Stripped Down (19 page)

Her side of the bed.

Man, he liked how that sounded. He rolled over again, burying his face in her pillow and breathing deep of the signature scent that was all her—perfume combined with shampoo, expensive hairspray and something that was faintly all her own.

They’d gone to bed early every night but fallen asleep so late he had no idea how she was still functioning. Talking between bouts of nearly crazed lovemaking, they’d learned so much about each other. Little things, such as the fact she loved Jif whipped chocolate peanut butter-and-banana sandwiches. That he had grown up wanting to be a pilot but had never flown anything more than a kite. That she wanted a dog in the worst way but felt she didn’t have the space or time for the breed she wanted. That his favorite food was Alaskan king crab. That she hated seafood with a passion. All kinds of similarities and differences that made her so real to him, seating her in his heart in a way that should have taken months and months of effort yet had been nearly immediate and absolutely effortless.

By some unspoken agreement, neither of them talked about their day job.

As Dan had warned, on Monday the engineers had confirmed EPA approval of their plan, but had informed Sovereign that the plan would cost significantly more than originally forecast. He’d never met the engineering team—the bids had been blind to prevent unethical behavior. But they’d be there for the meeting with the board, pushing their plan. Which was just as well, since he needed all the help he could get to convince the board to pony up even more money. But all of that was stress he didn’t want to bring into his relationship with Cass, and besides, judging how tired she was when she came home, she didn’t need it.

The pipes rattled a little beneath the floor when Cass turned on the shower, and he heard the sound of the curtain being pulled closed seconds before he heard her curses.

Shifting to his side, he listened and grinned. “You always forget that it takes a few minutes for the water heater to get chugging,” he shouted.

“I hate you,” she called out.

He had no idea if she was talking to him or the water heater. It didn’t matter. He was so damn happy he wouldn’t have cared if it had all been directed at him.

Sleep reclaimed him somewhere between that last thought and the fundamental understanding he’d completely fallen for this woman in a matter of days. He woke sometime later to fingers threading through his hair and soft lips at his temple.

“I have to go home and get some clothes. I’m already out of what I brought over Sunday.”

Sighing, he fought the urge to slip back into the dream he’d been caught up in. The bed shifted as she moved away. “You should call in, spend the day with me,” he murmured, face still half pressed into the pillow.
Her
pillow.

A smile hovered in her answer. “And what would we do?”

“Each other.”

This time she laughed. “I have a monster-ass meeting today.”

“Monster ass, huh? I’m no competition when I’m up against
that
kind of entertainment.” He rolled onto his side, rubbing his face with one hand. “It was wishful thinking, anyway. My day is packed with stuff I can’t get out of.” Even if he wanted to. And he did.

Soft lips traveled down his cheek and rested near his chin. “I’d love to stay here. I doubt this meeting is going to go well. Apparently the CEO we’ll be presenting to today is a real dick.”

“Call me when you’re out. We’ll grab lunch. Or each other. Whatever.”

She laughed, hot breath skating across his skin.

“Oh, and Cass?”

“Yes?”

“If the guy’s that much of a dick, be sure to practice safe business.”

This time her laughter rolled out in peals, the sound warming him even as he slid back into sleep. He was going to miss her this morning, but he had his own mountains to climb.

His stomach rolled over as his heart thundered inside his chest like Thor’s hammer. Panic stole his breath and turned his liver to mush. It struck every nerve, hammering at him until his hands fisted and his muscles cramped in a full-body charley horse.

His primary concern was the board approving the engineer’s proposal, a proposal he couldn’t afford to fund without more money from his investors. He’d have to get them to dig into their own coffers to come up with the difference between what he had in available cash and assets versus what the proposal mandated. And they weren’t going to like it.

He didn’t want to deal with the board today. The potential for financial devastation and the loss of his dream had no business crowding out the happiness, the sense of settled belonging he’d finally found. One false step and he’d be screwed. He’d just have to ensure that didn’t happen. No matter what.

* * *

L
OST IN THOUGHT
, Cass walked through the parking garage attached to her apartment building. She’d experienced so much over the past six days with Dalton she was feeling out of sorts—calm yet giddy, scared yet thrilled, lost yet found. So completely found. Never in her life had she been so sure of her place, and that place was with Dalton. Every moment with him was saturated with life, complete in a way that let her know she hadn’t been entirely complete before. She hadn’t been unhappy. That wasn’t it. It was that, when she was with Dalton, she was
more.
She was
better.
He took the shades of black and white her life had always been and added bold strokes of color and dimension, created depth and movement. He made her feel alive in a way she’d never experienced before. He made her feel loved.

She was exactly who she wanted to be when she was with him. It truly didn’t matter he was a stripper. It didn’t matter he didn’t have money or a hefty portfolio or connections to families that would strengthen the Jameson empire. Those were all things her father wanted, even expected. They weren’t who she was. Dalton had none of the things her father demanded of her suitors, and that thrilled her. This man,
her
man, was everything she needed, everything she wanted, and all on her own terms. He hadn’t come to her seeking to gain something through a strategic relationship or, heaven save her, marriage. He hadn’t come to her planning to use her to get closer to her father and his influence. No. Dalton had come to her of his own accord. He’d bared himself to her and shown her what it was to be loved.

Overcome, she threw her arms wide and spun in a circle, head back and eyes closed as she laughed. She’d completely fallen for him, heart and soul.

Her hands slammed into somebody and she yanked them back, stumbling to regain her balance. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Strong hands gripped her shoulders. “Forgiven.” Lips crushed hers in a bruising kiss.

She returned the kiss for a split second, thinking that Dalton had followed her home for some reason. Then it registered—the taste of expensive cigars and smooth whiskey, the texture of lips that were too thin, the smell of Clive Christian No. 1, the feel of wool and cashmere beneath her fingers—this wasn’t Dalton.

Fighting to free herself, she wrenched her mouth to the side and gasped. Then the self-defense classes Gwen had insisted they take for their first couple of years in Seattle kicked in. She screamed as loud as she could in her assailant’s ear. When he jerked back, she head butted him, a satisfying grunt the man’s only response. His hands tightened on her arms, so she stomped on his insole and attempted to knee him in the groin as hard as she could. He twisted at the last second, though, and she struck thigh as much as testicles. Still, the man crumpled like an empty gunnysack.

Cass stumbled away, fighting to keep from blindly running and putting herself in more danger by pinning herself in.

“Damn it, Cass!” Blue eyes blazed beneath dark brows and a trendy executive haircut that was now thoroughly out of sorts. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Marcus?” she asked blinking rapidly. “Why... What was that about?” The longer she stood there catching her breath, the angrier she became. “What in God’s name gave you the impression I’d be fine with you assaulting me? No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know what twisted little game you’ve cooked up this time. The answer is, and will always be, no. Not only no, but
hell
no. So pack up your poster-pretty image and scuttle home to my father. Tell him I’ll be passing on his latest attempt at matchmaking. I’ve managed just fine on my own.” Fury made her stupid, and the words were out before she realized she’d given the pair something to use against her. Cursing herself, she spun on her heel and started for the elevators.

A viselike grip locked on her upper arm and hauled her around. Momentum slammed her into Marcus’s body. “Heads up? I haven’t been screwing that lifeless assistant of yours for nothing.” He laughed when her eyes widened. “It’s amazing what a woman will say and do when she thinks a man gives a damn about her. I know enough about Preservations to take over when the time comes.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Cass snapped, pulling against his hold. “You’ll never have that position.”

“No,
you
listen, you little bitch. I’ve earned this position with your father, and he agreed you were part of my compensation package. So I’m not about to let you go and screw it all up. You
won’t
throw me over for some twenty-buck, lap-dancing, lying male whore who offers you cheap flowers and a three-dollar bottle of wine with your Olive Garden takeout.”

Her stomach launched itself into her throat as if it had been emergency ejected. Swallowing bile, she shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he did. Her assistant, a woman she had trusted with so much, had sold her out. And for what? What had he promised her? Just another example of men lying and cheating to get what and where they wanted.

Then there was Dalton. Everything Marcus had mentioned in his oily diatribe had been something she’d experienced with Dalton. True, wildflowers weren’t expensive, but she’d loved them because he’d chosen something different for her. They’d ordered takeout from Olive Garden so they could sit in bed and watch the newest Jeff Dunham comedy special. And the wine
had
been cheap, but it had been spontaneous and fun and she’d licked the flavor from Dalton’s lips and—

Marcus shook her hard enough her head snapped back. “Your little Magic Mike isn’t who you think he is.”

“You leave Dalton out of this,” she snarled.

Marcus’s eyebrows winged up. “Dalton? Did he say that was his name?” He roared with laughter, shaking so hard he actually let her go to grip his side. Cass shoved him back with a hard shot to the shoulder, but he kept laughing.

Whirling away from him, she stalked across the parking lot.
Stairs or elevator?
Either way, she didn’t want to end up trapped somewhere with Marcus. She was pissed to admit he’d scared and confused her. Badly. Her heels clipped across the concrete, pounding out a harsh rhythm a hairbreadth from a run.

“He’s lying to you, Cass.”

She flipped Marcus the bird, never slowing down.

“Just remember that I warned you when this all blows up in your face,” he said just loudly enough for her to hear him. “And it will.”

“Stay away from me, Marcus.” Punching the down button for the elevator, she glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see him standing where he’d been, hands in his pockets, and grinning. “Next time you come anywhere near me, I’ll get a restraining order. How long do you think dear ol’ Dad will keep you on when you become a public relations liability?” She tapped her lips with one finger as she feigned deep thought. She dropped her hand from her mouth and stared at him with abject hatred. “I’ve watched more of your kind come and go in the past few years than you can imagine. You’re no different from the last three Jameson let go, so don’t go fooling yourself you’re different or special. You’re replaceable, because there are a hundred more like you dogging your heels.”

The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside, frantically pressing the close button as Marcus started after her. If she ended up trapped in here with him, if he pushed the emergency stop, if he wasn’t lying and her father had done just what he’d said and offered her up as some kind of prize—

The doors slid shut with a soft hiss, and the car began its descent. At the third floor, she started shaking. Black spots danced across her vision and she wondered, briefly, if she was going to faint for the first time in her life.

“No,” she ground out, bending at the waist and forcing herself to breathe slow and deep.

The elevator stopped at her floor and the doors opened. Cass stood, steadied herself and then walked out as if nothing had happened, heading straight for her apartment.

Letting herself in, she closed the door and leaned against it. She was home. It felt good, if a little empty without Dalton. A soft beep made her glance at her phone. The voice mail was blinking rapidly.

She grabbed the handset and dialed.

“Front desk, Madeline speaking.”

“Hey, Madeline. It’s Cass Wheeler. You left me a message to call the front desk for a pickup?”

“Yes, ma’am. You have a delivery.”

Dread curled through her, its fingers impossibly cold. “I haven’t ordered anything.”

“Oh, it’s not that kind of delivery.” The woman, younger than the concierge Cass had argued with before, couldn’t contain her unabashed enthusiasm. “It’s the kind of delivery every woman wants to come home to.”

The memory of wildflowers crushed between her and Dalton made her heart skip a beat. “Flowers?”

“I’ll say. There are at least three-dozen long-stemmed roses here in a cut crystal vase. They’re over-the-top, Ms. Jameson. Whoever sent them surely intended to impress you. I’d say he succeeded.”

Cass swallowed hard through her constricting throat. She didn’t have to read the card to be sure they weren’t from Dalton. He wouldn’t have sent her something that didn’t suit her. He knew her too well.

But how well did she know him? Marcus had been too damn smug not to know something she didn’t. He’d been way too confident this was going to blow up in her face.