Best Friends With the Billionaire(12)

Several days after the funeral, Cassie had gone to see him in the palatial mansion he’d shared with his wife. Previously he’d been surrounded by relatives and friends, but this time she found him alone, wandering aimlessly about the echoing house. By his bloodshot eyes, unshaven jaw, and disheveled clothes, she judged he hadn’t eaten or slept in a while.

She’d made him a sandwich. She’d walked about the house with him. She’d sat and watched horror movies with him. Eventually he’d fallen asleep on the couch, slouched against her, his head resting on her shoulder. She’d let him sleep, taking comfort in his weight slumped on her. After a while she’d dozed off herself.

And then, in the middle of the night, she’d woken to find Kirk’s arms around her, his body pressing on top of hers. The room was dark except for the eerie flickering of the television. She whispered his name, but he didn’t answer. He nuzzled her neck, his stubble grazing her skin. She couldn’t breathe or speak or move, stunned by his actions. His mouth trailed over her cheek, and then moved over hers, his caress drowsy, languid, warm. Extraordinary. She began to open her mouth, to wrap her arms around him, to respond to Kirk’s incredible kiss.

And then he muttered a name. “Alison, Alison.”

Her blood froze, her breathing halted, and her heart collapsed into a black hole that sucked all the light from her.

After uttering those words that killed her, Kirk slid back into slumber, his body motionless. Cassie had eased herself out from under him, praying he wouldn’t wake up. He hadn’t. She’d tucked a blanket over him, found her shoes, and left as quietly as possible.

The next afternoon he’d turned up at her hotel to say good-bye, because she was flying out that night. He didn’t remember kissing her, or that he’d muttered another woman’s name while he did. That was glaringly obvious because he’d treated her the same as always.

The memory of that kiss still burned within her. It shouldn’t hurt her so much; it had happened at a very low point in Kirk’s life, when he was grief-stricken and lonely and bone-weary. But she couldn’t shake the memory. She didn’t blame Kirk. She blamed herself for taking it the wrong way.

And tonight might have ended in disaster, too. As much as she wanted Kirk to kiss her, sober, conscious, and fully aware it was her, she feared the aftermath. What if Kirk had kissed her and then regretted it? She wouldn’t be able to pass that off like the first kiss. This time, there would be no excuses, no hiding behind anything. This time, the stakes were so much higher, and she didn’t know if she had the nerve to gamble.

…

Kirk watched the clock on his nightstand tick over another hour. Was Cassie awake like him? Was she wondering what the hell had happened tonight?

He should have gone ahead and kissed her, like he wanted to. His blood surged at the image of Cassie pressed up against him, her lips beneath his, her body molded to him. Now that he was lying alone in his cold, empty bed, he couldn’t think of anything else.

He couldn’t remember ever wanting to kiss a woman this bad and not letting himself. It was damn torture.

Since he’d started dating six months after Alison’s death, he’d kissed a lot of women. Too many women. At the time he’d told himself he was merely getting back in the game, enjoying his single status. But now he had to be honest with himself and acknowledge why he’d gone through so many women. Subconsciously he’d been trying to regain something, some memory. Not so much a kiss, but rather a feeling—a feeling of light, warmth, harmony. A feeling of pure bliss.

To his frustration, he couldn’t recall the source of this memory, and each time he kissed a woman, he found himself wondering if this time the feeling would return. But the sensation had remained elusive, and eventually he’d given up searching. It was just a figment of his imagination that symbolized something lacking in his life.

So in the past few months he’d stopped dating, stopped kissing women, and hadn’t regretted it. Until now. Now that he’d almost kissed Cassie but denied himself, that was all he wanted. Well, tough. He wasn’t young and impulsive anymore. He wasn’t going to risk everything important to him for some base urge. He needed Cassie as his friend, and if that meant throttling the beast in him, then he’d do it. She was too important to lose.





Chapter Four

Kirk wiped his forearm across his brow and grinned at Cassie. “Come on, Cooper. You’re trailing by two points.”

Cassie bounced the ball slowly, keeping her distance from him. “You haven’t won yet, Rochester, so don’t smile yet.”

He’d come home from work to find Cassie shooting hoops in his driveway. She’d challenged him to some one-on-one basketball, and he’d instantly accepted. Glad to put aside the troubling almost-kiss of last night, he’d donned T-shirt and shorts and joined Cassie in the warm summer evening. This was more like it. This was the Cassie he was used to. For half an hour they dribbled, hustled, feinted, and shot for the net, just like old times.

But as Cassie did a crossover dribble, her eyes fixed at the hoop, Kirk couldn’t help noticing how great she looked. She wore regulation baggy shorts and loose T-shirt, but that didn’t disguise the athletic curves of her long, endless legs or the mesmerizing bounce of her generous breasts. Her ponytail flapped in the air, tendrils of damp hair clinging to her cheeks. He enjoyed seeing her like this, disheveled, sweaty, and going all out. Alison had always been so immaculate—even when she exercised she looked like an ad for a sports deodorant. But not Cassie. She didn’t care what she looked like when she was doing something she enjoyed.

Cassie made her move, and because he was distracted by his errant thoughts, he was almost caught out. She drove to the center, he blocked her advance, and their bodies bumped together. Her breasts squeezed up against his chest and sent a sizzle through his veins. God, that felt so good. Holy crap. What was happening? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her breasts?

He stumbled back and Cassie took a jump shot.

“Yes!” she crowed as the ball swooshed through the hoop.

Not fair. He’d been ambushed by her breasts. Dammit, this one-on-one was meant to help him forget about Cassie’s physical attributes, not remind him. He grabbed the ball and dribbled it down to the top of the key. But his concentration was a mess, and he missed his next shot because he was too busy trying to avoid contact with Cassie. He didn’t put up much defense as Cassie’s next shot went in from behind the three-point line.

“I win!” She raised her arms and did a little victory dance.

“You look like a chicken hopping on a hot plate.” He breathed out a sigh, glad the game was over. He didn’t think he could risk pressing up against Cassie one more time.

Cassie tilted her head to one side. “I think you let me win. Want another game?”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll have a shower instead.” A long, cold one.

“Okay.” She twirled the basketball in her hands, looking suddenly unsure. “Um, do you have any plans for tonight?”

It dawned on him that Cassie might still be uncomfortable over last night and was hesitant about spending time alone with him. Crap. He couldn’t have that happening.

“No plans. Why don’t we watch some movies?” he suggested.

Her expression brightened. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Yes, watching a movie together was safe and comfortable, like the old days. An hour later, after they’d showered and eaten a quick dinner, they settled down in Kirk’s custom-fitted media room with its giant flat-screen television and squishy, cozy couches.

Kirk put on a schlock-horror movie. “This is one of the DVDs you sent me, remember?” he said.

Cassie nodded. “I remember. Slither, right? The one where the slithering aliens turn humans into zombies.”

“It’s one of my favorites.”

As Kirk sat down next to Cassie, he recalled all the care packages she’d sent him when he was nursing Alison. Beef jerky and popcorn had usually accompanied the DVDs. Back in college, they’d often had movie marathons at their share house, and he and Cassie had discovered they both enjoyed a good horror-comedy.

He pushed the open packet of beef jerky toward Cassie. “Gotta have something to chew on when you’re watching this movie.”

She eyed the packet longingly but shook her head. “I promised my mom.” She sighed.

“You sure?” He was about to say something about her figure but stopped himself in time.

“Yes.” She picked up the plate of carrot sticks she’d prepared. “This is what I’ll be chewing on.”

He frowned, then folded up the packet of beef jerky and stowed it away. He reached for a carrot stick. “Okay, I’ll keep you company.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “What? You don’t have to.”

He waggled the carrot stick at her. “Sure I do. I wouldn’t want to lead you into temptation.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled as she grinned at him. “Thanks, buddy.”

Yes, that was him. A good buddy. A supportive friend. Nothing more. He would ignore how his body had reacted to hers during their one-on-one basketball session. His blood stirred as another kind of one-on-one action sprung into his mind. Quit it, he sternly told himself. Folding his arms, he concentrated on the movie, hoping gore and slime would distract him.