Christmas at the Cove

by Rachel Brimble

  Carrie nodded, fighting the urge to spit feathers. This guy actually sounded in awe of a bona fide womanizer.

  “Nope. Despite his reluctance to get involved, I’ve never seen Scott treat women with anything but kindness and respect.” He winked. “If it makes you feel better, I’m sure he’ll be more than pleased to see you. I haven’t seen him with a woman for a while. He must be getting kind of lonely.”

  The ill-disguised innuendo in his tone set Carrie’s teeth on edge. “Didn’t I just show you my wedding band?”

  “Sure, but who wouldn’t want you turning up the week before Christmas, looking pretty enough to decorate their tree?”

  Carrie glared. “I’m not here for some grandiose idea of an illicit affair. He’s...a work associate, that’s all.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

  She held his gaze. “Really.”

  He studied her for a moment longer before he shrugged. “If you say so.”

  Frustration and the need to stick the guy in the eye with a needle hummed through her, so Carrie took a deep breath and glanced around the bar. “So...do you know where I can find the town’s Casanova, by any chance?”

  “Where he always is. He’ll be working at the shop tomorrow. I suspect he’ll be there right up to Christmas Eve. He’s a hardworking guy.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “But if he’s a work associate, shouldn’t you already know that?”

  Carrie glowered. “Fine, I lied. So, what’s the shop?”

  “The garage on Stiller Street. It’s his. He owns it.” He moved along the bar to serve a businessman scowling at a bottle of Scotch behind the bar like it was a mirage in the middle of the desert. “Yes, sir. What can I get you?”

  Carrie studied the bartender through narrowed lids. Decorate his tree? Pleased to see me? Well, no doubt she’d soon obliterate Scott Walker’s love-’em-and-leave-’em lifestyle the minute she told him about Belle. It seemed her daughter’s biological father was about as ready to be a daddy as Santa Claus was to go on a diet.

  Picking up her glass, Carrie finished the martini in a single gulp and winced against the rush of liquor. The need to flee home pulsed through her but she tamped it down. She had to find Scott or else the perpetual cloak of guilt she wore for keeping Belle a secret from him would never be discarded. How could she face Belle’s inevitable questions about her father in the future without knowing she’d done her utmost to involve him in her life?

  At least the bartender’s words had lessened her fear of being as attracted to Scott today as she was when they met. Time and experience had changed Carrie in the last three years and there was little chance of her to succumbing again to a pair of deep blue eyes and a body like brick.

  She stood. She’d go to bed and pray for Scott’s disinterest in both her and Belle. That would be the best Christmas present she could ask for. Tomorrow, she’d track down his garage on Stiller Street and face Scott head on. Tell him about Belle and if his attitude was as vile as she suspected it would be, she wouldn’t even have to suggest they find a mutually satisfying way of taking their parenting forward. Belle was her priority and Carrie had no interest in exposing her to some Lothario who had zero interest in being a daddy.

  If he didn’t want anything to do with Belle, so be it. She hadn’t returned to Templeton on a witch-hunt.

  She placed some cash from her purse onto the bar and left, renewed determination echoing in every click of her high-heeled boots against marble.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Scott winced as the wrench he held slipped from his grasp and scraped roughly across the knuckles of his other hand, splitting his skin wide open. “Goddamn it.”

  The metal tool clattered to the darkened pit floor and he kicked it against the wall in frustration. It was barely lunchtime and his concentration was shot. Snatching a rag from the car’s engine, he wrapped it around the wound and glared at the underside of the car suspended above him. How the hell was he supposed to get any work done when nothing but a blond-haired woman with the sexiest figure known to man circled his damn mind?

  Just like the first time he’d seen Carrie years before, the same lightning struck him immobile. He had no idea what it was about her, or why, but Carrie’s allure was too strong to ignore. All he cared about was his family, yet this woman had the ability to make him think about the life he led before and after her. It was as though she was a pivotal part of his very existence...and he hated it.

  If it was her he saw last night, then what? He had plans. Plans that didn’t involve a woman who took his damn heart and then tossed it aside.

  Scowling, he braced his good hand on the top of the pit and heaved himself out onto the garage floor. She’d taken his heart, yet he couldn’t ignore the fact his reluctance to get involved meant he hadn’t made any attempt to find Carrie, either. He was equally as guilty of tossing her heart aside...if there was any chance she felt the same way he did.

  Yanking open the buttons on his overalls, he shrugged them down to his waist and stalked over to the sink. He removed the rag and washed his injured hand, memories rising in his conscience. He was all too aware of his reputation as a womanizer around town and he’d done little to correct the gossip, not caring what people thought...but now, with the potential that Carrie could be back, the rumors worried him.

  He turned off the faucet and replaced the rag with paper towels from the box on the wall. One by one the women he’d dated crept into his mind. None of them had hit the spot in his heart Carrie had, or even come close. So he walked away. Time and again. Did that make him a bad guy? Maybe, maybe not, but as far as Scott was concerned, he never intentionally hurt any of them.

  His gut tightened. No? So why date them? Why romance them and sleep with some of them only to bail out in the end? Just like your dad when it comes down to it, aren’t you? Scott squeezed his eyes shut as one particular ex’s face rose up behind his closed lids. He’d run quicker from Amanda Arnold than he had the others. He told himself it was entirely because of Amanda’s trying and demanding personality, but the fact she had a kid too ate at his conscience.

  God damn it. Who says I have to want to buy into that crap? He marched across the garage floor, his mind a mess. Was it such a damn crime if he didn’t want to add more family obligation to the mountain he already carried?

  Making a snap decision, he grabbed his cell phone. He needed reinforcements. Friends and allies out in the field looking for Carrie. One way or another, he had to know if the girl he’d seen in town last night was really her. If she was, he wanted to know why the hell she was back in Templeton.

  He punched in his best friend’s number.

  “Hey, man.” Nick Carson yawned loudly. “What’s up?”

  Scott pushed his fingers through his too-long hair and wandered around a three-foot circumference. “I need a favor.”

  “Uh-oh. You sound pissed.”

  “I am.”

  “Because...”

  “I think she might be back.”

  “Who?”

  “Her.”

  “Her? You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

  “The blonde.”

  “The blonde? Nope, still need more.”

  Scott halted his pacing and glared. “Her. The blonde. The only woman to ever totally mess with my head. Her.”

  A long moment passed before Nick sucked in a breath. “Ooohhh, her.”

  Scott scowled. “Didn’t I say that clear enough the first time?”

  “Hey, just take a minute, okay?”

  “Take a minute?” Scott squeezed his eyes shut. “I haven’t had a single minute of head space since I almost knocked her off her feet in town last night. Jesus, Nick, you’ve got to do something.”

  “I’ve got to do something? What does that mean? I never saw the wom
an.”

  Scott stopped pacing. “You’re my friend, aren’t you? You’ve got to help me find her.”

  Nick huffed out a laugh. “What’s the matter with you? Even if it was her, you’ve got enough sense to stay the hell away, right?”

  Scott opened his eyes and glared toward the open garage door. Dark storm clouds gathered in the distance like an omen. Nick was right, finding her would surely lead to trouble. Trouble he didn’t need...but there was no way in hell he could let this go. He had to know if she was really Carrie. What he’d do about it if she was, he hadn’t figured out yet, but right then, not knowing ate at him from the inside out.

  “Scott? Did you hear what I said?”

  “I heard you.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “I’m guessing you haven’t spoken to her, so forget her.”

  “How could I have spoken to her when I barely saw her?”

  “Then what’s the problem here, man? If you haven’t spoken to her—”

  “She smelled the same.” Scott closed one eye against the pain of his pitiful feelings.

  “What?”

  “She smelled the same. Exactly as I remember. Her hair is shorter but just as thick, just as pissing sexy as it was then.”

  “You hear yourself, right? This is ridiculous. What is it you want me to do exactly? Come down there and put you in a damn straitjacket?”

  “I’ve got plans, Nick. You know I’ve got plans.”

  “Damn right I do. Plans that will make you rich after all the blood, sweat and tears you’ve put into that garage. So, what’s the problem?”

  “She is. Having her turn up here.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re saying if this mystery woman is the one you spent a few nights with, it changes everything? Don’t talk crap, man. This is one woman. A woman who disappeared. Who never called. I’ll be honest with you. I hope to God it isn’t her. She’s a hassle you don’t need.”

  “How can either of us know that?” Protectiveness for Carrie burned like a fireball inside Scott’s chest. He clenched the phone. Memories of the way her body felt in his hands, the texture of skin as smooth as silk beneath his lips...

  “Because of you. That’s how.” Nick sighed. “You love women, but you’ve never loved a woman like you did her. You fell like a shot, man. Bam! Face down on the floor with no idea how to get the hell back up. You don’t need that again. I’m telling you right now, if it’s her, get on your damn bike and leave the Cove today.”

  “Sure. I’ll just run away. Don’t bother telling Mum or my sisters what I’m doing...” The click-clack of high heels yanked Scott’s head up like it was attached by a rubber band to the ceiling. He stared toward the door, his heart picking up speed.

  Click, clack. Click, clack.

  “Scott? You still there?” Nick’s voice filtered down the line.

  Tension rippled through Scott’s body and his heart beat fast. Carrie came through the open door and halted. Their eyes locked.

  Scott’s mouth drained dry. “I’ve gotta go.” He snapped the phone closed.

  She stepped farther into the garage and closed her umbrella. He might have been mistaken, but he could have sworn her eyes widened as she cast her gaze over his chest. Before his ego could inflate an inch, their eyes met. God, she was beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed but her gaze steady as she clutched her purse at her stomach.

  She tilted her chin. “Hello, Scott.”

  That voice. He swallowed and crossed his arms, fighting a wince when his elbow knocked his injured hand. “So it was you I saw in town last night.”

  She stiffened. “You saw me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Time stood still and he cast his gaze over her face and body before he could stop himself. Desire burned and mixed with the shock pulsating through him. The atmosphere crackled, showing him all too clearly nothing had changed about his hot and crazy sexual attraction to this woman. He still wanted her, would willingly take her against the garage wall right then if she asked him.

  She came closer and halted less than five feet away. He curled his hands into fists to stop from reaching for her as her gaze wandered over his face and chest, lingering at his bandaged hand before she met his eyes once more. “I have to talk to you.”

  Her soft, husky voice whispered over his senses, raising every hair on his body, making his dick twitch awake as though it’d been dormant for three long years. He purposefully slammed his defenses into place. “Is that so?”

  Her eyes flashed with a fire he remembered only too well when they’d been face-to-face at The Coast Inn. “Yes.” She glanced around the garage. “I’m sorry to turn up unannounced like this, but I’m here and we need to talk.”

  He stared at her in disbelief as questions, demands and weaknesses hurtled around inside him, battling with the intense sexual frustration storming through his body. “Just like that, you turn up and say, ‘We need to talk’?” He shook his head and turned away from her, lest he get caught in the snare of her wide, impossibly gorgeous eyes. “Go away.”

  “No.”

  Keeping his back to her, he uncrossed his arms and planted his hands on his hips. He tipped his head back and smiled as insanity rushed his bloodstream. He wanted to grab her, shake her, kiss her and make love to her. God, he wanted to drop to his damn knees in front of her and beg her to tell him where she’d been and now she was back, was she back for good?

  “Scott?”

  He closed his eyes, barely resisting the urge to cover his ears and block out her voice, achingly laced with the unmistakable sound of a plea. “Whether you want to see me or not, I have to talk to you, and I won’t leave the Cove until you listen to me.”

  Her heels clicked closer and his body tensed, waiting for what came next. The dangerous, musky scent of her perfume wafted under his nostrils and he inhaled. She approached the bench beside him and put down a business card. “My number’s on there. I’m staying at the Christie. Call me when you’re ready to talk. It’s important or I wouldn’t have come.”

  He glanced at the card. Carrie Jameson. Producer.

  She turned and walked away. He let her go, feeling like a smashed-up car after a hurricane, tossed and turned through the air before being spewed crudely across the highway, left to rust and burn.

  He picked up the card. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Carrie was back and his libido told him only too clearly there was no way in hell he wouldn’t go to her. How was he supposed to let her leave again when he’d lived the last three years regretting he didn’t stop her the first time?

  CHAPTER THREE

  CARRIE LEFT THE garage and strode into the street, her legs trembling. She clasped her hand over her mouth and ducked into an alleyway. Dropping her head back against the damp brick of the building, she welcomed the heavy rain as it battered her skin.

  My God, he looked...amazing.

  Scott Walker was still gorgeous, sexy and alive with a fire she stupidly thought she remembered so clearly—but hadn’t remembered accurately at all. The irresistible intensity surrounding him hadn’t lessened with time. It still seeped from every pore. His inexplicable manliness appealed to her senses and scored over her skin, like nothing she’d ever known with another man. It was crazy—yet so very, very real. She closed her eyes.

  God, why did I come here expecting to control the situation?

  When he stood in front of her, broad chested, with grease-smeared overalls hanging loose at his hips...Carrie drew in a long breath through flared nostrils as her center shamelessly pulled. The man burned with passion. When she looked into his eyes, his shock over seeing her scorched right through her skin and deep into her heart, making her want to kiss him...comfort him. A
pologize. Ask him to forgive her. But how was she supposed to talk to him about Belle and get the hell home as quickly as possible when he affected her like this?

  From the dark fall of his thick hair to the shadow of stubble at his jaw and upper lip, he was so entirely masculine she couldn’t stand how weak with desire he made her. This wasn’t who she was. She was a mum. A producer. A daughter. A widow...

  Confusion and shock rocketed through her and she pushed away from the wall. She needed to get a grip. This was about Belle. Not her. Not Scott. There was no way she’d leave Templeton and go back home without doing what she came to do, so she’d better find a way to deal with his pull on her and find it quickly. She couldn’t let her fear of Scott’s potential to take her as easily as he did the first time change the reality he was Belle’s father. And she’d promised herself she’d tell Scott the truth.

  Smoothing the front of her coat, she hitched her belt tighter and inhaled the moist winter air. Belle was growing and growing fast. Carrie could scarcely believe this was her daughter’s third Christmas. God, she should have done this months ago—why had it taken Gerard’s death to make her take responsibility for her actions?

  Because I’m a coward. Because I was scared of this. Scared that I’d still be as attracted to Scott today as I was then. Scared that the suspicion in Gerard’s eyes whenever I spoke of Scott would be proven justified. Scared I would have to accept what Gerard knew all along...Scott matters to me.

  Carrie’s tears slipped from beneath her closed lids and trickled a warm path down her icy cheeks. Gerard was a brave man. A selfless, wise and mature man. Her antithesis and, as far as she could tell, Scott’s too. Hence why she’d taken over a year to grieve and gather the strength to get through what she now had to do alone. Carrie shook her head. She’d convinced herself the time was right because with the time that had passed since she’d seen Scott, surely her attraction would be gone, obliterated by a loving marriage and a beautiful child teaching her so much about motherhood.

  But no. It was still there, maybe burning more dangerously than before because this time she and Scott had a child together. The potential was there to know each other for the rest of their lives; to be side by side at Belle’s parent-teacher interviews, birthday parties, Christmas holidays...