She blinked, coming back to the present. “When he wasn’t at work, he’d be in his study watching football. I’d take the tray of snacks from the maid and bring it in to him so we could watch together. Over the years I learned everything I could about the game.”
Ridiculous now, to think how she had cherished those times.
If only people knew how insignificant she was to her father, they might not be so quick to believe that she’d known about his crimes.
Joe turned to face her, tightening his arms around her. “Whoa, you just went somewhere dark. Were you thinking about your dad?”
“What?” She looked into his eyes and saw pity there. Wait. He felt sorry for her because her father was a crook? Her breath caught. Maybe he did think, like everyone else, that she had to have known about her father’s scam. Just the notion that he might believe that was like a stab through her heart.
Shoving out of his arms, she scooted to the edge of the mattress. “You know, it’s getting kind of late.”
“Excuse me?” Joe sat up, running a hand through his hair. She could feel his gaze on her, hear the confusion in his voice.
She couldn’t help that.
He’d done it again. Gotten her all relaxed and sated and then, bam, gone for the jugular. Asking her questions, making her remember things.
She stood and padded to the bathroom. Before she could shut the door, he followed her, reached up and gripped each side of the door frame. “What just happened here?”
“What do you mean?” She clung to the doorknob, hoping he’d take the hint and go. Just because he caught her in a weak moment and she’d talked about her father, he thought that meant she was going to get all soft and mushy now?
His expression hardened. “Man, you are some piece of work. You got what you wanted and now I can go, is that it?”
She scoffed. “Don’t pretend there was some other reason you came over here tonight.”
His jaw dropped. “Wow. How cynical can you be?” He pushed off the door frame and strode across the room to scoop up his jeans and underwear off the floor. “And here I was worrying about you,” he muttered as he shoved his legs into his jeans.
“I don’t need you to worry. I’m fine.”
“You’re right. Why did I bother?” He shook his head as he found his boots and tugged them on. “I must be the world’s stupidest average Joe.”
During his tirade, Carly grabbed her robe off the door hook and slipped it on. She followed him out to the kitchen, fighting a crazy desire to apologize, to ask him to come back to bed. She’d even promise to snuggle with him and make him breakfast in the morning. Whatever he wanted.
But this was for the best. “So, thanks for dinner.”
Clamping his lips together, he strode to the front door, unlocked the dead bolt and swung it open. Then he faced her. “Have a nice life,” he told her and slammed the door behind him.
Carly spied his coat still slung over the stool and almost ran after him to return it. It was freezing out there. Instead she left it out in the hallway.
This was just as well. At least she didn’t have to worry about how to get out of that date. She’d regretted the invitation to watch the game together the minute she heard the words escape her mouth. She didn’t want him thinking nights like tonight were going to be a regular thing between them. Her time should be spent on her blog, figuring out how to capitalize on the contest now that Modiste had backed out.
Besides, the guy might as well be wearing a T-shirt that announced he was looking for a house in a borough, a wife and 2.5 kids. And that was the last thing she wanted.
Wasn’t it?
12
DESPITE THREE AND a half feet of snow on the ground, and more expected before morning, O’Malley’s was packed. As soon as Joe walked in, his buddies waved him over. He stomped the slush off his boots and shrugged out of his coat—his lighter-weight coat—then grabbed a stool at the bar next to Wakowski.
“Did I miss any wardrobe malfunctions?” Joe gestured to the bartender for a beer and focused on the big screen mounted in the corner.
“Nah, it’s still the first quarter. But there were a couple of good commercials.” Wakowski tossed some peanuts in his mouth.
Ah, the big game. It just didn’t get any better than this. After coming off a twenty-four-hour shift this morning, this was just what he needed.
“Hey, what’d your ma make today?” Wakowski asked between munching.
“How’d you know I went there?”
“Come on. It’s Sunday, ain’t it?”
Joe grinned. “Chicken cacciatore.”
“Aw, geez. And you didn’t bring me any?”
“It’s out in the car. Your wife burn supper again?”
Wakowski lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Burning it would be more merciful, you know what I’m sayin’?”
Joe chuckled. Wakowski had been complaining about his wife’s cooking ever since Joe had met the guy ten years ago, back when Joe was a rookie fireman. But all the guys knew Wakowski was crazy about his wife even if she was a lousy cook. He lived for her and their five kids.
When the bartender set his beer before him, Joe raised his bottle. “To the first responders!”
Every man and woman cheered and raised their glasses, followed by a brief moment of silence. O’Malley’s was the local watering hole for Engine 288. One wall held nothing but eight by tens of every firefighter who’d lost his or her life on 9/11.
Joe grabbed a handful of pretzels and settled in to watch what was left of the game. Was Carly watching, too? Was she alone? Or did she have friends she watched the game with? Or maybe some other guy?
Thinking about her with some other guy raised his blood pressure. It shouldn’t. She’d made it more than clear on the cruise ship that he was nothing more to her than a quick, good time. And yet he’d come back for more. He must be one sandwich short of a picnic. Had he actually worried about her? He’d even gone so far as to think they might...what? Date? Have a relationship?
He’d given the exercise equipment at the station a thorough workout the past two days trying to burn off the frustration. He’d even called one of the girls his sisters had been trying to fix him up with and made a date for next weekend.
O’Malley’s patrons erupted in a thunderous cheer and Joe snapped out of his wandering thoughts. His team had scored a touchdown and he’d missed it.
He needed to stop thinking about her. To that end, he scanned the pub for interesting females. The bleached blonde was a no. The redhead was too young. A pretty brunette in the corner was sizing him up. But she seemed too eager. Wiggling her fingers in a cutesy wave, nodding at him every time he caught her eye.
He could hear his ma now. Find a nice girl. Settle down.
Carly wasn’t nice. Her prickly personality practically dared him to try to get closer. But that was part of that spark, wasn’t it?
He was doing it again, thinking about her. He sipped his beer and tried to concentrate on the game. This kind of day used to be what it was all about. Surrounded by good friends, in his favorite pub, watching his favorite sport.
His cell vibrated against his hip and he pulled it out to check caller ID. Probably his ma making sure he’d—
Carly?
He almost didn’t answer. He shouldn’t.
Mumbling a swear word his ma would smack him for, he thumbed the answer button. “What?”
She said something, but he could barely hear her. He slid off the stool to head into the vestibule. “Just a sec, let me get where I can hear.” He stepped out to the bar’s foyer. “What is it?”
“Where are you?”
He stuck his free hand in his pocket. Did it matter? “O’Malley’s Bar and Grill. What do you need?”
“I thought you might come over and watch the game with me.”
“Look, Carly. I can’t be the guy you call when you want some.”
Silence.
“Carly?”
“My dad couldn’t
have cared less that I learned about football to be close to him. He barely knew I was alive. My mother lives in New Mexico with her third husband and only calls when she wants something, and yes, being an only child was lonely. I’m still lonely. I don’t have any friends and I know people think I’m a cold witch. I wouldn’t know what to do with a friend if I had one, and I know I was horrible to you, but...I don’t want to be alone today.”
Joe stood frozen between the outer doors and the inner doors. He couldn’t believe she was telling him all this.
“Joe? Will you...will you come over and watch the game with me?”
For the third time in less than an hour he thought about what he shouldn’t do regarding Carly. He shouldn’t go over there.
Aw, who was he kidding?
“Give me half an hour.”
* * *
AFTER TWO DAYS away from him, barely thinking about him more than once or twice a day, okay, maybe more than that, Carly thought she’d exaggerated in her mind how much just being around him intoxicated her. But when he rang her intercom, and she heard his voice, her stomach twisted and her breathing quickened. And worst of all, her hands actually shook as she buzzed him in.
Willing her nerves to calm, she opened the door.
Unwinding a knitted scarf from around his neck, Joe pointed his thumb behind him. “Lucky for me they’re shooting a film a few blocks over.”
“Oh, yeah, I should’ve let you know the paparazzi found a new victim.” She stood awkwardly staring at him. So handsome the back of her throat ached. He managed to make a pair of worn, dark brown corduroys and a forest-green cable-knit sweater look as if they belonged on the cover of GQ.
He cleared his throat and she snapped to attention. “Oh, sorry. Come in.” She widened the door opening and stepped back, wiping her hands on her jeans. “I didn’t know if you’d eaten, so I ordered Indian, just in case.” She gestured toward the white, square, takeout boxes on the coffee table.
His eyes widened as they fixed on the food. Then he shrugged. “I could eat.” He strode to the sofa, shedding the lightweight jacket and tossing it across the club chair. The same chair that held his heavy coat.
“Have a seat.” She gestured at the couch. “You want a beer?”
“Sure.” He plopped down, then draped his arm across the back of the sofa and glanced at her, his expression wary.
Her chest tightened, now she was the one confused.
How could one vulnerable look from this easygoing guy make her feel anxious and insecure? Not even the editor at Modiste had managed to do that.
While he made himself comfortable, she stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. “Halftime’s about to start.” Curling a leg beneath her, she joined him on the sofa, setting a plate, fork and beer in front of him.
Though she rarely watched television outside of football and Project Runway, she was glad now that she’d splurged on the forty-inch flat-screen. She grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. But she felt his stare prickling her skin. She turned her head and got caught in his dark brown eyes.
He was looking at her so intensely, his gaze so serious.
She licked her lips. “What?”
He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, his teeth flashing. “You’re nervous. Is this such a scary prospect?”
She scowled, leaned away, crossed her arms. “Why would I be scared?”
The hand resting along the sofa lifted to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I think the idea of dropping your tough-gal attitude and opening up to someone frightens you. But that’s okay. I’m scared, too.” He inched closer, staring into her eyes. “Why do you have to be so damn tempting?” With a groan he cupped the sides of her head and covered her mouth.
At first his kiss was soft, persuasive. Then he circled his arms around her waist and pulled her close, opening his lips to drink her in.
She was so confused. So, he did want sex? That, she could do.
With a moan, she lay back on the sofa and pulled him down with her, pushing her breasts against his powerful chest. She loved how he felt in her arms. The strain of his hard back and shoulder muscles beneath her palms, the intense heat that warmed her, when she could never get warm on her own.
She sighed, lost in his kisses. He moved his lips down to her jaw, her neck, below her ear. She wanted more. Slipping a hand between them, she cupped him through his jeans.
He made a strangled sound and lifted off her.
It took her a moment to come out of her lust-filled haze. Her body pulsed and ached. There was a void that needed filling. She sat up slowly, straightening her cashmere cardigan. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, I...” He cleared his throat. “I know I came here to watch the game, but I couldn’t resist kissing you. I just got carried away.” He pointed at the TV. “I liked her latest album.” With an arm around her shoulders, he tugged her close and gave the show his complete attention.
Carly blinked. She stared at him while he seemed absorbed in watching the award-winning singer belt out her chart-topping hit. Frustration ignited into resentment. Was he teasing her on purpose? Hadn’t she groveled enough?
But she’d rather have him here than go through what she’d experienced the past couple of days. In his company, she felt as if she mattered to someone. Felt as if he accepted her prickly, difficult nature—liked it, even. Funny how she’d become spoiled to that feeling in just a short time around him.
Which was terrifying. What happened when he moved on? He probably made everyone he met feel that way. He’d even managed to charm the petulant Piper. Best not get too accustomed to having him around. He wouldn’t put up with her prickliness forever. But she’d enjoy it while it lasted, knowing there was an expiration date. With a safety net in place, so to speak, she relaxed and concentrated on enjoying the evening.
The halftime show ended and the sports commentators began their rundown. Joe sat back, one ankle crossed over the other knee. He helped himself to some of the chicken malai kabob and sipped his beer.
Making a plate of food for herself, Carly settled against his side, ate and watched the game. She tried to work up an enthusiasm for the yards gained, the touchdowns, who was winning, but the truth was, she mainly noticed how Joe’s body fit around hers, how his fingers rubbed up and down her arm, how he would absentmindedly brush his lips across her temple while keeping his gaze on the television.
Large snowflakes floated past her window, falling heavier as the night grew later. She drew her wooly blanket up over her legs and snuggled deeper against Joe.
He tightened his arm around her and looked down at her. “You cold?”
Gazing up into his eyes, she melted and barely managed a quick nod.
“Can’t have that.” He slid an arm beneath her and hauled her up onto his lap, circling his arms around her.
Her eyes watered. She slid her hands behind his back and nuzzled her cold nose into his neck.
“Aw, Carly. What am I going to do with you?” He sighed, and then shifted one arm beneath her knees, lifted her as he got to his feet and carried her to her bedroom.
13
GOOD THING HE hadn’t adopted a dog like he’d been thinking he might.
Joe had been back to his apartment exactly once since he left O’Malley’s. And even then it was only to grab a change of clothes. The rest of the time he stayed at Carly’s. Mostly they were wrapped in each other’s arms under her down comforter.
Starvation finally forced them out sometime Monday evening. They ended up at a deli she liked, slugging through the dirty snow until they snagged a cab. But the rest of the time they stayed in, ordered takeout and found a lot of interesting places in her apartment to make love.
Still, it wasn’t just the sex he loved. He discovered he could talk to Carly. They discussed everything from football to politics to international events. She never lacked for an opinion or a unique take on a subject. He found himself considering things he’d
never given much thought to before. And even changing his mind about a couple of issues. She’d have made a great public speaker. But she listened to his opinions, too.
By Tuesday night, he was packing his things to head home. He had to be at the firehouse for his shift tomorrow morning. Carly was in the shower. He could already feel her distancing herself from him. As if, now that he had to leave, their fun was over and that’s all there’d ever be. Would it be like the end of the cruise all over again?
He heard the water turn off and the shower curtain pull back. Stuffing the last of his clothes in his duffel, he opened the door and leaned against the frame, planning on enjoying the view. When she stepped out, he wasn’t disappointed.
He folded his arms to keep from pulling her close and taking her to bed. Again. He wouldn’t have thought he’d want her this soon, but where she was concerned, he couldn’t seem to get enough. Unfortunately, if he wanted to get any sleep before his shift, he should leave right now.
She smiled at him, kind of a sad smile, then pulled a fluffy towel off the bar and wrapped it around her body, tucking a corner in at the top. “I wish you didn’t have to go tonight.”
“Unless we get called to a big fire I’ll be back Thursday after my shift.”
With a grimace, she padded to the sink and grabbed a hairbrush. “I won’t be here.”
“Where are you going?” Irritation sparked. Was she trying to get rid of him again? He pictured her on another cruise, with another guy, which was crazy. He’d never felt jealous before, not even with Lydia.
“Thursday is the beginning of Fashion Week. I’ll be making the rounds from dawn to dawn.” She vigorously brushed her hair.
“Oh.” Of course. She had to work. Even on the day they’d barely left her bed she’d managed to haul her laptop onto the mattress in the wee hours of the morning and type a new post and answer readers’ questions.
Cabin Fever Page 10
