Sweetest Desires (A Sweetest Day Romance) (17 page)

Chapter 21

The ride home was quiet.

“Katharine did look beautiful tonight, didn’t she?” Cindy said finally. “I see she had implants. I guess the magazines did work after all. How does she like her new plastics?”

“Yes, she did look wonderful.” Either Carson hadn’t heard her latter words or he just chose to ignore them. He pulled into the parking space and turned off the engine.

His eyes moved to Cindy. “You look lovely yourself tonight,” he said, adding out of the clear blue, “Have you ever been head over heels?”

“Well, I—uh—”

“When it happens, you’ll know it.”

Cindy stared at him with yearning as his expression wandered into infinite distance. “Are you in love?” her nervous voice responded, wondering when he was going to open the car door and step outside.

Their eyes connected and he grinned at her with that one-sided grin. “The reason I asked is—well, I’ve been entertaining this intriguing idea.”

Carson’s expression sent chills down her spine. She thought she’d lost him tonight forever, but she was wrong. In spite of Katharine’s glamorous beauty, Carson was about to admit he was in love with her—Cindy.

“She was involved in a relationship with some nerd who was a member of the campus histor
ical society. He was pretty angry with me when I started dating her, but the better man won.” Carson’s lips parted in a wide grin.

His eyes became transfixed, as though he was looking into a mirror of memory, seeing a happier time. She’d never seen his features look that soft.

She gazed into the air, holding her fingers to her lips to keep them from shivering. Her soft whimpering snapped Carson out of his reverie.

“Did I ever tell you that we met at a Christians on Campus meeting? I was—”

“Excuse me.” Cindy got out the car abruptly. She could do nothing except conceal her wrath, turn on her heel, and flounce away.

“Are you all right?” he called from behind her.

“I’ll be all right,” she answered tersely, not caring whether he heard her.

She unlocked the front door with the spare key he’d given her and hurried into the house, going straight to the bathroom. Locking the door, she pounded her fist against the beige wallpaper and burst into tears. “Damn him!” she said, kicking the wast
ebasket in a final spasm of frustration. After a few minutes of wallowing in her pity, she fixed her face and returned to the living room.

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Never felt better in my life,” she said curtly as she sat down on the sofa.

He looked at her. “Is it something I said?”

“Is what something you said?”

“You look as if you’re ready to strangle som
eone—maybe me.”

“Well, I’m not.” She didn’t bother to keep the i
rritation out of her voice.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” She looked at her diamond-studded watch. “I need to get ready for bed.”

“Want to tell me what this is all about?” Carson urged.

She sighed. “Can’t you guess? I’m a poor loser.”

“What? You got mad when I told you about how Katharine and I met?” His voice rose in surprise.

Plopping her back against the sofa, she released a defeated sigh. “I had this wonderful fantasy that you were going to fall madly in love with me.”

She wasn’t going to look at him until he touched her shoulder, and she saw that he wasn’t at all su
rprised of her remark. “But we’re friends, and I’m a married man. You’re a beautiful woman who could have practically any man you choose. So why would you care whether I fall in love with you or not? And when did all this happen, anyway? In Asheville?” His face fell. “I was wrong for what happened in Asheville, and I apologize.”

She couldn’t quite hide her disappointment. “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything from that kiss.” She exhaled a huffy breath. “But anyway, we’re both too tired to talk tonight.”

“No, we need to talk about this now. Why didn’t you tell me earlier? When we were—”

“Why? When?” she mimicked. Her frustration mounted. “This is why and when:” Pretending to be an announcer using an imaginary speaker, she cupped her fist around her mouth and began her cynical monologue. “Cindy Lomax Productions presents . . . True Confessions!” She lowered her hand and began narrating her story. “Several months ago, silly Cindy developed a mad crush on a friend. Her friend ignored her, but silly Cindy continued to pursue him. He invited silly Cindy to live with him. She nearly swooned in his strong, manly arms. He told her he’s in love with someone else—namely, his wife. Silly Cindy retreated to the bathroom, kicked the wast
ebasket. Fadeout, the end. It’s another dumb story. Another sad love song.” She released a hard, defeated breath and rolled her eyeballs toward the ceiling.

He took a seat next to her. She was shivering now with a need to kiss him. He slightly smiled. “No, it’s a nice story, and I’m flattered. Really. But I didn’t invite you to live with me. You invited yourself. And as trite as it may sound right now, you’ll get over me.”

“Oh, here we go again! Why do people always say that?” She gathered enough nerve to look into his face. “You’re the second man I’ve ever been in love with, and you don’t get over your loves!”

“Well, what do you do with them? Kill them?” he teased.

“Don’t put thoughts in my head.” She examined her long nails.

“Careful,” Carson said, eyeing her long, man
icured tips. Be careful. Those are lethal.”

She looked at him sadly. “This is serious.”

“I know it is.” his expression turned somber. “But, look. You’re smart and beautiful. There must be hundreds of guys that want you. I saw how the men swarmed around you this evening in conversation and dance.”

“I don’t want other guys. I want you.” Her voice was soft but direct, and gazing into his eyes made her heart thump against her ribs.

“You’ve gathered every other man’s heart tonight. Why would you want mine?” He smiled again as if he didn’t think the situation was
that
serious.

She gnawed on her upper lip and looked into the air as a tear poured down her cheek.

He reached out and touched her arm. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“I guess you only get lucky in love once in a lifetime,” she conceded. “I believe we should end this discussion. If we continue, we’ll get into an arg
ument. Then you’ll have to apologize to me. Do you really want to waste all that time begging my forgiveness when we could be doing much more enjoyable things?”

He smiled, barely, in spite of his irritation.

Riffling his expression, she replied, “I guess not. Well, I’d better get upstairs before I get hysterical.”

He squeezed her arm softly and said, “Goo
dnight.” He looked almost relieved now at being released from the conversation.

She retreated to her room. She was losing him. She had to think quickly, react quickly. She wasn’t about to give him up that easily. No way, no sir.

* * *

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Carson said, as she entered the kitchen looking puffy eyed. After Cindy’s love confession, he wasn’t comfortable with the li
ving arrangement. “I was just making some espresso. Would you care for a cup?”

Cindy’s head wobbled up and down in answer.

“I suppose we need to talk,” he said, pouring the coffee. He wanted to be careful with his words. The situation was fragile. “I’m feeling pretty bad about last night.”

“Don’t feel bad,” she replied.

“Would you like some amaretto with your coffee?”

“No, thanks.” She took the soup-size cup he e
xtended. “I have a favor to ask.”

He stirred his coffee slowly, unsure how to r
espond. “Sure. What is it?”

“I just wanted to say thank you for a wonderful time yesterday. I want you to forget about last night. I apparently was premature with my divulgence. I’ll get over you. As a matter of fact, I’m over you a
lready. At first, I thought I could accept becoming your mistress. But I don’t want to become your mistress—it’s too complicated, too messy. Those things never work out happily.” She hesitated. “Am I embarrassing you?”

“A little.”

“Well, don’t be embarrassed. You see, I got confused by the way you and Katharine had interacted with each other yesterday. For a moment, I thought you were happy being with me, and I had taken leave of my senses by forgetting you were a married man. I realize you’re only temporarily separated from your wife because you want to re-evaluate yourself, your life. You’ve made it clear you don’t want a divorce from Katharine, but only an interim separation until you can figure out what you need in your marriage to make it better.”

“That’s correct, but uh—”

“No, no. Let me finish,” she insisted. “I also realize I’m not in love with you. That was loneliness talking. I thought about it all night long. I don’t want to become involved with you that way, Carson. And I don’t want to ruin your marriage, our friendship, and have your children and my daughter hating me. I hope you can forgive me for my silly, childish, schoolgirl behavior. As soon as I can find a decent, affordable place, I’m going to move out of here so you won’t feel so pressured and reminded about what took place last night.”

It was as if she’d read his thoughts on how he’d decided to ask her to leave. Things were starting to look up for him: his career accomplishments, his wife’s new look, his resurfaced love and desire for Katharine. He felt foolish for being away from his family for so long. To ease his way back into their lives, he’d have to exercise great wisdom, and he couldn’t afford to let a one-night stand to interfere with his future.

“I love my wife, my family. More than anything else in my life. And I pushed her away because I didn’t have fun with her the way we used to. We didn’t talk the way we used to. Then I found that I had a great deal of fun with you. You listened to me.”

Cindy smiled with apparent understanding. She seemed touched by his last words.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he added. “I know I sent inappropriate signals to you when we were in Asheville. I guess I was just missing Katharine and wishing she was there. But I did have a wonderful time with you and Deanna. I want to remain friends, if that’s still possible. But, if not, I’ll understand.”

“That’s all I wanted to know, Carson—that you still want to be my friend.”

* * *

Cindy kissed his cheek and pulled quickly away, biting her upper lip. She wished urgently, futilely, that Carson were a different kind of man. Less pe
rceptive. Less sensitive. Less honest. The last most of all. She saw the ramifications of what she was doing, what she had yet to do, and she was too honest with herself to say it would all turn out just fine. She saw too many ways it could go wrong, too many people who would never trust her again.

But it wasn’t over by a long shot.

She left the kitchen, confident in the knowledge that whatever she wanted, she went after and usually got.

Chapter 22

Cindy was so engrossed in
her thoughts that it took her a moment to return to the present. She set down her glass and glanced over her shoulder at the man who had spoken her name. He had a peanut butter-colored complexion, a glowing, chubby face, a low fade cut, and chocolate eyes that were sharp with intelligence. He was wearing a khaki jacket over a white dress shirt open at the throat, and he seemed vaguely familiar although she didn’t think she’d met him before. Names and faces had a way of sticking with her, but she was drawing a blank.

“Now that we’ve clarified who I am,” she said, “who might you be?”

“Randy Devlin.” He shifted his beer bottle from right hand to left and stuck out his hand. “PI.”

She swiveled around on the barstool at
Ruby Tuesday
and shook his hand casually. His grasp was firm and confident. “Answer this question: where do you know me from?”

“Nothing mystical or sinister,” he said amiably. “Richard B. Russell High School.”

“Really?” She studied him more closely. “We went to high school together?”

“I was a year behind you, and I had a major crush on you for a while. But you were an older woman, an untouchable. I, on the other hand—” he shrugged with good-natured nonchalance. “I was an overweight geek with glasses and a bad acne problem.” He grinned before taking a swig from his bo
ttle.

She tried to picture the attractive, confident man before her as a plump, pimply-faced adolescent, but other than the round cheeks, it was difficult. “Co
ngratulations,” she said and saluted him with her bottle of Enviga. “It looks as though you’ve overcome those early stumbling blocks and managed to turn into a regular person.”

“Amazing, isn’t it, how life has a way of evening out the odds after high school? Listen, I have a table over there in the corner. I was hoping you might join me.”

“A private eye, you say?” She’d given it some thought. “Why do you want me to join you—so you can pump me for information on a case you’re working on?”

“Now, how would I know you’d be here?”

“Simple. You were following me.”

His grin was back. “I’m just a hired gun and a badge. More like a notetaker and photographer.” He mumbled the last few words, but she heard him plainly.

Without being invited, Randy plopped down on the stool facing Cindy. “Remember Dan Williams?”

Immediately, Dan’s face popped into Cindy’s mind. “Yeah. I remember ol’ Dangerous Dan.”

“Mr. Popularity,” Randy reminisced. “All through high school, he was the ladies’ man. I recall you were just as hot for him as the other girls.”

“Not really,” Cindy said, smiling in spite of he
rself. “But that was a long time ago.”

“Danny-boy was good-looking, and I’m sure he knew it. Those brown eyes and lazy smile must have admitted him to many a set of parted thighs. He must’ve been good at it, too, because scores of girls would line up to prove me right, but personally, I’ve always thought he was a jerk.”

Cindy could hear the jealousy seeping from his words.

“The school’s grapevine was buzzing when it came to who might’ve been receiving his favors.” His brows shot straight up, eyes resting on Cindy’s face as if waiting for a confession from her.

“And you’re conjuring all this up because . . .?”

“No reason. It’s just something I remembered.”

Why did he have to bring up Dan’s name? Cindy thought. The lucky boy to whom she’d so freely given her virginity when they were both sixteen. It had only taken two sexual encounters before Cindy discovered she was pregnant. After Danny denied fatherhood, she’d made up her mind to terminate the pregnancy. Unfortunately for her, abortion wasn’t an option in her household.

Some time during her eleventh week, she misca
rried. By then, she’d accepted her fate as a teenage mother and didn’t know whether to be dismayed over the loss of her baby or encouraged that she could resume her youthful life.

Only two people knew about it beside herself: her mother and Dan, and oh yeah, the third one who’s all-knowing—God. Cindy wasn’t the type to have close friends or confidantes—just acquaintances. When she lost the baby, she’d vowed to take that s
ecret to her grave.

The narrow escape from teenage parenthood had made her more careful, but it didn’t keep her from becoming promiscuous. She’d graduated from high school by the skin of her teeth and managed to finish college by giving sexual favors to a few of the professors. It wasn’t until she’d met Norman that her life had become meaningful. He’d encouraged her to complete graduate school, which had boosted her self-esteem.

Cindy looked up at Randy with a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
That bigmouth!
she thought. How much had Dan told Randy, and who else knew?