LITMIR.BIZ

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he’s also gorgeous, Cassie thought to herself as the memory of her neighbor’s tight naked buns flashed through her mind. When she noticed Mark glance at his watch again, she said, “You’d better go, Mark. You’ll be late for your speech.”

      “You know how important these functions are to my campaign,” Mark grumbled, unwilling to be dismissed without having the last word.

      “Which is exactly why you should go,” Cassie told him. “It would take me at least another hour before I could be ready.”

      Mark’s jaw muscles tightened as he sent her a scathing look. “Did it ever occur to you that I deserved the simple courtesy of a phone call, Cassandra?” he asked, his temper flaring again. “Who knows? Maybe I would have asked someone else to the luncheon. You obviously forgot all about me the second you had the opportunity to show up on Nick Hardin’s doorstep practically naked.”

      “Oh, for God’s sake, Mark, you’re blowing this out of proportion and you know it,” Cassie snapped back. “And excuse me for having the misguided notion that I meant a little more to you than just some warm body sitting at your elbow when you took the podium.”

      Mark glared back at her, then ran a hand through his dark, perfectly groomed hair. “You are special, and you know it,” he mumbled halfheartedly. “Maybe I would feel more secure if you were willing to make a commitment.”

      Cassie stared at the man who was her grandfather’s senatorial protegé and her mother’s answer to who’s who on the social roster. “I’ve told you a million times, Mark, when I decide to accept a marriage proposal, it will be based on love. Not because it will benefit my future husband’s political career.”

      Mark frowned, but he didn’t deny her accusation. “Well, it certainly won’t benefit my career or my campaign if word gets out that my girlfriend is hanging around with a bum like Nick Hardin.”

      “Why on earth are you so obsessed with Nick Hardin?”

      “I told you. He’s trouble. Surely you aren’t naive enough to think he won’t have a field day with your tirade about this dog problem on his damn radio program, Cassandra. I can’t afford a scandal like that this close to election, and you know it. Maybe you should call him and apologize.”

      “I’ll do no such thing!”

      Mark’s face turned crimson. “Listen, Cassandra, either you apologize to that idiot and head off the obvious disaster you’ll face if you go to war with him, or you can forget about me. It’s up to you. Make your choice now.”

      Cassie felt every drop of blood in her body drain to her feet. “If Duchess does turn up with a litter of unregistered puppies, Mark, I will sue Nick Hardin for damages, campaign or no campaign. So, you make the choice now.”

      Grabbing his jacket from the kitchen chair, Mark sent her a final disapproving look. “Remember, this was your call, Cassandra.”

      “No, this is your loss, you self-centered…” Cassie groped for the right word as Mark stormed out of the room. “Politician!” she finally screamed, but her brave words rang hollow when she heard the front door slam in the distance.

      Kicking the refrigerator, which only resulted in scraping the bare toes her sandal left exposed, Cassie let out a yelp, then limped to the kitchen table and, with an exasperated sigh, flopped down in one of the chairs. As amazing as it seemed, only twenty-four hours ago Cassie thought she had the entire world by the tail. Who would have guessed that the wag of a particular little tail would turn her world upside down?

      In the short span of one morning, she’d allowed a priceless show dog to do the wild thing with a mutt straight out of the garbage heap. She’d practically been arrested for making crank calls to the security police. And now she had willingly liberated her mother’s idea of the perfect husband to go off and find a more suitable mate.

      Well, that’s two major strikes against me as far as Mother is concerned, Cassie thought. First Duchess, and now Mark.

      The disastrous turn of events would certainly be good for at least one month of sickbed silence from her mother. And though Cassie should have been near tears, oddly, she wasn’t. In fact, the insane irony of the situation actually struck her funny. She had separated Duchess from her boyfriend, and now Duchess had indirectly returned the favor.

      Letting out a long sigh, Cassie rolled her head from side to side, trying to loosen the huge knot of tension that was now trapped between her neck and her shoulders. Praying that a hot shower might relieve at least the muscle-related part of her problem, Cassie started for her bedroom on the second floor. She had just reached the kitchen door when the shrill sound of the telephone sounded through the room.

      Deciding it was Mark, calling from his cell phone to apologize, Cassie let the phone ring several times. An apology from Mark was the last thing she wanted. In fact, Cassie didn’t want Mark period. Although her mother had visions of monogrammed towels and dirty diapers where she and Mark were concerned, Cassie had known from the beginning she would never let things go beyond dating with Mark. She had only kept up the pretense to keep Lenora off her back.

      After the fifth ring, Cassie answered the kitchen extension, prepared to tell Mark it was definitely over between them. Instead, she almost dropped the receiver when a familiar voice floated over the line.

      “Look, counselor, I know we both got a little hostile earlier, but I’m sure this is something we can settle over a chilled bottle of wine and a sensible conversation. How about eight o’clock? Your place or mine?”

      Cassie was dumbfounded. “You have to be the most arrogant, insufferable man I’ve ever met,” Cassie informed him.

      “Well, nobody’s perfect,” Nick agreed, “but you’re the one who said we had a problem to solve. I’m just suggesting that we settle things in a much more pleasant atmosphere than a courtroom.”

      Cassie laughed in spite of herself as a vision of Nick Hardin ushering dozens of women into his “much more pleasant atmosphere” danced through her mind. “Oh, I’m sure you handle all of your problems with a bottle of chilled wine and a sensual conversation, Mr. Hardin….”

      “I said sensible conversation.”

      “But we both know you meant sensual, don’t we?” Cassie chided.

      When Nick didn’t answer, Cassie added, “I left Duchess with the vet earlier, but it’ll take several weeks before the vet can determine if she’s pregnant.”

      “And then what?” Nick quizzed.

      “Then you can save yourself a lot of trouble and pay for the damages your dog caused, or we can settle this in court.”

      “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you, counselor?”

      “What do you think?” Cassie challenged.

      He laughed. “Lady, I think if you’d let nature take its course the way your fancy show dog did, you’d have a much better outlook on life.”

      NICK JERKED THE RECEIVER away from his ear when she slammed down the phone, breaking their connection. Chuckling to himself, he tried to imagine the flustered look on her perfect face, but his thoughts eventually switched to more important details. Details like whether or not she was still wearing those Daisy Dukes that had driven him crazy.

      Tossing the phone on the cushion beside him, he stretched out his long legs and leaned back on the sofa with his hands clasped behind his head. He hadn’t really expected the enraged Miss Collins to accept his offer, but he couldn’t resist calling the sexy wench, if only to rattle her chain a little. After all, this was the second time Cassandra Collins had gotten in his face. First with her complaint about his lawyer jokes, and now by storming into his life making threats about suing him over some stupid show dog.

      Glancing back at the notepad in his lap, Nick looked over the composite of information he’d been able to collect on the feisty female only minutes after she’d left him standing in a cloud of dust

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