All the Right Moves(45)

“Hey,” Mike said, “I gotta get back to work. For the hell of it, mention dinner to Cassie. Maybe the next time she has a free night the four of us can get together.”

“Sure,” John said. “I’ll do that.” Naturally he wouldn’t. He already knew how she felt about Gwen. What bothered him more at the moment was the implied warning from Mike.

While he appreciated the intent, he didn’t like the assumption behind it. Cassie was nothing like Gwen. The two women didn’t even belong on the same planet together. He wasn’t talking about Gwen’s sense of style, either, because whatever made a woman feel like she looked good was fine by him. It was her sense of boundaries that made John uncomfortable. Gwen might be a wonderful wife, someone Mike dearly loved, but she did him no favors.

They disconnected, and John went to the kitchen to get rid of the cold coffee. In a way, he felt sorry for Mike. The other wives and girlfriends didn’t seem high on Gwen, either, and John suspected that as a couple they probably weren’t invited to more intimate gatherings. Cassie was fresh off the boat. She didn’t know Gwen yet and might be willing to get cozy. Or...

John kept circling back to the notion that Mike perceived Cassie as a version of his wife. He obviously didn’t know Cassie, so it was nothing to get annoyed over. And what did John care, anyway? He’d never given a damn about what his fellow officers expected of him outside his duties. Of course, he’d always toed the line. Gone out with women who were either one-night flings or bring-home-to-momma material.

Cassie wasn’t either one. He certainly wanted more than last night and this morning. But getting serious? Nah, this was a leave thing. That was all.

With a heaviness in his chest, he refilled his mug. He had to admit, though, that when she’d said her parents were bikers...he’d cringed. It had been complete reflex, and he’d covered the gaffe quickly. Lucky for him, Cassie hadn’t seen it. But just because he’d gotten away with being a jerk didn’t mean he was in the clear. He felt like crap every time the memory flashed.

Maybe it was Gwen’s style that made him not like her. Maybe he was a stuck-up pilot who thought he was better than everyone else. He’d have to be deaf, blind and stupid not to see that was the prevailing attitude of his kind.

His kind.

Yes, he led a charmed life, always had, really. But he’d never thought of himself as a snob. Probably because he was up to his eyeballs in snobs just like himself.

Maybe accepting Wagner’s offer to be his personal pilot would be a smart move. It would get John into the real world. As soon as the thought sunk in, he caught the error in his thinking. He would only be trading one rarified subculture for another. Tony Wagner was extremely wealthy. The hotels would be five-star, the restaurants, the clubs, the women. John wouldn’t suddenly become Joe Everyman.

He sipped his coffee, his thoughts turning to Cassie, and before he knew it, he pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed speed dial. She was either studying or getting ready to go to work. He had no business interrupting, but he wouldn’t keep her. Maybe she’d like to know he was thinking about her...maybe he’d stop feeling like crap once he heard her voice.

All he heard was her brief voice-mail message telling him he knew what to do if he wanted his call returned. That was enough to make him smile.

* * *

CASSIE PLUNGED HER HANDS into the sudsy water filled with dirty mugs and cursed the broken dishwasher. She cursed again when she realized she’d forgotten to slip on the rubber gloves. That she now gave a rat’s ass about keeping her hands soft and smooth warranted another juicy cuss word. But she saved it for Tommy. Assuming he’d ever show up.

The Gold Strike was hopping. A bunch of new people had come in with the hospital gang because it was Beth’s birthday. And sucker that she was, Cassie had bought the ingredients to make a piña colada, which Beth had wanted earlier in the week. Now, everyone at her table had ordered one.

“I have a few spare minutes.” Lisa set her tray down, then turned to take a final sweep of the room. “Want me to wash, fill pitchers or make the piña coladas?”

“How about going over to Tommy’s and dragging him back here by his ear?” Cassie looked up only briefly. She was so damn angry, but she didn’t need to drag Lisa into it. “Actually, I’ll settle for you taking care of the pitchers or washing mugs. And thanks.”

Lisa slipped behind the bar and stuck a pitcher under the tap. While it filled, she elbowed Cassie aside. “You make the piña coladas. I can wash and watch the pitchers at the same time.” Her gaze went to the textbook half hidden by a stack of clean rags. “Oh, and after this round, I’m telling Beth we ran out of colada ingredients.”