Fearsome (41 page)

“Absolutely,” he says to me and then turns to Lauren. “Tell Imogene I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Very good.” Lauren smirks at me before turning on her heel to run downstairs.

“Let’s go freshen up.” I take him by the hand and lead him up to the third floor. When we enter my bedroom I see him look at the bed with a grin. “No. No bed. Shower, and don’t get any ideas.”

“You first. I want to get something for you,” Carson says.

I shrug and take a scalding hot shower, but leave my hair in a ponytail so when I step out of the water it curls up around my head. I wrap a towel around me and go back into my bedroom. Carson is sitting on the bed with only his jeans on, rifling through boxes of photos and discs. He’s not wearing a shirt and his bare feet are crossed at the ankle. It’s a rare vision where he looks vulnerable, as though he’s let a wall down and I’m seeing the real man who is willing to do anything for me.

“What ya got there?” I ask.

“The photos I took of you for Gin. These were in a box in her closet. You must have missed them when Lois was going through the closets with you. The discs are videos of your conferences or whatever I could capture on my phone. Not the best quality, but some are pretty good.”

“Lois must have decided not tell me about them.” I walk over to the bed and lift up one of the photos. It’s a close-up of my roommate Marissa and me. My head is thrown back and I’m laughing exuberantly. I recognize a store window behind my head.

“This is on Bleeker Street,” I say as if that matters.

Carson nods. “That’s one of my favorites. I have a copy of that one, too.”

“You do?” I look more closely at the photo and notice part of someone else in the foreground, someone with red hair. A woman. “How did you take this photo so close to me without me noticing? It looks like you were taking a photo of someone else, but moved the camera slightly to the left of that person to capture me.”

Carson looks at the photo, yet doesn’t elaborate.

“Carson, you were with a woman here. She thought you were taking her photo, right? But you were really taking a photo of me?”

“Yes.”

“Who was the woman? I see she has red hair. It’s Gemma, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.” Carson’s good mood disappears as soon as I say her name.

“Was she your girlfriend?” I have a million questions and I feel myself about to hyperventilate if I don’t slow down.

“No. I dated her a few years ago.”

“She’s the one everyone jokes about you seeing in the city, the mystery girlfriend. Oh God. And now she works with you.”

“That’s not how it is, Jess.”

“Did you sleep with her? I know I probably don’t have a right to ask these kinds of questions since I dated your brother, but fuck if this doesn’t piss me off.” I start crying.

“Jess, I went out with her a few times, but we weren’t serious. Ever.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

“Yes. Once. When I was in the city. Not at my house and it’s been two years.”

“Who was the woman who you met at Mohonk for a date, the night of the storm?”

Carson stands up to hold me.

“No, Carson. Was it Gemma? Is that who you met?”

“Yes. Okay? Yes, I met her for dinner and then I left her so I could be with you.”

“Were you two trying to make it work again? Were you planning on sleeping with her?”

“No.” Carson’s steely eyes look at me. “She may have wanted more, but I told her I wasn’t interested so we talked about business. That’s all that happened.”

Everything about him seems sincere and I want to believe him, but I’ve never felt I could be a match for someone like Gemma or most women.

“I didn’t sleep with her because I’m in love with you. The only reason I met her for dinner was because, maybe I was lonely, but I wasn’t going to sleep with her. I thought I could pass the time talking about business. At that point I was willing to try anything to get my mind off you.”

“But then you hired her. Why her?”

“She’s a good designer and has a good reputation in the business. She’s an asset to the company. Jess, she lives in the city and only works from our shop two days a week. The rest of the time she works from the city and, when she is here, I don’t spend that much time with her. She works with everyone in the shop. I’m not interested in Gemma, other than her business knowledge.”

“But the way she looked at me at your shop. I get it now. She was checking me out like I’m the competition.”

“No, that’s when she realized you’re the one I’m interested in. You’re the mystery woman, at least to my business colleagues and associates. When I walked you around the shop, everyone got that.”

“But she was all over you at the party. You didn’t see the way she was looking at you.”

Carson scoffs and smiles. “Jess, you’re jealous. I like that. But you’re also wrong. We were talking about business at the party.”

“I am jealous.”

“You don’t need to be. I’m only interested in you. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, I think Gemma has been dating someone for the last two months. I think she’s serious about him so she doesn’t have any interest in me.”

“You men are so stupid when it comes to women,” I mutter.

Carson’s mouth curves and I think he wants to laugh. “Do you want me to fire her? Should I tell her I’m in love with a woman who doesn’t want to be my girlfriend, but she’s also jealous of any woman who comes near me? I’ll certainly do that for you if it will put your mind at ease.”

“No, that’s ridiculous and it makes me sound like a moron.” I push him back on the bed and he laughs. “So, you have all these photos, too?”

Carson picks up the photos again and rests his hands, clenching a stack of them on his leg while he looks at me with amusement. “Yes. I gave Gin the copies. I kept all the originals.”

“What did you do with them?”

“They’re on a memory card and I have a shoe box like this with hard copies, but mine are probably more worn out than Gin’s. I looked at them a lot, and then, you moved here so I got to see the real thing.”

I rifle through more photos of myself as I stand in front of him and blush. “Do you remember much about me when I was a kid?”

Carson sighs and smiles. “I remember everything. I was eleven. You used to bust my balls over everything. ‘
Carson, this sandwich has too much peanut butter.
Carson, fill the baby pool with more water. Carson, get out of the pool, your weight displaces too much water! Carson, you’re a meanie! Carson, I’ll marry you if you buy me a red convertible!’”

I am laughing so hard at his impression of a little girl, I think I’ll pee my pants. “I didn’t really say those things.” Although, I know without a doubt I did.

“Yes, you did. You said it so often I couldn’t possibly forget. Gin and your mom gave you a party for your sixth birthday. I got to light the candles on your cake and you actually said,
‘Carson, you have to give me a kiss for each candle. That’s six, in case you didn’t know.’
”

“I did not say that, Carson. You made that one up.”

“Scouts honor.”

“You were never a Boy Scout.”

“Okay, but it’s the truth.”

“So did you give me my six kisses?”

“Yes, I did. On the cheek. Your lips were full of blue frosting.”

“That’s funny. You must have hated me then.”

“You drove me insane, but I thought you were pretty cute.”

“Like a little sister?”

“No, I never thought of you as my sister, I told you that before. It was more like you were the girl who would grow up to be my impossible boss someday. You’d be the CEO,” he says and slaps my rear end.

“That’s cute.” I smile because his grin fills me up with so much promise.

“Can I buy you a red convertible?”

I let out a little gasp at the meaning behind his question and quickly dismiss it. “It’s your turn. Get in the shower.”

While Carson takes a quick shower, I put on a fresh pair of skinny jeans and a flattering black sweater that hugs my slender frame while it also makes me look more curvy and busty than I am. I take out the ponytail holder, fix my hair and brush on a little mascara and lip gloss. I study myself in the dresser mirror and think I look infinitely better than when Carson arrived to see me in my working duds.

When he comes out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, he takes one look at my transformation, strides towards me and plants a leisurely kiss on my mouth.

“No, no.” I push his hands away. I can already see myself as one of those women who have no self-control and drops everything for her irresistible man. I want to get naked again and have him all over my body, which is why we have to get out of my bedroom.

“One more round,” he says, holding my waist and leaving a trail of wet kisses down my neck.

“No, get dressed, please.” I don’t have to beg long before we hear the front doorknocker banging.

“Jesus, that thing is loud,” Carson says. “Are you expecting someone?”

“Yes, the gallery is sending someone over to pick up the rest of my paintings.”

We hear Lauren answer the door and her high-pitched voice carries upstairs as Carson gets dressed.

He follows me downstairs and, when I see Griffin, I feel Carson fill in every breathable space behind me like an ominous presence. I sense his growing heat like he’s protecting his turf.

Griffin is a twenty-three-year-old graduate student who interns for Tom and is one of the few people that likes talking to me about my science background. Griffin dotes on me and happens to be very cute in an academic way with his wire-rimmed glasses and khaki pants. He’s getting his Ph.D. in art history and is wiry and slender. He also doesn’t emit any dangerous pheromones like sexy, hunky Carson. Yet our recent sexcapade is still fresh in Carson’s mind, his head is running low on blood and he can be a big, dumb male. I suppose it’s fitting since I’ve proven that I can be a stupid female on occasion. Carson does the territorial dance as if Griffin is a threat, so he immediately walks in front of me and circles Griffin like he’s Carson’s next meal.

“Carson, this is Griffin,” I introduce, trying to diffuse Carson’s detonation trigger.

“Hello,” Griffin says to a towering Carson and sticks his scrawny hand out. Carson captures his hand with a little too much pressure.

I give Carson my best stare down. “Griffin, the portfolios are over here.” I point to the living room and Griffin follows with Carson inches behind him.

I have ten portfolios stacked on the table with all my recent paintings. Earlier in the week I photographed them and emailed them to Tom so he would know what to expect. He and Griffin have been very supportive of my grunge style paintings with their whimsical and chaotic compositions, so I am immensely grateful that I have this opportunity. I offer to help Griffin carry the cases to the SUV he parked outside, but Carson interjects and insists on helping Griffin. When they return to the house, Griffin is carrying a large tote bag and Carson is carrying a large, flat cardboard box.

“I brought you something. It’s a gift from Tom and me. This has brushes, watercolors, ink; all your favorite brands.” Griffin says hands the bag to me with a big smile. “And that’s more paper. Arches and Fabiano. The one hundred forty pound weight ones are in there, too,” he says, pointing to the cumbersome cardboard Carson is setting against the wall.

“Griffin, that is so nice of you. I’ve been meaning to make a trip in to visit Lee’s and New York Art. You saved me a drive.” I give him a kiss on the cheek. Carson watches me without blinking.

Lauren is about to invite Griffin for dinner, however, I intercept and tell him to be careful on his drive back to the city. Griffin looks a little disappointed to be rushed out of the house, but his smile returns when I tell him I owe him a dinner in the city sometime.

“Well, that was very rude,” Lauren says when we see Griffin get in his SUV. “Why didn’t you invite him in for dinner?”

“Because The Hulk over there looked like he was going to have Griffin for dinner.” I wave my hand in Carson’s direction.

“I didn’t do anything.” Carson scowls.

“You didn’t have to. You were practically breathing fire down the guy’s neck, hovering over him.”

Lauren starts laughing.

“The guy is totally into you. He’s bringing gifts and he drove out here at night so he could get invited in for a drink. That was at least three hundred dollars’ worth of supplies he gave you.” Carson stops and tries to think of more ways to inflame the situation.

“Carson, he’s doing his job. There’s nothing more to it,” I say in a huff.

“Did you see his face when you said you owed him dinner? He’s one of those guys who hear,
‘I owe you a blow job.’
” Carson mimics and crosses his arms.

Lauren can’t contain her laughter. “Dinner is ready,” she says and heads back to the kitchen.

“He did not think that, Carson. You’re being ridiculous and jealous.”

“Sound familiar? I’m only jealous because every guy thinks you’re available. If you were with me, I wouldn’t worry about other men because I’d know that you’re
mine
.”

That shuts me up. I stand back and think for a moment. There’s nothing I can say that hasn’t been repeated to Carson too many times already. I don’t want to drive him away, but I’m not ready to give him the three words he wants. I feel powerful and cruel at the same time.

“I don’t want to argue,” he says, noticing my discomfort. “Let’s go eat Imogene’s dinner and try not to say our trigger words.”

“I agree, but every word seems to be a trigger word for us.”

“I’m going to go eat,” he mutters, raising his arms above his head in defeat, “before I consider doing something else with you.”

“No, wait. You don’t get to have the last word and walk away. I have thought about this a lot and I have something to say.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Carson’s hands clench and open at his sides as he watches me.

“I believe in you, Carson. I do. I screwed up. Anyone in town will tell you that. I shouldn’t have been with Dylan, but I’m not entirely to blame. I do think you’re Mr. Romance. I also think you’re Mr. Take Care of Everyone. But you screwed up big time, too. You like ‘should haves’. Well, you should have been strong enough to stop Dylan and me from going out in the first place.”