Cassie said nothing. But she knew better than to argue with her mother over matters of dress. She put down the hairbrush and reluctantly slipped on the shoes.
Joan smiled smugly at her daughter. 'You'll knock him dead, darling.'
Cassie's sigh betrayed her jagged nerves. 'Mum...you know I'm only going down to talk to the man.'
Her mother's face assumed one of her innocent expressions. 'Of course you are... Here...' And she picked up the bottle of Paradise perfume lying on the dressing-table, giving Cassie a liberal spray.
Cassie had to laugh. 'Mum, you are an incurable romantic.' And, curling an arm around her mother's elbow, Cassie shepherded her from the room.
'Thanks for looking after Jason for me,' she said as they walked along the hallway. 'And don't let him talk you into letting him watch the Sunday movie.'
'Would I do that?'
'Yes! That boy can twist you around his little finger.'
Her mother's smile faded. 'You know, Cassie, I'm going to miss the little minx when Roger and I get married.'
'Now, Mum, don't start that. You know it's time you made a life for yourself. And it's not as if you're going to be far away. Riversbend town is less than three miles from here and you can come out any time. Besides, didn't we agree that Jason would go to your place in town after school each afternoon till I've finished work?'
'Yes...'
'Well, then, you'll still see plenty of each other.'
As the two women passed the lounge doorway, Cassie popped her head inside. Jason was watching The Cosby Show and laughing with the uninhibited joy of a child.
'I'm going now, Jason,' she called. 'Be a good boy for your Gran, and don't forget to clean your teeth.'
He swung round from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor and smiled at her. Cassie's heart contracted at the sight of those dancing black eyes. Never had he looked so much like his father, and it was disturbing. How long would it be before some eagle-eyed gossip made the connection? Particularly if Dan started being seen in Jason's company in public.
The drive down to the suspension bridge gave her more time to think. And to worry.
Suddenly she wished she had not worn the red dress. It had been a stupid thing to do. And precipitate, being too blatantly sexy. How could she mediate the situation first with an ounce of dignity and common sense looking as she did?
The jeep reached the riverbank too quickly for Cassie's liking. She pulled up next to the bridge, sick with apprehension at what lay ahead. She prayed that Dan would be reasonable, for every tentacle of her intuition was screaming that to invite Dan to make love to her in any way at all would be to invite disaster!
Extracting herself from behind the wheel in the ridiculously tight skirt proved difficult, though it made Cassie all the more determined to keep the cardigan on. She reassured herself as she struggled up the steps on to the moonlit bridge that a cardigan didn't look all that strange. The evening was clear and cool, a breeze coming off the river. Time enough to remove the covering garment later—if the need arose.
The house looked eerie in the moonlight, with only a few of the many windows showing a light. Cassie hesitated at the base of the stone steps, apprehension gnawing at her stomach. If it hadn't been for Jason she would have turned tail and run.
She put one nervous foot forward, then froze. A Dobermann, sleek and powerful, awaited her at the top of the stone steps, growling with teeth bared. She kept very still, her thudding heart appreciative of the breed's reputation, though she had never encountered one in all her years as a country vet.
She knew not to show fear with an animal, but the hairs on her neck were prickling ominously.
'Sit!' she tried in her most authoritative voice.
No change. If anything, the dracula-like teeth were bared even more.
Cassie swore under her breath. Where was Dan? He was expecting her, wasn't he? It was already ten past eight.
'Why don't you sit, you rotten dog?' she hissed. 'Or go away.'
'Maybe he just wants to look at you.' A voice emerged from the blackness, along with its owner. 'Back, Hugo!' he commanded, and the dog disappeared.
Dan stood at the edge of the veranda, his impressively male body silhouetted against the rectangle of light falling from the open front door. Cassie caught her breath. He was as sleek and dark as the dog had been, yet infinitely more dangerous, his satanic image enhanced by the clothes he was wearing. Black shoes, black trousers, a black polo-necked sweater.
Cassie felt hopelessly intimidated, as well as a ghastly sexual awareness. Both reactions irritated her.
'Are you coming up?' Dan drawled. 'Or do we talk out here with the mosquitoes?'
'There are no mosquitoes in September,' she countered tartly.
He gave a mock salute. 'I bow to your judgement, Madam Vet.'
Cassie stiffened. 'How did you know I was a vet? Have you been questioning people about me?'