How Cassie Got Her Grind Back (39 page)

The worst part of all of this was that her friends, including Grandma Kate, whom she respected so much, had heard him say such things regarding her personally.

Ruminating over Bill’s games distracted her as the afternoon wore on and the gray skies grew ever darker. She was wiping down a shelf in the glass case near closing time when the front door opened, letting in another frigid blast of air. The sharp clip of high heels sounded on the tile, and Cassie shook her head, wondering who in their right mind would wear heels in such icy weather. “Welcome to Divine Drip, how can I—help you?” She recognized the woman from the front page of the food section of the major newspaper in San Antonio. Cassie’s heart thudded as she stepped out from behind the counter and held out her hand. “Hello, Ms. Jones.”

Ignoring her outstretched hand, Hermione Jones sniffed deeply as she cast a look around the seating area and then toward the tidy kitchen before leveling her dismissive green gaze on Cassie.

Those must be contact lenses. No one was born with eyes
that
green.

“So
this
is what Ivan’s leaving me for,” Hermione Jones snipped, her frown and thinned lips communicating she thought Divine Drip was a dump.

Putting on her pleasant businesswoman face, Cassie smiled. “How may I help you, Miss Jones?”

Hermione flicked a glance at the chalkboard menu as she plopped her cranberry-colored Louis Vuitton handbag on the counter, took out her matching wallet, and with a haughty tilt of her chin, she said, “I’ll have a quad venti non-fat extra whip caramel macchiato—
upside down
—at precisely one hundred fifteen degrees, double sleeve, double cup, with a sprinkle of cinnamon in the
bottom
of the cup.
Please.
”

Cassie took it all in with a smile. “One quad non-fat extra whip caramel macchiato upside down, one hundred fifteen degrees, double sleeve, double cup with a sprinkle of cinnamon at the
bottom
of the cup. Tall.” She looked over her shoulder at Marissa, who nodded without comment, also having caught the entirety of the obnoxious drink order, and began preparing it.

Hermione pursed her lips and then rolled her eyes. Whipping out her black AmEx, she smirked as she clapped the card down on the counter, which reminded Cassie of Bill snapping the key down a bit earlier.

Maybe I should introduce them to each other. They’d be great together, I’m sure.

Once Cassie had taken care of payment, Marissa slid the special snowflake’s cup across the stainless steel surface. “Double sleeve and double cup, just as you requested, ma’am.”

Hermione picked up her drink and sniffed it before taking a small sip. As she did, Marissa made eye contact with Cassie and rolled her eyes, pursed her lips, and bobbed her head. Cassie just smiled placidly, wondering what the restaurateur’s game was in coming to the coffee shop. Now, having successfully met the drink challenge, Cassie felt she’d earned the right to ask a question.

“It’s not
you
he’s leaving. It’s the Hermione enterprise. Or, at least, that’s my supposition since he hasn’t said anything to me about leaving your employ.”

As if she felt a draft from somewhere, Hermione clutched the lapels of her undoubtedly designer coat to her throat. “If he leaves Hermione, he
is
leaving me. And he’s under contract. Do you truly want to cause him all that grief?”

Fed up with the subterfuge, Cassie said, “You need to discuss this with your executive chef, not me. I’d never
make
him leave somewhere he’s sincerely happy. He’s a big boy.”

Hermione scoffed. “Considering how much I can offer, he won’t ever leave. And, he’s most definitely a
big
boy.”

The sensation of swelling in her ears let Cassie know her blood pressure was on the rise. “If you’re all you think you are, plus a bag of chips, then you’ve got nothing to worry about. But rest assured I plan to share our conversation,
in detail
, with Ivan. I suggest you do the same.”

Hermione took a large gulp of her scalding coffee and sputtered, obviously regretting the move. “Don’t think I won’t!” She flicked her silver and platinum-highlighted hair over her shoulder and flounced on her high-heeled shiny black dress boots to the door. She cast one last glance around the shop, a moue of displeasure contorting her lips.

Keep doing that and you’ll give yourself lip wrinkles
.

As the door shut behind Hermione, Marissa poked her head around from the kitchen. “Is the she-devil gone?”

Cassie chuckled. “Put a black stripe in her hair and call her Cruella De Vil.”

Marissa giggled, and then she groaned. “I spilled hot coffee on my hands twice making her stupid hoity-toity drink. Upside down?
Really
? And that nice Mr. Cutter works for
her
?”

“I guess the ‘upside’ is that if he’ll put up with her, she makes me look like an angel.”

As she watched the Mercedes reverse with a screech, she cringed. The car swerved on the ice in the parking lot before finding whatever traction it could on the cold, wet asphalt. Shaking her head, she decided to wait until she was with Ivan to mention that little meeting. He’d probably get an earful from Hermione if he was still at the restaurant when she got back, if that was where she was headed. The thought inspired her to pray for the other drivers on the road between Divine and Morehead.

When her phone started ringing in her apron pocket, and she saw who it was, she almost didn’t answer it. She was certainly earning a margarita with her name on it tonight at the Dancing Pony.

“And Bill thought calling to tell you that story would somehow help what Grandma Kate said make better sense?” Samson asked as he two-stepped her around the Dancing Pony’s dance floor. Her warm body, wrapped in the luscious, low-cut black dress was becoming more distracting by the minute.

“Yes.”

Bill had said that, while he might’ve been an idiot for speaking of her in such crass terms at the restaurant, he’d been serious about still desiring her. Then he’d launched into the sad tale about his mother having a total hysterectomy in the seventies. She’d had a horrendous incision, which had become seriously infected and had taken forever to heal. Even healed, the scar that was left behind had disgusted Bill’s father, and with the subsequent hormonal changes, she’d told him flat-out she was done with sex. When his father had gotten wind of Cassie’s impending surgery, he’d run to his son to tell him what to expect—never mind that over forty years might make a difference in the severity of the surgery and the recovery. Bill had believed he was in for the same treatment.

Samson wondered where her head was, not because he was concerned about whether Bill had succeeded in making up ground but how she was feeling about Bill’s weak explanation.

“You okay?”

She nodded, looking distracted like she had since they’d picked her up that evening.

“This is me you’re talking to,
chiquita
. What’s the matter?” He squeezed her gently, and she smiled up at him, those warm brown eyes of her showing their usual sparkle. “Do you think he had a point?”

With a smirk, she said, “I think in
his
mind he did think that would somehow justify what he’d said. He was an idiot if he listened to anything his father told him about women and hysterectomies, and if I’d had a husband who looked at any part of my body with disgust, especially a scar that I couldn’t help having, I wouldn’t want to have sex with him either. What is with all the ignorant men in this town? Have none of them heard of the Internet? Hormone replacement? Robotic surgery?”

Samson much preferred the flush of irritation and frustration in her cheeks over her introspective quiet.

“None of them listen. Not a fucking one.”

He didn’t know whether to cheer her on or worry at the spark of temper and, given his own track record, decided less was more. Just let her talk. But hoping to make her smile, he said, “So what you’re saying is Ivan and I have competition?”

“No!” she said and then burst into laughter, the first he’d seen all evening. “Hell no. It’s just been an eventful day, smarty-pants. You’d struggle, too.”

“I hope for Bill’s sake he doesn’t show up here tonight.”

She mumbled to herself, as if promising retribution, and then said, “And then there’s Hermione’s cordial visit to process.”

“Oh, baby, you gotta know that gal is a little nuts. She fancies herself a food celebrity, and she enjoys putting on airs. She showed up at your place because she’s threatened by ‘the competition’ for Ivan. That’s all.”

“It’s not so much the way she treated me that pisses me off. It’s the fact she showed up at
my
place of business and treated
me
like an interloper. I would never in a million years have done such a thing. Do you think maybe she has feelings for Ivan?”

Samson took a few seconds to mull her question over. “I’ve not spent as much time around her as Ivan, obviously. When he went to work for her and I found out from friends how”—
Bitchy—
“mercurial she can be, I asked him what she was like. He seemed to think she was great to work for, but she didn’t like it when other restaurateurs asked for him after eating in the restaurant, as if she was afraid he might jump ship for a better offer.”

“Well, she looked around my place as if she’d walked into a dump.”

“From what he said, and the way she acted today, I’d say she has a possessive streak.” He thought of Cassie’s words to Jillian at the club and smiled. “Not that possessiveness is all bad. I think, with Hermione, everything is taken to extreme. Let him handle her, if and when he gives her notice he’s leaving.” He already knew that was Ivan’s intention but thought it best to let Ivan be the one to speak on the issue.

Back at the table, they continued the conversation, and Cassie turned to Ivan and said, “What about the contract she mentioned?”

Ivan smirked. “It’s yearly, and up for renewal—or not—at the beginning of March. Not that far off. She overheard me talking with a friend on the phone about you and your place, and I guess she thought a pre-emptive strike was in order. I’ve known her for a few years so I could spot the embellishments in her version of the story right away. I’ve always viewed the contract as a formality because I’ve been happy at Hermione—up until today, anyway. I draw the line at her insinuating she knows me intimately. I would never have sex with a boss.”

Cassie chuckled as she beckoned him closer. “So I guess that means I won’t get to boss you around my kitchen?”

Ivan gave her a quick kiss. “I’d make an exception for you, baby. You can boss me anywhere you want to.”

She pecked him back with a “
Rowr
,” and then turned her attention to Samson. “Speaking of bossy types…”

“Yes?” Samson said, arching his brow and drawing out the single syllable.

“I wondered if you were planning on ever showing your dominating side again.”

Samson chuckled. “I’ve been attempting to give you time to get used to us first. The Domination and everything else can take a backseat for a while.”

“Bullshit,” she said, loud and clear. “It’s part of who you are. While I appreciate the time to adjust, I think I’m there and ready to move on.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I am too,” she insisted. “And that also goes for the
ménage
in our ménage a trois.”

“What’s made you so bold and brave all of a sudden?” Samson responded, waiting for her to speak, proud of the fearlessness twinkling in her gaze.

“I never said I wasn’t intrigued by some…okay, more than some, of what I saw at Hazelle House a few weeks ago. That doesn’t mean I want you to whip me, but I would try some light kinky play in private, and…maybe we could work up to playing at the club, too. And you kept your word about letting me set the pace in our ménage.” Her cheeks suffused with color as she lowered her voice and added, “I enjoyed what you did last night with your fingers. Remember?”

He enjoyed watching her try to couch it in terms she was comfortable with. Their Cassie was by no means a prude, but she had a hard time with talking dirty. “Which part?”

“You’re going to make me say it out loud, you jerk?” she asked and then giggled. “Fine, I enjoyed it when you played with my ass. Happy?”

He hardened as he remembered how hard she’d come as he’d teased her rear opening while taking her from behind. She’d been sucking Ivan’s cock and the intensity of her moans and howls had set his brother off as well.

“Very happy. And yes, I remember,
chiquita
. We’d need to do that some more before we’d try double penetration. Bill never tried anal with you, did he?” Samson already knew the answer since her ass had been tight as a virgin’s, a thought that made him shiver with anticipation.

“Are you kidding?” she asked and then smirked as she picked up her wineglass and sipped from her sangria. “I never trusted him enough to suggest it, and if I had, he probably would’ve been revolted and gone out of his way to make me feel like a deviant.”