"Dammit, Austin, I'm like family. You can't have me arrested. I need to
be in the hospital."
"That's up to the courts, not me."
"Please don't do this," Randall begged, his face wet with tears and
sweat.
Austin threw him a disgusted look, his lips curling back.
"Stop grovelling. I'm calling the cops, and there's nothing you can do
to stop me."
Randall's sobs grew louder as Austin punched out the number to the
police station, wondering what the hell he was going to tell Cassie and her parents.
Thanks to him, they had been fucked without so much as a single kiss.
FR1;Thirty-Two Where was Austin?
Of all times for him to be out of reach, Cassie fumed after assessing
the situation. In her estimation, it couldn't have been worse. Yes, it
could.
The man who had tripped on a broken piece of tile and hit the floor face first was not dead, which was a miracle, considering.
he was seventy-five years old. And he was injured.
"Don't worry, my dear," Mrs. Stanfield, his wife, was saying.
"He's going to be all right."
Cassie watched the small, blue-haired woman as she sat in the chair
nearest her husband, who remained sprawled on the floor, a pillow underhis head and a blanket over him. An ambulance was due any moment totransport him to the hospital.
Although his wife spoke with assurance, Cassie saw the concern mirroredin her eyes. Oh, dear Lord, why did this have to happen when both themanager and Austin were gone? The manager was attending a conference inNew Orleans.
And Austin--well, she had no idea where he was.
"I'm so sorry about this, Mrs. Stanfield." Cassie heard the anxious notein her own voice and knew now was not the time to get emotional. For the hotel's sake, she must be cool and calm. But she was angry, damn it. If repairs on the hotel had been done, this accident would not have happened. Where was the ambulance? Cassie peered at her watch. It should have beenhere already Her eyes took in the surroundings. Thank goodness there wasn't muchactivity in the lobby at this hour. What few people passed didn'tlinger, but their gazes registered their curiosity.
"Daddy, you're going to be just fine," Claire Stan- field said to herhusband, who had reached out a hand to her. She leaned over and claspedit tightly.
"Are you-all right?" he asked in a halting, stressed voice.
Mrs. Stanfield smiled, then placed a hand on his forehead, which wasdrenched in perspiration.
"You don't worry about me now, you hear?"
Tears welled up in Cassie's eyes, watching them, their love for oneanother so obvious. She turned away as a pang of despair walloped herupside the head, the mental blow staggering her when she realized why.Austin. That was how she wanted him to look at her.
However, at this moment, she could actually and cheerfully havethrottled him, which was a much more settling thought.
"Mrs. Stanfield, can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?" Cassie wantedto do something, anything, to occupy her hands and mind.
"No, thank you, dear. I'm fine."
"I'm so sorry about this." Cassie said, cutting her eyes toward thedoor.
"Ah, here come the paramedics."
On the heels of the two uniformed men was Austin. She steeled herself to show no reaction.
"What happened?"
The briskness in his voice failed to mask his apprehension. She saw itin his eyes. Suppressed anger was there, as well.
Cassie didn't know how she knew that, but she did. Something had set himoff.
He seemed tense, on edge, as if he were itching to pick a fight. If thatwere the case, then he'd come to the right place. She would be glad toaccommodate him.
"I think the situation speaks for itself." The sarcasm in her tone wasthick, though she was careful to keep her words confined to his earsalone.
His look turned smoldering.
"Is he okay?"
Cassie didn't answer him right off. She was too busy trying not tonotice how his mussed-up appearance, along with the five o'clock shadowon his face, made him more appealing than ever.
"Let us pray," she said, averting her gaze to the paramedics, as they strapped the man on the gurney and wheeled him toward the door.
"I'll go to the hospital with them," Austin said.
Cassie shook her head.
"If one of us has to go, it would be better if I went. Mrs. Stanfield might be more comfortable."
"I can handle her." Austin almost smiled.
"Sweet old ladies are my thing."
"We'll see about that after she slaps a lawsuit " on the hotel."
"She's not going to sue us," he responded with irritating confidence.
"I hope you're right."
"I'll be back as soon as I can."
Cassie stifled a sigh as she watched him join Mrs. Stanfield, who was
walking alongside the stretcher to the doors.
Striding into the hotel at the same moment was Bill Spalding, the architect.
Cassie slapped her forehead in frustration when she remembered she had
an appointment with him, one that she'd forgotten about amidst the
confusion.
"Hello, Bill," she said, holding out her hand and pasting a smile on her lips.
"Ready to go to work?" he asked without preamble.
He was lean and short and had a baby face, which somehow didn't go with
a head that had lost more hair than it had retained. However, his looks weren't what she was interested in.
He was a master at his profession and had already put together some
awesome plans for renovating the Jasmine Hillcrest. Hopefully the cost
would be affordable.
"Let's go to my office," she said, staring around him just as the doors to the ambulance were slammed shut.
Cassie turned back around, and they headed toward the elevators.
"Someone have an accident?" Bill asked when they stepped inside the first one.
"Yes, unfortunately."
"I hope you have good insurance."
"We do." Her tone was clipped; she hoped he would get the message that
she didn't want to discuss the matter with him.
"That's good. You know how people are these days. This country's in a suing frenzy."
"You're sure making my day, Bill."
He looked sheepish.
"Sorry. But I promise I will make your day before it's over. I have a final cost for you, and it's damn fair."