Chapter Twelve
The day was overcast and grim, matching the dismal mood of the mourners standing around the magnificent rosewood coffin on top of the open grave. The air was damp in the churchyard, the wind biting through the layers of Cassidy’s clothes, the black wool skirt and plum cable-knit turtleneck beneath her peacoat.
Beau wore a black Italian designer suit with handstitched lapels he’d had his assistant bring out to the house. A diamond tie tack kept his black-and-blue striped tie in place against the breeze. Without an overcoat, he had to be freezing, but he didn’t move, just stood with his back straight and his shoulders squared, staring at the casket draped with white roses.
The first part of the service, held in the chapel, had been packed wall to wall, filled with both locals and members of the Texas political community, people the senator had worked with at the capitol in Austin. There would have been more if Stewart Reese hadn’t been a murder victim, the motive for his death not yet clear, the culprit not yet apprehended.
As they had left the chapel for the graveyard portion of the service, a handsome, powerfully built, broad-shouldered man at least six-five and his attractive blond wife walked up to Beau. Cassidy had seen photos of Beau’s partner, Lincoln Cain, on the Internet. The woman had to be his new wife, Carly.
“I wish there was something I could do,” Cain said, gripping Beau’s hand, leaning in for a brief man hug.
“I’m so sorry, Beau.” Carly rose to kiss his cheek.
A third man walked up, with dark brown hair, about the same height as Beau but younger and a little more muscular through the chest and shoulders.
“If there’s anything you need,” the man said, shaking Beau’s hand, “I’m not that far away. All you have to do is ask.”
“Thanks, Josh.” Beau turned. “I’d like you all to meet Cassidy Jones. She’s the lady I told you about.”
Cassidy smiled at the group of friends, who seemed to be sizing her up. “Nice to meet you.”
“We’re glad Beau has you helping him,” Carly said.
Beau turned to the younger man. “Cassidy, this is Josh Cain, Linc’s younger brother.”
“Pleasure, ma’am,” Josh said, shaking her hand. She had a hunch he was a soldier. Or had been. She had a brother in the army. There was something different about servicemen. The way they stood, the way they moved, the way they spoke. Something.
She could see reminders of Linc in the hard line of his jaw, the slight cleft in his chin. Unlike his older brother, whose eyes were brown, Josh Cain’s eyes were a dark shade of blue.
The small group spoke in low tones as they crossed the grass toward the green canvas tent erected in front of the coffin. Cassidy stood next to Beau, and though they weren’t touching, she hoped he could feel her presence, silently lending him support.
Charlotte Reese stood on his other side, looking regal in a black skirt suit, blond hair swept up beneath a pillbox hat, a fine veil of black netting over her face.
At the edge of the crowd, Josie Kessler stood next to her daughter. Beau had spoken to her and Missy when they had arrived at the chapel, had invited them to sit with him, but they had declined.
Cassidy had taken a moment to speak to the girl, to apologize for her misunderstanding at the café and explain that she was a private investigator working on the case.
“I’m a friend of Beau’s,” she finished. “I’d like to be your friend, too.”
Missy managed a shy smile. “I’d like that.”
As the minister continued his sermon, every once in a while she noticed Beau’s worried gaze going over the heads of the mourners to the pregnant girl and Josie. Missy was more enormous than ever. She looked ready to pop, her face puffy and still a little too pale.
Whatever happened, Cassidy was certain Beau would take care of her and her baby.
The minister’s voice pierced her thoughts as the brief, graveside portion of the funeral came to a close.
“And so we deliver into God’s hands, this man, Stewart Beaumont Reese, who dedicated his life to the service of the people he represented. Shall we pray?”
Cassidy bowed her head, let the minister’s words wash over her. He had only begun to pray when a sharp cry sliced through the quiet. Cassidy’s head jerked up in time to see Beau’s tall figure leap into action, long legs moving him through the crowd, which parted like sheaves of wheat in a storm as he strode toward Missy.
Cassidy hurried behind him, racing to keep up, spotting the girl’s prone figure writhing on the ground.
“Call 9-1-1!” someone shouted. Cassidy dug out her cell, but at least three people were already on their phones. Beau was kneeling, scooping the girl up in his arms, striding across the churchyard toward the black stretch limo that had carried him and Cassidy to the service that morning.
The driver opened the door and Beau ducked his head and disappeared into the back seat, Missy still in his arms. Josie jumped in and so did Cassidy.
“Drive!” Beau commanded. “She’s having a baby. You need to get to the hospital as fast as you can!”
The driver—Andy was his name—didn’t hesitate. As soon as the door slammed shut, he hit the gas. When the limo had arrived that morning, Andy had recognized Beau as the celebrated race-car driver.
Now, as the limo careened down the road, bounced out of the churchyard, and speeded toward the hospital, Andy seemed determined not to let his racing hero down.
Beau cradled Missy in his lap. “You’re gonna be all right, sweetheart. The doctors are going to take care of you.”
Cassidy made sure of that by calling ahead and letting them know they were bringing in a woman in labor and that they would be there any minute.
Missy whimpered. “Oh, God, it hurts.”
Her mother gripped her hand. “Do your breathing, honey. Remember how they taught you in class? Take deep, focused breaths, then pant through the contraction. In and out through your nose.” Josie started breathing, panting, then breathing. Missy closed her eyes and joined her mother.
By the time they got to the hospital, all of them were panting and breathing, including Beau. Cassidy could read the fear in his eyes, the worry lining his forehead.
“It’s going to be okay,” he kept saying to Missy. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Cassidy felt a pinch in her chest at the concern in his voice. Clearly he was going to be a great older brother to Missy’s baby girl.
The doctors were waiting when the limo pulled up in front of the emergency entrance. The car doors flew open. Beau helped Missy out, then helped the nurses lift her up on the gurney. Her water had broken and his slacks were damp and wrinkled but he didn’t seem to care. Reaching down, he wrapped his fingers around Missy’s hand and walked beside the gurney till the nurses shooed him away and the gurney disappeared down the hall.
“Are you the father?” a tall, black-haired nurse asked.
Beau just shook his head. “I’m the baby’s brother.”
It took a moment for the nurse to figure that one out, then she smiled. “Women have babies every day. Missy’s going to be fine. Her mother’s going into the delivery room with her.”
“Good,” Beau said, nodding. “That’s good.”
“The baby’s coming a little early,” the nurse said. “I understand Missy was attending a funeral. If she was upset, it might have brought on the contractions.”
Beau looked up, color washing out of his face. “So the baby is premature? Is she going to be okay?”
“The doctor is in with them now. It’s only a week or so early. I’ll let you know how things are going. There’s a waiting room just down the hall.” The nurse smiled. “I have to warn you, this may take a while. First babies tend to take longer.”
“How long is longer?” he asked.
“I think the average is something like eight hours. As I said, I’ll keep you posted.” The nurse left them standing in the hallway.
Cassidy squeezed Beau’s hand, which felt icy cold. “Why don’t I have Andy drive me back to the house so I can get you some fresh clothes?”
He looked down, seemed to finally notice how completely disheveled he was. “All right. I keep a go-bag packed. It’s got jeans and T-shirts, toiletries, everything I need. It’s in the closet in the guest room.”
“I’ll find it. I won’t be long.”
He looked down at her. “I keep having to say thank you.”
She smiled. “It’s all right. I’ll find a way for you to repay me.”
For the first time that day, Beau looked at her and his eyes gleamed. His mouth edged into a sexy smile. “I think I know exactly the way.”
* * *
Seven hours and forty minutes later, Beau had the sibling he’d always wanted. A baby sister, Evelyn, named after Missy’s grandmother. Evie, they planned to call her. Six pounds thirteen ounces, ten miniature fingers, ten miniature toes, perfect in every way.
After a long, exhausting day, the first time Beau saw the infant, nestled against her mother’s breast, a feeling moved over him unlike anything he had ever known. So tiny, so sweet, so completely dependent on the people who cared for her. A fierce surge of protectiveness rushed through him. He would protect this child with everything he had.
His thoughts must have shown on his face, for when he looked over at Cassidy, she smiled at him softly and wiped a tear from her cheek.
Though the birth had gone well, the doctors decided to keep Missy and Evie overnight for observation. He and Cassidy said their good-byes, left the hospital, and drove back to the house in Cassidy’s Honda, which she’d driven to the hospital when she’d brought him clean clothes.
He was tired clear to the bone. His emotions had run the gamut from deep sadness to wild elation. Now he felt utterly drained.
Go-bag in hand, he walked Cassidy to the door of the guest house before heading for his own bed in his father’s big, empty residence across the lawn. She paused on the porch, turned and looked up at him.
“Rough day,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?” Concern shone in her face, and when she looked up at him with worry in those big green eyes, suddenly he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay at all.
“No.” He glanced away, shook his head. “I don’t know . . . I just . . . I feel like everything is so screwed up.” His gaze returned to her pretty face and desire hit him like a fist. The go-bag slipped from his fingers. He slid a hand into her thick dark curls and drew her toward him. “I need you, Cassidy. So much.”
She leaned into him. “Beau . . .” Going up on her toes, she kissed him. “I need you, too.”
Everything tore loose inside him. Hunger, pain, joy, need, all mixed together. Beau caught her face between his hands and kissed her, a deep, yearning, taking kiss he felt in every cell in his body. Cassidy kissed him back, opening, giving him access, holding nothing in. He ravished her mouth, plundered her greedily, endlessly.
He barely remembered walking her backward into the living room, kicking the door closed, pulling her turtleneck over her head, unfastening her black lace bra, letting it fall to the floor.
He paused to look at her breasts, full and beautiful, tipped slightly upward. He cupped them, ran his hands over her dark rose nipples. She moaned as he bent his head and took the fullness into his mouth, suckled greedily, bit the end. Cassidy shoved off the lightweight jacket she had brought to him at the hospital, grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, and pulled it off over his head.
Her fingers traveled over his chest, dipped into the ridges and valleys, over the ladder of muscles down his stomach, moved restlessly back up to his shoulders. He took a moment to look at her, the flush in her cheeks, the tousled dark hair. Pale, lovely breasts rose and fell with every ragged breath. A small waist flared to womanly hips.
“God, I want you.” He kissed her again, couldn’t seem to get enough. Cassidy leaned into him, her arms going around his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair. Her tongue tangled with his as he backed her up against the living room wall and shoved up her black wool skirt, smoothed a hand over her hip, down to the thin strip of lace between her legs.
She was wet. So hot and wet. He wanted to be inside her more than he wanted to see another sunrise.
He let go of her long enough to retrieve the condom in his wallet, kissed her as he freed himself and rolled it on.
“I need you, baby. Now. Here. I don’t want to wait.” His fingers caught hold of the lace between her legs; he gave a sharp tug and the delicate fabric tore free.
Cassidy moaned as he lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist. He heard her shoes hit the carpet, then he was filling her, sliding deep inside.
For a moment he paused, letting her tight, wet heat envelope him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he started to move, began to take what he wanted, what he so desperately needed.
Propping her back against the wall, he took her deep, rode her hard, the little whimpers in her throat driving him on, making him hotter, more needy.
“Cassie, baby,” he said. “Sweet God, I want you. I don’t know how long I can last.”
She made a soft sound in her throat and rode him, didn’t back away from the hunger burning through him. Her head fell back as he surged deeper, and her body tightened around him, sucked him even deeper. Her climax hit hard, gloving him so sweetly it drove him over the edge. Pleasure rolled through him, deep and saturating, washing away the pain, the darkness.
For seconds he just held her, his face buried in her silky dark curls, inhaling the faint scent of gardenias.
Neither of them moved for the longest time. When he finally set her back on her feet, Cassidy leaned against him and Beau smoothed back her hair. “You okay?”
She just nodded. He moved away long enough to deal with the condom, returned to find her standing exactly where he’d left her.
“I hope I didn’t hurt you.” With her skirt around her waist and her perfect breasts tilting wickedly up at him, she looked beautiful and completely wanton, and he started getting hard again.
“You didn’t hurt me. That . . . that was amazing.”
He couldn’t stop a smile. “I thought so. I’m really glad you did, too.”
She looked down at herself and warm color rose in her cheeks. “I’d better get dressed.”
Beau shook his head. “No way, baby.” Hauling her back in his arms, he very thoroughly kissed her. “Wait right here.” Crossing to the door, he walked out on the porch and retrieved his go-bag.
He held up the bag and walked back into the living room. “Now I’m bedding you good and proper—like I should have done in the first place.”
When she just stared at him as if he had lost his mind, he bent, scooped her over one shoulder, walked into the bedroom and settled her on the bed. Unzipping the go-bag, he grabbed a handful of condoms and tossed them on the nightstand.
Cassidy didn’t move.
“Probably be a good idea if we finished getting undressed,” he said.
“Yes . . . of course. I’m . . . uh . . . not very good at this.”
His head came up as she eased to the side of the bed. “You don’t think so?”
“I don’t know. Tonight was the best sex I’ve ever had, so maybe I’m getting better.”
Beau laughed. “If you get any better, honey, you’re liable to kill me.”
She smiled at that, seemed to relax. “I could umm . . . really use a shower.”
He closed his eyes to block the image. “Good idea. It’s been a helluva day.” Beau waited till he heard the shower go on, heard Cassidy open and close the glass door, then followed her into the bathroom.
If that was the best sex Cassidy Jones had ever had, Beau figured she was in for some really nice surprises.