Heart of the Raven(15)

"Earthie," she responded.

He figured she was putting distance between them. They'd talked around  their feelings before, both of them afraid to move too fast. He wasn't  going to let her take too many steps away from what they'd begun. "Is  Cassie short for Cassandra?"

"No."

"Short for anything?"

"I think 'any' or 'thing' would be short for anything."

He smiled. She clasped his wrists but didn't make him take his hands  away from her face. She looked worried, though. Or scared. Of him? Of  her feelings?

"We've been up here a long time. Your parents-"

He stopped her words with a kiss, more than a brush of lips, less than a  merging. Her fingers tightened on his wrists, then drifted down to his  waist. He tipped her head back a little, changed the angle of the kiss,  took it deeper. Her lips parted on a sigh. Her arms wound around him.  She pulled herself closer, aligning their hips. He moved her against the  wall and pressed into her. Her breath caught, then she moaned. He  slipped his tongue into her mouth, her warm, wet, welcoming mouth, and  she lifted her body into his. He lost all sense of time. He only knew he  wished he had forever.

She broke away, pressed her face into his shoulder. He gathered her  close, felt her shake, heard her breathing slow. He waited for her to  say something about it being a mistake, that they had said they would  wait until everything was resolved before they saw where the  relationship might go. He wasn't sorry. Nor did he want her to have  regrets.

"Okay," she said at last. "Okay."

"Okay, what?" The kiss was just okay? Everything was okay?

She stepped away and picked up her overnight case, garment bag and briefcase.

"Okay, what?" he repeated.

"Now we know."

"Know what?"

"What's between us."

"You had doubts?" He'd been sure of his attraction. He thought she'd been, too.

"There's a difference between anticipation and actuality."

"So, the actuality matched the anticipation?"

"Surpassed it."

"And that scares you, Cassie? Worries you?"

She nodded.

"Because?"

"Earthie!" His mother's voice broke the tension, puncturing the cloud of privacy they'd made.

"I have to go," Cassie said, walking away at her usual fast clip.

"We'll talk about this."

She looked over her shoulder at him but didn't respond.

He didn't follow her to her car, but veered into the nursery, where his  father was rocking a sleeping Danny while his mother rearranged the  stacks of tiny clothing in a nearby dresser.

"Cassie said goodbye," he said, stepping into the room. Goodbye.



Cassie made an effort not to speed through the streets of Sausalito,  forcing herself to pay attention to the road. Still her thoughts darted  back to Heath and the kiss. She had learned as a child to  compartmentalize her emotions, and in her career she hadn't been put in  any dangerous situations yet that would test her ability to control her  feelings. Risky, yes, but nothing life-threatening. Still she'd kept her  head just fine-until now.

She'd known Heath was going to kiss her and had let him, even though she  knew she shouldn't. What did that say about her? How could he break  through years of self-discipline, and even more years of presenting an  unemotional front, when she'd known him only four days?

She could've stopped him with a word. Instead she welcomed him, encouraged him, and even sought more.

Why?

Even if she knew why, did she want to acknowledge it? She was scared-and  a little desperate. Scared, she could live with. Scared, she  understood. But, desperate? She couldn't remember feeling desperate  before. She'd learned early to have a plan and follow it, which tended  to eliminate the possibility of desperation.

But she hadn't counted on Heath. Or Danny.

She'd already laid claim to both of them. Foolish thing to do. Incredibly foolish thing to do. She should know better.

Cassie knew what would happen next. Heath's parents would stay long  enough that everything with Danny would be settled-custody, a nanny,  even Heath's comfort level as a new parent. He would be driving again,  taking Danny places. His world would expand-without her.

Cassie wouldn't be necessary any longer. Once again, not necessary to anyone.

She paid the toll on the Golden Gate then headed for home. After a few  minutes she punched the speed dial for Jamey on her cell phone.                       
       
           



       

"I know it's late-okay, really late-but could I come over?" she said when he answered.

"Sure. What's going on?"

"I'll tell you when I see you."

Jamey lived less than a mile from Cassie, but while she rented a studio  apartment, he'd bought a house for the first time in his life, having  given up a twenty-year career as a bounty hunter to finally settle down.

"You look like you just lost your best friend," he said to her when he invited her inside.

Okay, so maybe she wasn't so good at keeping her feelings compartmentalized, after all-or at keeping her expression composed.

"Beer?" he asked when she said nothing.

"Thanks."

"Have a seat. I'll be right back."

She sat on the sofa, leaving the overstuffed chair for Jamey, but after a  few seconds she pushed herself off the couch and paced the length of  the room. Jamey passed her a bottle. She didn't sit down. He did. Then  he waited.

"I'm not being objective," she said at last.

"About?"

"Heath."

"Ah."

She shared what happened-except for the kiss.

"Why did you leave?" he asked.

"Because he didn't need me there."

"Sounds like he did. He asked you to stay."

Cassie finally sat down. She took a long sip then leaned back, forcing  her muscles to relax. "I don't want to get to know his parents."

"Why?"

"It just pulls me closer and closer, and … " She shrugged.

"It makes for another opportunity to get hurt."

"Yeah," she whispered. And Eva could come back, changing everything, as well.

"Too many people have come and gone in your life already. Too few have stayed."

She nodded. It was a painful admission. She had a hard time keeping  people in her life, because she always tried to beat them to the punch  and leave first.

"And your biological clock is ticking."

"That clock has been striking midnight since I was about thirteen years old."

"Is that part of the allure of Heath, do you think? He comes with a ready-made family?"

"Probably. But not completely. When he kissed-" She stopped.

"Ah."

"I thought I might not see him again," she muttered.

He laughed. "You don't do excuses well, Cass. A spade's a spade with you. Don't start now."

"Okay." She scraped the label on her bottle with her fingernail,  avoiding Jamey's gaze. "He appeals to me. But you know what it's like  being a P.I. It seems like an exotic job, so getting dates is easy.  Building a relationship is hard."

"Can't blame it all on the profession, although I agree with you for the  most part. Anyone who doesn't do nine-to-five has a tough time being a  partner. But some of your problem in relationships has to do with your  past. Your abandonment issues, if you want to get psychological about  it, and your fear of caring too much, because it means you would have  more to lose."

"I know. But knowing it doesn't seem to fix it. I have a social life. I have friends."

"And people are fascinated by what you do. At parties you're expected to entertain with tales of your derring-do."

"The problem is, we can't talk about our derring-do," she said.

"Right. Being a P.I. opens some doors, because people are fascinated,  but closes others, for whatever reasons. We never know who to trust, do  we, never know whether someone is interested in us or our jobs. I've  been burned, too."

"But you have stories to tell from your past, Jamey. Scars. I was a paper pusher until I came to work at ARC. A researcher."

"And it's easy to be objective when you're dealing with facts. But this  time you're dealing with a man and a baby. Give yourself a break, Cass.  Relax. Do your job and see what happens from there."

She knew he was right, but it didn't stop her from wishing she hadn't  left Heath's house, even as she also knew she'd done the right thing,  professionally, by leaving. "This is too much for my puny mind. Talk to  me about something else."

"My child turns eighteen this month."

She met his gaze. "You're getting anxious."

He nodded.

Cassie raised her bottle to him. "To the possibilities."

"The possibilities."

She stayed a little longer then made her way home. The daisies she'd  bought on Friday brought a smile as she put away her clothes. She opened  the sleeper sofa, straightened the bedding, then stacked pillows so  that she could watch television for a few minutes in bed. Too late for  Letterman, she settled on headline news. She picked up a piece of wood  from her end table, a carved turtle, and ran her fingers over the  surface. It wasn't smooth and polished, but primitive-and yet exquisite.  At least to her.