Some men might go for that pouty siren look, but not him. When it came to women, he preferred to do the chasing, and nothing about Shawna Parnell inclined him to chase.
But he couldn’t cut her off cold like he’d normally do in this situation. She was only twenty-two and clearly immature. If he rejected her too harshly, she might go running to Daddy Parnell, telling him how nasty that Kirk Rochester was, and then he might as well kiss his deal good-bye. He couldn’t risk that.
“It’s late, Shawna, and I’ve got a full day tomorrow.”
Pouting, she loosened the belt of her trench coat, letting it slide open a little to reveal a glimpse of some lacy underwear. Kirk’s body remained stubbornly cold.
“It’s not too late for a little drinky-poo, is it?”
Just in time, Kirk stopped himself from rolling his eyes.
“I think you’d better go home. Let me walk you to your car.” He scanned the street, hoping she had driven here and that her car wasn’t parked too far away.
“Why don’t you like me, Kirk?” Shawna lunged for him and grabbed his upper arm.
“I do like you,” he replied woodenly, cursing his lame acting abilities. “It’s just that, well, I have a girlfriend.”
The words popped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He blamed it on the fact that her talons were digging into his arm.
“A girlfriend?” Shawna pulled a face. “Since when? Who?”
“No one you know.” The red convertible with the lights on that was parked a short distance away must be her car. He started walking toward it, Shawna following uncomfortably close, still clinging to his arm.
She dug her heels into the pavement, forcing him to stop. “I don’t believe you. You’re making this up.”
A cab slid to a halt at the curb right beside them.
“I’m not,” Kirk replied.
“Well, how come I’ve never heard of her before?”
A woman emerged from the cab, a tall, familiar woman with brown, shoulder-length hair. Kirk exhaled. Thank Christ. He couldn’t believe his luck. He broke free from Shawna’s grip and moved toward the cab.
“Cassie, honey, you’re back,” he stated loud enough for his neighbors to hear.
As he closed in on her, Cassie’s eyes widened in surprise, and she made to take a step back. But then her gaze darted past his shoulder and must have landed on Shawna.
“Hi, er, d-darling,” Cassie stuttered.
Kirk could feel Shawna eyeing them suspiciously, sizing up the situation. Pulling Cassie into his arms, he brushed his lips against her ear.
“In case you’re wondering,” he murmured, “that’s Shawna. I’ll explain later.”
“Mm, that you will.”
Cassie’s soft hair brushed his cheek, and he found himself hugging her tighter. Damn, she smelled nice. Felt nice, too. Then he remembered their spectator and swung them both around to face Shawna.
“This is Shawna Parnell, honey. Shawna, this is my girlfriend, Cassie Cooper. Cassie’s just returned from a business trip.”
Shawna didn’t say anything, her face still screwed up with suspicion. Cassie offered a brief greeting before turning to the cab driver, who had hauled her suitcase from the trunk. When the cab had disappeared, Shawna was still studying them, hands on hips.
“Is that your car?” Kirk gestured to the red convertible, his meaning obvious.
Shawna’s lips thinned. Without a word, she flounced to the car, got in, and drove off, tires burning rubber.
Kirk smiled at Cassie, picked up her suitcase, and held his hand out toward the open door of his house.
“Let me show you around.”
…
Kirk’s house was compact compared to his neighbors, but still large by Cassie’s standards, and no expense had been spared. Above the double garage were the living room, dining room, kitchen, study, and media room done up with lots of leather, wood, and marble. There were plenty of gadgets—huge television, German sound system, several computers and laptops, blinds that lowered and raised themselves automatically. Nothing flashy or in excess, but everything chosen was of the best quality.
Very nice; much nicer than she was used to. She could easily get accustomed to this discreet luxury. The house reflected Kirk’s personality and the traits that made her fall for him in the first place—his intelligence, his masculinity, his desire for excellence. Despite the expense, his house wasn’t a precious showpiece. Not with the overflowing bookcases, magazines on the coffee table, and glossy green indoor plants giving it a homely air.
A billionaire bachelor pad, Cassie mused as she smoothed a hand over the intricately detailed wall paper. How many dates had Kirk brought here? She wouldn’t think about that.
“What changed your mind about moving in with me?” Kirk said as he showed her around the spacious kitchen with its separate breakfast nook overlooking a patio.
“I didn’t want to get arrested for strangling my mom and sister.”
“Good choice.”
“Actually, it was a mutual parting of ways.” She bit her lip. “My mom suggested I move in with her neighbor. So it’s lucky you offered.”
“That’s too bad—about your mom, that is.”
She opened the fridge and peered inside. Plenty of fruit, vegetables, yogurt, and milk. She guessed it wasn’t an accident Kirk looked so physically fit. That hot body of his had never looked better. Even with her back to him she was acutely aware of him standing a few inches away; her senses vibrated with his presence. She chose an apple, shut the fridge, and turned back to Kirk.
“So you don’t mind me rocking up like this?” she asked, taking a bite from the apple.
“Are you kidding? You saved my bacon out there.”
“And you told Shawna I was your girlfriend?”
“I figured it was better than telling her she annoyed the hell out of me.”
“Good choice.” She moved around the kitchen, inspecting the complicated coffee machine. “Do I need an engineering degree to get a cup of coffee out of this contraption?”
Kirk grinned. “I’ll show you how it works in the morning.”
She nibbled some more at the apple, the crunching sounds echoing off the marble-tiled floor and walls.
“I can’t believe you’re still eating after all that food we had,” Kirk said.
“Arguing with my family makes me hungry.”
In fact, she was nervous, and the apple was a convenient way to occupy her hands and mouth. Now that she was here in Kirk’s house, she wasn’t so sure this was a good idea after all. They weren’t college students anymore; they were adults, with set likes and dislikes. And, more importantly, they’d never shared a house alone, just the two of them. Maybe it would be awkward and embarrassing. Maybe he’d see her at her worst. Maybe she’d get drunk and make a pass at him and he’d be horrified. All these possibilities made her gnaw faster at the apple.
“As you saw, I’ve got plenty of food in the house,” Kirk said. “I have a part-time housekeeper. She looks after the groceries, the cleaning, the repairs, the laundry service. Anything you need, just write it on that notepad over there, and Gloria will see to it.”
“A bit more upmarket than our college days, huh?”
He tilted his head, a wry lift to his lips. “Think I’m too upmarket?”
“No, of course not. I wish I had a Gloria in my life sometimes.” She’d always fended for herself. She didn’t need servants catering to her every whim, but wouldn’t it be nice to be pampered now and then? She tossed her apple core into the trash can. “You know, I always thought it was kind of cool how you kept a low profile at college. You could have joined the frattiest frat house; any one of them would have fallen over themselves to have you as a pledge.”
“Huh.” Kirk snorted. “I felt uncomfortable about my trust fund. I hadn’t done anything to deserve it except be born into the right family. But all this”—he waved his hand around to encompass his house—“I’ve earned myself, so I don’t mind showing it off.”
“This is hardly showing off. You used to live in a house ten times this size.”
Damn, why had she brought that up? She didn’t want to remind him of Alison.
But Kirk didn’t react to her oblique reference to his late wife, instead motioning to the hallway. “I’ll show you upstairs.”
Cassie’s heart beat a little harder as she preceded him up the stairs. At the top she paused, and he caught up with her, her suitcase clasped in one hand.
“My room’s here.” He pointed at a nearby door which stood ajar.
She hesitated, burning with curiosity but not knowing how snoopy she could be.
“Go on,” Kirk urged. “Take a look. I know you want to.”
Crap, he knew her so well. Cheeks warm, she peeked inside. His room was like the downstairs—expansive, masculine, warmly decorated in tobacco browns and caramels. The huge king-size bed sat in the center of the room, a furry throw rug at the foot. A bed made for sex. She quivered at the thought of lying on that bed with Kirk.
“What’s wrong?” Kirk interrupted her fantasies. “You look nervous.”
“Nervous?” She attempted a laugh. “The only thing I’m nervous about is stumbling over your dirty socks.”