In one scene after spotting Mellors, Connie had stripped in front of a mirror and studied her body, analyzing which parts of it Mellors might find the most attractive if he were watching.
On impulse, Cassie turned to the full-length mirror in her bedroom and appraised her figure clad in faded low-rise jeans and a yellow T-shirt. She was of average height and weight, with a figure that had always been a bit too curvy to be fashionable. But Mark had commented more than once that he wasn’t attracted to women who were “a bag of bones.”
Slowly, Cassie began to disrobe.
She lifted her T-shirt over her head, then reached around to unhook her sensible bra. Her breasts fell forward, the tips budding in the coolness of the air. They felt heavy with need. Every thought of Mark fueled her desire to seduce him, to let him know what he’d missed out on.
She unzipped her jeans and shimmied them down her legs, along with her practical, full-coverage panties. Cassie stared at her nude body from all angles. Her hips were generous, but shapely and firm, and her waist was tapered. Her legs and arms were slender and toned with the demands of her job, which often required her to be on a job site, hefting tools and coordinating equipment.
For thirty, she didn’t look so bad naked, she decided with a lift of her chin. She had nothing to be ashamed of.
She started to redress, then paused and considered her beige underwear. It was rather…matronly. She walked to her bureau and rummaged to the back of a drawer until her fingers closed around the scrap of red lace she was looking for.
But the plain yellow T-shirt wasn’t that sexy…unless she went braless.
And the jeans…Cassie reached for a pair of scissors.
She couldn’t take a chance that Mark wouldn’t notice her when he arrived.
She’d have to make sure he had plenty to look at.
3
FROM THE CURB, CASSIE’S refurbished ranch house was exactly as Mark remembered it. The woman had good taste, having removed all the extraneous detail added by previous owners, stripping the house to its original lines and low-to-the-ground profile. Although his personal style was more contemporary, he admired the mid-century design. Another example of how compatible he and Cassie had been…on every level except the one that mattered most. He reminded himself that by breaking it off when he had, he’d simply saved them both from a tedious situation that was headed straight for the “average” side of the relationship scale.
He parked his SUV in her driveway and climbed out, experiencing a mingling of familiarity and surprise at the things that had changed, the things he’d missed. Cassie’s minimalist landscaping had gone through a growth spurt. And she’d painted her door a deep rust red that contrasted nicely with the gray wood siding.
He loosened his tie in the summer heat, rang the doorbell and waited, but there was no answer. Thinking Cassie might have moved to the outside in her cleaning, he decided to walk around to the backyard. Whistling lightly, he strolled around the side of the house. Sure enough, he heard the sound of a water hose. When he reached the gate leading to the backyard, he peeked around to get her attention…and froze.
Cassie was washing the exterior windows with a water hose, but had managed to soak herself in the process. Her dark ponytail sagged with moisture, and water dripped from her elbows. Her yellow T-shirt had molded to her breasts and it was clear she wasn’t wearing a bra. Cut-off jean shorts hugged her wet thighs, revealing a generous length of toned leg.
Damn.
Mark’s body reacted just as she looked up and noticed him. Her sunny smile hit him hard and he wondered briefly how he’d managed to get along without it all these months.
Cassie waved him inside the gate, then reached to turn off the water hose. Mark tried to maintain his composure as he walked closer, but he couldn’t stop staring at her breasts, perfectly outlined in the wet T-shirt. And the more he stared, the tighter his pants got.
“Hi,” Cassie called cheerfully, obviously unaware of the erotic picture she presented, standing there holding a hose, no less.
“Hi,” Mark offered past a constricted throat. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, this is fine,” she said. “I was just getting ready to take a break. Would you like a glass of lemonade?”
Since his mouth was dry and he was suddenly perspiring profusely, he said, “Sure.”
“Come on in.”
He followed Cassie toward the back door, so mesmerized by the swing of her rear end in the cut-off shorts that when she stopped and bent over to slip off her shoes, he bumped into her. Worse, he knocked her off balance and had to grasp her waist to keep her from falling. In the intimate dance, he was certain she felt his erection, and the feel of her rounded derriere only made things worse.
“I’m sorry,” he said, flustered, but she only laughed it off and preceded him into the house. He followed her to the kitchen where they’d made several good meals together, he recalled. He frowned. Why did he keep remembering all the things they had in common?
“So what have you been up to lately?” Cassie asked as she turned her back to remove two glasses from the cupboard.
“Same old,” he said casually.
“Any interesting projects on the horizon?”
Mark opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he’d been about to say flew out of his head when Cassie opened the refrigerator door and leaned over. The short shorts rode up, revealing toned hamstrings…and the edge of lacy red panties. His cock expanded farther.
She straightened and turned, holding the lemonade. The chill of the fridge had turned her nipples to hardened points, poking through the T-shirt. “Nothing?”
Mark blinked. “Huh?”
She laughed. “Interesting projects?”
He thought of the Belzer job. “Not really. How about you?”
“A few things,” she said vaguely. “I took off today because things are about to get busy.”
She poured them each a glass of lemonade, and when she lifted her glass, her pink tongue flicked out to catch a drop on the rim. Mark stared, captivated, then drank deeply from his own glass, hoping the cold liquid would help to cool him down. “I saw that Rugers is bidding on the Belzer Tower project.”
Cassie nodded. “I’m heading up the bid.”
His pulse jumped. “So you’ll be lead architect?”
“If we get the job. I saw your firm on the list, too.”
He nodded.
She smiled. “I guess it’s a good thing we aren’t seeing each other anymore, or that could be sticky.”
He gave a little laugh and nodded.
“Oh—here are your things.” From the end of the counter she picked up a folded shirt and handed it to him, then dropped a pair of silver cufflinks in his hand.
Mark unfolded the Atlanta Motor Speedway T-shirt that was easily an XXL and pursed his mouth. “Uh…this isn’t my shirt.”
Cassie’s eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Yeah. The owner of this shirt is a lot bigger than me.”
“Really?” She took the shirt and held it up to his chest, as if she needed proof. The warmth of her fingers burned through the fabric to his skin. Then she frowned