Mad About You (6 page)

Cassy’s eyes narrowed. There were funny undercurrents here that she didn’t understand. “Anyway,” she said, getting back to her story. “That’s what happened to Scott and me. He asked me to come and work for him and once I was here, well, the attraction that had been hidden for years was blinding.” For her, at least.

“Funny, he never even acts like you two are dating,” Park said. “Once, he took that girl with the tiny braids into his office and locked his door and they didn’t come out for an hour. I don’t think those noises we heard came from the rowing machine.”

Cassy rose and picked up her half-drunk coffee. “Scott and I are working together. We have to act in a professional manner, not like a dating couple.”

She went back to her desk, pushing the conversation from her mind. She did not want to think of Scott and another woman and the noises they made together. He’d dated many women over the years. She knew all about them—sometimes she was on the receiving end of way more information than she felt comfortable with—but now it was different. Their engagement might be fake, but there was nothing fake about her twinges of jealousy and possessiveness.

She was working on her part of the pitch to Lorraine Dempsey when the phone rang. “Good morning. Thornton NanoTech Limited. Cassy speaking.”

“Tod here,” Lorraine’s personal assistant announced. “I’m confirming you and Scott as guests of Ms. Dempsey’s this weekend. I’ve booked you a suite in the Salish Lodge at Snoqualmie Falls. Lorraine will expect you both for dinner at seven.”

A suite. Did that mean two bedrooms? If so, there would be no fumbling over whether or not to share a bed. Good. She was glad. It made sense to keep their friendship sacrosanct. Anyway, another rejection like the one at the breakfast table and her self-esteem would be in the toilet. “That sounds fine. We’ll see her on Friday.”

She checked her e-mail, flagged items that needed immediate attention, redirected others to Scott or the geeks, and sorted the rest into folders of varying urgency.

The subject line of the last message read “Cassy Morris. Private.” Interesting. She opened the e-mail and quickly scanned the message.

Dear Cassy,

Since Scott won’t talk to me, I’m appealing to you. I assure you I have only his best interests at heart. Can we meet for coffee at, say, three o’clock in the cafeteria in your building?

Cordially, Ian Thornton

Cassy studied the e-mail, reading it over a second time. She’d met Ian once, years ago, on a rare visit he’d made to see Scott. Part of her was skeptical. How could Ian pretend to have Scott’s best interests at heart when he’d abandoned his seven-year-old son—albeit to a good home—despite having plenty of money to hire a nanny and a housekeeper?

Yet his plea touched her. Ian Thornton would be in his sixties by now. Maybe he had regrets. He could be in ill health, even dying, and want to make amends for the lost years. What harm would it do to talk to him? If Ian were dying, Scott would surely change his mind and want to see him. In that case, she’d be doing him a disservice by not keeping this appointment.

On the other hand, Scott wouldn’t give his approval if she asked him, and he’d be pissed if he found out she’d consorted with the man he considered his enemy.

“Are you busy?” Scott appeared at the side of her desk, making her jump. His gaze went automatically to the computer screen, just as hers had earlier in the coffee room.

“Oh! You startled me.” Swiftly, she minimized the in-box. Had he seen the e-mail with his father’s name? Why was she hiding it from him? When they’d been just friends, she’d never hidden anything.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked.

“Fine.” She brought up the PowerPoint presentation she’d been working on. “I’m preparing our pitch to Lorraine Dempsey. It’s a tag-team approach. I’ll introduce you and your company, talk up your accomplishments, then hand over to you to amaze and inspire her with what your Dreamcatcher can do. Please, speak in layman’s terms. If she wants technical details, she’ll send her tech guys to pump you for information. After that it’s my turn again with a financial projection that will knock her socks off. You’ll wrap up the session by generously offering to let her in on the biggest nanotechnological advance of the millennium.”

Scott lounged against the filing cabinet, gorgeous in a simple black T-shirt and narrow-legged gray denim pants. “You know, you were vastly underutilized in the last place you worked. Your boss must have been an idiot not to realize how talented you are.”

“Since I was my own boss, I think you just insulted me.”

“What I mean is, why do you limit yourself to accounting? You’re capable of so much more.”

It was a question she’d been asking herself increasingly of late. Especially since the work she was doing for Scott had stretched and stimulated her. “We don’t know yet if this presentation is going to do the trick. It’s not something I do on a regular basis.”

“I trust your judgment.” He was still gazing at her intently. When Scott focused, he poured his whole being into the object of his attention.

Cassy’s cheeks warmed under his scrutiny. Was he studying her as a scientist might examine a specimen of interest, or as a man looks at a woman he desires? It felt like the latter but maybe that was only wishful thinking. “Well, thanks.”

He pushed off the filing cabinet. “Take a break. We’re going shopping.”

“You hate shopping.”

“This is something that has to be done.” Scott headed for the exit and held the door. “Coming?”

“I’ll be right there.” So, Scott trusted her judgment. In her opinion, he needed to talk to his father. Ergo, she would keep the coffee date. She opened her inbox, typed a quick reply to Ian’s e-mail, and hit send. But just to avoid an argument until she heard what Ian had to say, she wouldn’t mention it to Scott. She reached in her desk drawer for her purse. “I have to be back by three.”

“No problem. This shouldn’t take long.” They walked out to the parking lot where his mud-spattered SUV occupied a reserved spot.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re shopping for?” she asked, climbing into the passenger seat. “I don’t like surprises.”

“I know.” He slanted her a grin as he started the motor.

She stuck out her tongue at him. Not very mature or professional of her, but right now he was acting like an annoying older brother.

When they were on the highway heading downtown, she said, “During coffee break, the guys were looking at something on a laptop they didn’t want me to see. I think it might be porn. Not that it’s any of my business.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Oh, that. They use an early version of the Dreamcatcher to record their dreams and watch whenever someone dreams something particularly juicy. Leonard is infamous for his R-rated mash-ups of science fiction. In the last one I saw, he dreamed that Chewbacca got it on with Princess Leia. Then there was the classic where Dr. Zachary Smith and R2-D2 meet in a Turkish bath…”

“Ew!” Cassy put up her hands to ward off the images. “No wonder they seemed embarrassed. That’s disgusting.” She paused. “So the Dreamcatcher really works?”

“Yeah, it works.” He seemed amused at her surprise. “Don’t you believe in it?”

“I do, in an abstract way, because you tell me it’s true. But I guess part of me is still skeptical. It’s so…science fiction.”

“It’s science fact,” he said firmly. “The applications are far more broad-reaching than recording dreams. You should try it.”

“No, thanks. I don’t want weird little robot things in my brain.”

“Nanites. They’re perfectly safe. I’ve got them myself. We’ve done hundreds of trials.” Scott slowed and put his indicator on to pull into a parking space at the curb. “Wouldn’t you like to see your dreams come to life in full, living color?”

A tiny smile tugged at her lips. She was looking at her dream man right now. “Maybe. Someday.” Then she glanced out the window and saw they were in front of Tiffany. “What are we doing here?”

“Getting you an engagement ring.”

“What?” She swiveled in her seat. “No, Scott. This arrangement is temporary. It would be silly to buy a ring.” The whole idea made her deeply uncomfortable. Someday, when she got engaged and chose a ring with the man she loved, she wanted it to be real and special, not a trick to fool people. When this was over and Scott had his investment money, she wouldn’t feel right unless she gave the ring back. And that would hurt.

Scott reached for her hand and ran his thumb across the chipped opal. “No one is going to believe a multimillionaire would give his fiancée that. No offense to your parents. It was a nice gift for a college graduate. But I’d like to think I would value the woman I was going to marry more than this.”

The warm abrasion of his thumb against her skin set off a tiny shiver that ran up her arm. She met his eyes and felt the warmth penetrate through to her heart. His deep and abiding affection meant so much to her. So why wasn’t it enough anymore?

Blinking hard, her gaze turned fierce. “Who cares what people think? I prefer the opal to a phony ring with a phony sentiment attached.”

His fingers tightened, squeezing hers as his expression hardened. “The fake engagement was your idea. We’re in this now. We have to go through with it and we can’t do it half-assed.”

She pulled her hand out of his and crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Nothing says we have to go through with it. We can call off our ‘engagement.’ You can go to Salish Lodge and pitch to Lorraine by yourself. She’d rather have your undivided attention, anyway.”

“Come on, Cass. Don’t be like that. I need you. It’s just a ring. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

No, it wouldn’t mean anything. That’s what bothered her. The kiss and the way he looked at her sometimes were enough to make her wonder if his true feelings for her were more than he let on. But she would be foolish to build her hopes up.

Scott tapped the steering wheel, the only sound in the tense silence.

“It doesn’t have to be a diamond, if a traditional ring has too much significance for you. You can have anything you want,” he said. “Ruby, emerald, sapphire.” He paused, and when she didn’t say anything he added quietly, “Someday you’ll find someone special and he’ll give you a ring. Then you’ll forget all about this day and what it didn’t mean to you.”

She would never forget today. And Scott would never know what it meant to her, or how hard it was to walk into a store and pick out an engagement ring with him that would never lead to marriage. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t love her. She needed to suck up her inconvenient emotions and focus on getting Lorraine Dempsey to be his angel investor. She’d committed to that. Now she had to follow through, no matter how hard it was to pretend she didn’t have real feelings for Scott.

Cassy touched her fingers to her eyes. “I’m being a baby. Sorry. Let’s go inside.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiled at her with warmth and affection.

She fumbled for the door handle. “Let’s get this done.”

Scott took her hand as they climbed the steps and went inside Tiffany & Co. Every flat surface, vertical and horizontal, shone and reflected light. The jeweler, a well-groomed sixty-something man in a dark suit, glided over the plush carpet and offered his assistance.

“We’re looking for an engagement ring for my fiancée,” Scott said.

“Certainly. Mr. Thornton, I presume? I saw your engagement photo in the newspaper.” The jeweler pressed his manicured hands together. “It’s a pleasure to serve you, sir.” He made a small bow to Cassy. “And madam.”

Cassy acknowledged the jeweler with a nod. “I don’t want anything too expensive.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Scott said. “Show us your biggest and most beautiful engagement rings.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Cassy deserves nothing but the best.”

Oh, God. The hell of it was that although he was putting on an act for the jeweler, he actually did value her—just not in the way she would have liked. Cassy made herself smile back and tried to come up with an appropriate reply. All she could manage was a cracked, “
You’re
the best.”

“Perhaps something custom-made?” the jeweler suggested.

“We don’t have time to wait,” Scott replied. “Show us what you’ve got ready-made.”

“I do have some rather special pieces. One moment, please.” The jeweler went through a door behind the counter into an adjoining room.

Cassy found a tissue in her purse and blotted her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Scott bent toward her, frowning.

“I’m fine.” She sucked in a breath. It was ridiculous to get emotional about what was a business arrangement. “I didn’t sleep well last night. You know how out of sorts I get when I’m overtired.”

The jeweler returned and set three large velvet cases in Tiffany’s signature blue on the glass counter. One by one, he opened them. The first contained rings set with rubies, the second with emeralds, and the third with diamonds of varying hues.

Cassy caught her breath at the glittering array of huge, exquisitely cut stones. She didn’t agree with what they were doing, but she was ashamed to admit her scruples might be in the teeniest danger of being overwhelmed by gem lust.

Scott leaned in close and said in a low voice, “Whichever you decide on, make sure it’s a ring you like. After this is all over, you’ll be keeping it as a token of my gratitude.”