The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,38

profession. Although I’ll admit he was representative of everything I abhorred about my situation. He stole my ideas and presented them to the senior partners as his own, and got a big leg up by doing so. Worse, he didn’t see anything wrong with his dirty dealing. Fed me some line of crap about it not mattering whose ideas they were as long as they solved a problem the firm was having. Yay, team. Rah, rah, rah. Bull patties!

“He knocked me down and stomped all over my back to make points with the partners. I couldn’t do anything about it without sounding like a whining woman.”

“The bastard!”

“Uh, no. Literally, I’m a bastard. He’s a dickhead.”

Griff grinned. “Or worse.”

“Daniel was an egotistical, manipulating liar who used me for his own purposes.” She found her hand balled into a fist and shaking. “See, it still enrages me to talk about it. I can’t believe I didn’t get his number sooner. Not only did I feel betrayed, I felt like a gullible fool.”

“Cass, I’m not Daniel,” Griff said quietly.

“I know.”

“I could break his knees for hurting you. Want me to take my baseball bat and look him up when I’m in Manhattan?”

She smiled. “I’m tempted to say yes. But, no.”

“How about we get our food packed in take-out boxes?”

“Excellent idea. And a paper cup for our margaritas.”

AS SHE LAY WRAPPED in Griff’s arms, savoring the warm afterglow of their lovemaking, Cass would have been content to stay there forever. Not only was he a fabulous lover, Griff was everything else a woman would want. He was handsome, charming and considerate. He was thoughtful and kind and fun. He was every woman’s dream. Surely she was missing something. Nobody could be that perfect.

Or was he one of a kind and she simply the luckiest woman in Texas for running into Griffin Mitchell on the jogging trail?

He nuzzled her forehead. “What are you thinking?”

“Truthfully? I was thinking that you’re too good to be true. I’m wondering what’s the fatal flaw in this mix.”

“I’m not that good, but I’ll try my best to be good enough for you. The luckiest day of my life was when I met you. My mom is going to love you.”

Her cell phone rang. She located her bag and checked the ID. “Speaking of moms…” She sighed and answered.

“Cass, where are you, dear?”

“I’m out with Griff.”

“I see.” Her tone was decidedly stiff. “Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to let you know Min and I will be there about eleven-thirty to help with the rush hour in case things are as busy as they were today.”

“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that.”

“No bother. We’re happy to help. Don’t stay out too late. You need your rest.”

“I won’t, Mom. Good night.”

“Gloria, I presume?” Griff asked when she’d closed the phone.

Cass nodded. “She and Min are coming in to help with the noon rush. We had wall-to-wall people today. Maybe things will ease off a little tomorrow. I need to go home and get a good night’s sleep.” She kissed his chin and poked a finger in his dimple. “For some reason I don’t sleep much when you’re around.”

“My scintillating personality?”

“That, too.”

Cass started to rise, but Griff pulled her back into his arms. “I don’t want you to leave.” His tongue slowly traced the outline of her lips, and his hand slid up her leg. “Ever.”

One kiss and she melted.

She got home an hour later than she’d planned.

THE PACE WASN’T QUITE as hectic at noon as it had been the day before, but there were no empty tables in Chili Witches, and a few people had to wait five minutes or so.

By one forty-five, things had slowed considerably. Cass, her mother and Aunt Min sat down to have a glass of tea and a salad.

“Business is booming,” Min said. “I was just telling your mother that when we first started, we were lucky to have four of our six tables occupied.”

Gloria nodded. “Chili Witches has come a long way over the years. I hate to see you girls slave so hard and such long hours. You should have families, travel, have fun, not work yourselves to a frazzle. Why—”

She stopped speaking abruptly and turned pale as she stared at the front door. Cass turned around to see what caused her mother’s reaction. Sam Outlaw was hanging his white hat on the rack.

Oh, dear.

Her hand splayed against her chest and her eyes wide, Gloria continued to stare. “You don’t have to tell me who

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