She ended the visual tour with a practiced frown. “You can’t possibly expect a warm welcome at this time in the morning.”
“It’s seven.”
“Your point?”
He executed the perfect eye roll. “I’ve been up for two hours.”
“You’re not normal.” Her gaze bounced down to his hands and she wondered how she’d missed the two cups of what looked like coffee and a white bag of something in the carrier.
The man knew how to get to her. She’d once joked about how a woman could forgive a lot for a man who brought her breakfast. She was trying to weasel a coffee run out of him at the time.
“You’ve enjoyed my early rising in the past,” he said.
She bit down on her lip to keep from laughing at his dumb joke and the sexy smile that followed. “You haven’t explained how you found me.”
“We come from a town of, like, ten people. They lined up to tell me how to find you.”
Traitors. “So, Mitch squealed. That would explain why he won’t answer my calls.”
“Your brother has to work with me.” When she snorted, Austin talked louder. “Then there’s the part where I threatened to kill him if he didn’t spill.”
“I’m going to smack the crap out of him when I see him again.” She stood back and opened her arm to usher Austin out of the hallway. “Come in before we give the neighbors a show that will get me evicted.”
“In that robe? I’d be willing.”
Her skin warmed everywhere his gaze touched. She grabbed her lapels and gathered them in her clenched fist to stop that sort of thing. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I’m not complaining.”
Her all but naked and his gaze traveling down her front spelled disaster. “I’ll go get dressed.”
Before she could shuffle off to the bedroom and lock the door behind her, he raised his hands. The move put the goodies he brought at eye level. “Are you sure you don’t want to try these first?”
The smell of deep roast filled her senses. Hot man and hot coffee. Who could resist that combination?
“What’s in the bag?”
“A cinnamon-swirl pound cake to go with your grande nonfat vanilla latte.” He shook the bag as he spoke.
The evil coffee pimp remembered her usual order. “Lucky guess.”
He walked into her kitchen and went to the silverware drawer as if he’d been in the apartment a hundred times. “You tricked me into a caffeine run almost every morning in Holloway once that joint opened the next town over.”
“Tricked?”
“Maybe I should say bribed with sex and the promise of football tickets.”
She leaned in the doorway and fell into the gentle rhythm of their comfortable conversation. “A gentleman wouldn’t mention my methods.”
“A gentleman wouldn’t have jumped on the deal, but I did. On the deal. On you. All of it.”
She eased up on the grip on her robe as she watched his lean fingers work on the lid and empty what looked like three pink packets into his coffee. And people accused her of having a sugar addiction.
“Those were good times,” she said as the pictures played in her mind.
“But your mother’s cinnamon rolls are better than anything I’ve been able to get in a store.” He opened the bag and peeked inside.
“And more fattening.”
He frowned. “Not a big concern for you.”
Sweet talker. Carrie wasn’t the weight-obsessed type but a healthy weight in Holloway was a good ten pounds heavier than an expected weight for the high-heeled, big checkbook crowd she moved with at work.
“Every woman worries about her weight. Mine leveled out when I left Mom’s kitchen.” The daily hour on the treadmill also helped.
He dropped a slab of cake on the piece of wax paper stuck underneath it and slid it to the edge of the counter closest to her. “You have to miss those special meals. That woman can cook.”
A skill she did not pass on to her daughter, not that Austin ever complained. Carrie had loved him for many things. His willingness to put up with her crappy meatloaf without gagging was one of them. He’d insisted she was getting better with each meal she made. She was just grateful she hadn’t accidentally poisoned them.
“When will you try them again?” he asked.
Carrie picked up her breakfast but stopped in mid-chomp. “What?”
“When are you coming home to visit your family?” He took a sip of coffee and eyed her over the cup.
“Now you sound like Mom.”
“She misses you.”
Carrie threw the cake on the counter as the acid in her stomach bubbled. “Don’t do that. Don’t use family guilt to lure me back to Holloway.”
“Fine.” He pushed off from where he leaned against her stove and started toward her. “How about this? I miss you.”
The words she’d longed to hear. The same ones that cut through her, bringing both pain and joy. Her heart spun but the knot in her stomach tightened.
“Austin…” She held up both hands in a half-hearted attempt to fend him off.
When he wrapped his fingers around her wrists and carried her wrists to the back of his neck, she didn’t fight him. His scent washed over her senses, lighting every cell on fire. She smelled the cool outdoors on his skin, that subtle mix of pine and soap with a touch of fresh firewood.
The soft strands of his fine hair slid through her fingers as her body melted into his. The robe, his clothes, it all faded away. In her head, her soft skin smoothed over his rough edges.
His mouth danced in a trail from her ear and down her throat. Her heartbeat spiked in response.
“Am I supposed to pretend like I don’t miss you? No way could I pull a lie that big off.” His husky voice rumbled against her bare skin.
“You’re not even supposed to be here.”
“But I am.” He blew the words across her lips.
She didn’t know how much she’d wanted his mouth on hers until his tongue swept across her lips. The kiss started out achingly slow, brushing from one end to the other, until his mouth covered hers and her body sparked to life.
Demanding and hot, he kissed her until the breath left her lungs and her fingers dug into his shoulders. When he slid his hands down her back and pressed her deeper against him, waves of need crashed over her.
A groan escaped her lips, snapping her back to reality. In a flash, the roaring in her ears stopped and the sounds of life returned. The sharp clack of her kitchen clock beat out the minutes as she pulled back first emotionally, then physically.
She nudged his shoulders. “Austin, stop.”
He did, just as she knew he would. He was rock solid and never used force, except for that one time she’d found the two ties he owned and asked him to go all he-man on her.
In slow motion, his arms slid against her sides until his hands dropped to her hips. “You okay?”
Stupid and half-dizzy from kissing him. Other than that, terrible. When a woman got knocked off her feet from the touch of a guy’s lips, she wanted the feeling all the time. Knowing this was a temporary thing filled her with a flulike weakness that reached into her bones.
She cleared her throat. “Of course.”
“Should I apologize?”
She stared into eyes the color of a cloudless summer day. “Are you sorry?”
“No.”
She waited for the slap of regret to hit her but it never came. She could at least have this moment. Savor it. “Me either.”
His hands clenched into fists against her as if he was forcing his fingers not to hold on too tight. “Then?”
Stepping out of his arms was like ripping a strip of skin off an inch at a time. She almost screamed in pain as she left the warm circle of his body.
“I have to go to work.”
He nodded. “Ah, yes. The museum.”
Sadness crawled over her. She felt it spread until it infected everything. “I don’t want to fight with you about
this.”
“Makes two of us.”
“I know my career means nothing to you.”
“Oh, Carrie. Come on.” He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. “That’s not fair.”
“This is my dream job. A position at a prestigious museum, mixing with people in the art world. Being close to masterpieces and seeing works some people will only ever experience in a textbook.” When he finally gave her eye contact again, she poured all her intensity into the words to get him to understand. “I get to live them, to stand there, feeling the artist’s emotions wash over me.”
“Okay.”
The air rushed out of her, taking her last bit of hope along with it. She’d struggled to find a new way to make him understand and failed again. “Forget it.”
She’d left Holloway specifically to avoid scenes like this. She would explain and he would close down. He didn’t say it, but she knew he viewed working in a museum as a hobby she would outgrow. That she’d fall into line and come rushing home again.
Rather than fight, she headed for the bedroom. This was her turf and she could abandon the fight if she needed, and with her emotions so close to the surface she needed to.
“Hey, wait a second.” With a gentle tug, he turned her around until they faced each other again. “All I said was okay and you’re running.”
“Austin, come on. This part of my life doesn’t mean anything to you. You’ve never spent even one second getting to know what the work means to me.”
“It’s your world, not mine. I don’t sit and talk about tree climbing with you.”
She laid a hand against his chest and felt the steady thump of his heart beneath her fingers. “Do you really think it’s the same thing?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Okay, look. I can’t do this. I have responsibilities and I have to get to them.” She stepped back and fought the urge to run.
He exhaled, blowing a warm breath across her cheek. “Don’t use that excuse. Talk to me.”
These discussions never got them anywhere. They went around in circles, throwing out the same accusations and arguments. The spark between them hadn’t died but it wasn’t enough to hold them together either.
He had to leave before she lost it.
“Thanks for the coffee, but for the future, I don’t need a wake-up call. I bought a latte maker when I moved in here.” She kissed him on the cheek and reached out for the wall behind her to keep from sliding to the floor.
“Mary Cassatt.”
Everything inside her froze. It took all her strength to turn her head and look at him. “What?”
“Right now you’re in charge of a lecture series surrounding the Mary Cassatt exhibit at the National Museum of Women in the Arts.”
“How did you—”
He picked up his coffee cup off the counter. “I haven’t spent more than ten minutes in a museum in my life. A discussion about art makes me look for a pen to stab in my eye sockets. Honestly, I’d rather watch soccer than hear anything about an artist ever, which should tell you something since I find soccer pretty boring.”
Without even trying he listed some of the stumbling blocks between them. “See, that’s what—”
“But it matters to you, so I made it a priority to know something about it.”
The words slashed against her. “Since when?”
“Since you walked out and I realized I’d do anything to get you back.” The flatness of his voice matched the bleak despair in his eyes.
“Austin.”
He pointed toward the kitchen. “There’s a salad at the bottom of the bag. From the look of you, you’ve been skipping lunch. Maybe that’s a city thing, but you’re beautiful without some damn diet. Eat.”
Then he was gone and the hollowness in her stomach enveloped her.
Chapter Four
Carrie made it the whole way to the next evening before seeing Austin. Not that she was hunting him down or anything. Not that their talk yesterday ran through her mind all damn day until she had to give her cell to her intern to keep from calling him. She only skipped the gym and headed straight for the lot after work to check out the tree supply. Yep. That was her story.
Bundled in her coat and wearing the oh-so-sexy combination of a conservative navy skirt and white sneakers, she crossed the side street, dodged around a car that had been illegally parked near the building for two days, and passed under the string of white lights outlining the tree lot.
A group of people gathered around Austin. Being six feet, he towered over most as he laughed and smiled and generally wooed them with a story about a bobcat and tractor. His enthusiasm was infectious. When he laughed, her insides warmed.
His rapt audience smiled and clapped…wait, audience? Make that his posse of women.
Over the steady thrum of traffic, Carrie scanned the lot in search of men other than the Thomas brothers and couldn’t find one. Funny how all the women in the neighborhood congregated at this lot. Who knew there even were this many twenty-something women in the area?
“Little Carrie Anders.” Spence gave his welcome from right behind her left shoulder.
The richness of his voice flooded her with an unexpected kick of longing. Something about him, seeing the brothers together, made her miss home.
“Spence.”
“Good to see you, babe.” He followed up the greeting with a strangling brother hug then set her away from him.
“Austin dragged you into this crazy plan, too?” The idea made her smile since Spence wasn’t exactly the romantic type.
He groaned. “You’d think I’d be smarter than to get wrapped up in his mess.”
“I’ve never been called a mess before.”
Spence winked. “But you are a very lovely mess.”
“Is Mitch hiding around here somewhere?”
“No, your brother is the real smart one in this scenario. He and my dad are running the place at home while we’re here…” Spence swallowed his smile.
“Checking on me?”
“Let’s go ahead and say it that way since it makes Austin seem more like a concerned boyfriend than a crazed stalker.”
She let the label pass. No need to throw “ex” around. “Austin is determined but not a stalker.”
“I’m happy you think so. That will save a lot on lawyer fees.”
She had to laugh at that. Austin had many faults. She was tempted to make a list, but stalking was not one of them. He’d never hurt her or force her. Drive her crazy? Now that was a different story.
Carrie’s good mood faded when she spied a woman hanging on his arm as he pointed to a tree. Carrie tore her gaze away from the big flirtation scene. She’d broken it off with Austin. That meant he could date, she could date…but surely he could see through that woman’s fake laugh and even faker boobs.
Spence shifted his weight. The move put his body right in her line of sight. Since peeking around him seemed a bit over the top, Carrie stayed put.
“I’m just hoping Dad doesn’t burn down the place by accident while we’re gone,” Spence said.
Carrie wondered if the comment amounted to another attempt to guilt her home. When he stared at her with those blue eyes so like his brother’s and an expression somewhere between amusement and horror, she decided he was imagining what the office would look like when he returned.
Karl Thomas had raised two teen boys on his own. Picking up and vacuuming weren’t exactly his priorities. He hadn’t changed much now that Spence and Austin were adults, but his business success couldn’t be questioned. He’d taken an overgrown piece of property and turned it into a thriving business that supported numerous employees and served four states.
Landscapers, designers, homeowners and fellow business folks came to Thomas Nurseries for help. Add in Austin’s specialty as an arborist in managing the health and stability of plants and trees, and his contracts with the state, utility companies and the U.S. Forest Service, and they had everything from simple gardening t
o arboriculture to botany covered.
“Your dad ran the farm and business without you for years, so I’m thinking he can handle a few days,” she said.
“You think Austin only plans to be here for a few days?”
Her stomach did a bounce against the hard ground. “Uh, yeah. I assumed this was a short-term offensive strike.”
“You’re kidding.”
“So, weeks?”
Spence shook his head. “Either way, Dad’s history is not as comforting to me as you might think.”
A lot could change in six months, including someone’s health. That thought sent panic spinning inside her. “Is he okay?”
Spence waved off her concerns. “Exactly the same. Ornery, driven and now, damn my luck, demanding a grandkid.”
A laugh bubbled up before she could control it. “From you?”
“I’m capable.”
“Of producing one or raising one?”
The area around Spence’s mouth turned green. “Now that I think about it, neither. I’ll keep practicing the method where I don’t produce one.”
“Probably wise.”
Horns honked as three more women crossed the street on their way to the lot. No sneakers in this group. One had bare legs and four-inch heels. Carrie almost laughed. Yeah, those were perfect for this weather. The woman would have hypothermia in an hour if she didn’t find some socks.
“You guys seem to be doing well.” Carrie tried to block the grumbling she felt from sneaking into her voice.
“I gotta hand it to Austin. He’s had a steady stream of customers all day.” Spence crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. “Apparently women like him. Who the hell knew?”
“I can think of a few people.”
Spence leaned in as if telling a big secret. “I swear one woman has already bought two trees.”
Well, wasn’t that just terrific. “How festive of her.”
“He should be done in a second. I know you’re not used to being the one waiting, but Austin doesn’t take long to close a deal.”
“Okay.” She turned Spence’s words over in her mind. “Wait. What does that mean?”
It's Not Christmas Without You (The Holloway Series) Page 3
