Best Friends With the Billionaire (The Rochesters) (5 page)

“What’s his name?” Kirk asked, a frown hovering on his brow. “How long were you together?”

Her brain raced to catch up with the tale she was spinning. “Oh, his name’s Russell, and we were together about a year.”

“Russell?”

She picked up the yellow-and-green sweater lying at the top of her suitcase. “He bought this for me.” It was true. Russell, although not her ex-boyfriend, had bought her the rugby jumper for Christmas.

Kirk’s gaze flicked over the sweater then returned to her face. He looked like a prosecutor about to cross examine a hostile witness. “Tell me more about this Russell.”

“He’s tall and handsome, and he has an awesome body because he plays rugby.”

“Rugby?”

“Yes, you know rugby. It’s like American football, except it’s not. Russell has the cutest Australian accent, and he looks a bit like Hugh Jackman. You know, Wolverine.”

“Wolverine.” Kirk folded his arms, the shirt stretching tight over his solid biceps. “He looks like Wolverine, does he?”

“Uh-huh.”

She could blather on like this forever, because everything she said was true. Russell
was
a tall, handsome, rugby-playing Australian she’d known for over a year. The only lie was that they had been more than friends. But Kirk didn’t need to know that. He looked put out, and that set something dancing inside her. Maybe, for the first time ever, Kirk was regarding her as a real woman, a woman whom other men pursued.

“He sounds like a prince,” Kirk said, still seeming annoyed. “Why did you break up with him?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something didn’t feel right, I guess.”

“You don’t seem too upset.”

She shook the creases out of the sweater, trying to appear nonchalant. “Plenty of fish in the sea. You know that better than anyone.”

“Yeah, sure.” For a moment Kirk seemed uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “He didn’t hurt you badly, did he? This Russell?”

“No.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but her face couldn’t keep up with her lies, and her stretched lips felt more like a grimace.

Kirk regarded her for a while before saying, “I’ll let you get settled in, then.” He turned to leave then paused at the door. “Good night, Cassie. I’m glad you’re staying here.”

His soft words made her knees tremble. “I’m glad, too,” she murmured.

When she was alone, she picked at the sweater in her hands, wondering if she’d made the right decision moving into Kirk’s house. Nine years had passed, and she was back where she started, occupying a room down the hall from Kirk’s. She’d lost her naive, sophomore heart to him, and secretly died inside each time he hooked up with a girl, though thank God he hadn’t brought many of them back to his room in their share house.

Now, she was older and tougher. Now, she had an opportunity to get over her unrequited crush, or to risk everything and ask him for more. Now, she might get what she’d always wanted, or have her heart broken all over again.

…

Kirk lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why he felt on edge. He’d gotten what he’d wanted. He’d managed to discourage Shawna without insulting her, and he had Cassie staying with him. Now that she was here, he realized how much he’d missed her. She was still his best friend, though they’d drifted apart in recent years. But he was going to make it up to her. They were going to hang out together and it would be like the old days. The old, uncomplicated days when he could relax with her in a way he couldn’t with his other buddies. Cassie didn’t demand or expect anything from him; she was always happy to see him, and always good company—funny and smart and natural. With her, he could forget he was an in-demand Rochester and just be himself.

But Cassie wasn’t exactly like she’d been in the old days. She was more confident now. Maybe because she’d dated a man who looked like Wolverine. Christ, he hadn’t seen that coming. Cassie had changed, but hadn’t they all?

These days everyone thought he was a raging tomcat, but nobody seemed to notice he’d stopped catting around several months ago. Sometimes he was ashamed of his man-whoring days; he’d done it out of desperation, loneliness, and all it had accomplished was make him feel even lonelier and emptier. Like when he was married to Alison.

Relationships weren’t for him; he knew that now. Some people weren’t made for coupledom, and he was one of them. He’d learned that the hard way and come to the conclusion that friendship was more important than falling in love—or rather, believing that you’d fallen in love. Friendship could endure far more and far longer than affairs of the heart.

He’d take friendship over love any day.

Then why did the thought of Cassie and her Wolverine boyfriend make his gut tighten? Why did his hands clench when he imagined her kissing that guy? Shit, was this what jealousy felt like? He hauled in a deep breath and forced his hands to relax. He wasn’t jealous of Cassie’s
ex
-boyfriend, because he was her friend. Her best friend, and that was better than being her boyfriend.

Wasn’t it?

Chapter Three

“She’ll have to wear flat-heeled shoes.”

“And make sure her hair isn’t up and doesn’t have any flowers in it.”

“And of course she must be on the sides for all the group photos or she’ll unbalance the whole composition.”

Cassie kept her hands pressed together on her lap as her mom, sister, and the wedding planner pondered the problem of how to disguise her as much as possible on the wedding day. “Why don’t you just put a sack over my head?” she wanted to blurt. But she kept her mouth shut. She’d promised herself she’d be on her best behavior today. It was an honor to be her sister’s bridesmaid, and she wanted to get along with her family.

“Mark, who’s your tallest groomsman?” Lillian turned to her fiancé, who sat patiently next to Cassie on a pink heart-shaped couch at the back of the wedding planner’s office.

“Probably Brad,” Mark said. “I think he’s around six feet.”

“Can he wear lifts in his shoes? So he appears taller than Cassie?”

“Uh, sure.” As Lillian’s attention shifted back to the wedding planner, Mark leaned toward Cassie and muttered, “Sorry about this. Brad’s a nice guy, honest.”

“No need to apologize.” Cassie grinned. “You forget I grew up with Lillian and my mom.”

She’d met Mark for the first time over the weekend and was surprised to find him a really nice guy. He was an up-and-coming young lawyer working for one of the best firms in the city, and he bore a passing resemblance to Cassie’s late father, prompting Cassie to wonder if Lillian was subconsciously following in their mother’s footsteps in every way possible.

“I’m surprised you could get time off work to come to this meeting,” Cassie said to Mark. She didn’t see why his presence was required at the wedding planner’s. Lillian, with her mother’s input, made most of the decisions, and Mark went along with whatever she wanted.

“I like spending time with Lillian,” Mark said, “even if we have to discuss almond bonbons.”

Wow, he must really love Lillian. Cassie glanced at her sister, who was huddled up with Audrey around the wedding planner’s desk. Did Lillian realize how lucky she was? No, she probably didn’t. She took everything for granted, including her devoted fiancé.

“She’s not even discussing almond bonbons with you now,” Cassie pointed out.

Mark shrugged and lifted his cell phone. “Oh well. That gives me time to watch the highlights of yesterday’s Giants’ game.”

“They’re having a good season so far, aren’t they?” Cassie craned her neck to get a better view of his phone.

“You like baseball?” Mark looked surprised and pleased.

“I like sports, yeah. I played hockey and basketball in college.”

“The Giants are playing at home this coming weekend,” Mark said eagerly. “We should go to the game.”

“Baseball this weekend?” Lillian stood, her hearing uncanny. “Have you forgotten your bachelor party in Vegas?”

“Oh, yeah, Vegas. Sorry, honey.”

Lillian turned to Cassie. “And there’s my bachelorette party, remember? We’ve rented a house down in Carmel for the weekend. All my friends and bridesmaids are coming, you included.”

Fan-frigging-tastic. Cassie sighed inwardly. That’s all she needed, a weekend away with Lillian’s sorority sisters. She could imagine what was in store for her—endless shopping, wine tasting, girl gossip…hell, maybe even a male stripper. If she could choose, she’d much rather go to Vegas with Mark and his friends, although she’d skip the gentlemen’s club visits, of course.

Cassie pasted a smile on her face. “Carmel? Sounds great.”

The wedding planner rose from her desk and approached Cassie with a notepad and pen in her hands. “Audrey tells me you’re staying with a friend now. I need your address in case I have to courier anything urgent.” She waited expectantly, pen poised above her notepad.

Reluctantly, Cassie gave her Kirk’s address, aware how her mother would react.

“Pacific Heights?” Audrey said right on cue. “That’s a rather upmarket address. Who’s this friend of yours?”

“I told you, someone I met in college.”

“Yes, but who? It’s a man, right? What’s his name?”

Last night she hadn’t told her about Kirk, because she was upset about her mom showing her the door, but she’d regained her equilibrium since then. She’d told herself this was the start of a new relationship with her family. Kirk was important to her, so why did she need to lie about him?

“His name’s Kirk Rochester,” she said in a neutral voice.

Her mother blinked at her. “Kirk… Not Kirk Rochester of
the
Rochester family? Surely you don’t mean
him
?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” Cassie said airily. “I’ve known him since college.”

Audrey’s lips moved but no sound came out. Lillian pushed Mark aside so she could sit next to Cassie.

“You’re staying with Kirk Rochester in his Pacific Heights house?” She let out a weak, disbelieving laugh, her eyes goggling like Cookie Monster. “You can’t be dating him?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Cassie sighed. “We’ve been friends since college.”

“But why didn’t you ever tell me?” Audrey squeaked in equal parts astonishment and indignation. “You’re friends with one of the Rochesters, and you’ve never seen fit to mention that to me?”

“Because I knew how you’d react—like you are now. It’s no big deal that he’s one of the Rochesters. So what if he’s rich and well-connected? It’s not important.” Even as Cassie spoke, she knew she couldn’t stave off her mom’s inevitable reaction.

“Not important!” Audrey’s perfectly arched eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. She grabbed Cassie’s hand. “You have to bring him over for dinner. Tomorrow night. I insist.”

Cassie’s heart sank as she sensed the cogs spinning in her mother’s head. “Since when have you ever wanted me to bring my friends home for dinner?”

“You’ve never told me about any of your friends.”

Because I didn’t want you to spoil things for me
. But she swallowed down the childish words.

“Kirk’s a very busy man,” she replied. “I don’t know if he has the time.” And she’d rather spend the evening with Kirk doing something fun than take him to her mom’s for dinner, which definitely would not be fun or relaxing.

“You could at least ask him,” Audrey said. “If he’s not free tomorrow night, any other night will be fine by me.”

She wasn’t going to give up. “He’s not in the market for an interior decorator, Mom.”

Audrey drew herself up, looking very put out. “As if I’d embarrass myself and you by touting for business over a first dinner. I simply want to meet your college friend, Cassie. That’s all.”

Well, that wasn’t all, and everyone knew it. But this was the first time her mom had ever shown any interest in her friends, so that had to count for something.

“Okay.” Cassie shrugged. “I’ll ask him, but don’t hold your breath.”

“Of course not. Whatever he decides is fine.” But Cassie could see her mom was already drawing up menus in her head.

…

“You don’t have to go. In fact, you’d be doing me a favor if you said no.”

Kirk gave the pot of Bolognese sauce another stir before glancing at Cassie. “Tomorrow night? Sure, I’ll go.”

“No, really, you’re not obligated.”

“I heard you.” He picked up the boiling pot of pasta and then dumped the contents into the colander waiting in the sink. “I want to meet your mom and sister. Will her fiancé be there, too?”

“I’m betting my mom and Lillian will drag him there,” she said gloomily. She filched a strand of pasta, blew on it, and then popped it into her mouth.

“Why did you never tell your mom about me back in college?”

“I wasn’t talking to her, remember? I was going through my up-yours-Mom phase, which she likes to refer to as my butch phase. I think she would’ve preferred I were lesbian. That, at least, would’ve given her some cachet.”

Kirk playfully tugged at her ponytail. “Are you sure you’re over that up-yours-Mom phase?”

Her nape tingled where his knuckles had brushed her skin. “I’m trying. I’m trying so hard.”

He piled pasta and Bolognese sauce onto two plates. “So take me home for dinner tomorrow and earn a few brownie points with her.”

“You’d do that? For me?”

“Sure. What are friends for?”

He was being nice. Too nice. It was bad for her heart to have him so accommodating and empathetic. Still, she’d done as her mother had asked, and Kirk had said yes, despite her protests.

“Fine.” She sighed. “But don’t blame me if the dinner bores the pants off you.”

“I’ll remember to wear a belt, then.”

Her attention drifted below his waist. Kirk had come home from the office in his smart gray business suit, shrugged off his jacket, and instantly got to work in the kitchen. The fine woolen trousers hugged his slim waist and hips, emphasized the muscular heft of his thighs. Hmm, what
would
it take to get those pants off him? Her attention moved to his upper body. His rolled-up sleeves revealed tanned, muscled forearms dusted with fine dark hairs. He’d pulled off his tie and undone the top buttons of his white business shirt. The urge to run her hand over his chest hit her in a hot rush, and she sucked in a breath.
Cool down
.

Kirk pushed one of the plates across the marbled granite countertop toward her. “Here. Tell me if I’ve still got my magic touch with spaghetti Bolognese.”

“I can eat only half of this,” she said, pointing to her heaped plate.

“What? I thought you were allowed five hundred calories for dinner.”

“I promised my mom I’d try to eat less, no matter the calories.” She sure as hell didn’t want Lillian complaining about her back fat on the day of the wedding.

His gaze traveled over her. “You look just fine to me.”

Her toes curled. She wasn’t used to Kirk assessing her, and she wasn’t sure how to take his verdict. “Just fine” sounded like faint praise. But then, she’d never purposely dressed to attract his attention. Maybe one day she would, when she had the courage.

She picked up a fork and divided her food into two halves. “‘Just fine’ doesn’t cut it with my sister. I don’t want to ruin her wedding photos.” She tipped one half of her dinner into a Tupperware container then cast a doleful look at the small remainder on her plate. Her stomach would be growling by eleven tonight.

They sat side by side at the kitchen counter and began their meal.

“Mmm…” Cassie groaned in appreciation after her first mouthful. “This is amazing.”

She glanced up. Kirk’s eyes had narrowed on her as if he found something fascinating about her expression. “Amazing, huh?”

She swallowed. “You’ve definitely still got your magic touch.”

Kirk had the magic touch with everything. When she was with him, the sun shone brighter, jokes sounded funnier, even sad songs were sadder because she was with him. He sharpened the flavors in her life, deepened all her sensations, enhanced every experience. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was about him that did this to her. Maybe it was a unique combination of his sexiness, his drive, his simmering alphaness, which was always present even when he was goofing off.

“I admit I have an ulterior motive for going to your mom’s dinner,” Kirk said.

“And what’s that?”

“I’m taking Hank Parnell and his daughter to dinner Thursday night, and I need you to accompany me.”

Cassie set her fork down. “As your fake girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “We’re going to Rawlins, so you might want to, uh, dress up.”

Her toes curled again as embarrassment seeped through her. What was he implying? That she had to raise her game if he was taking her to a swanky restaurant like Rawlins?

“Sure, I can do that.” She twirled some pasta around her fork, her appetite ebbing.

“If you need to buy anything, you can borrow my credit card.”

She nearly dropped her fork and it clattered against her plate. “Borrow your credit card! Why on earth would I do that?”

Kirk met her stare, unfazed by her outburst. “Because I can afford it.”

“We’re
friends
,” she hissed. “I can’t let you buy me anything.”

“Jesus, why are you getting so riled up? You’re going to this dinner for my benefit, so why shouldn’t I pay for things you wouldn’t normally buy for yourself?”

Oh, where did she begin, when there was so much about what he’d said to get mad at? He wanted her to be all tarted up for this important dinner, and he assumed she didn’t have anything remotely acceptable, and that she needed heaps of money—
his
money—to get herself up to scratch as his fake girlfriend.

She hauled in some air as she battled to stay calm. Well, she supposed he’d never seen her glammed up, and since she’d been back, she’d been running around in jeans most of the time. Also, although she’d come to enjoy dressing up on occasion, she’d never taken it to the lengths of the women Kirk had dated. If she wanted to make Shawna Parnell believe she was Kirk’s girlfriend, then she’d have to pull out all the stops. She could do that. Come Thursday night, Kirk would be in for a surprise. A good one, she hoped. Maybe, if she pulled it off, he might start seeing her as a desirable woman, and his feelings for her might progress from friendship.

“You’re right,” she said to Kirk. “You should pay, but I won’t let you. Whatever I need, I can buy myself. I’m earning a good salary these days. I don’t need to mooch off you.”

Kirk grimaced. “If I were Joe Blow from Oakland, you’d be happy to use my credit card. You’re refusing only because I happen to be loaded and you’re determined to keep money out of our friendship. It’s a kind of reverse discrimination.”

She pondered over his words. “Maybe,” she replied, “but I thought you’d be glad about that.”

“Ordinarily, yes. Too often I wonder if people are friendly to me because of my money.” He leaned toward her. “But I’ve never wondered that about you. Not once, ever.”

Cassie warmed with pleasure. This was the first time they’d ever discussed Kirk’s wealth and how it affected him.

“I’m glad,” she said. “Money can come between friends, especially if one has so much and the other doesn’t. But since you chose to ignore it, I ignored it, too.”