Bride Quartet Collection (22 page)

The knock on the door struck her with such profound relief she actually shuddered. Parker, she thought. Thank God. What she needed now were the superpowers of Organizer Girl.

Eyes crazed, hair sticking up in spikes, she wrenched open the door. “Parker—oh. Oh. Of course. Perfect.”

“You wouldn’t answer your phone. I know you’re upset,” Carter continued. “If you’d just let me come in, just for a few minutes, to explain.”

“Sure.” She threw up her hands. “Why not. It just caps it off. Let’s have a drink.”

“I don’t want a drink.”

“Right. Driving.” She waved her hands in the air as she stomped toward the kitchen. “I’m not driving.” She slapped a bottle of wine on the counter, got out a corkscrew. “What? No date tonight?”

“Mackensie.”

Somehow, she thought as she attacked the cork, he managed to make her name an apology, and a mild scold. The guy had skills.

“I know how it might have looked. Probably looked. How it looked.” He stepped to the other side of the counter. “But it wasn’t. Corrine . . . Let me do that,” he said as she struggled with the cork.

She simply shot a finger at him.

“She just dropped by. Came over.”

“Let me tell you something.” She braced the bottle between her knees, raging as she yanked on the corkscrew. “Just because we had a fight, just because I felt I needed to set some reasonable boundaries, doesn’t mean you get to entertain your mysterious, sexy ex five minutes later.”

“I wasn’t. She isn’t. Damn it,” he growled, and reached down to grab the bottle from her just as she managed to release the cork.

Her fist caught him square on the chin. The force knocked him back a full step.

“Feel better now?”

“I didn’t mean . . . Your face got in the way.” Setting the wine on the counter, she pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle the sudden laughter she feared might reach toward hysteria. “Oh God, it just gets more ridiculous.”

“Can we sit down?”

She shook her head, walked to the window. “I don’t sit down when I’m worked up. I don’t have calm, reasonable discussions.”

“So you think the second part is news to me? You left. You just ran off without giving me the chance to explain the situation.”

“Here’s one level. You’re a free agent. We didn’t agree, or even discuss, exclusivity.”

“I assumed it was understood. We’re sleeping together. Whatever the boundaries you may want, I’m with you. Only you. I expect the same. If that makes me traditional and priggish, it can’t be helped.”

She turned back to him. “Priggish. Not a term you hear every day. And it doesn’t, Carter. It doesn’t make you priggish. It makes you decent. I’m trying to tell you that, on one level, I had absolutely no right to be upset. But that level is mostly bullshit. The other level is we had a disagreement, and when I came over to try to work it out with you, you were with her.”

“I wasn’t with her. She was there.”

“She was there. You were pouring her wine. You gave her my wine.”

“I didn’t give her your wine.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“I didn’t give her any wine. There was no wine involved. I told her she had to go. I made her cry.” Remembering, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I sent her away in tears, and you wouldn’t answer your phone. If you’d only waited, if you’d come in, given me a chance—”

“You made polite introductions.”

He stopped, frowned at her. “I . . . yes.”

“I nearly beat you to death with the damn bottle of wine for that. Oh, hello, Mac, this is the woman I lived with for nearly a damn year who I’m so careful to tell you as little as possible about. And she’s standing there with her cleavage and perfect hair purring to you about pouring her a nice glass of the wine the idiot brought over.”

“I—”

“Not to mention the fact that we’d already met just a couple hours before in the shoe department at Nordstrom.”

“Who? What? When?”

“Your mutual friend what’s-her-name already made the introductions while she and your ex were in
my
shoe department during
my
shoe therapy session.”

Even the thought of it had Mac hitting the red zone. “And her with her damn red peep-toe pumps and single sarcastically lifted eyebrow as she checks
me
out. And smirks.” She jabbed a finger at him. “
Smirks
with her perfectly sculpted lips. But I let it go, screw her and her attitude. I was going to buy my fabulous blue boots, and the adorable silver slingbacks, a really good bottle of wine to take to your place—after I stopped by the MAC counter for a new eyeliner, and got buffed up a little because I wanted to look good when I went to see you. Especially after I got a load of her. Then there was this great DKNY jacket, and cashmere was on sale. Which is why I’m going Zen. Well, that’s partially because of the tow truck and emotional turmoil, but that’s the root of it.”

Shell-shocked, Carter let out a long breath. “I’ve changed my mind. Could I have a glass of wine?”

“And I don’t know how you could think for one minute that I’d stick around,” she continued as she reached for a wineglass. “What? You expect me to go head-to-head with her. Have a slugfest?”

“No, that was Bob.”

“If you’d had possession of the single brain men seem to pass around among them, you’d have introduced me to her—as the woman you’re involved with. Not like I was just some delivery girl.”

“You’re absolutely right. I mishandled it. My only excuse is I was completely out of my depth. Everything was confused and inexplicable, and I’d burned the grilled cheese sandwich.”

“You made her a
sandwich
?”

“No. No. I made myself a sandwich. Or I was making one when she came over, and I forgot I had the pan on the stove because she . . .” As it occurred to him mentioning what happened between Corrine’s arrival and the burned sandwich wasn’t a particularly good idea, he took a long drink of wine. “Interrupted. In any case, do I understand you ran into Corrine and Stephanie Gorden while you were shopping?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Somewhere in there,” he mumbled. “I see. That certainly explains . . .” Boggy ground again, he realized. “Can I just say, bottom line, I didn’t want her there. I wanted you. I want you. I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t pull out the love area when I’m having a crisis. Do you want to make me more crazed?”

“Is that actually possible? But no, I really don’t.”

“She had on seduction wear.”

“I’m sorry? What?”

“Don’t think I don’t know why she ‘dropped by.’ She takes a look at me and thinks,
pfft
, as if I can’t outgun that one, puts on the seduction wear and comes over. She came on to you, don’t deny it.”

His shoulders wanted to hunch. He had to make a genuine and physical effort to straighten them. “I was making a sandwich. Doesn’t that count for anything? I was making a sandwich and thinking about you. How could I possibly expect or prepare for her to come over and kiss me?”

“She
kissed
you?”

“Oh God. I should’ve bought the shiny thing. She just—it all caught me off guard.”

“And you got a really big stick to defend yourself from her unwelcome advances?”

“I didn’t—Are you jealous? Seriously jealous over this?”

She folded her arms. “Apparently. And don’t take that as a compliment.”

“Sorry, I can’t seem to help it.” He smiled. “She means nothing to me. I thought of you the whole time.”

“Very funny.” She picked up his wine, took a sip. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.”

She seared him with a glance. “Do you know nothing? Do you need Bob’s list to tell you you’re supposed to say something like she’s nothing compared to you?”

“She’s not. She never was.”

“Please. Bee-stung lipped, sloe-eyed D cup.” She took another sip, pushed the wine back to him. “I know it’s shallow for me to hate her for her looks, but I don’t have much else. And they’re a lot. I get she caught you off guard. But the fact is, Carter, she blindsided me. Both times. All I know is you had a serious, live-together relationship with this woman, and she broke it off. You didn’t, she did. You loved her, and she hurt you.”

“I didn’t love her. And the hurt? I suppose it’s relative to the circumstances. I realize I’ve made this more complicated, and more important, because I’ve avoided talking about it. It’s not my finest hour. I met her at a party at the Gordens. The mutual friends. I hadn’t been back long, just a few months. We started seeing each other, casually at first. Then, ah, more seriously.”

“You started sleeping together. I’m on to your semantics, Professor.”

“Hmmm. She thought I’d eventually go back to Yale, and couldn’t understand why I wanted to teach here, to be here. But that was a small, subtle thing initially. Living together just, well, it just sort of happened.”

“How does that just sort of happen?”

“She was moving to a new place. A bigger apartment. Something fell through there, I can’t remember the details. Exactly. But she’d already given notice where she lived, and had to move out. I had all that room, and it was only going to be for a few weeks, maybe a month. Until she found another place. And somehow . . .”

“She never found another place.”

“I let it happen. It was nice, having someone there to have dinner with, or go out to dinner with. We went out to dinner quite a bit now that I think about it. I liked the company, having someone to come home to. The regular sex. And apparently I do need Cyrano.”

“Everyone likes regular sex.”

“I thought about asking her to marry me. Then I realized I was thinking about it because it was expected. Everyone just assumed . . . Then I felt guilty because I didn’t want to ask her to marry me. I was living with her, sleeping with her, paying the bills, doing—”

Like a traffic cop, Mac threw up her hand. “You paid her bills?”

He shrugged. “Initially she was trying to save for her own place, then . . . It got to be a habit. What I mean to say is we were living together very much like a married couple, and I didn’t love her. I wanted to. She must have felt it, and I could see she wasn’t completely happy. She went out more. Why should she be stuck at home when I was buried in books and papers? She realized I wasn’t going to be what she wanted, or give her what she wanted, so she found someone else.”

He stared at the wineglass on the counter. “I might not have loved her, but it’s painful, and it’s humiliating to be cast off for someone else. To be cheated on. She had an affair, to which I was oblivious. Which I wouldn’t have been, admittedly, if I’d been paying more attention to her. She left me for him, and while it was hurtful, and embarrassing, it was also a relief.”

Mac took a moment to absorb. “Let me just sum all that up, take it down to its basic formula. Because it’s one I know very well. She maneuvered you into providing her with housing—for which she paid nothing.”

“I could hardly ask her for rent.”

“She shared none of the household expenses, and in fact sweet-talked you into fronting her for her expenses. You probably lent her cash from time to time. You’ll never see that again. You bought her things—clothes, jewelry. If you balked, she used tears or sex to smooth that out and get what she was after.”

“Well, I suppose, but—”

“Let me finish it out. When she got tired of it, or saw something shinier, she lied, cheated, betrayed, then laid it all out as your fault for not caring enough. Would that be about right?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t factor in—”

Mac held up her hand again. “She’s Linda. She’s . . . Corrinda. She’s the same model as my mother, just a younger version. I’ve lived my entire life in that cycle, except for the sex. And I know it’s easier to see the cycle from outside it. You and me, Carter, we’re a couple of patsies. Worse, we let them convince us we’re at fault for their selfish, demeaning behavior. If I’d known all this I wouldn’t have . . . yes, I would. I’d have reacted exactly the same way because it’s knee-jerk. It’s the Linda factor.”

“That doesn’t erase the fact that I helped create the situation, and let it continue when I didn’t love her.”

“I love my mother. God knows why, but I do. Under the seething resentment, the frustration and rage, I love her. And I know that under the selfish, abusive whininess, she—in her strange Linda way—loves me. Or, at least, I like to think so. But we’ll never have a healthy relationship. We’ll never have what I want. It’s not my fault. Corrinda—as she will now and forever be to me—wasn’t yours.”

“I wish I hadn’t let it hurt you, what happened. I wish I’d handled it better.”

“Next time we run into her, you can introduce me properly as the woman you’re involved with.”

“Are we?” Those quiet blue eyes looked into hers. “Involved?”

“Is that going to be enough? Can you understand I’m trying to deal with the fact my emotional closet is cluttered, disorganized, and messy? That I don’t know how long it might take me to sort it out?”

“I’m in love with you. That doesn’t mean I want you to be with me, stay with me because you think it’s expected. I want to be here when you sort it out, while you sort it out. I want to know it’s truth when you tell me you love me.”

“If I do, if I’m able to say that to you, it’ll be the first time I’ve ever said it to a man. And it’ll be the truth.”

“I know.” He took her hand, kissed it. “I can wait.”

“This has been the strangest week.” She brought their joined hands to her cheek. It felt right, she realized. It felt right to have him there with her. “I think we should go upstairs and finish making up.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

S
HE KISSED HIM ON THE STAIRS AND FELT THE LONG DAY SETTLE into place. “No wonder we’re attracted to each other.” She snuggled in briefly before taking his hand to continue up. “We both carry the patsy gene. It’s probably like a pheromone.”

“Speak for yourself. I prefer thinking of it as being considerate by nature and thinking the best of others.”

“Yeah. Patsy.” She laughed up at him, then jerked to a halt when she saw stupefied shock rush over his face. “What? What’s the—Oh God. Oh my God.”

She stood, as he was, staring at the tornado debris of her room. “I forgot. I . . . forgot to tell you I’m actually an international spy, a double agent. And my arch nemesis broke in earlier to search for the secret code. There was a terrible battle.”

“I’d like to believe that.”

“It’s Zen.”

“Your arch nemesis?”

“No. No, the ultimate goal. Look, just go downstairs until I stuff all this back. It won’t take that long.”

“It’s a small department store,” Carter said with some wonder. “It’s a boutique.”

“Yes, for the temporarily insane.” She hauled up an armful of clothes. “Really, give me ten minutes. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“I applaud your optimism. Mackensie, I’m sorry what happened upset you this much.”

“How did you—”

“I have two sisters and a mother. I recognize the signs of an angry cleaning spree.”

“Oh.” She dumped the armload back on the sofa. “I forgot you have knowledge of the basic framework.”

“I’ll help you put everything back. Somewhere. Since I was part of the problem.”

“No. Yes. I mean, yes, you were part of the problem. Like the tip of the iceberg. But under the surface was the really massive . . . rest of the iceberg,” she decided. “Like
Titanic
’s. You know from my mother’s mortifying visit up to Corrinda—”

“You’re really going to keep calling her that?”

“Yes. Anyway, you know that part of it, but what set this off, the last twitch of the finger on the trigger circles back to Linda.”

She walked to the bed this time, took an armload. “She didn’t bring my car back. And, because she didn’t want to bring my car back, as that would have entailed bringing herself back when she was having a good time in New York, she didn’t answer her phone.”

She turned after hanging up the load and turned to find him behind her with another. “Thanks. She also neglected to leave me the keys to hers, so I couldn’t have used it if I’d wanted to. By yesterday morning I was ready to do murder, but then I had a pep talk from Laurel—who takes no crap from anyone. I so admire that in her. After that, I had my mother’s car towed to this garage, this mechanic’s place.”

“That was brilliant. Appropriate consequences for inappropriate behavior.”

“That sounds so Dr. Maguire. Appropriate maybe, but it’s mean, too, especially since the guy knows Del and agreed to charge Linda for the towing and the storage.”

“I take it, since your car’s out front, she finally brought it back. She’d have been furious about hers being towed.”

“And then some. It was ugly. Very ugly, during which I learned even when you stand your ground, do what’s right, it hurts. A fist in the face, you could say,” she added with a small smile for him. “And skipping over the details, I ended by calling her a cab and locking her out of the house.”

“Good. She’ll think twice before pulling something like that again.”

“There’s that optimism. It’s so shiny. She never thinks twice, Carter. It’s going to take a lot more of the same before we’re done. It’s on me to do it. To keep doing it, and to keep taking that fist in the face without giving ground.”

“But you will.”

“I have to. Anyway, I decided to work off the upset by cleaning up my mess. I made a bigger one first, but with the goal of decluttering and restructuring. Which became symbolic for tossing out old habits and mind-sets. So . . .”

She broke off as she turned with another armload and caught sight of herself in the mirror. “Oh Jesus, Jesus, I look like I escaped from the institution for the terminally sloppy and unkempt. Couldn’t you have told me my hair looked like a couple of cats fought in it?”

“I like your hair.”

She raked her fingers through it. “You know, this is just one more world of irritating. I looked really good the night I came by your place. Those MAC girls know their stuff. Plus I sprang for La Perla, and I was wearing it. My credit card had a minor stroke, but now that we landed the Seaman job, it’ll recover nicely. Still, I—”

“You got the job?” He picked her off her feet, gave her a quick spin. “That’s—damn it.”

“Almost the reaction I might’ve expected.”

“I bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate with you when you got the job. I didn’t bring it with me.”

“You bought champagne to celebrate with me.” She could all but feel her pupils take the shape of hearts as she stared at him. “You’re the sweetest man.”

“We’ll celebrate tomorrow.”

“Event tomorrow night.”

“First chance then. Congratulations. This is major.”

“Majorly major, to be redundant about it. Event of the year, and it’s going to test all our skills, push us to develop new ones.”

“You must . . . What’s La Perla?”

Her smile spread slowly. “Ah, so two sisters and a mother haven’t taught you everything about the female. You still have a few things to learn, Professor. Go downstairs.”

“I don’t want to go downstairs.” He lowered his head to nibble at her lips. “I’ve missed you. Missed your face. Missed touching you. Look how we cleaned a spot off the bed. It looks just big enough.”

“Downstairs.” She pressed a finger at his chest, pushed him back. “I’ll tell you when to come back up. You’ll thank me.”

“Why don’t I just thank you now and—”

“Out.”

She gave him a shove.

He paced the studio, studied her photographs, poked at bridal magazines. He wondered what the term was for what was running around inside him, this intense joy and ragged impatience. Mackensie was upstairs, and that was wonderful. Mackensie was upstairs, and he wasn’t. That was making him crazy.

He wandered to the door to make sure it was locked, wondering if he should take up the wine. He didn’t want any, but she—

“Why don’t you come on up?”

Thank God, he thought, and left the wine where it was.

He saw from the shadows and flickering light that she’d lit candles. The faintest scent drifted through the air, alluringly. He should have brought the wine, he realized.

Then, when he stepped into the bedroom, his heart stopped.

In the shifting shadows, the golden light, in the drifting scent she lay on the bed, turned toward him, her head propped on her elbow. She’d done something to her hair, something sleek, and darkened her lips and eyes to exotic. And on her long, lovely body were wisps and whirls of tiny black lace.

“This,” she said, sweeping her free hand along her side, “is La Perla.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

She crooked a finger. “Why don’t you come over here and take a closer look.”

He walked to her. “You take my breath away.”

He sat, ran his hand over her side, cruising the curves. “You were wearing this the other night?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“If I’d known, you’d never have made it to the car.”

“Really? Why don’t you demonstrate what you’d have done, had you but known.”

He leaned down, touched his lips to hers for one shimmering moment. Then devoured. Instant need, wild and wicked urgency lashed him, whipping for speed. He swallowed her muffled gasp and demanded more.

Arousal, longing, love rampaged inside him, snarling into a desperate greed for her mouth under his, her body under his. The taste of her, just the first taste, sparked the fire in the blood.

While his mouth conquered, his hands plundered.

Her body exploded under his, arching, writhing as she dragged at his shirt. She pulled it up, nails scraping flesh in her rush, and over his head to heave it away. She rolled with him, her breath sobbing as they wrapped together, as they sought each other. Sought darker, deeper pleasure that slicked the skin, racked the heart.

Touch, taste, possess.

To be wanted like this, needed like this—to want and need in return—seemed impossible to her. It was like being burned alive, feeling every inch, to be aware of every inch of her body while it blazed. While he consumed.

He rolled her over on her back, jerked her hips up. And drove himself into her. She couldn’t find the breath to scream.

Stunned, staggered, helpless, she flailed for purchase, and her hands clutched the tangled sheets as she might a lifeline. His clamped over them, wrenched her arms over her head. He plunged into her, again, again. A hard, primal beat that propelled them both to the edge, and over.

When he collapsed on her, their hands remained clasped. While the candlelight flickered over the damp tangle of them, he turned his head. And gave her a kiss of exquisite tenderness.

She lay as she was, steeped in a kind of wonder.

“I was rough,” he murmured. “Did I—”

“You know what?” she interrupted, smiling in the flickering dark. “I’m going back to Nordstrom. I’m going to buy out their entire stock of La Perla. Whatever they’ve got in my size will be mine. I’m never wearing anything else.”

“While you’re out, maybe you could pick up some vitamins. A whole lot of vitamins. And minerals.”

She laughed, rolling to her side as he rolled to his, so they were nose to nose. “You have such quiet eyes. No one would ever know you’re an animal in bed.”

“You have this body that makes me want it. Are you cold?”

“Not now, possibly never again. Can you stay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I owe you some scrambled eggs.”

E
MMALINE STOOD WITH HER HANDS ON HER HIPS IN THE MIDDLE of the disaster now known as Mac’s bedroom. “I had no idea, no idea that you and Carter were such sex monkeys.”

“We are. But I have to cop to doing this all by myself.”

“Which begs the question: Why?”

“I’m organizing.”

“In this world, organizing generally means putting things in place.”

“Which will come. Do you want this purse? I never use this purse.”

Emma stepped around and through the hillocks of clothes and accessories to take the brown flap bag. “This color looks like dried poop. Maybe you don’t use it because it’s ugly.”

“It really is. I don’t know what I was thinking that day. Toss it in discard. That pile,” she added, gesturing.

Moving over, Emma dropped the bag. “You’re getting rid of these shoes.”

Mac glanced over as Emma examined one of the pair of sky-high lime green pumps. “They kill my feet. I get blisters every time I wear them.”

“They’re really great shoes.”

“I know, but I never wear them because of the blister element.” Mac shook her head at the gleam in Emma’s eyes. “They won’t fit you.”

“I know. It’s just not fair that Laurel and Parker wear the same size, and you and I are the odd men out. It’s injustice.” With the shoe still in hand, she turned a little circle. “How do you and Carter have sex in here?”

“We manage. Mostly I’ve been going over to his place just lately, but that’s really because when he sees this he wants to help. You can’t have a man involved in closet and dresser organizing. He started counting my shoes.”

“They never understand the shoes.”

“Speaking of which, put those back in the keep pile—over there. They’re too fabulous to toss. I’ll wear them when I’m going to sit down a lot.”

“Much better idea.”

“See, this he would never get. And he’d get that thoughtful furrow between his eyebrows.”

“So, other than thoughtful furrows, you two are doing good?”

“We’re doing great. Close to perfect. I don’t know why I got all twisted up and crazed about it. What about this shirt? It’s a lot like this shirt. I should get rid of one of them, but which?”

Emma studied the two black camp shirts. “They’re black. There’s no limit on black shirts. They’re wardrobe basics.”

“See. That’s why I asked you to come by.”

“You really need Parker in here, Mac. You said you started this on Thursday. Last Thursday.”

“Parker can’t come in here. She’d take one look, and her nervous system would implode. She’d be in a coma for months. I wouldn’t do that to her. And I ordered stuff. Shoe boxes, hangers, and this thing with all these hooks on it for hanging bags or belts. I think. I looked at closet organizers, but I found them confusing. Plus I’m tossing twenty-five percent. It was going to be fifty, but that was before I came to my senses.”

“But you’ve been at it for nearly a week.”

“I haven’t had that much time for it, between work and Carter, and my strange reluctance to come up here at all. But I’m going to stick with it tonight.”

“You’re not seeing Carter?”

“Parent-teacher deal at the academy. Besides, we don’t see each other every night.”

“Right. Only on the ones that end with Y. You look happy. He makes you happy.”

“He does. There was this little thing.”

“Oh-oh.”

“No, just a little thing. He said I might want to keep some things there. Some of my things.”