But Ca.s.sie didn't wish her father ill. He'd paid for his mistakes; in his late sixties now, he was essentially alone. While she liked to think she'd put all the bitterness behind her, she didn't really have a relationship with him, nor did she seek one. Every so often, Pete made the effort to contact her, but they had nothing in common, nothing to talk about, nothing to share. The conversation typically lasted a few minutes. Invariably Ca.s.sie felt sad afterward.

"I don't want you to a.s.sume I'm the kind of woman who breaks into tears at the drop of a hat. I...It was like seeing myself all those years ago. Like feeling pain so raw it tore my heart out." Her voice quavered and she tried to conceal it by sipping coffee.

"Pain and the memory of pain-which often amounts to the same thing-don't really go away," Simon said. "That's why we have to learn to a.s.similate it."

She nodded.

Simon didn't say anything else for some time. "I believe it would be best if we..."

He stopped speaking, which made Ca.s.sie look at him.

"That kiss," he murmured, shifting his weight.

Seeing Simon ill at ease was so unusual she couldn't help enjoying it, although that was probably unkind of her. At least it was a distraction from her own painful past. "Yes, the kiss."

He frowned. "I want to a.s.sure you I don't make a habit of kissing my clients."

She instinctively recognized that as the truth.

"Weeping women don't generally affect me like that, either. I don't have any excuse and I wish to apologize."

His gaze held hers and she couldn't doubt the sincerity of his words. "I was as much at fault as you," she felt obliged to admit. "I-"

"I will refund your money," he said, cutting her off.

It was what she'd been afraid of. "But why?"

"I stepped over the line. This is the only way I can rectify the...incident."

Ca.s.sie bit her lip. She conceded that the kiss shouldn't have happened. But that wasn't a good reason to ruin everything. "Will I still meet John?" she asked, then held her breath, almost afraid of what he'd say. She was practically gasping for air by the time he replied.

"Considering that I was the one who initiated the...incident, I feel honor-bound to hold up my part of the bargain."

"If that's the case, then that kiss just cost you thirty thousand dollars."

He didn't look any too pleased with himself, but merely shrugged. "So be it. This was a lesson well learned."

"I don't feel I can let you do that." Tempting as it was for Ca.s.sie to accept, fair was fair. She hadn't exactly pushed him away. In fact, she'd welcomed his kiss, welcomed his comfort.

"I am not in the habit of arguing with my clients."

"Or with anyone, it seems."

He blinked as if it took him a moment to comprehend what she'd said. "Or with anyone," he agreed.

She sighed. "I appreciate the offer, Simon, really I do, but you weren't the only one who learned a lesson. How about if we both forget it ever happened and just move forward?"

"Fine," he said curtly. "I would like your promise that you'll never mention our kiss again. Can you do that?"

She nodded. "Yes. Of course."

"Good. I'll undertake to do the same thing."

She mimed zipping her lips closed. "It's gone, forgotten, cast into the deepest part of the ocean." The thought flashed into her mind that the ocean was filled with treasures-treasures no one even knew were there. When it happened, Simon's kiss had felt like treasure, unexpected and...beautiful.

"My plan for the third task is to have you cook Christmas dinner," he reminded her.

Ca.s.sie raised her hand. "Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that."

"What about it?"

She might as well be blunt. "Like I told you before, I don't have the best neighbors."

"What precisely is the problem?"

Ca.s.sie sat up straighter. The Simon she recognized was back. He wasn't interested in listening to any excuses-except that in this instance excuses were necessary. Ca.s.sie couldn't possibly invite her neighbors to Christmas dinner. She didn't really know these people, and what she did know unnerved her.

"Out with it, Ca.s.sie. I don't have all day."

Hiding her smile would have been impossible.

"What's that silly grin for?" he demanded in the gruff voice she'd grown accustomed to.

"You. You're back!"

"I never left."

"But you did," she said. "A few minutes ago, while we were discussing-you know, what we promised never to mention again-you seemed...almost human."

His left brow rose, mocking her. "Almost, you say?"

"Yes-and I rather liked it."

"Don't get used to it."

"Oh, not to worry. I won't." She set her coffee aside and sat on her hands. "Anyway, continue."

"We were discussing your third task."

"I feel you should know that one of my neighbors, Mrs. Mullinex, is a thief."

"She has a police record?"

"I...No, I don't think so. But who knows? Anyone who'd purposely take my newspaper..."

"Your newspaper?"

"Yes, that's what she's been stealing for the last few months." Then, stricken by an attack of conscience, Ca.s.sie went on to explain. "To be honest, Mrs. Mullinex does return it, but she clips out the coupons. Then, a couple of weeks back, she went so far as to take the Sunday edition, and get this-she likes to do the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle. My crossword puzzle." She narrowed her eyes. "I wouldn't have to invite her, would I?"

"Oh, yes."

"And Mr. Oliver?"

"What's wrong with Mr. Oliver?"

Ca.s.sie had no qualms about detailing her other neighbor's faults. "First, he's rude. More than once, Mr. Oliver has deliberately allowed the elevator doors to close on me." She wagged her index finger at Simon. "I'm positive he could see me, too. I saw that gleam in his eyes. The Sunday before last he left me standing there, loaded down with groceries, and he enjoyed it."

"I...see." Once more he seemed unimpressed by her tales of woe.

"Then there's the guy whose condo's next to mine. I don't know his name and I don't want to. He plays his music so loud it shakes my whole kitchen. It's horrible music, too. Rap and heavy metal." She paused. "Now here's the interesting part."

"I can hardly wait."

Simon might be making fun of her, but Ca.s.sie forged on. "I saw him in the hallway for the first time this week. All along I'd a.s.sumed that whoever he was, he must be college age. This guy was old. He had to be sixty if he was a day."

Having laid out her case, Ca.s.sie felt certain that Simon would understand why she wouldn't want to go to all that effort for these people. "So you'll reconsider?" she asked him.

"Reconsider what?"

"Giving me a different third task. Surely even you can see it would be impossible to put on a festive dinner for my neighbors."

"No, after hearing this, I believe the third task will be perfect."

Chapter 11.

Simon says: The perfect neighbor is the one who's never home.

"Y ou mean you won't reconsider?" Ca.s.sie sputtered.

Simon was being totally unreasonable.

"Did you or did you not agree to host this dinner?"

"Well, yes," she admitted with some reluctance, "but that was before I realized I'd be obliged to fly through the air with my underwear showing." A little guilt on his part might not be amiss.

"A small wardrobe malfunction."

He said it with a straight face and Ca.s.sie stared at him, wondering if this was meant to be a joke. "I suppose you could call it that."

"At least you didn't have a television audience."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that makes it better."

"Regardless, you are still required to complete a third task."

Ca.s.sie made a face. "You're a cruel man, Dr. Dodson."

"You were well aware of the conditions of our agreement before you signed the contract. However..."

"Yes?" Hope filled her.

"However, I believe it might be advantageous if you served this dinner prior to Christmas. In other words, not on Christmas Day itself as I originally specified."

"Advantageous how?"

"If you agree to this new stipulation, I'll arrange for you to meet John before the twenty-fifth."

"Oh." Ca.s.sie had her suspicions. "And when did you make this decision?" She wasn't fooled; Simon wanted her gone and on her way to marital bliss so he wouldn't have to deal with her anymore.

"Why the dirty look? I would think you'd be grateful."

"I'd be a whole lot more grateful if I didn't distrust your motives."

Simon watched her steadily. "And what is wrong with my motives?"

Irritated, Ca.s.sie stood. She wasn't sure why his latest suggestion upset her-the opposite should be true. It should thrill her, since she'd be that much closer to meeting John. But it didn't. She walked over to the picture window. "You want me out of your life," she mumbled, her back to him.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to."

"Listen, Ca.s.sie, and this is important. Don't fall in love with me. I'm not good husband material. Furthermore-"

"Oh, please," she snapped. "You're in greater danger of falling for me!"

"Don't flatter yourself." He went into the kitchen with their coffee cups. When he came back, she guessed it was time to leave. Her clue was that he'd put on his coat and scarf.

On the return trip to the mall, there was silence between them, no music, not even the radio. When they arrived, Ca.s.sie told him where to drop her off. Simon pulled up behind her parked car.

"Please let me know when you intend to serve the Christmas meal," he said.

"Can I get back to you?"

He kept his hands on the steering wheel and gazed straight ahead. "Fine. But remember that all three tasks must be completed to my satisfaction. So far, you've done well."

Was that praise? From the high and mighty Simon Dodson? She could hardly believe it. He must have an ulterior motive, no matter how much he claimed otherwise. Although, now that she considered it, he hadn't exactly denied her accusation. "I'll call you later in the week with the date."

"Good. I thought you'd come around."

She opened the pa.s.senger door, then climbed out and banged it shut. "Good," she mimicked. Seeing someone waiting eagerly for her parking s.p.a.ce, Ca.s.sie hurriedly got into her car and backed out.