Girl Least Likely to Marry
Girl Least Likely to Marry
Amy Andrews
Talk nerdy to me…Samuel Tucker is absolutely the last person scientist Cassie Barclay would ever date. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but he’s also far too cocky for his own good and thinks that pi is a tasty afternoon treat. So when he asks her to dance at her friend Reese’s non-wedding she’s wondering why on earth she says yes!Tuck is used to people assuming he’s all brawn and no brain, and amuses himself by winding Cassie up. But when he finally takes her to bed, suddenly it’s Tuck who can show Cassie a thing or two!Can he convince her that love and sex have nothing to do with logic and everything to do with chemistry?
Talk nerdy to me
Samuel Tucker is absolutely the last person scientist Cassie Barclay would ever date. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but he’s also far too cocky for his own good and thinks that Pi is a tasty afternoon treat. So when he asks her to dance at her friend Reese’s non-wedding she’s wondering why on earth she says yes!
Tuck is used to people assuming he’s all brawn and no brain, and amuses himself by winding Cassie up. But when he finally takes her to bed, suddenly it’s Tuck who can show Cassie a thing or two! Can he convince her that love and sex have nothing to do with logic and everything to do with chemistry?
‘Are you okay?’
Cassie nodded automatically, but she doubted she’d ever be okay again. She felt like she’d just had a lobotomy. Could a kiss render you stupid?
‘I think I should go now. Unless…’ He dropped his gaze to her swollen mouth.
Cassie shook her head and took a step back. No unless. Go, yes, just go. He’d turned her into a dunce.
Tuck smiled at her dazed look. It was nice to have left an impression on Little-Miss-Know-It-All. ‘Good night, Cassiopeia.’
Cassie was incapable of answering him. She feared she’d been struck mute. As well as dumb. She watched him swagger to his room opposite hers, slot his key in, open his door. He turned as he stepped into his room.
‘I’ll be right over here. If you need a cup of shhu-gar.’
Cassie had no pithy comeback as his door clicked quietly shut.
Dear Reader,
I’m so excited to be involved in my very first MODERN TEMPTED™ continuity and to have worked with three authors who are not only wonderful writers but absolutely fabulous women! Writing a set of linked stories especially when each writer is separated by vast amounts of land and/or ocean can be challenging, but I think I can speak for all of us when I say we had a lot of fun during our online brainstorming sessions. I know for me there was something beautifully symbiotic about the depth of friendship between our four fictional friends and the way our friendships deepened over the course of the continuity.
I had a great time writing Girl Least Likely to Marry, affectionately known to us and those who follow me on twitter, as the #jock and the #geekgirl. But, I have to tell you, it was much more difficult than I ever imagined. As someone used to writing heroines with emotional depth, Cassie was a true challenge because, while she had IQ to burn, her EQ was practically non-existent. It took me quite a while to get a handle on her and I think I only really managed it by getting inside the hero’s head. Tuck, in his laid-back Texan way, totally got Cassie. And getting to know him gave me a way to understand her.
I think out of all my heroes, I love Tuck the most. And that’s not just because he’s the kind of guy that belongs on a billboard advertising underwear (you know the kind, right?), but because his utterly alpha competitive spirit refused to let Cassie settle for the half-life she’d accepted as her lot.
I really hope you enjoy Cassie and Tuck’s story about two people who weren’t looking for love but found it anyway!
Love,
Amy
Girl Least Likely
to Marry
Amy Andrews
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
AMY ANDREWS has always loved writing, and still can’t quite believe that she gets to do it for a living. Creating wonderful heroines and gorgeous heroes and telling their stories is an amazing way to pass the day. Sometimes they don’t always act as she’d like them to—but then neither do her kids, so she’s kind of used to it. Amy lives in the very beautiful Samford Valley, with her husband and aforementioned children, along with six brown chickens and two black dogs.
She loves to hear from her readers. Drop her a line at www.amyandrews.com.au
This and other titles by Amy Andrews are available in eBook format—check out
www.millsandboon.co.uk
To Aimee Carson, Heidi Rice and Kimberly Lang.
Thanks for the laughs, ladies—it was an absolute pleasure. Let’s do it again sometime!
teaser
THE WEDDING SEASON
begins this month with Reese’s story in The Unexpected Wedding Guest by Aimee Carson
Don’t miss Gina’s and Marnie’s stories, out next month!
Contents
Prologue (#u98adbcac-73c3-5859-ab62-a52a798cd8b0)
Chapter One (#u81acc79c-9b85-5604-b3d6-6688a239df07)
Chapter Two (#ufec0254c-59a2-5ab8-a955-0531755e142d)
Chapter Three (#ue5ccd090-bfa6-54b9-98ff-7db06dd555cf)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE
Ten years ago, Hillbrook University campus,
upstate New York…
Cassiopeia Barclay tapped the rim of her wine glass to the other three. ‘Of course it’s not the end,’ she said, looking around at her fellow flatmates. ‘Of course it’s just the beginning. Tonight may be our last night together but not for long. We’ve got the road trip coming up soon, remember?’
The women all nodded in agreement although trust fund princess Reese looked quickly away, throwing back a hefty slug of her champagne. Gina, the Brit, followed suit, knocking her drink back with practised gusto. Southern Belle Marnie sipped regally, her good manners always on display.
Denying her Australian roots, Cassie also sipped her drink. Not because of good manners, or in deference to the expensive Dom Perignon that Reese and her Park Avenue pay cheque gave them access to—Cassie couldn’t care less if she was drinking Dom or Dr Pepper—but because everything she did was calm and measured and logical.
Why down champagne, posh or otherwise, when it only led to a hangover?
Her first ever hangover had been here in this house, with these three women, and she had no desire to repeat the experience. That was the ultimate definition of stupidity.
And Cassiopeia Barclay was far from stupid.
In fact with an IQ of one hundred and sixty-three she was officially a genius.
Their attention was returned to the nearby athletic field, in plain view of their deckchairs. The sky was starting its slow slide into evening but Hillbrook’s male track team could still easily be made out as they went through a training drill. It was a regular ritual for the ‘Awesome Foursome’, as they’d been dubbed, and Cassie joined in because these three women had been her family, accepting her social inadequacies without question, and they enjoyed it.
But, try as she might, she didn’t get the fascination with either sport or the men who played it. Most of them were no doubt here on some trumped-up scholarship and Cassie found that pretty annoying. Why was it that there was no money to support scientific research but somehow there was always cash for another track field?
Gina sighed as a particularly buff guy leaned over, touching his toes, exposing the backs of his legs, his shorts riding up to reveal a peek at one taut buttock. ‘Now, that is a well put together arse,’ she murmured, her British accent even more pronounced in this very American setting.
Marnie rolled her eyes. The blonde from the Deep South was as different from the Englishwoman as was possible. She was petite and perky, with an innocence about her that stuck out like a sore thumb next to Gina’s brash sexuality. But Cassie had seen Marnie come out of her shell over the course of the year, much like her, and a lot of that was owed to Gina and Reese’s differing but vibrant influences.
Reese smiled at Gina indulgently. She’d been doing that a lot this last week, Cassie realised belatedly. Smiling. Gina’s assertion earlier that it had something to do with a certain Marine had been confirmed by Reese’s startling confession that said Marine was the one.
Imagine that! After a week!
Sometimes Cassie felt like an alien in their midst, and it was nothing to do with her Australian accent. Even at nineteen they all seemed sophisticated women of the world next to her, introverted geek girl—Marnie included.
Reese had just dropped the bombshell that she’d fallen in love at first sight, Gina was slowly working her way through the entire eligible—and not so eligible—male population of the United States, and Marnie was sighing over her friend’s big white virginal wedding.
It was utterly perplexing, but also interesting—from a behavioural science perspective. How much more could her friends achieve if they locked up their hormones and concentrated on their chosen careers like she had? Still, these three women had opened her up to a whole world that she hadn’t been aware of before, and all new experiences were beneficial.
Back home in Australia she’d led a largely solitary existence. Either at home with her parents, shut in her room and absorbed in some research or other, or at university doing the same thing.
There’d been no girlfriends. No boyfriends. No late-night drinking or ogling track teams.
But here at Hillbrook her ‘gal pals’—yes, according to Gina they were gal pals—hadn’t taken her social awkwardness, lack of fashion sense or inept dancing as an excuse. They’d dragged her to nightclubs and frat parties, and to bars where they served cocktails by the jug and Karaoke was King. They’d loaned her dresses and shoes, done her make-up and styled her hair and, most importantly, they hadn’t taken no for an answer.
She had a lot to thank them for. She would look back on her year in the US as a social experiment, with her as the subject, from which she had collected some very useful data.
‘One day, Gina,’ Reese said, interrupting Cassie’s train of thought, ‘you are going to fall hard and fast for some guy, and I hope I’m going to be there to tell you I told you so!’
Marnie raised her glass. ‘Cheers to that,’ she said.
Gina scoffed in her very English way with a toss of her glossy dark hair. ‘To hell with that.’
The others laughed as they returned to their regularly scheduled programming—the track team. Cassie followed suit, smiling at Gina’s running commentary but perplexed by it at the same time. She was deeply thankful that jocks did nothing for her and that she was far too rational to be swayed by hormones.
Sure, as a scientist she understood that human beings were under the influence of their biological imperative to mate, but she also believed in head over heart. Certainly Gina wouldn’t be in the quandary she was now if she’d been thinking with her brain instead of her ovaries.
Sleeping with Marnie’s brother Carter last week had really rattled Gina. Cassie was generally fairly oblivious to nuances, but she’d have had to be deaf, dumb and blind to miss Gina’s edginess. Quite why Gina was edgy Cassie had no idea. What was done was done. And it wasn’t Gina who was engaged to be married, was it?
Which was exactly what she’d told Gina when she’d confessed the transgression to her last week and Gina had sworn her to secrecy.
It was at times like this that Cassie was glad she’d vowed never to fall victim to love. How could she when she simply didn’t believe in it? And, even if she did, she didn’t have time for the messy, illogical minefield of it all. Not while there was a big universe to study which was infinitely more fascinating than any man.
A shout of triumph from the track brought Cassie back into the conversation flowing around her.
‘Mmm, that’s right, my lovely blond Adonis.’ Gina’s commentary continued. ‘Give your mate a hug, then.’ The men complied, as if Gina had yanked their strings. ‘Ding-dong,’ she cooed on a happy sigh, and Marnie and Reese laughed.
Cassie watched the display of male camaraderie, rolling her eyes as they high-fived and man-hugged. They reminded her of gorillas. Next they’d be beating their chests and picking nits off each other. One thing was for sure: should she ever drop a hundred IQ points and end up with some man he would never be of the jock variety.
‘Tell us about the stars, Cassie.’
Cassie glanced over at Marnie, whose head was dropped over the back of her chair as she pointed to the first star just visible in the sky. ‘That’s Venus, right…evening star?’
Cassie smiled. Marnie was forever talking about the night skies over Savannah and had loved having her own personal astronomer at her beck and call. ‘Yep,’ she confirmed, looking at the pinprick of light in the velvet sky.
‘Will we be able to see Cassiopeia tonight?’ she asked.
Cassie shook her head. ‘It’s too light here. When we’re on our road trip we’ll stop at the Barringer Crater in Arizona. We’ll sleep under the stars and I’ll show you then.’
It was the main reason Cassie was going on the trip. Time with her gal pals would be great, but she’d always wanted to see the crater site formed when a meteorite had ploughed into the earth fifty thousand years ago, and that was her priority.
‘You speak for yourself,’ Gina butted in. ‘The only stars the Park Avenue Princess and I are sleeping under are of the five-star variety. Isn’t that right, Reese?’
Reese nodded. ‘Er…yes,’ she said, looking quickly away and taking another decent slug of her champers.
‘Carter proposed to Missy under the stars at the Grand Canyon. Isn’t that romantic?’ she said, her voice dreamy. ‘Our families were on holiday together. Missy and I stayed up all night talking about how wonderful it was.’
‘Bless their hearts,’ Gina said, mimicking Marnie’s Southern drawl.
It had taken Cassie a few months of Gina teasing Marnie over the quaint Southern phrase to realise it could be used to mock as well as to sweeten. Glancing at Gina’s tense profile, she guessed this was one of the mocking times.
‘Missy wants a star theme running through the reception,’ Marnie continued ignoring Gina’s sarcasm. ‘She’s spending a small fortune on this gorgeous black drapery that billows from the ceiling and twinkles with thousands of tiny lights…’
Cassie didn’t really understand why you’d spend good money on creating the illusion of a starry sky when the real thing was up there for free. It certainly didn’t seem to be very effective budgeting. But weddings were as much a mystery to her as the notion of love, so she gave up trying to figure it out.
She was just going to lounge here with her friends and watch the stars come out.
One last time.
ONE
A decade on…
Cassiopeia watched Tuck… whatever his last name was…of quarterback fame swagger in the general direction of their table with his long, loose-limbed gait. Somehow his big, blond athleticism seemed to dominate the vast expanse of the open tent, with its delicate swathes of royal blue draped across the ceilings and trailing gently to the deck. But then she had a feeling he’d probably dominate any setting.
He made slow progress. Men stopped him to slap him on the back and shake his hand. Women stopped him to bat their eyelashes and put their hands on him. He took both in his stride, shrugging off their adoration with a wide, easy Shucks, I ain’t nuthin’ grin. The man was so laid-back Cassie was surprised he managed to stay vertical.
Very different from the man she’d watched only yesterday playing a very physical game of one-on-one basketball with Reese’s ex-Marine ex-husband Mason.
Reese had left the party that had originally been intended to be her wedding to Dylan to go after Mason, but her instructions to the remaining members of the Awesome Foursome had been clear—make sure no one gets into a fight.
Reese had deliberately sat Tuck, the jilted groom’s best man, next to her—away from Gina—to prevent such a calamity.
With Tuck firmly on Team Dylan and Gina, whose favourite pastime was baiting people, on Team Reese, Cassie could already tell it was going to be a long night.
‘He sure is pretty,’ Gina murmured with relish as she tracked his progress.
A very long night.
Cassie didn’t really see the attraction. But then she’d never been a slave to her hormones. She just wasn’t programmed that way.
Sure, Tuck Whats-his-name had all the features that the female of the species looked for in a mate. He was tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped. She couldn’t see the delineation of the muscles in his chest tonight, although they were obviously there beneath his charcoal suit. She knew from his shirtless one-on-one yesterday that they were plentiful and very well developed.
And, in the animal world, muscles equalled strength.
Another biological tick in his favour.
There was also the symmetry of his face. Square jaw, prominent cheekbones, nose, chin and forehead all proportional. Eyes evenly spaced. Lips perfectly aligned. Facial symmetry was one of the big markers of physical attraction and worthiness for mating, and Tuck had it in spades.
But Cassie still didn’t get it.
‘I have to go to the bathroom,’ she said, turning to Gina. ‘Try not to get into a fight with him while I’m gone. Remember, Reese is counting on us.’
‘I’ll be on my best behaviour,’ Gina assured her.
If Cassie had been better at picking up sarcasm she wouldn’t have been assured one iota, but she nodded, satisfied.
‘Here—reapply,’ Gina said, reaching into her clutch purse and pulling out the deep mulberry lipstick she’d slathered on Cassie’s mouth earlier.
Cassie frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because.’ Gina sighed. ‘That’s the price of wearing lippy.’ She waggled the item at her friend, who was looking at it as if it were a foreign object she’d never seen before. ‘Beauty is pain.’
Cassie smiled at the old catchphrase. Beauty is pain. She’d learned many things about being a woman under Gina’s tutelage. Gina could wear a pair of killer stilettos out clubbing all night without a single wince. Cassie had pretty much forgotten everything in the intervening decade, but she’d never forgotten how Gina had taken her under her wing—as if she were an Antipodean Eliza Doolittle.
Of course Cassie had failed ‘Female 101’ resoundingly, but Gina had been sweet and patient and there was just something about her vibrant personality that drew people. Cassie and Gina had stayed in contact despite the wedge that had been driven between the Awesome Foursome after Gina had thrown her one-night stand with Carter in Marnie’s face that fateful last night together ten years ago.
And now, a decade down the track, Gina was still looking out for her in the fashion stakes. Gina had taken one look at the shapeless maxi-dress Cassie had been going to wear and declared it an unnatural disaster. Before Cassie had known it she was swathed in soft grape fabric with no sleeves, a plunging crossover neckline, a ruched form-fitting waist and an A-line skirt, the hem of which fluttered just below her knees.
Her straight brown hair had been freed from its regulation floral scrunchie and loosely curled. Sparkly, strappy kitten heels had been supplied. A subtle hand had seen to eyeshadow and mascara. Lipstick had been brandished with gusto.
‘Reapply,’ Gina repeated.
Bowing to a greater knowledge, Cassie took the lipstick as instructed and departed.
Tuck pulled up at the table he’d been allocated a minute later. His knee ached but he ignored it in deference to the sultry sex goddess with raven hair. She was dressed in something red and clingy, sitting there looking up at him with a smile on her full mouth. A connoisseur of women from way back, he liked what he saw.
He shot her one of his killer smiles. He knew they were killer because an article about him in Cosmo had spent an entire paragraph talking about the sheer wickedness of his smile.
‘Well this here may just be my lucky night,’ he drawled, deliberately dragging out his vowels, plying her with all his Southern charm. His accent had been blunted over the years, with travel and living far from his Texan roots, but he could still pull it out when required.
According to the magazines, women just loved all that Southern country-boy charisma.
Gina quirked an elegantly arched eyebrow. ‘Oh, yes? Do tell,’ she murmured.
‘Ah, you’re the Brit.’ He grinned. ‘Gina, right?’
She nodded. ‘And you’re the quarterback.’
Tuck checked the closest handwritten place card on the table, disappointed to see that he was sitting directly opposite this sexy Englishwoman. He held it up and looked at her. ‘What say we switch this one for whoever’s supposed to be sitting next to you?’
‘Hmm…’ Gina placed her elbows on the table, propping her chin on one palm, pretending to think. ‘I think Reese meant to keep you and I apart.’
Tuck shot her his best wounded look. ‘And why would she want to do that?’
‘I think she was afraid you and I might come to blows.’
He continued his faux outrage. ‘Over what?’
‘Over her recent…shall we say…split from the groom. Your best friend?’
‘Ah. Well, now, if Dylan’s unconcerned then there’s no good in me holding a grudge, is there? Besides,’ Tuck said, pulling out his chair and sitting, his knee protesting at the movement, ‘I can flirt just as well from this side.’
Gina laughed. She couldn’t help herself. The big blond quarterback had an ego the size of North America. ‘You’re that good, huh?’
‘Darlin’, I am the best.’
Gina spied Cassie in the distance, making her way back to the table. She flicked her gaze to Tuck. It would be good to see him brought down a notch or two. ‘Works every time, huh?’
Tuck grinned at the sudden sparkle of light he could see in her eyes. ‘Every time.’
‘No one’s immune to your charm?’
Tuck shook his head. ‘Women love me. If they’re female and breathing…’ He shrugged, then dazzled her with another wide smile. ‘What can I say? I have a gift.’
Gina smiled back. He really was an exceedingly good-looking man, and his cast-iron confidence only added to his allure. It was a shame she wasn’t in the right frame of mind for a dalliance because she had an idea a night in bed with Tuck would be a great way to forget how badly she’d stuffed up all those years ago.
But her heart wasn’t in it.
Just then the DJ played his first number for the night and Tuck pressed home the advantage. ‘Ah, they’re playing our song,’ he teased. ‘How about we knock off the pretence and you just dance with me, Gina?’
Gina considered him a moment, aware of Cassie drawing closer all the time behind Tuck’s head. ‘Nah, getting me to dance would be too easy. Care to take a little wager?’
Tuck smiled at her. A woman who liked to gamble—better and better. He leaned forward. ‘I’m all ears.’
‘I bet you can’t get her—’ Gina nodded her head to indicate Cassie ‘—to dance.’
Tuck turned in his chair to see who Gina had in mind for him. A woman about the same age as Gina in some kind of purple dress was walking towards them. She had long dark brown hair arranged in loose ringlets that fell forward over nice bare shoulders. She had a cute nose, pretty eyes and an interesting mouth, and she was walking along seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, a slight frown marring her forehead as if her thoughts were somewhere else.
She was no English sex kitten, that was for sure.
She didn’t look like the average gridiron groupie either. Still, she was female, and Tuck had always liked a challenge. He turned back and smiled at Gina. ‘Piece of cake.’
Gina laughed. ‘Oh, this is going to be good.’
Tuck raised an eyebrow. ‘What do I get? When I win?’
Gina smiled. ‘The pleasure of Cassie’s company, of course.’
Tuck inclined his head. ‘Of course.’
Despite her earlier concerns about leaving Gina and Tuck together, Cassie had given it little thought in the fifteen minutes she’d been away. Her brain had been mulling over the findings of an astronomy research paper she’d read last night. She’d even applied the lipstick as ordered by Gina without conscious thought as she recalled the fascinating data.
She was surprised for a moment when she arrived back at the table to find Tuck Whats-his-name sitting there with Gina, apparently getting along just fine. She slotted the research into a file in her head and shut it down with a mental mouse click.
‘Everything okay here?’ she asked.
Tuck took a deep breath, then stood and used one of his very best hey-baby smiles on Cassie. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Reese’s cousin, Tuck.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘It’s mighty fine to meet you, ma’am.’
Cassie blinked up at him as he towered over her. Two things struck her at once. The man smelled incredible. Her nostrils flared as her senses filled up with him. And it wasn’t his cologne, because she was pretty sure she couldn’t smell anything artificial at all. Maybe a hint of soap or deodorant.
This was much rawer. More primal. Powerful. Overpowering, even. It made her want to press her nose to his shirt and inhale him. It demanded that she do so and she had to actually put her hands on the chair-back to stop herself.
So this was pheromones.
Scientists had known of their existence for decades, and perfume companies around the world had been trying to perfect them for just as long, but this man exuded it in hot, sticky waves.
Her salivary glands went into hyper-drive and she swallowed as she grappled with the urge to sniff him.
The second thing was his eyes. They were an intense, startling blue. The exact shade of an exploding star she’d once seen through the lens of a deep space telescope. They were out of this world. They were cosmic. Captivating.
Tuck looked into Cassie’s upturned face. She was staring at him, her lips slightly parted, the sound of her breath husky in his ears. He glanced at Gina and grinned.
Piece of cake.
‘Ma’am?’
Cassie dragged herself back from the universe she could see in his eyes, his intoxicating scent still singing to her like a Siren from the rocks. ‘Oh, yes…sorry.’ She shook her head. What had he said? Name. He’d introduced himself. ‘I’m Cassie,’ she said. ‘Cassiopeia.’
And then she made the mistake of slipping her hand into his and his pheromones tugged at her—hard.
‘So you’re the geek,’ he said softly, smiling at her.
Another dizzying wave of male animal wafted over her and it took a moment for Cassie’s brain to clear the fog.
Yes, she was the geek. And he was the jock. She had him by a good sixty IQ points—probably more. She didn’t get stupid around men. She didn’t get stupid, period!
So start acting like it!
She pulled her hand from his abruptly. ‘And you’re the jock,’ she said, as much to remind herself as a statement of fact.
Tuck refused to be offended. He shot Gina a faux insulted look. ‘Why do I get the feeling that Cassie isn’t fond of jocks?’
Gina lifted a shoulder. ‘Don’t take it personally. Cassie’s not fond of men generally.’ He shot her a look and she cut him off before he gave voice to what she knew he was thinking. ‘Not women, either.’
Tuck grinned, then turned his attention back to Cassie. Okay, so he had his work cut out for him. His momma always said things came too damn easy to him anyway. Her eyes were even prettier up close. A grey-blue, like a misty lake, with subtle charcoal and silver eyeshadow bringing out both colours perfectly.
He nodded at her place card on the table next to his and said, ‘Looks like I have the whole night to change your mind.’ Then he pulled out her chair and smiled at her.
Cassie didn’t move for a moment. She simply stared at him as the deep modulation of his voice joined forces with his heady scent to drench every cell in her body with a sexual malaise. Her nipples beading against the fabric of the flimsy dress Gina had loaned her snapped her out of it.
‘I usually require several pieces of evidence from trusted sources before I change my mind about anything,’ she said primly, taking the seat.
‘Noted,’ Tuck murmured, stifling a grin as he took his seat. He lounged back in it, regarding Cassie as she fiddled with her cutlery. ‘So, you don’t sound like you’re from around these here parts,’ he said.
‘No.’ Cassie refused to elaborate. Just because Reese thought it was a good idea to sit them together, it didn’t mean she had to be agreeable.
Gina rolled her eyes and took pity on Tuck. ‘Cassie’s Australian.’
‘Ah. Whereabouts? Sydney? That’s one pretty little city you have there,’ he said.
‘Canberra,’ Cassie said as she ran her finger up and down the flat of her knife. ‘It’s the capital,’ she added. A lot of people didn’t realise that.
And he was a jock.
‘Well, now,’ he said, leaning forward in his chair, his gaze acknowledging Gina before returning to Cassie, ‘we can have us a meeting of the United Nations.’
‘Hardly,’ Cassie said, desperately trying to sit as far back in her chair as possible and remember that he was a jock—a footballer—even if he did have pheromones so potent he should be being studied at the Smithsonian. Or milked and sold to the highest-bidding perfume manufacturer.
‘There are one hundred and ninety-three member states in the United Nations. And they meet in Geneva.’ She looked at Tuck. Jocks weren’t very good with geography. ‘That’s in Switzerland.’
Tuck raised an eyebrow. He was used to people making assumptions about his intelligence. Truth be told, he played up to them mostly—because calling people on their ignorance was usually an amusing way to pass the time.
It looked as if he was going to have a whole lot of fun with Cassie. ‘That’s just north of Ireland, right?’
Cassie pursed her lips. ‘It’s in Europe.’
‘Europe? Dang,’ Tuck said, broadening his accent. ‘I’m always getting them muddled up.’
‘Of course if you’re talking about the Security Council,’ Cassie plunged on, as the deep twang in his accent twanged some invisible strings low down inside her she’d never known existed, ‘that’s in New York. And you’d be in luck as Australia has just scored a seat on the Security Council.’
Tuck shot a look at Gina, who winked and grinned, clearly enjoying herself. Tuck was about to say something like, They wear those funny blue helmets at the Security Council, right? But the imperious tones of his and Reese’s Great-Aunt Ada interrupted.
‘Samuel Tucker,’ she said in her brash, booming New York accent. ‘How’d you sneak in here undetected?’
Tuck stood and smiled down at the self-appointed matriarch of the family. A died-in-the-wool Yankee, she liked to pretend that the Southern branch didn’t exist most of the time, but he had a soft spot for the sharp-tongued octogenarian.
‘Aunt Ada,’ he said, sweeping her up in his arms for a hearty hug. ‘Still as pretty as a picture, I see.’
Cassie felt herself sag a little as Tuck and his overwhelming masculinity gave her some breathing space.
‘Don’t sweet-talk me, young man. What are you doing all the way over here?’
Tuck gestured to the table. ‘I’m keeping Reese’s friends company.’
‘Reese…’ Ada tutted. ‘Running off after that Marine… That girl hasn’t got the sense she was born with…lucky she’s my favourite.’
‘Now, come on, Aunt Ada,’ Tuck teased. ‘I thought I was your favourite.’ Ada gave him a playful pat on the shoulder, then lifted one gnarled old hand and squeezed his cheek.
Gina’s mobile rang and she almost ignored it. She couldn’t decide what was more fascinating—the big blond quarterback sweet-talking an old lady or Cassie’s deer-in-the-headlights face. But it rang insistently, and Ada turned to her, looking imperiously down her nose.
‘Well, girl, are you going to answer that or not?’
Gina, recognising authority when she saw it, picked it up immediately. The screen display flashed a familiar number. ‘It’s Reese,’ she announced.
‘Reese.’ Ada tutted again. ‘Tell her to get back here. This non-wedding party was her hare-brained idea.’
Gina laughed, but as she answered the phone Ada’s interest had already wandered.
Cassie felt her shrewd gaze next.
‘This your girl?’ she said, turning to Tuck.
‘Absolutely not,’ Cassie said indignantly.
Then Tuck undid his jacket button and it fell open, wafting a heady dose of pheromones her way. She shut her eyes briefly as her pulse spiked in primal response.
‘She’s not your usual type,’ Ada said, ignoring Cassie’s denial.
‘I am not his girl,’ Cassie repeated, even though she could practically hear every cell calling his name.
‘It’s okay,’ Ada assured her. ‘I hate his usual type. Too…fussy.’
Tuck looked down at Cassie. She was frowning at him, her eyebrows weren’t plucked, and she wasn’t wearing a single scrap of jewellery. No one in the world would have described her as fussy. And yet there was something rather intriguing about her…
‘We are not together,’ Cassie reiterated. The thought was utterly preposterous.
‘Reese says she and Mason aren’t coming back tonight,’ Gina announced as she terminated the phone call, interrupting the conversation.
‘Right, then,’ Ada said. ‘Looks like we have a show to be getting on with. Samuel, go and tell that dreadful DJ to announce dinner. I’ll get the wait staff to start serving.’
The three of them watched her sweep away. ‘Wow,’ Gina said. ‘She’s scary.’
Tuck grinned. ‘Hell, yeah. Excuse me, Gina, Cassiopeia.’ He dropped his voice an octave, then bowed at her slightly, finding and holding her gaze. ‘Keep my seat warm, darlin’, I won’t be long.’
Cassie gaped as his cosmic blue eyes pierced her to the spot and his voice washed over her in tidal wave of heat.
Gina’s low throaty laughter barely registered.
Two hours later Cassie was strung so tight every muscle was screaming at her. Tuck was holding court at the table, charming all and sundry.
Big, warm-blooded, male and there.
A giant sex gland, emitting a chemical compound her body was, apparently, biologically programmed to crave.
Him. A jock. Why him?
Every time their arms brushed or his thigh pressed briefly along hers her pulse spiked, her hands shook a little. And when he laughed in that whole body way of his, which he did frequently, throwing his head back, baring the heavy thud of his jugular to her gaze, her nostrils flared and filled with the thick, luscious scent of him.
An insistent voice whispered through her head, pounded through her blood. Smell him. Lick him. Touch him. With every tick of the clock, every beat of her heart, it grew louder.
It was insane. Madness.
This sort of thing didn’t happen to her. Hormones. Primal imperatives. She was above bodily urges. Her head always—always—ruled her body.
But here she was, just like the rest of the human race, at the mercy of biology.
It just didn’t compute.
The man was as dumb as a rock. He’d thought they were talking about food when she’d mentioned Pi. He’d called a truly amazing piece of equipment unlocking the secrets of the universe the Hobble telescope. He didn’t even know the Vice-President of his own country.
He was a Neanderthal.
But still every nerve in her body twitched in a state of complete excitement.
Cassie desperately tried to recall the aurora research waiting in her room—the research she’d been looking forward to getting back to at the end of the night. When was the last time she’d gone two hours without thinking about it? She’d been working on the project for five years. She ate, slept, breathed it.
And for two whole hours it had been the furthest thing from her mind.
Marnie laughed at something Tuck said, dragging Cassie’s attention back to the big blond caveman by her side. She checked her watch—was it too early to leave? She wasn’t used to feeling this out of her depth. Sure, social situations weren’t her forte but this was plain torture. If she could get back to her room and the comfort of the familiar Tuck and the awful persistent thrum in her blood would surely fade to black.
She glanced up at Gina, who shook her head and mouthed, ‘Don’t even think of it.’
Cassie sighed, resigned to her fate, as the raunchy strains of Sweet Home Alabama blasted around them. Marnie whooped and leapt up to dance along with a few others from the table.
Tuck looked across at Gina and winked. He stood and looked down at the woman who had sat beside him for two hours as if she was afraid his particular brand of stupid was contagious. Didn’t she know he was God’s gift to women?
He grinned as he held out his hand towards her. ‘What do you say, Cassiopeia? Fancy a dance?’
Cassie stared at his hand. It was big, and she swore she could see waves of whatever the hell he was emitting undulating seductively from his palm. ‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t dance.’
Tuck hadn’t got to where he was today by giving up at the first hurdle. He kept his hand where it was. ‘It’s not hard, darlin’,’ he murmured. ‘Just hang on and follow my lead.’
Cassie swallowed. That was what she was afraid of. She had a very bad feeling she’d follow that intoxicating scent anywhere. She shook her head again and looked at him. A bad move as his cosmic gaze sucked her in closer to his orbit.
‘I’m a terrible dancer,’ she said. She dragged her gaze from him. ‘Isn’t that right, Gina?’
Gina nodded. Cassie had no rhythm at all. ‘She speaks the truth. But…’ She looked at Tuck, then at Cassie. Her Antipodean friend looked as if she’d rather face a firing squad then dance with Tuck. Interesting. She’d never seen Cassie so ruffled and, bet or no bet, she wanted to see where this went.
‘I think every woman should dance with a star quarterback once in her life,’ Gina said.
Tuck raised an eyebrow at her as Gina conceded the bet to him.
‘Ex,’ Cassie said. And when Gina looked at her enquiringly she clarified, ‘He’s an ex…quarterback.’
Gina drummed her fingers on the table. ‘You know, it is customary at weddings for the bridesmaids to dance with the groomsmen,’ she pointed out.
Gina had taken it upon herself to be Cassie’s social guru during the year they’d roomed together, and Cassie had learned a lot about social mores that no textbook could ever have taught her. But she was big on survival instincts, and Cassie was pretty sure staying away from Tuck was the smart thing to do.
And she was very smart.
Even if she was rapidly dropping IQ points every time she looked at him.
‘But this is the wedding-that-wasn’t,’ she pointed out, striving for the brisk logic she was known for. ‘We are the bridal-party-that-wasn’t. Surely that cancels out societal expectations?’
Tuck waggled the fingers of his still outstretched hand at her. ‘I think it’s important to keep up appearances, though,’ he said. ‘These Park Avenue types are big on that.’
Cassie looked away from the lure of those fingers at Gina, who nodded at her and said, ‘He’s right. You wouldn’t want to embarrass Reese, would you? It’s okay,’ she assured her. ‘Tuck looks like he knows what he’s doing.’
Tuck grinned, but he didn’t take his eyes off Cassie. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
Cassie glanced back at him, towering over her in all his intoxicating temptation. Maybe a dance would help. Maybe if she got the chance to sniff him a little this unnatural craving taking over her body, infecting her brain like a plague of boils, would be satisfied. That seemed logical.
Cassie slipped her hand into his.
And her cells roared to life.
TWO
By the time they got to the dance floor the last notes of Sweet Home Alabama had died out and the music had changed to a slow Righteous Brothers’ melody. All the couples that had been boogying energetically melted into each other and the singles left the floor. Cassie turned to go as well, but Tuck grabbed her hand and pulled her in close, grinning at her.
‘Where are you going, darlin’?’
Cassie’s breath felt like thick fog in her throat. ‘I…can’t waltz.’
She found it hard enough co-ordinating her hands and feet with some space between her and her dancing partners. She was going to do some damage to his feet for sure.
And she did not trust herself too close to him.
‘Sure you can. Just hold on,’ he said, taking her resisting hands and placing them on his pecs, ‘and shuffle your feet a little. There ain’t no dance police here tonight.’
Cassie didn’t hear his crack about dance police. Her palms were filled with hard firm muscle as the fabric seemed to melt away. The music melted away too—as did the people crowding around them.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the sight of her hands on his chest.
Tuck smiled to himself. ‘There you go—see.’ He took a step closer, his chin brushing the top of her head. He slipped his hands lightly onto her waist. There was definite curve there and he snuggled his palm into it. ‘I don’t bite.’
Cassie fought through the fog, dragging her eyes away from how small her hands looked in comparison to his broadness. She looked up. Way up. He was tall. And close. A hand-width away, she guessed.
Before tonight she would have been able to assess the distance accurately, but she simply couldn’t think straight at the moment. He was radiating heat and energy and those damn pheromones, totally scrambling her usual focus. His hands at her waist were burning a tract right down to her middle.
He smiled at her, his starburst eyes showering their effervescence all over her. She looked down, but that was a mistake also as his chest filled her vision, the knot of his tie swaying hypnotically in front of her with every movement of his body. And all the time an insistent whisper played in her head, swarmed through her blood in time with the swing of him.
Smell him, lick him, touch him.
She dragged her gaze upwards, desperate to stop the pull of the hypnotic rhythm. It snagged on the slow, steady bound of his carotid, his growth of whiskers not able to conceal the thick thud of it. She wondered what he’d smell like there. What he’d taste like.
Her nostrils flared. Her breath grew thick. She dug her fingers into the flat of his chest as she battled the urge to take a step closer.
Dear God, she was growing dumber by the second.
Shocked and dazed, she dragged her gaze down. Way down. Down to their feet. Down to the hole she wished would open up.
Tuck also looked down, frowning at how rigid she felt in his arms. As if she was going to shatter at any moment. Or going to bolt at any second. No woman had ever been so reluctant to be in his company. Or so keen to be away from it.
She could give a man a complex.
One thing was for sure. She needed to relax or she was going to have a seizure. ‘So…Cassiopeia? That’s not a name you hear every day. Is that a family tradition?’
Cassie looked up. His eyes flashed at her and she lost her breath for a moment. Were they closer? He seemed nearer. More potent. His chest was closer.
‘Cassie?’
She blinked. What? Oh, yes. Talking. That was good. She was good at talking. Usually…
‘My mum…she named me. After the constellation.’ She paused. Did he even know what that was? ‘That’s a group of stars,’ she clarified.
Tuck chuckled. This woman was going to give him a complex. Who’d have thought he’d be interested in such a little snob? The endearing thing was she seemed oblivious to it all. ‘Like the Zodiac?’ he enquired, purposefully broadening his accent again.
Cassie gaped at him. How could she possibly want to lick the neck of a man with a pea-sized intellect?
There was just no accounting for biology.
‘No, not like the Zodiac.’
He feigned a frown. ‘Ain’t you into astrology?’
‘Astronomy,’ she said, gritting her teeth. ‘A-stron-omy.’
‘So, that’s not like…Sagittarius and stuff?’
‘No,’ she said primly. ‘It’s the study of celestial objects. It’s science. Not voodoo.’
Tuck laughed again. He liked it when she got all passionate and fired up. There was a spark in those blue-grey eyes, a glitter. Would they get like that when she was all passionate and fired up in bed?
Suddenly it seemed like something he wouldn’t mind knowing.
The song ended and the pace picked up a little. A couple behind them bumped into Cassie and she stumbled and stood on his foot. ‘Oh, God, sorry,’ she gasped, pulling away as her front collided with his.
His broad, muscular front.
‘Hey, there, it’s okay,’ Tuck said, steadying her under her elbows, holding on as she tried to pull away, keeping her close. Their bodies were almost—but not quite—touching. ‘No harm done,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Why don’t you just lay your head here on my chest and stay awhile longer?’
She should tell him to go to hell. But her nostrils flared again as something primal inside her recognised him as male. And he smelled so damn good.
A whisper ran through her head. Do it.
Lay your head down. Shut your eyes. Press your nose into his chest.
Cassie fought against the powerful urge as long as she could but she was losing fast. Each sway of his body bathed her in his eau-du-male scent and before she knew it her cheek had brushed against the fabric of his jacket and was angled slightly, her nose pressed into his lapel.
She inhaled. Deep and long. Every cell was filled with him. Every tastebud went into rapture. Every brain synapse went into a frenzy.
It was so damn good she never wanted to exhale.
It was only the dizzying approach of hypoxia that forced her hand. She quickly breathed out, then took in another huge greedy gulp of him. His scent seduced her senses, stroked along her belly, unfurled through her bloodstream.
She pressed herself a little closer and her eyes rolled back in her head as his heat flooded all round her.
Tuck was surprised when Cassie’s body moved flush against his after her standoffishness. But he liked the way she fitted, her body moulding against his, her head tucked in under his chin nicely. And she let him lead, which was a novelty. Most women he danced with weren’t so passive in his arms.
They danced all flirty and dirty and sexy.
Not that Tuck had anything against flirty, dirty or sexy. He was all for them. But too often it felt like an act. As if the women he dated felt they had to gyrate and shimmy and generally carry on like a B-grade porn star to attract or keep his attention.
Okay, he’d never had a reputation for longevity—his two-year marriage was a sure sign of that—but he was, at his most basic, a guy. And just being female was enough to keep his attention.
Ever since his divorce he’d gone back to his partying ways—living the dream, a different woman every night—the ultimate male fantasy. But he’d forgotten how good this felt, how nice it was to slow-dance, to hold a woman and enjoy the feeling of her all relaxed against him.
Even if she did think he was dumb as a rock.
‘I think you’ve got this dancing thing down pat, darlin’,’ he murmured against her hair.
Cassie just heard him through the trancelike state she’d entered. Each breath she drew in fogged her head a little more, stroking along nerve-endings and leadening her bones. She was pretty sure she was drooling on his jacket.
But he had her in his thrall.
His hands felt big and male on her hips, and hot—very hot. She was aware of every part of her body. It was alive with the scent of him.
His chin rubbed the top of her head and she glanced up. Her gaze fell on the heavy thud of his carotid again, pulsing just above his collar beside the hard ridge of his trachea. Her mouth watered a little more and Cassie sucked in a breath.
‘Well, hey, y’all!’
Cassie dragged herself back from the impulse to push her nose into Tuck’s neck, grateful for Marnie’s interruption. She looked at her friend, who was dancing with a preppy-looking guy, still a little dazed.
‘It’s getting hot in here,’ Marnie said, then winked as her partner danced her away.
Cassie blinked at her retreating back and then glanced at Tuck, who was looking intently at her with his intense extra-terrestrial gaze.
What was she thinking?
She searched her brain for an answer. How great he smelled. How great he might taste. But more than that. She’d been thinking how small and feminine she felt tucked in under his chin, his hands shaping her hips.
How female.
She blinked, shocked by her thoughts. Since when had she cared about that? But her gaze was filled with his perfect symmetrical features and it all became fuzzy again. Why couldn’t he have a prominent forehead and squinty eyes and a crooked nose? He was a footballer, for crying out loud, didn’t they break noses regularly?
Why didn’t she feel like this about Len, her fellow researcher-cum-occasional-lover? She’d never once had to quell the urge to sniff him. They worked together every day, occasionally accompanied each other to university functions, and every once in a while he got antsy and irritable and they had sex, so he could concentrate on what was really important—astronomy.
She’d never slow-danced with Len. Nor did she want to.
She’d never wanted to crawl inside his skin.
It was a scary thought, and Cassie tried to pull away as another slow song started up, but Tuck held her fast and her damn body capitulated readily. Too readily. It was obvious biology was going to win out over intellect and logic tonight and that just wasn’t acceptable.
She needed to defuse the situation, to distract herself from the dizzying power of him.
‘So,’ she said, reaching for a safe, easy topic of conversation, ‘Tuck isn’t your real name?’
It was hardly Mensa level, and they weren’t about to unlock the secrets of dark matter, but at least it would give her back some control.
Mind over body.
And he looked like a guy who liked to talk about himself.
‘No.’ Tuck shook his head. ‘My Christian name is Samuel. Samuel Tucker. But no one calls me that. Except my mother.’
Even his wife had called him Tuck.
‘And Great-Aunt Ada,’ Cassie reminded him.
Tuck smiled. ‘And Great-Aunt Ada.’
Cassie frowned. ‘Why not be called by the name you were given?’
Tuck shrugged. ‘It’s a nickname.’ He looked down into her genuinely perplexed face. ‘Don’t they have nicknames in Australia? You’re called Cassie instead of Cassiopeia.’
Cassie shook her head. ‘No. Cassie is an abbreviation of my Christian name, not a nickname. If that were the case for you, you’d be known as Sam.’
Tuck waited for her to spell abbreviation for his poor addled brain. If she hadn’t felt a hundred kinds of right, all smooshed up and slow dancing against him, he’d be getting kind of ticked off by her attitude towards his mental prowess.
Instead he was prepared to humour her.
‘Except Tuck sounds cooler.’
Cassie frowned. ‘Cooler? Who says?’
Tuck liked the way her brows drew together, showcasing her grey-blue eyes to perfection. ‘Tens of thousands of football fans, screaming my name across every state in this great land for a decade.’
Not to mention quite a few more of the female variety also screaming it out loud in hotel beds across every state for just as long.
‘Oh.’ Cassie thought about it for a moment, but she’d never understood the dynamics of hero-worship regarding something as frivolous as sport. ‘Sorry, I don’t get that.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s a guy thing.’
Cassie suspected it was probably a jock thing, but she tucked it away anyway to ask Len about when they next spoke.
Thankfully the song ended and, feeling more in control of her recalcitrant hormones, she took the opportunity to step firmly away from him. ‘I’m done now,’ she said, and was proud of how strong her voice sounded when her body was howling to be nearer to him.
Tuck smiled and bowed slightly, ever the gentleman, as he gestured for her to precede him. It didn’t stop him from perving on her ass the whole way back to the table, though.
Almost two hours later everyone had left and Marnie, Gina and Cassie, under the direction of Great-Aunt Ada, had seen all the guests off and organised the removal of the gifts that had been left despite Reese insisting that no one bring any.
Tuck and his pheromones had also insisted on helping.
Cassie was getting twitchy. She had a paper to get back to. She didn’t have time for a big, blond ex-quarterback who’d obviously fallen out of the stupid tree. And hit every branch on the way down.
No matter how nice he smelled.
But somehow he was accompanying them back inside the grand entrance to the Bellington Estate, and then he was walking up the ornate stone staircase next to her, his arm occasionally brushing hers. When Marnie and Gina turned left at the top Cassie hoped that Tuck would do so too.
No such luck.
He smiled at her as he turned right. ‘After you,’ he said.
Cassie looked over her shoulder at Gina and Marnie, who had stopped and were looking at her with bemused expressions.
Gina waved her fingers and said, ‘Need someone to tuck you in?’
Marnie seemed to have trouble keeping a straight face and Cassie frowned at her.
‘I think she’s got that covered,’ Marnie said. ‘Night, Cassie. Night, Tuck. Sweet dreams.’
Cassie glanced at Tuck, who was also smiling.
‘Good night, ladies. See you in the morning.’
Before Cassie could make further comment her ‘friends’ had turned away and she was watching their backs retreat. She hoped that Marnie and Gina would use the time to talk, because it had been awkward between them at the table tonight. Although if the distance between them as they walked was anything to go by it didn’t look like they were ready to bury the hatchet just yet.
She looked at Tuck, and even though he was a good two metres away his aroma wafted her way and she instantly forgot about the animosity between her friends. Her belly tightened and then looped the loop.
‘What’s your room number? I’ll see you to your door.’
The last thing Cassie wanted was to have Tuck anywhere near her room. In fact she’d be perfectly happy never to be anywhere near him again. She was unsettled. Confused.
She was never unsettled. Never confused. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
‘I don’t need you to accompany me to my room,’ she said, taking care as she passed him to keep her distance.
Tuck watched the swing of her ass again for a moment or two, then called after her, ‘My momma would tan my hide if I didn’t see my date to her door.’
Cassie stopped mid-stride and turned to face him. ‘I am not your date.’
‘You sure danced like I was your date.’
Heat flooded her cheeks as she remembered how she’d clung and buried her nose in his clothes, as if he was her own personal scratch-and-sniff jock. Cassiopeia Barclay did not blush—ever! Curious at the strange phenomenon, she brought her palms up to cradle her face.
She cleared her throat. ‘It was…crowded,’ she said defensively, dropping her hands and folding her arms primly.
Tuck’s gaze dropped. Her folded arms had pushed her breasts up and together, exposing a nice curve of bare flesh at the criss-cross front of her dress for his viewing pleasure. Tuck had seen a lot bigger. He’d also seen smaller. Cassie’s looked just about right to him. A perky B cup, he’d hazard a guess.
Tuck grinned. ‘Come on, darlin’, it’s late. Let’s get you to bed.’
Cassie shoved her hands on her hips, determined not to let an image of him sprawled in her big hotel bed derail her thoughts. ‘Don’t call me darlin’.’ She mimicked his slow, easy Southern drawl to perfection. ‘And I’m perfectly capable of finding my way to my room. I can count.’
Tuck’s grin broadened. ‘Well, maybe you can help me find my room?’ He scratched his head in the most perplexed manner he could muster. ‘There’s a lot of wings in this place and it does get kind of confusin’ after a hundred, don’t it?’
Cassie rolled her eyes. The man was living proof that evolution could go in reverse. ‘How on earth do you count all those millions that kicking a stupid ball around earned you?’
Tuck shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Got me some bean-counters for that.’
Cassie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was going to be one of those has-been sports stars whose money was all gone in a matter of years because he had a little too much yardage between the goalposts to keep track of it himself. And he trusted too easily.
‘Follow me,’ she said huffily as she headed down the long grand hallway.
Tuck’s gaze ran over the contours of her back and settled on how her dress swung and fluttered with each movement. ‘Your wish is my command,’ he murmured under his breath.
Tuck deliberately took his time, stopping to examine old paintings hanging on the stonework, suits of armour and the antique vases that dotted the magnificent corridor. He kept up a running commentary for Cassie’s sake, purely because it seemed to annoy her.
‘Will you hurry up?’ she said impatiently, looking over her shoulder for the tenth time as he stopped to read the name of the artist of a particularly austere portrait. ‘I have a paper to get to.’
Tuck looked up. ‘You brought work?’ He shook his head at her and tsked as he meandered closer. ‘All work and no play makes Cassiopeia a dull girl.’
Cassie glared at him as they got underway again. ‘Not that I expect you to understand this, but there is nothing dull about auroras on Jupiter.’
‘Auroras?’
‘Yes—you know, like the Aurora Borealis?’ His blank look didn’t seem promising. ‘The Northern Lights?’ she clarified.
Tuck had witnessed the Aurora Borealis in Scandinavia on two separate occasions, but he wasn’t about to disappoint Cassie’s assumptions. ‘Isn’t she some mermaid?’
Cassie sighed. There really was no grain in his silo. He was an empty vessel. ‘No. It’s a real thing. It’s why I’m here. I’m completing my PhD studies at Cornell so next year I can go on a research trip to Antarctica. And Aurora was Sleeping Beauty. Ariel was the Little Mermaid.’
Tuck shrugged. ‘Well, it sounds like a mermaid if you ask me.’ And then he shot her his best goofy grin for good measure.
Thankfully her room approached, and Cassie all but leapt at the ornate doorknob. ‘This is me,’ she said. ‘What did you say your room number was again?’
She’d barely been able to concentrate on anything he’d said. When he wasn’t wandering off like a distracted child or lagging behind to look at things he was right there beside her, weaving his heady scent all around her.
Like he was now.
Tuck smiled. ‘Three hundred and twenty three,’ he said, and watched the fact that he would be sleeping directly opposite her dawn slowly on her face. ‘Howdy, neighbour.’
‘Oh.’ Cassie looked at the door opposite. Too close for comfort. Her highly developed sense of fight or flight kicked in as another dose of his masculinity wafted over her.
‘Right, then,’ she said, fishing in Gina’s glittery clutch purse for her room key and locating it with shaking hands.
The adrenaline. It had to be the adrenaline.
‘Goodnight,’ she said, barely looking at him as she turned away and reached for the door handle, hastily swiping the plastic card through the electronic strip.
The light turned red and she swiped it again, her hands even shakier. Another red light elicited a frustrated little growl from the back of her throat. She needed to get inside her room. Inside was work and logic and focus and sanity.
Out here with Tuck’s quiet presence behind her was insanity. And damnation.
She could feel it pulling at her body with sticky tentacles, drugging her with its perfume, wrapping her up in its heady thrall.
She swiped one more time. Red light.
‘Allow me.’
Cassie’s fingers stilled as Tuck’s hand slid over them. His body moved in behind hers and she was instantly cocooned in his intoxicating aroma. She shut her eyes as her nipples responded to the blatant cue. She could feel his breath in her hair, the warm press of his chest against her back, the power of his thighs behind hers.
She leant her forehead against the door, desperately reaching for logic. ‘I spend all day probing the outer depths of our solar system through a massive telescope,’ she said. ‘I’m pretty sure I can open a damn door.’
‘Shh,’ Tuck said, easing the key out of her unresisting fingers. ‘Some things don’t need big brains,’ he murmured. He took the plastic. ‘Some things need a slow hand…an easy touch.’
He slid the card through the strip with deliberate slowness. The lock whirred, the light turned green and he smiled as he turned the handle and pushed the door open a fraction.
‘Easy.’
Cassie practically whimpered at the low, deep sound of his Southern accent. It weaved around her like the melodic notes of a snake charmer, trapping her. The door was right there. It was open. All she needed to do was move. But she couldn’t.
‘Cassie?’
Tuck could feel her trembling and a surge of desire crested in his belly. His groin tightened. His blood slowed to a thick, primal bound. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and, to his surprise, she turned. Only a whisper separated them as heat flashed like a solar flare between them.
Her eyes looked all misty and dazed, her pupils large in the grey-blue depths. They seemed to shimmer up at him and he fell headlong into them. Her mouth was slightly parted and it drew his gaze. He picked up a long dark ringlet draped forward over her shoulder and wound it around his finger. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re quite beautiful?’
Cassie’s throat was dry as a sandpit as she shut her eyes against the seduction in his. No one had ever told her that. And she’d never cared. ‘I’ve never aspired to be beautiful,’ she dismissed. She was more comfortable with brainy.
He waited for her lashes to flutter open again before saying, ‘Well, you’ve failed.’
Tuck only intended to give her the briefest of kisses as he slid his palm onto her cheek. Just a little taste of her mouth. The mouth that had dissed him all night. Just to show her how pretty damn clever he could be.
And to leave her wanting more.
But the second his mouth touched hers and she opened to him as if he was water and she was dying of thirst it all went flying out of the window.
Cassie mewed as his lips brushed hers and her senses filled up with him. There was no thought or logic or analysis in play any longer as she overdosed on his intoxicating scent, sucking him in, drenching her cells in his pheromones. Her body had completely taken over and left her brain out of the equation.
She raised herself up on tiptoes. Her hands slid around his neck. Her mouth parted of its own accord. She moaned and dragged him closer as hot, scalding lust lashed her insides and flayed her flesh with the driving need for more.
It didn’t make any sense. Not when she swiped her tongue across his lips, or pushed it inside, or stroked it against his. Not when she moaned. Not when she gasped. Not when she grabbed his lapels to press herself closer.
She’d never been kissed like this.
She’d never kissed like this.
And still she was full of him. Her head buzzed with the essence of him. Her mouth was on fire. Her belly was tight. The heat between her legs tingled and burned.
Tuck barely managed to hold onto her as Cassie kissed him as if she was an evil genius intent on wicked things and he was her latest experiment. He might not be dumb as a rock but he was certainly as hard as one now as her deep, sexy kisses, body-squirming and desperate little whimpers stroked all his hot spots.
She even kissed differently from other women. No mouth gymnastics, no hands down his pants in seconds, no theatrical panting, no Oh, baby, baby. Just a scorching one hundred percent, full-throttle touchdown of a kiss. Her lips on his lips. Open and going for it.
He pushed her hard against the door, wanting to get closer, to kiss her deeper. But he’d forgotten it was already slightly open and she stumbled backwards. Their mouths tore apart.
He grabbed for her, finding her elbow, dropping it once she’d stabilised. And then they stood staring at each other, breathing hard, not moving for a moment, neither sure which way to jump.
Tuck knew enough about women to know that look in Cassie’s eyes. He knew he could pick her up, stride into her room and lay her on the bed and she’d follow wherever he took her. And enjoy every single second of it.
But he saw a whole bunch of other stuff in her eyes too. Most of it he couldn’t decipher. But he could see her confusion quite clearly. Obviously that kiss just did not compute for Cassie.
She looked as if she needed some time to wrap her head around it. Hell, he sure as hell did!
‘Are you okay?’
Cassie nodded automatically but she doubted she’d ever be okay again. What the hell had just happened? She felt as if she’d just had a lobotomy. Could a kiss render you stupid?
‘I think I should go now. Unless…’ He dropped his gaze to her swollen mouth.
Cassie shook her head and took a step back. No ‘unless’. Go, yes. Just go. He’d turned her into a dunce.
Tuck smiled at her dazed look. It was nice to have left an impression on Little-Miss-Know-It-All, even if he was going to go to bed with a hard-on the size of Texas. ‘Goodnight, Cassiopeia.’
Cassie was incapable of answering him. She feared she’d been struck mute. As well as dumb. She watched him swagger to his room opposite, slot his key in, open his door. He turned as he stepped into his room.
‘I’ll be right over here. If you need a cup of shhu-gar.’
Cassie had no pithy comeback as his door clicked quietly shut.
THREE
After tossing and turning for most of the night—not something that was good for her sanity—Cassie woke at nine a.m. and the first thing she thought about was Tuck. She dragged a pillow over her head and bellowed a loud, furious denial.
She always woke at six. And most certainly never thought about a man.
Cassie’s brain was engaged the moment her eyes flicked open after her regulation eight hours’ sleep. For the last several years her waking thoughts had centred on her aurora research and she’d spring out of bed and head straight for her computer.
This morning her head was full of Tuck and the kiss.
Her computer, the research, her will to live—all lost in a sea of oestrogen.
She yanked the pillow off her head and turned on her side. Her baggy T-shirt was twisted around her torso and the movement pulled it taut against her breasts. Her nipples responded to the brush of fabric, her belly clamped, and a red-hot tingle took up residence at the juncture of her thighs.
Cassie dragged some deep breaths in and out, trying to conjure up the latest deep-space images she’d seen yesterday. But it was no use—she could still smell him in her nostrils and taste him on her mouth.
The phone rang and she snatched it up immediately, grateful for something else to do, to think about.
‘Hello?’
‘Cassie, get off that computer and get your heiny down here now,’ Marnie demanded. ‘Reese is back and we’re having breakfast.’
Her friend’s Southern accent reminded her of Tuck’s lazy Texan drawl and Cassie almost groaned out loud. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’
Anything—anything—to take her mind off the annoying jock.
Cassie entered the grand dining room exactly ten minutes later, completely oblivious to the eyebrows her rather informal attire was raising. She’d thrown on a pair of loose leggings and a baggy T-shirt with a slogan that said ‘Back in my day we had nine planets’—one of the many geek-themed shirts Gina, Marnie and Reese had sent her over the years.
She hadn’t even bothered to brush her hair—just pulled it back into her regulation low ponytail, with her regulation floral scrunchie, and pushed one of her many-toothed Alice bands into it, ensuring it stayed scraped back off her forehead. There really was nothing more annoying than hair getting in the way when she was in the middle of something.
Actually, there was now. And its name was Tuck.
Unlike the rest of the people in the dining room, dressed in their country club pasteles, her friends didn’t bat an eyelid as Cassie scurried their way, then plonked herself in one of the three empty seats at the round table. They’d have been shocked had Cassie dressed in any other way.
Cassie forced a smile to her face as she looked at a glowing Reese, radiating the same kind of happiness she had a decade ago when she and her Marine had first met. ‘When did you get back? Where’s Mason?’
‘An hour ago.’ Reese grinned, sipping at some coffee. ‘He’s taking care of some business.’
Cassie barely registered Reese’s reply but nodded anyway. A waiter interrupted and Cassie, ignoring the piles of pancakes the others were tucking into, ordered the same thing she had every morning for breakfast—yoghurt and muesli and two slices of grain toast with Vegemite. When he informed her they didn’t have Vegemite she ordered jam.
‘You okay?’ Reese frowned. ‘You look kind of tired.’
‘I didn’t sleep very well,’ Cassie said.
Marnie looked at Gina, and Gina narrowed her eyes at Cassie. ‘Since when doesn’t Little-Miss-Eight-Hours not sleep well?’
Cassie looked at her friends all watching her with curiosity. She shrugged. She didn’t know what to tell them because she’d never not slept well.
Gina lounged back in her chair, her arms crossed, her fingers tapping against her arms. ‘This hasn’t got anything to do with a certain quarterback, has it?’
Marnie sat forward, her blonde hair neat as a pin in a high ponytail that was one hundred percent more cute and perky than Cassie’s. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’
Reese frowned at both her friends. ‘Tuck?’
‘Tuck and Cassie danced last night,’ Gina said.
‘Real close,’ Marnie added.
Reese blinked at her. ‘Cassie?’
Cassie had decided on her way down to the dining room that she wasn’t going to tell a soul about the strange feelings coursing through her body, but she felt herself sag under the scrutiny of three sets of eyes. She’d always been a great believer in solving problems by seeking out experts in the field. And, having lived with these three women and been through all their relationship ups and downs, she had to admit she had a panel of experts in front of her.
What better people to confide in?
‘I don’t know what’s happening,’ she murmured. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night. I always sleep. I need to sleep. It’s vitally important that I do. I take specific medication to switch off my brain so I can sleep. And it never fails. I’m out like a light. Usually… And this morning I didn’t wake until nine… I’m always up at six. Always.’
‘Well, you were tired,’ Marnie reasoned.
‘And do you know what my first waking thought was about?’ Cassie continued, ignoring Marnie.
‘I’m guessing it was about something a little closer to the earth than usual?’ Gina said.
Cassie sighed in disgust. ‘It was him. The jock.’ She looked at her friends for answers. ‘I don’t understand what’s happening to me.’
Her friends didn’t say anything for a moment, as if they were waiting for her to say more or to clarify something. Then, one by one, the three women opposite her broke into broad grins.
She frowned. ‘What?’
Her friends had the audacity to laugh then, looking at each other as they cracked up. Cassie glared at them. ‘This is not funny.’
‘No, of course not,’ Reese soothed as she struggled to regain her composure. ‘Falling in love is never funny.’
Cassie gaped at Reese. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she spluttered.
‘Aww…’ Marnie purred, ignoring Cassie’s protest. ‘Our little girl is all grown up now,’ she teased.
‘And to think,’ Reese continued, ‘we voted you the girl least likely to ever fall for a man.’
Cassie crossed her arms across her chest and waited for their frivolity to wane. She would not entertain such unscientific mumbo-jumbo. Love was a fiction perpetuated by romance novels and Hollywood.
‘It’s not love,’ she said frostily when the last smile had fallen beneath her uncompromising glare. ‘Just because you’re seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses, Reese, does not mean I’ve taken leave of my senses. You know I don’t believe in that voodoo. It’s his pheromones—that’s all. The man smells incredible…’
Cassie could still smell him on her, and she shut her eyes for a moment to savour it.
‘It was dizzying,’ she said, eyes still closed. ‘Truly sensational. Like it was all I could do to stop myself sniffing and sniffing and sniffing him all night.’
Cassie’s eyelids fluttered open and she found her friends staring at her with varying degrees of perplexity. She cleared her throat and straightened in her chair. ‘Anyway…it’s obviously a scent I’m biologically programmed to respond to. It’s just…biochemistry. Nothing more.’
The waiter arrived and conversation stopped as he placed Cassie’s breakfast in front of her. When he left Cassie looked at Gina. ‘Surely there’s a lay word for that other than love? When your body overrules your brain?’
Gina nodded. ‘Yep. We call it horny.’
Cassie shook her head. ‘No.’ She was a scientist. She refused to be horny.
Gina nodded again. ‘Totally gagging for it.’
Cassie wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but it sounded like something they’d say in the locker room on an American cop show. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘Libido?’ Reese supplied.
Cassie paused. She liked that word best. It was backed up by science—the non-Freudian kind. It could be proved—the area of the brain responsible for libido had been studied extensively.
‘Yes,’ Gina agreed. ‘It’s your libido knocking.’
‘Okay, I can buy that,’ Cassie conceded. ‘But my libido has never been an issue before, so why is it knocking now?’
‘Well, that’s easy,’ Gina said. ‘When was the last time you had sex?’
Cassie thought about it for a moment. It had been Len’s birthday request. ‘Seven months ago.’
Gina blinked. ‘Seven months?’ She looked at Reese and Marnie, who were also staring at Cassie’s admission. ‘Well, in that case it’s definitely your libido.’
‘Who’s the guy?’ Marnie asked.
‘His name is Len. He’s another astronomer at the university. We’ve been working on the same project for the last five years. We have a regular hook-up.’
‘Every seven months?’ Gina interjected.
‘It varies,’ Cassie said, oblivious to the palpable incredulity around the table. ‘Usually whenever he starts to get cranky. I’ve found that it improves his focus.’
‘Okay…’ Gina said, shaking her head. ‘So this last time—was it…you know…good?’
Cassie shrugged. Personally she’d never got the big deal about sex. ‘It was satisfactory.’
Gina looked at Reese for back-up. ‘I think what Gina means,’ Reese continued, ‘is did you…you know…’ she lowered her voice ‘…orgasm?’
‘Oh, no,’ Cassie said, unfazed by the conversation. When they’d all lived together Cassie had been privy to many girly chats about all kinds of sex-related issues. She’d learned a great deal of stuff in that house that a bunch of lectures and books had never taught her. ‘I’ve never had an orgasm.’
Had Cassie been one to find humour in awkward situations she would have found the total disbelief on her friends’ faces completely hilarious. They’d all stopped eating and were staring at her.
‘What…never?’ Marnie asked after a stunned silence.
Cassie shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Not even…by yourself?’ Reese asked.
‘Or with a vibrator?’ added Gina, last to recover.
Cassie looked from one to the other. ‘I’ve never masturbated and I don’t own, nor have I ever, a vibrator.’
More silence followed, finally broken by Gina’s, ‘Well, that’s just unnatural. Going without sex is one thing, but there is no excuse for not indulging in a little self-love, Cassiopeia. It’s perfectly healthy. Normal, actually. Didn’t I teach you anything?’
Cassie put down her spoon. ‘No, it’s fine. Some people don’t need sex.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m one of them.’
‘It’s not fine,’ Reese interjected. ‘I don’t know who this Len is that you’ve been having sex with…very, very infrequently…but he’s definitely doing it all wrong.’
‘No, it’s not his fault.’
‘Oh, I think it is,’ Marnie said.
‘No, really.’ Cassie looked at her friends’ concerned faces. ‘The medication I take to sleep…one of its side-effects is libido suppression and difficulty achieving orgasm.’
Gina shuddered. ‘I think I’d rather stay awake for the rest of my life.’ She looked at Cassie. ‘Are you sure you need it?’
Cassie nodded. ‘Without it my brain doesn’t switch off and I can’t sleep. And that’s extremely detrimental to my health. I start to get a little OCD without sleep. And one stay in the psych ward as a teenager was more than enough.’ Cassie vividly remembered the chaos her mind had descended into—how she’d quickly spiralled out of control. ‘Trust me, that’s an experience I never want to repeat.’
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Amy Andrews
Talk nerdy to me…Samuel Tucker is absolutely the last person scientist Cassie Barclay would ever date. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but he’s also far too cocky for his own good and thinks that pi is a tasty afternoon treat. So when he asks her to dance at her friend Reese’s non-wedding she’s wondering why on earth she says yes!Tuck is used to people assuming he’s all brawn and no brain, and amuses himself by winding Cassie up. But when he finally takes her to bed, suddenly it’s Tuck who can show Cassie a thing or two!Can he convince her that love and sex have nothing to do with logic and everything to do with chemistry?
Talk nerdy to me
Samuel Tucker is absolutely the last person scientist Cassie Barclay would ever date. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but he’s also far too cocky for his own good and thinks that Pi is a tasty afternoon treat. So when he asks her to dance at her friend Reese’s non-wedding she’s wondering why on earth she says yes!
Tuck is used to people assuming he’s all brawn and no brain, and amuses himself by winding Cassie up. But when he finally takes her to bed, suddenly it’s Tuck who can show Cassie a thing or two! Can he convince her that love and sex have nothing to do with logic and everything to do with chemistry?
‘Are you okay?’
Cassie nodded automatically, but she doubted she’d ever be okay again. She felt like she’d just had a lobotomy. Could a kiss render you stupid?
‘I think I should go now. Unless…’ He dropped his gaze to her swollen mouth.
Cassie shook her head and took a step back. No unless. Go, yes, just go. He’d turned her into a dunce.
Tuck smiled at her dazed look. It was nice to have left an impression on Little-Miss-Know-It-All. ‘Good night, Cassiopeia.’
Cassie was incapable of answering him. She feared she’d been struck mute. As well as dumb. She watched him swagger to his room opposite hers, slot his key in, open his door. He turned as he stepped into his room.
‘I’ll be right over here. If you need a cup of shhu-gar.’
Cassie had no pithy comeback as his door clicked quietly shut.
Dear Reader,
I’m so excited to be involved in my very first MODERN TEMPTED™ continuity and to have worked with three authors who are not only wonderful writers but absolutely fabulous women! Writing a set of linked stories especially when each writer is separated by vast amounts of land and/or ocean can be challenging, but I think I can speak for all of us when I say we had a lot of fun during our online brainstorming sessions. I know for me there was something beautifully symbiotic about the depth of friendship between our four fictional friends and the way our friendships deepened over the course of the continuity.
I had a great time writing Girl Least Likely to Marry, affectionately known to us and those who follow me on twitter, as the #jock and the #geekgirl. But, I have to tell you, it was much more difficult than I ever imagined. As someone used to writing heroines with emotional depth, Cassie was a true challenge because, while she had IQ to burn, her EQ was practically non-existent. It took me quite a while to get a handle on her and I think I only really managed it by getting inside the hero’s head. Tuck, in his laid-back Texan way, totally got Cassie. And getting to know him gave me a way to understand her.
I think out of all my heroes, I love Tuck the most. And that’s not just because he’s the kind of guy that belongs on a billboard advertising underwear (you know the kind, right?), but because his utterly alpha competitive spirit refused to let Cassie settle for the half-life she’d accepted as her lot.
I really hope you enjoy Cassie and Tuck’s story about two people who weren’t looking for love but found it anyway!
Love,
Amy
Girl Least Likely
to Marry
Amy Andrews
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
AMY ANDREWS has always loved writing, and still can’t quite believe that she gets to do it for a living. Creating wonderful heroines and gorgeous heroes and telling their stories is an amazing way to pass the day. Sometimes they don’t always act as she’d like them to—but then neither do her kids, so she’s kind of used to it. Amy lives in the very beautiful Samford Valley, with her husband and aforementioned children, along with six brown chickens and two black dogs.
She loves to hear from her readers. Drop her a line at www.amyandrews.com.au
This and other titles by Amy Andrews are available in eBook format—check out
www.millsandboon.co.uk
To Aimee Carson, Heidi Rice and Kimberly Lang.
Thanks for the laughs, ladies—it was an absolute pleasure. Let’s do it again sometime!
teaser
THE WEDDING SEASON
begins this month with Reese’s story in The Unexpected Wedding Guest by Aimee Carson
Don’t miss Gina’s and Marnie’s stories, out next month!
Contents
Prologue (#u98adbcac-73c3-5859-ab62-a52a798cd8b0)
Chapter One (#u81acc79c-9b85-5604-b3d6-6688a239df07)
Chapter Two (#ufec0254c-59a2-5ab8-a955-0531755e142d)
Chapter Three (#ue5ccd090-bfa6-54b9-98ff-7db06dd555cf)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE
Ten years ago, Hillbrook University campus,
upstate New York…
Cassiopeia Barclay tapped the rim of her wine glass to the other three. ‘Of course it’s not the end,’ she said, looking around at her fellow flatmates. ‘Of course it’s just the beginning. Tonight may be our last night together but not for long. We’ve got the road trip coming up soon, remember?’
The women all nodded in agreement although trust fund princess Reese looked quickly away, throwing back a hefty slug of her champagne. Gina, the Brit, followed suit, knocking her drink back with practised gusto. Southern Belle Marnie sipped regally, her good manners always on display.
Denying her Australian roots, Cassie also sipped her drink. Not because of good manners, or in deference to the expensive Dom Perignon that Reese and her Park Avenue pay cheque gave them access to—Cassie couldn’t care less if she was drinking Dom or Dr Pepper—but because everything she did was calm and measured and logical.
Why down champagne, posh or otherwise, when it only led to a hangover?
Her first ever hangover had been here in this house, with these three women, and she had no desire to repeat the experience. That was the ultimate definition of stupidity.
And Cassiopeia Barclay was far from stupid.
In fact with an IQ of one hundred and sixty-three she was officially a genius.
Their attention was returned to the nearby athletic field, in plain view of their deckchairs. The sky was starting its slow slide into evening but Hillbrook’s male track team could still easily be made out as they went through a training drill. It was a regular ritual for the ‘Awesome Foursome’, as they’d been dubbed, and Cassie joined in because these three women had been her family, accepting her social inadequacies without question, and they enjoyed it.
But, try as she might, she didn’t get the fascination with either sport or the men who played it. Most of them were no doubt here on some trumped-up scholarship and Cassie found that pretty annoying. Why was it that there was no money to support scientific research but somehow there was always cash for another track field?
Gina sighed as a particularly buff guy leaned over, touching his toes, exposing the backs of his legs, his shorts riding up to reveal a peek at one taut buttock. ‘Now, that is a well put together arse,’ she murmured, her British accent even more pronounced in this very American setting.
Marnie rolled her eyes. The blonde from the Deep South was as different from the Englishwoman as was possible. She was petite and perky, with an innocence about her that stuck out like a sore thumb next to Gina’s brash sexuality. But Cassie had seen Marnie come out of her shell over the course of the year, much like her, and a lot of that was owed to Gina and Reese’s differing but vibrant influences.
Reese smiled at Gina indulgently. She’d been doing that a lot this last week, Cassie realised belatedly. Smiling. Gina’s assertion earlier that it had something to do with a certain Marine had been confirmed by Reese’s startling confession that said Marine was the one.
Imagine that! After a week!
Sometimes Cassie felt like an alien in their midst, and it was nothing to do with her Australian accent. Even at nineteen they all seemed sophisticated women of the world next to her, introverted geek girl—Marnie included.
Reese had just dropped the bombshell that she’d fallen in love at first sight, Gina was slowly working her way through the entire eligible—and not so eligible—male population of the United States, and Marnie was sighing over her friend’s big white virginal wedding.
It was utterly perplexing, but also interesting—from a behavioural science perspective. How much more could her friends achieve if they locked up their hormones and concentrated on their chosen careers like she had? Still, these three women had opened her up to a whole world that she hadn’t been aware of before, and all new experiences were beneficial.
Back home in Australia she’d led a largely solitary existence. Either at home with her parents, shut in her room and absorbed in some research or other, or at university doing the same thing.
There’d been no girlfriends. No boyfriends. No late-night drinking or ogling track teams.
But here at Hillbrook her ‘gal pals’—yes, according to Gina they were gal pals—hadn’t taken her social awkwardness, lack of fashion sense or inept dancing as an excuse. They’d dragged her to nightclubs and frat parties, and to bars where they served cocktails by the jug and Karaoke was King. They’d loaned her dresses and shoes, done her make-up and styled her hair and, most importantly, they hadn’t taken no for an answer.
She had a lot to thank them for. She would look back on her year in the US as a social experiment, with her as the subject, from which she had collected some very useful data.
‘One day, Gina,’ Reese said, interrupting Cassie’s train of thought, ‘you are going to fall hard and fast for some guy, and I hope I’m going to be there to tell you I told you so!’
Marnie raised her glass. ‘Cheers to that,’ she said.
Gina scoffed in her very English way with a toss of her glossy dark hair. ‘To hell with that.’
The others laughed as they returned to their regularly scheduled programming—the track team. Cassie followed suit, smiling at Gina’s running commentary but perplexed by it at the same time. She was deeply thankful that jocks did nothing for her and that she was far too rational to be swayed by hormones.
Sure, as a scientist she understood that human beings were under the influence of their biological imperative to mate, but she also believed in head over heart. Certainly Gina wouldn’t be in the quandary she was now if she’d been thinking with her brain instead of her ovaries.
Sleeping with Marnie’s brother Carter last week had really rattled Gina. Cassie was generally fairly oblivious to nuances, but she’d have had to be deaf, dumb and blind to miss Gina’s edginess. Quite why Gina was edgy Cassie had no idea. What was done was done. And it wasn’t Gina who was engaged to be married, was it?
Which was exactly what she’d told Gina when she’d confessed the transgression to her last week and Gina had sworn her to secrecy.
It was at times like this that Cassie was glad she’d vowed never to fall victim to love. How could she when she simply didn’t believe in it? And, even if she did, she didn’t have time for the messy, illogical minefield of it all. Not while there was a big universe to study which was infinitely more fascinating than any man.
A shout of triumph from the track brought Cassie back into the conversation flowing around her.
‘Mmm, that’s right, my lovely blond Adonis.’ Gina’s commentary continued. ‘Give your mate a hug, then.’ The men complied, as if Gina had yanked their strings. ‘Ding-dong,’ she cooed on a happy sigh, and Marnie and Reese laughed.
Cassie watched the display of male camaraderie, rolling her eyes as they high-fived and man-hugged. They reminded her of gorillas. Next they’d be beating their chests and picking nits off each other. One thing was for sure: should she ever drop a hundred IQ points and end up with some man he would never be of the jock variety.
‘Tell us about the stars, Cassie.’
Cassie glanced over at Marnie, whose head was dropped over the back of her chair as she pointed to the first star just visible in the sky. ‘That’s Venus, right…evening star?’
Cassie smiled. Marnie was forever talking about the night skies over Savannah and had loved having her own personal astronomer at her beck and call. ‘Yep,’ she confirmed, looking at the pinprick of light in the velvet sky.
‘Will we be able to see Cassiopeia tonight?’ she asked.
Cassie shook her head. ‘It’s too light here. When we’re on our road trip we’ll stop at the Barringer Crater in Arizona. We’ll sleep under the stars and I’ll show you then.’
It was the main reason Cassie was going on the trip. Time with her gal pals would be great, but she’d always wanted to see the crater site formed when a meteorite had ploughed into the earth fifty thousand years ago, and that was her priority.
‘You speak for yourself,’ Gina butted in. ‘The only stars the Park Avenue Princess and I are sleeping under are of the five-star variety. Isn’t that right, Reese?’
Reese nodded. ‘Er…yes,’ she said, looking quickly away and taking another decent slug of her champers.
‘Carter proposed to Missy under the stars at the Grand Canyon. Isn’t that romantic?’ she said, her voice dreamy. ‘Our families were on holiday together. Missy and I stayed up all night talking about how wonderful it was.’
‘Bless their hearts,’ Gina said, mimicking Marnie’s Southern drawl.
It had taken Cassie a few months of Gina teasing Marnie over the quaint Southern phrase to realise it could be used to mock as well as to sweeten. Glancing at Gina’s tense profile, she guessed this was one of the mocking times.
‘Missy wants a star theme running through the reception,’ Marnie continued ignoring Gina’s sarcasm. ‘She’s spending a small fortune on this gorgeous black drapery that billows from the ceiling and twinkles with thousands of tiny lights…’
Cassie didn’t really understand why you’d spend good money on creating the illusion of a starry sky when the real thing was up there for free. It certainly didn’t seem to be very effective budgeting. But weddings were as much a mystery to her as the notion of love, so she gave up trying to figure it out.
She was just going to lounge here with her friends and watch the stars come out.
One last time.
ONE
A decade on…
Cassiopeia watched Tuck… whatever his last name was…of quarterback fame swagger in the general direction of their table with his long, loose-limbed gait. Somehow his big, blond athleticism seemed to dominate the vast expanse of the open tent, with its delicate swathes of royal blue draped across the ceilings and trailing gently to the deck. But then she had a feeling he’d probably dominate any setting.
He made slow progress. Men stopped him to slap him on the back and shake his hand. Women stopped him to bat their eyelashes and put their hands on him. He took both in his stride, shrugging off their adoration with a wide, easy Shucks, I ain’t nuthin’ grin. The man was so laid-back Cassie was surprised he managed to stay vertical.
Very different from the man she’d watched only yesterday playing a very physical game of one-on-one basketball with Reese’s ex-Marine ex-husband Mason.
Reese had left the party that had originally been intended to be her wedding to Dylan to go after Mason, but her instructions to the remaining members of the Awesome Foursome had been clear—make sure no one gets into a fight.
Reese had deliberately sat Tuck, the jilted groom’s best man, next to her—away from Gina—to prevent such a calamity.
With Tuck firmly on Team Dylan and Gina, whose favourite pastime was baiting people, on Team Reese, Cassie could already tell it was going to be a long night.
‘He sure is pretty,’ Gina murmured with relish as she tracked his progress.
A very long night.
Cassie didn’t really see the attraction. But then she’d never been a slave to her hormones. She just wasn’t programmed that way.
Sure, Tuck Whats-his-name had all the features that the female of the species looked for in a mate. He was tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped. She couldn’t see the delineation of the muscles in his chest tonight, although they were obviously there beneath his charcoal suit. She knew from his shirtless one-on-one yesterday that they were plentiful and very well developed.
And, in the animal world, muscles equalled strength.
Another biological tick in his favour.
There was also the symmetry of his face. Square jaw, prominent cheekbones, nose, chin and forehead all proportional. Eyes evenly spaced. Lips perfectly aligned. Facial symmetry was one of the big markers of physical attraction and worthiness for mating, and Tuck had it in spades.
But Cassie still didn’t get it.
‘I have to go to the bathroom,’ she said, turning to Gina. ‘Try not to get into a fight with him while I’m gone. Remember, Reese is counting on us.’
‘I’ll be on my best behaviour,’ Gina assured her.
If Cassie had been better at picking up sarcasm she wouldn’t have been assured one iota, but she nodded, satisfied.
‘Here—reapply,’ Gina said, reaching into her clutch purse and pulling out the deep mulberry lipstick she’d slathered on Cassie’s mouth earlier.
Cassie frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because.’ Gina sighed. ‘That’s the price of wearing lippy.’ She waggled the item at her friend, who was looking at it as if it were a foreign object she’d never seen before. ‘Beauty is pain.’
Cassie smiled at the old catchphrase. Beauty is pain. She’d learned many things about being a woman under Gina’s tutelage. Gina could wear a pair of killer stilettos out clubbing all night without a single wince. Cassie had pretty much forgotten everything in the intervening decade, but she’d never forgotten how Gina had taken her under her wing—as if she were an Antipodean Eliza Doolittle.
Of course Cassie had failed ‘Female 101’ resoundingly, but Gina had been sweet and patient and there was just something about her vibrant personality that drew people. Cassie and Gina had stayed in contact despite the wedge that had been driven between the Awesome Foursome after Gina had thrown her one-night stand with Carter in Marnie’s face that fateful last night together ten years ago.
And now, a decade down the track, Gina was still looking out for her in the fashion stakes. Gina had taken one look at the shapeless maxi-dress Cassie had been going to wear and declared it an unnatural disaster. Before Cassie had known it she was swathed in soft grape fabric with no sleeves, a plunging crossover neckline, a ruched form-fitting waist and an A-line skirt, the hem of which fluttered just below her knees.
Her straight brown hair had been freed from its regulation floral scrunchie and loosely curled. Sparkly, strappy kitten heels had been supplied. A subtle hand had seen to eyeshadow and mascara. Lipstick had been brandished with gusto.
‘Reapply,’ Gina repeated.
Bowing to a greater knowledge, Cassie took the lipstick as instructed and departed.
Tuck pulled up at the table he’d been allocated a minute later. His knee ached but he ignored it in deference to the sultry sex goddess with raven hair. She was dressed in something red and clingy, sitting there looking up at him with a smile on her full mouth. A connoisseur of women from way back, he liked what he saw.
He shot her one of his killer smiles. He knew they were killer because an article about him in Cosmo had spent an entire paragraph talking about the sheer wickedness of his smile.
‘Well this here may just be my lucky night,’ he drawled, deliberately dragging out his vowels, plying her with all his Southern charm. His accent had been blunted over the years, with travel and living far from his Texan roots, but he could still pull it out when required.
According to the magazines, women just loved all that Southern country-boy charisma.
Gina quirked an elegantly arched eyebrow. ‘Oh, yes? Do tell,’ she murmured.
‘Ah, you’re the Brit.’ He grinned. ‘Gina, right?’
She nodded. ‘And you’re the quarterback.’
Tuck checked the closest handwritten place card on the table, disappointed to see that he was sitting directly opposite this sexy Englishwoman. He held it up and looked at her. ‘What say we switch this one for whoever’s supposed to be sitting next to you?’
‘Hmm…’ Gina placed her elbows on the table, propping her chin on one palm, pretending to think. ‘I think Reese meant to keep you and I apart.’
Tuck shot her his best wounded look. ‘And why would she want to do that?’
‘I think she was afraid you and I might come to blows.’
He continued his faux outrage. ‘Over what?’
‘Over her recent…shall we say…split from the groom. Your best friend?’
‘Ah. Well, now, if Dylan’s unconcerned then there’s no good in me holding a grudge, is there? Besides,’ Tuck said, pulling out his chair and sitting, his knee protesting at the movement, ‘I can flirt just as well from this side.’
Gina laughed. She couldn’t help herself. The big blond quarterback had an ego the size of North America. ‘You’re that good, huh?’
‘Darlin’, I am the best.’
Gina spied Cassie in the distance, making her way back to the table. She flicked her gaze to Tuck. It would be good to see him brought down a notch or two. ‘Works every time, huh?’
Tuck grinned at the sudden sparkle of light he could see in her eyes. ‘Every time.’
‘No one’s immune to your charm?’
Tuck shook his head. ‘Women love me. If they’re female and breathing…’ He shrugged, then dazzled her with another wide smile. ‘What can I say? I have a gift.’
Gina smiled back. He really was an exceedingly good-looking man, and his cast-iron confidence only added to his allure. It was a shame she wasn’t in the right frame of mind for a dalliance because she had an idea a night in bed with Tuck would be a great way to forget how badly she’d stuffed up all those years ago.
But her heart wasn’t in it.
Just then the DJ played his first number for the night and Tuck pressed home the advantage. ‘Ah, they’re playing our song,’ he teased. ‘How about we knock off the pretence and you just dance with me, Gina?’
Gina considered him a moment, aware of Cassie drawing closer all the time behind Tuck’s head. ‘Nah, getting me to dance would be too easy. Care to take a little wager?’
Tuck smiled at her. A woman who liked to gamble—better and better. He leaned forward. ‘I’m all ears.’
‘I bet you can’t get her—’ Gina nodded her head to indicate Cassie ‘—to dance.’
Tuck turned in his chair to see who Gina had in mind for him. A woman about the same age as Gina in some kind of purple dress was walking towards them. She had long dark brown hair arranged in loose ringlets that fell forward over nice bare shoulders. She had a cute nose, pretty eyes and an interesting mouth, and she was walking along seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, a slight frown marring her forehead as if her thoughts were somewhere else.
She was no English sex kitten, that was for sure.
She didn’t look like the average gridiron groupie either. Still, she was female, and Tuck had always liked a challenge. He turned back and smiled at Gina. ‘Piece of cake.’
Gina laughed. ‘Oh, this is going to be good.’
Tuck raised an eyebrow. ‘What do I get? When I win?’
Gina smiled. ‘The pleasure of Cassie’s company, of course.’
Tuck inclined his head. ‘Of course.’
Despite her earlier concerns about leaving Gina and Tuck together, Cassie had given it little thought in the fifteen minutes she’d been away. Her brain had been mulling over the findings of an astronomy research paper she’d read last night. She’d even applied the lipstick as ordered by Gina without conscious thought as she recalled the fascinating data.
She was surprised for a moment when she arrived back at the table to find Tuck Whats-his-name sitting there with Gina, apparently getting along just fine. She slotted the research into a file in her head and shut it down with a mental mouse click.
‘Everything okay here?’ she asked.
Tuck took a deep breath, then stood and used one of his very best hey-baby smiles on Cassie. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Reese’s cousin, Tuck.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘It’s mighty fine to meet you, ma’am.’
Cassie blinked up at him as he towered over her. Two things struck her at once. The man smelled incredible. Her nostrils flared as her senses filled up with him. And it wasn’t his cologne, because she was pretty sure she couldn’t smell anything artificial at all. Maybe a hint of soap or deodorant.
This was much rawer. More primal. Powerful. Overpowering, even. It made her want to press her nose to his shirt and inhale him. It demanded that she do so and she had to actually put her hands on the chair-back to stop herself.
So this was pheromones.
Scientists had known of their existence for decades, and perfume companies around the world had been trying to perfect them for just as long, but this man exuded it in hot, sticky waves.
Her salivary glands went into hyper-drive and she swallowed as she grappled with the urge to sniff him.
The second thing was his eyes. They were an intense, startling blue. The exact shade of an exploding star she’d once seen through the lens of a deep space telescope. They were out of this world. They were cosmic. Captivating.
Tuck looked into Cassie’s upturned face. She was staring at him, her lips slightly parted, the sound of her breath husky in his ears. He glanced at Gina and grinned.
Piece of cake.
‘Ma’am?’
Cassie dragged herself back from the universe she could see in his eyes, his intoxicating scent still singing to her like a Siren from the rocks. ‘Oh, yes…sorry.’ She shook her head. What had he said? Name. He’d introduced himself. ‘I’m Cassie,’ she said. ‘Cassiopeia.’
And then she made the mistake of slipping her hand into his and his pheromones tugged at her—hard.
‘So you’re the geek,’ he said softly, smiling at her.
Another dizzying wave of male animal wafted over her and it took a moment for Cassie’s brain to clear the fog.
Yes, she was the geek. And he was the jock. She had him by a good sixty IQ points—probably more. She didn’t get stupid around men. She didn’t get stupid, period!
So start acting like it!
She pulled her hand from his abruptly. ‘And you’re the jock,’ she said, as much to remind herself as a statement of fact.
Tuck refused to be offended. He shot Gina a faux insulted look. ‘Why do I get the feeling that Cassie isn’t fond of jocks?’
Gina lifted a shoulder. ‘Don’t take it personally. Cassie’s not fond of men generally.’ He shot her a look and she cut him off before he gave voice to what she knew he was thinking. ‘Not women, either.’
Tuck grinned, then turned his attention back to Cassie. Okay, so he had his work cut out for him. His momma always said things came too damn easy to him anyway. Her eyes were even prettier up close. A grey-blue, like a misty lake, with subtle charcoal and silver eyeshadow bringing out both colours perfectly.
He nodded at her place card on the table next to his and said, ‘Looks like I have the whole night to change your mind.’ Then he pulled out her chair and smiled at her.
Cassie didn’t move for a moment. She simply stared at him as the deep modulation of his voice joined forces with his heady scent to drench every cell in her body with a sexual malaise. Her nipples beading against the fabric of the flimsy dress Gina had loaned her snapped her out of it.
‘I usually require several pieces of evidence from trusted sources before I change my mind about anything,’ she said primly, taking the seat.
‘Noted,’ Tuck murmured, stifling a grin as he took his seat. He lounged back in it, regarding Cassie as she fiddled with her cutlery. ‘So, you don’t sound like you’re from around these here parts,’ he said.
‘No.’ Cassie refused to elaborate. Just because Reese thought it was a good idea to sit them together, it didn’t mean she had to be agreeable.
Gina rolled her eyes and took pity on Tuck. ‘Cassie’s Australian.’
‘Ah. Whereabouts? Sydney? That’s one pretty little city you have there,’ he said.
‘Canberra,’ Cassie said as she ran her finger up and down the flat of her knife. ‘It’s the capital,’ she added. A lot of people didn’t realise that.
And he was a jock.
‘Well, now,’ he said, leaning forward in his chair, his gaze acknowledging Gina before returning to Cassie, ‘we can have us a meeting of the United Nations.’
‘Hardly,’ Cassie said, desperately trying to sit as far back in her chair as possible and remember that he was a jock—a footballer—even if he did have pheromones so potent he should be being studied at the Smithsonian. Or milked and sold to the highest-bidding perfume manufacturer.
‘There are one hundred and ninety-three member states in the United Nations. And they meet in Geneva.’ She looked at Tuck. Jocks weren’t very good with geography. ‘That’s in Switzerland.’
Tuck raised an eyebrow. He was used to people making assumptions about his intelligence. Truth be told, he played up to them mostly—because calling people on their ignorance was usually an amusing way to pass the time.
It looked as if he was going to have a whole lot of fun with Cassie. ‘That’s just north of Ireland, right?’
Cassie pursed her lips. ‘It’s in Europe.’
‘Europe? Dang,’ Tuck said, broadening his accent. ‘I’m always getting them muddled up.’
‘Of course if you’re talking about the Security Council,’ Cassie plunged on, as the deep twang in his accent twanged some invisible strings low down inside her she’d never known existed, ‘that’s in New York. And you’d be in luck as Australia has just scored a seat on the Security Council.’
Tuck shot a look at Gina, who winked and grinned, clearly enjoying herself. Tuck was about to say something like, They wear those funny blue helmets at the Security Council, right? But the imperious tones of his and Reese’s Great-Aunt Ada interrupted.
‘Samuel Tucker,’ she said in her brash, booming New York accent. ‘How’d you sneak in here undetected?’
Tuck stood and smiled down at the self-appointed matriarch of the family. A died-in-the-wool Yankee, she liked to pretend that the Southern branch didn’t exist most of the time, but he had a soft spot for the sharp-tongued octogenarian.
‘Aunt Ada,’ he said, sweeping her up in his arms for a hearty hug. ‘Still as pretty as a picture, I see.’
Cassie felt herself sag a little as Tuck and his overwhelming masculinity gave her some breathing space.
‘Don’t sweet-talk me, young man. What are you doing all the way over here?’
Tuck gestured to the table. ‘I’m keeping Reese’s friends company.’
‘Reese…’ Ada tutted. ‘Running off after that Marine… That girl hasn’t got the sense she was born with…lucky she’s my favourite.’
‘Now, come on, Aunt Ada,’ Tuck teased. ‘I thought I was your favourite.’ Ada gave him a playful pat on the shoulder, then lifted one gnarled old hand and squeezed his cheek.
Gina’s mobile rang and she almost ignored it. She couldn’t decide what was more fascinating—the big blond quarterback sweet-talking an old lady or Cassie’s deer-in-the-headlights face. But it rang insistently, and Ada turned to her, looking imperiously down her nose.
‘Well, girl, are you going to answer that or not?’
Gina, recognising authority when she saw it, picked it up immediately. The screen display flashed a familiar number. ‘It’s Reese,’ she announced.
‘Reese.’ Ada tutted again. ‘Tell her to get back here. This non-wedding party was her hare-brained idea.’
Gina laughed, but as she answered the phone Ada’s interest had already wandered.
Cassie felt her shrewd gaze next.
‘This your girl?’ she said, turning to Tuck.
‘Absolutely not,’ Cassie said indignantly.
Then Tuck undid his jacket button and it fell open, wafting a heady dose of pheromones her way. She shut her eyes briefly as her pulse spiked in primal response.
‘She’s not your usual type,’ Ada said, ignoring Cassie’s denial.
‘I am not his girl,’ Cassie repeated, even though she could practically hear every cell calling his name.
‘It’s okay,’ Ada assured her. ‘I hate his usual type. Too…fussy.’
Tuck looked down at Cassie. She was frowning at him, her eyebrows weren’t plucked, and she wasn’t wearing a single scrap of jewellery. No one in the world would have described her as fussy. And yet there was something rather intriguing about her…
‘We are not together,’ Cassie reiterated. The thought was utterly preposterous.
‘Reese says she and Mason aren’t coming back tonight,’ Gina announced as she terminated the phone call, interrupting the conversation.
‘Right, then,’ Ada said. ‘Looks like we have a show to be getting on with. Samuel, go and tell that dreadful DJ to announce dinner. I’ll get the wait staff to start serving.’
The three of them watched her sweep away. ‘Wow,’ Gina said. ‘She’s scary.’
Tuck grinned. ‘Hell, yeah. Excuse me, Gina, Cassiopeia.’ He dropped his voice an octave, then bowed at her slightly, finding and holding her gaze. ‘Keep my seat warm, darlin’, I won’t be long.’
Cassie gaped as his cosmic blue eyes pierced her to the spot and his voice washed over her in tidal wave of heat.
Gina’s low throaty laughter barely registered.
Two hours later Cassie was strung so tight every muscle was screaming at her. Tuck was holding court at the table, charming all and sundry.
Big, warm-blooded, male and there.
A giant sex gland, emitting a chemical compound her body was, apparently, biologically programmed to crave.
Him. A jock. Why him?
Every time their arms brushed or his thigh pressed briefly along hers her pulse spiked, her hands shook a little. And when he laughed in that whole body way of his, which he did frequently, throwing his head back, baring the heavy thud of his jugular to her gaze, her nostrils flared and filled with the thick, luscious scent of him.
An insistent voice whispered through her head, pounded through her blood. Smell him. Lick him. Touch him. With every tick of the clock, every beat of her heart, it grew louder.
It was insane. Madness.
This sort of thing didn’t happen to her. Hormones. Primal imperatives. She was above bodily urges. Her head always—always—ruled her body.
But here she was, just like the rest of the human race, at the mercy of biology.
It just didn’t compute.
The man was as dumb as a rock. He’d thought they were talking about food when she’d mentioned Pi. He’d called a truly amazing piece of equipment unlocking the secrets of the universe the Hobble telescope. He didn’t even know the Vice-President of his own country.
He was a Neanderthal.
But still every nerve in her body twitched in a state of complete excitement.
Cassie desperately tried to recall the aurora research waiting in her room—the research she’d been looking forward to getting back to at the end of the night. When was the last time she’d gone two hours without thinking about it? She’d been working on the project for five years. She ate, slept, breathed it.
And for two whole hours it had been the furthest thing from her mind.
Marnie laughed at something Tuck said, dragging Cassie’s attention back to the big blond caveman by her side. She checked her watch—was it too early to leave? She wasn’t used to feeling this out of her depth. Sure, social situations weren’t her forte but this was plain torture. If she could get back to her room and the comfort of the familiar Tuck and the awful persistent thrum in her blood would surely fade to black.
She glanced up at Gina, who shook her head and mouthed, ‘Don’t even think of it.’
Cassie sighed, resigned to her fate, as the raunchy strains of Sweet Home Alabama blasted around them. Marnie whooped and leapt up to dance along with a few others from the table.
Tuck looked across at Gina and winked. He stood and looked down at the woman who had sat beside him for two hours as if she was afraid his particular brand of stupid was contagious. Didn’t she know he was God’s gift to women?
He grinned as he held out his hand towards her. ‘What do you say, Cassiopeia? Fancy a dance?’
Cassie stared at his hand. It was big, and she swore she could see waves of whatever the hell he was emitting undulating seductively from his palm. ‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t dance.’
Tuck hadn’t got to where he was today by giving up at the first hurdle. He kept his hand where it was. ‘It’s not hard, darlin’,’ he murmured. ‘Just hang on and follow my lead.’
Cassie swallowed. That was what she was afraid of. She had a very bad feeling she’d follow that intoxicating scent anywhere. She shook her head again and looked at him. A bad move as his cosmic gaze sucked her in closer to his orbit.
‘I’m a terrible dancer,’ she said. She dragged her gaze from him. ‘Isn’t that right, Gina?’
Gina nodded. Cassie had no rhythm at all. ‘She speaks the truth. But…’ She looked at Tuck, then at Cassie. Her Antipodean friend looked as if she’d rather face a firing squad then dance with Tuck. Interesting. She’d never seen Cassie so ruffled and, bet or no bet, she wanted to see where this went.
‘I think every woman should dance with a star quarterback once in her life,’ Gina said.
Tuck raised an eyebrow at her as Gina conceded the bet to him.
‘Ex,’ Cassie said. And when Gina looked at her enquiringly she clarified, ‘He’s an ex…quarterback.’
Gina drummed her fingers on the table. ‘You know, it is customary at weddings for the bridesmaids to dance with the groomsmen,’ she pointed out.
Gina had taken it upon herself to be Cassie’s social guru during the year they’d roomed together, and Cassie had learned a lot about social mores that no textbook could ever have taught her. But she was big on survival instincts, and Cassie was pretty sure staying away from Tuck was the smart thing to do.
And she was very smart.
Even if she was rapidly dropping IQ points every time she looked at him.
‘But this is the wedding-that-wasn’t,’ she pointed out, striving for the brisk logic she was known for. ‘We are the bridal-party-that-wasn’t. Surely that cancels out societal expectations?’
Tuck waggled the fingers of his still outstretched hand at her. ‘I think it’s important to keep up appearances, though,’ he said. ‘These Park Avenue types are big on that.’
Cassie looked away from the lure of those fingers at Gina, who nodded at her and said, ‘He’s right. You wouldn’t want to embarrass Reese, would you? It’s okay,’ she assured her. ‘Tuck looks like he knows what he’s doing.’
Tuck grinned, but he didn’t take his eyes off Cassie. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
Cassie glanced back at him, towering over her in all his intoxicating temptation. Maybe a dance would help. Maybe if she got the chance to sniff him a little this unnatural craving taking over her body, infecting her brain like a plague of boils, would be satisfied. That seemed logical.
Cassie slipped her hand into his.
And her cells roared to life.
TWO
By the time they got to the dance floor the last notes of Sweet Home Alabama had died out and the music had changed to a slow Righteous Brothers’ melody. All the couples that had been boogying energetically melted into each other and the singles left the floor. Cassie turned to go as well, but Tuck grabbed her hand and pulled her in close, grinning at her.
‘Where are you going, darlin’?’
Cassie’s breath felt like thick fog in her throat. ‘I…can’t waltz.’
She found it hard enough co-ordinating her hands and feet with some space between her and her dancing partners. She was going to do some damage to his feet for sure.
And she did not trust herself too close to him.
‘Sure you can. Just hold on,’ he said, taking her resisting hands and placing them on his pecs, ‘and shuffle your feet a little. There ain’t no dance police here tonight.’
Cassie didn’t hear his crack about dance police. Her palms were filled with hard firm muscle as the fabric seemed to melt away. The music melted away too—as did the people crowding around them.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the sight of her hands on his chest.
Tuck smiled to himself. ‘There you go—see.’ He took a step closer, his chin brushing the top of her head. He slipped his hands lightly onto her waist. There was definite curve there and he snuggled his palm into it. ‘I don’t bite.’
Cassie fought through the fog, dragging her eyes away from how small her hands looked in comparison to his broadness. She looked up. Way up. He was tall. And close. A hand-width away, she guessed.
Before tonight she would have been able to assess the distance accurately, but she simply couldn’t think straight at the moment. He was radiating heat and energy and those damn pheromones, totally scrambling her usual focus. His hands at her waist were burning a tract right down to her middle.
He smiled at her, his starburst eyes showering their effervescence all over her. She looked down, but that was a mistake also as his chest filled her vision, the knot of his tie swaying hypnotically in front of her with every movement of his body. And all the time an insistent whisper played in her head, swarmed through her blood in time with the swing of him.
Smell him, lick him, touch him.
She dragged her gaze upwards, desperate to stop the pull of the hypnotic rhythm. It snagged on the slow, steady bound of his carotid, his growth of whiskers not able to conceal the thick thud of it. She wondered what he’d smell like there. What he’d taste like.
Her nostrils flared. Her breath grew thick. She dug her fingers into the flat of his chest as she battled the urge to take a step closer.
Dear God, she was growing dumber by the second.
Shocked and dazed, she dragged her gaze down. Way down. Down to their feet. Down to the hole she wished would open up.
Tuck also looked down, frowning at how rigid she felt in his arms. As if she was going to shatter at any moment. Or going to bolt at any second. No woman had ever been so reluctant to be in his company. Or so keen to be away from it.
She could give a man a complex.
One thing was for sure. She needed to relax or she was going to have a seizure. ‘So…Cassiopeia? That’s not a name you hear every day. Is that a family tradition?’
Cassie looked up. His eyes flashed at her and she lost her breath for a moment. Were they closer? He seemed nearer. More potent. His chest was closer.
‘Cassie?’
She blinked. What? Oh, yes. Talking. That was good. She was good at talking. Usually…
‘My mum…she named me. After the constellation.’ She paused. Did he even know what that was? ‘That’s a group of stars,’ she clarified.
Tuck chuckled. This woman was going to give him a complex. Who’d have thought he’d be interested in such a little snob? The endearing thing was she seemed oblivious to it all. ‘Like the Zodiac?’ he enquired, purposefully broadening his accent again.
Cassie gaped at him. How could she possibly want to lick the neck of a man with a pea-sized intellect?
There was just no accounting for biology.
‘No, not like the Zodiac.’
He feigned a frown. ‘Ain’t you into astrology?’
‘Astronomy,’ she said, gritting her teeth. ‘A-stron-omy.’
‘So, that’s not like…Sagittarius and stuff?’
‘No,’ she said primly. ‘It’s the study of celestial objects. It’s science. Not voodoo.’
Tuck laughed again. He liked it when she got all passionate and fired up. There was a spark in those blue-grey eyes, a glitter. Would they get like that when she was all passionate and fired up in bed?
Suddenly it seemed like something he wouldn’t mind knowing.
The song ended and the pace picked up a little. A couple behind them bumped into Cassie and she stumbled and stood on his foot. ‘Oh, God, sorry,’ she gasped, pulling away as her front collided with his.
His broad, muscular front.
‘Hey, there, it’s okay,’ Tuck said, steadying her under her elbows, holding on as she tried to pull away, keeping her close. Their bodies were almost—but not quite—touching. ‘No harm done,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Why don’t you just lay your head here on my chest and stay awhile longer?’
She should tell him to go to hell. But her nostrils flared again as something primal inside her recognised him as male. And he smelled so damn good.
A whisper ran through her head. Do it.
Lay your head down. Shut your eyes. Press your nose into his chest.
Cassie fought against the powerful urge as long as she could but she was losing fast. Each sway of his body bathed her in his eau-du-male scent and before she knew it her cheek had brushed against the fabric of his jacket and was angled slightly, her nose pressed into his lapel.
She inhaled. Deep and long. Every cell was filled with him. Every tastebud went into rapture. Every brain synapse went into a frenzy.
It was so damn good she never wanted to exhale.
It was only the dizzying approach of hypoxia that forced her hand. She quickly breathed out, then took in another huge greedy gulp of him. His scent seduced her senses, stroked along her belly, unfurled through her bloodstream.
She pressed herself a little closer and her eyes rolled back in her head as his heat flooded all round her.
Tuck was surprised when Cassie’s body moved flush against his after her standoffishness. But he liked the way she fitted, her body moulding against his, her head tucked in under his chin nicely. And she let him lead, which was a novelty. Most women he danced with weren’t so passive in his arms.
They danced all flirty and dirty and sexy.
Not that Tuck had anything against flirty, dirty or sexy. He was all for them. But too often it felt like an act. As if the women he dated felt they had to gyrate and shimmy and generally carry on like a B-grade porn star to attract or keep his attention.
Okay, he’d never had a reputation for longevity—his two-year marriage was a sure sign of that—but he was, at his most basic, a guy. And just being female was enough to keep his attention.
Ever since his divorce he’d gone back to his partying ways—living the dream, a different woman every night—the ultimate male fantasy. But he’d forgotten how good this felt, how nice it was to slow-dance, to hold a woman and enjoy the feeling of her all relaxed against him.
Even if she did think he was dumb as a rock.
‘I think you’ve got this dancing thing down pat, darlin’,’ he murmured against her hair.
Cassie just heard him through the trancelike state she’d entered. Each breath she drew in fogged her head a little more, stroking along nerve-endings and leadening her bones. She was pretty sure she was drooling on his jacket.
But he had her in his thrall.
His hands felt big and male on her hips, and hot—very hot. She was aware of every part of her body. It was alive with the scent of him.
His chin rubbed the top of her head and she glanced up. Her gaze fell on the heavy thud of his carotid again, pulsing just above his collar beside the hard ridge of his trachea. Her mouth watered a little more and Cassie sucked in a breath.
‘Well, hey, y’all!’
Cassie dragged herself back from the impulse to push her nose into Tuck’s neck, grateful for Marnie’s interruption. She looked at her friend, who was dancing with a preppy-looking guy, still a little dazed.
‘It’s getting hot in here,’ Marnie said, then winked as her partner danced her away.
Cassie blinked at her retreating back and then glanced at Tuck, who was looking intently at her with his intense extra-terrestrial gaze.
What was she thinking?
She searched her brain for an answer. How great he smelled. How great he might taste. But more than that. She’d been thinking how small and feminine she felt tucked in under his chin, his hands shaping her hips.
How female.
She blinked, shocked by her thoughts. Since when had she cared about that? But her gaze was filled with his perfect symmetrical features and it all became fuzzy again. Why couldn’t he have a prominent forehead and squinty eyes and a crooked nose? He was a footballer, for crying out loud, didn’t they break noses regularly?
Why didn’t she feel like this about Len, her fellow researcher-cum-occasional-lover? She’d never once had to quell the urge to sniff him. They worked together every day, occasionally accompanied each other to university functions, and every once in a while he got antsy and irritable and they had sex, so he could concentrate on what was really important—astronomy.
She’d never slow-danced with Len. Nor did she want to.
She’d never wanted to crawl inside his skin.
It was a scary thought, and Cassie tried to pull away as another slow song started up, but Tuck held her fast and her damn body capitulated readily. Too readily. It was obvious biology was going to win out over intellect and logic tonight and that just wasn’t acceptable.
She needed to defuse the situation, to distract herself from the dizzying power of him.
‘So,’ she said, reaching for a safe, easy topic of conversation, ‘Tuck isn’t your real name?’
It was hardly Mensa level, and they weren’t about to unlock the secrets of dark matter, but at least it would give her back some control.
Mind over body.
And he looked like a guy who liked to talk about himself.
‘No.’ Tuck shook his head. ‘My Christian name is Samuel. Samuel Tucker. But no one calls me that. Except my mother.’
Even his wife had called him Tuck.
‘And Great-Aunt Ada,’ Cassie reminded him.
Tuck smiled. ‘And Great-Aunt Ada.’
Cassie frowned. ‘Why not be called by the name you were given?’
Tuck shrugged. ‘It’s a nickname.’ He looked down into her genuinely perplexed face. ‘Don’t they have nicknames in Australia? You’re called Cassie instead of Cassiopeia.’
Cassie shook her head. ‘No. Cassie is an abbreviation of my Christian name, not a nickname. If that were the case for you, you’d be known as Sam.’
Tuck waited for her to spell abbreviation for his poor addled brain. If she hadn’t felt a hundred kinds of right, all smooshed up and slow dancing against him, he’d be getting kind of ticked off by her attitude towards his mental prowess.
Instead he was prepared to humour her.
‘Except Tuck sounds cooler.’
Cassie frowned. ‘Cooler? Who says?’
Tuck liked the way her brows drew together, showcasing her grey-blue eyes to perfection. ‘Tens of thousands of football fans, screaming my name across every state in this great land for a decade.’
Not to mention quite a few more of the female variety also screaming it out loud in hotel beds across every state for just as long.
‘Oh.’ Cassie thought about it for a moment, but she’d never understood the dynamics of hero-worship regarding something as frivolous as sport. ‘Sorry, I don’t get that.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s a guy thing.’
Cassie suspected it was probably a jock thing, but she tucked it away anyway to ask Len about when they next spoke.
Thankfully the song ended and, feeling more in control of her recalcitrant hormones, she took the opportunity to step firmly away from him. ‘I’m done now,’ she said, and was proud of how strong her voice sounded when her body was howling to be nearer to him.
Tuck smiled and bowed slightly, ever the gentleman, as he gestured for her to precede him. It didn’t stop him from perving on her ass the whole way back to the table, though.
Almost two hours later everyone had left and Marnie, Gina and Cassie, under the direction of Great-Aunt Ada, had seen all the guests off and organised the removal of the gifts that had been left despite Reese insisting that no one bring any.
Tuck and his pheromones had also insisted on helping.
Cassie was getting twitchy. She had a paper to get back to. She didn’t have time for a big, blond ex-quarterback who’d obviously fallen out of the stupid tree. And hit every branch on the way down.
No matter how nice he smelled.
But somehow he was accompanying them back inside the grand entrance to the Bellington Estate, and then he was walking up the ornate stone staircase next to her, his arm occasionally brushing hers. When Marnie and Gina turned left at the top Cassie hoped that Tuck would do so too.
No such luck.
He smiled at her as he turned right. ‘After you,’ he said.
Cassie looked over her shoulder at Gina and Marnie, who had stopped and were looking at her with bemused expressions.
Gina waved her fingers and said, ‘Need someone to tuck you in?’
Marnie seemed to have trouble keeping a straight face and Cassie frowned at her.
‘I think she’s got that covered,’ Marnie said. ‘Night, Cassie. Night, Tuck. Sweet dreams.’
Cassie glanced at Tuck, who was also smiling.
‘Good night, ladies. See you in the morning.’
Before Cassie could make further comment her ‘friends’ had turned away and she was watching their backs retreat. She hoped that Marnie and Gina would use the time to talk, because it had been awkward between them at the table tonight. Although if the distance between them as they walked was anything to go by it didn’t look like they were ready to bury the hatchet just yet.
She looked at Tuck, and even though he was a good two metres away his aroma wafted her way and she instantly forgot about the animosity between her friends. Her belly tightened and then looped the loop.
‘What’s your room number? I’ll see you to your door.’
The last thing Cassie wanted was to have Tuck anywhere near her room. In fact she’d be perfectly happy never to be anywhere near him again. She was unsettled. Confused.
She was never unsettled. Never confused. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
‘I don’t need you to accompany me to my room,’ she said, taking care as she passed him to keep her distance.
Tuck watched the swing of her ass again for a moment or two, then called after her, ‘My momma would tan my hide if I didn’t see my date to her door.’
Cassie stopped mid-stride and turned to face him. ‘I am not your date.’
‘You sure danced like I was your date.’
Heat flooded her cheeks as she remembered how she’d clung and buried her nose in his clothes, as if he was her own personal scratch-and-sniff jock. Cassiopeia Barclay did not blush—ever! Curious at the strange phenomenon, she brought her palms up to cradle her face.
She cleared her throat. ‘It was…crowded,’ she said defensively, dropping her hands and folding her arms primly.
Tuck’s gaze dropped. Her folded arms had pushed her breasts up and together, exposing a nice curve of bare flesh at the criss-cross front of her dress for his viewing pleasure. Tuck had seen a lot bigger. He’d also seen smaller. Cassie’s looked just about right to him. A perky B cup, he’d hazard a guess.
Tuck grinned. ‘Come on, darlin’, it’s late. Let’s get you to bed.’
Cassie shoved her hands on her hips, determined not to let an image of him sprawled in her big hotel bed derail her thoughts. ‘Don’t call me darlin’.’ She mimicked his slow, easy Southern drawl to perfection. ‘And I’m perfectly capable of finding my way to my room. I can count.’
Tuck’s grin broadened. ‘Well, maybe you can help me find my room?’ He scratched his head in the most perplexed manner he could muster. ‘There’s a lot of wings in this place and it does get kind of confusin’ after a hundred, don’t it?’
Cassie rolled her eyes. The man was living proof that evolution could go in reverse. ‘How on earth do you count all those millions that kicking a stupid ball around earned you?’
Tuck shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Got me some bean-counters for that.’
Cassie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was going to be one of those has-been sports stars whose money was all gone in a matter of years because he had a little too much yardage between the goalposts to keep track of it himself. And he trusted too easily.
‘Follow me,’ she said huffily as she headed down the long grand hallway.
Tuck’s gaze ran over the contours of her back and settled on how her dress swung and fluttered with each movement. ‘Your wish is my command,’ he murmured under his breath.
Tuck deliberately took his time, stopping to examine old paintings hanging on the stonework, suits of armour and the antique vases that dotted the magnificent corridor. He kept up a running commentary for Cassie’s sake, purely because it seemed to annoy her.
‘Will you hurry up?’ she said impatiently, looking over her shoulder for the tenth time as he stopped to read the name of the artist of a particularly austere portrait. ‘I have a paper to get to.’
Tuck looked up. ‘You brought work?’ He shook his head at her and tsked as he meandered closer. ‘All work and no play makes Cassiopeia a dull girl.’
Cassie glared at him as they got underway again. ‘Not that I expect you to understand this, but there is nothing dull about auroras on Jupiter.’
‘Auroras?’
‘Yes—you know, like the Aurora Borealis?’ His blank look didn’t seem promising. ‘The Northern Lights?’ she clarified.
Tuck had witnessed the Aurora Borealis in Scandinavia on two separate occasions, but he wasn’t about to disappoint Cassie’s assumptions. ‘Isn’t she some mermaid?’
Cassie sighed. There really was no grain in his silo. He was an empty vessel. ‘No. It’s a real thing. It’s why I’m here. I’m completing my PhD studies at Cornell so next year I can go on a research trip to Antarctica. And Aurora was Sleeping Beauty. Ariel was the Little Mermaid.’
Tuck shrugged. ‘Well, it sounds like a mermaid if you ask me.’ And then he shot her his best goofy grin for good measure.
Thankfully her room approached, and Cassie all but leapt at the ornate doorknob. ‘This is me,’ she said. ‘What did you say your room number was again?’
She’d barely been able to concentrate on anything he’d said. When he wasn’t wandering off like a distracted child or lagging behind to look at things he was right there beside her, weaving his heady scent all around her.
Like he was now.
Tuck smiled. ‘Three hundred and twenty three,’ he said, and watched the fact that he would be sleeping directly opposite her dawn slowly on her face. ‘Howdy, neighbour.’
‘Oh.’ Cassie looked at the door opposite. Too close for comfort. Her highly developed sense of fight or flight kicked in as another dose of his masculinity wafted over her.
‘Right, then,’ she said, fishing in Gina’s glittery clutch purse for her room key and locating it with shaking hands.
The adrenaline. It had to be the adrenaline.
‘Goodnight,’ she said, barely looking at him as she turned away and reached for the door handle, hastily swiping the plastic card through the electronic strip.
The light turned red and she swiped it again, her hands even shakier. Another red light elicited a frustrated little growl from the back of her throat. She needed to get inside her room. Inside was work and logic and focus and sanity.
Out here with Tuck’s quiet presence behind her was insanity. And damnation.
She could feel it pulling at her body with sticky tentacles, drugging her with its perfume, wrapping her up in its heady thrall.
She swiped one more time. Red light.
‘Allow me.’
Cassie’s fingers stilled as Tuck’s hand slid over them. His body moved in behind hers and she was instantly cocooned in his intoxicating aroma. She shut her eyes as her nipples responded to the blatant cue. She could feel his breath in her hair, the warm press of his chest against her back, the power of his thighs behind hers.
She leant her forehead against the door, desperately reaching for logic. ‘I spend all day probing the outer depths of our solar system through a massive telescope,’ she said. ‘I’m pretty sure I can open a damn door.’
‘Shh,’ Tuck said, easing the key out of her unresisting fingers. ‘Some things don’t need big brains,’ he murmured. He took the plastic. ‘Some things need a slow hand…an easy touch.’
He slid the card through the strip with deliberate slowness. The lock whirred, the light turned green and he smiled as he turned the handle and pushed the door open a fraction.
‘Easy.’
Cassie practically whimpered at the low, deep sound of his Southern accent. It weaved around her like the melodic notes of a snake charmer, trapping her. The door was right there. It was open. All she needed to do was move. But she couldn’t.
‘Cassie?’
Tuck could feel her trembling and a surge of desire crested in his belly. His groin tightened. His blood slowed to a thick, primal bound. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and, to his surprise, she turned. Only a whisper separated them as heat flashed like a solar flare between them.
Her eyes looked all misty and dazed, her pupils large in the grey-blue depths. They seemed to shimmer up at him and he fell headlong into them. Her mouth was slightly parted and it drew his gaze. He picked up a long dark ringlet draped forward over her shoulder and wound it around his finger. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re quite beautiful?’
Cassie’s throat was dry as a sandpit as she shut her eyes against the seduction in his. No one had ever told her that. And she’d never cared. ‘I’ve never aspired to be beautiful,’ she dismissed. She was more comfortable with brainy.
He waited for her lashes to flutter open again before saying, ‘Well, you’ve failed.’
Tuck only intended to give her the briefest of kisses as he slid his palm onto her cheek. Just a little taste of her mouth. The mouth that had dissed him all night. Just to show her how pretty damn clever he could be.
And to leave her wanting more.
But the second his mouth touched hers and she opened to him as if he was water and she was dying of thirst it all went flying out of the window.
Cassie mewed as his lips brushed hers and her senses filled up with him. There was no thought or logic or analysis in play any longer as she overdosed on his intoxicating scent, sucking him in, drenching her cells in his pheromones. Her body had completely taken over and left her brain out of the equation.
She raised herself up on tiptoes. Her hands slid around his neck. Her mouth parted of its own accord. She moaned and dragged him closer as hot, scalding lust lashed her insides and flayed her flesh with the driving need for more.
It didn’t make any sense. Not when she swiped her tongue across his lips, or pushed it inside, or stroked it against his. Not when she moaned. Not when she gasped. Not when she grabbed his lapels to press herself closer.
She’d never been kissed like this.
She’d never kissed like this.
And still she was full of him. Her head buzzed with the essence of him. Her mouth was on fire. Her belly was tight. The heat between her legs tingled and burned.
Tuck barely managed to hold onto her as Cassie kissed him as if she was an evil genius intent on wicked things and he was her latest experiment. He might not be dumb as a rock but he was certainly as hard as one now as her deep, sexy kisses, body-squirming and desperate little whimpers stroked all his hot spots.
She even kissed differently from other women. No mouth gymnastics, no hands down his pants in seconds, no theatrical panting, no Oh, baby, baby. Just a scorching one hundred percent, full-throttle touchdown of a kiss. Her lips on his lips. Open and going for it.
He pushed her hard against the door, wanting to get closer, to kiss her deeper. But he’d forgotten it was already slightly open and she stumbled backwards. Their mouths tore apart.
He grabbed for her, finding her elbow, dropping it once she’d stabilised. And then they stood staring at each other, breathing hard, not moving for a moment, neither sure which way to jump.
Tuck knew enough about women to know that look in Cassie’s eyes. He knew he could pick her up, stride into her room and lay her on the bed and she’d follow wherever he took her. And enjoy every single second of it.
But he saw a whole bunch of other stuff in her eyes too. Most of it he couldn’t decipher. But he could see her confusion quite clearly. Obviously that kiss just did not compute for Cassie.
She looked as if she needed some time to wrap her head around it. Hell, he sure as hell did!
‘Are you okay?’
Cassie nodded automatically but she doubted she’d ever be okay again. What the hell had just happened? She felt as if she’d just had a lobotomy. Could a kiss render you stupid?
‘I think I should go now. Unless…’ He dropped his gaze to her swollen mouth.
Cassie shook her head and took a step back. No ‘unless’. Go, yes. Just go. He’d turned her into a dunce.
Tuck smiled at her dazed look. It was nice to have left an impression on Little-Miss-Know-It-All, even if he was going to go to bed with a hard-on the size of Texas. ‘Goodnight, Cassiopeia.’
Cassie was incapable of answering him. She feared she’d been struck mute. As well as dumb. She watched him swagger to his room opposite, slot his key in, open his door. He turned as he stepped into his room.
‘I’ll be right over here. If you need a cup of shhu-gar.’
Cassie had no pithy comeback as his door clicked quietly shut.
THREE
After tossing and turning for most of the night—not something that was good for her sanity—Cassie woke at nine a.m. and the first thing she thought about was Tuck. She dragged a pillow over her head and bellowed a loud, furious denial.
She always woke at six. And most certainly never thought about a man.
Cassie’s brain was engaged the moment her eyes flicked open after her regulation eight hours’ sleep. For the last several years her waking thoughts had centred on her aurora research and she’d spring out of bed and head straight for her computer.
This morning her head was full of Tuck and the kiss.
Her computer, the research, her will to live—all lost in a sea of oestrogen.
She yanked the pillow off her head and turned on her side. Her baggy T-shirt was twisted around her torso and the movement pulled it taut against her breasts. Her nipples responded to the brush of fabric, her belly clamped, and a red-hot tingle took up residence at the juncture of her thighs.
Cassie dragged some deep breaths in and out, trying to conjure up the latest deep-space images she’d seen yesterday. But it was no use—she could still smell him in her nostrils and taste him on her mouth.
The phone rang and she snatched it up immediately, grateful for something else to do, to think about.
‘Hello?’
‘Cassie, get off that computer and get your heiny down here now,’ Marnie demanded. ‘Reese is back and we’re having breakfast.’
Her friend’s Southern accent reminded her of Tuck’s lazy Texan drawl and Cassie almost groaned out loud. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’
Anything—anything—to take her mind off the annoying jock.
Cassie entered the grand dining room exactly ten minutes later, completely oblivious to the eyebrows her rather informal attire was raising. She’d thrown on a pair of loose leggings and a baggy T-shirt with a slogan that said ‘Back in my day we had nine planets’—one of the many geek-themed shirts Gina, Marnie and Reese had sent her over the years.
She hadn’t even bothered to brush her hair—just pulled it back into her regulation low ponytail, with her regulation floral scrunchie, and pushed one of her many-toothed Alice bands into it, ensuring it stayed scraped back off her forehead. There really was nothing more annoying than hair getting in the way when she was in the middle of something.
Actually, there was now. And its name was Tuck.
Unlike the rest of the people in the dining room, dressed in their country club pasteles, her friends didn’t bat an eyelid as Cassie scurried their way, then plonked herself in one of the three empty seats at the round table. They’d have been shocked had Cassie dressed in any other way.
Cassie forced a smile to her face as she looked at a glowing Reese, radiating the same kind of happiness she had a decade ago when she and her Marine had first met. ‘When did you get back? Where’s Mason?’
‘An hour ago.’ Reese grinned, sipping at some coffee. ‘He’s taking care of some business.’
Cassie barely registered Reese’s reply but nodded anyway. A waiter interrupted and Cassie, ignoring the piles of pancakes the others were tucking into, ordered the same thing she had every morning for breakfast—yoghurt and muesli and two slices of grain toast with Vegemite. When he informed her they didn’t have Vegemite she ordered jam.
‘You okay?’ Reese frowned. ‘You look kind of tired.’
‘I didn’t sleep very well,’ Cassie said.
Marnie looked at Gina, and Gina narrowed her eyes at Cassie. ‘Since when doesn’t Little-Miss-Eight-Hours not sleep well?’
Cassie looked at her friends all watching her with curiosity. She shrugged. She didn’t know what to tell them because she’d never not slept well.
Gina lounged back in her chair, her arms crossed, her fingers tapping against her arms. ‘This hasn’t got anything to do with a certain quarterback, has it?’
Marnie sat forward, her blonde hair neat as a pin in a high ponytail that was one hundred percent more cute and perky than Cassie’s. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’
Reese frowned at both her friends. ‘Tuck?’
‘Tuck and Cassie danced last night,’ Gina said.
‘Real close,’ Marnie added.
Reese blinked at her. ‘Cassie?’
Cassie had decided on her way down to the dining room that she wasn’t going to tell a soul about the strange feelings coursing through her body, but she felt herself sag under the scrutiny of three sets of eyes. She’d always been a great believer in solving problems by seeking out experts in the field. And, having lived with these three women and been through all their relationship ups and downs, she had to admit she had a panel of experts in front of her.
What better people to confide in?
‘I don’t know what’s happening,’ she murmured. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night. I always sleep. I need to sleep. It’s vitally important that I do. I take specific medication to switch off my brain so I can sleep. And it never fails. I’m out like a light. Usually… And this morning I didn’t wake until nine… I’m always up at six. Always.’
‘Well, you were tired,’ Marnie reasoned.
‘And do you know what my first waking thought was about?’ Cassie continued, ignoring Marnie.
‘I’m guessing it was about something a little closer to the earth than usual?’ Gina said.
Cassie sighed in disgust. ‘It was him. The jock.’ She looked at her friends for answers. ‘I don’t understand what’s happening to me.’
Her friends didn’t say anything for a moment, as if they were waiting for her to say more or to clarify something. Then, one by one, the three women opposite her broke into broad grins.
She frowned. ‘What?’
Her friends had the audacity to laugh then, looking at each other as they cracked up. Cassie glared at them. ‘This is not funny.’
‘No, of course not,’ Reese soothed as she struggled to regain her composure. ‘Falling in love is never funny.’
Cassie gaped at Reese. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she spluttered.
‘Aww…’ Marnie purred, ignoring Cassie’s protest. ‘Our little girl is all grown up now,’ she teased.
‘And to think,’ Reese continued, ‘we voted you the girl least likely to ever fall for a man.’
Cassie crossed her arms across her chest and waited for their frivolity to wane. She would not entertain such unscientific mumbo-jumbo. Love was a fiction perpetuated by romance novels and Hollywood.
‘It’s not love,’ she said frostily when the last smile had fallen beneath her uncompromising glare. ‘Just because you’re seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses, Reese, does not mean I’ve taken leave of my senses. You know I don’t believe in that voodoo. It’s his pheromones—that’s all. The man smells incredible…’
Cassie could still smell him on her, and she shut her eyes for a moment to savour it.
‘It was dizzying,’ she said, eyes still closed. ‘Truly sensational. Like it was all I could do to stop myself sniffing and sniffing and sniffing him all night.’
Cassie’s eyelids fluttered open and she found her friends staring at her with varying degrees of perplexity. She cleared her throat and straightened in her chair. ‘Anyway…it’s obviously a scent I’m biologically programmed to respond to. It’s just…biochemistry. Nothing more.’
The waiter arrived and conversation stopped as he placed Cassie’s breakfast in front of her. When he left Cassie looked at Gina. ‘Surely there’s a lay word for that other than love? When your body overrules your brain?’
Gina nodded. ‘Yep. We call it horny.’
Cassie shook her head. ‘No.’ She was a scientist. She refused to be horny.
Gina nodded again. ‘Totally gagging for it.’
Cassie wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but it sounded like something they’d say in the locker room on an American cop show. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘Libido?’ Reese supplied.
Cassie paused. She liked that word best. It was backed up by science—the non-Freudian kind. It could be proved—the area of the brain responsible for libido had been studied extensively.
‘Yes,’ Gina agreed. ‘It’s your libido knocking.’
‘Okay, I can buy that,’ Cassie conceded. ‘But my libido has never been an issue before, so why is it knocking now?’
‘Well, that’s easy,’ Gina said. ‘When was the last time you had sex?’
Cassie thought about it for a moment. It had been Len’s birthday request. ‘Seven months ago.’
Gina blinked. ‘Seven months?’ She looked at Reese and Marnie, who were also staring at Cassie’s admission. ‘Well, in that case it’s definitely your libido.’
‘Who’s the guy?’ Marnie asked.
‘His name is Len. He’s another astronomer at the university. We’ve been working on the same project for the last five years. We have a regular hook-up.’
‘Every seven months?’ Gina interjected.
‘It varies,’ Cassie said, oblivious to the palpable incredulity around the table. ‘Usually whenever he starts to get cranky. I’ve found that it improves his focus.’
‘Okay…’ Gina said, shaking her head. ‘So this last time—was it…you know…good?’
Cassie shrugged. Personally she’d never got the big deal about sex. ‘It was satisfactory.’
Gina looked at Reese for back-up. ‘I think what Gina means,’ Reese continued, ‘is did you…you know…’ she lowered her voice ‘…orgasm?’
‘Oh, no,’ Cassie said, unfazed by the conversation. When they’d all lived together Cassie had been privy to many girly chats about all kinds of sex-related issues. She’d learned a great deal of stuff in that house that a bunch of lectures and books had never taught her. ‘I’ve never had an orgasm.’
Had Cassie been one to find humour in awkward situations she would have found the total disbelief on her friends’ faces completely hilarious. They’d all stopped eating and were staring at her.
‘What…never?’ Marnie asked after a stunned silence.
Cassie shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Not even…by yourself?’ Reese asked.
‘Or with a vibrator?’ added Gina, last to recover.
Cassie looked from one to the other. ‘I’ve never masturbated and I don’t own, nor have I ever, a vibrator.’
More silence followed, finally broken by Gina’s, ‘Well, that’s just unnatural. Going without sex is one thing, but there is no excuse for not indulging in a little self-love, Cassiopeia. It’s perfectly healthy. Normal, actually. Didn’t I teach you anything?’
Cassie put down her spoon. ‘No, it’s fine. Some people don’t need sex.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m one of them.’
‘It’s not fine,’ Reese interjected. ‘I don’t know who this Len is that you’ve been having sex with…very, very infrequently…but he’s definitely doing it all wrong.’
‘No, it’s not his fault.’
‘Oh, I think it is,’ Marnie said.
‘No, really.’ Cassie looked at her friends’ concerned faces. ‘The medication I take to sleep…one of its side-effects is libido suppression and difficulty achieving orgasm.’
Gina shuddered. ‘I think I’d rather stay awake for the rest of my life.’ She looked at Cassie. ‘Are you sure you need it?’
Cassie nodded. ‘Without it my brain doesn’t switch off and I can’t sleep. And that’s extremely detrimental to my health. I start to get a little OCD without sleep. And one stay in the psych ward as a teenager was more than enough.’ Cassie vividly remembered the chaos her mind had descended into—how she’d quickly spiralled out of control. ‘Trust me, that’s an experience I never want to repeat.’
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Amy Andrews
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Talk nerdy to me…Samuel Tucker is absolutely the last person scientist Cassie Barclay would ever date. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but he’s also far too cocky for his own good and thinks that pi is a tasty afternoon treat. So when he asks her to dance at her friend Reese’s non-wedding she’s wondering why on earth she says yes!Tuck is used to people assuming he’s all brawn and no brain, and amuses himself by winding Cassie up. But when he finally takes her to bed, suddenly it’s Tuck who can show Cassie a thing or two!Can he convince her that love and sex have nothing to do with logic and everything to do with chemistry?