The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,26

it.

When he got back to New York, he was going to call a meeting of the partners and have this out once and for all. Things weren’t working lately. Maybe he was simply tired of living out of a suitcase, but as the front man for the firm, travel was a reality of his position. What were his options?

DELIGHTED TO BE BACK in her apartment, Cass dressed for a night out with Griff. She dabbed on a bit of the lovely French scent her mom had brought her, then stepped into her black heels. Just as she gave her outfit a final check, the doorbell rang. Her heart did a little flip, and she had to force herself to walk slowly to the door. She even checked the peephole before she opened it.

It was Griff, looking like a million bucks. Make that ten million.

“You look lovely, dear.”

“Thank—” Ohmygawd! Her heart almost flew from her chest. Who said that? She hadn’t even opened the door.

Standing stiff and still as a post, she closed her eyes and refused to look behind her. She almost hoped it was a burglar; the other alternative was scarier. Unable to stand it a moment longer, she opened one eye and peeked over her shoulder.

There he stood. Tall, gray-haired and smiling. Her heart hammered faster.

“You!” she croaked.

“Me.”

“But—but—but you can’t be there.”

He chuckled. “I can’t?”

The doorbell rang again. She glanced at the door, then back over her shoulder. He was gone.

Quickly, she unlocked the door and yanked it open.

Griff’s smile faded. “What’s the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Cass must have gone a shade paler. She couldn’t have had much blood left in her face. “Come in. I’m not quite ready.” She turned and fled toward the bathroom.

Shaking and feeling a bit queasy, she propped herself against the vanity and stared at herself in the mirror. She did look as if she’d seen a ghost. Well, she had. Or had she? She splashed water on her face and buried it in a towel. Making an effort to clear her mind, she focused on deep breathing, the kind she’d learned in yoga classes.

Fatigue, she told herself. Fatigue had her mind playing tricks. Cool it, Cassidy. She did some more deep breathing until the shaking stopped. When she was calm, she repaired her makeup and added an extra dash of blush.

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she went back to the living room. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It was worth it. You look fantastic. Want to order a pizza and stay in?”

“No way. My mouth is watering for diamond-back rattlesnake cakes.” Picking up her big purse, she took Griff’s arm and steered him to the door.

Although it was a half hour drive to the restaurant, the route was one of the prettiest in Austin. A bit after seven they pulled to a stop in the lot of the restored rock cottage with a huge Texas flag displayed on the wall between the blue-shuttered windows. The fragrance of its beautiful flower and herb gardens filled the evening air.

“Want to sit inside or out on the patio?” Griff asked.

“Inside I think.”

The restaurant was a cozy and colorful mixture of rustic and elegant, and the tables were set with crisp white cloths and gleaming glasses and tableware.

When they were seated and looked at the menu, Griff said, “You weren’t kidding about the rattlesnake.”

“Nope. They have lots of exotic dishes here, and if venison, quail or wild boar doesn’t suit you, they have tamer things like ordinary steak and lobster. And their wine list is extensive.”

“Are you up to trying the chef’s seven-course meal?” Griff asked. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had seven courses before. Five maybe.”

“Go for it,” Cass said. “I don’t think I could eat that much, and I don’t much care for duck.”

“I love duck. What looks good to you?”

“I think I’m going to ask the chef for his recommendation.”

“You know the chef here?”

“Of course. Where do you think he comes for chili?”

The chef did indeed have suggestions, and they had a fabulous meal.

“Now I can say I’ve eaten rattlesnake,” Griff said.

“Think anybody in New Yawk will be impressed?”

“Cass, what is it with you and New York? You must have really been stung there. Was it a man?”

“Only partly. That was the final straw.” She stared into her wineglass and moved it in a slow circle. “It’s a matter of ‘New York is a great place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.’ And even