Chapter Eleven
Cassie hitched her purse over her shoulder and walked briskly across the Nest’s parking lot. She clicked the fob on her key chain and the Trail Blazer doors locked with a thunk behind her. She pushed open the Nest’s rear door and froze.
“Surprise!” everyone shouted as they rushed forward to hug her.
An oversize donut as large as a small tire and slathered in pink and white icing perched on top of a cake platter on the butcher-block table. Someone had adorned it with bright pink candles, the flames of which danced and flickered in the draft.
As the clapping continued, tears filled Cassie’s eyes and a lump the size of a softball clogged her throat. Rose put her arm around Cassie’s shoulders and urged her forward. “We wanted to show our appreciation for what you did yesterday.”
For a moment, Cassie was speechless. Then she wanted to laugh at her friends’ choice of pastry. Everyone knew the stereotype that cops loved donuts. They just didn’t know she was a cop.
“Thank you, all of you,” she finally managed to mumble. “I can’t believe you did this for me. From where I was standing, Mike saved all of us.”
Rose nodded. “I have to give the man credit, but you saved Abby and her baby and kept that crazy kid calm until Mike could get here. I’d say that’s something. But fear not. I’ll be sure to extend my thanks to him in the form of free chipotle chili for the rest of his life. And,” Rose added, “I’m thinking you’ll find your own way to thank him as well.”
Sue and Ginny giggled and even Cassie couldn’t help smiling. She would find her own way to thank Mike. Her stomach did a little somersault in anticipation of their date later that evening. She’d woken in the morning to find him gone, but a note lay on the empty pillow next to her.
I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear a dress. Mike.
“By the way,” Rose added with an amused, knowing gleam in her eyes, “Mike certainly took his sweet time taking your statement last night. I made Jimmy drive by your place twice to check on you, and both times Mike’s truck was parked out front. I would have phoned, but I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”
Leo and Danny snickered like teenage boys, letting Cassie know there was no doubt in their minds what Mike had been doing at her house last night. Too bad they were all wrong. Too bad nothing had happened last night.
She glared with feigned indignation, but secretly she loved the camaraderie that existed between all of them.
“Now cut your donut.” Rose handed her a serrated knife. “We can all use the sugar rush before the place cranks up for the day.”
Cassie began cutting the donut into thick wedges. “Speaking of we, where’s Chuck?” She’d noticed he was conspicuously absent from the kitchen.
“Pennsylvania.” Rose helped pass out hunks of donut. “His father fell and broke his hip last night.”
Cassie looked up from slicing. “Will he be okay?”
“Yes, but Chuck went to his dad’s to help out for a few days. I told him to take a week if he needed it.”
“No problem.” Cassie handed Rose a piece of donut. “Leo and I can cover everything here.”
Five minutes later, Cassie licked the last of the gooey sweet pink and white frosting off her fingers and poured herself a cup of coffee before the breakfast mob descended. As she raised the mug to her mouth an unfamiliar ringing had her looking up to see Rose installing a roll of receipt paper in what looked to be a brand-new, top-of-the-line cash register.
“You certainly work fast,” Cassie said as she walked to the front counter.
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” Rose finished installing the roll of paper and snapped the lid shut. The new register let out a series of computerized beeps and spat out a few inches of test paper Rose ripped off and crumpled into a ball. “Yesterday I saw my maker and that gave me the will.”
Cassie looked around the counter. “What did you do with the old register?”
“Made good use of it.” She pointed to a shelf on the wall where the antique register sat quietly. Its open cash drawer was now a practical shelf for three small terra-cotta pots brimming with silk African violets. “It served us well, God rest its soul,” Rose jested in a sad voice.
“How did you get it open?”
“You can’t see it, but Jimmy took a sledge hammer to the back of the thing, and voilà.” Rose flicked her fingers. “It opened.” She cast a sorrowful look at her beloved but uncooperative antique. “It will forever be a part of Hopewell Springs history.”
“Boss,” Cassie said, leaning across the counter and resting her hand on Rose’s shoulder in a solemn gesture, “you have my sincere condolences.”
“Thank you.” Rose balled her hand and wiped an invisible tear from the corner of her eye.
“Not at all.” Cassie took a sip from her mug and turned to head back to the kitchen.
“Wait.” Rose pulled a newspaper from one of two thick stacks and held it up. “If you haven’t seen this yet, you’re very photogenic.”
Cassie nearly choked on her coffee.
Front page, side-by-side photos taken by the photographer yesterday stared up at her. The first photo immortalized Rose and Jimmy’s steamy embrace. It was the other picture that had her mind screaming in terror.
She plunked her mug onto the counter and grabbed the paper from Rose’s hand, praying that on closer inspection the clarity of the photo would diminish.
It didn’t.
Staring back at her was a relatively clear image of herself before she’d raised her hands to block her face.
Cassie gripped the paper tighter. “What kind of circulation does this paper have?”
“Very limited, nothing like the Albany Herald.” Rose patted the other stack of newspapers on the counter. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Gazette outside our little burg. No one cares much what happens around here except us.”
A sliver of hope.
But the coffee in Cassie’s stomach rolled and churned nonetheless.
“Something wrong?” Rose had clearly picked up on Cassie’s agitation. “You’re not wanted by the police, are you? ’Cause I can’t afford to have my head chef arrested.”
“No, don’t be silly.” Cassie plastered on a phony smile.
“Good. With Chuck gone, I’m already down one chef.” Rose’s tone became joking. “If Mike had to arrest you, I’d have to close the place down. We can’t operate the kitchen with just Leo.”
Cassie glanced again at the front page and a heavy weight settled onto her shoulders. With the Gazette’s extremely limited circulation, she wasn’t certain a safety risk really existed. And she couldn’t abandon Rose with no chef. Leo was a prep-chef and didn’t have anywhere near the experience Chuck did.
She fisted her hands, crumpling the edges of the newspaper. The urge to confide in someone was growing exponentially with each passing day. These were her friends and deceiving them sat in her gut about as pleasantly as an acid milkshake.
“Are you bothered by having your picture in the paper?” Rose asked.
Cassie recovered her composure and set the newspaper onto the counter. “Nah,” she lied. “And tell Jimmy the photographer captured his good side.”
An ear-to-ear smile lit Rose’s face. “That’s exactly what Jimmy said last night after we—” Her hand flew to her mouth and her face flushed to a bright shade of radish-red.
“Rose, you didn’t! I hope you remembered to practice safe sex.”
“Oh, honey,” Rose said, tilting her chin down and glancing in either direction, “nothing about sex with that man is safe.”
Cassie grinned. “I’m so happy for you. And it’s about time.”
Rose sighed. “I suppose it is.”
The front door bell jingled and the first customer of the day walked in.
“I’d better get back to work.” Cassie grabbed her mug. “Wouldn’t want to stifle revenue.” She winked at Rose and cast one more look at the newspaper.
Can things possibly get any worse?
Don’t ask. You’ve been a cop long enough to know things can always get worse.
Cassie left Rose clicking the remote at the TV attached to the wall. She caught sight of Joshua Mosely, New Jersey’s senatorial candidate, being interviewed by a talking head from one of the major stations in New York City. They were discussing his landslide victory in the recent primary. Maybe she could finally vote for someone who didn’t squander taxpayer money like the incumbent Aaron Miller. Miller was a popular, camera-savvy politician, but he drained the state coffer as if it was his own personal checking account.
In the back of the kitchen, Cassie dumped the remains of her coffee into the sink and turned on the tap. She watched the creamy brown liquid spiral into the drain. Her stomach was clenching enough without adding caffeine to the mix. She rested her hands on the cold metal rim of the sink, pausing to absorb the Nest’s ritualistic sounds and smells that she’d come to love.
Coffee sputtered as it dripped from a commercial machine into half a dozen carafes. The Columbian coffee’s rich aroma mingled with the scents of melted butter, golden brown onions, and crispy hash brown potatoes sautéing and sizzling on the grill.
The Nest still had her tingling with as much excitement now as it had the first day she’d walked in.
Was there a chance when this was all over she really could start a new life here in Hopewell Springs?
God, what a change in lifestyle that would be. Her family would be shocked at her decision to leave the force. No one in the Yates family had ever quit the NYPD. Gray would have a cow and tell her she was nuts. Lt. Frye would piss bullets. Dom, the big lug, might even cry.
Cassie tied a clean apron around her waist and began whisking custard for her orange crème brûlée French toast. For the moment, she would stay in Hopewell Springs but be extra vigilant. As soon as Chuck returned, she could reassess the wisdom of going home and into a safe house.
“Have you seen that guy who’s running for senator in New Jersey?” Sue had come into the kitchen and started filling the empty stainless-steel creamers with half-and-half. “He’s not bad looking at all.”
“I suppose,” Cassie said as she dipped bread slices into the custard. From the dining room, Mosely’s clear, polished voice filtered into the kitchen. “I haven’t had time to watch a single debate.”
“If you ask me”—Sue picked up the tray of creamers—“you have too much Mike Flannery on the brain to think about anything else.” She winked before heading out to the dining area.
Cassie smiled, her stomach fluttering as she recalled how Mike had kissed her last night. Buzzed and exhausted though she’d been, she could still recall every erotic, aching sensation in the wake of that one kiss.
Her heart had slammed against her ribs, her breath catching in her throat. Blatantly sensual didn’t begin to adequately describe Mike Flannery.
There was infinitely more to him than just his uniform. Getting to know Mike was like scraping layers and layers of paint off a valuable antique. The more paint she stripped away, the more of the mysterious and multidimensional man shone through.
She’d stereotyped him as a macho jerk in a uniform. True, he was as capable and tough a cop as she’d ever seen and clearly had the respect and admiration of his men. He commanded it, not demanded it. But there was also the gentle, caring side to the man. The side that had held her in his arms and comforted her when she’d awoken briefly last night from a horrifying nightmare.
In her dream, a shadowy man stalked her. Most of the man’s features were ambiguous, with two noteworthy exceptions: a goatee and a hook-shaped nose. Oddly, she’d also dreamed about the bearded man with the creepy gray eyes—the one guy who’d been lucky enough to walk out the door of La Femme minutes before the takedown.
“So tell me,” Rose said as Cassie slid a tray of toast into the oven, “how was last night? Really.”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Mike carried me upstairs, and I fell asleep. Nothing happened.” Damn shame, too.
Rose placed her hand over her heart. “That is one of the most romantic things I ever heard. He could have taken advantage of you, but he didn’t. Not that I’m surprised. Mike may have one of the hottest bodies in all of New York State, but he’s also an officer and a gentleman. Did he ask you out yet?”
Cassie breathed a sigh that even she had to admit sounded dreamy. “Actually, I asked him out. Which reminds me, he’s picking me up at seven, so I want to get started early with Leo prepping the food for Mike’s PBA table. That way I can get home in time to let Raven outside, take a bath, and get all dolled up. Makeup, a dress.” God, she hadn’t worn a dress in ages.
“Oh, no!” Rose’s brown eyes grew as big as sausage patties. “Your date is for tonight?”
“Yes, why?” Cassie set down the spatula. It didn’t take a world-class detective to see Rose was about to drop an A-bomb on her evening plans.
“Oh, honey.” Contrition was written all over Rose’s face. “Leo has his first date with Ginny tonight. I said okay, but that was before Chuck had to leave town.”
Cassie’s heart sank.
So much for the hottest date of my life.
No way could she prep that much food by herself in time for her date, and there was no way she could turn Rose down. The food was for Mike’s charity. Surely he’d understand her canceling on him.
Rose shook her head. “I’ll tell Leo he has to postpone his plans. There’s no other way. Ginny’s a good kid. She’ll get over it.”
“They’re both good kids.” Cassie glanced to the back door where Leo was signing the produce man’s invoice. “I wouldn’t dream of asking him to cancel. Don’t worry about it.”
Rose gave her a wan smile. “I’m sorry. I’d help you, honestly I would, but I can’t cook to save my ever-lovin’ life. When I had my place in the city, do you know what I made for dinner every night?”
“What?”
“Reservations.” Rose let out a bitter laugh, but her forehead was still creased in concern.
“It’s okay,” Cassie said. “Just make me a list of what you want prepared.”
“Oh, thank you, sweetie.” Rose threw her arms around her and gave her a tight hug. She pulled away, adding, “I’ll pay you extra for this. It’s about the only thing I can do to make up for killing your plans. That, and apologize to Mike for you.”
“No need.” Cassie shoved another batch of toast into the oven. “It’s for a good cause, and I have no intention of accepting any money. Plus, I owe Mike a favor.”
“That’s true.” Rose snickered. “To make up for trying to poison him. A fair trade if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” Cassie said.
Rose laughed. “You know that snobby Chef Pierre insisted I pay him overtime for this. I don’t think that man had one ounce of goodwill in his plump, arrogant body. You’re as honest as they come.”
If you only knew.
When Rose disappeared into the dining area, Cassie braced her hands on the table. How would the town react when they learned how dishonest she’d been? How would Mike react?
No matter the outcome, her decision was made. As soon as the La Femme case was tied up, she was done with her old life. Done with police work.
Cassie pulled the last of the dozen sheet cakes from the oven and glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Seven-fifteen and no word from Mike.
The scents of warm vanilla and almond extracts filled the kitchen as she set the cake pans onto a cooling rack. She headed to the walk-in refrigerator and hauled out several bins of whole chickens.
She’d left two messages for Mike at the station, the second one including a detailed explanation as to why she had to cancel their date. His dispatcher informed her Mike was tied up with business all day but assured her he’d get the messages as soon as he returned to the office.
Then she’d called Dom to update him about her newly acquired hometown fame. To say her partner had not been pleased was an understatement of biblical—no, make that cosmic—proportions. After enduring his tirade about not waiting for a hostage negotiator, he subjected her to a lengthy lecture about putting her life more in danger than it already was. She cringed at how Gray would take the news. Her brother would be even less forgiving than her partner. Since Gray outranked her, he might even order her to pack up and get out of town. And she would, as soon as Chuck returned.
Cassie dropped a chicken onto the butcher-block table and began whacking it into pieces with a cleaver, all the while reviewing the update her partner had provided.
Unexpectedly, the financial lookups on Manici and La Femme were linked to a bank in the Cayman Islands. Dom had cursed about what a colossal bitch it would be getting detailed information on that account since the Cayman banking system protected their clients’ privacy more than the Swiss.
In no time, Cassie had cut enough legs, thighs, and breasts to keep Mike’s table in balsamic-glazed chicken for the entire picnic. By the time she finished browning and baking it all, she ought to be done by…oh, midnight or so.
She dropped the cleaver into a plastic bin of sudsy warm water that splashed all over her shirt. “Crap.”
“Got your message,” came a deep voice from behind her.
Cassie spun to see Mike with his shoulder hitched against the doorjamb and holding the biggest bouquet of lilacs she’d ever seen. Fluffy purple blooms cascaded over his tanned arm.
There it was again—those butterflies in her belly. Blood shot to all the important parts of her body, including those that hadn’t experienced a man’s touch in ages.
Light gray slacks outlined Mike’s long legs. A dark blue button-down, short-sleeved dress shirt tapered from his broad shoulders to where he’d tucked it into his belted slacks. Slacks that did incredible things to his perfectly carved hips and thighs.
Cassie smoothed her wrinkled plum-colored T-shirt with her hands, dismally aware of the food stains that spotted her clothes from head to toe.
“These are for you.” An adorable, boyish grin crept to his face as he handed her the lilacs.
“Thank you.” She smiled and held the bouquet to her nose, inhaling the deep, unique floral scent. “My favorite flower. How did you know?”
He leaned in close and inhaled what she knew to be her lilac-scented perfume. She loved it so much she dabbed a bit at her neck every day, even before work. Tingles skittered up her neck and down her back.
“Hmm.” Mike twirled a lock of her hair around his fingers. “Must be my keen investigative sense. You always smell like lilacs. So does your bedroom.” He looked at her from hungry, heavy-lidded eyes, an intimate reminder of where last night hadn’t gone.
And where tonight wasn’t going, either.
“Let me put these in some water.” She went to the sink and found a vase on an overhead shelf and began filling it. “Sorry about canceling.” She dropped the flowers into the vase and set it on the adjacent counter. “Chuck had to go out of town on a family emergency and Leo has his first big date with Ginny tonight, so—”
“So…” Mike said, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling the back of her neck. “You’re pulling an all-nighter cooking alone for my PBA table tomorrow.”
Cassie turned in his arms to see the beginnings of a bold, seductive smile on his mouth. She slid her hands along his upper arms beneath his shirtsleeves. Rock-hard biceps rippled as her fingers glided over his taut skin. And he smelled so, so good.
She sighed heavily. “I don’t think I’ll be done here until late. Very late.”
“Is that why you have such a worried look on your beautiful face?”
“Beautiful?” She laughed. “Hardly. I’m filthy, sweaty, and I need a long shower to clean away the stains and smells from cooking all day.”
“Yes, definitely beautiful.” Mike flashed a gorgeous white smile, and those butterflies in her belly fluttered faster, more like hummingbirds. “And you don’t need a shower to smell good to me.” He nuzzled her neck again, and when he dropped a hot, wet kiss just below her ear, Cassie’s knees nearly buckled.
“C’mon.” He chucked her under the chin and pulled her toward the stove. “We have a lot of cooking to do.”
“We?”
He turned so abruptly she slammed into the solid wall of his chest. “We,” he repeated. “I’m helping. That way you can finish sooner and maybe we can grab a late bite.” He leaned down to nip at her lower lip.
Cassie looked up into his smoldering gaze, and his mouth came down hard, capturing hers in a breathless kiss that left her entire body quivering. She lifted her arms, intending to link her hands around his neck, when he released her.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” he said, leaving her wanting to tear off his clothes and jump him right there on the prep table.
Ten minutes later, she was flabbergasted to see Mike expertly wielding paring knives, large chopping knives, sautéing vegetables, and browning meat and chicken with the ease and efficiency of someone who’d spent his entire life working in a restaurant.
“You’ve been holding out on me.” Cassie shot him an accusing look as she pulled several large aluminum pans from the oven. Smells of sausage, peppers and onions, and balsamic-glazed roast chicken rose from the steaming, bubbling pans.
“How so?”
“You’ve obviously spent a little time in a kitchen before.”
A slow, sensual smile turned his lips upward, and Cassie’s heart somersaulted like a pancake being flipped on a hot grill. She suddenly forgot how tired and achy her feet were from standing for more than sixteen hours straight.
“Come on.” She pointed a set of long silver tongs at him. “I can be as effective at interrogation as you are, so you might as well fess up.”
He laughed in that deep, sexy bass she’d come to love. “My parents own an Irish pub in Manhattan. My siblings and I spent more time growing up there than we did in our house. We started out bussing tables then moved up to prepping and cooking. Summers during college we spent at the pub.”
Cassie’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. She couldn’t have been more shocked if Mike had said he’d been a circus clown.
He grabbed a set of tongs and transferred the browned chicken to one of several aluminum pans. “But that’s tavern food, nothing as fancy as what you do. You have a real talent.”
Cassie shook her head, still trying to digest this completely new side of Mike. And, unlike most cops she knew, they still hadn’t talked about his job all night.
“So how many thugs do you arrest every month?” She raised her eyebrows and waited.
Mike shrugged. “Don’t keep track.”
“Really?” A cop who didn’t tally his own arrests? “Don’t cops carve a notch into their belts every time they bust someone?”
He laughed. “Who told you that?”
“I think I read it in Cosmopolitan. No…” she paused, pretending to be deep in thought, “…maybe it was Vanity Fair. It was an article about men who equate their professional exploits with the size of their manhood and sexual stamina.”
Mike grinned. “You worried since I don’t have a hundred notches on my belt I won’t”—he lowered his gaze to his crotch, then raised his eyes back to hers—“measure up?”
“Oh, my heavens.” Cassie put her hand to her chest, stifling a laugh. “I didn’t mean to imply that article applied to you, specifically. I meant no offense.”
“None taken.” The hot, sensual look he gave her left no doubt in Cassie’s mind that size and stamina were most definitely not a problem for Mike. “In defense of my ego, Jimmy and I made a lot of arrests when we first got here, but things have been quiet for years.” He pointed the spatula he held in her direction. “That is until you got here and all hell broke loose.” He shook his head and turned back to the grill.
“Yeah.” She grimaced and began icing one of the cooled sheet cakes. “Sorry about that, Chief.”
“No problem,” he said over his shoulder. “Things were getting a little boring around here, and the new guys need the experience.”
“In that case, I’m glad to have contributed in some small way to their on-the-job training.”
Two hours later, Cassie dropped the last piece of chicken into a pan.
“If I had to do this alone,” she said, “my feet would be screaming in agony in the morning. As it is, they are anyway.”
“Then I suggest,” Mike said as he carried a pan to the refrigerator, “that we finish up so I can give you the best foot massage you’ve ever had.”
“You’ve got a deal.” She raced to crimp lids on the remaining pans of chicken and sausage.
After the food had been stowed in the refrigerator, Cassie sat on a stool while Mike’s strong hands kneaded and worked the sore, achy muscles in her arches. “Mmmm.” She closed her eyes, enjoying the riotous, tingling sensations in her feet. “You are truly gifted.”
His hands stilled, and she opened her eyes and followed his line of sight. Her nipples jutted sharply against the plum fabric of her T-shirt. His sculpted jaw tensed, and his throat worked as he cleared it. The smoldering look he gave her was so powerful her breath caught in her throat.
“Cassie.” His voice was thick, husky, laden with the heat of desire hovering in the air.
“What?” she whispered. The way her heart slammed against her ribs, she could barely hear her own voice.
“Your place or mine?”