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“She's been through a lot. Be...careful with her, okay?” “Yeah, of course.” Mad rolled over onto her back. “Funny, though.”
“What?”
“When I asked if she was a friend of yours, she said she wasn't.”
Alex cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose she isn't.” No, they were not friends and they never would be. They were not really lovers, either.
Cass's voice shot through his head, her words spoken during one of the arguments they'd had....after I leave this job, I'm never going to see you again...
Alex frowned as it dawned on him that the renovations on White Caps would be done in a month or two. Then she would go back to New York. And he would go back to the sea.
There would be no reason for their paths to cross again. Ever.
“You okay, Captain?” Mad said abruptly.
“What?”
“I heard a groan.”
“Yeah, I'm fine, Mad. Go to sleep. Spike's showing up first thing for some serious ironmania.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Alex turned onto his back.
Death wasn't the only black hole someone could fall into, he thought. Divergent lives could do a damn good erase job, too.
A person could be perfectly healthy and above ground, and you could still lose them forever.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning Alex stared out the picture window at White Caps and tried to imagine where Cassandra might be in the house.
X-ray powers would be really handy right about now, he thought.
Behind him, in the bathroom, Mad Dog was getting dressed to exercise and she was humming. Off-key. A truly horrible rendition of the theme from Stars Wars. There was a pounding on the shop's door.
“Rock and roll,” Alex said over his shoulder.
“You ready to work?” Spike called out as he walked in. Alex nodded and took off his sweatshirt. “Yeah.” “Hey, that Viper is sweet. Whose is it?”
The bathroom door opened and Mad stepped out in a black sports bra and a pair of black panties.
“It's mine. Hi, I'm Madeline. You can call me Mad.”
Alex had to swallow to keep from laughing. Spike looked like someone who'd been hit in the back of the head with a mast. The expression of awe and disbelief sank even deeper into his face as Mad sauntered right up to him, stuck her hand out and smiled.
As she stood in front of his buddy, Alex considered his navigator as a woman. Which was exactly what Spike was doing.
Yeah, Mad did have the whole Amazon-goddess thing working for her. She was tanned and muscled, but you definitely knew she was a female. And not just because her black hair was almost down to the small of her back.
He glanced at Spike. The guy was extending his hand slowly, like Mad was either an apparition or something that might take his arm off.
“Your hair is great,” she said, taking his palm and giving it a good shake. “And I seriously dig the tat on your neck. How many do you have?”
Spike blinked. “A couple.”
“Can I see them?”
Those yellow eyes actually popped. “Ah, not all of them, no.”
“How about only the decent ones? I've never had the courage to get inked, but I love to look at them.” There was a pause.
“You mean now?” Spike asked.
Mad nodded and focused on his chest. Like she was looking forward to getting a load of it.
Spike glanced across the room at Alex and flared his eyelids a little, flashing the international masculine symbol for: Save my ass, buddy. Right now.
Alex nodded gravely and said, “Yeah, let's see 'ern, Spike. Even the naughty ones.”
Those yellow eyes spit such fire that Alex figured he had to relent. Either that or he was never getting a ride anywhere ever again.
“Okay, Mad, we better lay off.”
Mad shrugged and headed for the weights. “Pity. So who's first with the iron?”
“Aren't you going to get dressed?” Spike muttered, pointedly looking anywhere else but her backside.
Mad cocked an eyebrow and looked down at herself. “I am dressed. I mean, I didn't bring my workout gear and this is just like a bikini.”
Alex frowned, finding it hard to imagine she was missing the effect she had on Spike. The guy was actually sheepish, he was so blown away by her.
Who knew the guy even had sheepish in him?
Alex thought about her on those boats with all his men. She treated them the same way. Up front, on the level, with never a hint of anything sexual. Of course, that was a professional environment.
Had she ever been with anyone? Not that he knew of. And sailing was a very closed club with a gossip mill like a sorority house.
“Mad, toss on some shorts, will you? Before you burn Spike's retinas.”
“Shorts? Who brings shorts to the Adirondacks in January? I almost took a dogsled to get here. And before you suggest it, I'm not lifting in my jeans.”
Alex went over to his duffel bags and tossed her a pair of his boxers. “Try these.”
Mad caught them, tugged the things on her smooth legs and the three of them hit the weights. They'd been at it for about twenty minutes when there was a knock on the shop's door.
“It's open,” Alex called out while he spotted Mad on some bench presses.
Cassandra walked in and froze, as if she'd stepped into the wrong place. Then she looked away wildly, eyes bouncing around.
Mad released the bar and sat up.
“Hi, Cassandra—” Alex didn't get further than that.
Cassandra's words trampled over his, coming out of her mouth in a rush. “Joy's been trying to reach you. Your phone's bouncing to voice mail.”
“I turned it off.”
Man, she totally refused to meet his eyes.
“Well, Joy would like you to come over for dinner tonight. She and Gray will be arriving in a couple of hours, and Frankie and Nate are due later this afternoon. I'm sure your...guest is welcome. And, Spike, you're invited as well. Six o'clock.” She headed for the door. “You might want to call your sister. Anyway, that's all. Will you excuse me?”
“Cassandra, wait—”
She left so quickly, he didn't have time to finish.
“I'll be right back,” he muttered as he grabbed his cane. Outside, the cold air bit into the bare skin of his chest. “Cassandra!”
Usually that tone of voice could stop a sailboat in a stiff breeze, but she just kept going.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered, focusing on the ground so he didn't fall on his face.
He caught up with her just as she pulled back the plasticflap over White Caps' kitchen doorway. She halted only because he grabbed her hand.
“Will you stop already! What the hell is the problem?” Cassandra glanced over her shoulder at him. "There is no problem. Whatsoever."
She looked terrible, he realized. Dark circles under her eyes. Hollows under her cheekbones that he hadn't seen before. She was pale as salt, too.
“Cassandra,” he. said gently, "are you all right? You look sick."
“I'm fine. Please let me go.”
Her listless voice lit off the back of his neck, and his nape tingled so badly he had to use his free hand to rub it. “Cassandra, what's going on?”
Flat green eyes shifted away. "Please...let... Oh, God—"
She clapped her hand across her mouth, doubled over and gagged.
“Cassandra!” What the hell was she doing coming to work if she was sick? "For God's sake, let me take you back to Gray's."
She shook her head sharply, her ponytail flopping over
one of her shoulders.
“Just leave me alone.” Before he could say anything more, she cut him off. "If you don't get out of the way, I will throw up on your shoes. You are, quite literally, making me sick. Leave. Now."
Alex recoiled and dropped his hand from hers.
With a hoarse cough, she stumbled over to the Porta Potti.
Dizzy, still nauseated, Cass stepped out into the fresh air and breathed deeply. It didn't help. The sickly-sweet smell of the john clung to the insides of her nostrils like a coat of paint, spurring on her stomach's rebellion.
She went inside the house, turned on the propane heater and sat down on a board suspended between two saw?horses. She found that if she was motionless, the queasi?ness faded. Which was a good thing. The crew was due to arrive in about a half hour.
“Cass, baby?”
She winced and glanced over as Spike came through the plastic flap. He was smiling, but his eyes were razor sharp. Great, she thought. Alex had sent reinforcements. “Guess what?” the man said.
She took a deep breath. “What?”
“This is your lucky day.”
“You can't be serious.”
“I am. You're going to let me take you back to Gray's?' ”And that makes me lucky, how?"
“Because if you come with me, Alex won't call an ambulance. I have five minutes to walk out of this house with you. Then he's dialing.”
“Spike, no offense, but you've lied to me before.” “Maybe. But I'm not lying now.”
She met his yellow eyes for a long moment.
“Come on, honey,” he said softly. "Let me take you home?'
Feeling like a fool, but not willing to run the risk of throwing up in front of her crew, she reached into her backpack and took out her cell phone. She dialed and when Ted answered, she asked him to ride hard on the plumbers. When she hung up, she didn't look at Spike, but got to her feet.
“Let's go,” she muttered.
Cass slept most of the day. She couldn't stomach any?thing more adventurous than some of Libby's chicken broth for lunch, but by the time five o'clock rolled around, she was able to force herself out of bed. A shower perked her up a little and she slipped into a black sheath of heavy silk. She put on some makeup and did her hair. Threw on a pair of earrings.
She felt like she had to gird herself for the party.
By the time she walked into the living room, everyone else was there. Nate and Frankie were by the fire, their dark heads together. Joy was pouring some Perrier for Spike and laughing. Gray and Alex were talking.
Where was
“That is a fabulous dress,” Madeline said.
“Thank you.”
The other woman was dressed in black slacks and a black turtleneck and she looked drop-dead gorgeous. Worse, her smile was open, engaging, as if she was hoping to talk. To be friends.
Cass searched her mind for something to say. “So it's very cold, don't you think?”
The weather. How original.
Madeline nodded. “And, man, the snow is everywhere. I've forgotten how much they get up here. I was crazy to take the Viper, but I love that car. With so much of my time being spent on the ocean, 1 don't get to drive it enough.”
Gray and Alex came over. Cass faded to the edges of the group, looking around the room until she'd memorized where every piece of furniture was. She felt Alex watching her, but couldn't meet his eyes. She just didn't want to deal with all the emotions she was feeling, and if that made her a coward, fine. Paint her yellow.
Abruptly he went over to Spike and said something to him. Spike left and came back with two large, thin presents that were wrapped with what looked like mathematical precision.
Alex raised his voice. “Since we're all here, I have something I want to give Frankie and Joy. Spike, prop them up on the couch, okay?”
When the two gifts were against the sofa cushions, Alex checked the back of one and motioned his sisters forward. “Frankie you're on the left. Joy, the right.”
He stepped to the side.
“What is it?” Frankie asked, staring at hers.
“See, that's the thing with presents. You have to open them”
“Who goes first?”
