The Marriage List (7 page)

"I agree." He went to work on the bottle of
cabernet sauvignon he brought.

"Did you decorate your own place?"

He shook his head. "I hired help. I didn't
know where to begin," he said, embarrassed.

A timer went off in the kitchen, calling
Carrie before she had a chance to respond. He noticed the round
table romantically set for two and the French doors with gauzy
white curtains. There was a straw rug, early American lamps, two
throw pillows and some small pieces of art on the white marble
mantle. A narrow credenza fit behind one of the sofas and held a
beautiful basket filled with fruit. There was a small bowl of nuts
on the cobbler's bench. He never expected to see such an enchanting
apartment when she opened the door. He glanced down the short
hallway toward the bedroom.

"Off limits for now…" she said, her eyes
following his gaze.

"Can't I get a tour? I love what you've done,
can I see the rest?"

"Sure, come on," she led him to the terrace
which had a small dark gray wrought iron table and two with
peacock-blue-cushioned chairs, also wrought iron. Then she took him
down the long hallway turned into a mini-gallery for the original
art hung there. There was an impressionistic pen-and-ink sailboat,
two decorative plates in red with gold and turquoise highlights, a
large mountain scene oil painting and several others he didn't have
time to examine closely on his swift walk back to the bedroom.
Carrie's bedroom walls were painted light sky blue paint on the
walls, trimmed in soft yellow. The bedspread was a country print in
shades of blue, yellow and white. She had a small country French
antique pine chest of drawers and white lamps on either side of the
bed. He noticed the queen-sized bed and smiled.

"What's that for?"

"What?" Grey tried to change his smile to one
of innocence but failed.

"The wicked grin on your face."

"Nothing, nothing, admiring your bedroom.
It's a great room, nicely done. Can't I do that without an ulterior
motive?"

"What do you like about it?" Carrie narrowed
her eyes and turned to face him squarely.

"The décor…the colors…to be honest, the size
of the bed tells me a lot about you."

"How so?"

"If it were a twin-sized bed, then I could be
pretty certain we wouldn't be sharing it any time soon…a double bed
means I have a 50/50 chance, but a queen-sized bed means…" he
blushed, suddenly aware he was giving away too much.

"Means?" She prodded.

"Never mind," he said, moving toward the
door.

She pulled on his arm and he turned.

"Means what?" She insisted. She blocked his
path to the door and put her hand on her hips.

"Means you're interested in…spending some
time with someone else in a bed big enough for two, especially a
man my size."

"I see. Leaping to some pretty big
conclusions here aren't you?" She put her hand over her mouth to
cover a smile.

"Hope is speaking again," he said, pulling
her closer for a kiss.

"Gotta get the dinner," she said, pulling out
of his arms and moving down the hall.

Grey followed behind her, watching her sway
as she walked, his desire growing. His heart began to beat more
rapidly as he realized Carrie might be the one woman who met all
three criteria on his list.

She arranged the roses he brought in a vase
and put them on the coffee table, then stopped to give him a quick
"thank you" kiss and returned to the kitchen. He stood in the
living room looking around at the pieces of original artwork on her
walls, each perfectly framed and artfully arranged, until he heard
a scream, then a clatter. He ran into the kitchen to find Carrie
clutching her hand, tears in her eyes.

"What happened?"

"Sometimes I forget…I picked up the pan
without the mitt," she said.

Grey quickly and calmly reached into the
freezer and grabbed a few pieces of ice. He took her hand, gently
placed the ice on the burned skin and held it there with one hand.
With the other, he took a small bowl out of the cabinet and filled
it with cold water. Then he plunked the ice in the water and led
her to the dinner table. She sat down and he put her hand in the
ice water.

"Keep it there. I'll get the food," he said,
kissing the damaged area before putting it in the bowl, wiping away
a tear on her cheek with his thumb.

Carrie sat back, keeping her hand in the icy
water. She watched Grey handle the casserole adeptly and get the
noodles and salad to the table.

"You have experience, I see," she said,
trying to light the candle with one hand.

"In a big family, everyone helps at
mealtimes," he replied, removing the matches from her hand and
lighting the candle with one sweep.

"Where did you grow up?"

"Upstate New York, in a small town…you've
probably never heard of it, Pine Grove."

She shook her head.

"Country boy, eh?" Carrie put her burned hand
back in the ice water.

"Easily transplanted to the big city." He
returned to the kitchen.

"Ever get back home?"

"For every holiday." He raised his voice so
she could hear him as he turned off the over and put away the oven
mitts.

"You're lucky."

"Don't you visit your parents?" He asked,
sitting down at the table.

"They have busy lives. Sometimes I go at
Christmas, but traveling then is such a zoo."

"What about your brother?"

"He spends time with them, it's not as far
for him and he's a teacher, so he has the time."

He heard a tinge of sadness in her voice. A
woman with all these talents and she wasn't married or engaged…or
was she?

"You're not involved with anyone, are you?"
He poured more wine.

"Would I be dating you if I was?" She looked
up at him.

"I hope not."

"I'm available, if that's your question. I'm
not seeing anyone…anyone regularly." She took a sip of the wine he
brought and smiled her approval.

"To the cook, long life and much happiness,"
he said, bringing the glass to his lips.

She smiled and drank, too.

"Then there is someone else?" His head jerked
up slightly as his eyes gaze made contact with hers.

"Not really. There were…uh…was. You didn't
think I was sitting at home every night waiting for your call, do
you? I had one or two men in my life when you came along."

"And now?"

"Now?" She blushed.

"Are you still seeing them?" He shook out the
cloth napkin and spread it on his lap.

"Actually…well…"

"Well what?" He demanded, staring into her
eyes.

"I'm not," she admitted, dropping her gaze to
her plate.

"Good. I don't share," he said, taking his
first bite.

"And you?" she asked, eyeing him keenly.

"You're my one and only now." Yesterday he'd
decided not to call Monica again. Or Louisa either. He had no
interest in either of them, or any other woman since he met
Carrie.

"Now? I don't share either," She stated,
raising an eyebrow.

Whew! Close call. Never thought about her
having another guy.

"This is amazing," he said, closing his eyes,
rolling the food around in his mouth for a few seconds.

"It's good, isn't it?" She cut the tender
meat with the side of her fork, avoiding using her injured
hand.

"God, it's more than good, it's incredible.
You made this?"

"From mom's secret recipe." Her smile grew
wide.

She's got the first two on the list nailed,
cold.

He felt nervous and giddy, watching her come
closer to fulfilling his dreams. No one else had come this close in
a long time. It seemed finding a woman who could cook and create a
tasteful home was like finding a four-leaf clover. He dug into the
food, savoring every bite.

They ate in silence for a while, until Carrie
swiped her tongue across her bottom lip to lick off some gravy.
Grey watched her tongue and felt his pulse climb. She looked at his
eyes, then dropped her gaze to his lips. She blushed when he smiled
knowingly at her and focused on her food again.

When they finished, Grey got up to clear the
table.

"How's your hand?"

"Much better, thanks." She said, looking at
the red spots on the inside of her fingers.

"Stay there. I'll clear. Do you want me to
stack them?"

Chapter Nine

As she watched Grey move back and forth
between the kitchen and the dining table, she couldn't take her
eyes off his trim body clad in a simple sports shirt and gray
slacks. His camel jacket was hung behind the front door. Her heart
melted. No one had made a physical hurt better for her in so long
she couldn't remember. He was sneaking into her heart too fast.
With the stress and craziness at work, the last thing she needed
was a love affair. Love took effort, energy, shaving your legs on a
regular basis, time and attention she didn't have while her job was
in jeopardy.

Try as she might, she couldn't resist Grey
Andrews. Forget the chemistry, his sweetness, his generosity and
his sense of humor were beyond resisting.
Can't forget the
chemistry.
Once he got near her, touched her again, she knew
she'd fall into his arms, giving herself to him enthusiastically.
Okay, I want him. This is crazy, insane. There's no time for
him…but I want him.

"We have lemon sorbet for dessert," she said,
getting up as he sat down after clearing the table. "Want coffee,
too?"

When she walked by, he stopped her by putting
his hands on her waist, and pulled her into his lap.

"All I want for dessert is you," he whispered
in her ear, sliding his hand under her hair, gently urging her face
closer to his. His lips closed over hers in a sweet kiss. She put
her arms around his neck. His tongue found hers and they played for
a little bit. Carrie's breathing quickened as his left hand moved
up over her sweater to capture her breast. She groaned softly,
wanting more.

He massaged her breast, finding her nipple
and ran his thumb over it, making it hard. Carrie softened against
him, urging him on. His right hand reached around behind her and
slipped under her sweater. He released her bra with one hand, then
returned to her waist while the other hand dove under her sweater,
under her bra to make contact with her naked breast. She gasped as
his cool hand covered her warm flesh.

"Sorry," he muttered, removing his lips from
hers for a quick second.

His hand continued to fondle her breast. He
caressed it, squeezed it…thumbed and circled her nipple. His lips
left hers and headed for her neck. His nibbled his way down her
neck and down her chest, while he slowly slipped the shoulder of
her sweater down until her breast was exposed to his lips, which
devoured it eagerly.

Carrie was panting slightly, running her hand
through his hair, closing her eyes. Heat filled her body, wetness
pooled between her legs.

"I want you, Carrie," he whispered
roughly.

She lifted his face up and stared into his
eyes, her own smoky with desire. She kissed him, moving her tongue
into his mouth, taking him, pressing her body against his. She
wanted him, too, had wanted him for weeks. Then she pulled
back.

"Make love to me," she whispered.

"My pleasure," he muttered.

He eased her up off his lap. She took his
hand and led him into the bedroom. He ripped the comforter down on
the bed then turned to her, pulling her sweater up and over her
head, sliding her bra down and off. He stopped to look at her.

"You're beautiful, incredibly beautiful," he
said, staring at her breasts.

She blushed then approached him, pulling at
his shirt. She yanked it out of his pants, then unbuttoned it and
pushed it off his shoulders. Her eyes widened as they gazed at his
chest. A smile played at her lips as she ran her palms up his firm
pecs which were covered with fine, light brown hair. She shivered
as she touched him, flattening her hands and moving closer to
him.

"Not bad, not bad at all," she muttered,
looking up at him.

He laughed. "Is that the best you can
do?"

"Gorgeous…better?" She asked as she slid her
hands up his chest and joined them around his neck, bringing her
breasts up against him, pressing closer.

He groaned at the feel of her breasts against
him and reached for the button of her jeans. She was unbuttoned and
unzipped in a flash, but she had to push the tight pants down
herself.

"Drop 'em, handsome," she said to him while
she eased her jeans down, watching him get naked.

She stood in her black lace panties, facing
him, moving her arms across her chest, feeling suddenly shy. He
sucked in his breath at the sight of her and stepped closer,
putting his arms around her, slipping his hands down to her butt
and pulling her closer to him. He pressed his aching erection
against her and a small moan of excitement escaped her lips. She
kissed his neck, then his chest.

"You are stunning," he whispered in her
ear.

She slid her hands down over his butt and
squeezed, then tugged him toward her. Grey slipped his hands under
the waistband of her panties and eased them down, cupping his hands
over her naked bottom. He groaned into her neck.

She pushed the panties down all the way and
stepped out of them. Grey leaned over and trailed his fingers down
over her hips to the backs of her thighs, then moved them up and in
to lightly caress her core. As they met her wetness, she moaned,
opening her thighs to him. His fingers played with her, stroking,
circling, slipping inside her a little then out again. She was
trembling with desire.

"Oh my God…you…you," she stammered as his
fingers continued to caress her; her head fell limp on his
shoulder, her eyes closed, she sagged against him. He could feel
her pulse leap, heat emanate from her body as she grew slick from
the magic his fingers worked on her.