She shook her head to clear her thoughts and eased out of the Cherokee. A long soak in the hot tub would do her wonders. Once she’d relaxed, she could think this through. Weigh risks and analyze potential outcomes.
Cassie trudged up the steps to her back door, reached for the handle, and groaned. Damn. She’d put the chain lock on inside. Muttering to herself, she hit the garage door opener, raced out beneath it as the heavy metal lowered, and made for the front porch.
When she set her foot on the steps, the toe of her heel nearly crushed a perfectly formed red rosebud. Bewildered, she bent over and picked up the flower. Dangling from the long stem, a note fluttered in the breeze.
She unfolded the paper, her heart tripping. Only one person could possibly have left her flowers. And he would have had to have done so before he arrived at the office.
She scanned Brad’s neat handwriting, and her heart lodged in her throat. The vision that burst through her mind sent immediate heat rushing through her limbs. Kneeling on the bed as she had the night before. Unable to see his intentions, subjected to whatever he wished, experiencing his desires only by touch.
Oh.
As a ragged breath escaped, her knees wobbled. God, he was killing her. Bit by bit he tapped into her innermost fantasies and promised to fulfill them. And she didn’t even have to say a word…he innately knew.
The sudden brittle ring of her phone sliced through her hazy thoughts. She fished in her purse, withdrew her cell, and answered without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?”
Oh good grief, she so didn’t want to talk to Chris’s oldest brother right now. It just seemed…inappropriate. “I’m good, Clinton. Getting ready to tackle a mountain of work.”
“Well, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to check in. You ready for the weather tonight? It’s going to be bad. But that’s Colorado for you. Always snowing somewhere. Guess the tourists—”
Weather? Cassie frowned as she unlocked her front door. “What weather?” she asked, cutting off his rambling diatribe. He was kind, but sometimes he really didn’t know when to stop talking.
“We’re s’posed to get some heavy ice, more snow. They’ve already shut down the public schools for tomorrow. You’d think when they left ‘em open for twelve forecasted inches, eight wouldn’t close them. I guess it’s the ice. Anyway, I stopped by today to check on your generator. I need to replace an intake hose—looks like it’s rotted.”
Good old Clinton—even if he had caught her at an awkward personal moment, he was forever taking care of her. Tending to things she never even thought about. She couldn’t help but smile. “That wouldn’t surprise me. I don’t think we used the thing save for that first winter here.”
“You gonna be around this evening? If not, could you leave a key in the garage? I need to get down to your box and cut the breaker to give it a test run.”
“Oh, yeah.” Cassie tossed her keys on the front table, dropped the rose in the vase with the previous night’s flower, then meandered to the kitchen for some water before they shriveled. “I’ll be here. Locked in the office and buried in work, but I’ll be here.”
“I figured you would be, but I thought I’d ask.”
She grimaced. If that wasn’t proof she needed to get back into the swing of living, she didn’t know what was. Clinton actually expected her to be home. Shoot, the fact he was still maintaining stuff around the house evidenced her virtual seclusion. Sighing, she leaned on the garage entrance. “I’ll be here. Stop by whenever.”
“Okie dokie, kiddo. I’ve got to do a final walkthrough with some new buyers tonight. I’ll drop by after.”
“Sure thing, Clinton.” Joy. So much for doing some case-law research and calling it an early night. She’d have to put the hot tub off. When Clinton finished with his tinkering, he’d likely keep her talking for a good couple of hours. Before he arrived, she wanted to have everything ready for tomorrow, so she could call it a night.
…
Brad tossed a file folder aside and frowned. Buried in between his notes on the Cooper case was Cassie’s client folder. He must have accidentally scooped it up when he left the office. And she’d be pissed as hell, likely, to discover he had it.