exactly what was going on with Brendan and what she could do to help. ‘‘I’ll see you around, Millie. If anything happens with the Neely baby, have someone call me at home or on my cell phone. I’ll come back in.’’
‘‘Sure thing, Cassie.’’
Bent on a mission, Cassie hurried back to her office and gathered a few files she could work on at home. She picked up the phone and dialed Brendan’s number. No answer. Although she’d never been to his apartment, he’d told her that he lived not more than ten minutes away. Maybe he stopped somewhere to have a drink or dinner. She hated to think about him doing either alone.
After she pounded out his cell phone number, his voice mail kicked in. Cassie opted not to leave a message. She would go home and try again. And again and again until she reached him, even if it took all night.
He kicked the dumpster twice in an attempt to expend some of his anger. Not finding any relief, Brendan turned the anger on his car, pounding his fist into the door. The shooting pain in his knuckles did nothing to alleviate his frustration, his fury.
He braced his palms on the top of the sedan and lowered his head, relieved that no one was in the outdoor parking lot to play witness to his stupidity.
The emotions were no strangers. They came calling the same time each year. Today had been worse than before, compounded by his efforts to save an infant barely hanging on to a slender thread of life, knowing that it might be only a matter of time before the baby lost her battle.
Even though he fought against his own well-guarded memories, they came rushing back on a surge of bitter recollections, his experience as fresh in his mind as if it had happened yesterday.
Thirteen years ago he had lost his baby son.
That loss had led him to his career, driven by a powerful need to never let anyone suffer the same anguish of watching their child die, if he could help it. But he wasn’t God, and although there had been many victories, the failures still ate at his soul like potent acid.
‘‘Brendan?’’ Cassie’s cotton-soft voice floated in on the breeze from behind him.
He was suddenly caught between wanting to tell her to go away and leave him to his misery, and an overwhelming need for her to stay. He could use her strength right now but he had no right to ask. Not after last night.
Slowly he turned to face her, the setting sun burnishing her blond hair, turning it to a rich gold. She looked beautiful in that moment, and worried.
Her eyes widened as she zeroed in on his hand. ‘‘You’re bleeding!’’
He hadn’t even noticed the trickle of blood trailing down his arm. ‘‘I’m okay. It’s only a scrape.’’
Her expression was grim. ‘‘No, you’re not okay. What are you still doing here? Millie told me you’d gone home.’’
He leaned back against the car and swiped his arm against his thigh, leaving a streak of blood on his scrub pants. ‘‘I locked my damned keys in the car.’’
She walked over to him and gently clasped his hand in hers to examine his wound. ‘‘And you decided to beat the door down?’’
‘‘Something like that.’’
‘‘Leave the car here and come home with me. I can clean this up for you.’’
He yanked his hand from her grasp and immediately regretted the action when he noted the hurt in her eyes. ‘‘I’ll take care of it. I’ll call security and get them to unlock the door.’’
‘‘I don’t care about your car. I do care about you. You look like you’ve lost your best friend.’’
No, he hadn’t, at least not yet. She was standing right in front of him. ‘‘It’s been a really sorry day, Cassie.’’
‘‘I know it has,’’ she said in that quiet counselor’s voice he’d heard her use on other people, and even at times on him. ‘‘That’s why you need to come to my place. I’ll fix you some dinner and we can watch one of those trauma shows.’’
‘‘Nothing like taking your work home with you.’’
She shrugged and smiled. ‘‘We can find some cable channel and watch dirty movies. Or cartoons. Doesn’t matter to me.’’
Watching dirty movies wasn’t something Brendan cared to do with Cassie. Not with the way he was feeling—frustrated and looking for a way to vent that frustration. Sex wasn’t an option, especially not with Cassie. Not that he wouldn’t like to make love to her, long and hard and all night. He wouldn’t risk it. He’d already taken one too many chances, made one too many mistakes. Enough to last a lifetime.
But he didn’t really want to be alone, either. Cassie had a way about her, the means to make him forget. Right now he needed to forget, if only for a while. ‘‘Okay, I’ll have dinner with you. After I call security and have them unlock my car. Otherwise, you’ll have to bring me back.’’
‘‘Suit yourself.’’ She rummaged through her purse and withdrew a business card, then scrawled something on the back. After she was done, she handed it to him. ‘‘Here’s my address. It’s easy to find. Just look for the smallest house.’’
He studied the card. ‘‘You live in a house?’’
‘‘Yes, why?’’
He met her gaze once again. ‘‘I don’t know. I figured you for the swinging-single-apartment type.’’
‘‘Well, you figured wrong.’’
‘‘Do you have a roommate?’’
‘‘No, it’s just little old me.’’
That both relieved and worried Brendan. An empty house and Cassie could be a lethal combination, especially with the way he was feeling. Not if he kept his wits about him, exactly what he intended to do. What he had to do.
‘‘I’ll see you in a while then,’’ she said as she turned away. After taking a few steps, she faced him again. ‘‘Oh, I do have a cat, in case you’re allergic.’’
‘‘No, I’m not allergic. But I hate cats.’’
She grinned. ‘‘Don’t worry. He hates everyone but me.’’
Three
The cat loved Brendan. No great surprise to Cassie. Everyone loved Brendan, so why wouldn’t a crazed cat?
Still, she’d never seen Mister snuggle up to a man. Of course, the men in Cassie’s life had been very few and very far between, at least since high school. Other than a rare visit from her dad, no man had sat on her couch since that day the kitty had shown up on her doorstep, begging for handouts. And Mister definitely did not care for her father. Maybe the animal sensed that Cassie’s dad didn’t really care for Cassie. Smart cat.
Cassie stood at the kitchen entrance to the living room and watched Mister rub against Brendan as if he were a treat. She couldn’t blame him. She
