Kathleen O'Reilly - The Longest Night

“I never joke about sex,” Cassandra declared

Noah didn’t think he joked about sex either, but this took that to a whole other level. “Look, I don’t mind about the condoms and the physical. That’s good thinking, but the rest? It sounds like some sort of business arrangement.”

“It is. Sort of. Sex is definitely business—don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I’ve never believed in masking it with all that lovey-dovey kitsch.”

Noah had never thought of himself as a believer in romantic ideals, but now he felt sort of…insulted. “That lovey-dovey kitsch is the best part of a relationship.” Then he realized what he’d said. “Okay, the sex is good, too.” He noticed she raised her brow at that. “But you can’t just rip out all the other stuff.”

“Yes, I can.”

Noah sighed. “You never compromise? You never make a promise, or ever stay faithful? What about the other rules?”

She shook her head and the dark hair brushed against her full breasts. What she was proposing was a one-night stand. A cheap roll in the hay. Wham, bam, thank you Noah.

Could he do it? How could he not?

Dear Reader,

Well, this is it. The last book in THE BACHELORETTE PACT miniseries. Cassandra’s story. This one required a lot of thinking until I could get everything suited for who she really is. I knew the image that she reflected to the world, but the vulnerabilities, the darker parts that lurked inside her took a while to bring to the surface. Meanwhile the hero, Noah, just showed up right from Day One. He’s the attentive man who’s so smart that he sees through Cass’s bravado from the start. Gotta love a man who’s that bright. And this is their story.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the miniseries. Please write to me and let me know your thoughts at kathleenoreilly@earthlink.net or Kathleen O’Reilly, P.O. Box 312, Nyack, NY 10960.

All the best!

Kathleen O’Reilly

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

889—JUST KISS ME

927—ONCE UPON A MATTRESS

*967—PILLOW TALK

*971—IT SHOULD HAPPEN TO YOU

*975—BREAKFAST AT BETHANY’S

HARLEQUIN DUETS

66—A CHRISTMAS CAROL

The Longest Night

Kathleen O’Reilly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For my editor, Kathryn Lye.

I couldn’t have done this without you.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

CASSANDRA WARD studied the subject in the chair, considering the shadows, the facets, and yes, even the flaws. But there was a beauty hidden inside, a beauty waiting to emerge, and now it was up to her, the artist at work, to expose it.

She took a step back, tracing slow circles at her temple while she considered the exact way to begin.

Carefully she adjusted the lights and watched the way the shadows fell. Thinking, analyzing, planning.

Finally it was time. As she smiled at Beth in the mirror, she cracked her knuckles. “You’re going to look fabulous.”

Beth frowned, obliviously not comprehending the talent that was at Cassandra’s disposal. “I don’t want to look like a tramp. I’m getting married today, not heading out for drinks.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, exquisitely made up in shades of silken taupe and almondine. “Does my makeup ever look trampish?”

Beth met her eyes in the mirror; she actually appeared to be thinking about it. “No,” she answered at last.

They were alone in the church dressing room, two hours to the ceremony, and Cassandra was ensuring that one of her best friends was going to look beautiful.

She settled in to work. “Tell me why no one ever believes me.”

First she dug into her makeup case and pulled out her secret weapon. Seaweed mask. “You’re going to turn green, but don’t worry. It’ll exfoliate the skin and cleanse the pores, or exfoliate the pores and cleanse the skin. Not quite sure, but exfoliation and cleansing are definitely involved. You’ll love it.”

“After all that exfoliating and cleansing, I will return back to a normal skin color, right? What if I get some icky rash or something?”

“Trust me.”

Beth sighed. “All right. Do your worst.”

Cassandra spread the goo over Beth’s face, covering the crucial areas in the T-zone. Then, while the mask was settling, she brought out her bag of cucumber slices and placed them on Beth’s eyes. “This is to get rid of wrinkles. I buy cucumbers by the dozen.”

Behind the cucumbers and seaweed, Beth laughed. “And here we thought it was for something else.”

“Honey, there’s no need for vegetables when able-bodied men are as close as the nearest speed dial.”

While Beth was sitting in the chair, cucumbers on the eyes, face turning a healthy shade of green, Cassandra took out the extra two slices of cucumber and sat in the chair next to Beth. Just this morning she had noticed two new lines at the corner of her eyes. She didn’t know if early onset of crow’s feet ran in her family, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

From the chapel area she could hear the pianist and the soloist practicing, some beautiful aria sung in a foreign language. Beth was going all-out for this wedding. Chicago would never see anything like this one again.

However, now the bride-to-be sat in the chair, quiet. Too quiet.

“Getting nervous?” Cassandra asked.

“Mmm, hmm.”

“You shouldn’t be. You’re going to have the life you’ve dreamed up.”

Beth worked her lips free of the mask. “No flowers or vacation on isolated beach.”

Sometimes Beth didn’t realize what she had. “He would if you asked him to.”

“No fun.”

“Wandering into the land of second thoughts?”

A smile cracked in the mask. “None.”

“That’s my girl.”

There had been four bachelorettes at one time—four college friends, approaching thirty. They were single, they were happy, so they’d sworn to stay single forever. The Bachelorette Pact.

Cassandra frowned, which made for more wrinkles. She didn’t frown often, but nobody was watching right now. Two bachelorettes were married, one was hours away from walking down the aisle.

And then there was one.

Cassandra “Eternally Single” Ward.

Not that she was complaining. Much. Jessica had married Adam, who was as big a competitor as she was, not that there was anything wrong with that. Mickey had married Dominic, an undercover cop who mingled with the dregs of Chicago society, and who needed that? Now Beth was marrying Spencer, a prize-winning journalist who, despite his love for Beth, still needed to learn some manners.

Her friends could have them all, because as far as Cassandra was concerned, the perfect man was nothing but a figment.

In the business of gems you had to spot the imperfections and cleave and saw and polish until all the flaws were gone. It was great for diamonds, but hell on men.

“You get married?” Beth said, struggling to talk through the quick-drying mask.