All the Right Moves(63)
John didn’t care. He needed a change of scenery, a different outlook. Hell, maybe these were his last few days of hanging with other pilots. Men he’d flown with. Men he’d take a bullet for. Men who would take one for him.
Oh, yeah. He needed to lighten up.
* * *
THIS WAS WHY she didn’t date customers. Virtually every person she knew at the bar had asked her where John was. Was he coming in later? Were things okay between them? Did she know if Tommy was gonna be there, too?
Cassie wanted to strangle all of them. Individually or in groups, it didn’t matter. Just so long as they shut up about John.
What annoyed her even more was that every time the door opened, her heart leaped. She’d tried to not look, to wait. He’d still be there if she didn’t look that first second. But it was no good. She felt like Pavlov’s dog, salivating at the bell. Salivating was probably not too far off the mark.
“Tommy said he can’t be here until around midnight. He’s got a meeting or something.” Lisa shook her head as she filled a pitcher from the tap. The place wasn’t jammed like the night before, and most of the people there were familiar, if not regulars.
“A meeting. Right.”
“I know. But he had a bad night.”
“Did he?” Cassie said, washing her millionth glass. “Poor baby.”
Lisa gave her a look that was understanding, but also a bit hopeful. “He knows he let you down. He’s not feeling too good about himself.”
“I’m sure that crackpot lawyer of his will make everything better. Damn it, Lisa, there’s help available anytime he wants it.”
With a sigh, Lisa put the filled pitcher on the bar, and started another. “Speaking of which, I’m right here. And I know how to listen.”
“You need me to explain why I’m annoyed with Tommy?”
“That’s not what’s bothering you. Okay, so it’s partly what’s bothering you, but I’ve seen how you look every time someone opens the door. I won’t push, but you have a friendly ear real close by. I’m just saying.”
“Everything’s fine.” Cassie dried her hands, stared at her pruney fingers. “He can’t come tonight. He had other plans. That’s all. But you know this thing between us, it isn’t anything.” She shrugged. “I’m just the vacation hookup.”
“Oh, you’re not going to let that sit there without a fight.”
“I’m being serious. We’re not an item. For all I know, it’s over right now. If not tonight, then it will be in a few days. I knew that from the get-go.”
“He worked the bar, Cassie. He called out your brother. In front of a room full of Tommy’s friends. That is not a vacation hookup.”
She started drying glasses, holding on to words she’d regret. “Let it go, okay?”
“But—”
“Please?”
Lisa nodded, the look of concern one Cassie had seen many times, but never about her. Dropping her towel, she went into the storage room and closed the door, careful not to slam it.
Her face twisted into an ugly cry, but she bit her lower lip to stop it. Kicking a bag of rags helped. A little.
She still wasn’t sorry she’d spoken her mind.
Oh, who was she kidding? If she could, she’d go back in time and keep her big mouth shut. She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but she cared way too much about John Devlin. The thought of truly never seeing him again made her ache. She’d been so busy flying through her days she hadn’t realized he’d become the best part.
Some psychologist she would be, when she couldn’t even tell she was falling in love until it was too late.
* * *
ON THE FIFTY-FIFTH FLOOR of the Palms hotel, John sipped his twelve-year-old scotch and thought about how he was definitely not in the Gold Strike. He had a panoramic view of the Strip, the outdoor sky deck had glass panels on the floor that were dizzying if one had too much to drink, and the clientele was the cream of the high-living crop.
The guys, all four of them, had been pulling out all the stops for the gorgeous ladies in their finery. Right now, a stunning blonde and a petite brunette were kissing each other, egged on by Rick and most of the men within seeing distance. All John could picture was Cassie. She would have rolled her eyes at the over-the-top displays, the strutting of the peacocks, the alcohol-fueled laughter.
He’d wanted a distraction, but everything reminded him of her. He supposed fifty-five floors wasn’t high enough, the Palms wasn’t far enough. Which was why he was considering Rick’s offer.