Stress and The City

The moment where she learned whether all men were like Drew, cheating on their fiancées when they thought they wouldn’t get caught.

Ty could lie to her.

His fiancée would never know.

Don’t lie, Ty!

Not that Cassie cared. It wasn’t as if she was looking for a hero or even believed they existed. And what if, by some fluke of nature, Ty actually was some moral, trustworthy guy who was loyal to his fiancée? Then he’d refuse to ravage Cassie’s body and she wouldn’t get him, anyway. And if he did offer to tear off her clothes and take her right there on the doorstep, then he’d be a cretin who cheated on his fiancée.

See how it worked? If he honored his commitment to his fiancée, then he’d be worth trusting, but then Cassie couldn’t have him.

Not that she actually cared about him. It was just a hypothetical exercise in strategic thinking.

Ty finally nodded. “Yes, I’m engaged.”

Relief and regret surged through her. He was worthy…and he was unavailable. A hero…belonging to someone else.

Or maybe he just didn’t find her remotely attractive and he would have claimed a cockroach for a fiancée if it meant he didn’t have to fend off another one of her attacks.

Not that she had self-esteem issues or anything like that.

She lifted her chin. “Well, that’s great you have a fiancée. Fiancées are great.” Yes, as long as they don’t rip your heart out of your chest and stomp all over it in a public forum. “So, I guess then I’m supposed to de-stress you to save your engagement, huh? Make you tolerable to be around?”

For eight days she’d dreamed about this man…and now she had to ready him for another woman? If she failed and his fiancée ran away screaming, then he’d be available. If she succeeded, then he’d marry another woman.

Not that any of that mattered if the cockroach theory proved to be true.

And even if it didn’t, she had a job to do.

Whoa. What was she thinking? She couldn’t take this job.

He wasn’t a client. He was a man whom she’d sexually assaulted only a week ago. And she could still taste him on her lips.

How could she ever maintain appropriate professionalism with this man, in this situation?

It was completely impossible.

She was tough, but she wasn’t impenetrable.

Not to mention she was still mortally embarrassed about attacking him.

“Cassie? Are you all right?” His brows were furrowed and he actually looked sort of cute when he wasn’t glaring at her and acting as if she was a psycho.

“I’m excellent.”

“You sure?”

Damn him. He looked so concerned that she wanted to plop down on his couch and tell him all about her miserable month. No, challenging month. “Of course I’m sure.”

He didn’t look as if he believed her, and her belly became warm with appreciation. No doubt he was the kind of man who would take care of his woman. He might even realize when she needed a hug without her having to ask.…

No. Don’t think like that.

Think of the cockroach theory. “So…we have some work to do,” she said.

“No, we don’t.”

Typical denial. “Because you aren’t stressed or because you can’t stand the sight of me after I molested you…?” Oh, super. How had that little gem found its way from her brain to her lips? She certainly hadn’t given it a map.

An endearing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m not stressed.”

And what about the second part of my question? As if she’d ask. He’d ignored it and so would she.

“And the sight of you doesn’t turn my stomach,” he added, as if he could read her mind.

“Oh. Well. That’s good.…I mean, it’s good because it would be hard for us to work together if I made you nauseous.” Brilliant. She was simply dazzling with her manipulation of the English language and her ability to turn a romantic phrase.

He grinned, no doubt amused by her ongoing effort to prove she was a complete dolt.

“The kiss has nothing to do with the fact I don’t want your help,” Ty said.

The kiss. The magical, earth-shattering, devastating kiss.

“I don’t want your help because I don’t need it. I thought I sent you another e-mail canceling the contract.”

“Stress again. You think one thing, you do another, and all the while your subconscious knows you need help. It’s typical.” She flipped open the cover to her PDA again. “You don’t mind if I take notes, do you?”

Ty grabbed the unit out of her hand. “I said I don’t need help.”

Excellent. A recalcitrant client. She was so not up for this. Recalcitrant, hot and a good kisser. Just what she needed.

Ty snapped the cover down. “For your information, I have a demanding job. That’s it. I was busy, hadn’t returned a couple calls to my fiancée and she got annoyed. So I sent the e-mail.”

Ah-hah. He’d done a weird jerky thing with his eyes when he’d mentioned his job. Something wasn’t right at the office. Cassie carved the note in her brain for recall after they’d parted ways and she could jot it down in her handheld device. Look at her: gifted with an attentive and sharp mind that honed in on stress-related signals even while she was in the throes of an emotional breakdown. Was she good or what? She’d always suspected there was a reason she hadn’t tried to knock herself out with a coconut when she was in the Bahamas.

“So what if my job requires long hours? That doesn’t mean I’m stressed,” Ty added.

As if she was that brain-dead. The man was too transparent to escape her sleuthing and suspicious mind. Before Drew, she’d been naive and trusting. Today, she was a bitter, perceptive woman…or harlot, depending on one’s point of view. Maybe having her world shattered by a cheating fiancé would make her a better stress management consultant. No longer would she be so willing to believe the good side her clients projected. A jaded realist, she would dig deeper than ever to find the true misery in her clients’ lives. “And your fiancée? No worries about what might happen when she comes to town and finds you working such long hours?”

“Nope.”

He didn’t flinch there. Definitely no concerns about what his fiancée would think about his work schedule. But something was amiss. It was apparent from the way he shifted on the doorstep and looked at his watch.…

Or maybe Cassie was making him late for a meeting.

Yikes. Why couldn’t she tell the difference between his being late and his being deceptive? What had happened to her instincts? Left on the floor of Drew’s bedroom on the night before their wedding, when she’d walked in…

Ahem.