on fast.
‘‘Let me go, Brendan O’Connor.’’ She sounded winded, but not all that threatening.
‘‘Not until you apologize for taking advantage of my exhaustion, and my vulnerable buttocks.’’
She jutted out her chin in determination. ‘‘Bully.’’
He tightened his hold on her and grinned. ‘‘I’m the bully?’’
‘‘I mean it. Let me go.’’ Amusement flickered in her dark eyes as she wriggled against him.
He wished she would stop squirming. Parts of his body were finding it difficult to ignore her. Difficult to disregard her breasts pressed against his, her bare thighs touching his. All he had to do was release her, but for some reason he couldn’t. Or maybe he didn’t want to. ‘‘What are you going to do now?’’
She stared for a moment, then a devious grin appeared. ‘‘You really want to know?’’
‘‘Yeah.’’
‘‘Okay. You asked for it.’’
Working her arms from his grasp, she framed his jaws between her palms and kissed him square on the mouth.
Shocked, Brendan dropped his arms from around her.
She stepped back and smiled. ‘‘Works every time.’’
Brendan didn’t move, didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His feet were fettered to the grass by some immovable force created by Cassie’s lips. As far as kisses went, he’d rank it as harmless. But what it had done to him would qualify as anything but harmless.
Cassie pivoted on her tennis shoes and swayed toward the glass door. Brendan found his footing and followed.
She stopped with fingers poised on the handle and faced him. ‘‘I’m hitting the showers. Meet me in twenty minutes out front. You can buy me a beer.’’
Brendan needed to go home, get some shut-eye—5:00 a.m. would come all too soon. But considering Cassie’s impromptu kiss, he doubted he would immediately fall asleep. Might as well accept her offer. ‘‘Okay, you’re on. But hurry.’’
‘‘You hurry.’’ With that she was gone.
He headed into the locker room and stood in the shower longer than usual, all the while trying to stop thinking about Cassie’s kiss. All the while trying to figure out why something so innocent had him contemplating some not-so-innocent ideas.
After leaving the shower, he paused from drying off to tap his forehead against the cold locker door, attempting to dislodge the thoughts from his brain. It didn’t work. He couldn’t get the image of Cassie’s kiss out of his head. Why had she done it? If she’d really wanted him to let her go, she could’ve punched him. Actually, he’d reacted as if she had. Maybe she’d intended to shake him up. If that had been her goal, she had definitely succeeded.
But he liked Cassie a lot. Liked the fact she was a great listener, a compassionate friend. He didn’t intend to mess up a good thing by doing something stupid like kissing her back. Really kissing her.
He didn’t need any complications right now. His job was complicated enough. So was his life.
Brendan dressed in jeans and T-shirt then set out to find Cassie. He came upon her at the front doors impatiently tapping her foot. ‘‘You’re five minutes late,’’ she said.
‘‘The showers were crowded.’’ A blatant lie. Only one other guy was in the shower, and he’d finished long before Brendan had. Cassie’s spontaneous kiss had kept Brendan under the spray longer than planned, but he didn’t intend to make that admission. Best to just ignore it, if he could. Maybe a beer would help. Maybe a sudden bout of blindness might, too.
They walked to the small lounge down the street and took their favorite table in the corner. The place was practically deserted with only a couple of businessmen seated at the bar, nursing their drinks and talking about their latest ventures.
Brendan ordered him and Cassie a beer, a routine that had become as welcome and familiar as her smile. He liked import; she favored domestic. He usually drank two; she rarely finished one. He smiled to himself when he considered how he had memorized her habits—the way she always swept her hair back with one hand, her high-energy aura, the fact that she always toyed with whatever was in reach, be it a straw or paperclip. Tonight was no exception. Right then she was steadily shredding a cocktail napkin.
Brendan began the conversation with a belated apology. ‘‘I’m sorry I came down so hard on the Kinseys.’’
Cassie stopped her shredding and laid a palm on his hand where it rested on the table. ‘‘It’s okay, Brendan. Really.’’
‘‘No, it’s not okay. I don’t have any right to judge anyone.’’ His statement held more truth than Cassie would ever know.
Pulling his hand from beneath hers, he picked up his beer to thumb away a drop of condensation on the mug, wishing he could as easily discard his unexpected reaction to Cassie’s touch. Being so close to her had never bothered him before. But it bothered him now in a very elemental way.
He’d never required more from her than easy conversation. He sure as hell hadn’t needed to touch her, although many times he had wanted to. Right now it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself, resist the urge to trace the contours of her mouth with a fingertip, with his own mouth.
He tried to shake off the sudden urges, but they wouldn’t go away.
She took up the paper-mincing where she’d left off. ‘‘You’re frustrated and concerned about the pitfalls of teen pregnancy, Brendan. No one can fault you for that.’’
No, Cassie wouldn’t fault him now. But if she ever found out that his reaction to the young parents had to do with his own lack of judgment years ago, she might change her mind. ‘‘At least they’re trying, I guess.’’ More than he had ever done.
Cassie sipped at her near full beer and regarded him with concern. ‘‘True. They both seem committed to raising their babies. Heaven knows that’s not always the case.’’
Brendan imagined she had seen it all as a social worker. The good and the ugly. He admired her conviction, her strength. If only he had been so strong, then and now. For a moment he thought about confessing his sins to Cassie but reconsidered. She didn’t need to know about his lousy past mistakes. That could very well lower her opinion of him, and ruin the best friendship he’d ever had.
He glanced at the clock flashing an ad for premium scotch—11:00 p.m. Later than he’d realized. He definitely needed to head home. As bad as he hated to leave Cassie’s company, he had a responsibility to his patients to be at his best come morning. ‘‘Are you done?’’
Cassie seemed to have zoned out, carried off into some realm of consciousness that didn’t include him. Totally out of character for her. Normally she was always attentive. Maybe something was disturbing her, too.
He waved his hands in front of her eyes. ‘‘You in there?’’
Startled, she brought her attention back to him. ‘‘Sorry. Just daydreaming,
