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Abigail hadn’t asked her anything, but then again, Cassie wouldn’t expect her to. That would be improper.
    And people in this level of society were all about propriety.
    Cassie wasn’t. She stripped off her windbreaker and tossed it across the bed. A gorgeous four-poster so wide it looked to have been custom made. A bed she would never share, she assured herself, which was a little sad. It looked so much more comfortable than the discount mattress she slept on at home.
    The room looked amazing. Not quite what Cassie would have done with the space, but whoever had decorated had done a nice job. There was a fireplace against one wall, thick plush olive carpet. Curtains covered an entire wall. Curious, Cassie peeked through. Then pulled them open just a few feet. The entire wall, twelve feet tall and possibly thirty feet long, was made of a single pane window. A large bench spanned the distance and the curtains ran the length of the room. She pulled them open further and glanced out.
    She could see the Fort Worth skyline from here. The two large Sands buildings, and the tower where her prom was held. She heaved a sigh as she wondered what Liz and Annie were doing tonight. If they were relaxing.
    Her cell phone hadn’t rung, so she hoped Annie was having a good night. Most weren’t.
    “Beautiful view, isn’t it?”
    Cassie’s heart jumped as she turned toward the sound of Stephen’s voice.
    He stood with his back against the doorjamb and arms crossed. “You can see my other place from here. I thought you would like that one better than this when I first met you. Was I wrong?”
    She shook her head in agreement and turned toward him. The room that had seemed so large just moments ago now shrank around her. He felt intimately close. And alluring. And dangerous.
    “Two bags?” He walked into the room and moved her suitcase up to the bed, unfastened the latch.
    She stepped from the window and put her hand over it before he could open it. “I didn’t think I’d need much more.”
    He laughed. Rich and throaty. “I expected you to pack your apartment, I thought I made that clear.”
    Rolling her eyes, Cassie pulled her suitcases toward her. She hadn’t moved any closer to him. Couldn’t. The idea of sharing a room with this man terrified and electrified her. “I wasn’t certain how much to bring, we didn’t talk about that.”
    “Everything.”
    She rolled her eyes again. “My furniture, my refrigerator, bed, that’s a lot of stuff, Stephen. What would your housekeeper think about all of that? Plus, I told you I had plans. And you only gave me a few hours. How much do you think can be packed in a few hours? When was the last time you moved yourself?”
    “She’d think what I told her,” he said, only answering one of her statements and at the same time moving a step closer.
    She stood her ground. He’d backed her down earlier; she would not back down to him again. “And what is that, exactly?”
    “That my new wife is moving in and we’ll be storing her things until we decide what to keep and what to give away.”
    The soft tan couch in her apartment had been purchased in the first month her bakery turned a profit. As well as the framed prints on her living room wall. They were gifts to herself, reminders of how far she’d come from the days of living on furniture not even good enough to be donated. She would not be giving these things away. “No,” she said.
    His brow arched. “No?”
    Stepping from the bed, she crossed to the window. “You will not be giving my things away. They are mine. I’ve earned them, they will not be given away. We can sublet the apartment if that’s what we have to do to keep your image, but we are not giving my things away.”
    His brow formed a deep crease as he sat in a chair at the end of the bed. “That wasn’t the plan.”
    “Damn your plans, Stephen. This,” she gestured around the room, “wasn’t my plan.”
    His lips pursed and he crossed a leg over the