which meant that like Cassie, she had more pride than sense when it came to accepting help. “You said you were ready to open another shop.”
“I said I wanted to open another shop, I never said I would open another shop. Successful as I’ve been in Chicago, I don’t have the money for that yet.”
“I know. But I do.”
“I’m not taking any more of your money. I just paid back the start-up loan you gave me for the first Bare Essentials.”
“I’m not talking money, per se. I want you to take the building, the old men’s store that Flo inherited from horny old McIntyre.”
“No.”
“Kate.”
“Cassie.”
Cassie had to laugh at Kate’s calm annoyance. “Stop it. I have an ulterior motive.”
“If you want a new toy, all you have to do is ask. We just stocked up.”
“Hey, I still have Mr. Pink that you bought me for Christmas and I just loaded up on batteries, thank you very much.”
Miss Priss leapt back onto the bed, and with one long daring glare, she settled at Cassie’s head.
“If I wake up with a fur ball lodged in my throat, you’re dead meat,” Cassie told the snooty cat. “And you,” she said to her cousin, “will you listen to me for a moment?”
“You got one minute. Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…you’d better hurry.”
“Should have been a comic, Kate. Listen, I want you to have the building because it feels right. I don’t know what to do with it, and it’s just sitting there going to waste. Besides, it’s right downtown. Right smack in the middle of downtown…are you following me here?”
“Let me see if I am…you see Bare Essentials, basically a very naughty ladies’ store—”
“One which sells a most excellent dildo, I might add.”
“Thank you. You see Bare Essentials fitting right in with the Rose Café and the five-and-dime.”
“Why not? This town could use some spice.”
“More than having their wild child come home?”
“Hey, they made me this way. Come on, say yes. It’s on our lists of things to do…”
“Cassie.” Kate laughed. “Those lists were written by bitter teenagers.”
“So?”
“So…it’s not that easy. I was just there, I don’t want to move back to that place any more than you want to be there.”
Cassie flopped back on the bed and stared at herself in the ceiling mirror. Her agent had cleared her schedule for the entire summer and it was only early June. The police and her friends had convinced her that a low profile would be best.
She knew that to be true. No matter her outwardly brave facade and joking, cynical manner, she hated the fear, the terror. Because of it, she sat in Pleasantville with no one but a mean old cat for company and nothing to do but pay her moving violations.
Oh, and stare at the sheriff’s ass. It was a mighty fine ass, but that simply wasn’t enough. Especially since he wasn’t so much as slightly interested in her.
How long had it been since a man hadn’t fallen in a pool of saliva at her feet? Didn’t matter; unlike her mother, she had no need for a man to fall all over her.
“Cassie?”
“I’ll get the shop going for you,” she said rashly. “Come on, Kate. Opening a porn shop in Pleasantville. It doesn’t get better than that.”
“Bare Essentials, which is doing exceptionally well by the way, is not a porn shop.” Kate sniffed.
“I know that. But everyone here will think it is.” Glee leapt wildly within her. This idea just got better and better the more she thought about it. “This is inspired, truly inspired. I can keep myself from going crazy and—”
“Oh, honey. You are going crazy, I knew it. Maybe I should come back—”
“—and I can shock this mean-spirited old town while doing it. Mrs. McIntyre. Mrs. Wilkens. All of them. No, don’t you dare come back. Unless of course, you want to. I can do this. I want to do this.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I can’t just sit here and hide, Kate. I just can’t. Otherwise every shadow, every little thing, makes me jump.”
“Have you informed the sheriff about why you’re really there?”
“Of course not. I’m fine. I just need to do something and this is perfect. What do you say?”
“You can’t just give me the building. If we do this, it’s as a team. And, damn, revenge on that godforsaken town sounds really good. Too good.”
Cassie knew she had her. And if she did so in part because Kate was worried about her, then she was willing to play that card, because though she’d eat a stick before admitting it, she was worried about herself, too. “So then…?”
“Yes,” Kate said. “Yes, let’s do it. Partners?”
“Partners,” Cassie vowed.
* * *
ONE WEEK—and another ticket—later, Cassie was still jerking awake at night, certain her stalker had found her. Just last night she’d opened her mouth to scream at the weight holding her down, only to find Miss Priss sitting on her chest. The cat she could handle.
She had also handled the town—by snubbing her nose every morning at her fellow shop owners on Magnolia Street. Specifically, anyone and everyone going in and out of the Tea Room right next door, most of the waitresses at the Rose Café, and anyone else who stopped to point and whisper.
This didn’t include the Downtown Deli across the street, mostly because the deli was new, and therefore the legend of Cassie Tremaine didn’t live there. And also because Cassie had discovered a weakness for pastrami on rye, along with the thirtysomething owners Diane and Will. Silly Diane and Will, they actually seemed to like her.
Cassie’s building had been cleared of old debris and cleaned. They still had to paint, refloor and decorate, but that was the fun part. Since she was the one in town at the moment, she would handle most of that, happily. She loved to decorate and organize, and loved to paint. Which was a good thing, as Kate was notoriously bad at it, and was never offered a paintbrush.
She and Kate had spent hours teleconferencing over the stock for the store, with Kate sending naughty sample after naughty sample. The UPS girl, a very cute little thing named Daisy—only in Pleasantville—had continuously asked what was in all the boxes she kept delivering. When Cassie had finally broken down and told her—Daisy was simply too sweet for both this town and its gossip mill—Daisy had nearly swallowed her tongue.
In spite of it all, or maybe because of it, Cassie felt like a little girl at Christmas. One night, during a wicked early summer storm, she sat in the deserted building, surrounded by boxes and Miss Priss.
The cat hadn’t relented—she still hated Cassie—but she refused to be left home alone. If Cassie did leave her at the house, she paid for the mistake dearly as Miss Priss wasn’t above leaving “deposits” to show her annoyance. Yesterday it had been in her slipper, which Cassie had unfortunately put her foot into, so she’d caved like a cheap suitcase and took the damn cat wherever she went.
Rain beat against the windows of the building, while thunder and lightning beat the sky. She’d lost power about thirty minutes ago, but undeterred, she’d lit a lantern. In her mind’s eye, she could see the store, envision the displays, the music, the lights—everything laid out the way she and Kate had planned—and the work was so therapeutic, she