Some Like It Hopeless (A Temporary Engagement) (2 page)

“I was drunk and high. Driving too fast. I flipped the car and killed them both.”

She didn’t say anything, just traced the scar on his cheek with her eyes and remembered what he’d said yesterday.
We make our own tragedies
.

And last night, when she’d asked, he’d had no alcohol in his suite. Wouldn’t order any up.

He said, “Don’t think that because I didn’t mean to that it makes me any less of a killer.”

Cassandra said, and it wasn’t a question, “You don’t drink anymore.”

He shook his head and she said, “No one drives away from your hotel drunk.”

“No one.”

“How do you stop them?”

He opened his eyes and Cassandra thought
stupid question
. He could stop a bull in a china shop.

He said, “I either sit them down at the bar and pour more liquor down their throat until their wallet is empty or the cab has arrived, or I take them upstairs and fuck ‘em until they’re sober.”

A little tingle made her want to fidget. She took another drink of water instead.

“And do you upgrade all of those sobering fucks to flings?”

“You’ll be the first.”

Cassandra snorted. “And how many of them believe that?”

“So far, none of them.”

She wanted to laugh, dammit. She wanted to take him back to her bedroom and stop all this talking.

“So, why me? I’m sure there are lots of women leaving your hotel drunk enough to believe their car is in your penthouse.” She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe lots of men, too.”

“Not reliably enough.”

She waited. Waited for him to say one way or the other whether he was a bird slumming with the fishies. She didn’t care, really, she just couldn’t handle it
now
.

He didn’t answer her question, just said, “Shane,” and Cassandra’s stomach clenched.

He said, “It’s not my name, though I answered to it a few times last night.”

Cassandra thought about blushing, thought about being embarrassed, but decided she didn’t care. She didn’t care what he thought, she didn’t care that she was pathetic.

“I alternate between Shane and Ethan. I’m just warning you in case I take you up on the fling.”

“Who’s Ethan?”

He didn’t ask who Shane was and Cassandra wondered what else she’d told him last night. She hadn’t thought she was that drunk.

“My other best friend’s husband. She won’t send naked pictures so I have to project.” She looked at the brooding hulk sitting on her couch and said, “You’re nothing like him. I probably won’t call you Ethan.”

“That’s good. I’m easily confused.”

He didn’t look like he was easily confused. He looked sharp and dangerous, and Cassandra wondered why he’d followed her. Last night had been. . .maybe not fun. But it had been just what she’d needed.

He might be just what she needed.

And she knew suddenly why he’d followed her. Knew why he was sitting on her couch.

Because she understood. She’d known that a part of him had died, had known before he’d told her that he’d killed his wife and child that whatever he was looking for he would never find.

Cassandra knew what it meant to live like that. How to get up in the morning, hopeless. How to make do with second best.

She loved, hopelessly. She could never have what she wanted most in life. She couldn’t have Shane, couldn’t be what he needed, couldn’t have his children and his name.

The man sitting on her couch would never have what he needed, either. Would never find forgiveness for his sins.

She put her glass down, rounding the kitchen counter and stopping to stand in front of him. She turned her back to him, indicating her zipper. “I need a shower. You may join me.”

He scooted to the edge of the couch and pulled the zipper down slowly. He murmured, “So magnanimous.”

“Yesterday, you got lucky. Today is the tryout. If you please me, Shane, I’ll think about your upgrade request.”

He pushed himself off the couch, following her. “Cassandra Elaine Spencer, don’t you want to know my name?”

She didn’t, not particularly.

“Why? You answer to Shane.”

When they entered the bedroom, his eyes met hers in the full-length mirror. He was big and dark, brooding. He was dressed head-to-toe in rich black and his mouth looked like it only smiled when he had you cornered in a dark alley. He was nothing like Shane.

But he only said, “Hope you have a big shower, your majesty.”

And Cassandra thought she’d probably grant his request. He was big, he was distracting, he just might be funny.

He might be just what she needed.

Carlton Brady Roberts IV left Cassandra drowsing in her bed and headed back to work. Seven days a week, sometimes twenty-four hours a day. He lived and breathed his work. Early morning conference calls with New York, late nights tracking Asia.

He took his sleep when he could get it, living in the penthouse and rarely making it back home. He’d find a couple hours this afternoon to sleep and let himself feel that sweet oblivion of nothing. So tired that he wouldn’t even dream.

Despite what he’d told Cassandra, he only occasionally invited someone up to spend some energy on. He chose carefully, and not very often, because that smacked of hedonistic pleasure when he deserved none.

But he’d seen Cassandra sitting at the bar, in that ugly bridesmaid dress, her short brown hair curling as much as the length would let it. Her tears leaking down her cheek. Had seen her looking for a distraction and finding none in that happy crowd.

And then she’d tried to drive away from his hotel drunk.

He still hadn’t been thinking of taking her up to his penthouse when he’d made sure the valet was calling her a cab. His staff was well-trained, but the day staff wasn’t as familiar with spotting drivers who shouldn’t be driving. And when she’d turned, Brady had seen in her eyes that it was an old wound, recently re-opened. That it was something that would never get any better and she’d accepted that. Just sometimes it struck hard enough to make her bleed.

Brady knew all about that.

He went about his life because he couldn’t do anything else. He’d killed those he loved most in this world. There would be no forgiveness for him. He’d served his time– six years was what the state had demanded for the death of his family, and then he’d been let out early because of good behavior. And prison crowding. And because of his money.

Money bought second chances. Even when you didn’t want them.

At the hotel, Brady gave his car to the valet, nodding when he saw it was Rodrigo and deciding to go find a little sleep now. Rodrigo could spot drunk or high ten yards away.

“
Jefe
, you get your lady friend taken care of?”

Brady raised an eyebrow and Rodrigo said, “You spend the night occupied and then chase after her in the morning, there’s going to be talk.”

“What’s the talk?”

“Just the usual. ‘
Jefe’s
going to be in a good mood, go ask him for that raise now.’”

Brady almost smiled.

Rodrigo said, “‘
Jefe’s
not going to be able to walk, bring him some ice. And then ask him for that raise.’”

“I don’t need ice. And I’m not in that good of a mood.”

“Man.”

Rodrigo peeled away and Brady let him go. The only time his little Z got any action was when Rodrigo got behind the wheel.

It took Brady an hour to get up to the penthouse, putting out fires and returning calls as he made his way.

And then he sat down in his chair, listening to the quiet. So quiet.

And when he slept, it was dreamless.

Late Sunday morning, Brady was told a woman was looking for him in the bar.

When he went to see who it was, he recognized the back of Cassandra even without her purple dress. Her short brown hair was spiked instead of curled, and she wore three sets of silver, hooped earrings on each ear.

He sat down next to her, shaking his head at the bartender as he started over.

“Ms. Spencer, I heard you were looking for me. Strange, since you don’t know my name.”

“I guess I didn’t need to know it. You got my message.”

“Mm. And who did you ask for?”

Cassandra took a sip of her bubbly brown drink. “I said I was looking for a big, surly-looking guy who liked to wear black and walked around like he owned the place.”

Brady didn’t look down at his black suit. He said, “I do own the place.”

She grimaced and let out a long sigh. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. I didn’t think I’d ever say this but, money complicates things.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever say this but, it doesn’t have to.”

“It doesn’t? You don’t think I’m sniffing around you because of your money?”

He choked. “No. I know what it is you’re sniffing around.”

She started smiling, covering it with another long drink, and then offering it to him. “Would you like to join me? It’s just Coke and ice. In case I have to drive home.”

She turned to him, meeting his eyes.

He said, “You don’t have to drive home yet.”

“You’re not too busy?”

“I am. Give me a few minutes and I won’t be.”

He stood and she said, “I’ll be waiting for you right here, Shane.” She waved the bartender over. “Let’s put a little rum in this Coke.”

Brady chuckled under his breath, not missing the startled looks he got from passing staff. He hardly ever chuckled, and he never chuckled when he was coming from the bar.

But he was in a good mood. He’d finish up what had to be done and then take Cassandra Spencer upstairs and let her call him Shane.

Because Brady Roberts was looking forward to being someone else for a little while.

Brady woke when Cassandra climbed out of the bed. His eyes flying open, his fingers reaching. He sat up in surprise when he felt soft sheets and realized he was sleeping on the bed.

He rubbed his face. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No. I just need to use the bathroom.”

He was still sitting up when she came back out and he said, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

She climbed back in the bed, patting his arm. “It’s okay. It’s not like you fell asleep before we were done.”

“And I didn’t wake you?”

She shook her head. “You were pretty dead. I didn’t think you’d wake up if I took care of some business.”

“I didn’t. . .”

He took a deep breath, shaking his head. He didn’t sleep in beds; he slept too soundly, dreamed too deeply. Screamed too loudly.

Brady looked over at the armchair that was his normal resting place, then slowly lay back down.

Cassandra propped her elbow up, leaning against her hand. “How often do we have to sleep together to be able to call this a fling?”

“More than once a week.”

“Do you think you could move your hotel closer to my house?”

He smiled, then stopped. He said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Until you get that figured out, maybe we can alternate locations. My place next?”

Brady nodded his head, reaching for his phone and searching his calendar.

She watched him quietly for a minute, then said, “Oh, God. Never mind. You just killed the mood, permanently. I’ll never get that image out of my head.”

“The image of me looking at my calendar?”

“Yeah. What are you going to write in there? Nookie, three o’clock.”