Stress and The City

Hadn’t she banned herself from thinking about that night? Focus on the present. “So, I’ll see you Friday night?”

He blinked. “Friday night?”

“Eight o’clock? Your place. I assume you don’t get home early enough during the week to meet.”

“I told you. I don’t need your help.”

Cassie shrugged, trying not to look into the depths of his dark eyes, wondering what it would feel like to have them roaming her body.…Hello. This was business. And he was engaged. Shut down the hormones.

Besides, hadn’t she already decided she couldn’t take him on as a client? There was simply too much baggage. And if she refused him as a client, then she wouldn’t have to be near him. And that would be good because she certainly felt the same urge to attack him that had overwhelmed her on New Year’s Eve, only this time she didn’t have the excuse of wanting to destroy Drew’s cockiness. Cassie was definitely going into post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of canceling the wedding. From conservative fiancée to sex-crazed fiend in a matter of weeks.

Not an entirely convenient transformation, given that the only two men in her life were a cheating exfiancé and a stressed-out hunk engaged to another woman. Not exactly appropriate outlets for her newly aroused fantasies. The solution? Retreat. “Fine. I won’t help you.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Fine? Just like that?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“But…”

“But what?”

“Shouldn’t you be more…”

“Tenacious?” she offered.

“Yes.”

“Usually. Not today.”

“Why not?”

“Not in the mood.” To be more precise, she wasn’t in the mood to work with him, and she was taking any excuse to turn down the project. Not that she was too emotionally distraught to cope. It was a tactical ploy designed to lay the foundation for her future career. She held out her hand. “My PDA, please.”

He passed it to her, his fingers brushing against her palm. Dammit! Why were her hormones going all weird every time he touched her? Unprofessional, inappropriate and pathetic. It was time to shape up. “Have a nice day.”

She made it only to the curb before she started doubting her decision.

BY THE TIME CASSIE arrived at Blissful Heaven at nine o’clock that evening, Leo had already laid out a bountiful supply of lush strawberries. A pot of thick, gooey and sinfully delicious chocolate was heating on a burner. The smell of warm cocoa hit Cassie the moment she pushed open the door to the little shop.

Nirvana at last.

She inhaled deeply, waiting for the tension to leave her body.

It didn’t.

She sniffed again, letting the divine scent spread through her being, seep into her lungs.…

Again, no loosening of the tight tendons in her shoulders. What was up with that? Chocolate never failed her. She saved these emergency sessions for the moments of greatest need, and they always worked.

Of course, at the present moment, she was a wee bit more strung out than she’d been in the past. Like when she’d driven into a police car at a stoplight, or the time she’d accidentally set Drew’s house on fire when he was on his way home with clients.…Hah! She’d forgotten about that. Must have been her prophetic subconscious knowing that someday he’d be deserving of having his kitchen turned into a pile of ashes on a very important day.

All well and good now, but at the time she had been more than a little distraught. A quick session at Leo’s with the chocolate and Cassie had recovered enough to call Drew and admit she hadn’t actually been killed in the fire. The jerk hadn’t even been worried about her, a fact she probably should have paid more attention to.

Ah, the beauty of hindsight.

So, anyway, if the chocolate had worked for that very traumatic event, why wasn’t it helping now, when things weren’t nearly that bad? So she’d sucked face with some stranger who was engaged to another woman. So what if he was also her new client and she couldn’t stop fantasizing about him? Those really weren’t big deals, even if you threw in the minor issue of the wedding that never happened. Really. It wasn’t any worse than, say, getting a bad haircut—especially if you got the haircut as your head was stuck through a guillotine and the blade was coming down, gleaming and shining, ready to lop off your head and—

“Cassie! You’re here!” Leo popped up from behind the marble counter, her bleached-blond hair swept into a careful bun to keep stray strands from adding to the texture to her desserts. Her customers would no doubt rebel against finding strands in their succulent sweets, or at least the women would. Cassie suspected the men lived for the hope that such a blessing would befall them.

Men. A strange breed.

“What in the world is going on? You call an emergency chocolate relief session and then make me wait all day without any details! What’s up with that?”

As if she was prepared to talk yet. She needed medicinal treatment first. Cassie grabbed the biggest strawberry and dunked it into the bubbling vat. She held it up, letting thick drops fall back into the pot with a rhythmic, soothing blurp. Ah…she felt better already just watching the chocolate dance. “It’s Ty.”

“Ty? The guy from New Year’s Eve? You saw him again?”

Yes, I saw Sex God again. Smelled dreamy. No, she needed to regroup. Focus. “I’m supposed to de-stress him for his fiancée.” Wow, that really sucked, saying “Ty” and “his fiancée” in the same sentence.

Cassie immediately plunked the chocolate-covered berry in her mouth.…Yikes! Hot!

“You’re supposed to put those on the waxed paper to cool after you dunk them,” Leo said dryly.

“Like I don’t know that.” The fact that she’d seared off the top layer of her tongue would be well worth it once the chocolate kicked in and soothed her stress.…

“Wow. You’re really in bad shape,” Leo said.

“Hang on.” Cassie held up a hand to stall Leo’s inquisition while she assessed her body. One strawberry ingested, but she still didn’t feel any better? Something was definitely wrong. Maybe the chocolate-fruit ratio had been off. Time to go full strength.

She picked up a spoon, dunked it into the simmering pot and scooped up a decadent portion.

“You must be seriously close to cracking up to assault your figure like that,” Leo observed. “He’s just a guy.”

“My need for chocolate has absolutely nothing to do with him.” Gah. How pathetic did Leo think she was? Needing chocolate because of a man. Silliest thing she’d ever heard.

Cassie blew on the chocolate to cool it off. See? Her instincts were still working. She was capable of learning from her mistakes. Burn the tongue on hot chocolate once. Cool it off next time. Someone on the verge of losing her mind would be entirely incapable of such brilliance. “He thought I was stalking him when I first showed up.”

“I wouldn’t recommend the stalking thing.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve been accused of stalking before?”

“I might have been a bit overzealous in my pursuit of men in my reckless youth, but we’re discussing Ty. More specifically the fact that his engagement has sent you into a bout of depression so deep that it’ll take my store’s complete inventory to pull you out of it.”

Cassie poured the entire contents of the spoon into her mouth and swallowed. “It’s not that he’s engaged.”

Leo lifted her brows. “No?”

“It’s that I nearly sampled his tonsils. How am I supposed to work with him?” Darn it. Still no relief. “Are you sure this is real chocolate?”