Chapter Twelve

I didn’t want her to make the phone call, and I didn’t know why.

Because you don’t want to share her, my internal voice acknowledged.

Self-control was clearly going to be a problem. And I was little worried about what she would say to her friend. Billy had told me he’d taken care of it as soon as he’d realized what was going on, but I wasn’t convinced. Women don’t just let their friends take off with strange men.

I somehow managed to let go of the cell phone without crushing it.

“It’s a blocked number,” I warned. “And it’s a burner phone.”

Cass frowned at me. “So?”

I put my hands up. “Just letting you know.”

“Anything else I should know?” she asked.

“Just that Billy said he already took care of your friend.” I laughed at her sudden look of alarm. “Not like that.”

She hesitated. “I’m nervous.”

“You’re worried about lying to your friend?” I wanted to know. “You think she won’t believe you?”

Cass shook her head. “No, not that. Aside from the insanity of the situation, she won’t have a reason to doubt me.”

“What then?”

She looked away, dialled the phone, and didn’t answer. I could tell she knew the talk with her best friend wasn’t going to go well. I sat beside her on the couch, pretending it was so I could listen to the extension ring on the other end. But I just wanted to be near her. When she’d implied I was calling her a whore, I’d felt disturbed. Angry. Offended. I’d given her the check to make myself feel better.

What kind of man asks a woman to pretend to be his fiancée? I wondered, and before I could stop, I answered myself. The same kind of man who pays her to do it.

Her reaction had made me feel even worse. I’d responded without thinking, set on proving that I had not been insinuating she do anything more than putting on an act. But once I had started, I almost hadn’t been able to stop.

“Do you have to sit so close to me?” Cass asked.

I grinned. “Yes. I told you. I want to hear what she has to say.”

Her friend answered on the fifth ring, sounding sleepy and cranky.

“I got your note” was the first thing she said—so loudly that I had no problem hearing her. “What the fuck?”

“Blair…”

Cass paused, and glanced at me. I was sitting close to her for selfish reasons, but now that she had her friend on the phone, I really couldn’t take the risk that she was going to give something away. Blair was her best friend, and if I knew anything at all about how women and their best friends work, it was that their radar for things that involved men was almost paranormal.

She’s just doing me a favour, I reminded myself, then added, She’s even getting paid for it. That almost makes it legitimate work.

Her proximity to me kept reminding me all too clearly that I wouldn’t mind much at all if it became be something more.

“Billy took care of this,” I reminded her in a quiet voice.

“Is that him?” Blair demanded.

“Who?”

“The guy who took you home?”

Cass narrowed her eyes at me, probably wondering what the note had said. I shrugged. I had no idea what Billy had written either.

“What the fuck?” her friend said again. “You went home with a stranger! And now you’re staying with him? For how long? And for God’s sake. Why?”

“Be as honest as you can,” I murmured. “It will be easier in the long run.”

“He kinda…swept me off my feet,” Cass offered lamely.

I rolled my eyes and whispered, “You’re a very bad liar. Stick to details that make sense. Stuff she’ll believe but doesn’t sound crazy.”

She rolled her eyes back at me.

“I get it,” she muttered.

“What?” said Blair, still so loud that I could hear her.

“I was talking to him,” Cass told her.

“You sound annoyed,” Blair pointed out. “If he annoys you already, what’s it gonna be like in six months?”

I suppressed a grin.

“I’m not going to be here for that long,” Cass replied with another questioning glance at me.

I shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Well how long are you going to be there? And where is there? And Cass…What the fuck!” Blair yelled.

Cass winced.

“Listen, Blair,” she started slowly. “Remember last night when I was upset? And then I went to the bathroom—”

“And didn’t come back! And left me a lame-ass note with the waitress!” her friend shouted. “Yeah, it would be hard to forget something like that!”

“Would you please stop hollering at me?” Cass asked.

“Fine!” Blair hollered.

“Thank you,” Cass replied with a genuine smile.

“Speak, then,” she commanded.

Cass sighed. “Don’t freak out, but I think somebody slipped something into my drink.”

I nodded and gave her a thumbs up. It was as good a story as any. Blair gasped on the other end of the phone, and Cass started talking again before she could cut in.

“I wasn’t feeling well, and this man—the one I’m with now—kind of came to my rescue. I was really out of it, and I just didn’t even think. I was scared. He took me out to his car to lie down, and I passed out,” she lied.

“What makes you think it wasn’t this mysterious stranger who drugged you?” Blair demanded.

“I just know,” Cass told her.

“How?”

“He’s just...not that kind of guy,” she said.

“Oh! He’s gay, isn’t he?” She sounded both relieved and puzzled.

“No!” Cass protested.

I laughed. With my thigh resting against Cass’s leg, there was nothing that could make me more aware of my heterosexuality.

“There’s only one other way you could really know!”

Cass frowned. “What?”

“You know…” Blair replied. “The same way I know Doug isn’t a Doug-ette.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but Cass’s mouth dropped open a little and her face went red.

“It’s not like that, either,” she said.

“When I told you to get Dean out of your system, that’s not what I meant,” her friend admonished.

Dean. Jealousy surged, and I pushed it down.

“I said it’s not like that,” Cass repeated a little more emphatically.

Blair dropped her voice to what I assumed was her approximation of a whisper. “Did he kidnap you? Is he keeping you somewhere against your will? Wait. Is he listening?”

I burst out laughing. Who would guess something so outrageous? And the fact that it was very nearly true made me laugh even harder.

“Oh, Blair…” Cass sighed.

“Just so you know, you’re not really in love with him,” her friend told her, still in that unconvincing whisper. “It’s Munchausen syndrome.”

“What?” Cass sounded as puzzled as I felt.

“You know. Where you start to feel like you’re in love with the person who’s holding you hostage,” Blair explained.

Cass laughed, even though her cheeks were still an attractive shade of pink. “I think you mean Stockholm syndrome.”

“What’s that?” her friend asked.

“When a hostage starts to empathize with her captor,” Cass said with exaggerate patience.

“Well then what’s the other thing?” Blair wanted to know.

“I think that’s when someone believes they’re sick all the time but they’re not,” Cass told her.

“Are you sure?”

“Fairly.”

“Oh.”

There was a brief pause, and I motioned for Cass to hurry it up.

“I’ll call you again in a few days,” she offered.

“You sound…funny. Okay, but funny,” Blair said.

“I’m fine. I’m good. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Cass hung up and turned to me.

“Was that all right?” she wanted to know.

I grinned, and she ignored my smug expression.

“I need a shower,” she said. “And some clothes.”

“I can definitely take care of the second part,” I told her, and raised an eyebrow. “But I think we’ll need to know each other a bit better before I help you out with the first part.”

“You’re enjoying this more than you should be,” she told me, then stomped off to the bathroom.

I watched her go. It was true. I was enjoying her company. But I still wasn’t looking at all forward to dragging her into my world.

“There’s some spare sweats and a T-shirt under the sink in there,” I called after her.

“Whatever,” she snapped, and I grinned.

The second she closed the bathroom door, I went out into the hall and dialled Billy.

“Thought better of your situation?” he asked without bothering with a greeting.

I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to tell him that I had gone on to complicate my situation even more. “No.”

“Too bad,” Billy sighed. “You ready to apologize?”

“No.”

“Oh, you dump my ass unceremoniously on the side of the road, and let me guess—now you need me?” he asked.

“This isn’t the type of relationship where I have to apologize to you,” I snapped.

“I’m aware of how things work,” Billy replied, ignoring my tone. “But it never hurts to ask.”

“I’m supposed to have a meeting with someone in twenty minutes,” I said. “We’re at the Empress. How far away are you?”

“Five minutes,” he replied without hesitating, and I decided he had likely been tracking me anyway. “On my way.”