She nodded, and briskly ushered him out of her office. She looked at her watch. She had meant to work for only an hour but it was almost two-thirty and she hadn't eaten lunch yet. Cassy had made her a tuna salad sandwich on wheat bread. Like everything Cassy made it was usually delicious, but for some reason today it tasted like sand.
Oh, well. So I was wrong. He likes Caitlin. Who doesn't like Caitlin? Everyone in town liked Caitlin, who didn't take books seriously and didn't give lectures on missed library fines and proper care of manuscripts and bore people with talk about old houses and design. Caitlin didn't engender mean nicknames like "Frigid Ingrid," nor did people think she was aloof or strange for having a line of people clamoring for charms and spells. She was just a nice, normal girl, pretty is rather boring, the kind of girl whom Ingrid could never be, had never once been. Somehow, Ingrid regards Caitlin as a digital human Barbie doll. A baby doll that Matt likes and wants to date.
After her tasteless meal Ingrid went back to her documents, determined to give Matt Noble no more thought.
"Come back here, women," Bran growled, pulling Cassy back into bed.
"I'm late for work already, stop." She laughed, trying to put on her shoes on as he nuzzled her neck. His warm hands encircled her waist and she gave up, kicking off her sneakers and letting him pull her back under the covers.
She had refrained from his touch since that night by the fireplace, too ashamed by her thoughts of Killian. She has faked headaches, begged off due to exhaustion. But she knew he would not be denied today. Bran was leaving again that afternoon. The separation would be brief - only a few days in Stockholm this time, for which Cassy was glad.
She didn't think she had it in her to be a foundation widow, and although she understood the good work he was promoting around the globe, she missed him.
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