couldn’t.’
‘I don’t know what’s happened to you, but you are so not my little sister any more. It’s not like you, Cass, to be so closed off with men. You’re usually more than happy for a thing. Thing is what you do. You, my darling, are the thing queen.’
‘I don’t want a thing . Not with him or anyone else. I’m taking a break for a while.’ For ever? That sounded kind of perfect. No complications, no one stealing her stuff, no one making wonderful gestures and treating her nicely in a gruff way and being a perfect gentleman. With a time fetish. Not to mention she was so over roasting-hot kisses up against her hallway wall.
‘What exactly did happen with Patrick? You never said. One minute he was on the scene, the next gone. I know you tend to have a short attention span with men, but you went seriously quiet over him.’
‘Oh, you know; the usual stuff. It wasn’t me; it was him. Can we not talk about this now? I have a traffic warden breathing down my neck and a culinary emergency.’
She smiled reluctantly at the phrase Jack had used. The way he’d looked at her—Sasha was right—he’d hardly taken his eyes off her from the second she sat down. And the rest of the happenings of the evening had gone by in a relative blur for her too. Except she remembered very clearly how his eyes had been so dark and warm, and his smile had made her stomach dance, how he had looked so... Oh, please. She was a sensible twenty-six years of age, not a swooning teenager, and had already decided that this could not go any further.
If only she could get him out of her head, but he was hell-bent on staying there, grouching around, frowning at the messiness of her brain. Laughing at the whirls and kinks he caused in there.
‘Cassie? So you’re okay? I mean, not in any trouble?’
‘No. No.’ But her voice wobbled as she thought of the contract disappearing, of Jack and his kisses and her sorry mind that couldn’t compute anything any more. She was in heaps of trouble. This was definitely not the time for a sibling confessional, but Cassie felt that if she didn’t tell someone she’d explode. Perhaps her sister could talk sense into her. Then she remembered her sister had married the most unsuitable, unreliable commitment-phobe rock star ever. Sense was something Sasha had eschewed for the sake of love. But the words were already spilling from her lips. ‘He kissed me. And I kissed him back.’
It was very unlike her sister to squeal. But when she did it was loud and messy. ‘You did what? When?’
‘Last-week-and-last-night.’ If she said it quickly perhaps her sister wouldn’t hear the sordid details.
‘He kissed you twice? Why in hell didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because it took me by surprise. I was going to tell you as soon as I knew what was happening. Honestly. It all happened so fast. Then there was nothing. And then it happened again.’ She didn’t want to say the words out loud and admit that something was happening inside her too. That she’d found a man who intrigued her enough to want to impress him. And no, it wasn’t just about the money. Because she was confused, dammit. ‘There’s a traffic warden breathing down my neck. I have a muddled head and a flat tyre and I’m running late.’
‘You kissed him. And then you kissed him again. I want details.’
‘No. No, I can’t, not here.’ Not ever. Seemed that the older she got, the less she wanted to share about her private life. Or was that because she was wiser now? And didn’t even want a private life.
‘You want to impress him. And that’s why you don’t want to talk to him and admit to being something less than perfect.’
It wasn’t about being perfect. It was about trust—of her heart, of her decisions, and of him. And if she told her sister this she’d have to explain about Patrick and the stolen money and admit to keeping even more things from the one person who knew her better than anyone. She’d have to
‘I don’t know what’s happened to you, but you are so not my little sister any more. It’s not like you, Cass, to be so closed off with men. You’re usually more than happy for a thing. Thing is what you do. You, my darling, are the thing queen.’
‘I don’t want a thing . Not with him or anyone else. I’m taking a break for a while.’ For ever? That sounded kind of perfect. No complications, no one stealing her stuff, no one making wonderful gestures and treating her nicely in a gruff way and being a perfect gentleman. With a time fetish. Not to mention she was so over roasting-hot kisses up against her hallway wall.
‘What exactly did happen with Patrick? You never said. One minute he was on the scene, the next gone. I know you tend to have a short attention span with men, but you went seriously quiet over him.’
‘Oh, you know; the usual stuff. It wasn’t me; it was him. Can we not talk about this now? I have a traffic warden breathing down my neck and a culinary emergency.’
She smiled reluctantly at the phrase Jack had used. The way he’d looked at her—Sasha was right—he’d hardly taken his eyes off her from the second she sat down. And the rest of the happenings of the evening had gone by in a relative blur for her too. Except she remembered very clearly how his eyes had been so dark and warm, and his smile had made her stomach dance, how he had looked so... Oh, please. She was a sensible twenty-six years of age, not a swooning teenager, and had already decided that this could not go any further.
If only she could get him out of her head, but he was hell-bent on staying there, grouching around, frowning at the messiness of her brain. Laughing at the whirls and kinks he caused in there.
‘Cassie? So you’re okay? I mean, not in any trouble?’
‘No. No.’ But her voice wobbled as she thought of the contract disappearing, of Jack and his kisses and her sorry mind that couldn’t compute anything any more. She was in heaps of trouble. This was definitely not the time for a sibling confessional, but Cassie felt that if she didn’t tell someone she’d explode. Perhaps her sister could talk sense into her. Then she remembered her sister had married the most unsuitable, unreliable commitment-phobe rock star ever. Sense was something Sasha had eschewed for the sake of love. But the words were already spilling from her lips. ‘He kissed me. And I kissed him back.’
It was very unlike her sister to squeal. But when she did it was loud and messy. ‘You did what? When?’
‘Last-week-and-last-night.’ If she said it quickly perhaps her sister wouldn’t hear the sordid details.
‘He kissed you twice? Why in hell didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because it took me by surprise. I was going to tell you as soon as I knew what was happening. Honestly. It all happened so fast. Then there was nothing. And then it happened again.’ She didn’t want to say the words out loud and admit that something was happening inside her too. That she’d found a man who intrigued her enough to want to impress him. And no, it wasn’t just about the money. Because she was confused, dammit. ‘There’s a traffic warden breathing down my neck. I have a muddled head and a flat tyre and I’m running late.’
‘You kissed him. And then you kissed him again. I want details.’
‘No. No, I can’t, not here.’ Not ever. Seemed that the older she got, the less she wanted to share about her private life. Or was that because she was wiser now? And didn’t even want a private life.
‘You want to impress him. And that’s why you don’t want to talk to him and admit to being something less than perfect.’
It wasn’t about being perfect. It was about trust—of her heart, of her decisions, and of him. And if she told her sister this she’d have to explain about Patrick and the stolen money and admit to keeping even more things from the one person who knew her better than anyone. She’d have to
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