The Texas Millionaire's Runaway Wife (8 page)

“Where do we live, the 1950’s?”

He bent a smile. “No, but you don’t need to work. If you had a lucrative career, or something that fit within our status, it would be fine, but you’re a baker. That doesn’t fit the image of a Sands wife. So please take the day to come up with other arrangements, someone else to run the shop, I don’t care. I’m sure Graciella would manage fine without you.”

Balling her fists, Cassie said, “That’s not going to happen. Bake? Is that all you think I do?”

“It will happen, and you will do as I ask. We are supposed to be husband and wife. If you think I’m going to let you ruin this by acting as if we aren’t married, you are mistaken. I’ve had Abigail arrange to get you a bank card today. You do not need money, Cassie. For you to keep your little business, to act as if you still need money...that would raise a lot of eyebrows.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll try to empty out your accounts?” she threw at him.

He laughed. Then smiled. “Cassie, you could try. But it would take you several lifetimes. Besides, your card has a daily limit. I make more in interest than your daily limit, so please, spend away.”

Good thing she’d changed her mind about bankrupting him.

Wouldn’t happen.

What about her business? He certainly didn’t seem to care how much her work meant to her, which made her ache. When they were seeing each other he’d always seemed to admire what she did. He spent all his free time, in fact, at her bakery. Still, appealing to his sentimentality didn’t seem as if it would work. Especially after she burned him last night. “Stephen, I can’t just abandon ship like that. I have to be professional about this. Do you really want word to get out that Stephen Sands’ wife didn’t finish out her obligations? All the weddings I have scheduled, all the catering events. I’ve got standing orders...I think that would go over worse than my working. Plus, if I quit these jobs mid-steam, I won’t have a leg to stand on once we get divorced.”

Completely ignoring her plea, he said, “Speaking of which, I will also send my attorney over today to sign a post-nuptial agreement. This is non-negotiable, so please be available when he arrives. I’ll fill out my part at the office. He should be here around three o’clock. Be ready.”

Teeth gritted, Cassie tried to remember this was for Annie. Still, if she’d known she would be losing the bakery either way, she’d have rather lost it on her terms than his. It only helped a little to remember that even then the money might not have been enough. She needed his pull. If she kept reminding herself this would save Annie, perhaps she could put up with anything Stephen threw her way. “Is there anything else you want for today?”

Besides, she didn’t have to close the bakery, just treat her absence as a vacation. Make sure the jobs got done by other means. Graciella had been working with her for almost as long as she’d been open anyway. And she was a good friend; Cassie could trust her.

“I would like you to move your things back into my room.”

She moved to speak.

“But,” he interrupted, “since I know that won’t be happening, I’d like for you to at least make an effort to look as if you’ve moved in. Abigail would never question me, but I have other staff who come by daily. Some not as loyal, I suspect. So please at least make an effort to seem as if you live here.”

She nodded. For Annie, whom, she suspected, would be waking up pretty soon. She’d wanted to tell Liz everything at her house, but it all went so horribly. And Liz was already so stressed with Annie it didn’t seem fair. So Cassie kept it to herself. Still, she needed to tell her something before the announcement of their marriage came out in the paper.

Stephen stood and walked to the dining room entrance. “Cassie, this doesn’t have to be a horrible arrangement. We got along, once. We can surely treat each other as adults and get along now. Don’t you agree?”

She nodded. Not that she agreed, but it seemed pointless to argue. She followed him out of the dining room and watched as he pulled his suit jacket on for the day. He seemed taller. Or perhaps Cassie just imagined him as such. She loved the lines around the corners of his eyes. He may not smile much that she saw, but he’d earned those lines at some point.

Maybe she should give in. Maybe she should just accept that this reality—as bizarre as it was—would be hers for as long as it took. And if she’d just accept it, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.

He picked up his briefcase and adjusted the sleeve on his jacket. “Well?” he asked.

“Well?”

He stood by the door. The kiss. Damn, how had she forgotten about the front door kiss? She’d even anticipated this. She looked around. “I don’t see Abigail anywhere, so well what?”

He took a step toward her. Leaning in close, he said, “Just because you don’t see anyone around, doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

Their lips touched. Lightly, this time. Brief. He stepped away.

Somehow the brevity shook Cassie more then their passionate kisses from the day before.

“Have a good day, Cassandra.” With that, he was gone.

And Cassie found herself rubbing the tips of her fingers across her lips. They wanted more. They seemed to have swollen in anticipation of more. That light, feathery brush kiss was not enough.

Damn, Stephen Sands! Why did he have to be so infuriating?

Pursing her irritated lips, she turned on a heel and headed toward the kitchen. It seemed a shame to waste that much food, and Cassie knew just what to do with it.

Chapter Six

The drive to the office seemed longer than normal. A lot longer. Every bit of his reflexes wanted to turn the car around and get a better kiss from his wife.

Still, her confused look at the front door had made his own torture almost worth it.

Almost.

He’d think about her all day. Which would make the nine hours he’d planned to stay seem much too long. Maybe he could take off early?

No, he’d never been that irresponsible. Well, once. Their Vegas trip. But after that, never. God, Cassie still made him feel like a love-struck little boy. She walked in that morning with that curly auburn hair flowing around her shoulders. He’d seen the glow of her green eyes as she stood uncertain in the doorway, and it took all his willpower not to look up from his paper and draw her in. She’d worn a long-sleeved white shirt tucked into her tight blue jeans.

He’d never wanted to call in sick so much before in his life.

Their kiss at the door was part of his new plan.

Revenge could take many forms. Cassie, whether she knew it or not, was a passionate, sensual woman. He’d been reminded of that yesterday in his office. And again later, in his room—of the way she couldn’t control herself when their lips melded. The soft curve of her bottom beneath his hands, the way her hips cradled against his as if they belonged there.

Her sounds, whether she’d noticed them or not, were those of a woman who enjoyed being kissed. And her lips, soft, full, moist against his, needed to be kissed.

With all that in mind, the idea of not having sex with Cassie tightened his groin even more. But, revenge, as he knew, came in many forms.

A woman like Cassie was made to be kissed. Made to be loved. They would have sex, Stephen had promised her that much, but he would make her beg.

And that’s when he would end it.

Not that it was about the sex, that was certain. It was about making her want him. And he would be the one walking away this time.

He pulled into his parking spot in front of the building and turned off the ignition.

He’d loved Cassie once upon a time. He’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, wanted to watch them grow old together. And she’d run away.

Now, he’d make her love him. Make her want him in the deepest possible way, then show her how much love could hurt.

Pocketing his keys, and stepping out of the car with a deeper sense of purpose. Simple revenge was not enough for a woman like Cassie. He had to make her pay.

Inside the building, he took the stairs up to his fourth floor office. Gayle, among others, believed he took the stairs for fitness. Truth was, Stephen hated elevators. He’d stop short of saying they terrified him, but only because Sands men didn’t feel terrified.

Once in his early twenties he’d gotten stuck in an elevator for five hours. It jolted to a stop between the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth floor of his father’s downtown office. The emergency button sent clanging alarms through the elevator car, but Stephen had a sneaking suspicion the alarms could only be heard by him. After speaking into the red emergency phone, he’d waited. A little less than an hour in the fire department arrived and assured him things would be okay.

Then the car slipped.

Stephen didn’t know how far it plummeted before wrenching to a stop again, but it’d been far enough to instill a deep dislike, which stayed with him over the years.

The only time he’d ridden in an elevator and not broken into a deep sweat since then had been in Vegas. With Cassie.

Of course, they’d made out like teenagers in the elevator that time, but he’d not ridden in one except out of necessity ever since.

At his desk, Stephen looked over the day’s schedule. Light, comparatively. And hopefully no surprises like yesterday.

He’d have to schedule in a time to meet with the land developer for the Freemont area. Last week, he’d gotten the last signature to acquire the buildings. The developer had been lined up since the beginning and Stephen needed only to sign over the paperwork and the job would be done.

It felt nice. Secure, even, to finish out these projects. He turned on his computer and let it power up as he penciled in plans for the rest of the day.

He had to do one thing before anything else. Something he’d thought about since talking to Cassie yesterday. He wasn’t just a stand-in figure at Magnolia Bransford. Growing up, he had an autistic cousin. Watching his family deal with it was the biggest reason Stephen helped grow Magnolia Bransford into what it became. And he knew from experience that the years Annie went without help would only set her back.

As incredible as Magnolia Bransford was, Stephen knew what Cassie had no way to know...it wasn’t enough. It took a few phone calls, but he got everything lined up. Family counselors, therapists, play counselors, even a sitter who specialized with autistic children to give Liz some time away.

Liz and Annie were all Cassie talked about when she wasn’t talking about baking. It was cruel to take away her bakery, but he knew what his world was like. It’s why he had wanted to protect her from it for a while, at least. The whole reason he’d asked her to keep their relationship secret.

Normally he’d have Gayle make the plans, but Annie wasn’t due to start at Magnolia Bransford for another few weeks. This was personal so for once, he did it himself.

Hanging up the phone, everything set, Stephen worked through the e-mail in his inbox.

The front door chimed and he assumed Gayle would settle her things then come talk to him about his schedule. A knock at the door startled him. He glanced at the monitor, but the angle wasn’t right to see who was there. Definitely not Gayle. Though, there was something familiar about the silhouette of the woman.

“Come in.” He pressed his hand close to the silent alarm as he waited.

A small, delicate looking hand pushed open the door followed by a woman he’d hoped never to see again. “Tatiana,” he said in surprise ripe in his voice, “What are you doing here?”

“Stephen, we need to talk.”

****

After Cassie made arrangements at Just Desserts for Graciella to take over for the short term, she headed to Liz’s house. It was time to fess up. She wasn’t giving up the bakery, but neither would she be doing the thing she loved most in the world, so she had to let her sister know what was going on.

Only, when she saw her sister, she couldn’t. Liz used to be the most vibrant, most beautiful person Cassie knew. Golden blonde hair, shiny light blue eyes, she had flawless creamy skin and always walked with a bit of a bounce. Now, her hair was faded, never styled, and there was no shine in her eyes. She didn’t spend as much time in the sun anymore, either—Annie had light sensitivity issues—so Liz’s skin now had a slightly grayish pallor and she walked with a shuffle.

All in all, she’d lost her former glory, or at least the shine she once had. It would be cruel to put more on her plate. Cassie loved Liz more than anyone in this world. She would never add to her burden. So instead she suggested they drink tea and relax.

They’d scarcely settled in for a cup when the front door chimed. Annie took that moment to knock over the teapot. “You clean up, Liz. I’ll get it,” Cassie said, already out of her seat.

At the door, a man dressed in a tie and a navy blue windbreaker held a package out to her. “Liz Eden?”

“No,” Cassie said, “I’m her sister.”

“That’s fine, sign here.”

At the kitchen table Cassie worked a knife under the flap.

“Cassie, who was at the door?” Liz asked from across the counter.

Cassie pulled the corrugated box open and picked at the stubborn pieces that kept her from peering inside. “A courier. Were you expecting anything?”

“No. But I’m intrigued. Or horrified. You don’t think it’s anything to do with Annie, do you?” Liz walked around and plunked down next to her sister.

Cassie patted her arm. “I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s just see. Maybe it’s something from Magnolia Bransford. Or, maybe you won the British Lottery, or have a Nigerian Prince indebted to you.” She raised her eyebrow, which made Liz laugh.

“Maybe. I’ve been looking for Prince Charming for years. No reason to assume he couldn’t be from Africa.” She stared at Cassie for a moment. “You look good today. You’ve got a certain glow or something. Are you finally getting over Stephen?”

An involuntary smile cracked her face. Cassie had to fight the urge to break down and tell the truth. She took a deep breath. “I’m feeling good. Excited for you and Annie.”

Liz smiled and nodded.

Opening the package, Cassie pulled out a paper with instructions and an itinerary. She glanced quickly over the text before her brow furrowed in confusion. Why would Stephen do that? How the hell was she supposed to explain this to Liz?