All the Right Moves(56)

“From the tone of your voice, I’m guessing you did well on the test. Am I right?”

He pulled up in front of her, blatantly ignoring that it was a red zone. She hurried around to the door and slid inside before they got a ticket. “You are,” she said, and heard her voice echo. She hung up. “You are,” she repeated. “I did well, but even more important, I don’t have to study again. At least for a while. I’m a woman of leisure. Except for working seven days a week, and finally giving my house the cleaning I’ve been putting off for months, and then painting my front door, because it looks like hell.”

“Other than that, huh?” he said, pulling into traffic. He was grinning, but then so was she.

“We don’t have to do deli if you want something else.”

“I don’t care about the food. I just want dessert.” His hand went to her thigh and snuck under the hem of the sundress she’d worn. “It wasn’t easy sleeping next to you last night.”

“I appreciate the tremendous sacrifice you made,” she said. “Seriously, I called the papers. They’re running a tribute on page two.”

“Page two?”

She shrugged. “Idiots.”

“Deli is fine. We can eat half a sandwich right away, and then the other half after.”

Cassie laughed, but slapped at his hand. “You’re taking a lot for granted there, flyboy. Besides, how come we always end up going to my place?”

“It’s nicer.”

“Why do I doubt that? Don’t tell me you’re hiding a wife and kids in some big old house in Summerlin.”

The look he gave her was so outrageous she had to laugh, although when he didn’t outright deny it, her stomach got a little funny. Which was ridiculous. “No, really. Why don’t we go to your place?”

“Okay,” he said. “You’ll see, though. Now, where is that deli again?”

* * *

THEY GOT TO HIS PLACE an hour later. When he opened the door, she was immediately caught by the view. It was spectacular. Or would be at night with the whole of the Strip glittering like a diamond runway. Then the white walls hit her. The nothing. No pictures, no plants, no books, no mementos from his travels. He put his keys in his pocket.

“See? Not very homey.”

“You didn’t strike me as being a neat freak.”

“I have someone come in to clean.”

“To clean what? Do you have a closet filled to the brim somewhere in the back?”

“Nope. But I do have an ice machine, and a table. We can have that half a sandwich now.”

“Good. I’m famished.” She put the bag from the restaurant on the table and started unpacking. There wasn’t much. A couple of Dr. Brown’s sodas, two huge sandwiches and a few dill pickles.

John filled glasses with ice and came to sit across from her. “It’s not that I’m neat,” he said. “I’m just never here. When I’m not on leave, I work twelve- to fourteen-hour days. That’s not even counting when I’m deployed. I can be gone six months at a time.”

“But you have a housekeeper,” she said, carefully spreading her packet of mustard on her rye. “Although I’m not sure what she’d have to do besides dust. I mean, you don’t even have mail on the counter. That’s unnatural.”

He shrugged as he took an enormous bite. She, on the other hand, had to put half the meat from her sandwich on the wax paper it had come in. After a minute, he said, “I don’t have mail because most of it goes to my sister. She pays the bills from a joint account I set up. It’s easier when I’m out of the country.”

Cassie shook her head. “I swear. What is it about brothers who refuse to grow up?” Then she took her own bite and moaned at the still-warm pastrami. When she looked at John, expecting to find him devouring more of his food, she found him frowning at her instead. She waved her hand at him until she could tell him, “I was kidding. Sheesh.”

“I know,” he said, without an ounce of conviction. “The way you work and go to school, I don’t see how you can have so many things. I mean, I get art, I’m not a complete cretin, but the plants. The goldfish. Those take work, and you’ve got dozens.”

“Only two goldfish. In one bowl.”

He rolled his eyes, moving in on a pickle.

“I like having living things around me,” she said. “I breathe deeper, walking into a room full of plants. And I love being able to look at pictures or souvenirs that remind me of wonderful memories. I think, if anyone ever cared to, they could put together a very accurate portrait of my life from all the clues I’ve left. That means a lot to me.”