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“Luck, not planning.”
“Will you let go—”
“I saw a man lose an eye when a rope just that size snapped on a mooring. Caught him right in the face. He thought the damn thing was strong enough, too.”
“I was standing—”
“Not far enough away.” He jerked her even closer. “Now, listen up. You're the contractor, not one of the workmen. I want you to cut it out with the hands-on stuff.”
Cass took a deep breath before she told him to shove it. “Look, Alex—”
“You're not picking up another hammer. Or a crowbar. Or so much as a nail. Do we understand each other?”
Not in the slightest, she thought. No way was she going to stand for this heavy-handed, macho steak-head power trip of his.
She rose up on her tiptoes so she could get in tighter with his eyes. It was like using a step ladder to get level with a rooftop, but at least she made it to his jawline.
Her tone was hard. “You want me on this job? Fine. Dandy. Good. Then I'm in charge here, not you. You got a problem with the way I handle things? Fire me and get someone else.”
He leaned down, his face so close to hers they were almost kissing. “Do you really want me to can you? Because I will. In a heartbeat”
They glared at each other, the air crackling.
He lifted her hand by the wrist. Twisting it around, he inspected the black-and-blue mark on the back. “How'd you get this?”
“None of your business.”
“How many others are there? And where?”
“Listen up, big man,” she said in a low voice. “Over the last week, I've stripped three bathrooms, taken up a thousand square feet of hardwood, disconnected dozens of electrical sockets and removed countless lights. If your point is that I'm a klutz or I don't know what I'm doing, you're dead wrong. The men have contusions and cuts, too. It's part of the job. A job I'm damn good at, by the way”
His eyes stared down at her, the irises so dark they were nearly black. She expected him to cut her to shreds with that sharp tongue of his and she was prepared to meet him head-on with some choice slices of her own.
Instead he stayed quiet until she was ready to jump out of her skin.
She couldn't stand it any longer.
“So are you canning me, or what?” she demanded. “Because if you aren't, you need to remember something. This is not your boat. I'm the boss here. If you can't handle that, then don't come into White Caps again until the proj?ect's finished.”
His eyes narrowed even further and she thought he was going to kick her out on her butt, she really did. He was that angry.
And then all the emotion sucked out of his face, as if he'd opened a drain somewhere. The self-control struck her as eerie and intimidating.
He dropped her arm and stepped back. “I'm sorry.”
She released the breath she'd been holding. “I don't take unnecessary risks. Truly. You don't have to worry about me ”
“You're right. Because you're not my problem. Or my responsibility.” He walked over to the door. “Thank you for reminding me”
As the plastic flap fell back into place behind him, Cass felt as if she'd been dropped at the side of the highway and abandoned. Which was nuts. She didn't appreciate his chest-thumping routine, so why should she feel let down when he cut it out?
Not my problem.
She closed her eyes.
Funny, what bothered her most was the reminder that he saw her as nothing more than an irritation. After the dinner they'd had, she'd thought she might have broken through to him just a little.
Clearly, she'd been wrong.
Alex forced himself to stay away from the house for the whole week. He figured it was a good idea to give them both a chance to cool down.
Cassandra was right, of course. It was her job, her crew, her profession. He had no right to stick his nose into her business. God knew, if someone had come onto his boat and tried to tell him what do, he'd have tossed them over?board in a heartbeat. All things considered, she'd handled the intrusion a lot better than he would have.
Especially given the number of power tools she'd had at her disposal.
The thing was, he hadn't been thinking clearly at the time. He'd gone down to the house because he'd been unable to stay away any longer and he was curious about what they were doing with the truck. He'd walked into the kitchen, caught a quick glimpse of her about five feet from that straining rope, and he'd totally lost it. What he'd wanted to do was take her into his arms, but that would have been inappropriate. So he'd yelled at her instead.
Something that was equally uncalled for.
The sound of truck engines turning over had him looking at his watch. Three o'clock. The men were leaving for the weekend.
Picking up his cane, he didn't bother with a coat as he headed for the door. He owed Cassandra a better apology than the one he'd given her and he needed to get the grov?eling over with.
As he hobbled down to the house, he pictured her rising upon tiptoe so she could meet him in the eye and keep arguing with him. Not many people fought to get closer to him whenhe was pissed off. His crew tended to duck and cover when his temper got pounding, and even Reese had backed away.
Cassandra's strength as she'd met him head-on had been a surprise. He'd always known she was lovely and smart, but had never considered her tough. Naturally, the hard edge turned him on even more. He could appreciate lovely. He could respect smart. But strong made him tingle all over.
As if his libido needed the help when it came to her.
When he got to the house, he pulled back the plastic sheet and stepped into the kitchen. Cassandra was bent over the propane heater, shutting it off.
“Hey.”
She wheeled around, putting her hand to her throat. After a quick glance at his face, her eyes refused to meet his. “You scared me”
“Sorry.”
“Have you come to check on our progress?” She picked up a clipboard, folded back a couple pages and made a note. “No”
“Then why are you here?”
“I owe you an apology.”
That got her attention. Her eyes shifted to his. “You mean for Monday? You already gave me one if memory serves” “I was way out of line. I'm sorry.”
She pulled on a parka, juggling the clipboard between her hands. “So you said. Are we done?”
He stepped in her path. “You're still angry.”
“Yes, I am. Now get out of my way.”
“Cassandra—”
“I am not a problem,” she snapped.
“What the—what are you talking about?”
"As you left on Monday you said I wasn't your problem.
Well, you're right about the first part. I'm not your anything, not your friend, not your colleague, certainly not someone you need to worry about. But I'm also not a problem. I take care of myself, I always have, ever since I was sixteen. Hell, even while I was married to Reese, with all his money, I paid my own expenses. So I am no man's problem, got it?"
Alex dragged a hand through his hair. “Ah, hell—”
She propped her clipboard on her hip and leaned against some exposed wall studs. “You know, I'm curious. What exactly do you think is so awful about me? Just be honest. I mean, after I leave this job, I'm never going to see you again, so why don't we let it all out. I'd like to know why you've always disliked me.”
Alex cursed, a low, vile word that made her laugh harshly.
“Not up to it?” she said in a brisk tone. “Funny, I always assumed you played honest. Big tough guy like yourself. Not afraid of anything.”
“Damn it, woman, will you give me a minute to collect my thoughts?”
“Oh, so there's a list.”
As he blew out his breath, she shook her head. “God—” She stepped around him. “—Goddamn you, Alex.”
He put his arm out, stopping her. “You've got it all wrong, Cassandra. About you and me”
“How so? Are you going to tell me you haven't avoided me all these years? That you haven't glowered every time you saw me on a dock waiting for the two of you to come in? You jumped ship to get away from me, remember? On that cruise through the Bahamas. Youcouldn't wait to get off that boat, and don't pretend I wasn't what drove you away”
Alex clamped down on his molars. He was an inch away from letting the whole sordid mess fly. His obsession, his love, his hunger. But it wouldn't be fair to burden her with all that. Like she needed to know he was crazed for her. And had...
Killed her husband.
He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting her to read the sins in his stare.
“At least you don't deny it,” she said softly.
He listened to her leave: the footsteps, the flapping of the plastic, the Range Rover's engine turning over. He didn't open his eyes until he was all alone.
The next morning, on Saturday, Cass headed to the site. She was going back to Manhattan for the holidays early the following day and she wanted to put in another good bunch of hours before she left.
Plus she had a lot of frustration to work off.
As she got out of the Range Rover and walked over to the house, she didn't bother looking at the shop. She wasn't going to look at it again.
Not anymore.
For too long she'd been determined to bang her head against the wall that was Alex Moorehouse. And it was hard to own up to the fact that yesterday she really had wanted him to tell her she'd read him wrong. She'd honestly hoped he'd say there was no basis for what she believed was true.
When he hadn't been able to, she'd been stupidly hurt. Again.
Enough was enough. Alex's particular brand of disap? proval triggered every need-to-please strand in her DNA. But they were going in circles and she wasn't a masochist. At least not an infinite masochist. She was giving up. Letting go.
Stamping a big WHATEVER on the situation and walking away.
She went into the house, turned the heater on, started the generator and headed upstairs. The bathrooms were es?sentially cleared out. All she wanted to do to them today was remove the molding around the windows and doors and take off the wainscoting on the walls. It was the perfect kind of small job for her. She just needed a hammer, a chisel for leverage and time.
She picked the biggest of the baths to begin with. After turning on a space heater, she took off her parka, put her bag of lunch down and started in the left-hand corner of the room. Finding a rhythm in her work was a blessing, and as it always was when she was alone at a site with nothing but boards and tools and quiet, the hours flew by. Toward the end of the day, she'd gotten so much done she thought she might as well take up some of the tile on the floor, as well.
The sun was setting when she decided to call it quits. Her shoulders were sore, her back stiff and the satisfaction of looking over the piles of boards she'd taken off wiped away all of the discomfort.
She'd done a good job. Made progress.
Downstairs, she shut off the propane heater and the gen?erator. As she lifted the plastic to leave, the cold rushed in and reminded her that she'd left her parka up where she'd been working. She ran back to the bathroom and grabbed the jacket. Just as she was leaving, the scorched particle?board under her feet let out a shriek. She looked down at a section where she'd removed some tile.
It happened so fast. One moment she was fine, the next, her foot broke through the board and she was through the floor up to her thigh.
While she caught her breath, she waited for the pain to tell her what, if anything, had been broken. The dull thudding in her upper leg suggested she was going to be bruised, but she was able to move her foot, and there was no awful feeling of wetness as blood welled.
Thank God for her long underwear and her jeans. The two together had saved her from getting torn up.
