“What are you making?”
“It’s a surprise.”
She tried to peek as he bent down to grab something out of the mini fridge. The sight of his perfectly sculpted rear distracted her. He straightened and resumed his secretive mixing. Judging by the smirk he shot over his shoulder, he knew exactly what part of his anatomy she’d been ogling.
“Pour vous, mademoiselle,”he said as he turned and set a glass in front of her. She picked it up and sniffed, the scent of brandy mixed with nutmeg relaxing her.
“I can’t remember the last time I had a cocktail.” She took a sip, closed her eyes and moaned as the creamy, chocolaty drink hit her tongue. “What is this?” she asked as she opened her eyes,
“A Brandy Alexander.” Cass gestured to a dusty bottle behind him. “You had a passable cognac back here. Didn’t want it to languish any longer.”
“Thank you, Cass.” She glanced down at the shavings of nutmeg nestled on the frothy surface of her drink. One drink shouldn’t matter so much.
But it did. Between working double shifts and cooking, cleaning and managing her stepfamily’s existence, she couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something just for her.
Warm fingertips grazed her cheek. Her head jerked up as Cass tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, a tender gesture she leaned into before she could stop herself.
“You strike me as the kind of woman who takes care of everyone. But,” he whispered as he leaned in, his lips a breath away from hers, “who takes care of you, Briony?”
Me.
In a split second, she found herself caught between two worlds. Hopeless loneliness and a want so fierce it made her whole body ache.
A grim look settled on Cass’s handsome face.
“That’s what I thought.”
She jerked back, then tried to cover her movement with a casual sip of her drink.
“I’m very good at taking care of myself,” she said with a flippancy she didn’t feel.
“You are.”
“And tonight you made me a drink.” She shot him an appreciative smile, trying to recapture some of their flirtatious chemistry. “After a long shift, I’d count that as being taken care of.”
His gaze sharpened. She suddenly had the sensation she imagined one did when they realized they were in the sights of a predator.
Stop being melodramatic.
Yet she couldn’t shake the sense that something was off. It wasn’t just her horribly battered self-esteem talking, either. Why was a man of Cass’s obvious wealth and sophistication in Nowhere, Kansas? Why had he taken an interest in her? And really, what did she know about him other than that he was from some country in the Mediterranean and liked high-end liqueur?
Cass leaned a little closer, so close she could see dark flecks in his eyes. It made them glitter in a way that was both erotic and unnerving.
“What if I could help you, Briony?”
“What?” she sputtered.
“Not just you,” he continued as if they were having a normal conversation, “but your stepfather and stepsisters, too.”
Slowly, she set her drink down so she didn’t toss the contents in his face.
“In exchange for what?” she asked coolly. “Because it sounds like you’re about to offer to make me your mistress or whatever they’re calling it these days.”
The intensity that had settled over Cass darkened as his eyes crackled with mahogany sparks of anger.
“I would never dishonor you that way.” Her own anger dissipated as quickly as it had risen.
“Okay, then what are you suggesting?”