James leaned over and kissed her. It was swift and chaste but Carly got the feeling that if they hadn’t been at the dinner table with eight others, it would have crossed over into the hot and raunchy zone in a nanosecond.
“There was nothing kind about it. Do you know how much I learned about women by reading those books to Gram? Hoo dang, it was like an accelerated class in sex ed, but, you know, it was the stuff you really need to know, not the other junk.”
Carly burst out laughing. Then she leaned close and whispered in his ear, “So, is that where you learned to do that thing with your mouth and your fingers?”
James turned to look at her, bringing his face just an inch from hers. He studied her mouth as if thinking about what he wanted to do there, and then a slow smile spread across his lips and he said, “Yep.”
“Oh, my,” Carly sighed and his grin deepened.
As the plates were being cleared, James excused himself for a moment. Carly watched him leave the room, admiring the way his tuxedo molded itself to his tall, lithe form. She’d been right before. The man was definitely sex in a tux.
“Carly, how about a dance?”
She glanced over her shoulder to see Preston standing there. His nose was swollen. She tried not to feel too much satisfaction in that and failed miserably. He was staring at her with a confused look on his face, as if he was missing something but he wasn’t sure what.
“Um, I don’t think that’s a great idea,” she said.
She noticed that half of their table had already left to go back to the dance floor and the other half was deep in conversation. Without Lola, Tom, or James, she really had no buffer against Preston.
He seemed to realize the same thing at the same moment and his smile turned cold and a bit cruel. How had she ever found this man attractive?
“Come on,” he said. He held out his hand and when she didn’t take it immediately, he leaned over her and hissed, “It would be a shame for everyone to find out about the order of protection I took out on you, wouldn’t it? Bet Pops wouldn’t be so enamored of you then, would he?”
Carly blew out a breath. She took her napkin off her lap and tossed it onto her plate. Even though James knew about the restraining order, she would be absolutely mortified if anyone else found out. How could she possibly explain it in a way that made her sound not crazy? She couldn’t.
She put her hand in Preston’s cold, soft one and immediately missed James’s callused warmth. She knew as she followed him out onto the dance floor that this was going to be the longest dance of her life.
He held her too close. She pushed him back. His hand felt clammy through the fabric of her dress and she tried not to think about whether she’d be able to get sweat stains out of Gina’s favorite dress, which she didn’t exactly know that Carly had borrowed since Carly hadn’t asked her beforehand.
“So, you and James, huh?” Preston asked.
Carly said nothing. She’d found that while men often complained about overly emotional women, much like Preston had about her when he’d dumped her a few days after sleeping with her, they were completely stymied when it came to women who didn’t offer any emotion at all.
“How long have you two been together?” he asked.
Carly maintained her stony silence and continued to stare over his shoulder at the other people on the dance floor. Despite the obvious amount of booze he had consumed, Preston managed to maneuver around the floor like a man who had taken his fair share of dance classes. She wondered if that had been Heather’s doing.
“Really?” he asked. Now he sounded irritated. “You’re not going to speak to me?”
Carly didn’t say anything but she did turn to look him in the eye. She hoped all of the contempt and loathing she felt for him was flashing like a neon sign. Of course, since he was such a narcissist, it was unlikely he would read it that way.
“Listen, I get that you’re pissed at me,” he said. He ran his hand up and down her back in what she assumed was supposed to be a soothing gesture. It only annoyed. “What I did was a dick move.”
Carly lifted her eyebrows. Was he about to apologize? She might go into shock.
“But you made it way more than it was supposed to be,” he said. “I never really asked you out. I was pretty clear that I was just after one thing.”
Carly tripped and he caught her around the waist, using the opportunity to pull her up against him. Carly felt her gag reflex kick in. She pushed back against him, trying to put some space between them, but he was bigger and stronger and had locked his hands together behind her back.
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “Are you saying that I deserved what you did because I didn’t pick up on the fact that you were just out to win a bet to relieve me of my virginity?”
Preston shrugged. “Yeah.”
Carly glanced over her shoulder. The urge to knee him in the junk was almost more than she could endure. She forced it back down, refusing to make a scene at Pops’s birthday bash.
“I followed you last night,” he said. “I saw you and James in the lighthouse.”
“Oh, my god,” she said. “You watched us?”
“Yeah, it was totally hot,” he said. He pressed his crotch up against her and Carly felt his erection through his pants. “I bet it would be way hotter between you and me, just like it was that last time, right?”
“Are you insane?” Carly asked. He danced her into a corner and she shoved him off her, sending him into the wall. “I wouldn’t sleep with you again on a bet. Oh, wait, that’s right. That’s your game, not mine, you manipulative prick.”
She turned and began to walk away from him, but Preston pushed off the wall and grabbed her arm.
“Don’t you walk away from me,” he said.
“Remove your hand or you’ll pull back a bloody stump,” she said.
“Always so dramatic,” Preston mocked. He used his other hand to cup her breast and he squeezed it. “You know you still want me, and I can totally have you if I want.”
“No. You. Can’t,” Carly snarled. “Because no means no, asshole.”
When she tried to shake him off, he refused to let go, leaving her no other choice. She stepped in close and at the last second she jerked her knee right up into his privates.
Preston dropped her arm and doubled over. His pale face turned a mottled shade of burgundy with a nice tinge of green. He was cradling his nuts with both hands and gasping like a fish out of water. Carly did not feel badly for him, not even a little.
“Carly, are you all right? What the hell just happened?” James shouted, looking like he wanted to rip his cousin apart.
“Preston walked into my knee,” Carly said. “Isn’t that right, Preston?”
“Argh,” Preston choked. He shoved his hand in a nearby water pitcher and grabbed some ice cubes, which he then held over his crotch. “You’re pissed at me for manipulating you? Well, wake up sweetheart, I’m not the only one.”
“What?” Carly asked. Maybe his brains really were in his pants because right now he wasn’t even making sense.
“Ask him,” Preston wheezed as he jerked his head at James. “Ask him abou—”
“Don’t!” James snapped at Preston. “Don’t say it.”
He hooked Carly by the elbow and started to pull her away.
“Don’t say what?” Carly glanced between them. “What are you talking about, Preston?”
“Ask him about that job offer you got today,” Preston said. “Ask him about Pops’s being on the board of Penmans.”
Carly’s eyes went wide.
“That’s right,” Preston said. His tone was mocking. “We all know about your new job because James made it happen. He had Pops call in a few Sinclair favors. Congratulations.”
Carly glanced at James and saw his nostrils flare; he looked like he wanted to punch Preston ag
ain. She felt her heart sink as the truth of the situation flattened her spirits. Of course James had gotten the job for her. She should have known that the job, much like this relationship, was too good to be true.
Chapter 31
“Tell her, Jamie, tell her the truth.” With a laugh that resembled a villain’s cackle, Preston scuttled off in the direction of his table.
A large whooshing noise filled Carly’s ears and she looked at James, really looked at him, so she could see the truth in his eyes.
“Say it isn’t so,” she begged him. “Please.”
“I wanted to talk to you about it first,” James said. “But—”
“But what?” she cried. “You couldn’t find the time? No, we’ve had plenty of that. You couldn’t find the words? No, your powers of speech are just fine. So, why? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Listen, I really didn’t do that much,” he said. “The résumé was all yours and you wowed them at the interview—”
“Did I, really?” she asked. “Just how much did you have Pops grease the wheels to get them to hire me? I probably could have shown up in a Viking hat and a wet suit and gotten the job, is that it?”
“I didn’t,” he argued. “I told Pops you were interviewing, and he merely suggested to Lydia that she might want to look at your résumé. He just got it in front of the right pair of eyes.”
“Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got?”
“Hey, you two, come on,” Lola shouted as she dashed past them. “Pops is about to start dividing up the cake. You’d better hurry because I am not saving anyone a whoopie pie!”
“Can we talk about this later?” James held out his hand to her but Carly shook him off.
“I need a minute,” she said. She turned and headed toward the bathroom, grabbing her purse off the table as she went. Her throat was tight and she was sure she was about to dissolve into a puddle of tears. When James went to follow her, she turned back and snapped, “No.”
He sagged against the wall, looking upset. Too bad.
She didn’t go to the bathroom. Instead, she walked past it, out the front door of the house, and into the front yard where the hipsters in the family were vaping. Tom was among them and he waved her over when he saw her.
“Having a good time?” he asked.
He puffed out a plume of vapor that hit the night air like a fine mist. A fine mist that smelled like bubblegum. Carly wrinkled her nose.
“It’s disgusting, I know,” he said. “But much better than the smokes I used to puff.”
“I suppose,” she said. She rubbed her arms with her hands. It was freezing out here and she had no idea what she was doing or why she was out here.
“Oh, hey, here,” Tom said. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You’re clearly freezing. Besides, what sort of gentleman would I be if I didn’t have you wear my coat?” he asked. “A lousy one, that’s what. I insist.”
He gave her no choice but to accept. Carly snuggled into the coat, appreciating the warmth.
“Hey, you guys, you’re going to miss singing and cake!” a cousin whose name Carly didn’t remember cried from the door.
“Oh, right then, let’s go,” Tom said.
They all put away their paraphernalia and headed toward the door. Tom glanced at Carly and she gave him a weak smile.
“I’m right behind you,” she said.
He nodded and the rest of them went inside. Carly felt the unmistakable burn of tears and she tried to push them back before they ruined her perfectly applied cat eye. Sensing failure, she checked Tom’s pocket for a hanky or a tissue. There was nothing. Nothing but a claim stub for the parking valet. Interesting.
Without overthinking it, Carly handed over a small blue slip of paper and the valet nodded at her and said, “Right away, miss.”
He opened a box and matched the ticket to a set of keys and then dashed off into the parking area.
“Your car, miss.” In minutes, the valet appeared in front of her, driving a brand-new bright green Hellcat. Carly tipped her head to the side as she considered it. Yes, it would do.
She opened her purse and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. She handed it to the valet, whose eyes went wide as she shrugged off Tom’s jacket and handed that to him, too.
“Please see that Tom Sinclair gets his jacket back,” she said.
She climbed into the driver’s seat of the car, adjusted the seat, and strapped herself in. Thank goodness her father had insisted that all of his daughters learn to drive a stick shift in case they found themselves in an emergency where that was the only viable means of transportation.
Carly pushed in the clutch, put the car in gear, and stomped on the gas. She sprayed some gravel, making the valet jump back. The sports car had a lot more life in it than the Camaro her father had taught her to drive. She waved an apology, shifted into a higher gear, and shot down the long drive.
At first she was terrified by the raw power under the hood, but by the end of James’s private road, she felt as if she was getting the hang of it, plus it suited her reckless mood. She was getting the hell out of here, away from James and whatever his dubious plans involving her had been, the sooner the better.
She stopped before turning onto the street that would bring her back to town. She heard her phone ring in her purse. She opened it and snatched it out. It was James, shocker. She switched her phone off and tossed it back into her bag.
Then she drove, just drove. In the silence, the memory of that night so long ago began to fill in the void. It was eleven years ago, when she’d been dating Preston or, more accurately, when she thought she’d been dating Preston. Their business major cohort had gone out for beers at a pub in New York. They’d been celebrating getting through finals by drinking themselves stupid.
She’d been feeling very full of herself not only because she had aced her finals but also because Preston Bradley had finally noticed her. He’d been hanging around her for weeks, they’d studied together, had a few meals together, he’d even kissed her twice. She was pretty sure they were dating, and she was certain she was in love with him.
Carly had worn a red dress and left her hair loose the way she knew he liked it. When the hour grew late and the group began to pack it in one by one, Preston had a surprise visitor. He was about their age and cute in a laid back sort of way; Carly didn’t really pay attention because all of her focus was on Preston. It did register that the guy was a relative and he seemed very intent on talking to Preston, who in his usual arrogant way did not seem to care.
While Preston played one more round of darts with his friends, Carly had made small talk with the cousin. The cousin, who was studying to be a physical therapist. It was James! The memory hit her like a slap across the face and she struggled, trying to remember as much as she could.
It was hard bringing the fuzzy details into sharper focus. She hadn’t paid much attention at the time, because it was difficult to converse with anyone while fixating on Preston. Eventually, the dart game wound down and the group left the pub and headed home. When they reached Preston’s apartment, he insisted that everyone come in for more drinks and the party had continued on.
She had seen Preston in an intense conversation with his cousin and shortly thereafter, James had left the party, but not before pausing beside her. He had looked her right in the eye and said, “You deserve better,” and then he had left.
She realized that James’s conversation with Preston that night had likely been about Heather. Irrational or not, she really wished he had mentioned the other woman to her that night. Clearly, his desire to meddle in her life hadn’t reached full bloom until now.
How could he have had Pops intervene on her behalf? He knew she had busted her butt to put on
the presentation of her life. Did he think she couldn’t get the job on her own? Why would James have called Pops to manipulate the whole thing for her if he thought she was any good at what she did?
Clearly, he didn’t believe in her. And that’s what hurt the most. She had really thought that he saw her as a professional woman, who knew what she was doing, but no, she was just another “rescue” of his.
He’d ruined everything. She didn’t know if she got the job on her own merit or if the mighty Sinclair name had done the trick for her. The mere idea of getting the job because of connections made her want to throw up. And the real pisser was that she’d been so excited about this job. She was going to be buying for the entire women’s department, not just the lingerie.
The people she’d met at Penmans had been so welcoming and with such a positive corporate outlook that she’d been willing to overlook the fact that she’d be staying in Maine. But now, that was all tainted by James and his need to “fix” things. Grr.
Carly gripped the steering wheel. Now she was sorry she’d only kneed one Sinclair man in the crotch tonight. She flipped on the radio, using the button on the steering wheel to change the stations until she found a tune that was blare worthy. As Taylor Swift wailed about her ex, Carly sang along, promising that she and James were never, ever, ever getting back together.
In fact, now that she had been burned by two Sinclair men, she was quite certain she was never ever going to let any man into her life ever again, except for the ones who really were her friends.
• • •
“Oh, my god!” Zach cried into the phone so loudly that Carly had to hold it away from her ear. “You stole a car!”
“Borrowed,” Carly corrected him. “I borrowed it, there is a difference.”
She stared at the red traffic light, willing it to turn. She could not put enough distance between her and James.
“Tell me it was a minivan or some other useless POS,” he said. He sounded as if he was begging.
Barking Up the Wrong Tree Page 29
