Unravel Me

  Unravel Me

  Tori St. Claire

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Tori St. Claire. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Edited by Liz Pelletier and Kaleen Harding

  Cover design by Heather Howland

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-62266-423-8

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition November 2013

  To my sons, who walk beside me in this journey and are the biggest cheerleaders I could ever hope to have. I love you so very much.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Acknowledgements

  Author Bio

  Chapter One

  One drink. Just one drink.

  Then Cassandra Blaire could return home and cozy up with case files, like she really needed to be doing tonight. Instead, she’d let her secretary Stephanie convince her into a blind date with some friend of her current go-to guy. A pity date, probably, given she’d spent the last three years since her husband’s death focusing on work and not her social life.

  Sure, she went out now and then… Okay more then than now. But she’d done the settling down, meeting someone else’s needs, for ten years. It was time to see to her own desires, and really the only desire she had currently was to win this Cooper case so she could alter the successful criminal practice her husband had built into a family law practice. And that meant preparing to meet the pitbull opposing counselor tomorrow, not drinking it up with a stranger.

  But she’d committed, and she couldn’t back out now. Stephanie would never let her hear the end of it.

  Cassie glanced up at the twinkling Christmas lights strewn across the popular restaurant’s front entrance. One glass of wine. She could excuse herself after. Besides, the little bit of alcohol might unwind some of the nerves that kinked the closer her meeting with her legal adversary grew.

  She shoved open the car door to a blast of cold winter air, set a black heel on the parking lot’s asphalt, and climbed out. After shutting the door, she smoothed the short length of her black skirt over her rear and approached the entry. Loud laughter blended with Christmas carols as she stepped inside.

  “Good evening, ma’am,” the hostess greeted her warmly. “Did you have a reservation?”

  Cassie forced a wide smile. “Jefferson. For two?”

  The woman ran a manicured nail down her guest book. A crinkle appeared in her brow as she turned the page. “Jefferson, you said?”

  “Um…yes. Eight o’clock.”

  The hostess shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see anything listed.”

  Cassie blinked. “Are you certain? I’m sure it was here at eight.”

  With a sympathetic smile, the young woman nodded. “I’m sure. And I don’t have any available tables either to fit you in.”

  Well, didn’t that just beat everything. She’d been stood up. After supposedly hounding Stephanie for the set-up, the jerk didn’t even have the courtesy to cancel. It really shouldn’t have bothered her—after all, she didn’t know the guy—but the rejection still stung. That kind of crap hadn’t happened since college.

  She let out a heavy sigh and scanned the bar area. Logic said she ought to go home, but she was here now, and her bruised ego definitely could use that glass of wine.

  “I’m really sorry,” the hostess said again.

  Cassie shook her head. “That’s okay. I’m only going to have a glass of wine at the bar.” She shrugged out of her coat, looped it over her arm, and struck off toward the crowded alcove, avoiding looking at the dining room full of couples and the rose-topped tables bathed in candlelight. So much for a kindling up a holiday romance. Not that she’d really been hoping. But if it had happened, celebrating with someone would have been nice.

  While the crowded dining room wasn’t a surprise, the bar’s elbow-to-elbow crowd was thicker than she remembered in years past. Maybe it was the significant snow that had descended on the mountains. For the past month, it seemed like every place in Vail, Colorado brought more tourists than usual. More single, male tourists, to be specific.

  Then again, maybe she’d just been paying more attention. Christmas was in another two weeks, and it didn’t seem depressing anymore. Her house no longer screamed Chris’s absence every time she turned out a light. And her big four-poster bed had stopped feeling so damned empty. All it did was remind her she hadn’t ever wanted the monstrous thing anyway. Though, admittedly, she’d made peace with the objections now that she could sleep flat out in the middle of the huge mattress.

  Oddly enough, she’d realized a lot of those sort of things—she’d done an awfully good job at compromising what she wanted when she married Chris Blaire. His sudden death had shattered her. But rebuilding awakened parts of her she hadn’t realized she’d let go of.

  Cassie strode to the bar and shouldered between two men in business suits.

  “Can I help you, miss?” the bartender asked as he plucked a glass off the shelf and set it under the beer tap.

  “Ah, yes, I’ll take a—”

  The feel of warm fingers brushing across her ankle brought her up short. She stumbled a step and looked down. Two heavenly blue eyes locked with hers. Blond hair tumbled loosely over his forehead, and as he grinned, an impertinent dimple broke free. She barely registered the square of plastic beneath her toe that he pointed at with his free hand before his fingers slid a fraction higher, and electricity shot through her system. Gasping, Cassie grabbed for his shoulders to keep from toppling over backward.

  …

  Brad Steele sucked in a sharp breath as the leggy brunette braced her weight on his shoulders. The sensual fragrance of exotic flowers and citrus assaulted him far more dangerously than the slender knee that bent just beneath his chin. A few inches more, and he’d be nursing a cracked jaw. What in the hell had possessed him to grab her ankle, as opposed to merely tapping her on the shoulder?

  Her damned legs. He’d taken one look at those long, toned limbs and lost his ability to think. One need dominated: to touch. The credit card he’d dropped seconds before she appeared at the bar posed the perfect opportunity.

  But the blanket of slender curves now draped around him brought his nose a breath away from her thigh, and her
perfume was playing wicked games with his mind. He cocked his head before sheer instinct could override common sense and attempted to disentangle himself enough to look her in the eye. “Sorry. You’re standing on my credit card.”

  She regained her balance, pulled that delectable ankle from his fingers, and set her black stiletto back onto the floor. A soft laugh tumbled off full lips. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  His grin deepened as he picked up his credit card and straightened. Luminous tawny eyes met his, and his gut doubled in on itself all over again. Sweet heaven, where had she come from? One minute he was sipping a vodka martini, wanting nothing else but a full meal after a long flight. The next, she appeared out of nowhere.

  Not a bad prospect for his first night in town. Veil, Colorado, might just prove interesting. At least for the short week he’d be here. Snow and warm hot female would make a week of negotiating with opposing counsel definitely more enjoyable. He eased back into his seat.

  “I didn’t mean to. With the noise…” He shrugged. “What are you drinking?”

  Her gaze tripped down his body, roving over his dress slacks and shirt, which was rumpled from several hours on a plane. The slow perusal, followed by the keen interest in her eyes when she met his gaze again only served to ramp up his rather neglected libido. Yeah, Veil might prove interesting after all. So much more than he’d expected out of this Midwest tourist trap.

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked.

  “Is it the suit?” As the man beside him vacated the bar, Brad leaned an elbow on the polished wood. He crossed an ankle over his knee. “Or the accent?”

  Rich and husky, her laughter caressed him like fine velvet. “Definitely the accent. I deal with suits every day. New York?” She moved into the space in front of him.

  At the same time, the man behind her took a backward step, forcing her to twist sideways. The thin fabric of her black dress brushed Brad’s knuckles. Again, her perfume tickled his nose. He breathed it in, sifting through the fragrances he knew. Jasmine. He couldn’t define the other aromas, but jasmine brought him to his knees every time.

  “Yeah. Manhattan,” he answered, hoarsely. He cleared his throat, nodded at the bartender, and asked again, “What are you drinking?”

  “A glass of Moscato. So what brings you in town?” Mirroring his position, she set her coat on the bar and leaned on it. The ankle she crossed over the leg that held her weight put her thigh shockingly close to fitting between his knees.

  Brad checked himself, torn between taking a step back and moving closer. He didn’t really want to confess work brought him halfway across the country. The last woman he’d casually been with had latched onto his profession, tracked him down at the Blackson and Goodwell law firm, and made things quite uncomfortable for a while. Though he wasn’t keen on lies, he didn’t want to experience that again with an impending promotion to partner on the line. “Just checkin’ out the slopes.”

  Good Lord. He was no stranger to women, by any means, but it had been a long damn time since a few minutes of casual conversation had left him aching to explore curves and softness. But the tightness in his gut and the sudden strain behind his fly couldn’t be ignored.

  A faint frown touched her brow, then quickly cleared. “Oh? How long are you staying?”

  This time, when her gaze roamed over his body, the flicker of attraction became unmistakable. And the interest in her question was impossible to miss. In a heartbeat, he recognized a game of seduction he knew all too well, and he fell easily into the cadence. He shifted so when he brought his arm up to gesture at the bartender, his fingertips grazed her elbow.

  The way she drew her lower lip between her teeth and indecision puckered her brow, however, set his system on red alert. If he barreled forward, she’d run. Instead, he backed off and gave her a casual grin. “I’ll be here through the weekend. Then it’s back to the big city.”

  The bartender moseyed to their position, and Brad ordered another martini along with her wine. He turned back to his stunning companion, picked up her delicate hand, and ran his thumb over her ring finger. “So, if you’re local, why are you out solo on Valentine’s?”

  A tremor ran through her palm, but she didn’t miss a beat. “Better than sitting at home, right?”

  Oh, hell yeah. If she’d stayed at home, he wouldn’t be staring into the most compelling light brown eyes he’d ever seen. For a moment, the stark uniqueness of that chestnut color held him spellbound. He stared, soaking in the warmth of her hand against his, feeling his breath harden with each passing second. Her lips parted. Alongside the elegant column of her neck, her pulse beat strong and quick. Momentary nervousness, however, made her smile waiver, and she once again drew her full lower lip between her teeth. A vision of that softness beneath his mouth wound Brad’s entire body into a frustrated knot.

  “Cash or plastic?”

  The bartender’s voice jerked Brad out of fantasy, and he released her. With his opposite hand, he passed the man his credit card. “Keep it open.” Turning back to her, he gestured at an open bar table in the corner. “Join me?”

  The hesitation that passed across her face made something foreign inside him twist uncomfortably. Surely he hadn’t read her wrong. Dear God, don’t let her refuse.

  With a slight dip of her chin, she let out a breathy, “Yes.”

  Chapter Two

  Cassie slid into the seat, scarcely able to believe she’d accepted the handsome blond’s invitation. She couldn’t really be entertaining the idea of a one night stand with a stranger, could she? This was not the sort of thing a mature, professional, widowed woman would do. Particularly not with a huge meeting tomorrow. This kind of spontaneity could only lead to trouble.

  But damned if the idea of one wicked night, no holds barred, held excitement. He was hot—no other description fit. His broad shoulders hinted at college football days and filled out an expensive suit that had to have been custom-tailored. He exuded an air of assertive confidence. Yet at the same time, the day-old stubble on his face and the impishness of his dimpled grin spoke of a devil-may-care attitude. No doubt he knew exactly what he wanted…and exactly how to get it.

  Moreover, the way his hungry gaze ate her up sparked primal urges of her own. She’d been craving that kind of passion for entirely too long. What could it hurt to indulge?

  It could hurt a lot of things.

  As he moved to stand at her shoulder, he rested one hand casually on the back of her chair. His gaze skipped down the deep V of her neckline. Cassie ordered her conscience to hush and leaned forward a smidgeon, knowing the loose fabric would gap and give him a flash of bare skin beneath.

  At thirty-one, she was tired of pretending she’d died along with Chris in that skiing accident. She had needs, and she could fulfill them with a stranger who’d leave town in a few days. A man who wouldn’t jeopardize her heart again. No commitments, no entanglements, just…fun. Three years had passed, void of fun.

  “So…” Her companion cleared his throat. With effort, he pulled his gaze back to her eyes. “What do you do?” he asked.

  “I’m an attorney.” Cassie flagged the bartender again.

  “Really?” He paused a beat, looked at her as if he considered some deep revelation, then added, “Me, too.” His grin escaped once more. “But let’s keep that between us. Who do you work for?”

  Cassie shook her head. “Let’s not go there, shall we?” Even as the cool words slipped free, she surprised herself by the answer. Lifting her eyebrows, she sucked up her courage and smiled over the rim of her wineglass. “That’s professional. This…” She took a long, slow sip, then finished, “Isn’t.”

  As a slow burn infused her bloodstream, Cassie slid her gaze to her sexy companion. He regarded her noncommittally, but the flare in his vibrant blue eyes made her throat turn dry. The wry crook of one corner of his mouth left no doubt in her mind he’d let her glimpse that spark of desire intentionally. That he was completely aware of
how he affected her.

  “You know, I heard someone say once that lawyers make the best lovers.” He winked, and she had a moment’s hesitation. Was she really going to do this? She stared at his full lips for a beat and realized the truth. A nuclear war wouldn’t stop this from happening.

  The discovery sent chills racing over her skin. She squirmed in her seat. At his husky chuckle, heat touched her cheeks.

  His dimpled grin was nearly her undoing. Her heart tripped erratically. At once, the room was too crowded and much too hot. When she had to sit down with opposing counsel for the entire afternoon tomorrow, too sleepy to keep her eyes open, she was going to hate herself for following through on this. But that darned dimple sealed the deal—no way was she going home alone tonight.

  A thrill raced down Cassie’s spine..

  Yes. I’m doing this.

  Brad shifted position in the chair he’d requisitioned when they found the table a half-hour or so ago. But it was useless—he was so aroused he couldn’t create enough room behind his fly to be remotely comfortable. The woman was fascinating. Their conversation illustrated she was clearly well-educated. Assertive. Yet there was a shyness about her that sucked him in each time it peeked through.

  No. Not shyness, he countered as she lowered her lashes. Submissiveness. Like there was some part of her that naturally deferred to him…and he could tell she wasn’t quite sure she wanted it to.

  He wasn’t quite sure he wanted it to either. That could be dangerous. The kind of dangerous that would make her unforgettable. And he had no intentions of getting sidelined by a woman he couldn’t tuck neatly away into the corner of his mind where pleasant, but altogether uninspiring, memories resided.

  He picked up the bottle of wine and topped her glass off with the last of it. When it was empty, he fully intended to escalate this little tango to the next level. He leaned in close, tucked his fingers into her free hand. “You know, you haven’t told me your name yet.”

  She shook her head, sending her long silken hair spilling over one shoulder. The curled ends cupped her left breast. Bare breast, he amended. She’d bent forward often enough he’d realized there wasn’t a trace of satin or lace beneath.