Groom On The Loose

“Yes, Ms. Andrews, I’m afraid so. I’m sorry to have to tell you this over the phone, but your friend and her husband died in an automobile accident nearly two weeks ago. Since they were living overseas at the time and there are no next of kin, we’ve had a difficult time tracking you down—”

The lawyer’s words brought another painful memory to mind. Melanie had been orphaned at the age of twelve. She’d spent her growing years in the foster care system. Melanie’s parentless state had drawn Cassie to her. They’d shared a common bond. While Cassie’s parents were alive and well, they’d had little time to spend with their only daughter.

“Oh my God,” Cassie murmured as the reality of the situation finally hit her. Her friend was dead. She’d never see her again. Cassie’s knees buckled. She sat down heavily on a nearby chair.

Mitsi glanced at her sharply. “Cassie, what is it?”

Cassie shook her head.

“I know this is a shock,” Mr. Benning said. “Again I must apologize for being unable to inform you of this tragedy in person.”

“Mr. Benning,” she said, the words sounding flat and lifeless. “What about Jessica, Melanie’s baby? Is she all right?”

Six months ago, when her friend had called with the news of her daughter’s birth, Cassie had promised to look after Jessica if anything ever happened to Melanie. Tears threatened. Who’d have ever thought the promise would become literal?

“Ms. Andrews, I’d rather not discuss this over the phone. It’s…complicated.” He sounded harried, though his tone was insistent. “This is an extremely delicate situation, one that needs to be resolved as soon as possible.”

Cassie rubbed her stinging eyes. “Very well, Mr. Benning. Tomorrow I have a party at noon. I could meet with you earlier in the morning. Say, ten o’clock.”

“That would be wonderful,” he said, his relief obvious.

After making plans to meet in the lobby of a downtown St. Louis hotel, Cassie slowly hung up the phone.

“Cassie, what’s wrong?” Mitsi asked, her concern obvious.

Tears blurred her vision. Cassie drew in a shaky breath. “I’ve just lost a good friend. A classmate of mine from college.”

“Aw, honey.” Mitsi made short the distance between them. In seconds Cassie was enfolded in a backthumping embrace.

Tears flowed freely now. She allowed herself a brief moment to lean on someone else’s shoulder. Soon, however, she struggled to pull herself together, uncomfortable with the show of emotion. “Look at me, blubbering like a baby.”

Mitsi tsked. “It’s okay to cry, Cassie. You need to grieve.”

“I don’t have time. I have a party to plan.” Cassie wiped away the lingering tears with the back of her hand. Experience had taught her that emotion led to vulnerability. Vulnerability led to heartbreak. She stood, picking up the inventory list. “Now, where were we?”

“Cassie, are you sure you’re up to this? Why don’t you go home? Let me handle the inventory.”

“I’m fine. I have to be,” she said firmly. “I promised Greg Lawton a perfect party. Nothing is going to stand in the way of my delivering it.”

Mitsi looked at her uncertainly, then shrugged. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Cassie followed her assistant to the boxes of party supplies. She felt the prickling of tears at the back of her eyes, but she refused to allow them freedom. She had a job to do. Once and for all she was going to prove her capabilities to her biggest skeptic…Greg Lawton.

The next morning Greg stood outside on his patio, sipping a cup of strong coffee and watching as two of Cassie’s workers set up tables in his backyard. He glanced at his watch. Almost ten o’clock and no sign of Cassie. Not that he expected her to be there at the crack of dawn. But a phone call assuring him of her imminent arrival would be a welcome relief.

A scowl touched his brow. Dammit, since when had he become so dependent upon a woman? The last time he’d made that mistake, it had led to nothing but heartache. He had no doubt Cassie would prove herself as unreliable as all the other women in his life. Perhaps even more so. He should be counting the hours until this “business arrangement” of theirs was over.

But he wasn’t. The thought of not seeing Cassie again left him feeling empty inside. As empty as this big, old house of his, the one he’d bought for Niki before she’d ended their engagement.

Greg took another swig of coffee, trying vainly to wash down the lump of emotion that seemed to have caught in his throat. The truth was he’d gotten used to Cassie, to calling her, seeing her. He’d grown accustomed to her voice. It was as smooth as silk and as sweet as honey. Except when she was irritated—which was more times than not.

A smile teased his lips. He had to admit, he liked watching that tiny crease, the one between her golden brows, form whenever she was angry. And he liked to watch her struggle to control her temper—and fail. The verbal battles he’d had with Cassie these past few weeks had taken his mind off his own problems.

He’d never felt better, more alive…in months.

The workers struggled with a table at the far corner of the yard, dropping their burden on the grass beneath the shading branches of a large pin oak tree.

“Are you sure that’s where the table’s supposed to go?” Greg called out to them.

One of the workers, a young man with a head of dark, curly hair, pulled a sheet of paper from the back pocket of his jeans and studied the paper with a frown. “Yes, sir. It says right here—table number four, under the oak tree. Cassie’s orders.”

Greg sighed. “Well, she should know.”

“Yes, sir,” the worker agreed. With a nod, he continued his job and ignored Greg.

Three weeks ago, Cassie had marched into his life—by his request, he reminded himself—and had turned it upside down. She’d gone through his house, inspected his bathrooms, measured his floor space and listed his home’s deficiencies. Like a drill sergeant, she’d taken control, giving orders and expecting him to follow them. And, by golly, he’d done exactly as he was told.

He’d put his complete trust in her.

He glanced at his watch again. He just hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed.

The lobby of the hotel was large, with high atrium ceilings and pink marble floors. Potted palms were scattered about, complementing the red and green furnishings in the lounge area where Cassie was to meet the lawyer, Mr. Benning.

She shot an impatient glance around the lobby, but saw no one resembling Mr. Benning, who had described himself as a middle-aged, slightly heavy, slightly balding lawyer.

Just when she was about to give up, a breathless voice sounded behind her. “Ms. Andrews?”

Cassie whirled around, spotting a short, pudgy man hurrying toward her. “Mr. Benning?”

He nodded as he removed a neatly pressed handkerchief from his breast pocket and mopped his perspiring hairless head. He’d exaggerated the slightly bald part, Cassie noted wryly. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “It was a difficult night.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Cassie murmured politely. It wasn’t unusual for a person to have problems adjusting to travel.

Mr. Benning glanced around the quiet lobby. He pointed to an empty set of table and chairs. “Why don’t we have a seat?”

Cassie led the way. She felt his assessing gaze follow her. Self-consciously, she tugged at the hem of her lemon yellow sundress. Not knowing how much time she’d have to spare, she’d come dressed for Greg’s party. Now she wished she’d worn something a bit more professional.

They took their seats and faced each other awkwardly across the table. Mr. Benning was the first to speak. “Ms. Andrews, once again, let me say how sorry I am for your loss. You and Mrs. Reynolds must have been close friends.”

Her throat tightened. Cassie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The pain was still too fresh. She watched as Mr. Benning lifted a briefcase onto the tabletop. Locks snapped open, startling her. Cassie took a deep breath, willing her strained nerves to be calm.

“As I mentioned over the phone, our meeting is in regard to Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds’s estate.”

Cassie leaned forward in her seat. “Mr. Benning, I don’t care about the estate. I want to know about Jessica. Is she all right? I promised Melanie—” Her voice caught. She paused, allowing herself a moment to compose herself, then continued, “I need to be sure she’s taken care of.”

Mr. Benning gave her a considering glance. “Ms. Andrews, let me assure you, I believe Jessica will be in very good hands.” He pulled out a pair of glasses and perched them on the edge of his nose. Glancing at her over their rims, he said, “First of all, you’ve been named executor of the Reynolds’s estate.”

“Me?” Cassie asked, pointing a finger to her chest.