21. CARSON

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Shit!

One second Cassie and I are on the verge of throwing caution to the wind and doing it right here in the restaurant coatroom, now she’s trying to zip up her dress by herself with a look of panic in her eyes

I should have known Cassie is too sophisticated a lady to have sex in a public place. Or is it just that she doesn’t want to have sex with me?

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, gathering up her things. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

Her breasts are still pushing out of her gown, so I step around behind her and zip her up the rest of the way.

“No, I’m sorry,” I say. “This was inappropriate. Maybe we should take this back to my place.”

Her eyes widen like matching blue supernovas.

“I can’t!” she yelps, rushing to the door. “I have to go!”

Way to go, Carson. Make the love of your life feel like a bimbo by mauling her in a fucking coatroom.

“Let me take you home,” I say, already knowing she won’t take me up on it. I feel helpless, useless. How did I screw this up so badly?

“That’s all right, I can get a cab.”

The subtext is clear: I don’t need your help.

She runs her hand through her red curls, trying to smooth them into something more presentable. Her eyes are darting everywhere, like someone is after her.

My mind immediately flashes back to that night in the barracks and my heart cramps. That memory prompts another thought: Cassie Vincent is running out on me. Again.

It’s selfish and uncharitable, I know. Unfair, even. But I can’t help the feeling of déjà vu.

“Will I see you again?” I ask. Might as well be blunt. I never got the chance the last time this happened.

The look she gives me makes me think of a cornered animal.

“I-I can’t,” she says. “Not now. I’m just too busy. With other things.”

Her eyes brighten.

“With business!” she blurts. “The deal! Lots to do. I need an early night. Maybe – maybe in a couple of weeks? Say on August 15?” She looks at me pleadingly.

My eyes narrow. If Cassie thinks Carson Drake is going to sit around and wait until she feels like calling him sometime, she’s got another thing coming. I have women lined up to spend a night with me!

Hell, all I’d have to do right now is call Maksim and get that brunette’s number from the Boom Boom Room and boom! She’d be in my room. I know I’m acting out. I know that Cassie’s dismissal – for a second time – is bringing up bad memories. Hell, some kind of long-repressed psychodrama is most definitely coming to the surface.

I know all that, and yet I can’t stop myself from acting out my part, as though I’m merely an actor in some Shakespearean play.

“Whatever,” I say with a smile. “I’ll give you a call some time.”

She gives me an unfathomable look. I used to be able to read everything beneath those opal-colored eyes. Now I don’t have a clue what she’s thinking.

“I mean it,” she says. “I really am just too busy right now.”

“Sure, I understand. I’ve actually got a lot lined up for the next couple weeks, too.”

Most of that involves throwing myself into the Chase with everything I’ve got. Using the hurt that’s even now bubbling back up to the surface. Using it to win.

Cassie straightens her dress one last time and steps into the atrium that will take her back into the Museum of Modern Art and the exit to the street. She looks around at the breathtaking art on the walls, then back at me.

“I really did have a wonderful time tonight,” she says.

Of course you did, I say to myself. You spent it with Carson Drake. Not spending the rest of it with me is your loss, not mine.

Keep telling yourself that, buddy.

“Me too,” I say. “I’ll see you again. Good night, Cassie. Sorry, I guess it’s Sandra now, isn’t it?”

“No,” she says. “From now on, it’s Cassie. Always.”

She gives me a sheepish wave and heads into the museum. I stand there, watching her walk away, until she turns a corner and is gone.

“Mr. Drake?”

A female voice behind me startles me out of my reverie. It’s Helene, the maître d, an elegant brunette in a black shift dress.

“Yes?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were in the coatroom for an extended period of time.”

I work hard to keep blood from flowing to my cheeks.

“Yes,” I say. “Sorry, my date’s scarf was caught on something and we had to untangle it.”

She nods knowingly and I realize I’m not fooling her.

“That would explain the noises. I couldn’t help but notice that she left on her own. I hope everything is all right.”

“She, uh – she has a busy morning tomorrow.”

Helene smiles. It’s practically a leer.

“I’m off in a few minutes,” she says. “In case you don’t have a busy morning tomorrow.”

And suddenly I’m Carson Drake again. The Carson Drake, man about town, eligible billionaire bachelor.

“Such a tempting offer,” I say. “But I’m afraid I do have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

Her smile turns into a pout.

“A pity.”

I flash her a grin I don’t feel.

“Yes, it is.”

She turns and walks back into the restaurant. Her long legs pivot with every precise step, turning her shapely ass into a perfect 180-degree oscillating gyroscope.

Aaand just as suddenly, I’m that geek from high school again. Sigh.

What I do know for sure is that I need to stop focusing on Cassie Vincent and start focusing on my quarry. I can’t afford any more pointless distractions.

The Chase is underway and the game, as Sherlock Holmes said, is afoot.