She couldn’t handle it. She wouldn’t tolerate it. She wouldn’t be able to bear the thought that her father had somehow “ordered” Casey to love her.
She wouldn’t play games with Casey, and she wasn’t going to allow her father to step in to fix this for her. Only Casey could fix it and she had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen either.
She had always suspected the fact that she was Captain Rutledge’s daughter had kept Casey away from her for years. If her father intervened, no doubt Casey would feel that pressure to make promises he wouldn’t want to make or keep.
God, she wanted him though.
She almost wanted him—no, loved him—enough to risk it. Enough to almost consider it. She was dying for him and it was all her own stubborn fault for wanting more than he had to give.
And in all the months they had been coming together, not once had Casey suggested that there was more between them than the few nights a month they spent in his bed. He hadn’t asked her out, he hadn’t suggested that their relationship could ever develop into anything more serious. Just as he had never indicated to anyone else that they were together in any way.
And that hurt. As though he were ashamed of her, or too frightened of her father to risk him knowing, which she knew wasn’t the case. Or perhaps he just didn’t want to be a couple with her.
She was tired of it. Each time he touched her, she felt as though he had torn another part of her heart from her chest and carried it away with him. She didn’t want to lose more of her heart. She didn’t want to be in this relationship alone.
“You’re frightened,” her father finally said softly, his head tilting to the side as he regarded her with gentle admonishment.
“Frightened of what?” She couldn’t believe he had said anything so ridiculous or with such fatherly chastisement.
“Of being hurt,” he guessed. “You know, Sheila, I haven’t heard even a whiff of a rumor that you were seeing anyone. That you were interested in anyone. You’ve kept him very well hidden and that makes me wonder if the problems are your fault or your unknown lover’s.”
Her lips thinned. “I’m not telling you who it is.”
He shook his head slowly. “My dear, you wouldn’t have had to tell me, if you weren’t frightened of this man breaking your heart. A woman doesn’t hide something so important as the man she’s in love with, unless there’s something holding her back. Or,” his voice lowered further. “Or, she doesn’t love him at all. And if that’s the case, then I don’t want to know who he is.” He shrugged as though it didn’t matter. “I only want to meet the important ones and this one obviously isn’t important at all.”
At that point, he straightened and moved back to his office without saying anything further, leaving Sheila to stare at his back with narrowed eyes as she wondered at what game he could be playing with her. Her father could be amazingly devious when he wanted information. That was why he made such an efficient commander for the Covert Information Network.
She only wished Casey didn’t matter.
She wished she didn’t miss him with everything inside her; missing him was killing her.
She wished the only thing holding her back was the fear of losing the rest of her heart.
It was the fear of losing so much more than her heart that terrified her.
Because what she was beginning to feel, she felt as though it went much deeper than her heart, went much deeper than any other emotion she had ever felt.
It went clear to her soul.
* * *
Casey sat at the bar tapping his fingers against the gleaming wood. His gaze was locked on the mirror behind the bar, giving him a clear view of the entrance.
The large, cavernous building was nearly at its limit with the threat of a line forming outside once they were forced to close the doors against additional customers. Once customers arrived at the Broken Bar, they seemed to stay until last call. Which made it hard for any additional customers arriving unless the owner, Ethan Cooper, used the one-hour limit he was often forced to set.
The band, positioned along the wall at the center of the room on the opposite side of the building, was belting out another of those sensual slow tunes they were inclined to play. Broken hearts, broken loves, and beer drinkin’ nights. He was damned sick of hearing about it. Every wailing note did nothing but remind him of Sheila and the fact that he’d been waiting on her all day and half the night. He reminded himself of a lovesick teenager.
The door swung open again, but the couple that entered wasn’t Sheila. She should have been here by now. It was her job to pick up the information the team had acquired over the past week. Instead, he was still here waiting on her. It felt like he had been waiting on her all his life.
He glanced at his watch before his gaze lifted to the door once more. Yep, that was him; lovesick teenager.
Sheila knew he didn’t work tonight. Son of a bitch, she always showed up on Tuesday nights. Tuesday nights were theirs. Slow loving and her sensual cries as they drove each other crazy with every kiss, caress, and stroke they could bestow on each other.
Casey tapped his fingers against the wood again, his teeth clenching as a surge of hunger and anger struck at his gut. She wasn’t going to show up. He could feel it. She was avoiding the bar and she was avoiding him and he was damned if he was going to let her get away with
