Stephanie Rowe - Stress and The City

It must be her single status. She was subconsciously sending out mating vibes that only the sexiest and most worthy men would respond to. Cassie pheromones combined with her gorgeous tan were obviously a powerful combination. See? She didn’t need to be married. This dating thing would be a breeze.

“We’re going to go dance. See you in a little bit,” Leo said, slipping her arm through the elbow of the other man.

“What?” Cassie squawked. Nice, Cassie. Sound a little more panicked about being left alone with the sexiest man she’d noticed in years. Decades even.

So much for the facade of being suave, sophisticated and mentally sound.

Leo was already gone, whirling into the crowd with her latest conquest in tow.

Cassie cleared her throat and tried to think of what a single woman was supposed to say to a devastatingly handsome man at a New Year’s Eve celebration. For the last four years, while she’d been happily taken, she could rattle off brilliantly engaging conversation with anyone. But now that she was single, it was as if her brain had abandoned her to go play Ping Pong and her tongue had gone off to watch the match.

“I’m Ty.” Obviously not suffering from the same affliction as she was, Ty held out his hand and sounded as if he were in complete control of all his faculties.

“Hi.” She shook his hand, startled by the firmness of his grasp. Like a steel vise under the flesh, a clamp that could bind her and trap her in all sorts of wonderfully interesting ways.…

“And your name is?” Ty prompted.

“Oh. Right. It’s…” Why had she let Leo take the fudge with her? “My name…it’s…Cassie.” Phew. The tough part out of the way.

Ty nodded.

She smiled.

The music blared.

Wow, was she a dazzling conversationalist or what? Scintillating. It was astonishing she’d had only the one marriage proposal.

“So, um…”

He took his eyes off the dance floor. “Yes?”

“I…” Where was her brain? “Nice suit.”

“Came straight from work.”

“Work? But it’s…” She glanced at the watch that hid the evidence of her marvelously bronzed skin. Maybe she should switch it to her other wrist. “It’s almost eleven o’clock on a New Year’s Eve. What do you do?”

“Financial consultant.”

“Oh.” Think of an interesting response. “I had a piggy bank when I was a kid.”

He cocked an amused eyebrow. “Was it pink?”

“Yes. I named her Willemina and…” Cassie stopped.

“Oh, wait. You were making fun of me.”

“Not at all. I had a piggy bank of the Pillsbury Doughboy. He’s my inspiration.” But Ty was grinning now, his eyes twinkling.

Cassie grimaced. “Okay, so it wasn’t the smoothest pickup line.”

“You were trying to pick me up?” He shot her a wary glance.

“Pick you up…” Why hadn’t she left her tongue at home tonight? First thing Monday morning, she was having it surgically removed. “No, I meant…um, it was…casual conversation…”

Ty grunted and she felt his eyes on her again. “Where’d you get the tan?”

Cassie couldn’t stop the swell of warmth that surged through her veins. He’d noticed her sun-kissed skin. Even Leo hadn’t noticed. Grab this man and run.

Ack! Shut up, hormones. She wasn’t interested in a man. She was single and damn happy about it. “I just got back from the Bahamas. My honeymoon.”

Her honeymoon? Portraying herself as married to an incredibly handsome man who was perceptive enough to notice her tan? Just plain stupid. Definite choke under pressure. Or it would be if she’d been trying to impress him. Which she wasn’t.

Ty’s gaze flicked to her left hand, one eyebrow quirking when he spotted her bare finger.

Self-consciously, Cassie slid her hand out of view. “Um. It wasn’t actually my honeymoon. I mean, it was supposed to be my honeymoon. I went alone.”

Both of his luxuriously dark eyebrows were raised now and he wasn’t looking at her tan anymore. He was staring into her eyes, as if he really wanted to know what secrets she was hiding.

Or she was hallucinating from too much chocolate.

“How’d you end up going on your honeymoon alone? Sounds like an interesting story.”

“You must be new in town.”

He blinked, probably startled by the change in subject. “Actually, I’ve lived here for six months,” he said. “Why?”

“Are you a hermit? It’s pretty much the only way you could have lived here and not heard about my amazing wedding or lack thereof.”

“That juicy, huh?”

“In comparison to the number of other interesting things that happen in this town during December, yes.” She lifted her brow. “So? Hermit?”

He glanced at her. “I work.”

“You mean, you never get out of the house to socialize so you have no idea what goes on in this town and you have no friends?” Amazing! One person in town with whom her reputation was intact! A glorious feeling!

He narrowed his eyes, obviously not appreciating her free therapy. “So? What happened with your wedding?” He touched her arm suddenly. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Oh, she was definitely going to melt. A seriously hot guy who respected her privacy. What more could a woman ask for?

Maybe being single wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

“Cassie? Is that you?” The voice of her ex-fiancé shattered her fantasy like a rock through a stained glass window.

I don’t hear you.

“Cassie?”

Crud. She’d heard that. Go away.

But the whine of his voice grew closer and she knew the infectious poison wasn’t going to be deflected. He was coming. She slapped her hand against the wall and bent over, bracing herself as her stomach congealed into a sodden lump, dropped to her toes and began to ooze out the soles of her feet.

What a fine time to discover she wasn’t actually ready to face Drew yet. It would have been exponentially more convenient to have that realization before she’d vomited all over his feet. And Ty’s feet. Not that she was actually going to vomit. She was way too emotionally together to do something pathetic like that.

She hoped.

Note to self: sometimes delusions weren’t a good thing. Like thinking she could fly. Imagine if she thought she could fly, and jumped off the Empire State Building. A clear example of when a delusion could be a bad thing.

Or imagine attending a dance where your ex-fiancé would be. Imagine thinking you were prepared to face him, only to learn that no, you actually weren’t.

A great little nugget she’d be sure to incorporate into her future de-stressing strategies.

See? Something good could come of every situation. Was she a plucky survivor or what?

“Are you okay?” Ty’s amused expression had morphed into one of endearingly genuine concern. Or it would have been endearing if she wasn’t feeling so ill. What was up with the chocolate? It obviously wasn’t working exceptionally well at the moment. He touched her shoulder, his hand warm and reassuring through the soft angora. “You don’t look so hot.”

“Thanks. It’s every girl’s dream to be told she doesn’t look hot.” Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Ty’s cheeks turned a faint red, or at least she thought they did. It was hard to tell in the dim light with her eyes getting all foggy and the room starting to spin. “I didn’t mean it like you didn’t look good. You do look good. Pretty. Not that I noticed. I just meant you look like you don’t feel well.”

She would have patted his arm in consolation, if she weren’t clinging to the wall for dear life. “Just a touch of indigestion. I’m fine. Really.”

“Cassie! It is you.” An unwelcome hand latched on to her arm. “I didn’t realize you were back.”