6
“YOU HAVEN’T CALLED,” Pete said in a congenial voice. “Even though I know you had some…car trouble before you left. Why didn’t you call, Cassie?”
Very aware that Tag stood less than a foot away, still as gloriously naked as was she, Cassie didn’t say a word. Pete’s voice gave her goose bumps, as did his casual reference to how he’d slashed her tires.
“We’re friends,” he went on. “Friends, Cassie. And we’re so much more than that, too. Did you know I haven’t come to find you, not because I couldn’t, but because I wanted you to come find me?”
His words disturbed her, made her feel sick. She’d liked this man, had let him into her life, and that her instincts had been so far off, so wrong, cut deeply.
“We belong together, you know this,” Pete said in her ear. “We were meant to be. I’m going to make it happen.”
Her skin crawled. “No—”
“Yes.” His voice hardened. “You can’t treat me this way, Cassie, vanishing from my world like this. It’s not okay. Friends don’t do that to one another.”
“Friends.” Suddenly she felt cold, so very cold, and she grabbed for something to cover herself. That it happened to be Tag’s T-shirt didn’t stop her; she shoved it over her wet head and body, then wrapped her free arm around herself. “Funny you use that word. I don’t have any.”
“Cassie.” His voice was low now, conciliatory, quick to soothe. “Just tell me where you are, I can make it all up to you.”
He was insane. And she hadn’t seen it until it had been almost too late. “Don’t call me again, Pete.” She clicked off, tossed the phone down by her sandals, and stared off into the night, telling herself he still had no idea where she was or he’d have come for her by now.
Tag came up beside her. He was still looking at her with his sharp, probing gaze, still naked and apparently unconcerned about that fact. She knew male models, tons of them, and had never seen a man so comfortable in his own skin. He was beautiful, and the way he looked at her…in another place and time she might have been tempted to let herself weaken for him.
Who was she fooling? She had weakened for him, had very nearly trusted him with anything he wanted to do. Good God, what was wrong with her? He was a sheriff, of all things, a man with authority and power over her if he so chose, and more than that, he was his father’s son. No doubt Sheriff Sean Taggart couldn’t be trusted any more than Richard could be, and yet she’d nearly…
He pulled his jeans over his still-wet body but didn’t fasten them. He looked like a Greek god standing there next to her, staring out into the night.
Until he turned to look at her. Those eyes of his weren’t a god’s. They were a cop’s. “Pete.”
“Yes.”
“Another threat?”
“He’s upset because he can’t find me.”
“Well, thank God for small favors.” When she didn’t answer, he sighed, put his hands on her and pulled her close. That her body wanted to be even closer felt like a betrayal. “You’re not going to ask me for help,” he guessed.
“No.”
“Then I’m going to ask you.” He shook her lightly until she locked gazes with him. “Let me help you, Cassie. Please. Let me do this for you.”
“I don’t need—”
“No, you don’t want.” His hands slid up her arms, cupped her face. “You’re independent, I get that. You’re proud. I get that, too. But you’re not stupid. You need help. We’re friends, if nothing else, and—”
“Oh, no.” She let out a short mirthless laugh and backed up. “Not you, too.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What, is the word friend a trigger word for you?”
“I’ll admit, we’re…almost lovers. Sparring partners, maybe. But not friends.” When he stepped close again, she took a shaky breath because her heart suddenly and inexplicably hurt. “We’re not. We’ll never be that.”
She saw surprise flash across his features and, damn it, hurt, too, but that wouldn’t stop her. It was a dog-eat-dog world and she had to stay on top. “A man can’t be a woman’s friend, not—”
“That’s bullshit.”
“—when—” she continued coolly while shaking like a leaf inside. “Not when all he wants is sex.”
He stopped cold, stared at her. She could see the shock in his eyes. Then he pulled away, turned his back.
Oh, yeah, she’d hit the mark that time. He felt guilty as hell, and that should have been tremendously satisfying. But the victory felt hollow.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s nothing personal.”
“Like hell.” But he merely slid his hands into his pockets. “You came back here to Pleasantville to hide. That’s fact. You came here even with bitter childhood memories because you knew one thing…you knew you’d be safe.”
“You don’t know a single truth about my past.”
“I would if you told me.”
She wasn’t going to tell him anything.
“Fine,” he said angrily. “I’ll have to guess then, and you have no one to blame but yourself if I’m wrong.”
“You’ve already heard what I was like.”
“I have.” He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes dark and intense. “But as I’ve already told you, I think the truth is radically different.”
He didn’t believe the gossip. So what did he believe?
“You were right to come here.” He still looked toward the lake. “You’ll be safe. You’ll come to the station and let someone know if you feel Pete has managed to track you.”
“Yes,” she told his sleek, still-wet back. The back she’d wanted to touch, wanted to put her mouth to.
She’d tell him anything if he’d go away and leave her be, with her burning eyes and burning throat. “I’ll come to the station if I need help.”
With one short nod, he bent, scooped up her towel and tossed it to her. He looked at her for a long, long moment, then his lips curved slowly. Solemnly. “Be careful, Cassie.”
And then she was alone. Just as she’d wanted.
* * *
WELL, HELL, Tag thought, stretching out in the hammock in his vast front yard, studying the stars. He’d certainly learned a few things about himself at the lake tonight, hadn’t he. And none of it was anything to be particularly proud of.
First, he’d apparently proven to Cassie that all men were scum. Every one of them. Not that she hadn’t apparently already formed that opinion, but he’d definitely enforced it.
What had come over him? Lust, he admitted. A red haze of lust.
She was being stalked for crissake, and what had he done? He’d stripped down to his birthday suit like a hopeful high school kid and dove into that water without a single thought.
Oh, yeah, he deserved her disdain, every ounce of it. But she hadn’t deserved his momentary lapse in judgment.
Well, he could fix that much at least. On his way back from the lake he’d gone to the station and done what he could for her, not that she’d appreciate it. He’d arranged for drive-bys at her house. He’d alerted his deputies to the possibility of trouble. And he’d put in a request for a copy of the original report and the restraining order.
She wouldn’t thank him, he knew that, but at least he had his head on straight now and wouldn’t be distracted from what he had to do.
He wouldn’t. No matter how glorious she looked nude, swimming like a mermaid beneath the stars, her satiny skin glistening like a feast as she frolicked unselfconsciously. Her body—a mind-blowing study in curves and feminine delights—was perfection, and he’d seen every bit of it tonight. Rock-hard mauve nipples made for sucking. Rounded hips begging for his hands to grip tight. Long, tanned legs, and the treasure in between that had made his mouth water with hunger.
Just the thought could bring him to his knees, so he stopped thinking.
But he didn’t stop dreaming, not that night, and not the next.
He did, however, a few days later, take his weekly phone call from his father, something he would have gladly skipped if he’d only put in Caller ID as he kept meaning to.
“You feeling better?” Tag asked him, knowing his father had been suffering from rheumatory arthritis, and knowing the man would never admit it.
“I’ll live, unfortunately. You keeping the streets clean of stupidity, son?”
Tag let out a silent sigh and rubbed his temples. “What do you think?”
“I think I shouldn’t have retired. Heard Cassie Tremaine Montgomery is back in town. The slut.”
Tag went utterly still. “She left here right after high school. What was she, maybe seventeen? Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”
“What do you know about it? You were at college when she left. Trust me. Keep your eye on her.”
That didn’t seem to be a problem. What was a problem was the fact that he wanted to keep more than his eyes on her. He wanted his hands, his mouth and his body on her, as well.
“What’s happening at work?” his father asked.
“The usual,” Tag said. “Just a D.U.I. at the moment.”
“Any ongoing cases?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Sure?”
Tag counted to ten. “Positive.”
“Okay, then. I’ve got to go.”
“Sure. But in case you were wondering, I’m fine.”
“I know you’re fine. If you weren’t I’d hear about it. It’s work I want to know about. You’d best be doing a good job, upholding our family name.”
Or what? Tag wondered wearily. He’d swing his authority around like a belt? He rubbed his temples. “I’ll talk to you next week.”
“You haven’t been out to see me.”
Tag hadn’t, that was true. He hadn’t been able to take the hour or so of verbal abuse he’d no doubt have to sit through before being dismissed like a worthless underling.
He bit his tongue on the harsh words he wanted to say. He wouldn’t act like his father. “I’ve got to go, Dad.” Hanging up the phone, he gave in to a brief moment of self-hatred for not telling his father to just go to hell.
Pretty pathetic. Thirty-two years old and he still had a deep desire to have a picture-perfect family life with warm, loving people around him.
Or one loving person. The one he hadn’t found yet—his fantasy wife. The thought made him huff out a mirthless laugh because he was no closer to finding her than he was to really living in Mayberry, U.S.A.
* * *
KATE ARRIVED, and Cassie had to admit she’d never been happier to see anyone in her entire life. Her cousin hadn’t changed at all; she was still the voice of calm reason to Cassie’s wild heart.
Physically, they were opposites as well, and Cassie had always admired Kate’s long, thick dark hair, her perfect heart face, her sweet smile. Although she hated people thinking so, Kate was sweet everything, and being around her calmed Cassie’s restless soul in a way few others could.
On Kate’s first night back in Pleasantville they stayed up late, sitting on the floor of the nearly ready Bare Essentials, gorging on pizza and M&M’s, going over the plans for their grand opening.
Maybe it was the bottle of wine they shared, or maybe it was simply the sheer delight of seeing each other after too long an absence, but they laughed and talked and listened to music until well past midnight.
Cassie had to give her cousin credit. Kate let Cassie keep the conversation safe. Meaning they talked about Kate. Bare Essentials. And gossiped happily about the people in Pleasantville.
Then the clock struck one and Kate’s smile faded as she studied Cassie. “You know I love you, right?”
Ah, hell. “Yep.” In case Kate wanted to talk serious, she cranked up the radio to ear-splitting level.
Kate simply lifted that superior brow Cassie was certain had intimidated hundreds of others. “You could tell me anything,” she yelled over the music. “You know that.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah.” Kate put her hand around her mouth and shouted, “So fine you have purple bruises beneath your eyes.” She flicked the radio off. “Delicate ones, of course, because you’re the only woman I know who could skip makeup and eat junk food for a week and still look amazing. But I know you, Cassie.” She softened her voice and reached for her hand. “Whether you like it or not, I know you’re not okay.”
“Kate—”
“You haven’t asked for your mail.” She reached into her purse and came up with a handful of letters. All addressed to her. All from Pete. “You should be giving these to the local authorities.”
“The authorities here know about him.” Deciding she was done with this conversation, Cassie stood and stretched, and caught sight of a car pulling up out front.
Not just any car, but a police squad car. Damn it.
She tucked Pete’s letters into her purse and turned with her hands on her hips as one tall, dark and sinfully fine-looking Sheriff Sean Taggart entered the building with a casual nonchalance that made her every hormone stand up and quiver.
Take what you can, honey, and spit the rest back out. Cassie thought about what Flo would say and had to admit there wasn’t much to spit back out when it came to Tag.
Not exactly a comfort.
“Fancy you showing up out here,” she drawled slowly though her heart had started racing at just the sight of him. She hadn’t seen him since that night at the lake when he’d stripped down and showed her he was one pretty remarkable male specimen. When she’d accused him of only wanting sex. When she’d nearly succumbed to temptation and let herself lean on someone. Him.
Kate’s head was swiveling as she looked back and forth between the two of them. “I take it you two know each other.”
Tag just stared at Cassie, and she sighed. “Kate, meet Sheriff Sean Taggart. The man who single-handedly tripled my car insurance rates.”
“Well, then.” Kate smiled and held out her hand. “Nice to meet the rare person who can get the best of my cousin.” When Tag nodded, then looked back at Cassie, unmistakable trouble in his gaze, Kate grabbed her purse. “Oka-a-ay. I’m thinking now is a good time to get some shut-eye.”
“Kate—”
“I have a feeling you’re in good hands,” she whispered, then hugged Cassie tight before she vanished.
“You scared her off,” Cassie accused.
“If she’s related to you, she’s no more scared of me than she would be of a kitten,” Tag said evenly.
“Why are you here?”
“Because of the five complaints logged about the volume of your music.”
“I turned it down.” She turned her back. “I’ll behave now. You can go.”
“I’ll just wait while you lock up.”
“Oh, I’m not leaving yet.” She bent to stroke Miss Priss. “I have some stock to go through, and—” She squeaked in surprise when he whipped her around to face him.
“Damn it to hell,” he muttered, staring down into her face.
“Damn what to hell?” she asked, pure frost in her voice.
Her shoulders were stiff in Tag’s hands, but it had just come to him. The problem he’d been stumbling over since she’d strode into town.
Yeah, he wanted her, just as she’d accused. But he also…liked her. More than that, he wanted her to trust him.
She didn’t, not even close, but she would. He was suddenly quite determined about that.
“You know what I think?” he asked her softly. “I think your kick-ass demeanor, as well as the job that’s made you so famous, is all a front.”
She stared at him as if he was crazy. “What?”
“Beneath all that wild sensuality and come-hither smile designed to make grown men beg, you’re all talk.”
“Excuse me?”
“You just stroked the cat. I saw you.”
“So?”
“So you claim to hate that cat. You claim to hate this town, and yet here you still are. Oh, yeah, I’m on to something all right. You’re not nearly as untamed and uncaring as you want people to believe, not even close.” Sure of himself, he smiled. “In fact, you’re just one great big fraud.”
She let out a disbelieving laugh. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m as out there as they come, just ask anyone.”
“Not buying it. You’re all talk, Cassie Tremaine Montgomery. All talk.”
“You think so?” She grabbed a box off a shelf, tossed it to the floor, then kneeled down to riffle through it. “I’ll show you talk.” She lifted a set of handcuffs. “I have a set of these in my bedroom. Waiting for the right evening, the right lover.”
He nearly swallowed his tongue, and instead lifted a shoulder. “So what? I have a pair on me all day long.”
A sound of frustration passed her kissable lips as she tossed the handcuffs over her shoulder and pawed through the box again. With a cry of triumph, she help up a small plastic package holding…
He gulped hard.
“A * ring,” she said. “I have one of these, too.”
“Are…you wearing it now?”
Her triumph faded, and with a growl she tossed it over her shoulder to fall next to the discarded handcuffs, leaving him to give a silent thanks because he doubted he could have handled remaining so calm, cool and collected if she’d showed him a * ring.
On her *.
Just the thought made him break a sweat.
Cassie dove back into the box, and this time came up with a small white leather pack and a smile that went right to his crotch.
Lord help him, he’d opened Pandora’s box.
“Know what this is?” she asked in a sultry voice. “A portable vibrator. For the woman on the go. It fits into a pocket or small purse.”
Oh, man. He leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms and forced himself to yawn. She would not goad him into a physical relationship, not when she still believed he wanted her only for sex. Nope. He wouldn’t touch her.
At his feigned boredom, she sputtered. “You think I wouldn’t use this to make myself come?”
He just lifted a brow.
Still on her knees, she shot him a look of pure daring, which in truth started his heart pumping, even before she lifted her denim skirt, revealing a tiny patch of red satin masquerading as panties. Pulling out the small white vibrator, she turned it on, smiled the very smile of the devil, and ran it over her thigh before settling it directly between her legs.
“Mmm,” she whispered, letting her head fall back on her shoulders. Her eyes closed as she slowly moved the vibrator up and down and back again.
Her breath came quicker, and so did his. “Cassie—”
“Shh.” Her hips started pumping in tune to her hand.
His own hands fisted.
“God. This is so much better than a fumbling man.”
He’d show her fumbling.
“Oh, yeah…” The vibrator hummed. Her hand moved faster.
She moaned softly.
Up and down.
The red satin became wet, he could see it.
And Tag nearly sank to the floor. “Cassie—”
Her mouth fell open, her tongue came out and wet her lips. Her breath caught and she went still, so utterly still…then shuddered as she let out a little helpless cry, lost in her own pleasure.
Tag didn’t move a muscle, he couldn’t.
After a moment she opened sleepy, sated eyes and smiled. “Definitely much better than a man.” With a click she turned off the vibrator and let her skirt fall back down.
Before she could riffle through the box again, his brain started functioning, barely, and he came forward. “Uncle,” he said hoarsely, hauling her to her feet. “I get it. You’re not all talk. And you’re killing me. Lock up, you’re going home.”
“I suppose you think you’re going to tuck me in and sing me a lullaby.”
“No. You’re going home alone.”
“Suit yourself.”
No mistaking her anger that he hadn’t fallen at her feet in a boneless mass of need, but no one had ever wanted her for anything besides sex, and he refused to fit into the same mold as all the other a*sholes in her life.
“Got your keys?” he asked calmly, as if he couldn’t have hammered steel with his raging erection.
She pocketed the vibrator and shot him a long look, definitely noticing the problem behind his zipper. “I have my keys.” She patted the vibrator. “In fact, I have everything I need, thank you very much.”
Fine. She was pissed at him, nothing new. But it was satisfying, despite the burning need of his body, to see the shock in her eyes that he wasn’t going to try to get into her very wet panties.
And he would hold firm. At least for tonight.