The Renegade (The Moorehouse Legacy #3)(34)

Sean cleared his throat. “Why won’t you tell me what happened that night you called me?”

“Oh, it was nothing. I was just a little emotional.”

“Over Moorehouse.”

“Sean—”

“I talked to him.”

Cass’s head whipped around so fast the car wobbled in their lane. “Alex?”

“None other. I called you on your cell first. Eventually he answered it.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much. But his tone of voice had been exactly like yours.”

Yeah, well, regret sounded the same, no matter whose mouth it was coming out of.

“Sean, I’m telling you, everything is fine.”

There was a pause. And then he said, “You and I are getting close. Right?”

She smiled. “You’re a good friend.”

“Damn straight. And I’d like to be more, except I know you don’t feel that way about me.”

“Oh, Sean—”

“Nah, don’t apologize for it. It’s better this way. I’ve got plenty of lovers, but I’ve never actually had a girlfriend before. Anyway, my point is, don’t lie to me. You shouldn’t have to, and frankly I take it as an insult.”

“Honestly, there’s nothing going on.”

Sean let out a disgusted noise, but he let the fib stand.

Cass pulled into Gray’s driveway. There were ten or so cars parked around the gravel circle and she was forced to take a spot right in front of the door. Lights glowed in the mansion’s diamond paned windows, and she could see people moving inside. She wondered which of the shadows was Alex’s.

She really didn’t feel up to the house party. Or being under the same roof with him again.

She turned off the engine and glanced at Sean. His hazel eyes were shrewd but warm. And that stare of his was seeing all the things she’d tried to hide behind makeup and haute couture.

“Cass, you should stay away from Moorehouse. That ‘nothing’ with him is killing you.”

Sean really didn’t miss much, did he?

And he truly was handsome, she thought, in a tough kind of way. Sure, his clothes were civilized; the black suit and the icy-white button-down and the red tie were very Wall Street/old school banker. But with his midnight hair and his hard jaw, his wide shoulders and long legs, Sean O’Banyon was all hot-blooded man underneath the gloss.

She took a deep breath.

He smelled good, too. Expensive cologne.

He was also uncomplicated. With him there was no baggage. No awkwardness. No on-the-ledge, about-to-falloff feeling.

“Why can’t I be attracted to you?” she wondered aloud.

His eyes flared. “Well…you could give me a try. You know, find out.”

Cass focused on his lips. They were beautifully made and a perfect deep pink color. As they parted a little, she caught the bright flash of his front teeth.

“If you want to kiss me,” he said quietly, “I’m more than ready for it.”

Lord help her, she leaned into him, tilted her head to the side and pressed her mouth to his.

She felt the rush of his breath going in fast, heard the hissing sound as it shot into his lungs. His body went rigid and shifted, as if he’d pushed his arms into the leather seat. She stroked his mouth a few times for good measure, trying to feel something, anything.

But it was pleasant. Nothing more.

Not what it had been like with Alex.

Cass pulled back.

Oh, what did she know? Alex had never actually put his mouth on hers.

Sean cleared his throat. “You really know how to kiss, woman. I can’t feel my toes.”

She laughed, appreciating his attempt to lighten things up. But when she looked at him, his stare was dead serious.

“You make me wish I were the man you really wanted.” He opened the car door. “Moorehouse is a fool.”

*

Alex stared out of the window in the living room, watching Cassandra kiss O’Banyon. The man was totally turned on; it was obvious in the way his eyes were shut and his body braced.

Alex glanced down at the floor, expecting to find his internal organs on it.

“Here’s your drink, Moorehouse,” Gray said. “What are you staring at—hey! Cass and SOB are here. Excellent.”

Bennett took off for the front door.

Alex tossed the scotch back. Then tortured himself by looking toward the foyer and waiting for the happy couple to come inside.

It seemed appropriate that a chilling breeze followed them into the house.

Oh, terrific, the guy was carrying her. And not in a big hurry to put her down as their hosts came up to greet them.

There was a swell of laughter as Cass pointed to her high heels and Sean lowered her to the floor. Tonight, she was dressed in full Manhattan socialite armor: a sleek black pantsuit with ropes of big pearls linked around her neck. At her side O’Banyon was looking a little flushed, no doubt from what had happened back in the car, not the over-the-threshold routine. His big smile was grating as hell.

As more people stepped forward to say hello to the new arrivals, Alex stayed back, wishing he could leave. Spike was into the party, though, talking with a knot of women in the corner. And the guy’s car was a stick.

Cassandra was laughing when she turned and saw him.