Cassie turned scarlet. With an amused look, Calder said, "You told me to write what I was thinking about."
Her physical response to reading his note made it difficult to answer coherently. "Well, now I know where your mind is, but I still have some questions about this 'our house' scenario. I have an apartment. You, presumably, will have a one-semester non-renewable appointment here. I don't see how you get 'our house' out of the equation."
He looked at her seriously. "I'm not coming here for the job. I'm coming because this is where you are. The job is a good way to learn about your world."
She couldn't believe he was saying these things. His eyes were more intoxicating than the wine. "Calder, I'm happy you're here. Very happy. But I'm not asking for forever. Being with you now is enough. I don't have a lot of faith in happily ever afters."
"I thought you liked your coffee with cream and your literature with optimism."
He'd remembered her words all this time? "I do. I just don't expect it in real life. Especially with someone like you, with all your advantages."
"What advantages? I'm rich and I have a famous name. I don't think you give a damn about my money, and being famous isn't all it's cracked up to be. All it gets you is tabloids digging into your privacy and publishing every embarrassing secret you've ever had. I wish nobody had ever heard of me."
A breath of fear washed over her. She hadn't thought about that aspect of being involved with him. "They wouldn't be that interested in me, would they?"
"Not right away, no. Once they work out that I'm serious, you'll get the full treatment. I'm sorry."
"Would they look into my past?"
"Of course. They're carrion." He took another
sip of wine and then seemed to notice her distress. "What's wrong?"
She straightened the already impeccably placed silverware. "I'm very private about my past. I don't want people to know about it."
"Because your family isn't educated?"
"Shh!" She glanced from side to side but didn't see anyone she knew in the restaurant. "You're the only one who knows that."
He blinked in surprise. "But why? It's not a big deal."
"Not by itself, but then one question leads to another, and another, and another, and then it's a big deal." She twisted her napkin between her hands.
He hadn't come this far to give up over the tabloids. "Everybody has embarrassing secrets. I know. They've printed most of mine. It's not that bad, once you get used to it."
She took a slice of bread from the basket and placed it carefully on her plate, avoiding his eyes. "I'm not talking about being embarrassed. There are things about me no one knows, and they're dangerous. I could be looking at the end of my career, and if you take that away from me, there isn't much left."
"Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."
She broke the bread into several pieces and studied the remains. Finally looking up at him, she leaned forward and said in a voice just above a whisper, "I'm talking about possible prison time if this comes out."
He couldn't have heard her correctly. But her expression told him it was true.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't want you to know. But you can see why I can't take the risk."
He took her hand again, desperate to feel the warmth of her skin. "What happened? You know I won't tell anyone."
"I've already told you more than I should, more than I've ever told anyone. Please don't ask me for anything else."
"But…" It was no longer about how to convince her to have a relationship with him. That could wait. Cassie was in trouble. He tried to imagine what she could possibly have done. Tax evasion? No, she was too honest and didn't have enough money in any case. Drunk driving? Hit-and-run? She was too responsible for that. Accidental death? He had no idea. "There's got to be a statute of limitations."
Her mouth twisted. "Three and a half more years. Somehow I can't see you waiting around that long. And even then I'd be risking my career. The college frowns on its faculty members committing felonies, even if they can't be convicted."
He should have known it was too good to be true. "You're sure they'd find out about it?"
"I don't know. Only a couple of people know, and they wouldn't tell. But there's circumstantial evidence, and if they put two and two together…" Her voice trailed off.
The old hopeless feeling invaded him. It didn't really matter. Maybe the tabloids would never find it, whatever it was, but his father would be determined to separate them somehow, and he'd be hunting for something like this. He wouldn't be above using it to keep them apart, even if it meant Cassie going to jail. He'd take delight in ruining her life just to prove to Calder that he could.
No. He couldn't take that risk. Even if it meant never seeing her again, though God alone knew how he'd manage to stay away, now that he knew she cared. Maybe he'd go back to Ecuador. At least then he couldn't come to see her on impulse. Maybe she'd be willing to go with him. She'd be safe enough outside the country. But that was ridiculous. She wouldn't give up her career for him. It was grasping at straws, trying to keep the dream from slipping away between his fingers.
Her voice interrupted his thoughts. "Sorry you ever came here?"
"No. Just thinking."
"About what?" How did she manage to sound so calm when all his hopes were gone?
"Whether there are marine biologists in Ecuador."
"Ecuador? There's great marine biology there. They have the Galapagos. Why?" That was Cassie, all right. Always ready with facts.
He shook his head. "Just a random thought." A pipe dream, to be exact. He tasted defeat in the back of his mouth. "I'm sorry. I wish there were something I could do to help."
"The best thing you can do for me is to forget it completely."
He tightened his hand on hers. "I can try, but I don't forget things about you very easily." It was bittersweet, knowing she wanted him but that they could never be together. It wasn't a surprise, somehow. Just a different twist on not having time for him.
"You're not going to try to argue with me anymore?"
He shook his head. "As you say, there isn't any point. If there's something that could be used to hurt you, I can't expose you to that risk. Even if the press never found out, my father would, and he'd ruin you in a second if he had the chance. You're not the sort of woman he wants me to marry."
The word "marry" seemed to reverberate in the air between them. He shouldn't have let that slip.
Cassie recovered first. "What kind of woman does he want you to marry?"
"One who would be a political asset to the family."
"He's quite the romantic, I take it."
"The romance of power and money, yes. Don't believe the charming man you see on TV. He's ruthless."
"You sound very calm about it."
"He is what he is. It doesn't help to get upset about reality." He moved his thumb slightly, caressing her hand.
"Speaking of reality, as your unofficial consultant in marine biology, I feel obliged to point out that wounds from sea urchin spines are extremely painful, even once the spines are out. You have to soak them out, using vinegar."
"Caught in the act. Next time I'll ask you first."
She bit her lip. "You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?"
"What?"
"Saying things like 'next time.'"
He released her hand. "Not exactly. Just indulging myself in a little make-believe. I'll stop." If the only thing he could do for her was to pretend to want nothing more than companionship, he would do it. "So, how did you end up hearing about my interview?"
She accepted the new direction. With time, the conversation even became comfortable, reminding him how much he enjoyed her playful wit. It was just a new game of make-believe, pretending this wasn't unusual, that they could talk like this any time. Anything to avoid admitting to himself that in an hour he would be saying good-bye to her forever.
On the way to the restaurant, Cassie had walked as close to Calder's si
de as she could. Now she kept her distance. It was a far cry from the last time they walked together in the dark, that night at the salt marsh.
"Where's your car?" he asked when they reached the campus parking lot.
"At home. I walk to work. It's only a few minutes."
"At least let me give you a ride there. It's dark."
She wavered. Spending any more time together would just hurt more, but she didn't think she could argue with him without falling apart. She was having a hard enough time not crying as it was. "Okay."
It was the same car he had driven on the Cape. It shouldn't have surprised her. After all, why would he have changed cars? But it was one of those things she associated so strongly with that summer it shocked her to see it now. He opened the passenger door for her. As she got in, the familiar interior sent her senses spinning back to that night on the beach.
But there was no point in thinking of that now. Any future with Calder was even more hopeless now than it had been then.
Calder started the car, and Cassie directed him to a large old house set back from the road. "This is it. The owners made over the top floors into separate apartments. I live on the third floor."
He pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. "It looks nice."
"Thanks for dinner." What words were appropriate for saying good-bye under these circumstances? She would never see him again.
"It was my pleasure."
She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry about all the misunderstandings. I wish things could be different."
"I know. I'll tell the college I'm withdrawing my application." There was stark pain in his voice.
She wanted to tell him not to, but she kept her eyes on her hands. God help her, she was going to cry after all. Why did Calder have to be who he was? "I'm still glad I had the chance to see you."
He reached over and took her hand without a word.
Would she ever find another man who could make her feel the way Calder did? He could bring out more passion in her than she knew she had. Was her future to be always comparing other men to him and finding them lacking?
The temptation was haunting. Finally, the words rushed out without control. "Do you want to come upstairs? I know we don't have a future together. But we still have today."
There was a moment of silence and then he leaned toward her and let his lips touch hers.
The kiss exploded with the force of months of longing. Suddenly his arms were around her and her hands were buried deep in his hair. A flood of desire seized her but it was different this time. This bittersweet desperation had been missing in their other encounters, the sense of grasping at a dream that was sliding through her fingers. She wanted to forget everything beyond the immediate reality of his body and hers.
His hands were underneath her shirt, tracing the curve of her back, lines of fire following where his fingers touched. It wasn't enough. She was already feeling the ache inside her, the need for his intimate touch. How had she gone without him for so long?
She gasped as his hand reached her breast. She nibbled at his lips, silently begging for him to move his fingers inward, knowing that once he touched her nipple she would be beyond the ability to stop. No—who did she think she was fooling? She had been beyond the point of stopping when he was still holding her hand. She had never been able to resist Calder Westing when he touched her. It was no different now.
"Cassie," he whispered, his breathing ragged. "I don't know how I'm going to get you out of the car, much less let you go afterwards."
She heard the uncertainty in his voice, and suddenly all she wanted was to make everything all right for him. She couldn't see his eyes clearly in the darkness, but she rested her palms on the sides of his face, wishing she could bring him happiness instead of loss.
"Make-believe," she said, kissing him between her words. "Pretend we have the rest of our lives ahead of us. Leave reality for tomorrow."
It was like watching a dam break. "Cassie." He pressed his lips against her face, her neck, her hair.
She pulled back, resting her fingers over the heat that was his hand on her breast. "Come with me." Somehow she managed to tear herself away from his touch long enough to escape from the car, but as soon as he was beside her, their hands joined as if unable to stay apart.
Calder followed her up to her apartment. When she turned on the lights, he said, "Very nice."
It was nothing more than a comfortably furnished room with too many bookcases. She knew he was accustomed to a far different standard. "Well, it's home."
He didn't look at all uncomfortable, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. "I've dreamed about this." His lips descended to meet hers.
"So have I." She shivered from the heady feeling of his body against hers. There was only sensation as she accepted the sweetness of his kisses. He reached again under her shirt, caressing her skin.
She thought she might melt from the heat he was creating in her. She unbuttoned his shirt until she could slide her hands up his bare chest. She had wanted this for so long; she ached for him with a need she couldn't suppress. He was no longer wealthy and famous Calder Westing, or even the talented writer she admired. He was only the man she had longed for and was so close to loving she could hardly tell the difference.
His hands skimmed her body under her clothes, sending burning jolts of desire through her. Without thought, she pressed her hips against him. He moaned in response, moving his hand to encompass the soft skin of her breast. His touch there felt electric and left her helplessly craving an even greater intimacy.
There was no more need for words then. It was just as she remembered it, the tide of arousal she couldn't resist. She moaned and moved against him as his fingers explored and tantalized. The ache and excitement continued to rise until she clung to him, shaking with tremors of fulfilled desire.
By the time they finally made their way to her bedroom, their discarded clothing lying in untidy heaps on the living room floor, she was making her own demands of him, encouraging him and pulling him closer until at last, at last she could feel him inside her. Where he belonged, more than any other man ever could.
Make-believe.
Her apartment was blindingly silent. Cassie had delayed coming home as long as she could, knowing this would be the hardest part, facing the emptiness that would never change. Only a few weeks ago she would have said she was satisfied with her life. Now all she could feel was what she was missing. She didn't know how she would endure going to bed with only memories for companionship.
She dropped her briefcase by the door and kicked off her shoes, uncaring of where they landed. Needing to quiet her thoughts and to forget all the years she would have to live without Calder, she went to the computer and entered her rarely-used games folder. Methodically she began to play game after game of solitaire, letting the addictiveness of it take hold of her, until she could no longer think. Finally she closed it down and went to the kitchen. She wasn't hungry, but she knew if she didn't eat anything she would wake up with a pounding headache.
She never made it to the refrigerator. Calder's book was sitting on the kitchen table, a sheet of paper tucked inside. It was a moment before she could bring herself to pick it up and read the careful handwriting. Whatever he said was going to hurt.
Cassie love,
Your last words this morning when you left were that you were sorry. Don't be. Neither of us planned to fall in love, but I wouldn't trade the memories of our brief times together for anything. No matter how much it hurts, I can't be sorry for loving you.
I don't want to do anything that will cause trouble for you, so I will stay away. I wish I understood better what frightens you so much, but it is your business and I respect your privacy. If you are ever willing to reconsider or even to talk it over, I'd be happy to hear from you, whether it is today, tomorrow, or in ten years. Whatever happens, remember that I love you.
Thank you for last night. It was an unexpected gift.
T
here is more I'd like to say, but instead I'm going to leave now, because if I don't I may not be able to.
All my love,
Calder
The words blurred before her and she let it fall to the table next to his book. The picture of the two couples on the cover seemed to mock her. Now she had two love letters from Calder; one in the form of a novel, and this new farewell. She had always hated unhappy endings.