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I’ll live.” Too drained to hold her head up after the last bout, Cass lay against his thigh and waited for the world to stop spinning. After a while, she became aware of his hand gently caressing her back. To her horror, she noticed the sheet lying on the bedroom floor ten feet away. But she didn’t have enough energy to care that she was wearing nothing but a pair of blue lace panties while she puked in front of Jaime Dalton.
    “I’ll call Sam and postpone that meeting.” He eased out from under her and headed for the door. “Come down when you’re ready. And Cass, I really am sorry.”
    “I know,” she said, but he’d already gone. She wrapped her arms around her breasts and sat on the floor, trying not to think about the tingling sensation his hand caused. Or that despite being hungover and pukey, parts of her body had suddenly decided Jaime Dalton wasn’t such a bad person after all. Then she grabbed her own hair and forgot about Jaime Dalton altogether.
    * * * *
    Dear God, who would have thought that Cass Pendleton, dressed in nothing but a pair of cheeky panties, would have that kind of effect on him? Her skin was so soft, her body sleek and trim, with no tan lines that he could see. Either Cass was naturally a golden honey color, or she tanned in the nude. He stifled a groan when the image of her small but incredibly well-formed breasts taunted him.
    He did not want Cassandra Pendleton! Emphatically, without a doubt the last thing on his mind was getting inside Cass Pendleton’s panties. His dick had somehow missed that memo. He knew the moment she lost the sheet he was a dead man. Following her into the bathroom had been his first mistake; his second was touching her and letting her touch him.
    His thigh tingled where she’d rested her head, and he couldn’t even think about the sensation in his calf when her nipple had grazed him. Oh Lord, he couldn’t think about this. He couldn’t stay in the house knowing she was naked, helpless, and not nearly as mean as she used to be.
    He stepped out into the spring air, and disregarding the storm clouds brewing on the horizon, he dove into the pool still dressed in his workout clothes. The water wasn’t frigid like it would be back home. But it wasn’t warm either, and through the shock of cold coupled with trying to break the Olympic record for number of laps, Jaime finally found some relief from his own stupidity.
    Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe putting Cass on a plane back home would be for the best. She was clearly miserable here. And she hated him. He’d call Mitch up and have him void the contract, give her three months’ severance pay, and send her home. That would be the guilt-free way to go, a win-win scenario for them both.
    On his fifteenth lap, he somehow talked himself out of that. Last night had been fun. More fun than he’d had in a long time. At dinner, she’d ordered a huge steak and a salad and devoured every last bite. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a meal with a woman when he didn’t feel like the poster boy for one or all of the seven deadly sins. After Mitch had left, he’d somehow convinced her to dance with him. Of course, that was after the wine, and two martinis. Cass could move with a grace he’d never imagined. Somehow, he remembered her always dressed in tutus and ballet shoes as a kid. Their paths crossed at McDonalds on the way home from after school activities on many occasions. Maybe that was why she seemed weightless against him.
    Maybe she was just drunk and without her usual inhibitions, and he’d taken advantage of that. Goading her to be someone she wasn’t by pouring alcohol into her. Finally, he knew she’d had enough when she fell against him, her body slick with sweat. Her eyes were alive with a sexuality that, frankly, scared him. She would sleep with him; he knew that even before they left the club. Lord help them both if he took her up on her offer. He brought her home and left