KISS AND MAKE-UP (3 page)

Cassie’s expression told him she was glad of that. Happy for him. And for the first time since he’d walked into his office and found her there, he relaxed—just a bit. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m sure
Reston Promotions
isn’t quite as big as
Fresh Face Cosmetics
, but we’re doing okay.”

“You really did it,” she murmured with a smile.

“I really did it,” he said. He wasn’t surprised by her visible happiness for him, because he knew—if he’d never known anything else about the real Cassandra Devane—that she’d truly wanted him to succeed. That had been part of the problem, after all. Her wanting him to succeed, no matter what it cost.

Like his pride and independence.

Their eyes met and held for a heavy moment, during which a number of questions were silently asked, questions neither one of them would ever voice aloud.
How are you, really? Are you happy? Is there someone else?

Most importantly:
Why did we let things fall apart?

But the time for asking questions was long past. Maybe if he’d been more mature rather than just a dumb twenty-three-year-old newlywed, he would have handled things differently all those years ago. He might have stuck around to talk things out, to try to make her understand how deeply her actions had wounded him. To let her know that he really
was
worried about the differences in their backgrounds, wondering if he’d ever be able to afford to keep up with her family.

It was too late, though. Much too late. Whether she’d moved on or not,
he
had.

If only he could make himself really believe that.

“Okay, Cassandra,” he said, forcing the thought away and sitting straighter in his chair. “Time to fess up. What is it you want?”

What was it
she wanted?
Well, that was the question of the hour, wasn’t it? Maybe even the question of her life.

When she’d walked in here a while ago, Cassandra had been sure she knew what she wanted. Two things: Closure. And a divorce. No matter what her grandmother said, there was no way in hell she was going to ask Wyatt to play along at being her happy hubby so she could get the vultures off her back and hold onto her CEO seat.

Still, though she’d refused that possibility out of hand, she hadn’t been able to resist coming here to see him for herself. Her plan was to tell him they were still legally married, and get their divorce rolling again. Oh, and tell him he’d been a jerk. She’d be taking care of unfinished business, the legal kind and the emotional kind.

But deep inside her, she had to admit the truth: She’d wanted to see him, one more time. Now that she’d let herself think about Wyatt, about their crazily-wonderful-but-heartbreaking relationship, she’d begun to question a lot of things. Was the reason she’d never gotten into a serious relationship with another man because she’d never completely ended things with him? She’d signed documents that were supposed to take care of it, but she’d never told him exactly what she thought, what she felt.

Hence her trip to Boston. She wanted to tell him off for breaking her heart, get him to sign the papers, and then walk out the door, ready to march into her new, bright and shiny future. Maybe without that weight on her, without that uncertainty holding her back from ever really letting herself care for anyone else, she actually could find the kind of mature, committed relationship everyone from her parents, to her grandmother, to her stockholders, seemed to want from her.

She’d even admitted—at least to herself—that she was also looking for reassurance that whatever feelings she’d had for Wyatt had been fully extinguished by time and maturity.

But they hadn’t been. As soon as she’d turned around and seen him, Cassandra had known she was in trouble. Deep trouble.

Because her heart sang at the sight of him.

It was a silly expression, one she’d normally scoff at, but it was true. Seeing Wyatt was like seeing her very best friend again, after a long separation, which seemed to fall away the minute their eyes met. Every memory of every moment they’d spent together leapt to the forefront of her mind.

Good memories, great moments. Like the way they’d slept wrapped around one another, wanting, even in their sleep, to be touching from head to toe. The trips to the beach where they’d glide through the waves for hours. Going through every aisle of the grocery store creating imaginary menus for the dinner parties they’d host when they were rich and successful. The time they’d painted their tiny kitchen yellow, panicking as they realized they couldn’t leave the windows open to air out the smell of paint for fear the landlord would find out what they’d done, so they’d tried to dry the walls with a hair dryer.

Stupid stuff. Young kid stuff.
Wonderful stuff.

The year they’d been together had been the happiest of her entire life. She’d been madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with him. Right up until the day he’d broken her heart.

“You must have come here for a reason,” he prodded.

She tried to stall for time, wondering if her face betrayed her jumbled feelings. “I was in Boston.”

“On business?”

Somehow remaining calm, she replied, “Sure. Yes. Business.”

She didn’t know what else to say, how to go on. Lord, she hadn’t expected this mix of emotions that made it difficult to know what to say. Emotions, yes, she would have expected that. But if she’d been a betting woman, she would have wagered on anger or indignation. Not this strange, anxious sort of longing. Not tenderness. Yet that’s exactly what she was feeling, just looking at his still-so-handsome face, his sexy mouth and his dark, stormy eyes. Eyes that were narrowed now, as he tried to figure out exactly what she wanted.

“I travel a lot with my job. In fact, I just got back from a Texas,” she said quickly.

His mouth quirked up in a tiny grin. “Texas, huh? I thought you were scared of horses.”

Her jaw dropped. “I am
not.
”

“Cass, you were terrified of my roommate’s dog,” he pointed out, daring her to deny it.

“Horses don’t drool as much as Great Danes,” she replied with a lofty lift of her chin.

His grin widened into a broad smile. “True. And I don’t suppose while you were horseback riding in Texas you wore a pretty white dress that attracts animal hair like a magnet.”

Remembering the day when she’d first gone to his Virginia apartment and met his roommate—and the infamous dog—she had to laugh. “I wonder what the Elvis impersonator thought about me vowing to make a fur coat out of a Great Dane as I plucked black dog hair off my wedding dress. It’s a wonder he didn’t call me Cruella.”

Wedding dress.
Oh, she shouldn’t have mentioned that. Shouldn’t have let her thoughts travel down that road—or invited him to take that trip with her. Because they were both picturing it. The whirlwind romance in Florida. The drive back to Virginia, where they attended different colleges. The visit to her place for a white dress, and to his for a suit, and then the quick flight to Vegas for their secret elopement. The discussion over whether they’d wanted to be married by the fat Elvis in the white jumpsuit or the thin one in the tight black pants and Hawaiian shirt.

It was as fresh in her mind as if it had happened days ago, instead of eight years ago. Which was funny considering she hadn’t allowed herself to think about Wyatt or her marriage for a long time.

Wyatt’s smile had faded. Not wanting to give him a chance to go all dark and morose on her again, Cassandra quickly brought them back to the subject at hand. “Well, I didn’t ride any horses in Texas, but it wasn’t because I’m afraid of them. I was busy with meetings.”

He looked relieved that she’d steered them away from dangerous topics, like their wedding day. Which could only lead to thoughts of their brief—but intensely passionate—marriage. And their sad, angry divorce.

He grabbed a pen and started tapping it on the wooden surface of his desk. “I can’t picture you in a cowboy hat.”

“Well, I never pictured you with your hair so short.”

He grinned, that breath-stealing grin that had always turned her legs into jelly. “I have my barber on speed-dial.”

Wyatt as a young man had been lean and wiry, with a thick head of jet-black hair that defied any attempts to tame it, particularly after a day of sand and saltwater at the beach. Time hadn’t thinned out those sinfully dark locks. They were now, however, short and smoothed down, no longer curling wildly at the back of his neck. Cassandra’s fingers itched to tunnel through the professional style and see the windswept guy she’d known.

His hair wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Wyatt’s body was also different. He was thicker, filling out his suit exactly the way a perfectly formed man
should
full out a well-cut suit. Broad-shouldered, lean-hipped, exuding strength and power.

Oh, yes, the cute college guy had turned into one amazingly sexy man. And all her softest parts couldn’t help but noticing.

“So, you’re here on business and you stopped in to see me…for old times’ sake?”

Old times’ sake? Or
new
times? Was she here to lay to rest the past? Or perhaps to open a door to the future? Or maybe just grab one more wild, hot memory for posterity?

That sounded like a halfway decent idea right about now. Even more decent than getting his signature on the fresh divorce papers.

She just didn’t know what she wanted. Particularly because in the few minutes they’d been sitting here talking, she’d remembered there was so much more than his amazing looks, brains and charm that had attracted her to this man.

They’d had a lot in common, and they’d had conversations that had gone on for hours. Wyatt had somehow understood her the way no one else ever had in Cassandra’s life. He’d encouraged both her quiet, brainy side—and her wickedly naughty one.

“This is just hard to explain,” she said. Not to mention complicated. She’d come in here with a simple plan, and now she had no idea what to do. Slap him or embrace him. Tell him off or strip and drop to the floor. Leave him…or
take
him.

One thing was certain, she needed time to determine how she felt and what she wanted and where Wyatt fit into that picture.

“I’m not here for a social visit,” she finally said, looking around the office to stall for time. Her business training kicked in. She could hear her grandmother’s advice to always have a plan of attack. But she needed time to formulate that plan.

“Well, what do you want?”

She blinked. “What do I want?”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her, obviously trying to figure out why she was parroting his words like some kind of trained bird.

Good luck with that.
Cassandra couldn’t even figure herself out! One thing she did know, however: She wasn’t ready to deal with this right now. All her carefully prepared words, her well-thought-out speech and her righteous indignation had sailed out the window and she had no idea what she wanted to say.

Luckily, before she had to say anything, the door to his office flew open and a woman burst in on a wave of energy that was almost palpable. “Wyatt, I have an awesome idea…”

The tall, dark-haired young woman’s words trailed off as she saw Cassandra sitting across from Wyatt at the desk. She looked back and forth between the two of them, visibly curious. “I didn’t see an appointment on your calendar,” she said.

Cassandra couldn’t help wondering who the girl was. Her first thought was coworker, but the jeans and funky tie-dyed halter top suited a social call, not a business meeting.

This slender, very attractive brunette—who looked no more than twenty—was visiting Wyatt socially.

She had absolutely no right to be jealous. The man was no longer her husband. Well, okay, he
was
, but he didn’t know that. And she hadn’t either, until a few days ago. So it was none of her business who he was involved with.

But, oh, it hurt to think he had some young, fresh-faced girl sharing his life. A girl like
she’d
once been.

As if sensing the charged atmosphere, the girl tried to back out. “I’ll come back later.”

Wyatt stood abruptly. “No. Don’t leave. It’s okay, honey.”

Honey. Ouch.

The girl’s brow shot up, but she stayed. “You’re sure I’m not interrupting? Is this a business meeting or something?”

Wyatt’s expression was wary. “I’m not sure what this is.”

A business meeting. She seized on the explanation. Because no way did Cassandra want to launch into a you-broke-my-heart-now-sign-this-and-go-away speech right now when the man she’d once been wildly in love with was looking at a younger, adorably perky girl with such affection and warmth.

Formulate a battle plan,
she reminded herself, thinking again of how Grandmother would handle this. The most important element in an emotional battle was to be close to the enemy. Business would ensure close proximity, and proximity would give her time to figure out these wildly erratic feelings she’d been having since seeing Wyatt again.

Because, frankly, getting his signature, telling him off and walking out the door just didn’t seem like the right move anymore. Diving across the desk and leaping into his arms suddenly sounded more appropriate. Even if he had broken her heart all those years ago by being so angry—so hateful and cold—when she’d admitted to having a crisis of faith and going to her parents for help.

He’d walked out without even
trying
to see her side of it. Her side had been the scared, lonely college girl who missed her parents and hated to see her young husband put in fourteen-hour days, once even nearly cutting his hand off in the lumberyard where he worked. All when she knew her family would help.

Sure, it’d been a mistake, she knew that now. But at twenty-one, surely she was entitled to make a slip-up or two.

Huh-uh. Wyatt Reston allowed no slip-ups, he’d made that brutally clear with the loud slamming of the door.

So why, oh why, did she still want him so much?

“As I said, I do a lot of business traveling, and that’s why I’m in Boston now,” she finally murmured, looking around the office at the variety of framed poster-sized print ads, many of which she recognized.