The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,58
ran her fingers over the spot where he had slept, and hugged his pillow close, breathing in the tantalizing scent of him. She loved him so. Her mother couldn’t be right about him. She just couldn’t.
A small voice inside her seemed to whisper, “He loves you, truly loves you.”
She had to believe that.
TOWARD THE TAIL END of rush hour, Cass looked up from the register to see Griff by the front door talking to Aunt Min. He held three smallish boxes tied with red ribbons, and she watched him present one to Min with a big smile. Cass looked around for her mother, but she must have been in the kitchen or office.
“Hi there,” Cass said, walking toward him.
“Hello yourself. I got a yen for some chili.” He handed her a box.
“He gave me one, too,” Aunt Min said, holding open a box of chocolate-covered strawberries and smiling brightly. “Aren’t they scrumptious looking?”
“Where’s your mom?” Griff asked. “I have one for her as well.”
“I’ll go see if I can locate her,” Min said. “You can seat Griff.”
When her aunt left, he said, “At least she got my name right.”
“Aunt Min is a dear.” Cass motioned to a small table by the window. “Want a beer?”
“After last night, I’m not sure I’ll ever want another beer. Do you have time to join me?”
“I’ll take a few minutes. We’re not too busy.”
They had a quiet lunch, but Gloria never showed her face. After Griff left, Cass took the other box and tracked her mother down in the office. “Griff brought this for you.”
“Oh, thank you, dear.” She set the box on the desk without even peeking inside.
Later, after Min and Gloria had left for the day, the box still sat on the desk.
Cass sighed. What a mess. She was too old to play Juliet.
AFTER SHE CLOSED, Cass again found Griff waiting for her on the steps to her apartment. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I was lonely. Pack a bag and come with me. I’ve bought bubble bath and more massage oil. I’ll rub your feet. And we’ll spend all day tomorrow feeding each other bananas and grapes.”
“Bananas and grapes?”
“Somebody has to eat all the fruit I bought. And I’ll cook you the steak I promised.”
Cass had to consider for only half a second. She tossed some things in an overnighter and they were off.
“Do you like Marcia Ball?” he asked.
“I adore Marcia Ball. She’s won blues awards out the kazoo.”
“Good. I heard phenomenal things about her and got tickets to her show at someplace called Antone’s tomorrow night.”
“Great. Antone’s is a nightclub on Fifth Street.”
When they arrived at his building, Griff carried her bag upstairs. “Want a glass of wine while I fix your bath?”
“I’d love a glass of wine, but you don’t have to fix my bath.”
“Don’t be so independent. Let me do this for you. Red or white?”
“White.”
He filled two glasses and handed one to her. “I’ll be right back.” He flipped something and soft sax music drifted through the apartment. “Great sound system here.”
In a few minutes he returned, picked up her wine and pulled her to her feet. “Your bath is drawn.” He led her into his big spa-like bathroom, where a dozen candles perfumed the air and bubbles almost spilled out of the tub. “I overestimated the bubble bath a little, but I think this will do. Hop in. I’ll be right back.”
Cass didn’t have to be asked twice. She quickly shed her clothes and stepped in.
And quickly stepped out. The water was scalding hot, and her toes were boiled. She began to add some cold, but the bubbles rose higher and higher like a giant soufflé over the rim of the tub. She scooped a huge armload of foam and looked around for a place to put it.
The only logical place was the shower.
She was on her third armload when the door opened.
“What are you doing?” Griff asked.
“Moving bubbles. Help me. They’re alive and multiplying.” She handed him her load and reached for another.
“Honey, turn off the faucet.”
“I can’t find it!”
Mounds of bubbles were spilling onto the floor when Griff waded through the mess and managed to turn off the water. Hands on his hips and a disgusted expression on his face, he surveyed the foam covering the bathroom and spat out a very succinct expletive.
Cass picked up a big bunch of foam, shaped it into a huge ball and began singing “A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody” as she danced around the