The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,60
listen to me. It may have started out that way, but I swear to God, things changed. I love—”
She slammed the front door in his face and ran for the elevator.
He yanked open the door and came after her. “Dammit, Cass, you’ve got to listen.”
Poking the elevator button repeatedly, she said, “Go away. My mother was right. She said you were a charlatan! To think that I—we— Oh, gawd! I’m such a gullible fool.” She poked the button again, and the door opened.
She rushed inside. Griff followed.
“You can’t come in here,” she said. “You’re naked!”
“I don’t care.” He wrapped the towel he held around his waist. “Sweetheart, please listen to me. I told Walt the deal was off, and—”
“I’m not listening to you, dirtbag!” She crammed her feet into her shoes. “I should have listened to my first instincts. I knew I couldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you. When will I ever learn?” She looped her bag over her head and shoulder.
The elevator door opened, and she ran for the sidewalk to elude him, and jogged toward home.
Undeterred, he jogged alongside her, barefoot and bare-assed in downtown Austin, trying to get her to listen to his lousy excuses. She ran faster. “Dammit, Griff, you’re naked!”
“I don’t care. I love you, Cass. I want to marry you and live in Austin and have babies!”
Oh, gawd. What if she was pregnant?
She ran faster.
At an intersection, a police car pulled alongside them and blocked the way. The cop got out. “Sir. Stop right there.”
The light turned and Cass shot across the street. She glanced over her shoulder to see Griff being put into the backseat of the patrol car. Her heart did a little flip, but she steeled herself. “Good enough, you slick weasel,” she muttered.
In a few minutes she was home, and as she was about to go upstairs, Sunny drove up. Cass waited for her to get out of her car.
“Cass, what’s wrong?”
“Griffin Mitchell is what’s wrong. Mom was right. You were right. Everybody was right. He’s a conniving son of a bitch! Did you know he’s a partner in ZASM?”
“What’s ZASM?”
“Walter Zeagler’s ZASM, the company trying to buy us out. Zeagler’s the Z, and Griff is probably the M. Griff came here to get in our good graces and cajole us into selling this property.”
“How did you find out?”
Cass told Sunny about the phone call and confrontation.
“Oh, dear Lord, Cass. How terrible. I’m so sorry.” She hugged her. “What can I do?”
“Nothing, sis. No, you can keep him away from me. I’m going to lock myself upstairs in my apartment. If I know him, he’ll be banging on the door any minute trying to ‘explain’—as if he could. I’m not answering the phone or my door, and if he tries to wheedle you into anything, don’t fall for it. Send him packing.”
“You got it. I’ll come up later and use our code to knock.”
They hugged again, and Cass ran upstairs, noticing only then that her shirt was on backward.
LUCKILY, AUSTIN COPS WERE understanding. The one who’d picked up Griff listened with a fairly straight face to his explanation of his attire. Then took him home.
Luckily as well, the valet in the garage vouched for him. Unfortunately, when Griff got upstairs he discovered he was locked out of his apartment. After a few choice words, he kicked the door, which didn’t bother the door but mangled his toe and hurt like hell.
Another trip down the elevator and he located someone with a pass key to let him in. Nobody he met on either trip commented on his dress. Maybe they thought he was wearing a bathing suit under the towel.
First thing he did was call Walt and ask him what the hell he wanted. No, he wouldn’t meet with him in Austin next week, and no, he wouldn’t change his mind about anything. He quizzed Walt about what he’d said to Cass, yelled a few colorful things about his parentage and brain size, and hung up. He’d begun to think months ago that Walt was losing it. No telling what the crazy bastard would do next. Griff had tried to tell the other partners, but as long as they were making huge profits, they didn’t much care.
He’d tried to reason with Walt, showed him research on a dozen other properties, but it was like trying to reason with a gorilla, so Griff had tied up a few loose ends, packed up his office and told them where