Typical Kirk, viewing her situation like a business problem to be solved on a whiteboard. She opened her bottle of water and gulped down the cool liquid, hoping it would douse the fire he’d ignited in her body.
“Option one,” Kirk continued when she remained silent. “You take the promotion. Pros—good for your career, respect, more money, a new car. It all sounds good. So what are the cons?”
“Longer work hours, more stress, having to prove I earned the promotion and didn’t get it because he’s my uncle. I love Betsy and Mario, but it’s not always easy working for family. You know that.”
He leaned his tall frame against a kitchen counter. “Yes, those are all valid cons.”
She sucked in a breath, fiddling with the cap of her bottle. “Plus I wouldn’t have much downtime for at least two years, maybe more. The project he wants me to take over isn’t straightforward. It’s a conversion of an old mill into apartments. There’ll be heritage restrictions and the usual problems with an old building. I’m pretty much signing up for a two year labor camp.”
Kirk lifted his shoulder. “You never struck me as shy of hard work.”
“No, but…there’s more to life than just hard work. This trip has made me realize I’m missing out on some things.”
He crossed his arms and balanced the water bottle in the crook of his elbow, his face growing wary. “Yeah? Like what?”
Like being with the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Like talking and arguing and eating and making love with him every single day. Like loving a man with all her heart and knowing he loved her just as much.
Those things.
“Oh, things like—like hanging out with friends, and taking weekend trips down the coast, and… stuff like that.”
“You don’t do stuff like that in Sydney? From what your aunt and uncle said, it sounded like you did. And you’re like a daughter to them.”
“They’re great, but my family is here.”
He took another drink of water. “So option two is to say thanks but no thanks to Mario, and do what? Move back here? Would you really want to do that?”
Why did he have to sound skeptical? Was he afraid she had designs on him now that they’d slept together a few times? God, that hurt. After witnessing all the desperate women who had chased after Kirk in vain, to be cast as one of them was a dagger in the heart.
“It’s a possibility.” She strove to sound airy, unconcerned. “I didn’t consider it until Uncle Mario made his offer. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. If I turn him down, I have to give him a good reason, and he couldn’t be put out if I said I wanted to return here.”
Kirk wiped his mouth slowly. “And what about Russell? Does he figure in your deliberations?”
Crap, she’d forgotten about her supposed ex. Maybe she should tell Kirk that she and Russell were definitely through. Maybe Kirk would be happy about that. But what if he wasn’t? He might start to feel cornered if she sent her ex-boyfriend packing, turned down her uncle’s big promotion, and talked about moving back to San Francisco.
She couldn’t do that to Kirk. He’d never promised her anything more beyond their friends-with-benefits arrangement. And here she was throwing out hints about as subtle as a Mardi Gras drag queen. Ugh. How pathetic.
“Yes, of course I’m going to talk things over with Russell.” The way things were going, she’d need a shoulder to cry on soon, and luckily Russell had a very accommodating one.
“You’ve got time.”
She screwed the cap onto the bottle, twisting it hard until it bit into her fingers. “And you, Kirk? What do you think I should do?”
“You really want to know?”
“Of course, or I wouldn’t have asked.”
He straightened from the counter. “I think you’ve often lacked confidence in your own abilities, but if you tackled something big and scary, you’d discover it’s not so big and scary, and that would be good for you.”
Her spirits dipped. “So you think I should take the promotion.”
He didn’t answer immediately. He stood there contemplating her, as if assessing all her strengths and weaknesses.
“Yes, I do,” he finally said.
She clenched her jaw as his words hit her and snuffed out the last spark of hope.
…
“Well, that’s fricking great!” Lillian snapped as she tossed her cell phone aside.
Cassie looked up cautiously.
“Mark says his cousin can’t make it. He tells me this at the last minute!” Lillian gestured at the littered table where they’d been doing the place cards for the wedding reception. “My table arrangements are totally screwed up.”
Cassie was about to point out that one cancellation was hardly screwing anything up, but she changed her mind when she saw Lillian’s furrowed brow. Three days out from her big day, and Lillian looked like she’d explode at the slightest prod.
After a long day with the florist and the caterers, they were back at the apartment. Cassie had done a calligraphy course back in high school, and Lillian had set her to write all the place cards.
“That table will be two men short now,” Lillian muttered as she pored over her seating diagram.
“Would you mind if I brought a friend along?” Cassie asked.
Lillian brightened. “Kirk Rochester?”
Cassie ignored the pang triggered by hearing Kirk’s name. “No, a friend from Sydney. Russell flew in unexpectedly, and I haven’t been able to spend much time with him.”
When she’d called him this morning, he’d sounded a bit down. Jet lag, he’d said, but she wasn’t fooled.
Lillian pursed her lips. “Is he presentable and sociable? I don’t want some sleazebag hitting on all the single women.”
“Russell is handsome and won’t hit on any woman.” The more Cassie thought about it, the more she liked the idea. Russell enjoyed social gatherings, and he’d be her release valve if the wedding became too much for her.
“Oh, all right,” Lillian conceded rather ungraciously. “Your friend can come as long as he wears a suit.”
“Thanks.” Cassie grinned.
“What happened to Kirk? I thought after he turned up in Carmel that things were developing there.”
The grin faded from Cassie’s lips as she picked up another card and ruled a couple of lines. “Nothing important happened in Carmel.”
Lillian gave an unladylike snort. “Nothing? You’re lucky I didn’t tell Mom or she’d be giving you the third degree.”
“Thanks for not telling her.”
“No sweat. So nothing came of it, huh?”
Lillian didn’t seem too surprised. Why would a rich, handsome guy like Kirk Rochester fall for plain, average Cassie Cooper?
“We’re still friends,” Cassie said steadily as she drew the first curlicue. “In fact, I’m meeting him for drinks in a couple of hours. Some new bar on union Square.”
“And you’re going like that?” Lillian cast a disparaging glance at Cassie’s cropped pants, printed T-shirt, and flat shoes. “No wonder nothing came of it. You need to make more of an effort if you want to hold his attention.”
“I don’t want—” Cassie stopped and exhaled. She’d already done the makeover thing when she’d gone to dinner with the Parnells, pretending to be Kirk’s girlfriend. She’d grabbed his attention that night for sure, but that had been a temporary thing, and dressing up wasn’t going to work a second time. On the other hand, she was too casually dressed to go to some trendy wine bar, especially since the gorgeous Jacinta would be there, too. She wanted to look her best. For her own badly bruised self-confidence, at the very least.
“I don’t have time to go back to Kirk’s place and change,” Cassie said. “Do you have anything dressy I can borrow?”
Lillian gaped at her. They weren’t the kind of sisters who borrowed each other’s clothes.
“You’ll never fit into any of my clothes!” Lillian ran her palms down her dainty size four figure.
Cassie winced. “Maybe you’ve got something stretchy or floaty?”
“I doubt it. I like my dresses tight.”
Cassie pursed her lips. “Well, in that case I’ll have to leave early and go back to change.”
“But what about the place cards?”
“I’ll get to them tomorrow, or you can finish them.”
Lillian instantly jumped to her feet. “Oh, all right. I’ll look through my closet, but don’t hold your breath.”
A few minutes later she returned with a dress. “I picked this up at a sale. They didn’t have my size so I got a size up, but it’s never fit me properly.”
Cassie took the dress from her sister. It was a navy blue bandage dress, so the stretchy fabric might just fit her. She went into Lillian’s bedroom and, after a lot of contorting, got herself into the dress. The hem ended mid-thigh, far shorter than she liked, but at least the dress fit her and gave her an air of elegance.
“You look good,” Lillian said, sounding reluctant. “You’ll have to wear your own sandals, though. Your feet are gigantic.”
“Thanks for the dress. I’ll be careful with it.”