He was good at what he did. No way the woman had any idea she was a target. He’d come up with a new plan, figure the best way to handle things.
Next time he’d get the job done.
Chapter Nineteen
Beau helped Cassidy into a long white-cotton nightgown. She was battered and bruised, cut and scraped, but she was okay. He should have insisted she sleep in the guest room, where she could get a good night’s rest, but he wanted to be able to check on her, make sure no problems came up. And after what had happened, he couldn’t seem to let her out of his sight.
The doctor had given her a couple of pain pills. Beau fixed her a glass of warm milk. After she drank it, she climbed into his bed, he tucked her in, and she drifted into a quiet sleep. For a while he just stood there watching her, grateful the accident hadn’t been worse.
Finally he undressed, eased onto the mattress beside her, and eventually fell asleep.
He wasn’t sure what time he started to dream. The nightmare, hazy at first, turned sharply vivid, an endless stream of images, all incredibly real. Sarah, standing beside a pond in the moonlight in a sheer white nightgown, brilliant rays shimmering on her long, silver-blond hair. She was so beautiful and he was so happy to see her.
The dream suddenly shifted and Sarah was in the city,standing in the middle of the street. A car was speeding toward her. He heard the squeal of brakes, the sound of shattering glass and the whine of twisting metal.
Images flashed, colors and sounds in his head, and Sarah was lying in the hospital. She was dying and it was no longer a dream—it was a memory. A terrible, aching memory of pain and suffering and death.
Then the dream changed again, and it wasn’t Sarah in the hospital bed, it was Cassidy. And she wasn’t sickly, she was vibrantly beautiful, with her big green eyes and soft dark curls. But she was dying, just like Sarah. Fresh pain sliced through him, an agony so deep he could feel it in every cell in his body. Pain and loss that lived eternally inside him and never went away.
Panic pumped adrenaline through his blood. Silently he screamed out to her, but it wasn’t Sarah’s name on his lips. It was Cassidy’s.
His eyes shot open. Beau scrubbed a shaky hand over his face. He was covered in perspiration, the dream still clear in his head. The accident had triggered the nightmare, the phone call to Cassidy, the fear in her voice, the utter horror he’d felt when he’d heard the screech of tires, the sound of breaking glass and grinding metal. He’d imagined the worst, imagined her body crushed beneath the weight of an oncoming car.
Somehow he’d managed to hold himself together enough to call the police as he’d driven like a madman toward her office. He’d found her alive, injured but okay.
For the first time, he realized how much he cared for her. How much she meant to him. He was in deeper with Cassidy than he’d been with any woman since Sarah.
In way too deep, and he couldn’t let it continue. If something happened to Cassidy, he couldn’t handle it. He never wanted to go through that kind of pain again.
It was still dark outside when Beau eased out of bed andpadded naked into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and drained the glass, felt a little better. He could handle this. He just needed to keep her at a distance, make sure he didn’t get in any deeper.
True, they were good together. He appreciated her sharp mind and enjoyed her company, and they were fantastic together in bed. But eventually the sexual attraction would fade. She was a smart woman. She’d be prepared for that, be able to handle it when the time came for things to end.
His chest clamped down at the thought of her leaving. He took a deep drink of water and forced himself to relax. It wasn’t over between them yet. He needed Cassidy’s help to prove his innocence. He’d just have to be a little more careful, keep his feelings in check.
He thought of the beautiful woman asleep in his bed and found himself moving in that direction. It would all work out, he told himself.
He and Cassidy could enjoy each other for as long as it lasted. All he had to do was make sure he didn’t fall in love.
* * *
Her mind felt fuzzy and something was ringing in her head. Cassidy roused herself, managed to wake up enough to realize the pain pills had worn off and Beau’s cell phone was ringing.
She glanced around. Beau’s bedroom was as sleekly contemporary as the rest of the house, with a sitting area in front of a modern fireplace off to one side. The furniture was dark wood, not light like most of the house. The ultramodern bathroom was amazing.
Beau fumbled with the phone, managed to grab it off the nightstand as he swung his long legs to the side of the bed. “Reese.”
With his back to her, she admired the long musclesmoving beneath his smooth skin, his broad shoulders and tight round behind. A tug of desire pulled low in her belly.
She focused on Beau’s conversation, couldn’t tell who was on the other end of the line, but Beau was frowning.
“Cassidy’s with me. Eleven o’clock will work. We’ll see you there.” He hung up the phone, set it back down on the nightstand.
“Who was it?” she asked.
“Tom Briscoe. Chief Warren wants to see me. I told Tom we’d drive out. We’re meeting them at eleven.”
Cassidy sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up to cover herself. Beau’s gaze went to her breasts and her face went warm. She tried not to think of sex for the second time that morning.
