Leah had offered their congratulations, both of them pale versions of their usual manic selves. She almost felt sorry for how they were caught between her and Ryan.

That he could leave, giving up on her so easily, stung more than she wanted to admit. She touched the silk cord she’d worn as a necklace and resolved to finally give up the casino chip when she got home. No sense in being sentimental about it anymore.

Struggling for a breath that didn’t pinch with disappointment, she helped Mr. Talbert lock up, then walked with him across the street to Clockwork. Trendy but oddly classic, the hip wine bar remained a secret that the tourists had yet to discover. Cass loved its burled wood and brass fixtures, as if a radical Victorian had designed the décor. The crowd was modest by Vegas standards.

“Can I take that wrap for you, ma’am?”

Ryan’s voice washed over her, just as his hands smoothed softly down her arms. Closing her eyes, Cass fought the compulsion to turn and fling herself into his embrace. He’d waited. He’d sought her out.

That wasn’t the same as making things right.

She owed him the opportunity to do so.

“Mr. Talbert? I’ll be over in just a moment.”

Her boss waved from where he scooted into Mr. Hungerford’s private booth. That was where she belonged, with the people who had made her evening such a success, but she also belonged with Ryan. They belonged together. If only he would admit as much. The old version of herself, so timid and stuck, wouldn’t have held out for this long, not when “good enough” remained an option. She was long past thinking of “good enough” as anything but a cop-out.

Unusually dark circles hugged his lower lids. He was just as fit, just as put together as ever, but his fire was missing.

“Now’s fine,” she said. “If you want to talk.”

Without watching to see if Ryan followed, she wove through the wine bar until she stopped in a quiet corridor. Sure it led back toward the restrooms, but she wasn’t up for actually sitting with him at a table. She had no guarantee of what he wanted to say, which meant no telling how long they’d need.

Her palms were sweating, so she hid them behind her back and leaned against the wall. Ryan matched her pose. To anyone else, they might have been appraising the Clockwork’s bizarre collection of doodads and antique inventions that lined the hallway.

“I miss you,” he said simply.

She’d known he was capable of some smooth lines, but the way her heart flipped with those three words reminded her how difficult this conversation would be.

“You didn’t call.”

“Too scared.” He found a strangled laugh. “Seven tours of duty, and now hundreds of gallons of jet fuel a day, and I couldn’t pick up the phone.”

He turned, his shoulder braced against the wall. The graceful strength of his body hadn’t lost its potency. Cass fixed her gaze to the Windsor knot at his throat.

“You were right,” he said softly. “About damn near everything. That fight… I haven’t been able to think straight.” He shifted his weight. “You got under my skin so damn quick. I blamed you for doing what no one else had managed. You looked deeper and I hadn’t been ready for that. I just…didn’t know how to trust that we could have it all.”

She dared a glance up. Big mistake. His hazel eyes were shadowed with such need, as vulnerable as she’d ever seen. “And the whole Barbie-doll thing? Ryan, I can’t do this if some other woman’s words are going to haunt you forever.”

“Baby, I’m so damn wrapped up in you. The idea of sharing this…this happiness with anyone else just doesn’t make sense anymore. No matter what they wore or what role they played—Cassandra, they wouldn’t be you.” He brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “You said something about not having to choose. About finding a good woman who could give me everything. Tell me I don’t have to keep looking.”

Closing her eyes, Cass leaned gently into the hand he cupped against her cheek. He was trying. Really trying. She’d seen it in the tight set of his mouth, the clench of his jaw. He had no guarantee that she wouldn’t head right back down the hallway toward Mr. Hungerford’s table, all without a backward glance. Yet he was humbling himself, opening a vein for the chance they might be together again.

She could give him what he sought, but she had needs too. Needs she was no longer so shy about expressing.

“Ryan, I want our laughter back.”

He blinked.

“And not those fake smiles you can force if you need to,” she said. “Save those for your COs.”

“You can tell the difference?”

“Of course I can tell the difference.” She took his hand in both of hers, kissed his knuckles. “If I’m with you, I just want you. No ghosts. No hiding. So tell me now if you can’t—”

The end of the sentence never happened. Ryan’s kiss was a quick, closed-mouth shocker. He pulled back, looking panicked as if he too had been caught off guard.

Then he chuckled. It was a beautiful sound, wedged somewhere between bashfulness and wicked intent. He flattened his palms along the inward flair of her waist.

“I can.” That beautiful mouth was still shaped by his laughter. “Promise.”

“So does that mean you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Very much.”

Cass grinned. “Good. I don’t think I could call you my lover, not with a straight face. I’m not actually French.”

“You had me fooled.”

“I could’ve told you I was Cleopatra and you’d have played along.”

He leaned in close, touching a kiss to her earlobe. “Only if I got to be Mark Antony.”

“Oh, I’d pay money to see that.”

Rumbling masculine laughter teased into her body. The glint in his eyes made her shake her head in wonder. None of his embarrassment remained. None of his shame. He was the man she’d met months earlier, who’d drooled after her seamed stockings and twin braids.

She couldn’t help but want to reward such a brave step. After three weeks of loneliness, she was desperate for his mouth. Crisscrossing her forearms behind his neck, she stood on tiptoes and feathered three delicate kisses along his lower lip. His arms tightened until she thought he’d crush her corsage.

At the moment, she didn’t care.

Relief, happiness, desire and an end to weeks of aching and regret—Cass gave him all of it. Their mouths met, gently at first, as if asking one another if it was really happening. The agonizing was over. He kissed her with all the passion they both deserved, his tongue slicking her bottom lip. With a moan, she opened for him. They nipped and sucked, finding the rhythm of bodies at play.

Ryan’s hand slid down to cup her rear. The proof of his need pressed against her hip. He broke the kiss and dipped his forehead to hers. “Baby, you’ll be the death of me.”

“You’ll be smiling when you go.”

“Amen.”

“Are you going to take me home now? I want to celebrate my night.”

“Check please,” he said against her mouth.

Cass giggled, then led Ryan back toward where the gallery staff were well into their third bottle of wine.

“Good night, all,” she said with a wave. “See you Monday.”

They didn’t protest, merely lifted their glasses. There may have been a catcall or two.

Outside the bar, Ryan held her hand as they walked down the dark street. “My truck’s just up here. I can drive you into work on Monday morning, if you want.”

Cass smiled to herself. It was just so normal. Small plans they could make together. She liked the idea that this was only the beginning. “That would be perfect.”

“You know, I really liked that guy Bellocq,” he said. “He had an eye for beauty.”

“That he did.”

Ryan stopped her under a streetlamp. “Have you ever considered modeling?”

Laughing, Cass shook her head. “You’re nuts. No way.”

“No, I’m serious. You have great bone structure.” He winked, then reduced the space between them to mere inches. “I’m a photographer. It’s my job to notice these things.”

Realization hit her first. Then heat. Pure heat. He was doing more than bringing their play back to life. He was offering her
all
of his trust—the first time he’d initiated something from his imagination. Cass felt humbled by the faith he’d put in her. In them.

“I’m flattered,” she said, tipping her head. “You really think I have a shot?”

He exhaled the breath he must’ve been holding. Then it was game on. “Sure, babe. We’d have to take a few test shots, though. Just to make sure. My studio would be perfect.”

She pouted. “But, mister, I don’t know a thing about modeling.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”

Epilogue

The casino was loud. Crazy loud. Sitting at a blackjack table on the Bellagio gaming floor, Ryan could barely hear himself think, much less concentrate on his cards. Thankfully, most of the noise was over by the roulette table where someone had gathered quite the crowd. They must be on a winning streak.

Ryan had been on an awesome winning streak lately too. Every time he walked in his front door to find Cassandra waiting there, sometimes with dinner on the table, sometimes with a takeout menu in her hand, he knew he’d hit the jackpot. The nights when she came in late from the gallery and smiled at seeing the food he’d managed not to burn, her smile was another jackpot. One of the huge ones that left a lucky man happy for life.

He hit on fourteen, only to receive a jack. The dealer swept away both cards and chips.

Ryan’s fingers tapped on the padded edge of the table without rhythm. His foot bounced wildly. With short jerks, he twitched down the cuffs of the dress uniform Cassandra had asked him to wear.

He was more than nervous. Insanely so.