“There’s a shoe box in the very back corner that looks promising,” Carson said. Looking around, he was annoyed to find that it was out of his reach even with his height and long arms. “How can my mother not own a stepladder or something? I guess I’ll run downstairs and get a chair.”
“No,” Georgia insisted. “I’m sure I can reach it. I just need you to give me a boost.”
Carson looked at her with concern. “A boost?”
“Yes, just make a step for me to put my foot in your hands and boost me up. I’ll be able to reach it.”
It would be just as easy to go get a chair, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. He wanted into that box as soon as possible. Crouching over, Carson laced his fingers together and made a steady perch for Georgia’s shoe.
“One, two, three,” she counted, hoisting herself up.
Carson held her up and patiently waited for news. “Can you reach it?”
“It’s just beyond me. Hold on. Wait… I’ve…almost…got it!” A moment later, it came tumbling off the top shelf along with several others. Georgia lost her balance and dropped from his hands, colliding with his chest.
“Whoa there,” he said, catching her before she could bounce off him and hit the floor. He’d instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her body tight against his own. The contact sent a surge of need through his veins, making him hyperaware of her breasts molded to his chest. Every muscle in his body tightened, his pulse quickening in his throat as he held her. “Are you okay?” he asked as he swallowed hard.
She looked up at him with momentarily dazed eyes. “Yeah… I mean yes. I wasn’t expecting it to all rain down at once.” She pressed gently but insistently against his chest. Carson relinquished his hold and she took a step back. He breathed in deeply to cool his arousal and tried to focus on their discovery instead.
Georgia looked down at the floor of the closet and the mess they’d made. There were several pairs of shoes scattered around the floor. The shoe box they’d sought out, the oldest one in the bunch with the peeling Hush Puppies label, had come open, too. As expected, there was not a thirty-year-old pair of shoes in it. Instead the paper contents had scattered everywhere, making the closet look as if a blizzard had struck.
They both crouched down and started sorting through the mess. Carson found a few pictures bundled together with a piece of twine. He untied them and sifted through the images. A couple were of him and his brothers when they were small. Things like Christmas morning and school pageants. There was one of his mother when she was very young, maybe even a teenager. After that were a few with his mother and some other people he didn’t recognize. He flipped the pictures over, but there was no writing on the back, no clue as to whether the other people were family or friends.
Setting them aside, he picked up some old newspaper clippings. Most of the pieces were about a missing girl named Amy Jo Turner. He scanned one of the articles looking for clues about his mother, but all it talked about was the circumstances surrounding the teenager’s disappearance and how the authorities presumed the worst. Her boat had been found drifting empty in a lake. A single shoe and the sweater she was last seen in had washed up a mile away about a week later.
The header was for a paper in Houston, Texas, and the dates were all in the early ’80s before Brooks and Graham were born. Their mother had never mentioned Houston, much less that she might have lived there at some point. Who was Amy Jo Turner? What did any of this have to do with his mother? It was important enough for her to keep the clippings for thirty years, but he didn’t understand why.
“Carson,” Georgia said, drawing his eye from the photos. “Look at this.”
He took a discolored envelope from her hand and unfolded the letter inside it. It was a handwritten letter addressed to his mother. Impatient, he skimmed through the words to the bottom where it was signed “Yours always, S.” Returning to the top, he read through it again, looking for clues to the identity of the writer that he might have missed the first time.
Dearest Cynthia,
You don’t know how hard it’s been to be away from you. I know that I’ve put myself in this position, and I can’t apologize enough. I seem to destroy everything that I love. You and the boys are probably better off without me. I hope that one day you can forgive me for what I’ve done to you. Know that no matter how much time has passed, my feelings for you will never fade. You have been, and always will be, the one true love of my life.
Yours always, S
That was totally and completely useless. All Carson got from it was an initial. He flipped over the envelope to look at the postmark. The date sent a sudden surge of adrenaline through him. It was a Chicago postmark dated seven months before he was born. That meant something. Could this lover, this “S,” actually be his father? Why couldn’t the man have written his name and made it easier on them all?
“What do you think?” Georgia asked tentatively after a few minutes.
Turning the letter over in his hand, Carson ran his gaze over the words one last time. “I think the person who wrote this letter is my father. It’s the biggest lead I’ve ever had and yet somehow, I don’t feel like I’m any closer to finding out his identity than I was before. What good is one initial?”
“It’s more than you had before,” she said in an upbeat tone.
Carson wasn’t feeling quite as optimistic. “Anything else interesting?” he asked.
Georgia shuffled through some more envelopes that were bound together with a rubber band. “These are old pay stubs. She’s kept them going back for years and years. Other than that, not much, sorry.”
Carson nodded and started putting everything back into the shoe box. “That’s okay. We found something. That should make my brothers happy. I’ll hand this over to them and let them analyze to their hearts’ content. Let’s pack up the last of these shoes and call it a day.”
They slowly gathered up all the bags and boxes and hauled them downstairs to the foyer. When he looked down at his watch, Carson realized he’d kept Georgia here far longer than he’d expected to. “Wow, it’s late. I’m sorry about that. I hijacked your whole Saturday.”
Georgia set down a bag of clothes and shrugged. “I would’ve spent it working anyway. I told you I’d help. I didn’t put a time limit on it.”
“Well, thank you. I got through that faster with you here. I might have given up long before I found that box. There’s still more to go through, but I think what I was looking for is right here,” he said, holding the old shoe box. “I’d like to make it up to you. May I buy you dinner?”
Georgia studied his face for a moment, her pert nose wrinkling as she thought it over. Finally she said, “How do you feel about Chinese takeout?”
* * *
“Can you pass me the carton of fried rice?”
Georgia accepted the container and used some chopsticks to shovel a pile out onto her plate beside her sesame chicken and spring roll. The Chinese place a block from her loft was the best in town. She ate there at least three times a week. Carson hadn’t seemed too convinced about her dinner suggestion at first. He must have wanted to take her someplace nice with linen napkins or something, but she’d insisted.
They drove back downtown to her place, then walked up the street together to procure a big paper bag full of yum and grab a six-pack of hard cider from the corner store. That was her idea, too. Lobster and expensive wine were nice, but honestly, nothing topped a couple of cartons of Jade Palace delicacies eaten around the coffee table.
“Wow,” Carson said after taking a bite of beef and broccoli. “This is really good.”
“I told you. It’s all amazing. And really, you have to eat it while you sit on the floor. It adds to the experience.”
Carson chuckled at her and returned to his food. She’d expected him to turn his nose up at eating on
the floor around her coffee table, but he’d gone with it. She had a dining room table, but she almost never ate there. It was the place where she worked on her laptop, not ate.
“I lived with a family for a while that ate every meal around the coffee table,” Georgia explained. “They didn’t watch television or anything. It was just where they liked to be together. There were about six of us who would crowd around it and eat every night, talking and laughing. I really enjoyed that.”
“Those moments are the best ones,” Carson agreed. “There are some days when I’d give up every penny I’ve ever earned to be a kid again, watching old movies and eating popcorn with Aunt Gerty and Mom. My brothers and I get together and do it every few weeks, but it’s not the same.”
Georgia watched her boss’s face softly crumble into muted sadness as he stared down at his plate, shoveled some chicken into his mouth and chewed absentmindedly. She knew what it was like to miss people that you could never have back in your life. She’d always consoled herself with the idea that there was something better in her future. “You’ll make new moments,” she reassured him. “And one day when you have a family of your own, your children will treasure the little things you share with them just the same.”
“That feels like it won’t happen for decades. Honestly, just the idea of a family of my own seems impossible. I work so much. And even if I found the perfect woman, I’d feel like a fraud somehow. How can I be a father when I don’t know what it’s like to have one?”
“You’ll figure it out. Just start by being there and you’ll already have both our fathers beat. You’re a good guy, Carson. I have no doubt that it will come naturally to you.”
“What about you? You’re not going to have a family of your own while you spend all your free time at work.”
Georgia knew that. A part of her counted on it. What good was starting a relationship when it was just going to end? People always left her—life had proven that much—so she kept her relationships casual and avoided more disappointment. “Right now, the Newport Corporation and its employees are my family. The only family I’ve ever had. For now, that’s enough for me.”
“So you’re not dating anyone?” Carson asked.
Georgia’s gaze met his with curiosity. Was he really fishing for information or just being polite? “Haven’t you heard? Carson Newport is my lover.” She punctuated the sentence by popping the last bite of food into her mouth and putting her chopsticks across the plate in disgust. She could really put her foot in her mouth sometimes.
Carson chuckled and set aside his own utensils. Leaning onto his hand, he looked at her over the coffee table and said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Why not?” she said. They’d already covered their painful childhoods. What could be worse than that?
“Why did you tell Sutton I was your lover last night?”
That. That could be worse. “I, uh…” Georgia started, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. “It just popped into my head,” she said as she got up and carried a few dishes into the kitchen.
Carson didn’t let her escape. He followed her with the last of their dinner and set it on the counter beside her. “That’s it?” he asked as he leaned his hip against the counter. He was so near to her that her senses were flooded with the scent of his cologne and the heat of his body.
With a sigh, Georgia turned to face him. This wasn’t junior high; she needed to be a grown-up about this. The movement put her so close to him that they almost touched, but she felt childish taking a step back. “It was just wishful thinking,” she said, letting her gaze fall to the collar of his shirt.
Carson’s hand came to rest at her waist. “Georgia?” he asked softly.
She almost couldn’t answer with him touching her. The hem of her T-shirt just barely brushed the waistband of her jeans, and his fingers had come to rest in part on her bare skin. It was a simple touch, and yet it made her heart stutter in her chest and her breath catch in her throat. “Yes?”
He hooked his finger under her chin and tilted her head up until she had no choice but to look at him. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment and a touch of excitement as her gaze met his. His sea-green eyes searched her face as his lips tipped upward in a smile of encouragement. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Georgia almost couldn’t hear him for the blood rushing in her ears. Had that kiss the other day been more than just excitement and champagne? “Why?”
Carson slid his hand around to her lower back, pulling her body flush against his own. “Because I lie in bed at night and think about that kiss we shared. I’ve fantasized about holding you in my arms again. I know that I shouldn’t because you work for me, but I can’t help it. And now that you’ve announced to half the company that we’re lovers and the world didn’t end… I don’t have any reason to hold back any longer.”
The longer he spoke, the more she fell under his spell. He was right. Their work relationship could survive this if they handled it like adults. They were attracted to each other. A little indulgence couldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t turn into anything serious and impact their business dealings. No one else seemed to care except Sutton.
“Then don’t,” she said, boldly meeting his gaze.
He took her at her word. Carson’s lips met hers without hesitation. His kiss was powerful yet not overwhelming. Georgia stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck and draw herself closer to him. When his tongue sought her out, she opened to him and melted into his touch.
She had thought the kiss at the hospital property was amazing, but that was nothing, nothing like this. This kiss was like a lightning bolt to her core. As his hands rubbed her back and his fingers pressed into her flesh, all she could think about was how badly she needed Carson.
“I want you,” she whispered against his lips.
Carson broke away from her mouth and trailed kisses along her jawline to the sensitive hollow of her neck. “You’re going to have me,” he said in a low growl at her ear.
His mouth returned to hers, hungrier than before. This was no longer just a simple kiss. It was officially foreplay. Without breaking the kiss, he walked them backward through the kitchen until her legs met with the dining room table. Georgia eased up onto it until she was sitting on it with Carson nestled snugly between her denim-clad thighs. She could feel his desire pressing against her, sending a shiver of need down her spine.
Carson slipped his hand beneath her shirt to stroke the smooth skin of her back and press her even closer to him. He gripped the hem and in one fluid move pulled her T-shirt up and over her head, throwing it to the floor. He took in the overflowing cups of her bra before he reached over his shoulder to tug his own shirt off.
His mouth moved quickly to her collarbone, traveling lower to taste her breasts. Georgia unfastened her bra and slipped it off her arms. She didn’t want anything else between them. This was the skin-on-skin contact she’d craved, and she wanted it now.
Carson groaned at the sight of her before he covered both her breasts with his hands. She felt her nipples tighten as his palms grazed over them. He moved his lips and tongue over her skin, tasting every inch of her exposed flesh before he drew one tight bud into his mouth.
“Carson!” she cried out as the sharp stab of pleasure shot straight to her inner core. She arched her back, pressing herself closer to him and to the touch she desperately craved.
“I can’t believe this is really happening,” she gasped as she looked up at the ceiling.
He planted a kiss on her sternum. “Believe it, beautiful.”
Georgia closed her eyes and gave in to the sensations he was eliciting from her body. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more of his pleasurable torture, she felt his hand slide down her stomach to her jeans. She lifted her hips as he slid them and her panties down her legs.
As he
stood, his eyes devoured her naked body. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out a condom and set it on the table beside her. He kissed her again and let his hand wander over her bare thigh as he did. Carson dipped his fingers between her legs, brushing over her sensitive skin and sending a shiver through her whole body.
He did it again, harder, and this time Georgia cried aloud when he made contact. “Do you like that?” he asked.
“Oh yeah,” she said.
Encouraged by her response, he stroked again and again until she was panting and squirming at the edge of the table. He built up the release inside her so quickly, she could hardly believe it until it was almost too late.
“Stop,” she gasped, gripping his wrist with her hand. “Not yet. I want you inside me.”
“Very well,” Carson agreed. His gaze never left hers as he unfastened his pants and sheathed himself quickly. He settled back between her legs, and Georgia felt him press against her.
“Yesss,” she hissed as he slowly sank into her.
Carson hooked his hands around the backs of her knees and tugged her to the very edge of the table. If he let go, she’d fall, so she wrapped her legs around his rib cage and drew him in deeper. Judging by his sharp intake of breath, he wasn’t going anywhere.
He gripped her hips, holding her steady as he started to move in her. Every stroke set off fire bursts beneath her eyelids as they fluttered closed. Georgia arched her back and braced her hands on the table as their movements became more desperate.
How had she even gotten here? This morning, she’d gone into work with few expectations for the day. By nightfall, she was fulfilling her biggest fantasy with Carson and on the verge of an amazing orgasm. She could feel it building inside her. He coaxed the response from her body so easily, as though they were longtime lovers.
Saying Yes to the Boss (Dynasties: The Newports) Page 6
