Best Friends With the Billionaire(28)

Enjoy it? Was that all? Did he enjoy sleeping with her like he enjoyed a cup of coffee, a walk through the park, a Super Bowl game? Indignation burned in the pit of her stomach.

“Sure, yeah.” She flicked back her hair, tamping down the hurt boiling inside her. “I wasn’t thinking straight. Of course we should stop.”

He pressed his hand on her shoulder, and she fought against the warmth, the promise of pleasure radiating from his touch.

“Cassie, don’t get me wrong. What we had was special and spectacular, but I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t step back at this point. I want you to make the best possible decision, uninfluenced by anything I do or say.”

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Why wouldn’t he do or say anything to influence her? Why wouldn’t he show she meant something to him? Why wouldn’t Kirk fight for her?

He squeezed her shoulder. “You deserve only the best, Cassie.”

Oh yeah? Did that include the love of her life kissing her while uttering another woman’s name? If only she had the courage to fling that question at him. But she was too cowardly. She’d rather scrabble for the scraps that fell her way than climb up and demand a seat at the table.

“I agree.” She gave him a brilliant smile. Oh, she was too good at this—masking her feelings, showing him only what he wanted to see.

She backed away from him, his touch unbearable now.

“I’ll go take a shower.” Alone. Without his arms around her, his mouth teasing hers.

Nodding, he turned back to his desk, saying over his shoulder, “And I have some work to catch up.”

No mention of dinner together in Chinatown. Not that she could bear sharing a meal with him and pretending nothing was wrong. There was only so much she could fake.

She exited the study quickly before her emotions could betray her.

…

“Where were you yesterday?” Lex asked as he leaned back in his seat on the other side of Kirk’s desk.

Kirk, unprepared for his cousin’s question, clicked his pen and scribbled something on the report they were meant to be discussing.

“Why?” he asked. “Was there some emergency?”

“No, I wanted to see if you and Cassie were free for a drink with me and Jacinta. But your assistant said you’d canceled all your appointments and were gone for the whole day.”

Kirk rubbed the base of his neck, where a stubborn knot had been ever since Cassie’s ex-boyfriend showed up.

“Cassie and I spent the day at Yosemite,” he said briefly.

“Yeah?” There was a speculative gleam in Lex’s eyes that Kirk didn’t appreciate. “So what about tomorrow night? Wednesday. Do you and Cassie want to meet up with me and Jacy? I thought we’d try that new wine bar on union   Square.”

“I’ll ask her.” But she’d probably be too busy with Russell. His fingers clenched the pen harder.

Lex tapped his fingers on the arm rest of his chair. “I heard you left Saturday’s game as soon as it was over. Hank Parnell wasn’t too happy.”

“I had something urgent to do.” Kirk leveled a hard gaze at his cousin. They might be allies now, but after years of rivalry the competitiveness still lingered. “You’re not trying to tell me how to do my business, are you?”

Lex instantly raised his hands. “Not at all. The hotel division is your baby.”

“Glad we’ve got that straight.”

“But I’ve done business with guys like Parnell, and they like having their egos stroked. You leaving his function early made him look bad in front of his other guests.”

Kirk gritted his teeth. “Don’t hassle me, Lex. I’ve got this deal under control.”

Lex backed off, and they returned to the report. But later, when Kirk was alone, he realized that Lex was looking out for him, and that he had a point about Hank Parnell. The big guy was puffed up on his own importance, and it hadn’t been very diplomatic of Kirk to skip the after-game booze up. He should at least have stayed an hour. But he’d been too worked up over Cassie. Too distracted, too horny to think straight.

Now he’d come thudding back to earth. Cassie was his friend, not his lover. Her ex-boyfriend had just made the kind of grand, romantic gesture only seen in chick flicks. She might have written Russell off, but this sudden reappearance had obviously sowed doubt in her mind. As her friend, Kirk had done the only decent thing possible—he’d backed off to give her the space to make up her own mind.

And as he’d mentally retreated, he began to get a new perspective on what he’d done these past few days. He’d blown off Parnell and put the deal further out of his reach. He’d neglected his business, the number one priority in his life now. And he’d risked his friendship with Cassie, too. A friendship that was currently under some stress.

Last night Cassie had left the house, saying she was going to her mom’s, but he suspected she’d really seen Russell. She’d come back at ten and gone straight to her room. This morning they’d clumsily danced around each other in the kitchen, both trying to pretend nothing had changed, and both failing. He didn’t know what her plans were for this evening, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her if this awkwardness was going to continue.

He kneaded the tightness in his neck again. See, this was the trouble he’d foreseen but willfully ignored when he’d first started seeing Cassie in a different light. Sleeping with a best friend was a bad, bad idea.





Chapter Nine

Later that day, Kirk left the office earlier than usual and made his way home. He hadn’t contacted Cassie, but he hoped she’d be at home. He wanted them to hang out like old times, maybe play some basketball and then order a pizza and watch a movie. Nothing special, no fancy meals, no deep conversations. And no making out, either. He wanted to regain that easiness he’d always enjoyed with her. Only now did he realize how much he appreciated it. Needed it. Missed it.

But when he opened his front door, the sound of several voices floated out from the kitchen, and his hopes of a quiet evening with Cassie faded. He walked into the kitchen to find Cassie with a middle-aged couple. The woman—tall and lean with platinum-gray hair and an open, lined face—had been talking and gesturing animatedly, but she paused as soon as Kirk appeared.

“Oh, hi, Kirk.” Cassie darted forward, a glass of juice clutched in her hands. “I didn’t think you’d be home so early. This is my Aunt Betsy and Uncle Mario from Sydney. They flew in this morning.”

Kirk exchanged greetings and shook hands with her relatives, who seemed like a nice, down-to-earth couple. As he made some small talk with them, he couldn’t help noticing Cassie’s uneasiness. She hadn’t expected him at this hour, or she might not have brought her relatives around. That stung him.

“Aunt Betsy and Uncle Mario came to pick me up for dinner,” Cassie explained, still toying with her half-full glass. “I was showing them around for a few minutes.”

“Why don’t you join us for dinner?” Mario said. Several inches shorter and wider than his wife, he was dressed in beige slacks, a Hawaiian shirt, and loafers. “We like meeting Cassie’s friends, and it sounds like you two have been friends for ages.”

“Yes, do,” Betsy chimed in.

She was Cassie’s mom’s sister, but the only resemblance Kirk saw was in their lean frames. Betsy wore a tie-dyed dress with black leggings and flat sandals, with silver bangles clinking on her wrists, and her hair twisted up in a casual bun. She looked relaxed, friendly, approachable. No wonder Cassie preferred living in Sydney.

Kirk glanced at Cassie, trying to gauge her opinion. Did she want him to come along?

She lifted her eyebrows and gave him a vague smile. He didn’t know what that meant.

“I’d love to come,” he said to Betsy and Mario. Maybe he and Cassie could still relax over dinner with her relatives. And besides, he was hungry.

They ended up in an Italian restaurant in North Beach. The place was a cliché of red-checkered tablecloths, raffia wine bottles, and strings of fake garlic, but according to Betsy the restaurant was highly recommended, and Mario was keen to try out San Franciscan Italian food.

“We don’t visit San Francisco very often,” he explained to Kirk after they’d placed their orders.

“I’m happy in Sydney,” Betsy said to him. “I’ve been out of the States for twenty years, and I don’t miss a thing except for maybe the sourdough bread.” She picked up the slice on her plate and took a big bite before nodding at Cassie. “Why aren’t you trying the sourdough? You love it as much as I do.”

“You know why, Aunt Betsy. It’s four days to the wedding, and I’ve got to fit into that dress of mine.”

Betsy frowned and looked like she was about to argue, but then she sighed. “I know you want to please your mom and sister, but I’ll be glad when we get you back to Sydney.” She nudged her husband sitting beside her. “Mario, maybe you should tell her.”

“Now? I thought we were going to wait until after the wedding.”

“No, it’s better now. Or I might let it out by accident. You know I can’t keep secrets.”