Best Friends With the Billionaire(7)

He spread his hands. “No dirty socks, see? And I keep my whips and masks in the closet.” He winked at her.

A furious blush heated her cheeks. “Whips and masks? No shit.” She gulped as her imagination went into overdrive.

“Cassie, I’m kidding.” He squeezed her shoulder, and a deep shiver worked through her.

“Hey, whatever floats your boat, right?” For her, it was Kirk, with or without whips and masks.

For a few moments they gazed at each other before Kirk finally said, “The guest room is down the hall.”

He showed her into a spacious room done up in calm, neutral tones with an en suite bathroom and windows facing the city.

“Towels are in the bathroom,” Kirk said, setting down her suitcase, “and extra pillows in the closet.”

“Thank you, Kirk. If it weren’t for you, I’d be moving in with Mrs. Gruzman and feeling sorry for myself.”

“Don’t thank me. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be trying to get Shawna back into her car right now and feeling sorry for myself.”

She smiled, but the thought of Shawna made her smile fade. She couldn’t stop thinking about the woman she’d seen clinging to Kirk’s arm.

“She’s young and attractive, you have to admit,” Cassie said. “You sure you’re not the least bit interested in her?”

Kirk raised his eyebrows. “I know what I like, Cassie, and she’s not it.”

His emphatic answer made her throat tighten. Yes, he did know what he liked, and it had never been her. Thankfully, she’d never opened herself up for humiliation like Shawna had. But maybe that was cowardly of her. At least Shawna had the guts to go after what she wanted.

“So…are you happy being the bachelor forever?”

His gray-blue eyes narrowed on her, making her insides squirm. “Don’t tell me you want to fix me up with someone, too,” he said.

“Too?”

“Lex has dropped a few none too subtle hints that I should think about settling down. Typical Lex. Since he’s deliriously, happily married, he thinks I should be the same.”

“Well, it’s natural. Most people want to be in a relationship.”

“I don’t.” He looked almost fierce.

“Okay.” She lifted her suitcase onto the bed and fumbled with the zipper. She could hear Kirk breathing heavily in the sudden silence.

“What about you?” he asked. “Do you want to be in a relationship?”

Her heart stumbled then began to thump madly in her chest. What should she say? Her first instinct was to deny, deny, deny, in case he caught an inkling that, yes, she would like a relationship, and not just with anyone but with him, the man who lit up her life, who made everything better and brighter just by being there. But if she denied it too vehemently, then they would carry on as before, and he might never look upon her differently.

So, how could she imply that yes, she did want a relationship, but no, she wasn’t desperate, certainly not for him?

“I, er…” Perspiration prickled on her nape as she yanked at the zipper of her suitcase. If Kirk could lie about his relationship status, why shouldn’t she? Why couldn’t she make up some story that conveyed the right tone that she was free but not quite?

“I’m not looking for a relationship right now,” she said breezily, “because I recently broke up with my boyfriend.”

Her statement was greeted with complete silence. She glanced up at Kirk to find his shrewd gaze pinpointed on her with unnerving intensity. Oh crap, what morass of lies had she wandered into?

“Your boyfriend?”

His incredulous tone made her bristle. What did he think? That she was so plain and frumpy no man would touch her with a barge pole?

“My ex-boyfriend.” She pressed hands on hips. “Weren’t you listening?”

Kirk shook his head. “This is the first time you’ve mentioned a boyfriend. I mean ex-boyfriend.”

“Well I don’t blab on about it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a love life.” She tossed back her hair to show him some sass. While she’d lived in San Francisco, within Kirk’s orbit, she’d never had a steady boyfriend, but when she’d moved to Sydney she had been determined to get on with all aspects of her life, and she’d had a couple of boyfriends. Her relationships had been nice and uncomplicated, and when they had ended, she’d had a few sniffles and quickly recovered.

“What’s his name?” Kirk asked, a frown hovering on his brow. “How long were you together?”

Her brain raced to catch up with the tale she was spinning. “Oh, his name’s Russell, and we were together about a year.”

“Russell?”

She picked up the yellow-and-green sweater lying at the top of her suitcase. “He bought this for me.” It was true. Russell, although not her ex-boyfriend, had bought her the rugby jumper for Christmas.

Kirk’s gaze flicked over the sweater then returned to her face. He looked like a prosecutor about to cross examine a hostile witness. “Tell me more about this Russell.”

“He’s tall and handsome, and he has an awesome body because he plays rugby.”

“Rugby?”

“Yes, you know rugby. It’s like American football, except it’s not. Russell has the cutest Australian accent, and he looks a bit like Hugh Jackman. You know, Wolverine.”

“Wolverine.” Kirk folded his arms, the shirt stretching tight over his solid biceps. “He looks like Wolverine, does he?”

“Uh-huh.”

She could blather on like this forever, because everything she said was true. Russell was a tall, handsome, rugby-playing Australian she’d known for over a year. The only lie was that they had been more than friends. But Kirk didn’t need to know that. He looked put out, and that set something dancing inside her. Maybe, for the first time ever, Kirk was regarding her as a real woman, a woman whom other men pursued.

“He sounds like a prince,” Kirk said, still seeming annoyed. “Why did you break up with him?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something didn’t feel right, I guess.”

“You don’t seem too upset.”

She shook the creases out of the sweater, trying to appear nonchalant. “Plenty of fish in the sea. You know that better than anyone.”

“Yeah, sure.” For a moment Kirk seemed uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “He didn’t hurt you badly, did he? This Russell?”

“No.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but her face couldn’t keep up with her lies, and her stretched lips felt more like a grimace.

Kirk regarded her for a while before saying, “I’ll let you get settled in, then.” He turned to leave then paused at the door. “Good night, Cassie. I’m glad you’re staying here.”

His soft words made her knees tremble. “I’m glad, too,” she murmured.

When she was alone, she picked at the sweater in her hands, wondering if she’d made the right decision moving into Kirk’s house. Nine years had passed, and she was back where she started, occupying a room down the hall from Kirk’s. She’d lost her naive, sophomore heart to him, and secretly died inside each time he hooked up with a girl, though thank God he hadn’t brought many of them back to his room in their share house.

Now, she was older and tougher. Now, she had an opportunity to get over her unrequited crush, or to risk everything and ask him for more. Now, she might get what she’d always wanted, or have her heart broken all over again.

…

Kirk lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why he felt on edge. He’d gotten what he’d wanted. He’d managed to discourage Shawna without insulting her, and he had Cassie staying with him. Now that she was here, he realized how much he’d missed her. She was still his best friend, though they’d drifted apart in recent years. But he was going to make it up to her. They were going to hang out together and it would be like the old days. The old, uncomplicated days when he could relax with her in a way he couldn’t with his other buddies. Cassie didn’t demand or expect anything from him; she was always happy to see him, and always good company—funny and smart and natural. With her, he could forget he was an in-demand Rochester and just be himself.

But Cassie wasn’t exactly like she’d been in the old days. She was more confident now. Maybe because she’d dated a man who looked like Wolverine. Christ, he hadn’t seen that coming. Cassie had changed, but hadn’t they all?

These days everyone thought he was a raging tomcat, but nobody seemed to notice he’d stopped catting around several months ago. Sometimes he was ashamed of his man-whoring days; he’d done it out of desperation, loneliness, and all it had accomplished was make him feel even lonelier and emptier. Like when he was married to Alison.

Relationships weren’t for him; he knew that now. Some people weren’t made for coupledom, and he was one of them. He’d learned that the hard way and come to the conclusion that friendship was more important than falling in love—or rather, believing that you’d fallen in love. Friendship could endure far more and far longer than affairs of the heart.

He’d take friendship over love any day.