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“Yes.”
“Then I’m truly sorry for you.”
He threw his scotch back in one sip. Cassie watched as his Adams apple knotted. “Shit happens. Whatcha gonna do?”
“I’d say you could fight for her, but I don’t think that’s the right approach.”
“You don’t think love’s worth fighting for?”
“Love, perhaps. Love being made difficult by external forces. Not love that’s no longer there.”
“You have a way with words,” he grinned. “In that you really don’t pull any punches.”
“I’m sorry,” and she was. “I guess I’m not the kind of girl who believes in undying romances. I think it’s plausible that what you and your fiancé shared just … went away. For her at least. Maybe she’s got different ideas of love. Different ideas of permanence.”
“Apparently you’re right.”
>
“Is there someone else in the picture?”
“No. Not that I know of.” His lips tugged into a frown. “Thanks for that. It hadn’t even occurred to me to wonder if she was having an affair.”
“Wow, you really do love her,” Cassie murmured, wondering what that kind of slaving devotion must be like. Not, perhaps to be the one doing the loving, but to be loved and trusted so implicitly. She shook her head. It would be a recipe for disaster. For anyone.
One look at this man’s lovelorn face convinced her of that.
“You’re better rid of her anyway.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“I don’t need to.” She tapped his glass and nodded at Renee. The French man topped it up and took Cassie’s payment.
“Thanks. I guess the cat can wait one more Scotch.”
“Your friends are looking over. I think they’re convinced.”
But Colin’s friends, increasingly inebriated and loud, were not the only eyes surreptitiously studying the two fair heads bent close together in conversation. At the other end of the bar, far from Cassie’s gaze, a pair of jet black eyes were fixed to her with a possessive heat.
He’d told himself he’d forget about her.
All the more so if she went home with someone else.
But now that he’d seen her again, he knew forgetting about her wasn’t going to be possible.
She wasn’t out of his system yet. She would be. But not yet.
She laughed at something the man said, and her hand – the beautiful hand that had wrapped itself around his length – pressed to his chest.
Layth’s eyes narrowed. He was waiting. Watching. And wondering just how long it would be before he could claim her again.
Cassie stood, her dress sculpting her body like a second skin. It was short, and showed off the expanse of tanned, slender legs. It was also cut low at the back, revealing that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Layth groaned as he remembered the weight and roundness of her breasts. He had waited long enough.
He cut through the bar easily, his eyes never wavering from his goal.
Cassie still hadn’t seen him. She was rifling through her bag, searching for something. He slowed his pace, curiosity giving him a little extra patience. He watched as she lifted the phone, read the number and then frowned. Her finger came down on the button decisively, cutting the caller off. She returned the phone to the glittering clutch and then looked up. Right into his eyes.
