A pit opened in Cassie’s stomach. If he only knew. How ironic that there were two people sitting at this table, and only one of them was being honest—the compulsive gambler-slash-crook. Which left her—the liar.
Chapter Fourteen
By the time Jack picked up Cassie the next morning, he was in the zone. She’d been right—they needed the time apart to clear their heads. Two days from now, Wexler Construction would be his. He didn’t care what he had to do, he was going to win the company—and the island. He was now fully focused on Wexler. There wasn’t room for anything else.
Correction—maybe there was a little room. “Hi!” Cassie called as she burst through the door of her building. She had on big Sorel boots and a bright green parka with a fur-lined hood. How could she be so bundled up and still be so hot? Anyway, nothing to do about it. It was perfectly normal to admire an attractive woman like Cassie. It would be weird if he didn’t notice her. The trick was to appreciate her from afar, like he would any other beautiful woman.
The trick was not to think about getting into her pants.
“Brr!” The temperature had plummeted overnight, and she did a little half-wiggle, half-hop as a gust of frigid wind hit them.
Yeah. So much for not thinking about getting into her pants.
“The car’s all warmed up,” he said, taking her suitcase and popping the trunk.
“Nice wheels!” she said as she settled into the front seat. “Ooh! And seat warmers!” Another little wiggle as she ground her ass into the heated leather.
God almighty, this was going to be a long trip.
“This is totally the kind of car you would drive,” she said.
“What do you mean?” He glanced at her as he started the engine. She was stroking the leather seat.
“Aston Martin! Who drives an Aston Martin? But it’s perfect—fast, refined, but not too showy. Very you.”
He couldn’t help but smile. He’d been worried this was going to be awkward, an extension of the weirdness that accompanied last night’s parting, but it seemed they were going to glide into being friends with no trouble at all. As long as he kept his hands to himself. “What kind of car are you, then?”
“Ha! I’m a city bus! I wonder what that means?”
“Not literally how you get around, but what kind of car would you be?” he asked.
“Oh, man, I don’t know. I’d like to be something classic but not boring.”
“I got it. You’re a VW Bug. One of the old ones. Timeless, but fun and quirky.”
“Yes! A Slug Bug! But in a crazy color!”
“But of course,” he agreed. “Lime green or something.”
“I always wanted a Bug!” She clapped her hands with delight. “Okay. Trees.”
He shot her a skeptical glance as he navigated onto the highway. “And after we decide what kind of trees we are, will we hold hands and sing Kumbaya?”
“You would be a birch tree,” she said decisively. “Tall, straight, strong, yet, with the white bark, apart from all the other trees.”
The back of his throat tightened at the truth of the image she conjured. “Okay, uh, you would be…” He ran through his admittedly limited mental catalog of trees. “I think you’d have to be some kind of coniferous tree.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “You’re just saying that because it’s Christmas, and they’re top of mind.”
“I am not. It fits. Resolutely green year-round, no matter the weather. Striking. You’d be one of those tall pine trees in the forest, with the long needles. The kind that has a long trunk before the branches with needles start. I’m sure they have a proper name I don’t know.”
And so it went. They laughed and assigned each other animals, colors, and cities. It occurred to Jack, as the kilometers slipped by, that this wasn’t the best way to keep a professional distance between them. This wasn’t something he would have done with Carl or Amy, for instance. But it did make for an amusing trip. And keeping his mind occupied with something other than what was under Cassie’s parka could only be good.
Their game was derailed when Cassie’s phone rang. “Sorry, I have to take this.” He waved away her apology, thinking about where they might stop for a meal. They were approaching Gravenhurst, which would be the last town before they reached the island.
Whoever was on the line had obviously launched into a flurry of talking because Cassie kept saying “yeah” and trying to interrupt. When she was finally able to get a full sentence in, she said, “I told you. Lake Muskoka.” Some more silence from her was followed by, “An island. I don’t know which one. Danny! I’ll be fine!”