understand if I don’t shake,” he said, smiling with his lips, but not his eyes.
O’Banyon nodded once, keeping his gaze steady as he dropped his arm. Cassandra looked back and forth between them, as if measuring the antagonism and being confused by it.
Abruptly Joy stepped in front of Alex as if she were trying to distract him. Maybe his little sister did know what was up, after all.
“Would you like me to bring you something to eat?”
“No. It’s your wedding reception. You stay with your husband.” Alex looked across the room and spoke before his brain could shut his mouth. “Cassandra will run something up. Won’t you. Baby cakes.”
Cassandra frowned. “Of course.”
Alex hobbled over to the stairs, aware that he was going to be the topic of conversation the moment he was out of earshot. Not that he gave a damn.
As he braced for the ascent, he cursed himself.
The idea was to keep that woman away from him. Why was he paving her way to his bedroom?
Because, his inner idiot pointed out, at least if she were upstairs with him, she wouldn’t be in the arms of that paleeyed, slick-suited, flashy bastard.
Alex pegged the crutches into the first step and pushed himself up.
Damn it. He should have taken the front stairs when he’d had the chance.
* * *
Cass heard the kitchen door swing shut as Joy went back to the party. She also registered the sounds of people moving around in the dining room on the other side: footsteps, talking, laughter, a bottle of wine being uncorked with a pop.
But what she listened to were the grunts and thudding as Alex dragged himself upstairs.
“So that’s Alex Moorehouse,” Sean drawled. “The Alex Moorehouse. I’ve read about him. Won the America’s Cup how many times?”
Cass tried to remember what she was doing in the kitchen. “We’re bringing in the food,” she murmured.
Sean flashed her an odd look. “Yes, we are.”
She went over to the massive Viking stove and started cracking the doors on the different ovens. There were so many covered dishes warming, she wondered where to start.
“Not exactly the friendly type, is he?” Sean said, leaning against a counter. “Even busted up like that, he was ready to ring my head like a bell.”
Sean didn’t seem offended in the slightest, though why would he be? Given the way O’Banyon lived his life, he was probably most at ease around hard-core men like himself, especially if things were getting aggressive. Wall Street just hadn’t managed to tame the South Boston street thug he’d once been.
“Was he always like that?” Sean prompted.
“He’s been through a lot.” Using a pair of folded dish towels, she drew out a roast beef that rested on a spectacular Royal Crown Derby platter. Her arms strained and she hoped she wouldn’t drop the thing. The plate was worth more than the stove.
“I’ll take that,” Sean said, relieving her of the load like it didn’t weigh more than a potholder.
Working in tandem, the two of them brought in covered dishes of wild rice and minted peas and broccoli au gratin and pearl onions. By the time everyone had drifted in from the living room, the buffet was set up. Cass let the others go through the line first. When the other guests were all sitting down and eating, she picked up a gold-rimmed plate and a damask napkin roll.
She tried to imagine what Alex would want to eat. Did he like his roast beef from the pink center or the more well- done edges? And how much rice? Would he want gravy? When she passed by the basket of freshly made rolls, she put one on the side and then thought of how thin he was. She added another and put a big slab of butter next to them.
“I’ll be right back,” she said to no one in particular.
Silence sucked the party sounds out of the room as every person at the table stopped eating and talking and just watched her go. As if she were heading into a lion’s den.
Why did he pick me? she wondered.
Unless he enjoyed torturing her.
As she walked upstairs, she was anxious even though she told herself to stop making such a big deal about it all. He was just a man. Just another human being.
She paused in front of his door.
No, he wasn’t, she thought. There was something about Alex that was different, and she’d recognized it the moment she’d first met him. He was raw and wild where other men were tame and bland.
No wonder he was drawn to the sea. It was probably the only thing on the planet big and mean enough to challenge him.
She thought about her husband. Reese had loved sailing, but he’d had a thriving business and a home life he’d enjoyed. Though he’d be gone a week at a time or sometimes even more, he’d always returned to her and been glad to be off the yacht. Alex had never stopped. She’d heard that he was on land maybe only four or five weeks a year. The rest of the time he was captaining boats, training crews, fighting the ocean and his competitors to win.
The past three months must have felt like a prison to him, she thought.
“I can’t eat if the food’s in the hall,” Alex said from inside the room.
Cass jumped. Taking a deep breath, she balanced the plate on one hand and opened the door. “How did you know I was—”
“The smell.”
She looked around the room to avoid meeting his eyes. “Where do you want this?”
“Here.” He made space on his bedside table by pushing pill bottles and an empty glass to the side.
“I—ah, I didn’t know what you liked. So I brought you a little bit of everything.” She put the plate and the napkin roll down. “Do you want me to get you some water?”
“Thanks.”
She picked up the glass and went for the bathroom. At the sink, she ran the water until it was cold under her fingertips and then filled the tumbler up. When she came back, she noticed he hadn’t touched the food.
She looked at him. His eyes were hooded as he watched her every movement.
“You should eat it while it’s hot.” She put the glass down.
“Probably.” He shifted his head, regarding her with dis-arming stillness. “So how well do you know that guy?”
“Who?”
“O’Banyon. Wasn’t that his name?”
Talk about out of left field, she thought.
“I, ah, I know him fairly well. He was Reese’s investment banker,
