Groom On The Loose

“And you think you’ll accomplish that by hiring me to be your ’girlfriend’?”

He averted his gaze, refusing to look at her. “It would be a start.”

Silence strained between them. Cassie’s tone was quieter, gentler when she spoke again. “Greg, I know you don’t want to believe me, but I truly am sorry for what happened between you and Niki.”

He’d heard the same words said a hundred times in the past eight months. Somehow, hearing them from Cassie only made him feel worse. “I don’t need your pity.”

“No, but you need my help. That is, if you still want it.”

In one way or another, women had caused him nothing but trouble these past few months. He’d just as soon give up on the entire gender. Unfortunately, at the moment, he didn’t have much of a choice but to accept Cassie’s offer.

He sighed. “I still want your help.”

“Fine, then it’s settled,” she said, her tone clipped and businesslike. “I warn you, my service doesn’t come cheap. It’ll cost you.”

It already has, he admitted silently. “Coming from you, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He stood to leave.

This time she didn’t protest.

She rose to her feet. For a moment neither of them moved or spoke. In the small office, they stood within inches of touching. Up close he couldn’t help but notice the delicate beauty of her face, the silky texture of her blond hair and the slender curves of her body. Though she stood at chin level to his six feet three inches, she seemed smaller somehow, more vulnerable.

The thought surprised him. Vulnerability was not a trait he would normally associate with Cassie Andrews. A pampered beauty, yes. But never a shrinking violet.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said, anxious to leave.

She forced a smile. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

A lie if he’d ever heard one. He almost smiled.

He turned to leave.

“Greg…”

He stopped, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“About Niki…” For once she seemed hesitant, uncertain. “There are a lot of other women out there. Did you ever stop to consider, maybe she just wasn’t the right one?”

“Not for a minute,” he said, with a confidence he didn’t really feel. With that, he left her office and didn’t look back.

* * *

Three weeks later Cassie stood in her office’s storage room, knee-deep in preparations for Greg Lawton’s party. Why she’d ever agreed to host his party as his “girlfriend” was beyond her. Guilt, she supposed, had played a major factor in her decision. Somehow he’d gotten to her. Those eyes, she decided, those vulnerable blue eyes. She’d always been a sucker for a man with a pair of baby blues.

It didn’t seem fair that someone as irritating as Greg Lawton should have been blessed with such soulful eyes. They were windows to every emotion he tried so hard to hide. Three weeks ago she’d been on the brink of telling Greg exactly what he could do with the guilt trip he’d been trying to force upon her. But then she’d looked into his eyes and seen the pain hidden beneath the anger. Cassie sighed. And that was why she was stuck hosting a party for a man who gave new meaning to the word perfectionism.

Since their initial meeting, Greg had called her daily with helpful suggestions. From the practical to the mundane, he had an opinion on everything. She’d begun dreading the sound of a ringing telephone. Only one thought sustained her. After tomorrow, she’d never have to see Greg Lawton again. Any wrong she might have done him—real or imagined—would be wiped away with this “favor” she’d agreed to do. The slate between them would be clean.

“I can’t find the napkins,” Mitsi announced, demanding Cassie’s attention.

“They’ve got to be here,” Cassie said, wading through boxes of supplies. “I know we ordered them.”

Mitsi pulled open a lid. “Wait, here they are. Ten blue-and-white-checked tablecloths with fifty matching napkins.”

Cassie made a check on the inventory list. “All right, now about the decorations—”

The telephone rang.

Her stomach clenched reflexively. It couldn’t be…surely not…she stared at the phone in dismay. She swore that if it was Greg calling again she’d scream.

Mitsi, surrounded by boxes, shot her a helpless glance.

“Don’t move,” Cassie ordered. “I’ll get the phone.” She snatched the phone from its cradle. “The Talk of the Town, Cassie speaking.”

“Cassie Andrews?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.

“That’s right. May I help you?”

“Yes, I believe you may.” He sounded relieved. “My name is Howard Benning. I’m an attorney with the firm of Benning, Hart and Richland.”

Lawyers, Cassie thought to herself, made very good clients. They had little time and lots of money to spend. Her tone brightened appreciably. “Yes, Mr. Benning. How may I help you?”

“I need to meet with you as soon as possible, Ms. Andrews.”

Cassie glanced at her watch. It was late, nearly four o’clock. She still had to sort through the supplies for Greg’s party. “We’re closing soon, Mr. Benning. And tomorrow the office is closed. I could meet with you, say, Monday at nine o’clock.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Andrews. But that would be much too late.”

“I see,” Cassie said carefully. It wasn’t unusual for clients to call with last-minute party plans. As long as they had the money to spend, they expected her to perform miracles on short notice. “Mr. Benning, I’m sorry. But I’m already booked for the next couple of days. I don’t think I’d have time to help you with a party—”

“Oh, this isn’t about a party,” he assured her.

Cassie frowned. “It isn’t? I thought you said—”

“I need to meet with you concerning a legal matter.”

Her shoulders stiffened. Her tone became guarded. “Look, Mr. Benning. If you’re calling about that incident at the Blakewells’ house, I want to make it clear that I had nothing to do with the guard dogs getting loose. I was just there to host a party, not to baby-sit their killer mutts—”

“Let me assure you, Ms. Andrews, I know nothing about a Blakewell incident. I’m calling in regard to the estate of Melanie and John Reynolds.”

Her mind went blank. “Who?”

“Perhaps you are more familiar with Mrs. Reynolds’s maiden name, Melanie Greene. I believe she was a classmate of yours in college…”

Melanie Greene. A picture formed instantly in her mind. Melanie, a pretty brunette, with a sweet smile and a bashful personality. They’d shared a dorm room their freshman and sophomore years in college. Junior and senior year, they’d moved to an apartment. Cassie had been close to this soft-spoken woman, as close as a sister.

Cassie’s heart clutched. “Mr. Benning, did you say estate?”