Heaven Beside You (13 page)

“You’re right.” She slid off the counter and turned away from him. Turning down the Crock-Pot hadn’t even been necessary.

“What are you mad about?”

“I’m not mad,” Cass lied. She was, just not at him. Why wasn’t she being more responsible, more mature? Instead, she was acting like a hormone-driven high school girl. With shaking hands, she put her pie in the oven.

“Come on. I’m pretty good at knowing what mad looks like and it usually looks like this. Is it because I wouldn’t have sex with you?”

She slammed the oven door and turned back to him. He stood in the middle of the kitchen barefoot and shirtless, still incredibly sexy, mouth hanging open. Well, she wasn’t that far from baffled either. “No. Because I would have.”

Jason folded his arms. “Okay, that almost makes sense.”

Cass folded her arms too and remembered she was also shirtless. Her shirt and bra lay on the floor in the doorway behind him. “I should be old enough to know better. I don’t know where you’ve been. I don’t even know why you’re so interested in me. Could be I’m just the only woman handy.”

“Where I’ve been? What am I, used Kleenex?” He scowled, which also looked sexy. Only now he looked very, very angry, and sexy and shirtless and barefoot.

“No, but you might be a little cold here on the mountain,” she snapped.

“Not hardly. I think I can last a couple of celibate weeks.”

“Really? I haven’t seen it. You had me within forty-eight hours.”

“I didn’t hear you protesting.”

Cass adjusted her arms. She hadn’t protested. She’d hopped into bed at the first opportunity and acted like some kind of whore. “No, you’re right and if I remember correctly that’s why I was mad in the first place.”

Jason ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t need this. I came up here to de-stress, not make things worse.” He stalked down the hall.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my cabin.” He grabbed his coat off the floor and pulled it on then yanked open the door and as he left, slammed it behind him.

Cass picked up her flannel shirt and watched him walk back to his cabin, barefoot with his coat flapping behind him. The tree still blocked the road and it was getting dark. She’d have to get it after dinner. If she could get herself to do anything after dinner. Right now the best course of action seemed to be curling up in a ball on the floor and sobbing, but that hadn’t helped when Michael left so she doubted it would be any more successful this time. She needed to do something. Move on. Take some sort of action. She checked the time. Dinner should be ready soon. It was at the very least, a place to start.

“Shit.” Jason slammed the door behind him.

Halfway to his cabin he’d realized he wasn’t wearing his shoes. Another four steps, and he’d remembered he wasn’t wearing a shirt either. By the time he’d reached the door, he was shuddering against the cold and wishing he was in Cassie’s warm house, in her warm bed.

In Cassie’s warm arms.

Why had he stormed out?

Jason poured himself a generous whiskey and slammed it back, coughing and sputtering when the liquid scorched his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and poured another. Then he slumped on the couch and stared into the dead hearth.

From the moment he’d noticed the dinner, he’d become alarmed. A large chicken casserole, rolls, apple butter, cherry pie. People didn’t put together a meal like that unless they expected company. Therefore, she’d expected company. Him. She’d baited the trap, and like a big dummy, he’d walked right in and said, “Oooh, cheese!”

But she’d been cooking a roast when he’d shown up, hadn’t known who was coming or that he wouldn’t have his own dinner.

He took a more appropriate sip of his whiskey and leaned his head against the back of the couch. The alcohol warmed his mouth, reminding him that nothing else was warm. He hadn’t even taken off his coat.

It had been a memorable afternoon. The snowball fight followed by that incredible kiss in the snow. Then the incredible sex in her bed. He wasn’t without a standard of comparison, but he hadn’t yet met a woman he’d wanted to dive into and never surface from the way he did with Cass. She was hot and sleek and genuinely responsive.

His feet started to itch from the cold. He could fix the problem by taking a hot shower but that involved too much effort. Instead, he shrugged off his coat and threw it across the back of the couch. The chill helped clear his sex-deprived brain.

Maybe she hadn’t been so genuinely responsive. Maybe it was all part of an elaborate ploy. He’d experienced plenty of ardent pursuit since he’d become rich and famous. Some of them were after the rich, others, the fame. All had wanted the guy they thought he was. The famous guy. Sometimes they fooled him, but never his sisters or his mom. When they all hated Stella on sight, he should have known something was wrong with her. He needed to get one of his sisters out here to look Cass over.

Jason stood up. He did not need one of his sisters to check out Cass because this wouldn’t be any kind of permanent relationship. This was supposed to be an affair. Short, sweet and to the point. If she thought she could manipulate it into something more, was she wrong. He picked up the whiskey bottle, carried it back to the couch and refilled his glass. Besides, he had what he wanted. He’d gotten her twice in one afternoon and they’d been headed for a hat trick in the kitchen until he’d remembered his one and only condom had ended up in the trash beside her bed. If he’d been a rat about it, he could have been eating her food in her warm house after another nice session in her soft bed.

But besides the legal implications, he didn’t do that kind of thing.

Her comment about where he’d been stung. Although, he didn’t have any right to be upset. She was right. They didn’t know each other well enough to get in too deep, despite his natural inclination to do just that.

His sister the lawyer, however, could dig up most of the dirt he needed. He picked up his phone and hit her preset. While he waited for her to answer, he emptied his glass.

“Hello?”

“Tessa, my favorite sister.” The alcohol was beginning to flow through his veins like antifreeze. He couldn’t even feel his feet anymore. He reached for the bottle. Already half empty. If he didn’t slow down, he’d have to risk those girls at the grocery store again to resupply. He set the bottle down without refilling his glass.

“What have you done, Jason?”

“Nothing. I just wanted you to get some information for me.”

“I see.”

Knowing her, she indeed probably saw everything. Guilt settled in his gut. “Her name is Cassandra Geoffrey. She owns this campground I’m at.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Tessa said. “Do you want me to send you the information there or will you call?”

If a FedEx truck appeared at Cass’s door with a package for him, she probably wouldn’t assume it was a dossier on her. Still, he didn’t like the idea that she might guess something was up. “I’ll call you. She lived in New York City for a while.”

“Well, that will definitely make her easier to hunt down,” his sister retorted.

“Tessa, you’re my favorite lawyer.”

“I hope so. You bought the degree. I’ll tell Mom you made it okay. This shouldn’t take more than a couple of days. Give me a call Monday. Take care, little brother.”

“Thank you, Tessa. See ya.” He tossed the phone on the table and stood to stretch. A hesitant knock at the door interrupted him.

It might be Cass. She might have decided she wanted to give him a second chance. Or she remembered that she’d promised to relight his fire, which would give him a chance to relight hers. Almost willing to admit to excitement at the prospect, he yanked open the door.

Outside, Angela looked like she might flee. “Mr. Callisto?”

Jason stared at her for a minute. Why wasn’t it Cass? What the fuck was the least terrifying grocery store girl even doing here? Then he noticed the plastic grocery bag clutched in her hand. She had promised to bring him dinner tonight. “Hey, Angela, you’re here right on time. Call me Jason.” He stepped back from the door to allow her in, but she stayed rooted to the porch.

“There’s a tree in the drive,” she pointed out.

Beyond her, the tree still lay there. Cass must be eating her dinner or something. He hoped she was eating dinner. ‘
Or something
’ took in a whole range of messy female emotions that made him guilty. Guiltier.

Angela wasn’t looking at his face, but focused on a spot over his head. The effort canted her head back at an unnecessarily obvious angle. Her blush could heat the living room. Probably the shirtlessness. “Come on in and make yourself at home while I get some clothes on.”

“Okay,” she muttered.

As he walked through the bedroom door, he glanced back. He hoped moving away would give her the breathing room she needed to step inside and close the door. She managed to get the door closed, but that seemed to be it.

Sorting through the clothes he’d brought, he found the raggediest, dowdiest sweater he owned. Angela had known Cass a heck of a long time. Tessa could get Cass’s tax returns, but Angela handled her groceries. The government knew a lot, but the grocer knew more. Between them he could have a very detailed picture of Cass. In return, he could give Angela a huge ego boost by being nice, and from the look of her, she needed it. However, not leading her on while still being friendly would be tricky.

When he reentered the living room, she stood poised for flight in front of the door. She’d never even taken off her coat.

“I put it in the oven,” she said. “You can take everything out in a half an hour. It’ll be hot and ready then. Just give the dishes to Cass. She’ll get them back to me.”

The words
hot and ready
didn’t have the same meaning with Angela. “You’re not staying for dinner?”

“Staying for dinner?”

“Sure.” He lifted her coat off her shoulders and tossed it over the back of the couch with his. “You did all the work of cooking, you should enjoy it. Would you like something to drink?”

Angela eyed the whiskey bottle on the table. “I don’t drink.”

“Yeah, don’t start. It’s a bad habit.” He scooped up the bottle from the table and stashed it in the kitchen.

“Your fire’s gone out,” she said.

“I know, but I don’t know how to start a new one.”

“Oh, I can do that.” She went to the hearth and peered in the wood box. “Your wood box is almost empty.”

“Why don’t I go outside and get some more wood while you get it going?”

Angela set to work before he’d gotten outside. On the top step, he remembered that he’d left his shoes in Cass’s house. He glanced in that direction. What did he expect to see? Her curtain twitching as she spied on him? The tracks from the snowball fight earlier ranged around the center, his own footsteps leading from her house to his and Angela’s leading around Cass’s to his door, and the tree. Frowning, he gathered up an armload of wood from the pile beside the house.

Why did it matter? He’d had her. Why did he need to know about her tax returns and her groceries? Why did it really matter?

“It just does,” he muttered to himself as he walked onto the porch and went inside. “This is a nice little town,” he said to Angela. “Have you lived here all your life?”

“Oh, yeah. I never really wanted to go anywhere else. Not like Cass. I’d be afraid to live in New York.”

“I didn’t know Cass lived in New York,” Jason lied, sitting down in one of the chairs.

Angela started stacking wood in an elaborate pattern in the fireplace. “Yes, she did. She lived there for five years before she came home. She was some kind of artist. She paints these great pictures that she sometimes sells to the tourists in the summer. She’s really good. Maybe you could have her paint one of your album covers.”

“Maybe.” Jason smiled. Angela hadn’t required much prodding at all. “She probably doesn’t have a lot of time to paint. She’s probably pretty busy with boyfriends and stuff.”

“No,” Angela said, pulled a lighter out of her coat and lit a twist of newspaper that she’d inserted in her wood sculpture. It caught, and she turned away. “She hasn’t had a boyfriend since she came back from New York. Unless she’s hiding him for some reason. She dances with about anybody who asks at the church. Finn always asks her to dance.” Frowning, she looked at the coffee table. “Is that your cellular phone? It looks like one of the new ones.”

Jason blinked. He’d been expecting her to start waxing poetic about Finn Runningwater, something he didn’t especially want to hear. “Yeah,” he said, sitting forward.

“Can I look at it?”

“Go ahead.”

Angela picked up the phone and turned it over in her hands like it might bite. “Kady has a cellphone, but she won’t let us touch it. She says we’ll break it. It’s out of service a lot because of the mountains.”

“That makes sense.” Settled back in his chair again, he said, “You’re older than Kady and Cori, aren’t you?”

“Way older. I graduated high school before they were even freshmen. But there’s nobody from my class left in town. They all went to college or joined the army. Except Mike Bittner, he’s in the Navy. And Oz Coontz up the holler. Oz is a little slow.”

Maybe Angela was a little slow, too. She didn’t seem stupid, just a bit behind the learning curve socially. The phone rang in her hand, and she jumped, dropping it. She went pale. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it.”

He reached forward and scooped it off the floor. Brian. “I got it. No harm done. Just a call.”

“I better check dinner.” Angela rushed into the kitchen.

Jason answered the call.

“Hey, what’s up?” Brian said.

“I’m having dinner with somebody.”

“Cassandra Geoffrey?”

“No. Somebody else.”

Brian snickered. “I thought you’d matured.”

Jason left that hang for a moment. There wasn’t any reason for Brian to not think he was on the trail of another willing female. Except that for the past two years Jason hadn’t managed to summon up even passing interest in any of the hordes of willing females he encountered on a daily basis. Angela started setting the table with paper plates and plastic utensils as if he’d supplied fine china and silver. “Was there a reason you called?” he asked Brian.