Something More

by Samanthya Wyatt

  Carrie tried to erase the image that suddenly sprang to mind. “Ginger, if you weren’t my friend, I’d kick your ass.”

  Ginger handed her a wine goblet. “Not if you still want to get laid. Will rearranged his schedule to be here this weekend.”

  “Well, call him back and tell him never mind.” Carrie clutched the glass and took a hefty swallow.

  “Can’t do that.” Ginger leaned against the counter.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too much fun seeing him with his tongue hanging out.” Ginger laughed.

  Carrie glared and gritted through her teeth. “Ginger, I think I’ll kick your ass anyway.”

  “Relax, Carrie. I have three more if Will doesn’t work out. Even if he is my brother, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” Ginger wiggled her eyebrows. If they were an inch wider, she’d be the female version of Groucho Marx.

  “I mean it, Ginger. Call him. I’ve got Matthew disease.”

  She waved her hand in the air. “He’s gay.”

  “He is not gay.” Carrie took a sip of wine and went back to cutting the vegetables. “He’s incredible in bed.”

  Ginger’s head snapped up and she plopped her glass on the counter. “‘Bout time.”

  “Now, all I have to do is get him back here.”

  Ginger froze. Placing both hands on the center island, she leaned forward. “What do you mean, get him back? What did you do—or not do—this time?”

  “Matthew lives on the west coast,” Carrie explained.

  “Planes fly out every day.”

  She shook her head. “Long distance relationships never work out.”

  A sinister gleam filled Ginger’s eyes. “There’s still my brother.”

  “No.”

  She shoved back from the counter and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “What’s with you and this guy anyway? You’re not indecisive. You’re the most strong-minded woman I know.”

  Carrie put the knife down and braced her arms on the counter, locking her elbows. “This isn’t business.”

  Ginger peered over the rim of her goblet. “You treat your relationships like business arrangements. You don’t let your partners get personal.”

  Carrie met her friend’s stare. “You can’t get much more personal than getting naked with a man.”

  “That’s just sex.” Ginger turned and opened a cabinet door, reaching for plates. “And you do treat men like objects.”

  “That sounds dangerously like the pot calling the kettle black.”

  Ginger ignored her. “Is this one different?”

  Matthew was unlike any man Carrie had ever met. The magnetism had been there from the moment he shoved her into the cab. When he took her to dinner the first time, the air sizzled at their table. The heat in his eyes alone scorched her skin. And when they finally made love, his touch branded her like a hot iron. Yeah, he was different. And it scared the hell out of her.

  She lost herself with him. Passion had taken over her sensibilities and she’d been completely swept away. Being in his arms had been unlike anything she’d known in her life. He touched her core. Losing control of her passion during sex didn’t bother her. Losing her mind, all thought, consumed to the point where she would have given him her all, now that was an entirely different matter. It was intolerable. Had she forgotten what happened to her sister?

  “Forget it, Ginger.”

  “No problem, kiddo. Two choices. Pick another man, or go after him.”

  Carrie locked the door behind Ginger and headed for bed. How could she miss a man she’d just met? She stomped down the hall taking her frustration out on her floor. She jerked off her clothes, throwing them helter-skelter, when the phone rang.

  “Hello,” she said crossly.

  “Well, hello to you too, dear.”

  Carrie flopped on the bed. “Hi, Guinevere. How are you?”

  “Evidently better than you.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m tired and my friend, Ginger, just left.”

  “Your friend on the cruise? That explains everything, dear.”

  The elder woman brought a smile to Carrie’s face. She propped a pillow behind her back. “It’s good to hear from you.”

  “I’m planning my next trip and I want to see you before I leave. Instead of my coming to your office, why don’t you come here? We can have lunch and enjoy an afternoon.”

  “I’d love that.”

  “How about tomorrow?”

  Guinevere was a dear friend as well as a special client. She’d rearrange her schedule and anything else for her. “I think tomorrow will be just fine.”

  “Oh, that’s lovely, dear. You can tell me all about what’s happening in your life. Bring a bag and spend the night.”

  “I may just do that.”

  “What? No excuses about how busy you are?”

  None. She’d love to see the old girl again. Guinevere had a way of relaxing Carrie and making her feel better about her choices. She actually looked forward to the visit.

  “No excuses. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Wonderful. And you can tell me about the new man in your life.”

  Carrie stared at the phone in her hand. How on earth . . .?

  “Well. Good night, dear.”

  The old trickster. She was always asking if Carrie had a man in her life.

  Guinevere never talked about it, but she had mentioned a man once, making Carrie wonder if she’d had a special romance. Carrie’s sister moved in with a man hoping for a happily ever after. And Brenda, she had the notion Carrie might be missing out on something significant—a magical something—which was only a figment of her imagination.

  Wasn’t it?

  Besides. Carrie didn’t worry over pointless things. She took charge and made things happen. Worry was for the weak.

  The boy who left her sister pregnant had been a teenager, fourteen years ago. Carrie had been a naïve kid. Inexperienced in the ways of boys and their promises. The self-assured woman of today would never allow that to happen. She knew men and how to handle them. Could she take a chance with Matthew? At least pursue this compelling attraction that drove her to a tizzy.

  She pulled the pillow from behind her back and scooted down on the bed. In previous relationships, a subconscious desire always remained, there had to be something more. The night spent in Matthew’s arms, she’d felt complete. For a time, she’d been free of that elusive feeling that something dangled just beyond her reach. Nothing had been missing when her head rested on his fur-covered chest.

  Disappointment flowed through her as doubts surfaced. She should forget Matthew. Their relationship would probably turn out the same way as the others. Her body satisfied, her mind would yearn for something more.

  Could she find it?

  Guinevere.

  She would tell her about Matthew tomorrow.

  Chapter 11

  Carrie had only been to Guinevere’s home three times, and each time the lovely mansion took her breath. Old, but in such excellent shape. Decorated with elegant taste, some pieces dated back to England, no doubt. Quite simply put, her home was beautiful. Indescribable.

  Carrie rubbed elbows with wealthy and influential people on a daily basis. They came in all shapes and sizes. Egotistical, self-important, condescending, she’d learned how to handle them all. When she met Guinevere at a clientele party given by her partners for the elite, the woman had intrigued her instantly. Guinevere was a woman who knew her self-worth and presented the confidence of one in complete control. Her mannerisms screamed old money and family history.

  They became instant friends. Carrie’s new found friend was seventy-one and full of live. Smooth. Charismatic. In control. And . . . amiable. Add feisty, with a clever sense of humor. Did she mention outspoken? She’d analyzed Carrie in two seconds flat.

  Live your life. My advice is stop worrying about whatever it is that’s keeping you from it.

  She had lunch served on the patio, surrounded by a floral g
arden that she tended herself, upon occasion. Her gardener had his work cut out, but the thriving color spoke volumes of his capability. With so many aromas floating in the air, Carrie would have difficulty identifying each fragrance.

  “I’m so glad you could join me.” Guinevere spoke as she poured tea. Carrie sincerely suspected the filigree China cups could not be replaced.

  “I really need to give Brenda a raise. It took a lot for her to change my schedule.”

  “I hope it wasn’t too difficult.” Guinevere sipped her tea. “I am glad to hear you speak of your assistant that way. Too many times a high executive forgets the little people.”

  “I don’t think of anyone as little. I know how hard I worked to get where I am. And I’d be lost without Brenda. She’s my greatest asset. Besides, she keeps me grounded.”

  “What do you mean by that, dear?”

  Carrie placed the china cup carefully back on the saucer. “If I get too crazy, she calms me down. She’s a hoot. Sharp as a tack and a great sense of humor.”

  “I hope you tell her you appreciate her.” Guinevere adjusted the brim of her hat to block out the sun.

  “And give her a big head? She already knows how important she is. I can’t add to her ego.”

  “I seriously doubt she has one.”

  Little did she know.

  Carrie changed the subject. “So, where are you going?”

  Guinevere added a dab of sugar to her tea. “I’m going to Scotland.”

  “How wonderful. I’m jealous.” Even at seventy-one, the genteel woman stayed on the go.

  “Would you like to come along, dear?”

  She’d love to. One reason being she hated thinking of Guinevere traveling alone, which she did often. Yes, she could take care of herself, but still, she was seventy-one. Between Ginger, work, and Matthew, Carrie just didn’t have the time.

  “I’d love to go, but I’ve too much going on.”

  “You work too hard, dear.” Over the rim of her cup, Guinevere’s shrew gaze settled on Carrie.

  “Now, how would you know that? I think you just want me to go with you.” She had developed a soft spot for the old woman.

  “I would enjoy your company. I’m glad we made a friendship. Not many young people want to associate with my generation.”

  Carrie leaned forward and winked. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

  A maid came over with fresh water. She spooned just the right amount of tea into a special chamber inside the pot and went away.

  “Tell me about this new man in your life.”

  Carrie pierced the old girl with what she hoped was a teasing look. “You’re fishing.”

  “Have I caught a fish?” Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

  Carrie laughed and nodded in the affirmative.

  “Well. Don’t keep me waiting.”

  “I met a man at the airport.”

  “When you came back from your cruise?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “Why on earth would you say that? This sounds delightful. What happened?”

  The old girl was practically on the edge of her seat with curiosity. “You won’t believe how we met. The storm made it difficult for planes to land and several flights were late. It was raining buckets when I tried to get a cab at the terminal. I spotted one, ran for it and this man hijacked my taxi.”

  “Oh dear. He left you in the rain? How rude.” Guinevere’s sympathy would have been appreciated if he had done that.

  “No. He pushed me inside.”

  Worry lines formed on her wrinkled face. “Were you hurt, dear?”

  “No,” Carrie remembered her first glimpse of Matthew. “But, I was madder than a hornet.”

  “Good for you. I hope you let him have it.” She gave a slight punch with her fist, if you could call it that. For everything Guinevere did, she did with aristocratic style and grace.

  But her comment made Carrie smile.

  “I was furious. Wet hair plastered in my face. He’d just shoved me in the car and jumped in behind me.”

  “Oh . . .” Her hand fluttered over her chest. “How romantic.”

  Carrie gulped her tea and wondered how she did not choke. Resting the cup in its holder, she sputtered, “Romantic?”

  “He is the one we’re speaking of, isn’t he? We meet such interesting people when we least expect it.”

  She didn’t know how to answer that. “Guinevere, you’re something else.”

  “What’s his name, dear?”

  Carrie lifted the linen napkin and dabbed her mouth. Just thinking of him gave a little boost to her pulse. His name rolled sweetly off her lips like the sweetened tea. “Matthew. He’s a hunk. He’s wonderful. And he’s gone.”

  Silence stretched for a solid minute.

  “My goodness. You do know how to go through men.” Guinevere leaned back in her chair and crossed her hands in her lap. “Back up. From the beginning, if you please.”

  The image of Matthew, with dripping curls in the back seat of that cab, flashed into Carrie’s mind. She swallowed. “We were soaked to the skin.”

  “This is getting interesting.”

  “Really, Guinevere,” Carrie chastised.

  “You forget, dear. I was also young once. And I’m not too old to remember.” She waved a hand. “Particulars, please.”

  Carrie chuckled. She wanted particulars? “Our clothes were plastered and didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. I tried to close my suit jacket over my shirt.”

  “I’ll bet his eyes were glued there. How exciting.”

  “Guinevere!” Carrie pretended shock, when in fact she admired the elder woman’s brashness.

  “Oh, pishaw. Go on.” She waved her hand in a rolling motion. “So you got all steamy?”

  Carrie shook her head and spoke aloud. “I can’t believe I’m divulging intimate particulars with a seventy year old woman.”

  “Seventy-one.”

  “Seventy-one.” How close the two of them had gotten. Guinevere drew things from her like a teenager sharing secrets with her best friend. “Yes, I got all steamy. It took two dates before he acted, though.”

  Guinevere gave a sharp nod. “Sounds like a gentleman.”

  “Funny you should say that. He acted the perfect gentleman on our first date.”

  Her mouth lifted in a grin and mischief lurked in her eyes. “I imagine that drove you a bit crazy.”

  God love her.

  “More than a bit. A hot, delicious man gave me a goodnight kiss at my door and then he walked away. I couldn’t believe it.”

  Guinevere leaned forward as if to whisper. “Is he a good kisser?”

  “A dream.” Carrie sighed.

  “I heard that. Your voice had a wistful longing,” Guinevere sat back in her chair, her voice loud and firm.

  “Probably lust,” Carrie said cynically.

  “What happened next?”

  Reliving the details made Carrie more excited than she would’ve liked to admit. “He sent me roses again.”

  “Again?”

  “The first day back, he sent roses to my office. A sort of apology for pushing me into the cab.”

  “I suspect more than that. It may have been a way to keep in touch and see you again.”

  “I’ve received countless bouquets. I love flowers and I enjoy them. Their fragrance gives me a sense of being outdoors. But this was the first time a foolish little thrill went through me. My reaction surprised me.”

  Guinevere smiled and picked up her teacup. “You must like the man. Your emotions run close to the surface, Carrie, but you hide them well. You’re not a cold or unfeeling person no matter how unemotional you try to be.”

  “The sharks would disagree with you.” She doubted anyone in her office thought of her that way.

  Guinevere took a sip and returned her cup to the saucer. Then her eyes flashed and connected with Carrie’s soul. “A woman must be strong in a business world full of men. I have experienced that. Bu
t there is a difference between being strong-minded and hard-hearted. A woman can be iron-willed and sensitive. And if you have feelings for this young man, you should enjoy them.”

  Confusion was as alien to Carrie as little green men in a spaceship. But she’d had a lot of befuddling moods lately. “I feel something for him. I’m not sure what.”

  “You’re too analytical. Don’t question your thoughts. Try to relax.”

  Carrie shook her head. “I told you the last time you said that, I don’t know how to relax.”

  “Well then, let’s get to the part where you said he’s gone. What did you mean?”

  “He came to New York for a business merger or something like that. He flew back to LA.” Carrie dropped her head. It wasn’t until she lifted it again that she realized Guinevere had been waiting to meet her gaze before she answered.

  “How do you feel about that? Would he be worth plane fair?”

  “Long distance involvements, Guinevere. They don’t work.”

  “Sex and making love with a man are as different as the day and the night. Until you’ve been with a man who has shaken your heart, you have not made love. Believe me. There’s no comparison. No explaining or describing the emotional combustion that results from making love.”

  This woman didn’t pull any punches. “And you’ve had that kind of love?”

  She gazed over the fields of flowers and her voice sounded far away. “An everlasting love.”

  Carrie sat in silence. What could she say after that? Guinevere had ventured into the past. Carrie would not intrude.

  After a lengthy moment, Guinevere cleared her throat and turned to face Carrie. “You are a strong-willed woman, like myself. If this young man made a lasting impression on you, you’ll figure it out. Now, do you want to come with me?”

  And that was that.