Thank God dinner was almost over. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed getting to know Mitch, Julia, Drake and Tamara. Sitting so close to Brett was torture. Every time he brushed his leg against her, heat coursed through her, bringing back memories of his hand on her leg. His spicy cologne conjured images of burying her face in his neck while his hands worked their magic on her body.

Stop it.

He’s younger than you.

He’s an athlete—been there, missed the three point shot.

He’s everything you swore you wouldn’t do again after Michael.

Heck, it didn’t matter how many times she repeated those reasons to herself, her body still screamed at her to lean in to him.

She had to get out of here.

Cassandra pushed back from the table, her chair catching on the carpet. “Dammit.”

With another shove, she had enough room to get out of her chair without stumbling over it. She grabbed her handbag and made her escape.

“Cass? Is everything okay?”

She’d taken two steps before stopping at the sound of Brett’s voice.

Cass.

It had been a long time since anyone had called her by the shortened version of her name. Michael had never called her anything but sweet cheeks or Cassandra. She’d thought sweet cheeks was cute and meant something to him, until she overheard him calling his latest groupie that name. It was then she’d found out she wasn’t his only sweet cheeks. That had marked the beginning of the end of their marriage.

“Cassandra?” Brett’s voice was a little louder this time.

Pulling herself from her confused memories and thoughts, she faced the table. “I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling the best. I think I’ll call it a night.”

Lame, so lame. Couldn’t she have come up with something better than that? Like having to make a call to her agency or something.

Brett stood, moved to where she was, and slipped his arm around her. The action natural, but she noticed the raised eyebrows from everyone still seated at the table. “Let me walk you to your room.”

She fought to urge to lean into him. “No, you stay here, I’ll be fine.”

Cassandra reached into her bag to pull out her wallet, Brett’s hand stayed the movement. “No, I’ll walk you back to your room. And I’ll pay for dinner. I asked you out, remember?”

She glared at him, conveying her dislike for the situation. It wasn’t that she was a raging feminist. On the rare occasions she went out on dates, she liked when her date paid for her dinner, or made sure she got into her house safely, usually with a polite kiss on the cheek. Nine times out of ten, the dates had been busts. Even though he had technically asked her to dinner—and yeah, she may have worn her only decent dress she’d brought on this trip—but their dinner wasn’t a date date.

Who are you trying to convince?

There were times she wanted to slap that voice in her head.

“Cassandra, please.”

She could just make out what he said, the words spoken so softly. It was enough for the sounds of the restaurant to come rushing back into focus. This wasn’t the time or the place to create a scene, even though they’d done a pretty good job of it.

She nodded. There would be other things she would have to cajole Brett to do in the future. She could let him pay for dinner. Her body bemoaned the loss of his arm as he made the short journey back to the table.

“It was really good to meet you, Cassandra.” She turned and faced Julia who’d moved to stand beside her.

“Likewise.”

Julia quickly looked at Brett then back at Cassandra. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but keep it up,” she said the words quietly.

Cassandra tilted her head. “What are you talking about?”

“With Brett. In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him this relaxed. He usually carries this sort of tension around him. It’s almost like I saw the real Brett Hunter tonight for the first time.”

Cassandra considered that and glanced over to where Brett was still talking to Mitch, Drake and Tamara at the table. All things considered, she supposed he did look a little mellow, but that could’ve been due to the meal they’d just had. It couldn’t have been alcohol because Brett had stuck to drinking club soda.

“I don’t think it has anything to do with me, and more to do with being able to relax in your company. As his publicity representative, I’m aware of the history between you, Mitch and Brett.”

“Has Brett said anything to you about it?”

How should she handle this? Another quick glance in Brett’s direction confirmed he was still talking to the others. One thing she did know was, she didn’t want to throw Brett under the bus. “We discussed it earlier, but not in great length.” She paused. “My main focus for Brett is to concentrate on the future and not the past.”

Julia cocked her head to the side, as though not quite believing what she’d said.

Cassandra couldn’t prevent herself from jumping when warm fingers interlocked with hers.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Brett said smoothly. “Are you ready to go?”

Being in publicity, she should’ve been able to handle any and all questions. The feeling of Julia not believing her was a new sensation. Or was it her guilty conscience, knowing that she’d fudged the truth a little.

Cassandra smiled at Brett. “Yep, all ready.”

Not wanting to give the rest of the group more gossip fodder, she withdrew her hand from Brett’s grip and waved goodbye to the others. “It was great meeting you all. No doubt I’ll be seeing a bit of you over the next few weeks.”

Assuming Brett would follow her, she headed for the exit. She had no idea why she felt so discombobulated. It wasn’t a feeling she’d ever experienced with other clients. Then again, going on an intimate dinner date wasn’t normal. Any meals she’d attended with her clients had been purely business. This meal was anything but business. It had been what a good group of friends would normally do once a month. Friends who knew each other really well. Strangely, there had been no awkwardness around the dinner table. Considering the history between them all, she had been nervous the whole evening would be one mass of long silences where conversation faded away to nothing because no one knew what to say next.

If only this evening had been like that. Then maybe she wouldn’t be feeling so confused.

Cassandra reached out and stabbed at the elevator call button.

“Are you sure everything’s okay, Cass?”

She whirled around. “My name is Cassandra and everything is fine.”

“Well then, Cassandra. I’m glad you seem to think everything is fine, because you sure as hell aren’t acting like all is good.”

It hadn’t been her intention to snap at him; the words had just popped out. The last thing she wanted was to dissect her words and actions with Brett.

The elevator doors opened and she pressed her mouth together so she didn’t snap again at him in front of the patrons exiting.

“Hey, aren’t you Brett Hunter, the Olympic swimmer?”

Cassandra didn’t wait to see who recognized Brett; she slipped into the empty elevator and pressed the button for her floor. As the doors glided shut, she spied Brett’s shocked and disappointed face at having left him to handle the group of people now surrounding him.

Laying her head against the mirrored wall, she let out a long, deep breath. She was being a bitch. No two ways about it. She shouldn’t have left Brett alone. It hadn’t been fair, and as part of her job, she should’ve stayed and helped him with the crowd.

The doors opened on her floor, and she hesitated. The right thing to do would be to go back to the lobby and make sure Brett was coping with the situation. Problem was, she wanted to go to her room and sort out the jumbled thoughts zooming around her mind.

Her professionalism kicked in. Brett and his public image were her responsibility. Stepping back, she hit the disc for the lobby. She used the few seconds it took for her to descend to focus her thoughts on the situation at hand—ensuring Brett interacted with the public with no issues and didn’t mention the show.

As the doors opened, she saw the crowd had grown and Brett wasn’t by himself—the others from dinner had joined him. They all stood together smiling as pictures were taken.

Cassandra stood to the side and observed the body language of the five people. Mitch had an arm slung around Julia’s shoulder and she leaned into him, her arm resting protectively across Mitch’s stomach. Drake and Tamara’s pose was similar, although Tamara seemed a little apprehensive with all the attention. As an athletic trainer, she was more a behind-the-scenes type person than one used to the limelight, like the others. Brett was beside Tamara. Though his smile looked easy and happy, Cassandra could tell he was anything but. His eyes weren’t sparkling the way they had earlier this evening when he’d looked at her. His back was ramrod straight, not the relaxed pose of someone happy to have their photo taken.

Whether he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye or not, his gaze zeroed in on where she stood. His mouth moved and she made out what he was saying to her.

Help.

A chuckle erupted out of her. She nodded her understanding and moved away from the congregation of people. Cassandra made her way to the concierge.

“Good evening, how can I help you?”

“Hi.” She flicked her eyes down to his nametag and then back to his face. “Adam. My name’s Cassandra Fielder. I work with Star Image Consultants. I was hoping you could get some security to head over to the elevators. A group has congregated around some athletes I’m here with. I think they’d like to adjourn to their rooms for the evening.”

“Certainly, Ms. Fielder, we’ll have the situation rectified in a jiffy.”

“Thank you.”

With a nod, she turned and headed back to where the impromptu photo session was still underway. When she got to Brett, she found him surrounded by a group of women all wanting selfies with him.

Jealousy, sharp and hot, pierced her stomach, surprising her with its intensity.

This is not good.

She couldn’t be developing any sort of romantic attachment to Brett, could she? More to the point, why the hell would she? They hadn’t spent that much time together. Sure, he seemed to be acting completely differently than when she’d first met him. It didn’t mean he’d changed though. It would be just as easy for him to put on a front to get through the necessary tasks to get the job done in placating his sponsors.

So what if he seemed to genuinely care about the kids on the television show? Hadn’t she’d thought Michael cared for her? Hell, even loved her? That had turned out so well for her. Married at twenty-two, divorced at twenty-four. God, that stung. She hadn’t planned on being one of the failed marriages statistics.

No.

Cassandra shoved the thoughts of her divorce away. That was seven years ago. She was older and wiser now—wasn’t she? When she looked up and found Brett’s worried eyes on her, she wondered if she’d learned anything at all. Perhaps for the duration of her time with Brett, she’d be better off remembering what louses professional athletes could be. Besides, she had a job to do, and it started with attempting to disperse the crowd, with the help of the arriving security.

There could be no future with Brett Hunter. A fact she would do well to remember.