Collide (31 page)

He was caught in the corner with Rebecca
Stringer. Shit.

“You ever write a song about me?”

He nearly choked on the tuna in his mouth.
“Uh—”

“I mean, that one they played on the radio a
few months back.” She paused and sang in a girlish voice, “‘She had
my heart, she stole my soul, I’ll keep her close till I grow old.’”
Her eyes glittered. “I think that could have been about me.”

What the hell could he say to that?

She hummed it over again and grinned at him
crazily. “We had some good times, right? Back in the day?”

Someone rescue me
.

His pulse quickened when he spied the woman
from the porch. She was tidying up the table in the kitchen,
gathering empty plates and cutlery. From where he stood, Cain
didn’t see her little boy.

“Who’s that?” he asked instead.

Rebecca glanced toward the table, her eyebrow
arched. “The cleaning lady?” She lowered her voice, as if she were
sharing a dirty secret. “Well, she moved to town about a year ago.
Came from the South, Savannah or New Orleans.” She shrugged. “I
think her name is Sally, maybe? Dunno, she cleans my house too.”
Her eyes narrowed as she focused back on him. “Why?”

Cain’s eyes hardened. He didn’t like her tone
or her attitude. Some things never changed. Money bought a lot of
things, but class and humility sure as hell weren’t on that list.
“The woman scrubs your floors, and you have no idea what her name
is?”

“She cleans my toilets too.
Should
I
be on a first- name basis with her?” Gone was the sly smile.

Cain leaned in close. “You forget, Rebecca,
there was a time when
my
mother cleaned your toilets and
half the town’s elite’s, for that matter.”

“But,” she sputtered, “that’s different.
Lauren’s one of us now, and technically they weren’t my toilets,
they were my mom’s.” Nervous laughter fell from her lips as she
swept her tongue over what Cain now decided were collagen
blunders.

The remainder of his sandwich was tossed into
the garbage. He was tired as hell, and the beer and vodka hadn’t
helped. The day had been an emotional roller coaster, and he didn’t
have the time or patience for someone like Rebecca Stringer.

It wasn’t as if he was looking to get into
her pants. Hell, that boat had sailed, crashed, and burned.

“And what is it you do these days?” he
asked.

“Do?” Rebecca looked surprised. “You mean,
like a job?”

He nodded. What did someone like Rebecca
Stringer do with her time?

“Well, I—I’m married.” She shrugged. “I don’t
have to work.”

“Figures.” He glanced at her hands. The
fingers were tipped scarlet, their perfection and length obviously
fake. A large diamond sparkled on her finger. “Who’d you marry?”
Rebecca’s eyes were now dark slits of anger, her pouty lips pursed
so tight, she resembled a goddamn blowfish. She raised her chin and
took a step back.

“Bradley Hayes. He’s just been named junior
partner in his father’s law firm.”

“Good luck with that.” He’d spied Hayes
chatting up a leggy brunette outside. The bastard was no different
than his father. Cain’s mother had stopped working for the family
after the elder Hayes had been inappropriate one time too many.

He walked past her without another word.
Rebecca was much like the bored, rich housewives who were a dime a
dozen in LA—always looking over the horizon, loving no one but
themselves and the size of their husband’s wallet.

“Hey, need some help?”

The redhead jumped, her eyes wide as she
glanced up at him. He’d startled her, and for one second she
reminded him of a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

She regained her composure and looked away,
her voice soft, the drawl he’d noticed earlier a little more
pronounced. “No, thank you. I’m tidying up for Marnie. It’s the
least I can do.”

“I don’t mind.” Cain grabbed the stack of
plates she’d gathered into a pile and moved them to the counter
near the dishwasher. He stared down at the machine for several
seconds. He had one at home, a supersized monster, in fact. He’d
just never used it before.

“Don’t worry about dishes. The caterers will
be here within the hour to do the real cleanup. Everything belongs
to them.”

She was there, beside him, placing several
wineglasses in a neat row next to the dishes. Her fingers were long
and delicate, the nails short and free of color. She was smaller
than he’d thought. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder.
Her scent lingered in the air, and Cain wondered what it would feel
like to hold her. Would she lean into him, soft and pliant, with
those big blues looking up at him? Or would she be aggressive and
hard, pushing and reaching for something more?

He took a step back, ran his hand along his
forehead, and then rolled his shoulders. He really shouldn’t be
thinking about her like that. Hell, he shouldn’t be thinking about
anything right now except sleep.

“I see you’ve met our Maggie.”

Lauren Black slipped her arm through his, and
Cain gave his mother a hug.

Maggie
. It suited her. His dark gaze
swept back to the redhead, but her eyes were lowered. Her hands
clutched a rag so tightly, her knuckles were white.

“We met earlier on the porch,” he answered.
“Though I don’t think we were officially introduced. I’m Cain.” She
looked up. Her eyes were darker than before, the deep blue now two
shades past navy. A thin layer of freckles sprinkled the bridge of
her nose, and an image of his tongue sweeping across her creamy
skin flashed before him. Cain’s groin tightened; his lips
thinned.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was at a
funeral reception for Christ sakes.

Jesse’s funeral
.

It was the booze. The lack of sleep. It had
to be. He nodded toward the far end of the kitchen. “How’s Raine?”
When in doubt, divert attention.

Lauren shook her head. “Not good.” Jake was
at Raine’s side, his hand on her shoulder, his eyes intense as he
leaned in close to listen to whatever she was saying. “They loved
each other so much. She didn’t deserve this.” Lauren paused. “I
thought they’d live the dream, you know. I really did.”

“Dreams sometimes turn into nightmares.”

Cain and his mother turned back to Maggie.
She looked pensive, surprised maybe that she’d spoken out loud.

“I, uh…” Her small tongue darted out and
moistened her lips. They were full, kissable, free of gloss, and
sexy as hell. She had the kind of mouth men fantasized about, lips
meant for sinning, for gliding and nibbling. Cain’s chest tightened
as he stared down at her, an unfamiliar feeling warming his
body.

She was really…kind of perfect.

“I didn’t mean anything.” She paused and
nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just…when you
love like that, you take a chance.”

“On what?” Cain was curious. He’d never been
hooked. Hell, the Natasha fiasco had been a whirlwind of hot sex
and fantasy. In the end it had been nothing more than a train
wreck, and when it finally derailed, he’d been left wondering what
the hell he’d ever seen in his ex. There’d been nothing of
substance, no glue to hold them together.

“On losing yourself.” Maggie glanced at her
watch. “I have to call a cab and get Michael home. He fell asleep
over an hour ago.”

His mother’s grip tightened and she yanked on
his arm. “Don’t be silly. We’ll give you a ride.” She glanced up at
her son. “Cain will drive you.”

“No.” Her answer was abrupt. “He’s been
drinking.”

She was right. Cain couldn’t drive.

“You have your driver’s license?” Lauren
asked.

At Maggie’s nod, she continued. “Perfect. You
take Cain’s rental and drop him off at my house on the way.”

His mother planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
“I’m going to grab my purse and say good-bye to Steven and Marnie.
Don’t wait up. I have a prior engagement I can’t get out of.” She
paused. “You
do
know where the house is, right?” Her sarcasm
was noted and he shrugged sheepishly.

His mother had married a wealthy financier
from Chicago a few years after he left town. Cain had met the man a
few times—they’d jelled over football and not much else. He’d been
a proper sort of man and had doted on Lauren. Sadly, he’d died
nearly five years ago, leaving the bulk of his wealth to his
wife.

Her eyes narrowed onto his. She’d bought a
new place a few years back and knew damn well he had no clue where
it was.

“No matter,” she continued, “Maggie knows.”
She turned to the young woman. “If you could help us out, that
would be great.”

“Of course.” Maggie turned abruptly. “I’ll
get Michael.”

Cain’s eyes followed her slight form as she
disappeared down the hall, his eyes resting on the curve of her
ass.

“Forget it, Cain. She’s not for you.” His
mother pursed her mouth, and a frown creased her forehead. At his
look of surprise, she did everything except shake her finger at
him. “I mean it. She’s not some groupie or model or anything like
the women you’ve been with. The last thing she needs is someone
like you filling her head with nonsense.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Someone like me?”