Stress and The City. Stephanie Rowe

      Cassie plopped down on a folding chair and propped her chin on her hands. “The fire department would’ve been impotent.”

      Leo sat down across from her and whistled. “That hot, huh?”

      “If we hadn’t been in a roomful of people, I think it’s very possible I would have thrown him down and torn off that gorgeous suit.” Cassie sighed and leaned on the table. Her body was still tingling where Ty’s hands had held her, and his scent seemed to have settled in the fibers of her sweater. It was almost as blissfully heavenly as Leo’s chocolate concoctions. Cassie had never felt like this with Drew.

      Drew. Now, why did she have to go and ruin a perfectly good moment by thinking of him? Very annoying.

      “That would have been something, to see you throw Ty on the table and rip his clothes off,” Leo said.

      “Speaking of worthy visions, Drew stormed out the emergency exit, with a veritable billow of smoke coming out his ears.”

      As the heat began to subside in Cassie’s body, sense began returning to her brain. An unwelcome phenomenon from both angles. “Good God, Leo. I attacked him.”

      “Yes, you did. Quite brilliant, really.”

      “No, Leo, it’s a bad thing. I made a complete fool of myself in front of the entire town.”

      Leo snorted. “Nonsense. At least half the town isn’t here.”

      Like that made a difference. Cassie moaned and dropped her head to her arms, trying to bury her face in the table. “I’m going back to the Bahamas.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. The man loved it. You could see it all over his face.”

      Cassie lifted her head off the table. “Really?”

      “Yep. Maybe he could be your rebound man. Have a wild fling with him that restores your faith in yourself as a sexual dynamo when it comes to men.”

      “I’m not a sexual dynamo.” A sexual flat tire was a more accurate description.

      “I bet Ty would say you were.”

      “I doubt it.” But a flutter of hope danced in Cassie’s belly at the thought. Wouldn’t that be interesting? As if it would happen. “Besides, I’m not ready for a relationship.”

      “Because Drew burned you.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. I just want to be single. I’m not upset about Drew at all.”

      Leo raised her eyebrow and Cassie lifted her chin. As if she’d ever let Drew win. “I could, however, use a little chocolate.”

      Leo hopped to her feet. “Nothing like chocolate to solve a woman’s problems. After that display, I’m sure you’re in need of some therapy.”

      “It’s going to take the entire dessert table.” And then some. Drew and a wanton display of impropriety all in the same evening? Not a good start to her life as a single woman.

      Not a good start at all.

      IT HAD BEEN LONG ENOUGH. Eight days since she’d returned from her honeymoon unwed. Eight days since she’d sucked face with a hot guy in front of her exfiancé. Eight days for her tan to fade.

      Time to get her business going again. With the wedding approaching and Drew trying to convince her to close up shop so she could play little wifey, she’d been too stressed…ahem…busy to spend much time drumming up new clients.

      Didn’t she look like the smart one now, refusing to listen to Drew and give up her career? What kind of shape would she be in currently if she’d quit her job and had no husband? Oh, and the monstrous bill from the wedding that she’d footed because Drew had insisted that was the bride’s responsibility. Mustn’t forget about that souvenir from the Almost Biggest Mistake of Her Life.

      Cassie tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she peeled around a snowy corner in her trusty Subaru. Maybe Drew had been trying to bankrupt her before the wedding so she would be financially dependent on him.

      Bastard.

      Anyway, she was totally over that, had spent the week cleaning up her office, closing accounts with old clients and opening files with new ones.

      So what if she’d totally forgotten she’d promised to start Malcolm Tyler Parker’s treatment right after she got back from her honeymoon? She was on her way there now, wasn’t she? What was a week, huh?

      Okay, so it was unforgivable that she’d misplaced the file. Fine. She could admit it. Perhaps she’d been a wee bit unsettled by the last month. She was together now.

      Cassie coasted to a stop at a red light and glanced at her watch. Ten minutes to seven. She’d been planning to show up at Mr. Parker’s at exactly seven in the morning.

      Her usual modus operandi for a new client.

      Sure, he’d called her to set up a consultation, saying he was having trouble sleeping. That didn’t mean he’d actually ever tell her what was really going on. That was why she’d developed her strategy with all her new clients.

      Show up unannounced at a bad time to start therapy. The client was always super stressed, and she usually got a very good idea of what she was dealing with.

      There was a reason why she’d been written up in the New York Times as an excellent stress therapist. She was brilliant. How could she feel bad about herself if she kept pumping herself up like this? She couldn’t. Was she smart or what? It was a good thing she was so talented and got her own advice for free, or she’d be an emotional mess. And she wasn’t an emotional mess, if anyone was asking.

      Cassie drummed her fingers impatiently on the dashboard, waiting for the light to change.

      What if her new client had been at the dance and seen her display? It was bad enough she’d shown up at the event dateless, but making out with some stranger in front of everyone? Imagine the damage that could do to her professional reputation…unless she could figure out a way to call it research. Hmm…

      Then again, was heavy-duty lip action with a really gorgeous guy so bad? No doubt everyone was talking about how Drew had stormed out and how Cassie was totally together and emotionally magnificent after such heartbreak.

      It wasn’t as if anyone at the dance knew how close she’d actually come to vomiting all over Drew. Perhaps all was not lost…assuming she decided being known as a roving temptress was better than being known as “the woman who had a nervous breakdown and never recovered.” She could just imagine when she was ninety-two and doddering about town, people pointing to her and saying, “She had such a promising future once and now she just sits home alone picking lint out of her carpet. What a shame. What a shame.”

      Instead, she’d be sauntering down the street at ninety-two with a horde of eager young bucks hoping to get a chance with the town’s sexual dynamo trailing after her.

      A ninety-two-year-old prostitute. Somehow, that just didn’t have quite the ring she was looking for.

      No matter. She’d just avoid men in every capacity and life would be good. Perhaps she should go back to the Bahamas and learn how to run from the giant bugs. Probably be less stressful than sorting out the oh-so-fabulous changes in her life.

      Cassie whacked her forehead as she turned right onto Ridgeway Road. What was she thinking? She wasn’t stressed. She was fine. Fabulous. Wunderbar.

      Perfectly capable of normal everyday things, like noticing what a nice neighborhood she’d just turned into. She frowned. Actually, it was really nice. Like, her dream neighborhood. Old, charming and classically New England. Houses with big wraparound porches, exuding character and personality.

      Then she saw her destination: 153 Ridgeway Road.

      That was it. She was officially in love with this house.

      It was her dream home. Six dormers, three brick chimneys,