Smoke and Mirrors (8 page)

Part of her wanted to fire off a clever retort, but the other part wanted to laugh. Here she was, naked as the day she was born, save for the sheet she hugged to her breasts, sitting across from her prime suspect. His hands had been all over her body, doing deliciously intoxicating things.

And now he had the gall to insinuate this whole scene was designed to make her enjoy her date with his brother?

"Well, well," she drawled. "I appreciate your concern, but what happens between me and Brent is none of your business."

"Now that's where you're wrong. Like I keep telling you, I watch out for people in my care."

She gritted her teeth. "So full body massages are just another part of my compensation package?"

"Not if we're smart." He backed away from her. "Enjoy your dinner with my little ladies' man of a brother. I'm sure he'll be much more civilized than I am."

A surprising flash of disappointment cut through her, followed by repulsion. The thought of Brent touching her turned her stomach. "One can hope."

That killer smile of his touched
Mansfield
's lips, and before Cass could pull back, he'd taken her still-damp braid into his hand. With it, he tugged her toward him. She obliged, because he left her no choice, but she had no idea of his intent until it was too late.

If she had, she would have put up more of a fight.

At least that's what she told herself.

Derek's mouth swooped down on hers. "A little something to think about," he murmured against her lips, "
while
you're with baby brother." Then a bit of pressure, followed by a flick of his tongue against her lower lip.

Sensations assailed her. "And for you to think about while with Brooke?" she tossed back a tad too breathlessly.

He eased away from her, eyes simmering. "She's a beautiful woman, isn't she?"

Cass bit back the sting of jealousy. "Yes, very."

"Smart, too."

"How nice for you."

"Looks and intelligence," he
summarized,
his grin widening. "Family traits, you know."

The need to scratch his eyes out surfaced again, blurring the impact of his words. "Family traits?"

"At least on the
Mansfield
side that is."

"
Mansfield
side?"

Derek laughed. "Brooke's my cousin, Cass."

"Cousin?"

"And despite the lurid tales you've chosen to believe, even I wouldn't carry on with family."

Then he was gone. And Cass was left alone, sitting naked atop the massage table, clutching the black sheet to her body, every nerve ending exposed and raw.

Feeling. Dear God, he'd done it to her again.

* * *

Derek rubbed his temples and leaned back in his chair. He'd spent the majority of the day in meetings, an annoyance he hadn't missed for one second while in
Scotland
with his grandfather.

"Vilas is here," he said into the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. The line was secure. "And you were right. The waiting only made him more eager."

Luc laughed. "Of course I was right. What about the smoke? Has it cleared?"

"Looks that way. From what I can tell—" His words died when he caught sight of Cass in one of the security monitors. She eased behind the reception desk,
then
looked around furtively, as though she expected to find someone watching her.

If only she knew how right she was.

He'd caught himself several times during the day, studying her from across the lobby, seeking her out on the video screens. Her hair was back in its trademark braid, her form-fitting suit revealing her generous curves and distractingly long legs. But she looked robotic, maybe even tired, like she hadn't slept much the night before.

The fact she'd been with Brent seared a hole in his gut.

He knew he should let her be. But he couldn't ignore her, not when she watched him with those searching eyes of hers. That's why he'd challenged her to go out with Brent, why he'd crossed the line with the massage. Damn, but he could still see her sitting on that table, naked except for the black sheet clutched to her chest.

He could still taste the temptation on her lips.

His plan had backfired.

"I've got to go," he growled into the phone and stood abruptly. "We'll talk more
later
."

For ten hours he'd contented himself with watching from a distance, but now he strode across his office and to the elevator. Just a few more nudges, he told himself. Push a little harder, for a little longer, and he'd sever this dangerous attraction before someone got hurt.

She strode from behind the counter with a large leather satchel slung over her shoulder. Her walk was hurried, determined.

"Got another hot date?" he asked by way of greeting.

Cass stopped dead in her tracks. He saw her shoulders go rigid, her body stiffen. It was a moment before she turned to face him, revealing the first real spark he'd seen in her eyes all day.

Derek tried not to stare, but he was never prepared for the impact she had on him, like a free fall from a high cliff. "You weren't going to leave without saying good-night, were you, honey?"

A slow smile curved her generous lips. "How can I say good-night if you're nowhere in sight?"

He looked beyond her to where Ruth stood, watching with interest. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Ruth, honey, but you can see me, can't you?"

"Absolutely," she answered. "Just as I've seen you off and on all day."

The news seemed to startle Cass, forcing Derek to realize just how distracted she'd been.

"Spying on me?" she asked.

"Just admiring," he replied with a wicked smile.

Her eyes flared wide. "Then I hope you enjoyed the show," she said curtly, then turned back toward the front doors.

Derek wasn't ready to let her go, not when she made him feel so damn alive. In three strides he was by her side, his hand on her arm. "Why the rush?"

Slowly she met his gaze. "Maybe I do have another hot date. Is that so hard to believe?"

Just like that, his good mood crumbled into dust. "Baby brother again?" he asked coldly. The thought of Brent and Cass together in an intimate way sent a low roar thundering through him. His pulse pounded. "Was last night that good?"

She blinked up at him. "Why, Derek, I'm not a kiss-and-tell kind of girl. How do you
think
he was?"

He went very still. "Don't play games with me."

"Games?" she asked innocently, obviously enjoying the upper hand. "Whatever are you talking about?"

He pulled her closer. "I'm talking about you and me and the fireworks that go off whenever we're within ten feet of each other." Like right now, damn it. Just standing close to her made him hard. And that made him mad. "Did baby brother have any idea you were remembering the way I made you feel when you gazed into his eyes, laughed at his jokes … tasted his lips?"

Her eyes flared. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Don't lie," he countered. "We're playing a dangerous game here, doll. You realize that, don't you?"

She twisted free of his grip and stepped back from him. Fire flashed in her defiant gaze. "I'm not the one who insisted I go to dinner with your brother. What do you want from me,
Dare-ek?
What kind of game are
you
playing?"

Damn but she was a sight to behold when she rallied like that. He tried to remain stern, but in truth he wanted to grin. The woman gave as
good
as she got. "You have to ask?"

"What I have to do is leave, before—"

"Cass, love, there you are!" Brent hurried across the hardwood floor, like a man eager to fall into his lover's arms.

Cass stepped back, clearly using space to erect a barrier between her and Brent.

And Derek had his answer.

The satisfaction he felt was damning, at best; deadly, at worst.

Brent took Cass's hands and ridiculously kissed the back of her knuckles. "I've been trying to break away all day, but—" the angelic-little-boy smile that kept him out of trouble as a kid appeared, and he shrugged "—running a hotel leaves little room for anything else."

Derek bit back a snort of laughter, earning Cass's startled glance. A smile played in her eyes, as well. They both knew Brent barely lifted a finger to run the hotel. His brother was all charm and good intentions, but very little follow-through.

"No problem," Cass said. "I was just on my way out…"

"But—"

"Excuse me, Brent," Ruth interrupted. "You have a call on line three."

Frowning, Brent reached for the phone. "Don't go anywhere," he told Cass, then pivoted and began talking in hushed tones.

Cass turned to leave, but Derek snagged her wrist before she could take a step. "You heard baby brother," he teased. "If you walk out on him like that, he'll be crushed."

"Like you would care."

"Of course I care. He's my brother."

She glared up at him. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, and frankly I don't care. But—"

"Daddy!"

The exuberant cry stopped Cass's tirade cold. She spun toward the direction of the voice, where a dark-haired boy raced through the lobby.

Derek's mood instantly lightened. He dropped to his knees and opened his arms. "Whoa there, little man," he said, intercepting Ryan and wrapping him in a big bear hug. He hadn't seen him in months, had fought like hell to make sure Brent didn't lose partial custody of him during the divorce hearing.

He didn't want his nephew to grow up without a father, the way he had. "Daddy's busy right now, but I've got a surprise for you waiting upstairs."

The boy pulled back and grinned. "Is it a puppy?"

Derek took in the hope in the boy's eyes and made a mental note. "A puppy? Now what would you do with a puppy?"

"Teach him to play fetch," Ryan answered, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Derek laughed,
then
pushed to his feet. "Cass, I'd like you to meet—"

But she wasn't there. She was hurrying across the marble floor of the lobby, her strides incredibly long, considering her straight black skirt. She almost looked to be running.

A bad feeling settled low in his gut. His woman of sunlight and shadows wasn't one to run from a damn thing, not even when she should. "Cass?"

She didn't stop, didn't hesitate, just pulled open the door and vanished into the gray of twilight.

* * *

Daddy?

The word circled Cass like a vulture moving in for the kill. She stood on the periphery of the bustling park, trying to block the image of that adorable little boy launching himself into
Mansfield
's arms. The implications shredded her.

Her research hadn't uncovered one word about Derek having a son. She'd had no idea she was about to throw a young boy's father behind bars.

How could she have missed this, too?

Around her signs of happiness and vitality raced on, children laughing and playing, young adults, the elderly, but Cass just stood there, watching. Remembering.

Dear God, a child…

The thought brought a deep ache to her chest, and reality came slicing in. Once, the thought of children had lit up her world. Now she could hardly look at a little boy or girl without falling apart. She'd had a child once, a son. He'd been her heart and her soul and everything in between.

A part of her had died with him, as well.

In the ensuing five years she'd thrown herself into her job, leaving no room, no time, for anything, anyone, else. But when she lay alone in her bed at night, in her quiet house, with her son's dog at her feet, she couldn't escape the truth.

Work was a sorry substitute for love. Work couldn't throw arms around her after a long, grueling day, couldn't smile and melt away her troubles, couldn't laugh,
sure
as hell couldn't love her back. Couldn't grow up, go to school,
get
married.

Couldn't replace her son.

Shaking now, Cass wrapped her arms around her midsection. She felt the tears streaming down her face, but didn't bother swatting them away.

They were all she had left of her son.

She'd had her chance, and she'd blown it. Nothing could change that cold reality, just as nothing could bring back her family. Sometimes she fooled herself into thinking the grief had receded, but the darkness always seeped back, reminding her that the past could not be erased.

That's why she'd quit trying.

If only she could quit remembering.

* * *

The sight of her standing there hacked through Derek like a serrated knife. She looked beautifully serene, still as a statue, staring at the madness surrounding her. Then he noticed the tears. Two silvery tracks down her pale cheeks, a silent testimony to inner pain.