GOOD WITH HIS HANDS

LORI FOSTER

Contents:

1 2 3 4 5 6

One

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Pete Watson smiled as he watched Cassidy McClannahan get out of her spotlessly clean white Ford Contour. It was a familiar thing, smiling at the sight of Cassidy. Which meant he smiled a lot these days, because he saw her every day, everywhere he went. They worked together at the Sports Therapy Center and they lived in adjoining condos, thanks to the fact that Cassidy told him when one of the units became available. They left at the same time in the morning, came home at the same time each day.

It was nice. Routine. As predictable as being married—but without the chain chafing around his neck.

And no sex.

But hey, that kept it simple and easy. Besides, he could probably have sex with Cassidy if he wanted. But he didn't. Not really.

Not bad, anyway.

The spring breeze played havoc with her super-long, too-curly brown hair, whipping it into her face until, in disgust, she dropped her grocery bag and grabbed the mass with both hands.

She was such a contradiction, so much a woman in some ways, so oblivious to her own femininity in others.

Sidling up next to her, Pete said, "You should have put it in a ponytail."

"Bite me."

He laughed. Her reaction to him fell into the oblivious category. She treated him like an asexual pal. Joking with him, putting him down sometimes. And she never, ever primped or prettied up for him. Nope, Cassidy didn't want him. Still, he could get her if he wanted to.

He just didn't want to.

Scooping up her bag, which weighed a damn ton, Pete said, "Come on, Rapunzel. I'll help you inside."

She eyed his bulging biceps as if she didn't see them every day at work. But it wasn't a look of admiration, just one of observation—the same sort of look she always gave him. Unaffected. Nonsexual.

Finally she looked away, saying, "Don't strain anything."

Yeah, right. She knew better than most that he was in great shape. "What the hell did you buy, anyway?" Part of their routine for Friday was stopping at the grocery store. Since their eating habits were like night and day, they separated in the store, but met up again in the parking lot. He'd only bought enough lunchmeat and bread to last him through the week, but it felt like Cassidy had bought bricks.

While she rolled up her driver's-side window and locked her car door, she ticked off her purchases. "Baking potatoes, steak, corn on the cob, and a six-pack of pop."

"Got a big night planned?" Pete knew she didn't. Cassidy almost never dated. In fact, he couldn't remember ever seeing her date. That made him stop and think.

"Not really."

Well. That was pretty damn vague. Frowning, Pete waited to see if she'd invite him to join her. But she didn't. She never took the initiative. If he asked, she'd smile and tell him what time to show up. But why the hell did he always have to ask? Couldn't she just once extend the invitation? Another contradiction. They always enjoyed each other's company, but she never deliberately sought him out.

He loped beside her as they went up the tidy walkway to her front stoop, which was right next door to his, a mere fifteen feet away.

Assuming he'd follow, she unlocked her door, pushed it open and strolled inside, kicking her sneakers off the moment she got in. Out of the wind, she released her long hair and Pete watched as it tumbled free down to the small of her back, swishing above her plump ass.

Pete shook his head. She stayed in great shape, was always clean and well dressed, but she paid zero attention to feminine details like her hair and nails. She didn't wear makeup or perfume—not that she needed to. She always smelled great, even when sweaty. And she had a healthy, robust complexion.

Robust? Yeah, that's how normal men should think of women. Half disgusted, half embarrassed, Pete shook his head at his odd musings.

He'd asked Cassidy once about her long hair and found out she only washed and dried it. No curlers, no trims, no highlights. He'd never known a woman who didn't spend hours on her hair. When it got humid outside, her hair drew into long, bouncy ringlets that looked adorable.

Like Cassidy, her place was clean and comfortable but not overly decorated. It overflowed with plants and posters and throw pillows. By rote, Pete trailed her into the kitchen.

"You want some coffee or something?" She didn't wait for him to reply, but began filling the carafe, proving how predictable he'd become. He should politely decline and head home, maybe throw her off a bit. But he didn't.

"I can take one cup." Pete set their groceries on the counter, pulled out a kitchen chair and sat.

With the coffee preparations complete, Cassidy set out mugs and sugar before turning away. "Be right back."

"Where're you going?"

"To change. It's warm tonight."

She disappeared around the corner into the hall leading to her bedroom. Pete knew the setup of her condo because it was the mirror image of his. Where his bedroom ran to the left of the front door, hers ran to the right. He'd never been in her bedroom, though—and she'd never been in his.

Today she'd worn loose navy blue athletic pants and sneakers with the red unisex polo shirt supplied to all employees at the Sports Therapy Center.

Pete tilted his chair onto the back legs. It dawned on him that he'd known Cassidy about eleven months now. Not that he was counting or anything, but maintaining a close platonic relationship with a woman other than his sisters-in-law for almost a year had to be some sort of personal record. Usually if he knew a woman any length of time at all, he either dated her or was merely acquainted, not friendly.

The thing he'd first noticed about Cassidy—after that abundance of super-soft, crimped hair—was her focus. They'd spoken for about an hour his first day on the job, and in that time he realized that she had it together more than anyone he knew. If you asked Cassidy where she wanted to be five years from now, she could tell you. She knew where she wanted to work, where she wanted to live. She even claimed to know the type of guy she wanted to marry one day.

In comparison, Pete didn't even know where he wanted to be next week. Not that he intended to leave his job, his home, or Cassidy's friendship. But after finishing school and working three different jobs before settling at the sports center, he often felt unsettled, as if he were somehow missing the big picture.

Not Cassidy. She set new goals daily and worked hard to reach them. Maybe that's why she didn't date—she was too busy meeting her goals. Pete frowned in thought, trying to remember if any of their male clients had ever hit on her.

No one specific came to mind, but then everyone, young and old, male and female, loved Cassidy. She laughed a lot—honest laughter, not the trumped-up, polite kind. She also had nice eyes. Sort of a wishy-washy blue-green that managed to be awesomely direct. Honest, like her laugh.

She was built well enough, of course. On the short side. A little too muscular, given all the time she spent being physical on the job, but trim and fit. She had a body guys would notice…

And why the hell was he dwelling on her body, anyway?

Pete stood up and went to her patio doors. With his hands stuck in his back pockets, palms out, he contemplated the darkening sky. Looked like another spring storm on the way. Trees swayed under the wind. Heavy gray clouds raced by. He slid the glass door open so the fragrant, moist air could come in through the screen, wafting around him, stirring his senses.

Now that he'd thought of Cassidy's bod, he couldn't stop thinking of it. And that was strange, because he preferred his ladies on the prissy side. He enjoyed watching a woman fuss with her hair, fret about her nails, and reapply her lipstick. It was so intrinsically female.

Dawn, the woman he'd most recently stopped dating, had done a lot of fussing. She was a corporate exec, smart, lots of ambition, and sexy as hell in a power suit. It had teased Pete, the way she'd pair a short, snug skirt, high heels, and red lipstick with a business jacket that begged to be unbuttoned. The attire emphasized rather than diminished her femaleness. Her glasses were a bonus. The way she pulled them off whenever she meant to get intimate had really turned him on.

"Coffee's done."

Speaking of turned on… Pete watched as Cassidy strode back into the room. No business suits, heels, or glasses for her, but unlike Dawn, Cassidy never bored him.

Her hair was pulled up into a high, sloppy knot, haphazardly clipped into place. Long, twining hanks of hair fell loose to her shoulders, around her small ears. She'd changed into a football jersey and cutoffs. A really big jersey—and really short shorts.

Being male, and healthy, and for some reason kind of horny on this almost-rainy, quiet Friday, Pete automatically gave her the once-over. Maybe there'd be a full moon tonight, or maybe the tide was high. Something, some unknown force, was making him contemplate Cassidy naked. Eyes narrowed and mouth pursed, he watched as she filled the mugs with coffee. He'd seen her in everything from sweats to bike shorts, so he knew she had lots of soft, squeezable curves to go with the muscles.

As if she felt his gaze, Cassidy looked over her shoulder, caught him staring at her butt, and looked away again. She didn't care that he was looking. She didn't care if he didn't look.

Damn abnormal woman.

Driven by some inner perversity heretofore undeveloped, Pete leaned back against the doorframe and smiled. "Your ass looks nice in those shorts."

A slight pause, then: "Thanks. You want a cookie with your coffee?"

His jaw locked. Thanks? That was it? No more reaction than that? Pete folded his arms over his chest. "How about I take your ass with my coffee?"

She threw a cookie at him, then dropped that delectable behind into a chair at the table with a hearty sigh. Using her toes, she snagged the chair opposite her and pulled it out enough so she could prop up her feet. "I'm so glad it's the weekend. Thanks to that tank of a guy with low back pain, I'm beat."

All week, Cassidy had worked with the man, who tipped the scales at three-fifty, on controlled, repetitive movement rehabilitation, teaching him safe movement through progression and complex exercises. That had been on top of her regulars who came in each day to work on running faster, farther. She'd been busy, no doubt about it.

Pete took his own seat. "I had an easier week. A bunch of junior high school boys working on sports conditioning. It was fun."

"You're good with kids." She sipped her coffee. "You should work with them more."

"Thanks. You know, I used to think about being a gym teacher." Before his father passed away and his brother took over the family business and everything went sideways, including all their lives. He'd gotten off track then and hadn't found his way back yet.

Cassidy nodded thoughtfully. "I can see that. You're close to having the right credits, right? It wouldn't take much to become a teacher, then you could—"

"Whoa. I didn't say I was going to do it. Just that I used to think about it."

"So what do you want to do? Work at the sports center the rest of your life?"

"I don't know." Damn it, why did she have to press him? "I'm happy there for now, so there's no rush."

Cassidy leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "I envy you the ability to keep thinking things through. It seems like I made up my mind in my teens and I've been on the same road ever since."

"You want to own a sports center someday, right?"

"A whole chain of them." With her eyes still closed, her mouth curled in a self-deprecating smile. "I've had my entire life pictured in my mind forever. First, I'd graduate with honors—"

"Which you did."

"—then learn my trade."

"Working at the sports center."

"Yeah." She shrugged. "And sometime before I got too old, I'd marry a professional man. Some guy in a suit, like Ward Cleaver." Her eyes opened. "You remember that show? Leave It to Beaver? Ward was always in a suit and June was always in a dress and their kids were polite, their house spotless. It seemed like the ideal setup to me. Only I don't want to wear a dress. I want to run a business in my sweats."

Used to her honesty, Pete toasted her with his coffee cup. "You look great in sweats."

"Thanks. They suit me. You know, because I'm into comfort and all that."

"I noticed." Boy, had he noticed. Especially today. She was relaxed and easy to be with, totally natural. Very appealing.

"It makes my little sister crazy. She hates to be seen in public with me."

"No way."

Wearing a sideways grin, Cassidy admitted, "She considers me a fashion disaster. But then, you'd have to meet my sis to understand. She's always perfectly groomed, manicured, and stylish." Eyes averted, she added, "Sort of like the women you date."

That had Pete frowning. It made him sound very superficial. "So you want a guy in a suit, huh?" Since he never got within ten feet of a suit, he didn't much care for that inclination, either.

Cassidy propped her chin against her hand and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. As if picturing it in her mind, she said, "Tall, dark, and handsome, the kind of guy who looks great at black-tie events. Very serious. Dedicated to his job and his family."

Yep, she had that all planned out, too. Pete sank lower in his seat.

Her gaze met his, her eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter. "My dad is five-ten, fair, and balding, but he's got the other qualities. When I was a little girl, I'd put on his suit coat and imagine how big a man had to be to fill it out—not just physically, but intellectually and emotionally. Dad worked long hours, then got home and rolled up his shirtsleeves to help Mom with dinner. And after dinner, he'd sit at the dining room table with my sister and me and help with our homework." She laughed at herself. "My dad is great. Mom, too."

"And your sister?"

"Holly is a charmer. Beautiful enough so things come easily to her. Especially guys."

As usual, the conversation flowed between them. Pete had never realized the significance of that before, but he was as comfortable with Cassidy as he was with his brothers and his best friends—who were all male. Huh. "Speaking of family, did I tell you Ariel is pregnant? Sam is beside himself."

Cassidy's coffee cup clicked against the tabletop as she plunked it down and leaned forward. "Sam, your oldest brother, the bad-ass cop, the scary dude who likes to put himself in the line of fire, is going to be a daddy?"

"Yeah, how about that?" Cassidy hadn't met Sam yet, but she had met their middle brother, Gil, when he was dropping off his daughters for Pete to baby-sit. Sometimes Cassidy even helped out with that. Nicki, now seven years old, adored Cassidy, as did her two-year-old sister, Rachael. "I think our nieces softened him up."

"I wouldn't be surprised. Those little angels could soften up anyone."

She looked all gentle and sweet when she said that. Someday she'd make a good mom—whoa! Pete snuffed that thought out with ruthless precision. No way in hell was he going to start thinking that way. It was one thing to picture Cassidy naked, especially since he couldn't seem to help himself. He would not think of her with a kid on her hip. Therein lay trouble—as Sam had discovered.

Pete cleared his throat and concentrated on his coffee cup. "They've been married five years now and Ariel said she's ready to be a mother. She told Sam he could either be the father or not, but one way or another she was getting pregnant."

Cassidy nearly choked on her coffee. "She gave him an ultimatum?"

"I think she just hid the condoms and then got naked. Didn't take any more than that to get Sam's cooperation."

Her throaty laughter seemed to wrap around Pete, mingling with the warm, moist air, further confounding him. He pushed his chair back in a rush. "I gotta run."

Cassidy picked up another cookie. "All right. See ya later."

She didn't change her relaxed posture or even look particularly curious as to why he was rushing off. Pete snatched up his grocery bag, started out, and then heard himself say, "I'm watching a movie later if you want to come over."

"You're not going out with Dawn?"

He and Dawn had parted company three days ago when she wanted him to leave the sports center in the middle of the day to meet her for lunch. While he appreciated the enthusiasm she gave to her job, she treated his job as nothing. Shaking his head at the memories, Pete said, "That's over."

Cassidy took another sip of her coffee before shrugging and saying, "I'll let you know."

Eyes narrowed, Pete stared at her while the perils of masculine ego shoved his temper up a few notches. When he got her naked and under him, she wouldn't be so cavalier…

His eyes widened and his back snapped straight. Damn it, there he went again, thinking things he shouldn't. Best to make a run for it now before he did something stupid, like jump her bones. He pivoted on his heel and stalked out. It took all his control not to slam her front door.

He would not start pining after Cassidy McClannahan. Okay, so despite her comfortable-as-an-old-shoe appearance, her femininity beamed through. It didn't matter. If he wanted a woman, he'd make a phone call and—Pete snapped his fingers—he'd have a woman.

But once in his condo, Pete put away his groceries, stripped down to his boxers, and slouched in front of the TV to watch ESPN while guzzling an icy cold Coke and munching salty chips. He didn't touch the phone. But he did zone out on the latest sport clips while his mind danced around the idea of Cassidy McClannahan stripped naked, that long hair trailing over her shoulders and breasts; Cassidy with her eyes warm and inviting instead of indifferent; Cassidy as a sexual conquest, begging for more…

Before long, Pete was caught up in a full-fledged fantasy with predictable results.

He did need a woman, damn it. But he only wanted one. And she didn't seem at all interested.

* * *

Cassidy resisted the urge to head to Pete's. Little by little, their friendship drove her insane with sexual frustration. Against all common sense and her own responsible nature, she wanted the knucklehead. Hell, she'd wanted him almost from jump.

At first, it had been his mouthwatering appearance that had grabbed and held her attention. Tall, dark, and most definitely handsome. But not a suit in sight. Not that it mattered. Her thinking had done a one-eighty the day Pete Watson got hired on at the sports center.

For most of her life, Cassidy had bought into the idea of an intellectual, suit-wearing, serious-thinking guy with advancement on his mind as the perfect male. Pete was none of those things, but oh, he was so perfect.

Tall and trim, long-boned with rangy muscles, inky black hair, and dark bedroom eyes that ate a woman's soul. Outside of work, you were more likely to find Pete in jeans than dress pants. A few times, she'd even caught him in his boxers. And wow, what that man did for underwear should be illegal.

He was so sexy, there was no way on earth he couldn't know it. But amazingly enough, Pete didn't play up his sex appeal. Instead, he laughed and joked and befriended everyone. He didn't seem overly keen on advancing, but then his family owned a private novelty business and Pete got regular deposits from the profits, so he wasn't exactly hurting for cash. Pete was one of those guys who had plenty of time to find himself, because he didn't need to settle down to survive.

So here he was, well-to-do, gorgeous, and still so darn nice. He respected people, their accomplishments and their limitations, which made him easy to be around, easier to like.

Pride and intelligence, her two most noticeable fortes, told her Pete wasn't a guy to fall for, not with his carefree, live-for-the-moment attitude. It had been pure idiocy on her part to tell him about the condo for sale next door to her. Dumb, dumb. He'd moved in a few months ago and now they had this ultrafamiliar relationship that kept them in constant but platonic contact. It was maddening.

They were such good friends that he even felt at ease teasing her about her butt. Cassidy covered her face and groaned. He'd invited her over to watch a movie. He wanted to pal around.

The big dope.

Okay, so no one saw her as a sexual being. That didn't mean she was without desire. Where Pete was concerned, sex was about all she had on her mind. Sitting on the couch with him, knowing he was that close, pretending to watch television when instead she breathed in his scent and wallowed in his warmth and gradually melted … it was the act of a masochist. It was desperate and pathetic. Enough already.

She'd go to the movies by herself instead. She'd glut herself on popcorn and cola and by the time she got home, she'd have herself back in control. She'd even be able to face Pete in his boxers without drooling.

Mind made up, Cassidy snatched up her car keys and headed for the front door. She shoved her feet into her sneakers, turned the knob, jerked the door open—and ran face-first into a brick wall.

At least, it felt like a brick wall. After recoiling and almost falling, she managed another look. No wall, but close. "Duke," she said stupidly while rubbing her bruised nose, "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Since Duke was built like a cement slab and thus considered himself invincible, he grinned. "I'm fine." He reached out and brushed some of her tumbled hair from her face. "Sorry about that."

"My fault entirely."

Next to Duke's six-foot-six, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame, her younger sister, Holly, looked like a delicate, disgruntled miniature. "Cassidy, what on earth are you doing?" She eyed the keys, Cassidy's sloppy clothes, then propped her hands on her hips. "If it was any woman but you, I wouldn't ask. Most women wouldn't be seen dead wearing what you have on. But knowing you don't care how you look, and considering you have your keys in your hand, I have to ask."

Please don't, Cassidy thought.

Her sister forged on, haughty in her accusation. "You forgot that you invited us over to dinner, didn't you?"

Invited them? It was more like she'd had her arm twisted. "Umm…" Lusting after Pete had warped her brain.

"Cassidy," her sister wailed, as if the world had started to descend into hell. "You promised."

Holly was set on getting her family to worship Duke as much as she did. Because their mom and dad wanted only the best for Holly, that wasn't likely to happen. But Holly was convinced that if she got Cassidy's blessing, their parents would fall into line. Like she had that much influence? Right. Just because she was the sensible one.

It was enough to make a red-blooded female howl.

Cro-Magnon man—otherwise known as Duke—ushered both women inside. For a football player, he was gentle enough. But in Cassidy's opinion, her sister was too young to concentrate on anything other than her college studies. She should be thinking about her career, about gaining her independence before she got tied at the hip to a gargantuan sports aficionado.

"Holly, calm down," Duke said. "Maybe Cassidy just had to run an errand."

Cassidy snatched at that excuse like a lifeline. "Exactly. I forgot dessert." Thank you, Duke. "I left steaks on the counter. With it ready to rain, I figured we'd just broil them inside. Why don't you two go ahead and get everything ready while I run to the bakery?"

Holly started to protest, but Duke squeezed her into his side and smiled. "No rush, Cassidy. We'll manage till you get back."

Cassidy looked at him from under her brows. Oh, she might be sensible, but she wasn't blind. She knew that heated look as well as any woman. Duke always looked that way when he was with Holly. Well, she would rush, damn him. It didn't matter that her sister was old enough to make her own decisions on intimacy. Cassidy didn't intend to aid and abet.

She went out the door in a trot, and even with family drama to occupy her mind, she couldn't help thinking of Pete. Had he already called another woman to come over? His car was in his driveway, but his condo windows were dark.

She wouldn't succumb like so many other women. Sure, succumbing would be sublime, but far too temporary. And after all, Cassidy was the sensible one.

What a curse.

Two

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Pete couldn't take it. Somehow, Cassidy, with her contrary lack of interest, had him frothing at the mouth. He never frothed. Okay, so he'd had a few semi-serious crushes in his day, the most noticeable being toward Ariel. But that was before she became his brother's wife, even before she'd met Sam. Once she'd met him … well, everyone except Sam had noticed that Ariel was head over heels in love with him. Seeing that had cured Pete's crush real quick, and now he loved Ariel as a sister-in-law, but certainly nothing more.

Since then he'd just dated and enjoyed life and women and the fun of being single.

But there was nothing enjoyable about how he felt right now—sort of rejected and dejected and annoyed. Why didn't Cassidy want him?

Maybe he needed to clue her in, let her know he wouldn't be adverse to the idea of some cozy time in the sack. Hell, it'd be great. They were already friends. They knew each other, trusted each other, enjoyed each other … so why not enjoy each other a little bit more?

Pete pulled on a T-shirt and shorts, and barefoot, went out the back to see if Cassidy was grilling yet. He'd sniff her steaks and she'd invite him to join her and he'd move from there. He'd be casual, relaxed—he'd sneak the idea of wild sex in on her. Anticipation had him semi-hard before he discovered that she wasn't in the back.

He was hot, but her grill was still cold.

Frowning in disappointment, Pete wondered if the weather had chased her inside. The sky had turned black and static filled the air. It would start storming soon, probably throughout the night. Perfect weather for making love.

Maybe they could skip dinner and go straight to the idea of sex. Feeling like a desperate voyeur, Pete peered in through her patio doors, but didn't see her. He considered his options, raised his hand to knock—and heard a noise in her bedroom. That window was open, too, and Pete stared at it, teased with the idea of Cassidy changing clothes, maybe getting in or out of the shower… The sound of a soft, hungry, vibrating moan resonated out to him.

Pete's heart, thoughts, and breath all stuttered to a standstill. Was that a moan of … sexual pleasure? His reaction was swift and confusing: jealousy, possessiveness, and red-hot anger. He strained to hear more while everything masculine within him went on the alert.

Another moan reached him, then another, higher in pitch, each subsequent moan rising in excitement until they peaked—and Pete's hair damn near stood on end.

He felt betrayed!

She turned down a movie with him to have sex with someone else. Never mind that she didn't know he wanted to have sex with her.

Forcibly, Pete unglued his feet and stalked away in a temper, but even after he'd stepped into his own kitchen and slammed the door, the sound of her pleasure, sweet and deep, reverberated in his head, pounding against his skull.

Cassidy was involved sexually with someone—someone other than him. That sucked.

He'd only just decided that he wanted her, and he'd already lost his chance.

* * *

Dinner was a nightmare that had taken forever, but now it was over. The cake she'd bought was completely consumed, a pot of coffee polished off, and still Duke and Holly lingered.

Maybe she should have invited Pete over. She'd noticed his car still in the drive when she returned from fetching dessert. He could have served as a buffer, a guy for Conan the Barbarian to regale with football stories. For herself, Cassidy had heard enough about tackles, passes, and kicks to last a lifetime.

Pete was so good with people, he'd have found a way to steer the conversation, to keep it entertaining for one and all. He could have told more anecdotes about his cop brother, Sam, or his niece, Nicole. He could have discussed sport-induced injuries with Duke. He could have just been there, smiling and making everyone else smile.

Cassidy didn't realize that Duke had finished his story until she caught him grinning at her. Good grief, how long had she been sitting there with that stupid look on her face while she daydreamed about Pete?

With far too much perception, Duke asked, "Thinking of a guy?" When Cassidy just gaped at him, he said, "I hope we didn't interrupt your plans. You could have invited your boyfriend to dinner, too."

Cassidy's face burned. Her boyfriend? Pete was not a boyfriend. He was a miserable, sexy, forever-out-of-reach pal.

Holly started laughing. "Cassidy doesn't date!" She made it sound like the most absurd thing imaginable. "She hasn't been involved with anyone since … gosh, when was it, Cass? Better than a year ago, I think."

Felt like ten years to Cassidy, but then, celibacy probably had that effect on many people.

Duke's smile turned sympathetic. "Now Holly, your sister is too pretty not to date."

Pretty? Well okay, she wasn't an ogre, but … Duke was probably just trying to score points. Still, Cassidy found herself tucking her disheveled hair behind her ears and twittering in the age-old way of women.

"I never said she wasn't pretty," Holly protested. "But as my folks are fond of saying, Cassidy is the levelheaded one. She doesn't waste her time on guys."

Uh-oh. Now Duke was sure to be insulted. After all, what male ego would like being called a waste of time?

But to Cassidy's surprise, Duke picked a different bone entirely. "Meaning you aren't levelheaded?"

Cassidy did a double take. She hadn't thought about it from that perspective. She knew her parents meant well, and she'd always taken the comments to mean Holly was the personable one, the one who got friends and compliments and dates easily. Cassidy thought they were throwing her a crumb, giving her the only credit they could. But the look on Holly's face assured her that Duke had read her sister right.

If Cassidy felt insulted for being called too responsible, how did the comments make Holly feel? Cassidy automatically reached out to her. "Holly, Mom and Dad didn't mean—"

Holly gave her brightest smile. "I bet you were wishing us gone so you could get to bed, huh?" And then to Duke, "Cassidy's an early bird. You'd think she was eighty-seven instead of twenty-seven, with the way she conks out so early."

Cassidy started to deny that accusation, but Holly's eyes were pleading, so instead she fashioned a wide yawn. "Sorry. I did have a really busy week."

Duke pushed to his feet and gently hauled Holly up and into his side. He was a demonstrative man and he couldn't seem to keep his hands off her sister.

He was so attentive, no one could miss how he felt about Holly.

Teasing, Duke said, "I still think it was a guy. I've seen that look before."

Holly playfully swatted at him. "Not lately, you haven't."

"Not from anyone but you." He kissed Holly's nose. "It was really nice of you to have me over, Cassidy. Next time is my treat."

"Great idea, Duke." Holly hugged his arm while giving Cassidy a beseeching look. "Maybe you can talk Mom and Dad into joining us."

They acted like lovesick teenagers, Cassidy thought, and really, Duke was so very nice to Holly, would it be that bad if they were in love? "Sure, I'll see what I can do."

With a grateful squeal, Holly embraced her. "Thanks, Cass. I know this whole relationship thing is out of your league, but—"

Duke laughed, cutting Holly off. "She hasn't been living in a cave, Holly. Come on. Let's make a break for the car while the rain has slowed down."

Cassidy watched them go. The rain had been furious earlier, with lots of thunder and lightning, but now it seemed to have settled into a steady but gentle downpour. Duke made a point of holding his jacket over Holly's head. He opened her door for her, touched her cheek, and smiled at her with love and affection. Cassidy sighed. No one ever looked at her like that. She could see why Holly was smitten.

With food for thought and a final wave to her sister, Cassidy locked up. She turned out all the lights in her condo, took a quick shower, pulled on a tank top and panties, and climbed into bed. Her window was still open and the cooler breeze drifted over her face, her body. She'd probably end up chilled in the night, but for now she needed the fresh air.

She couldn't sleep. Thoughts of her sister in love tangled with thoughts of Pete. Why couldn't he dote on her the way Duke doted on Holly? She rolled to her back and answered her own question: because Holly was everything she wasn't—fun, beautiful, sexy.

Pete's last girlfriend had been the young executive type. She'd stopped in the center to pick him up, usually too early, which Cassidy could tell annoyed Pete. Not that he showed it, she just knew him really well. Maybe that's why things hadn't lasted with Ms. Corporate Exec.

Cassidy propped her arms behind her head and watched the shadows on her ceiling. Because she lived next door to Pete, she'd watched the women come and go. Usually a woman lasted about two weeks before Pete got bored. Any woman who set her sights on tying him down was bound for disappointment.

She certainly wouldn't expect anything lasting from him. Well, other than their friendship, which seemed pretty strong. But Pete liked women like her sister, polished to a soft glow, ultrafeminine, and very ladylike.

She didn't fall into any of those categories, so she didn't stand much of a chance at gaining his attention even on the short term. Not that she'd go out of her way anyhow. She had her pride.

But pride ran a cold second to kissing, touching, and being held. Maybe if she just gave Pete a nudge to let him know she was interested, he'd pick up from there. She couldn't be too obvious. For her entire life, she'd been au naturel—what you saw was what you got. She wouldn't change who she was—not for Pete, not for anyone. But maybe she could just try a few small refinements.

Cassidy chewed her lip and considered her course of action.

A trim for her long hair was way past due; she'd just been too busy, and too unconcerned, to deal with it. But thinking of the too-curly mess it had become, she decided to set an appointment in the morning. And she could dab on a really subtle fragrance, something naturally earthy, like musk. While she was at the mall to get her hair trimmed, she'd also pick out a scent.

Pete had noticed her shorts, so she'd wear them again, maybe with a low-cut top. Her cleavage wasn't anything to crow about, but she wasn't flat-chested, either.

What did she have to lose?

Rolling to her side, Cassidy wondered if Pete would even notice the small changes. She would never be the type of woman he gravitated to, but they were friends, so maybe he wouldn't mind getting more intimate with her.

She'd put her plans into action tomorrow—and hope he didn't already have a date.

* * *

Pete was up with the sun. After hearing that disturbing moan—disturbing on too many levels—he'd tried turning in early. But sleep had been impossible and he'd spent hours tossing and turning, thinking of Cassidy over there with someone else while his muscles cramped and protested. He'd tried to block the awful images from his mind, but they remained, prodding at him like a sore tooth: Cassidy with some suit-wearing jerk; Cassidy getting excited; Cassidy twisting and moaning.

Cassidy climaxing.

He couldn't stand it.

By seven, he was showered, standing at his closet and staring at the lack of professional clothes. Oh, he had a suit, the one he'd worn for his brothers' marriages. Gil had fussed, trying to insist that he buy a new, more expensive one, but Pete refused. He hated the idea of shopping for the thing, trying them on, getting fitted. Then he'd have to pick out a shirt, and a tie, maybe cufflinks… He hated suits.

But Cassidy loved them.

Stiff and fuming, Pete jerked on khaki shorts and a navy pullover, then paced until it got late enough to go to her place. She generally slept in on Saturday mornings. He knew her schedule as well as he knew his own. Right now she'd be curled in bed, all warm and soft and… He couldn't wait a minute more.

He went out his back door and stomped across the rain-wet grass to her patio. He pressed his nose against the glass doors, but it was dark inside, silent. Daunted, Pete looked around, and discovered that her bedroom window was still open.

Shit. What if the guy was still in there? What if he'd spent the night? What if, right this very moment, he was spooned up against her soft backside?

A feral growl rose from Pete's throat, startling him with the viciousness of it. No woman had ever made him growl. He left that type of behavior to his brother, Sam, who was more animal than man.

Now Gil, he was the type of man Cassidy professed to want. A suit, serious, a mover and shaker. A great guy, his brother Gil. So what would Gil do?

He'd be noble for sure, Pete decided. Gil would wait and see if she did have company, and if so, he'd give them privacy.

That thought was so repugnant, Pete started shaking.

To hell with it. His fist rapped sharply on Cassidy's glass door.

A second later, her bedroom curtain moved and Cassidy peered out. "Pete?" she groused in a sleep-froggy voice. "What are you doing?"

"Open up." Pete tried to emulate Gil, to present himself in a calm, civilized manner. "You alone in there?" he snarled.

Her eyes were huge and round in the early morning light. "No, I have the Dallas Cowboys all tucked into my bed. It's a squeeze, but we're managing."

Pete sucked in a breath. "Cassidy…"

"Of course I'm alone, you idiot." Her frowning gaze darted around the yard in confusion. "What time is it?"

She was alone. The tension eased out of Pete, making his knees weak. "I dunno, seven or so." The chill morning air frosted his breath and prickled his skin into goose bumps. "Time to get up and keep your neighbor company."

"Seven!"

He took five steps and looked at her through the screen. She had a bad case of bedhead and her eyes were puffy, still vague with sleep. She looked tumbled and tired and his heart softened with a strange, deep thump. "Open up, Cassidy."

Still confused, not that he blamed her, she rubbed her eyes, pushed her hair out of her face. "Yeah, all right. Keep your pants on." She started to turn away.

"What fun will that be?"

Her head snapped back around. Seconds ticked by before she said, "Get away from my window, you perv. I have to get dressed."

The thump turned into a hard, steady pulse. "Don't bother on my account."

But she'd already walked away, so she missed his sentiments on the matter. Pete thought about peeking, knew he wouldn't and went back to the door to wait. Impatience hummed in his veins. He was a man on a mission, a man driven by testosterone and the ancient, savage need to stake a claim.

The fluorescent kitchen light flickered on and seconds later, her door slid open.

Assuming he'd come in without a greeting, Cassidy slunk away to the sink to start the coffee. Around an enormous yawn, she asked, "What's wrong? Why are you up so early?"

Pete soaked in the sight of her. Now seeing her with new eyes—new lusty eyes—he realized just how appealing she appeared with her long hair hanging in ropes around her shoulders and her skin flushed and warm. Plaid flannel pants hugged her behind and her black tank top molded to her breasts. Her feet were bare, her toes curled against the tile floor.

With the morning air so cool, her nipples had puckered.

Puckered nipples had never taken out his knees before, but now Pete groped for a chair so he wouldn't collapse into a horny heap in the middle of her kitchen. Like Pavlov's dog, his mouth started watering. He could just imagine pulling that skimpy top up and over her head, baring her breasts, taking a plump nipple into his mouth…

In between measuring out fragrant coffee grounds, Cassidy glanced up at him. "Pete?"

"I couldn't sleep," he mumbled, staring in awe at those breasts, mesmerized by the possibilities. He'd never really thought about her breasts before. But boy, she had them. Nice ones, too. Sort of small but perky, like the rest of her.

Someone had touched that lush little firm body just last night. Someone other than him. Pete hated that thought.

"So I don't get to sleep either?" The coffeemaker started to hiss and spit. Cassidy pulled out a chair and slumped boneless in her seat, putting her head on her folded arms. Thick, curly hair went everywhere.

Pete didn't think about it—he just reached across the table and drew his fingers across a long tendril, feeling the texture, the weight and warmth. He was close enough, so he leaned forward and brought it to his nose, breathing in the fragrance of her shampoo.

Cassidy froze. By small degrees, she tipped her face up until her eyes were visible above her forearm and she could lock gazes with him. He still had hold of her hair, still had it pressed to his nose.

She rose up a bit more. "Uh … Pete?"

Neither of them blinked. "Yeah?" He sounded hoarse, but damn, her hair was soft and sweet—as erogenous as her silky skin or a peek at that luscious behind. He imagined how her hair would feel slipping over his chest, his stomach, his thighs… He dropped his hand and sat back.

Cassidy continued to stare at him. As if moving away from a dangerous animal, she slowly pressed her spine into the back of her seat. Her breasts were soft and round under the clinging shirt, trembling with her fast breaths. Her tight little nipples jutted forward.

Pete tried, without much effort, to keep his attention on her face. It was futile.

Cassidy shoved back her chair. "I'll, ah, I'll be right back."

Pete stared up at her with a sense of déjà vu. "Where're you going?"

"I have to … brush my teeth and stuff." She ran off before he could stop her.

Pete got up and paced. He felt insane, a little lost, and a whole lot aroused. Once the coffee finished dripping, he poured two cups, doctoring Cassidy's the same way she always took it, with lots of sugar and cream. He even rummaged through her cabinet and found some prepackaged brownies, knowing she'd want one.

He was leaning against the sink, sipping his coffee and thinking of the deliciously depraved things he wanted to do to her, when she shyly came back into the kitchen. Pete stalled with the cup to his mouth.

She hadn't changed clothes, but she'd brushed out her hair and neatly braided it, leaving flirty little curls to tease her temples, her nape. Her face was pink, her lips shiny with clear gloss.

She'd fixed up for him?

Very slowly, Pete set his coffee aside. "I was thinking, Cassidy…"

She swallowed hard and charged into the room, grabbing her coffee with near desperation. After downing half of it, she wiped her mouth and in the process removed most of the gloss she'd just applied. Pete grinned. She was … adorable.

How come he'd never noticed that before? He remembered how, as soon as he knew Ariel wanted Sam, he stopped thinking of her sexually. She became family to him. Had he done that with Cassidy, relegating her to the category of friend and not allowing himself to think of her in any other way? He hadn't wanted to screw up with Ariel, to alienate her or his brother. And God knew he valued Cassidy's friendship too much to risk it.

Visibly bracing herself, Cassidy prompted him, saying, "Yeah? You were thinking?"

Usually they were comfortable with each other, but now she seemed edgy. Pete didn't like that, so he decided to ease into things.

"Are you dating anyone?" When she said yes, then Pete could suggest she date him, and they could move on from there.

But Cassidy shook her head. "You know I'm not."

Pete drew back, narrowing his eyes in thought. "You can tell me anything, you know. We're … friends."

"Sure." When Pete just waited, she said, "I don't have time to date."

Pete blinked. If she wasn't dating, then it had been what—a one-night stand? No. He shook his head. Cassidy wasn't into those any more than he was.

He decided to approach the idea of sex from a different angle. "You didn't come over to watch the movie with me last night."

She blushed. Blushed. What was that about?

"I know." She shifted her feet. "I had … other stuff to do."

Yeah, he knew what other stuff—like moaning out an orgasm. He locked his jaw and clenched his teeth. "Another guy to see?"

The blush gave way to frowning annoyance. "I just said no, didn't I?"

"But…" Why was she fudging the truth? "You're saying you didn't have a date last night?"

Exasperation sharpened her tone. "How many ways can I say it, Pete? I'm not dating anyone. I haven't had a date in a year. You see me every damned day, so I'd think you'd know it."

No date. Pete stood there for fifteen seconds before other ideas started squeezing past his confusion. Ho boy.

If she hadn't been with a guy, that meant she'd been alone when he heard that soft, excited, and sexual moan. And if she'd been alone and moaning like that, then she'd been…

His abdomen clenched with sexual images so vivid he thought he might collapse. Tenderness rolled over him, too. She'd been alone. All by herself. He stared at her, feeling both soft in the heart and hard in the crotch.

Bless her heart. He wanted to smile and hold her. He wanted to strip her naked and pull her down to the floor.

It was still up in the air exactly what he'd do, but he knew where to start. Throbbing with need, Pete took a small step toward her. "If I kissed you—"

Her eyes widened. "You're going to kiss me?"

Shock made her look almost comical. "If I did, what would you do?"

Her mouth opened twice before she whispered, "I don't know."

"Would you slap me?"

That had her frowning again. "No."

He took another step toward her. "Would you push me away?"

Cheeks flushed with warm color, she shook her head. "Of course not."

"Great." Pete moved closer still. He took her coffee cup and set it on the counter. "What would you do?"

She stared up at him, her blue-green eyes shining, her lips parted. "I'd kiss you back," she said on a breathless gasp, and then she attacked him.

Pete staggered back from her assault. And it was an assault. She had a death grip on his neck, her mouth plastered to his so hard his lips were smashed against his teeth. The small of his back landed with jarring impact against the sharp edge of the counter.

"Mmmrrrmm." Pete tried to speak, to tell her to slow down, but she wasn't exactly a weak woman and he didn't want to hurt her. When he tried to pull back, her fingers locked into his hair. Now that hurt.

Pete turned so she was the one nailed against the counter. He covered a breast with his hand.

That got her attention.

Got his, too. Boy, she felt good.

Cassidy freed his mouth and groaned, "Pete."

Her eyes were closed, her heartbeat hammering madly against his palm. He smiled and said, "Cassidy."

She tried to kiss him again, but Pete dodged her mouth. "Take it easy, okay? How about you just stand there looking like you look, and let me do the kissing?"

"Was … was I bad?"

"Maybe just a little out of practice."

Her lashes lowered to hide her eyes. "Sorry. It's been over a year."

Shocked and appalled, Pete paused in his ascent toward her mouth. "A year since you've been kissed?"

"Yeah." And then, defensively, "I've been busy."

But not too busy to pleasure herself last night. Oh man, that was fodder for many fantasies to come. Had she been thinking of him? Now his toes were curling.

"Jesus, I'm glad I woke you up." He pried her fingers out of his hair.

"Me, too." She tried a grin. "So, uh, now what?"

A loaded question for sure. Pete caught her waist and hefted her up to the countertop. "That's up to you, but I'd say you have a year's worth of kissing to make up for."

Cassidy smiled. "Then let's get started."

Three

« ^ »

Cassidy had to fight against swooning. All it took was a braid in her hair, and Pete wanted her? Who knew?

Her hair was so long that braiding it was an awkward pain in the butt, a lesson in flexibility, but hey, if it turned Pete into a ravening animal, she'd braid it every single day.

With her fanny on the countertop, she was able to look down at him. But he didn't meet her gaze. No, he was staring at her chest. More specifically, her nipples, which even now were stiff against the thin material of her tank top.

It was a little embarrassing, definitely not something she was used to. She'd sort of figured on Pete being more a challenge.

Clearing her throat, Cassidy asked, "So did you come over here just for this?"

Distracted, he said, "Yeah." And then his hands covered her breasts and his eyes closed as he murmured, "Damn, you feel good."

She would have slid right off the counter except that Pete was there, standing between her knees, keeping her in place.

His thumbs brushed over her nipples and it felt so good, so electric, Cassidy slumped back and banged her head on the wall. Now half reclining, she used her elbows to support herself and absorbed the wonderful sensation of being touched by Pete Watson.

He leaned forward, murmured something low, and then his mouth was at her breast, his lips plucking at her nipple through the material of the shirt. Cassidy groaned and said, "I was thinking about this last night."

"I know," he whispered in between taunting little nips with his teeth.

That momentarily stumped her. "What do you mean, you know?"

He paused, his hands stilling on the hem of her shirt. His dark brown eyes looked velvety and warm when they met hers, then he shrugged and tugged the shirt above her breasts, baring her to his gaze. He swallowed and color slashed his cheekbones. "I was thinking it, too," he admitted in husky tones. "Something happened between us yesterday, that's all I meant."

"Oh."

His mouth, scalding hot and damp, closed around her stiffened nipple.

"Oh." Cassidy arched her back, offering herself to him, amazed at the intensity of the feelings he gave her.

Pete sucked languidly. His tongue swirled around her, his teeth occasionally nipping before sucking softly again. "You taste good, Cassidy."

She was in the most awkward position, cramped against the wall beside her sink, her legs half-dangling off the counter at either side of his lean hips. She couldn't move much, couldn't really lie down or sit up. "Pete?"

He switched to the other nipple, latching on hungrily before slowing down, teasing with his tongue and teeth. "Hmmm?"

"Let's go to my bedroom."

His head lifted. His eyes were almost black now, heavy-lidded. He was breathing hard, his lips wet. "Yeah."

Before Cassidy could push off the counter, he put his arms around her hips and lifted, holding her tight to his chest, her legs around his waist as he made his way down the hall.

With one big hand splayed wide over her behind, Pete growled, "You know where this is headed, right?"

Hands braced on his shoulders, Cassidy gave him a blank look. The friction of his hard abdomen against the soft apex of her thighs was enough to leave her brainless. She nodded. "We're going to have sex. At least I hope we are."

Pete gave a rough laugh, surged into her room, and dumped her on her bed. He immediately followed her down, sprawling out over her, catching her hands and pinning them beside her head. "Damn right we are." His smile faded. "But I have to know you won't have regrets, Cassidy."

"Why would I?" she asked, when what she really wanted to say was, Get on with it.

"We're good friends." Slowly, Pete leaned down and touched his mouth to hers. A tender, almost loving kiss. Not sexual so much as emotional. It confused and elated her.

Between soft, small kisses to her lips, her chin, her throat, he whispered, "Very good friends. I value that. You're important to me. I don't want things to get … weird between us."

Meaning he didn't want her to start getting clingy. She understood that. To a freewheeler like Pete, she must seem like a complete stick-in-the-mud. The sensible part of her brain nagged at her, saying it wasn't too late to back out before she got hurt. But she'd been sensible all her life and damn it, she was lonely.

Eventually they'd part ways. In a year, two at the most, she'd have enough money saved, and enough experience, to open her own sports center. She couldn't see Pete working for her, so their friendship would likely wane. She hated that reality, even as she accepted it.

He was interested now. She was more than interested. For once she snuffed her sensible thoughts and went for broke.

Cupping his face, she held him back. Her fingers sank into the cool, silky thickness of his dark hair while her thumbs stroked his cheeks, luxuriating in the rasp of beard stubble, the lean hardness of his jaw. Cassidy smiled at him. It wasn't easy and her lips felt stiff, but she managed it. "I have long-term goals, Pete. You know that, just as you know how determined I am. I'm not going to throw all my plans into the wind just because we sleep together."

He looked far too serious and solemn. "Cassidy…"

"Shhh." She leaned up and took his mouth, loving his taste, even loving him a little. "I want you. I think you want me."

"You know I do."

She let out a breath. "We're both adults, both available, and as you said, we're friends. I trust you, more than any other guy I know. That's enough, isn't it?"

He ducked his head, and for one agonizing moment, Cassidy thought he was going to pull away. Then he moved to her side and put his hand on her belly. "I guess it'll have to be."

She had no idea what he meant by that, but his fingers were on her bare skin, teasing her abdomen before dipping under the waistband of her flannel pants. His baby finger tickled her navel, making her muscles pull tight in reaction.

Pete leaned over her and took her mouth, somehow making a mere kiss so much more—deeper, hotter, more intimate. She was still assimilating the wonder of that when his fingers pressed lower, into her panties, then tangled with her pubic hair.

Against her mouth, he said, "No, don't stiffen up." His fingers felt hot, callused. "I'm sorry if I'm rushing things, but I'm dying to touch you."

Dying to touch her. Cassidy sighed and parted her legs a bit. She wanted him to touch her. Everything about this felt magical: his delicious scent surrounding her, the heat of his muscled body pressed all along her side. The gentle, careful way his hands moved over her.

With his hand still cupping her mound, Pete rose on one elbow. "Look at me, Cass."

It was a struggle to get her heavy eyes open and focused on his face. Their labored breaths seemed to find a matching rhythm. Pete stared at her, his eyes smoldering, intense, and his fingers parted her, gently stroking, easing—he sank one finger deep inside her.

She didn't mean to, but Cassidy pressed her head back into the mattress, closing her eyes to hold in the sensations.

Pete went still. "Open your eyes, honey. Come on, look at me."

She panted, struggled to get control of herself, and finally, her bottom lip caught in her teeth, met his gaze.

"You're already wet." He looked at her mouth, smiled. "Don't bite your lip. Ease up. That's it. Now how does that feel?" He pressed in, pulled back.

There were no words, so Cassidy just nodded.

"Good?"

"Yes." She lifted her hips against him and groaned. "Very good. But not enough."

"Does this help?" He pushed a second finger into her. "Damn, you're tight."

"Oh God."

"Come on, Cassidy," he tempted softly. "Keep your eyes open. Let me watch you, let me see what you feel." He pulled his fingers out, slowly pressed them back in, out, back in. "You can move your hips with me."

Because she couldn't not move, she did.

Groaning, Pete said, "Yeah, like that." He ducked his head and captured her nipple, suckling, tonguing. Sucking hard.

Whenever Cassidy had thought about sex with Pete—and she'd thought of it a lot—it hadn't been like this, with them both dressed, him more so than her, and lying on her bed with him doing things to her. She'd imagined it being a reciprocal event, her touching him and kissing him and ogling him in the buff.

"Pete, please."

As if her words snapped him out of a daze, he sat up in a rush. "Let's get rid of this, okay?" He peeled her shirt completely off her, then his own.

Oh wow. Cassidy stared at his bare chest, lightly furred in dark hair, taut with muscle, wide and hard. If the sports center would change its policy about wearing polo shirts, they'd get more customers. Women would flock in to see Pete in nothing more than shorts, she was sure of it. When she got her own place, she'd talk him into letting her use him for a poster.

"Now these."

He reached for the waistband of her flannel pants and Cassidy was overcome with shyness. What would he think of her naked? Would he enjoy the sight of her body as much as she enjoyed his?

"Lift your hips."

She gulped down her nervousness and did as he asked and, just like that, she was naked. Pete sat back beside her, looking at her body in minute detail, taking his damn time.

She started to tremble. Despite his requests, she closed her eyes and even turned her head to the side, waiting in an agony of suspense to see what he'd say. But he didn't say anything at all.

She felt his breath on her belly and jerked. "Pete?"

His lips moved over her skin; he nuzzled with his nose.

"Pete!"

"You smell so damn good." He ended that statement with something of a growl and then his hands were on her upper thighs, pulling her legs open.

Shock kept Cassidy immobile. Surely he didn't think to—oh yeah, he did. Her head fell back again. "Pete."

After one hot kiss to her vulva, he slid off the side of the bed. "Keep talking to me, Cass. I like it."

Her eyes widened. Such an inane thing to say to her! Cassidy almost smiled, but she was too hot, too turned on, to find any real humor in the situation. And now that he'd requested it, she couldn't think of a single thing to say.

Pete kept kissing her inner thighs, easing them farther and farther apart with his forearms holding them there. When she was inelegantly sprawled, he stared down at her, his eyes half closed, his lips parted, his face flushed. His expression very intent, he moved closer, closer. Moaning, he sank his strong fingers into her tender thighs, and stroked his tongue into her.

For Cassidy, it was as much the idea of what he did, as the physical feel of it, that had her ready to explode. No one had ever kissed her there. The few dates she'd had that resulted in sex had been perfunctory and unsatisfactory. The men had rushed to get her naked, rushed to get inside, then rushed to leave.

Pete didn't seem to be in a rush at all. In fact, in that moment, he rumbled, "I could do this all night."

She didn't think she could take it all night.

"Talk to me, honey. Do you like this?" His tongue moved over her swollen lips, pressed deep inside.

"Yes."

"And this?" He stabbed with his tongue, short, quick strokes.

A quaking had started deep inside her, radiating out to her legs, making her lungs constrict, her heart thunder. She choked, "Yes."

"And how about … this." Very gently, he closed his mouth over her clitoris and flicked with his tongue and Cassidy knew she was lost.

"Yes, yes, yes." The climax took her completely by surprise. She hadn't expected it. Not so easily. Her whole body went taut and hot, shaking uncontrollably, her hips lifting and twisting against his mouth, her hands gripping the sheets tight, trying to anchor herself.

"Oh God." It felt like she'd die, like she'd never be the same again. Even after the crushing pleasure faded, her body continued to pulse and shiver and she still couldn't get enough air into her lungs or any strength into her limp limbs.

Reality swam around her, not quite within reach. She felt good, alive and sated and weak. She knew Pete had moved, that he'd stood up, but she couldn't seem to gather her wits. Incredible aftershocks of sensation shimmered through her.

Then Pete was over her, his chest crushing her breasts, his hairy thighs wedging between hers. He held her face while speaking softly. "I should wait, I know it, but I can't." Something hard pressed against her sex. She was sensitive, still swollen, and she flinched. "Forgive me, Cassidy."

He thrust into her—heavy, thick, hot, and hard—and Cassidy melted in renewed pleasure. There was nothing tentative about the way Pete began moving, stroking steadily, already groaning, heat pouring off him.

"Ah … Christ," he said, and grabbed her face to hold her still for his voracious kiss. He was wild, his tongue in her mouth, his body smothering hers. The hair on his chest abraded her nipples, his abdomen rubbed against her belly, her thighs ached from the unfamiliar position, and Cassidy felt the swelling eruptions start again, building, overflowing.

She locked her ankles at the small of Pete's back, inadvertently sending him deeper, to a spot that was almost pain, the pleasure was so fierce. Sobbing, she tried to pull her mouth away enough to breathe, but he held her too tight, too close. He drove into her faster, harder, and when he stiffened, his hips jerking, Cassidy came with him, swallowing his groan and giving him her own.

Happiness, euphoria, cocooned her. Pete was still atop her body, their warmth sealing their damp flesh together. His breath had finally calmed in her ear and she felt him withdrawing as he lost his erection.

"Mmm." Lazily, she trailed her fingertips down his spine. His skin was sleek and hot, a little sweaty. "That tickles."

He didn't move. "What?"

"Your leaving me."

"Oh. Yeah, that happens when I get wrung out." Sluggishly, Pete forced himself up on stiffened arms. Their gazes met, hers a little timid, his triumphant. He smiled. "You're incredible."

Warmth flooded Cassidy's face. "Thank you. You, too."

His attention drifted from her eyes to her mouth. "Wanna do it again?"

Cassidy felt him growing hard once more. Her eyes widened. "But…"

Laughing, Pete rolled to the side of her. "In a little bit, I mean. Hell, I have to regain my strength." He reached over and absently patted her thigh. "I know the manly thing to do would be to hightail it into the bathroom to get rid of the rubber, but I'm not sure I'd make it. You got any tissues in here or anything?"

Cassidy stared at her ceiling, astounded by the turn of events. She, Cassidy McClannahan, the sensible one, was being queried by a gorgeous man on how to deal with a spent condom. She chuckled and forced herself upright with renewed energy. Pete was sprawled beside her, one hand on his chest, the other near her hip. His eyes were still heavy, a crooked smile still on his mouth.

"I guess I'm stronger than you." She swung her legs off the side of the bed and stood—then staggered.

Pete chuckled. "Yeah, right."

"Be right back."

As she headed into the hall, he said, "You're always saying that to me."

It didn't occur to Cassidy that she was naked until she stepped into the bright light of the bathroom and saw herself in the mirror. Gads. Her once-tidy braid now looked like a frayed rope. Little hairs stuck out everywhere. Cassidy jerked out the rubber band, brushed her hair, and decided against braiding it again. It'd take too long, especially considering she had a naked man in her bed.

She wet a washcloth, wrung it out, and headed back to Pete with the small bathroom trash can in hand. She could feel her hair feathering against the bare skin of her back, reminding her of her nakedness. Now that she'd thought about being naked, she felt more self-conscious. She peeked into the bedroom, saw Pete had pushed himself up against the headboard and knew there was no help for it. At least he was naked, too. A nice distraction, that. Trying not to look embarrassed, Cassidy waltzed in.

Pete leered at her. "I like your hair like that. Last night, I was thinking about all that hair sliding over me while we made out."

Cassidy drew to a stunned halt. "You were?"

"Yeah. What did you think about me?"

"Ummm…" To give herself time to formulate a safe answer, because after all, she couldn't tell him she'd been mooning over him forever, she came in and handed him the trash can and cloth. It was an amazing thing, watching Pete peel away a condom and use the washcloth as if having an audience of one very interested woman didn't affect him at all.

"Cassidy?" He dropped the cloth over the side of the bed and caught her hand, tumbling her onto his chest. "Snap out of it, woman."

She had been watching the process rather fixedly, she realized.

With no real assistance from her, Pete arranged her next to him, pulling one of her legs over his lap, her arm over his chest and tucking her face against his shoulder.

The position was so comforting, but so alien, Cassidy felt stiff. "This is new to me."

"Yeah?" His hand smoothed her hair, her shoulder. "Do tell."

Not in this lifetime. "I thought it was crass to talk about stuff like that."

"I don't want details." He shuddered at the thought. "But how come this is new to you? You're twenty-seven, right? Same as me?"

"Yeah." Disgruntled, she tangled her fingers in his chest hair and frowned up at him. "I didn't say I was a virgin. I just haven't done this much. And usually the guy didn't stick around asking stupid questions afterward."

Pete seemed to be chewing that over before coming to his own conclusions. "So you've been with the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind? That's pathetic."

She sighed and nestled closer. She could stay like this forever. "I know."

"Hey, I didn't mean you." He tugged on her hair to get her face tipped up to his. "I meant the jerk who walked. What an idiot."

"Idiots. Plural."

"So how many idiots have you been with?"

This time she gave his chest hair a tug. "That is none of your business and you know it. I haven't asked how many women you've been with."

"You can if you want to. Like I said, we're friends. I realized yesterday that we talk a lot. About everything."

Did he seriously think she wanted to tally up his conquests and converse about them? "No."

"I'm as comfortable with you as I am with the guys."

And that was supposed to reassure her? Cassidy thought about slugging him. She pulled her fist back, ready to poke him in the ribs.

"No guys ever kissed you between the legs before, huh?"

Oh God. Her arm fell to her side and she ducked her face against him. Maybe she could just sink into the bedding. Maybe she'd get lucky and disappear. No, Pete was still there. Still waiting.

"Cassidy?"

Beyond annoyed, she sat up and glared at him. "I may be new at this but I still don't think this is normal after-sex conversation, even between very good friends."

"I liked it." He grinned shamefully. "You taste good."

Cassidy thought her eyes might cross. He had no shame, no modesty, no understanding of the restrictions on polite conversation.

Giving up, she fell backward on the bed and pulled a pillow over her face. Her words muffled by goose down, she said, "You're outrageous. Will you please stop?"

"No." The bed dipped and shook as Pete moved. "In fact," he said, from somewhere near her knees, "I wouldn't mind doing it again. Right now."

Hot, moist breath touched her, obliterating all her objections—and someone knocked on her front door.

Four

« ^ »

Pete groaned at the intrusion. Where his palm rested on the inside of Cassidy's thigh, she was warm and firm and silky. "You expecting company?"

"No." Cassidy removed the pillow, twisted, and looked upside down at her alarm clock. "It's nine-thirty already." She flopped flat again and said to Pete with evident surprise, "I thought we'd only been in here a little while."

Grinning, Pete squeezed her leg. His fingertips were that close to her pubic hair. "Time flies when you're having fun." The knock sounded again and he sighed in disappointment. "Want me to get that?"

"Good God, no!"

She scrambled out of the bed, gloriously bereft of clothing. Her ass was round and soft, her waist trim, her legs sleek. That long hair swung around her, caressing her back, sides, shoulders. Pete lounged back and crossed his arms behind his head, enjoying the show.

"It could be my parents."

Right. June and Ward Cleaver. Pete made a face that she didn't see. "What do you want me to do?"

She jerked on a shirt and wrangled into her flannel pants. On her way out, she said, "Just be quiet." She closed the door behind her.

Pete was on his feet in a flash. He pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around his hips. Carefully, not making a sound, he eased out of the room and followed Cassidy down the hall. He had just peeked around the corner when Cassidy unlocked her front door and pulled it open.

Gil stood there on her stoop with Sam beside him. "Morning, Cassidy. Did we wake you?"

Cassidy, poor girl, pressed a hand to her chest and stared. From Pete's vantage point, she seemed to be in shock. "Uh…"

Next to Gil, Sam stuck out his hand. "I'm Pete's brother, Sam. Gil thought you might know where he is."

Cassidy gave a very limp handshake and said again, "Uh…"

Both his brothers were here, looking for him? Pete stepped around the corner. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Her eyes so wide they looked ready to fall out of her head, Cassidy turned to face him. Gil gave him the once-over, making particular note of the sheet, and started fighting a grin. He cleared his throat, looked up at the ceiling, shifted his position.

Sam, who apparently saw nothing amiss, didn't so much as blink. "Everything's fine. We were just going to head out on Gil's boat and thought you might like to tag along. Sorry if we interrupted. Gil said you hang out here a lot."

It struck Pete then, exactly what he'd just given away. He looked at Cassidy, but she was beet-red and mute with incredulity. Damn it, he'd embarrassed her.

Gil cleared his throat again. "We can see you're otherwise engaged. Later."

He and Sam started to turn away, but Cassidy said, "No, wait." Using both hands, she shoved her hair out of her face. "We, ah, I had to go out now anyway."

Pete reached out and took her upper arms. "Cassidy…"

She wouldn't quite meet his gaze. "I need to go to the mall. And then I have to visit my parents and … you should go. Go with your brothers. Go on."

She actually shooed him.

Pete crossed his arms over his chest. "Can I get my shorts first?"

Poleaxed, she laughed too loud. "Yeah. Your shorts. I'll get them for you." And she practically ran out of the room.

Sam said, "Am I missing something?"

Gil grinned. "I believe the world just shifted."

"Ha ha." Pete walked to the front door and held it open. "If you two hooligans want to wait at my place, I'll be right there."

"What, and stand around outside? Your place is locked up." Gil started for the couch. "We'll just wait here."

"No."

"Yeah." Sam joined Gil, saying thoughtfully, "Do you remember a certain baby brother making our romantic lives hell?"

"I have a vague memory of that, yes."

Pete had tussled with his brothers many times. But not in a sheet. Odds were if he tried it now, he'd end up bare-assed and that just wouldn't do. He didn't wrestle with certain things flopping about unprotected. "Fine. But you're only embarrassing her, not me."

Sam, the only blue-eyed one of the brothers, stretched out his long legs in ragged jeans. "You mean like Ariel was embarrassed when you caught her in my boxers?"

"That was funny," Pete declared.

"Or when you tried to find out which Web sites featured Annabel on them?" Gil asked.

"I was curious." Then with disgust: "Come on, Gil. I was just teasing you then and you know it."

Sam settled in with a grin. "We'll be waiting."

With nothing else to do, Pete stormed into Cassidy's bedroom. She was perched on the edge of the bed, still pink but now dressed in jeans and a knit shirt. As if they could hear her, she whispered hopefully, "Are they gone?"

Pete threw the sheet aside. "Hell, no. They stuck their asses to your couch and they're not leaving until I leave with them." He grabbed up his boxers and yanked them on.

"I see." She licked her lips with her gaze glued south of his navel. "Maybe I'll just wait in here until then."

"Coward." Pete eyed her as he zipped up his shorts and grabbed for his shirt. "You don't have any reason to be embarrassed, you know."

"But I'm the sensible one. How sensible is this?"

Oh, now that stung. Eyes narrowed, he stalked to her and, as she hastily leaned back, caged her in with his fists on the mattress at either side of her hips. "What exactly does that mean, Cassidy?"

She swallowed hard. Braced on her elbows, her breath fast and shallow, she hissed, "You know what I mean."

Her hot breath brushed his mouth, and damn it, he wanted her again. "Explain it to me."

"You're a … a carouser." Once she said it, she warmed to the topic. "A hound dog, a hedonist. You're never going to settle down."

Pete went very still. He was … well, hell, he was hurt. And a little confused. Cautiously, he asked, "Did you want to settle down?"

"Yes! You know I do—someday." Her gaze was defiant. "I have my plans for the future, remember?"

"That's right." Plans that didn't include him. Pete straightened away. If he didn't put some distance between them, he'd be kissing her again and they both knew where that would lead. "You want a guy in a black tie, a corporate dude who's just like Daddy."

"Don't you dare be snide!" Temper shot her off the bed so she could glare up at him. "At least I have plans beyond getting laid!"

A tap sounded on her bedroom door and Cassidy nearly fell over.

Whipping around, Pete barked, "What?"

"We can hear you, and since it appears this argument won't be over any time soon, we're going to go ahead and mosey over to your place. Don't keep us waiting."

Eyes huge, her hand clutching his wrist, Cassidy whispered, "That was Sam?"

"Yeah." Pete ran his free hand over his face, far too frustrated for a guy who'd just had over-the-moon sex.

"He heard me." She freed her death grip on him to cover her mouth. "Ohmigod."

"Now don't faint." Amusement at her reaction took away some of the sting of her disapproval. "Sam's heard worse, believe me. And if I had to make a guess, they were cheering you on."

"But you're their brother."

"Exactly. It's no fun to pick on a girl, anyway."

"Woman," she clarified distractedly.

"What?"

"I'm a woman, not a girl." Then: "This is so embarrassing. I'll never be able to face them again."

Pete put his arm around her. "Sure you will. You're my helper when I baby-sit, remember? And someday I'd like you to meet my sisters-in-law. They're terrific." He led her out of the room and to the couch that Sam and Gil had vacated. He felt safer getting away from the bed, where he could think clearer. Not much clearer, considering she looked well-loved, but at least this room wasn't scented by their lovemaking, too.

And it had been lovemaking, he realized. Not just sex. He'd had sex. Hell, he loved sex. But what he'd done with Cassidy was something … richer. Only she didn't seem to know it.

He frowned, trying to figure out what to say to her.

"You should go."

That pissed him off more. She did her best to rush him out the door. Talk about a wham-bam-thank-you … sir. "Look, Cassidy, we should probably get a few things straight."

"All right, but make it quick. I don't want your brothers to come back here."

His annoyance rose. Why had he never realized what a bossy, irritating woman Cassidy could be? "You want me to cut to the chase? Fine." He stood over her, forcing her to tilt her head back to see him. "I'm. Not. Done."

She scooted back on the couch. "Not done with what?"

"Not what, who. One time having you isn't near enough." Color flooded into her face until she looked sunburned. "Now don't start getting wide-eyed on me again. I don't intend to get in the way of your grand plans. I'm sure your suited Romeo will still be out there after we've finished exploring this … connection."

Her long hair hid her face from him. Her fingers twined together in her lap. Then she nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

She looked up, and she was smiling. "I want to explore it, too."

Well. That hadn't been as hard as he'd expected. "Great. So from now on, don't go shoving me out the door."

"Tell your brothers not to interrupt and I won't."

That made Pete smile. "If I told them that, they'd probably hang around as much as possible. It'll be better if I just don't say much about you at all."

Her wry expression told him just what she was thinking.

"Don't judge me by your own standards. I'm not embarrassed to be sleeping with you. I'm just trying to protect you from them."

"Why would they bother me?"

"Because I bothered them when they were—" Pete gulped. He'd almost said, falling in love. That'd really have her tossing him out the door. She didn't want anyone like him, not permanently anyway. She wanted a suit, a stuffed shirt.

Maybe he should meet her dad. Hmmm…

"What?" Cassidy gave him a funny look. "What are you thinking?"

"Oh, nothing." Shaking his head, Pete said, "We just like to rib each other, that's all."

"Okay then." She stood and started ushering him to the door. "Go and let them rib you so they won't embarrass me."

"Yes, ma'am." Pete pulled her into a hug first. "Cassidy? You were phenomenal."

Her grin was cheeky and fun. "Thanks. You, too."

Pete stepped outside and was just about to close the door behind him when Cassidy said, "Pete?"

Such a cautious voice. Turning back, he raised a brow.

Very softly, she said, "I'm not at all embarrassed to sleep with you."

"No?" That made him feel better—although he wasn't sure he believed her.

"No." She pushed the door almost closed. "In fact," she said through the narrow opening, "I'm looking forward to sleeping with you again."

The door snapped shut and the lock clicked into place. Pete stood there, grinning like an idiot, oblivious to his brothers watching from the stoop next door—until Sam said, "Yeah, it's love. I recognize the signs."

"Most definitely," Gil agreed.

Pete jerked out of his daze. There wasn't anything he could do about his brothers ribbing him, not after the way he'd goaded them back during their courtships, but he could at least move it to someplace private to protect Cassidy. She was embarrassed enough already. Eventually she'd have to get used to his brothers … or would she?

"Eavesdropping?" Pete grouched. "Don't you two have anything better to do?" Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he strode to them and unlocked his front door.

Sam eyed him in the intimidating way only an older brother could. Given the older brother was a certified badass, intimidation came easily. "You don't look too worried about being in love."

Gil bent to see Pete's face. "He's not blanching even a little."

Pete laughed. Yeah, he thought he just might be in love. What to do about it—that was the big question. He pushed his front door open with a flourish. "You might as well come on in."

Sam snorted. "As if you had a choice in that."

By rote, all three brothers headed for the kitchen. Didn't matter where they were, the kitchen was the official meeting place for anything important. Pete assumed this meant they considered his situation with Cassidy important, not just fodder for harassment.

He opened his fridge and tossed Sam a frosty can of Coke, then handed one to his quieter brother. Pete popped the tab on his own and started to drink, but Gil snatched it out of his hands.

"You two are such hillbillies." He turned to Sam, but Sam had that touch-my-drink-and-you're-in-trouble look. Sighing, Gil rinsed Pete's can under the tap and dried it. "Here. If you don't have enough breeding to use a glass, at least clean the thing."

So saying, Gil got down a glass and filled it with ice.

Sam had already guzzled half his Coke from the "dirty" can, and now he tipped it at Pete. "I'm more concerned as to whether or not you're using protection than if you get a few dust germs off your drink."

Pete took a long swallow before saying, "You know, Sam, when I was a teen—hell, even when I was in my early twenties—it was amusing the way you constantly reminded me about that. But in case you missed it, I'm grown now. And I'm as responsible as you or Gil."

Both brothers cracked up.

When Gil saw Pete's fuming face, he choked down his laughter. "Sorry. Okay, so maybe where birth control is concerned you're cautious enough."

"Thank you."

Sam was still snickering, which only drove home Cassidy's point that Pete wasn't a sensible choice for any wise woman to get involved with. Even his own brothers thought him reckless. That burned his butt big time.

Gil took a seat at the table. Sam hopped up on the counter. Pete lounged against the wall—and waited.

"So," Gil said. "Are you in love with her?"

"Maybe."

Sam eyed him. "You really don't seem too worried about it."

Shrugging, Pete admitted, "I'm more worried about what she thinks." It took the rest of his Coke and three deep breaths before he screwed up the nerve to spill his guts. "She thinks I'm irresponsible, too."

"Too?"

With a wry look, Pete pointed out, "Wasn't that you two just laughing your asses off at me?"

"Oh, now hey, we're you're brothers." Sam straightened with annoyance. "We're allowed to give you shit. You need it."

"Exactly," Gil agreed. "But if Cassidy really thinks that about you, then she just doesn't know you well enough."

"Don't get any ideas about clueing her in," Pete warned. "Our relationship is…"

"Delicate?"

"I guess."

Sam leveled him with a look. "Sex was good?"

"None of your damn business!"

Sam held up both hands, but he was grinning. "Such a reaction," he said to Pete, "means one of two things—either it was great and it has you floundering, or it was awful and you just wish it hadn't happened."

Thoughtfully, Gil shook his head. "No, I've gotten to know Cassidy. She's not awful at anything."

"An overachiever?" Sam asked.

"Something like that. She's one of those really organized women who knows what she wants and goes after it. She's got like a five-year plan and a ten-year plan. Hell, probably a twenty-year plan."

"Looked to me like she wanted Pete."

Gil shrugged and took another drink. "All things considered."

Pete really wished it was that easy. Sure, Cassidy had slept with him—then more or less told him he couldn't get in the way of her goals for a committed relationship. He rubbed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, wishing he could figure her out. One thing was plain, though. "She's into guys in suits."

Gil rolled his eyes. "Yeah, so wear a suit."

Everything always seemed so cut-and-dried to Gil. He was one hell of a businessman, making plans and decisions with absolute certainty. Nothing ever threw him off course. He was more suited to Cassidy than Pete would ever be. Thank God Gil was already married. "I can't exactly wear suits to work out in the sports center, now can I?"

Slapping his hands onto his thighs, Gil said, "I have a solution."

Sam groaned. "Here we go."

"Shut up, Sam." Then to Pete: "Take a job with me. People love you. You'd be great at sales pitches, talking to the board, dealing with consumers…"

"But you'd have to wear a suit." Sam shuddered.

"That's the whole point, Sam. He said Cassidy likes suits."

"So why the hell isn't she wearing them? Did he ask her that?" Sam hopped off the counter. "The answer is not to do something you'd be miserable doing."

Gil stood, too. "Why would he be miserable working with me?"

His brothers were both nuts, Pete realized. And he loved them. "I wouldn't be miserable, but damn, Gil, you're so good at it I'd be trailing behind. And Sam's right, I can't change my life for her."

Sam slung a heavily muscled arm over Pete's shoulders. "I say stick with the great sex. It'll win her over for sure."

"Yeah," Gil conceded, "that just might do the trick."

All three brothers laughed. It didn't solve Pete's problem, but being with his brothers today was just the distraction he needed. "Are we going out on the boat or what?"

"We're going." Gil led the way out the front door. "It's too nice a day to stay inside. But Annabel and Ariel are planning a baby shower or something, so they couldn't go along."

"So I'm second choice, huh?"

Gil winked. "Over my wife? Always."

"I'm driving," Sam told them as he slipped on his mirrored sunglasses.

Gil snatched the keys out of his hand. "No, you're still shaking over the idea of Ariel being pregnant. I'd just as soon reach the boat alive, thank you very much."

* * *

Driving down the road with the setting sun in her face, Cassidy thought about all the time she'd spent at the mall. She'd done some shopping, and in the process, she'd ventured into a salon where she lost a good two inches of hair. The beautician had wanted to take off more than that, but Cassidy was too cowardly to do too much at once. She promised the woman she'd look at her hair when she got home, think about it, and maybe come back soon.

Now at least the ends were smooth instead of poofing out like dandelion fluff. She liked the softer look. To her, it made a huge difference, making her wonder if taking off a little more might be a good thing.

In the passenger seat of her car, a pretty pink bag rustled in the current from the open window. Inside that bag were her purchases of new underwear. Skimpy, sexy panties and two matching wisplike bras that she couldn't believe she'd bought, and doubted even more that she'd wear. They didn't look all that comfortable, but then, for the first time in her adult life, comfort wasn't the point.

On top of the bag rested a small box of positively sinful perfume. She'd loved the earthy, seductive scent the moment she dabbed it on her wrist. When she got home, she'd dab it in other places.

Having sex with Pete had turned her into a carnal-minded monster. All she could think about was seeing him again. But for now, duty called.

Cassidy pulled into her parents' driveway, noting both cars. Good. She'd get this over with in one visit. Taking the walkway around to the side door, she entered the kitchen and caught her folks smooching. Some things, it seemed, never changed. In all the years they'd been married, her father continued to dote on her mother. As refined as he often seemed, he wasn't above cuddling.

Grinning, Cassidy said, "Knock-knock." Dressed in a lightweight summer dress and matching sandals, her mother looked chic and flustered. Her father just laughed and came to Cassidy for a hug. "Cass. What are you doing here?"

He always smelled of the same familiar aftershave, even on the weekends. Unlike most men in movies, books, and the ones she knew in real life, her dad was predictable in everything he did. Every single day, without fail, he got up at six. He exercised, drank coffee, and read the paper. He was dressed, shaved, and had eaten his breakfast by eight. He didn't fret over losing his hair, but he did fret over his family.

Today he wore a natty, short-sleeved oxford shirt tucked into dark trousers. She had never seen her dad in shorts. Even when he golfed.

With typical fatherly affection, he hugged Cassidy right off her feet.

Avoiding his question for just a moment more, Cassidy went to her mom and embraced her as well. "Hey," she said to her blushing mom, "if a man and wife can't make out in their kitchen, then I don't want to ever be married."

Her mother laughed. "Oh, stop."

"We just finished dinner, honey. Want me to warm something back up?"

"No, thanks, Dad, but I'll take some tea." While her father poured three glasses of sweet tea, her mother sat with her at the table. Cassidy waited for the comments on her hair, for them to notice and ask her why she'd done it. She had her reply all planned out, and Pete wasn't a part of it. But neither one even mentioned her hair. A little disappointed by their lack of reaction, Cassidy said, "Holly came to see me last night."

Her father set the tea in front of her and took his own chair. "That's nice. You girls don't get to visit enough anymore with you working so much and Holly in school."

"She, ah, had Duke with her."

Her mother let out a breath. "She really is hung up on that boy."

Cassidy nodded. "They're in love, Mom."

With a sound of annoyance, her father said, "She's twenty-two, Cass. She doesn't know what love is yet."

"Actually, I think she does." Because that wasn't what her parents wanted to hear, Cassidy chose her words carefully. "You'd have to see the way she looks at him to know what I mean. She's never looked at any of her other boyfriends like that. And Duke is wonderful to her. I know he's not who you would have wanted for her…"

"He hopes to be a professional athlete. That's the equivalent of a young man who dreams of becoming a cowboy. Most outgrow that fantasy."

Cassidy shrugged. "From what Duke told me, he has a good shot at it. I bet if you see them together you'll realize that Duke is a really nice guy—" Albeit a bore. "—and that he loves Holly, too. Isn't that the most important thing?"

The doubting expressions on her parents' faces didn't look promising.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Why don't we all get together?" Cassidy made the suggestion with a bright smile, trying to sound chipper about the idea. "You can get better acquainted with him."

"I want her to finish school."

Cassidy knew that stern tone only too well. "I know, Dad. And I think she will. But if you keep disparaging Duke, she might, just might do something stupid like marry him now."

Being a logical, levelheaded guy, her father reluctantly conceded. He turned to his wife. "Gina, what do you think?"

Her mother frowned in consideration. "We do have that benefit at the country club tomorrow."

"Perfect," her father exclaimed with a smile.

"No," Cassidy said at the same time. "I mean, that's a formal thing. I thought we could just get together at my place to grill out or something."

"But this would be the perfect opportunity to see Duke in a different setting. I've met the young man twice, not at length, but enough to know he might not have any great social skills off the field. Let's see if he'll do this for Holly," said her father.

Cassidy groaned. "But then that'll mean I have to dress up, too."

Her mother took her hand with a smile. "A painful prospect, for sure. I don't know why you shy away from dresses."

Because she looked and felt like a dolt in them.

Her mother wasn't above maternal bribery. "We need you there, Cassidy. Isn't that right, Frank?"

"Absolutely."

"You've always had such a good, sensible influence on Holly," her mother added.

Sensible. Right. What would they think if they knew she'd started a torrid affair with Pete? It might be worth telling them just to lose that hideous "sensible" label.

Cassidy pushed to her feet. "All right. I'll talk with Holly and set something up, then let you know." She kissed her mother's cheek, hugged her father again, and started out the door. But at the last second, she paused. "Mom, you know Holly is pretty smart. Just because she's beautiful doesn't mean she's lacking in brains."

Her dad laughed. "Honey, we know one asset doesn't rule out the other. Look at you." He winked. "Beautiful and smart."

Cassidy blinked at him.

"Holly's just young," her mother said. "We can't help but worry. About both of you."

Cassidy would have replied, but hearing herself referred to as "beautiful" put her in a stupor. She'd never thought of herself that way, and she wasn't sure she'd ever heard her father say it, either. Usually they harped on her brains, her common sense, and her determination.

She was still dazed when she stopped by the dorm to see Holly. Amazingly enough, her sister was in. Unusual for a Saturday night, but then Holly said they would be hooking up later.

Cassidy thought Holly would surely notice her hair, and again, she rehearsed how she'd explain the sudden attention to her appearance. But Holly just inquired as to why she was there, then started dancing in excitement at the idea of dressing up for a formal charity event. Holly, at least, loved the idea. But then Holly was a typical woman who adored spiffing up in her best duds.

Holly raced to the phone to call Duke, who agreed with no apparent hesitation at all, making Cassidy wonder if she was the only person on earth who detested formality.

Then she smiled. No, Pete hated it, too. And he suited her so much better than a businessman ever would.

Five

« ^ »

Cassidy assumed Pete was still out with his brothers when she got home. His car was in the drive, but his condo was dark and quiet. She hesitated, unwilling to look too desperate, then went next door and knocked.

No answer.

She was amazingly bummed by that, so much so that she gave herself a stern talking-to and marched her sorry butt into her own place. She had plenty to do before the evening anyway.

Oh God, what if he didn't come over that evening either? She'd only had sex with him once but was already suffering withdrawal. Her hands were shaking, for crying out loud. No, she wouldn't angst over it.

She threw her new undies into the wash on a delicate cycle. She always washed new clothes before wearing them, but especially underwear. These had to be line-dried instead of going into the dryer. What a pain. Pete was already affecting her life, making her too conscious of her sloppy appearance when it had never mattered to her before.

After the wash finished and she had the new items hung up to dry, she jumped in the shower. Lingering under the spray, Cassidy forced herself not to rush, not to listen for the phone or door. But the second she got out, she checked her answering machine, which showed a great big, fat "0" calls. She stuck her head out the front door, trying to see if Pete was home yet. He wasn't, and she wanted to smack herself.

Wearing only an enormous navy nightshirt, Cassidy paced around her condo. Later, when the panties were dry, she'd put on a pair just in case Pete did show up. In the meantime, she was making herself nuts.

Two hours later, she was propped in front of the television with a snack, oblivious to the movie she'd turned on. A tap sounded on her kitchen door.

She jumped—actually jumped—from her seat. Forcing herself to slow, Cassidy smoothed her hair, wiped the bread crumbs from her cheese sandwich off her shirt, and walked into the kitchen.

Pete stood there at her patio door, his hair damp from a recent shower and with a little too much sun on his face. He had one long, muscled arm above his head on the doorframe, the other stretched out to the side of the frame. He grinned when he saw her and just like that, Cassidy went weak in the knees and hot in secret places. Boy, she had it bad.

Unlocking the door, she slid it open and said, "Why do you always come to this door—umpff."

Pete had his mouth all over her, as if he'd missed her just as much. One of his hands held the back of her head, his long fingers wrapped around her skull, while his tongue stroked into her mouth, tasting her deeply. His other hand was at the small of her back, going lower and lower until he cupped her bottom and squeezed her in close.

"Damn, I've thought about your mouth all day. That was the most boring boat trip I've ever taken."

Cassidy licked her tingling lips and struggled to get her eyes open. "Yeah?"

"My brothers had endless comments to make. The lake was choppy. And chicks in bikinis kept flirting with us."

Cassidy shoved back with a frown. "Oh, and I just know you hated that."

Pete's grin widened. "You sound so snide." He caught her and pulled her close again. "With Gil and Sam both hitched, it was up to me to send the girls off with smiles."

"But you sent them all off?"

He chuckled outright. "Snide and suspicious. Of course I did. Now if you were in a bikini…"

"Right. I wouldn't be caught dead…"

"Did you do something to your hair?" He frowned, lifted a lock and ran his fingers down to the end. "It looks different. Shorter."

Ohhhh. He noticed. Cassidy felt her heart turn over in her chest at the same time she started blushing. No one had noticed—but Pete had. "I just got it trimmed," she mumbled.

"You lopped a lot off."

"Just a couple of inches."

Pete didn't comment, just kept examining it. Then the hand on her bottom shifted and he growled, "Are you wearing panties?"

Oops. She'd forgotten. Before Cassidy could stop herself, she glanced into the laundry room off her kitchen where the new underwear hung across a line. "I—"

Pete followed her gaze and his eyes darkened. "Well, what have we here?"

"Pete." She grabbed the waistband of his shorts when he started that way, and ended up dragged across the linoleum floor. "You leave my laundry alone."

Of course, he ignored that order. Cassidy went from embarrassed to mortified when Pete fingered the panties, examining the lace and silk. Then his gaze swung around to her lower body.

"You naked under that shirt, Cass?"

She backed up. The big-bad-wolf look on his face had her giggling nervously. "Maybe."

"I think you are." He released her underwear to stalk her. "Much as I'd like to see your sweet ass in those little bits of nothing, I think I'd just as soon see it bare."

She clutched the material of her nightshirt tight around her thighs. "Is that right?"

"Come here, Cass."

"No." She shook her head and giggled some more.

"You want me to chase you?" His gaze brightened. "I'm up to a few games if you are."

"No! I didn't mean—"

"Better run," he suggested. "Now."

His expression was so hot and intent, Cassidy didn't question him further. She just whipped around and fled. She felt Pete behind her, heard his big feet pounding on her floor, and her heart shot into her throat. She ran as fast as she could, and all the while she kept giggling hysterically like a ninny of a schoolgirl.

She darted behind the couch, squealed when Pete went over it, and dashed down the hall. He was toying with her, she realized, when his fingers brushed her bottom again and again but he didn't bother snagging her. Her open bedroom door offered the only escape, so she flew inside and tried to slam it shut, but Pete didn't give her a chance. She screamed in surprise when he surged in right behind her.

Backing up, breathing hard, Cassidy watched him.

Pete's wicked grin was full of promise. "Nowhere else to go, Cass. Now be a good girl and lift the shirt and let me see if you've got on underwear."

It was impossible to wipe the smile off her face. But at the same time, her heart beat so fast she thought she might faint. "You know I don't."

"Let me see."

The back of her knees hit the mattress, bringing her to a jarring halt. Slowly, feeling like a tease, she caught the hem of her shirt—then flashed it up and back down again.

Pete laughed. "That was too fast."

"It's all you get."

"Not even close." He advanced and Cassidy caught her breath. Slowly, he took the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up, up, until it rested above her naked breasts. Somehow she felt more bared than she would have without the shirt. "Hold it there."

Feeling light-headed again, Cassidy did as she was told.

Until Pete went down on one knee.

She whimpered. Whimpered. She wasn't even the whimpering type, but she'd heard the ridiculous sound come out of her throat … his fingers parted her, stifling all coherent thought.

A gasp, another whimper, then a soft groan. "Pete."

"I kept wondering," he said huskily, "if you really tasted as good as I remembered." With his fingertips still holding her open, he looked up at her. "You do."

And he must have meant it, given how much tasting he did for the next ten minutes. Cassidy's knees were shaking, her legs like noodles, when she finally called a halt. "I have to sit down."

"How about lying down instead?" Pete stood, tugged her shirt the rest of the way off, and began stripping his own clothes away. "I should see to you first," he said, while staring at her breasts, "because the way I'm feeling, this won't last long."

"I don't care." Cassidy couldn't wait a second more and went to work on his fly. She had his shorts off in a heartbeat. He was fully erect. Breath held, she cupped him in her hands and stroked the length of him, reveling in the velvet texture over tensile steel. She glanced at Pete's face, saw his eyes were closed, his jaw locked, and felt more powerful than she ever had in her life. "I want to taste you, too."

He ground his teeth a moment, then swallowed. Locking his dark gaze with hers, he murmured, "Be my guest."

It was Cassidy's turn to kneel, and she took her time, feeling him, playing with him. His thighs were rock hard, his big feet braced apart, his hands fisted at his sides.

She'd never done this, but she'd certainly read about it. Curling her fingers tight around the base of his erection, she brought him to her mouth and licked—slow, soft, wet.

Pete dropped his head back and groaned.

He was a little salty, very warm, and she liked it. A lot. Opening her mouth, Cassidy drew him in, moving her tongue, teasing, then sucking just a bit.

In a rough, hoarse voice, Pete said, "You're something of a tease, aren't you?"

"Mmmm." If it meant doing more of this, she thought she could be.

"Oh, hell," Pete complained around a broken laugh. "That's it. That's enough." He caught her shoulders and pulled her up. "It's been too long and my control is obliterated."

Cassidy felt herself hauled upright and said with some surprise, "But it was only this morning—"

"In the bed you go."

He was moving at Mach speed, not giving her time to think. "What about you?"

"I need to fetch the raincoat first. Trust me, I'll be right with you." Pete snatched up his shorts and dug through the pocket for his wallet. Waving one condom at her, he said, "After this, I'll head next door for reinforcements." He tore the package open and rolled the rubber on with ease, proving just how much experience he had at this sort of thing.

Cassidy didn't care. He was wonderful, a fabulous lover, and he'd noticed her haircut. She opened her arms to him.

There were few preliminaries this time. Pete settled between her legs and kissed her hungrily while cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples. Unlike the first time, he didn't drag out the foreplay. Within minutes he used his fingertips to open her. Cassidy felt the broad head of his penis pressing inside.

"Hold on to me, Cass," he told her. "This is going to be a rough ride."

Just hearing him say it thrilled her, and she wrapped her arms tight around him seconds before he lifted her hips and drove forward. They both gasped.

Around a groan, Pete said, "You feel so fucking good. Too good."

The power of his thrusts rocked the bed and had the springs squeaking rhythmically. Cassidy put her legs around him, gripped his shoulders, and gave herself over to the incredible sensations of physical pleasure and emotional fulfillment. God, she knew she loved Pete. Nothing else could explain why she both wanted to weep and laugh with joy. She did neither. As her climax approached, she tightened, moaned, cried out—and felt Pete join her with a resounding, husky groan.

Yep, she loved him.

Now what?

* * *

Pete didn't exactly mean to fall asleep with her. Staying over with a woman wasn't something he ever took for granted. It wasn't something he normally did, because it signified advancement in the relationship and there'd been only a few times he'd felt comfortable with that level of commitment. But after running back to his place to grab a box of rubbers, he'd returned to Cassidy and cajoled her into modeling her new underwear.

She was such a turn-on, blushing while wearing something so sexy, laughing at him while her eyes glowed with the same powerful lust he felt. He loved watching her come. He loved holding her. He just plain loved being with her.

All through the night, while she slept soundly in his arms, he was aware of her. He'd slept little, but then, he had a soft, naked woman beside him, and everything about her fascinated him.

He hated it that she'd cut her hair. What if it had been his teasing comment that prompted her to do it? Her hair was a big turn-on for Pete. Not styled, totally natural, totally female. Like Cassidy.

Sometime during her third screaming orgasm, Pete realized he loved her because of her naturalness. Strange, when usually the really polished women appealed to him. But his relationships with them had always been polished, too. Tidy, shiny, and very surface. He'd never harassed any of them or had them laugh at him. He'd never just been himself with them.

Cassidy murmured in her sleep and her fingers tightened in his chest hair. She'd kept a death grip on him all night. Pete liked that. It gave him hope that she felt just a modicum of the desperate need he experienced.

Carefully prying her hold loose, he lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. She stirred, but didn't quite awaken. He examined her small hand with the short and clean, unpainted nails. She wore no jewelry. Because she was asleep and wouldn't know, he rubbed her fingertips over his lips, his chin. They were a little callused, yet he thought Cassidy McClannahan was about the most feminine woman he'd ever known.

He brought her palm up and pressed it to his mouth.

"Pete?"

Her slumberous eyes were sexy as hell. Enticing. "I love touching you," he said before he could censor that L-word out. Then he decided, what the hell. "I love the way you feel and how you smell. And how you taste." He drew her finger into his mouth and curled his tongue around her, sucking lazily.

Eyes smoldering, Cassidy stared at his mouth while hers opened to accommodate her accelerated breaths. She pressed closer, her breasts flattening against his side, her thigh sliding across his boner with tantalizing effect.

Pete closed his eyes and licked his tongue down to the seam of her fingers, probing gently. Cassidy said, "Pete," with unmistakable yearning—and her phone rang.

At first, they both ignored it. Then a young woman's voice sang into the answering machine, "Hey, Cass. I wanted you to know that Duke and I are coming by your place tonight before the benefit. We figured we'd ride together so you won't be able to forget us. Again." She giggled, said something muffled to someone. "Duke said you should invite your mysterious boyfriend. It'll round out the night and give Mom and Dad someone to focus on besides him."

Jolted into frenzied motion, Cassidy shoved herself away from Pete and dove out of the bed. She stood there looking at him, the fingers he'd licked curled protectively against her naked chest. In a horrified whisper, she said, "That's my sister."

Thinking of strangling her, Pete narrowed his eyes. "She can't see us, Cass, and she can't hear you."

"I don't care." She turned her back on him, affording Pete a fine rear view. "I'm still embarrassed."

"Why?" Pete heard the phone disconnect and pushed himself up against the headboard, settling in for a confrontation. "Because you lied to me about your boyfriend?"

She whipped around so fast, her tangled hair flew out and her breasts jiggled. "I do not lie, damn you, and you owe me an apology."

Confusion swamped Pete. "Then what was your sister talking about?"

Cassidy scrubbed both hands over her face. "Duke and Holly came over the other day. Duke's an athlete and boring beyond belief, especially when he starts gabbing on about football, but Holly worships the ground he walks on. At one point I zoned out and Duke is hell-bent on believing I was mooning over a guy."

"Were you?"

She frowned and blushed at the same time. "Yeah, but he's not a … a boyfriend."

"Who is it?" Knowing she'd mooned over some guy put Pete in a killing mood.

The way she crossed her arms under her breasts plumped them up like an offering. She thrust her chin up, adding to Pete's suspicions. Then, taking the wind right out of him, she said, "You."

"Me?"

"I told you he wasn't a boyfriend." She paced away, came back. "Remember you said we were both thinking about sex? Well, I was. I suppose Duke knows the look and he wanted to tease me."

A queer little feeling settled into Pete's stomach. She'd been thinking about him. He really did need to get this all sorted out. "So Friday night, when you didn't ask me to dinner even though you had enough beef for four, and you didn't come over to watch the movie with me, it was because your sister and Duke were visiting?"

"The steaks were for them, yeah." She rolled one shoulder. "But I wouldn't have watched the movie with you anyway."

"Why not?"

Her look told him that should have been obvious. "Because I was already … well, lusting after you. I didn't want to put myself through that."

His damn heart ached. "I'm sorry."

She waited two seconds, then shrugged and scampered back into bed. "Trust me. You've made up for all my suffering."

Pete pulled her up to sit on his lap, arranging her so she faced him, her legs folded at either side of his hips. Holding her thighs, he asked, "Your sister insinuated that you'd forgotten about them?"

Wiggling her bottom, Cassidy grinned. "You sure you want to keep talking about this? I can think of better things—"

"Cass."

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "After all your teasing, I totally forgot about them coming over. I was on my way out the door when they showed up. I was going to go to the theater and see a cheesy movie and eat popcorn until I was sick, but I lied and told them I was going for dessert."

"Aha." Pete smiled widely. "I thought you didn't lie."

"I don't." She smoothed both hands over his chest, leaned down and kissed his nose. "Not to you."

She started to sit up again, but Pete pulled her back for a longer, more satisfying kiss, then allowed her to settle against him. The position was nice, with her knees drawn up by his hips, her belly flush against his. He smoothed his hands over her bottom, offered up so nicely. "So they were here alone in your place?"

"Yeah, why?"

Should he admit it? He grunted at himself. He wanted her to always be truthful with him, so he had to be truthful, too. "I think I heard them making whoopee."

Cassidy started in surprise, but Pete held her secure. "That's insane. Not in my home!"

"Afraid so. I heard a lot of sexy moaning."

"Oh, God." She covered her face.

"I assumed it was you."

Her head jerked up. "That's why you kept asking me who I was seeing?"

"Yep." Pete grinned, tightened his hold, and said, "But when you insisted you weren't seeing anyone, I assumed you were playing solitaire."

"Who moans over solitaire?"

His grin widened. "You misunderstand. I heard those moans, Cass. I thought you were … alone."

She still looked confused.

Sighing, Pete said, "I thought you were flying solo. Taking care of business. All alone."

In slow progression, confusion gave way to understanding and her eyes flared. "You thought—!"

"Yeah."

It was probably the toothy grin that got to her. She punched him. Hard. Groaning, Pete grabbed his ribs, then had to grab her to keep from getting another shot.

"Jerk!"

When he laughed, she tried to scamper away. Pete wrestled her down, making a point to let her come close to slipping away, again and again. He liked wrestling with Cassidy. The match finally ended when he got her flat on her back, used his knee to open her legs, and thrust inside her.

They both went still, breathing hard. Cassidy struggled to get her hands free, only to wrap them around his neck. "You win," she told him huskily.

Pete pressed his face into her shoulder. He wasn't wearing a rubber and no way in hell would he do that to her. "Promise me you won't move."

"But I want to move. I want you to move."

"I'm not wearing anything."

"Oh." She nudged his shoulder. "Well, go get something."

"In a second." Pete smoothed her beautiful hair away from her face. "So?"

"So what?"

Watching her expression, Pete pressed in a little tighter, making Cassidy inhale sharply. He knew he was playing with fire but he was willing to use whatever coercion he could.

"Can your mysterious boyfriend accompany you to the benefit?" Though the question sounded light, Pete's apprehension was so great, his lungs hurt. He couldn't recall anything mattering quite so much to him.

Cassidy froze. "It'll be boring."

"Maybe I'll liven it up a little." Shit. She probably didn't want that. He frowned and started to retract that statement when she smiled.

"That's what I was thinking the other night when Duke accused me of daydreaming about a guy. I kept thinking if you were there, it wouldn't be so bad."

Ah damn, now she had him feeling all mushy inside. Softly, he urged, "Then let me be there."

"It won't just be Duke and Holly tonight." She stared at his chin while chewing her bottom lip. "Mom and Dad are going to the benefit, too."

Every muscle in Pete's body drew so tight, he felt brittle. He wasn't good enough for June and Ward? "You're afraid I'll embarrass you."

"No!" She rushed to reassure him, then scowled. "How could you even think such a stupid thing?" Just as quickly, she softened. "Mom and Dad are great and I'm sure they'll like you."

"Then?"

She let out a long, grievous sigh. "It's a dressy thing. A formal event at the country club. Dad will probably break out his tux."

"I promise not to wear shorts." How he'd find something appropriate on such short notice, he didn't know. Gil would probably have a variety of tuxes in his wardrobe, though, and they were about the same size…

Cassidy was laughing. "I wish we could both wear shorts. I'd sure be more comfortable in them." She sighed, then said, "If I invite you along tonight, will you please get a damn condom?"

At least she wanted him sexually. As Sam and Gil had assured him, he could work from there. And he'd start right now. He'd take her five ways to Sunday, make her scream, beg. He'd devastate her with pleasure. "Yes, ma'am. Be right back."

But as Pete finished rolling on the condom, Cassidy said, "I have, you know."

He turned to face her. She was sprawled in the bed, sleekly muscled, strong in ways that only a woman could be. Damn, he adored her. "Have what?"

"Thought of you."

"Yeah?" He stretched out next to her.

"While flying solo, I mean."

Pete's heart all but stopped. Well, hell. He looked at her, knew he was lost, and fell on her like a starving man. Later. He'd devastate her later. For now, he just had to have her.

Six

« ^ »

She still couldn't believe Pete wanted a date with her and her family. Didn't that signify … something?

Since he left early that afternoon, she used the remainder of the day to buy new pantyhose—a chore that made her grimace—and while she was out, she decided to have her hair trimmed a little more. Not just because Pete noticed, she assured herself, but because she'd like it.

By the time the beautician finished, her once witchy, waist-length hair now hung to just below her shoulder blades. Still long, but much tidier and more manageable.

Cassidy located her one and only black dress at the back of her closet. She removed the dry cleaning bag and tugged it on over her head. It was a simple dress with sleeves, a high, round neckline, and a straight fit that fell to just below her knees.

It was … comfortable.

Seeing herself in the mirror was almost depressing. Give her a scythe and a hood and she'd pass for Death. Cassidy groaned and dug out her black heeled pumps. They didn't help. Now she looked like a cross-dressing Death.

To make matters worse, Pete knocked on her door before she had time to consider any alternatives. Not that she had any, owning only that one black dress. It'd have to do. She hoped Pete wouldn't turn tail and run when he saw what a formal misfit she was.

For once, he came to her front door, and when Cassidy opened it, she almost fell over.

Pete wore a tux.

Her gaze traveled all over him and still she couldn't take it in. All spiffed up, he didn't even look like Pete. He looked good, no two ways around that. Just … different, not her Pete anymore.

And she'd once thought she wanted a guy who wore suits? How stupid.

He was busy fiddling with a black tie. "I'm lousy at this crap. Never done it enough, I guess. Can you help?" He looked up then and got caught. A frown pulled down his brows and Cassidy waited for him to question her choice of dress.

"You cut your hair again?"

Whoa. No mention of her black tent? She cleared her throat. "Technically, the beautician did."

He forgot all about his tie. Releasing the tie so it fell to his chest, he propped his hands on his hips and glared. "Why the hell do you keep cutting it?"

Beyond Pete, Cassidy saw her mother and father pull up to the curb, and behind them, Duke and Holly. Oh boy. Let the fun begin.

Oblivious to their audience, Pete caught her shoulders to regain her attention, then moved her back so he could step in. "I like it long, Cassidy."

"It's still long." Nervously, Cassidy watched as her family plus Duke approached, all of them very attentive. Her parents had expected to deal with one nonconforming boyfriend. Now they were faced with two.

"Not as long as it used to be." Pete looked bedeviled, then blurted, "Was it something I said? Because if it was, forget it. I love your hair."

"No." Cassidy tried to quickly explain that her parents were right behind him. "Uh, Pete…"

He wrapped his hands in her hair, crushing fists full as if savoring it. "I don't want you changing on me, Cass. I adore you just as you are."

Her mouth fell open.

Pete stepped closer. "I adore you enough to get into this damn monkey suit to impress Ward and June—though God knows I have no idea about this stupid tie, so you're going to have to help me with it."

From behind Pete, Duke said, "I can do that if you like."

Pete turned, saw the crowd, and gave a sheepish grin. Both Duke and her father wore tuxes, and to Cassidy's surprise, Duke looked very comfortable in his.

"Let me see," Pete said. "You must be Duke, because you're definitely not Ward."

"Right in one." The two men shared a hardy handshake.

"And this has to be Cassidy's pretty little sister, Holly."

Holly twittered a laugh. "That's me," she said, then realized she'd just complimented herself and blushed.

Pete cleared his throat and faced her father. "And you must be—"

Fighting a grin, her father stuck out his hand. "Not Ward."

Pete winced. "Sorry. I was just, uh…"

"Going by Cassidy's description? She's told me that before, too. Where she sees a resemblance, I'll never know."

Relaxing at the easy banter, Pete accepted his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. McClannahan."

"Anyone who adores my daughter has to call me Frank. And this is my wife, Gina."

The obligatory greetings were performed without Cassidy's help. She sank back against the wall and closed her eyes. Pete said he adored her and everyone had heard. He'd noticed her hair again when no one else did. And he didn't notice her hideous dress, even though both her mother and Holly were there, providing awesome comparisons.

Her mother said, "Cassidy, he's right. You've done something to your hair."

"Twice," Pete pointed out.

"It looks lovely," Gina said, earning a frown from Pete, and when Holly agreed, he looked ready to fume.

Duke stretched out his massive arms to include everyone and herded them inside. "Why don't we move this indoors? We have a little time before the benefit starts."

Cassidy remembered the purpose of this blighted soiree and launched into compliments aimed at Duke. He kept Holly at his side while reciprocating. "I usually only dress up for weddings and funerals. But considering how much time I spend in sweaty jerseys, I like to trade up every now and then."

Near Cassidy's ear, Pete murmured, "This feels like the latter."

She shushed him. "Mom, Duke has the record for touchdowns at his college. Isn't that impressive?"

"Very," Gina said.

Duke pulled Pete around and began knotting his tie. "Thanks. I was pretty pleased about it."

Holly beamed at everyone. "He also made the dean's list."

Frank gave his attention. "Excellent. What's your major?"

With the tie finished, Duke threw his arm around Pete's shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. "Business. If I don't make it in football, I'd like to open my own sporting goods store. Maybe build up to a chain."

"Good plan," Pete said, then scowled when he noticed Cassidy was staring at Duke.

The differences in the two men hit Cassidy. Both were big and strong, but next to Duke, Pete looked leaner, more refined. Definitely more handsome—but then, that was just Cassidy's opinion. Holly, apparently, felt just the opposite.

Because Pete kept giving her odd looks, Cassidy said, "I'll put on a pot of coffee." She ducked out of the room, anxious for a moment to herself. Pete had said he adored her. It wasn't love, but it was better than a quick fling. Maybe she could build on that.

She had her back to the kitchen entrance, waiting for the coffee to finish, when warm male hands slid around her waist. Pete's scent enveloped her, so warm and familiar. Curse the stupid benefit—she'd rather lose their clothes and cuddle in bed.

Next to her ear, Pete rasped, "Why the hell do you keep staring at Duke?"

Did he sound jealous? No, that was absurd. Because she wasn't about to tell Pete that she'd been comparing them, she shrugged. "He looks different in a suit. Nice." She twisted around to face him. "My parents will be pleased."

"He doesn't normally wear a suit."

"What an understatement. Duke is a jock through and through. But that business degree surprised my parents." She smiled. "I think old Duke is full of surprises."

"You like him?"

She realized she did. How could she not like Duke when he was so good to her sister? "You know, I really do. He's not flighty like I thought. He's got a plan, and a backup plan. And he's going after what he wants."

Pete groaned, then tucked his face against her neck. "You know, Cassidy," he murmured, and she could feel his lips on her skin, "I was thinking there were a few things—just small things—that you could possibly change about yourself. What do you think?"

Heat rushed into her face. "The dress is awful, I know."

Pete straightened. "What?"

Holding out the sides of the hideous tent, she repeated, "This dress. But it's the only black thing I own."

Confused, Pete shook his head. "I like you better in shorts, sure, but you look great no matter what you wear." He smoothed his hands up and down her sides. "You're such a goal-oriented person."

What that had to do with her dress, Cassidy didn't know. "Sensible Cassidy, that's me."

"Sleeping with me wasn't all that sensible. You told me so yourself."

"I've changed my mind on that. Sleeping with you is one of the best decisions I've ever made."

"Yeah?" He started to grin.

From behind them, her father said, "Well, I think we can segue right into good-byes."

Cassidy gasped, Pete turned, and they both saw that it wasn't just her father standing there. Her mother, Holly, and Duke were all within earshot. Well, hell. Couldn't they have made a little noise? Cleared a throat? Whistled?

Without missing a beat, Pete asked, "Is it time to go already?"

Frank stepped into the kitchen. "For us, yes. But my daughter looks tortured at the moment, so perhaps she'd like to skip it."

All eyes turned to Cassidy. She wanted to shrink in on herself. "Uh, no. I'm all right. Really. I can—"

Duke smiled. "We're getting along fine, Cassidy. You don't need to run interference, though Holly and I both appreciate the effort."

Gina hooked her arm through Frank's. "It's not that we don't want your company, but I think Pete has a few more things to say." Gina turned to Pete. "Cassidy has always been an overachieving tomboy. Put her in a dress and she's miserable. She'll be happier staying here and, ah, working things out with you."

Cassidy groaned. Her mother's attempts at matchmaking weren't all that subtle.

Her father sent her a fond look. "My sensible Cassidy. She'll have things squared away in no time."

Just what was she supposed to square away? Pete?

Pete left the ball in her court. "Whatever you want to do is okay by me, Cass."

No way did she want to go, but she'd feel guilty if she didn't. "You've already rented the tux…"

"Naw. I borrowed from Gil." Pete flashed her a grin.

"Then it's all settled," her mother said before Cassidy could reply. Behind Pete's back, Gina gave Cassidy the thumbs-up. "We can see ourselves out. Have a nice night, kids."

Her family managed a mass exodus in record time, leaving a heavy silence behind.

Pete zeroed in on Cassidy. "About that dress."

He looked so intent, she started to fidget. "Horrible, huh?"

"Let's get it off you."

So he wanted to head straight to bed? Did he intend to just skip past everything else that had been said? Would he now ignore his statement about adoring her? "In a hurry, are you?"

Pete nodded. "If you strip, I can, too."

Relief sent a grin across her face. Slowly, she pulled the knot from his tie and opened the top button of his dress shirt. "Poor baby. You're really uncomfortable in this suit." Almost as uncomfortable as she was in the dress. Of course, Pete looked delicious, while she didn't.

"Yeah, but for the right incentive I can suffer through anything." The way he said that left no confusion: he considered her the right incentive.

Using the tie like a leash, Cassidy led him down the hall to her bedroom. Her heart beat fast in anticipation. "Then by all means, let's get you out of it."

He followed along willingly enough, but as Cassidy closed her bedroom door, he said, "About those changes I mentioned…"

Did he have to keep harping on that? To distract him she pushed the coat off his shoulders and finished unbuttoning his shirt. "Let's get this off you."

"But I wanted to talk."

"We'll talk in bed." She reached for his belt, and Pete gave up with a groan. The dress pants came off easier than his stiff jeans, and in no time, Cassidy had him buck naked. He looked so gorgeous, and for the moment, he was hers.

Remembering how he'd teased her earlier, chasing her and wrestling with her, Cassidy decided to get back a little of her own. She picked up the length of black tie and beckoned Pete into bed.

His dark eyes glittered. "What are you going to do?"

"Just have a little fun." She patted the mattress. "Put your sexy self right here while I lose my dress."

"Now, there's an idea." With no sign of modesty, Pete stretched out on her bed, his arms folded behind his head, one leg bent. "Go ahead. I'm ready."

Man, he looked good on her sheets. Sighing, Cassidy said, "No you aren't. Not yet." She went to the bed and looped the tie once, twice around his erection. "Leave that right there for a moment."

Eyes wide, Pete stared down at his decorated penis. "Uh, Cass…"

After kicking off her pumps, she reached beneath her dress and stripped off the strangling pantyhose. Forgetting the tie, Pete gave her his undivided attention.

Cassidy smiled, pulled her dress up, over her head, and tossed it aside. Now that it was gone, she felt better. She'd burn that thing before she wore it again. Now she stood in front of Pete in her new underwear, and judging by his expression, he liked what he saw.

Striking a pose, Cassidy asked, "Is this the kind of change you mean?"

Pete's gaze was glued to her belly. "What?"

"You want me to change. Does the sexier underwear help?"

As if someone had doused him in ice water, Pete shot upright on the bed. Furious, he growled, "I do not want you to change!" Then almost as an afterthought, he said with less heat, "I like the panties, though."

Cassidy propped her hands on her hips. "You said I could change a few things."

He groused and grumbled his way out of the bed to tower over her. The tie remained looped around his penis, the long ends dangling down. Cassidy pursed her mouth to keep from snickering.

Pete didn't even seem to notice. "Not your hair or your clothes." His vehemence made the tie shiver. "Not anything that's you."

Cassidy stepped closer and smiled up at him. "That doesn't make any sense, Pete."

He ran a hand over his head, drew a huge breath, and blurted, "I love you, Cassidy McClannahan."

That statement, sort of falling out of nowhere, rendered them both mute. Pete scrutinized her, waiting. All Cassidy could do was stare. She tried to reply, but nothing would come out of her throat. He loved her. Tears threatened.

Seeing that, Pete groaned. "Ah, damn it, Cass, please don't cry."

No, she wouldn't. She sniffed, took several necessary breaths, and licked her very dry lips. "So … you love me?"

"I do."

He sounded almost wrecked about it. Here he was, the most gorgeous, wonderful, impossible man she knew, in her bedroom, wearing a most unconventional black tie, declaring himself and looking morose about it. Cassidy covered her mouth but she couldn't stifle her euphoric giggle.

Pete's eyes narrowed. "You aren't going to cry now?"

She shook her head. "No." And she smiled.

Clearing his throat, Pete said, "Good." He propped his hands on his hips and took an arrogant stance as if he didn't have a black tie embracing his manhood. "So do you think you could change your mind about wanting a guy in a suit?"

She wanted him. "Maybe. What do you have in mind?"

Pete rubbed the back of his neck. "I did some thinking today. I'm going to get my teaching degree. I only need a few credits—"

Excitement shot through her and Cassidy threw herself into his arms. "Pete! That's wonderful. I've always known you'd make a great teacher."

Pete held her away. "A gym teacher, Cass. No suits."

"Yeah, so?"

Exasperated, Pete shook her. "You want a black tie kinda guy. You told me so, remember?"

Feeling very impish, Cassidy pointed out, "You're wearing a black tie right now."

His expression was comical. He looked down and said, "Damn. I forgot." He reached for the tie but Cassidy caught his hands.

"I love you, too, Pete. Just the way you are. I can be myself with you. If you were a guy like my dad, then I'd need to be a woman like my mom, and I'm not."

"You're beautiful."

Oh, see, how could she not love him? Ready to swoon, she said, "I'm glad you think so."

Pete bent his head and kissed her, long, deep, and the next thing Cassidy knew, they were on the bed. With a little maneuvering, Pete got between her thighs and then she felt the head of his erection pressing in. "I need you, Cass."

"Yes."

He pushed her hair away from her face. "I don't have anything with me."

"Will you marry me?"

He grinned. "That was my next question to you."

"Yes."

"Good." He pressed in, the friction incredible, the pleasure complete. They both groaned. "Do you want a big wedding?"

"My mother will insist."

Pete quickened his strokes. "All right." His arms tightened, holding her closer. "I guess I can borrow Gil's tux again."

"Whatever."

"You want kids?"

"Sure." She barely knew what she was saying, but she knew she loved him and didn't want him to pull away. Not now. Not ever.

"Me, too."

"Pete?"

"Yeah?"

She wrapped her legs around him and arched her back. On a gasp, she said, "Shut up."

"Yeah." Pete slid his hands down her back to her hips and lifted. The position pressed his chest closer to her breasts, abrading her already stiffened nipples. Cassidy cried out at the onset of release.

"I love you," Pete told her again, and that did it. She came, squeezing him tight, moaning and shivering. And just as the wild contractions ended, Pete went taut over her, grinding out his own orgasm. Cassidy knew she could end up pregnant, but it didn't worry her. She was twenty-seven, on track with her career, and now ahead of the game with love.

Pete slumped against her, boneless and breathing fast and hard, giving her all his weight. But she didn't mind. Not at all. In fact… "Pete?"

He grunted.

Hugging him, Cassidy said, "I love you in your jeans. And you're pretty loveable naked."

He puckered up enough to press a kiss to her shoulder, then went limp again.

Cassidy caressed the long length of his strong back. "But Pete," she whispered, still a little in awe and more than willing to tease, "the way you wear a black tie is phenomenal."

Two seconds passed before Pete stiffened and shoved himself off her. "Oh, hell." He stared down at his lap where the mangled black tie was crushed. "I think it's ruined."

Cassidy started laughing and couldn't stop. "You think?"

He tugged it loose and dropped it over the side of the bed. "I'm going to have to buy Gil a new one."

"Maybe we'll buy ten."

"Ten? Why?"

So happy she was ready to burst with it, Cassidy said, "I've decided I like the effect black ties have on you."

Slowly, Pete grinned. "Fine by me. As long as I don't have to wear the suit with it."

* * * * *