She’d always been a sucker for hair.
She stood behind the guest chair in her office, watching Ethan as he worked. Ethan’s long fingers flew over the keyboard, typing, clicking, cutting, pasting, sending rows and rows of code into the black-and-white space that was her website.
Or, he could be launching missiles from her desktop, for all she knew.
“You get done what you needed to do?” he asked, without looking up.
“Sort of. Trying to track down a missing check, that’s all. It’s in the mail, as they say.”
She tried to laugh, but it fell flat, even to her ears. She’d bought some new equipment recently that she couldn’t afford to pay for, without this money.
“Damn,” he muttered, tapping his fist lightly against his chin. It looked like he hadn’t shaved that morning but instead of looking dishevelled, it gave him a stylish, GQ sort of look.
Quit it, Carrie!
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve found more of my old pictures online.”
“No, no,” he said, “but you’ve got bigger problems.”
She seriously doubted that.
“Like what?”
He started talking about things like firewalls and routers and templates and violations and when he got to malware and optimization and e-commerce functionality, she stopped him.
“Just tell me, can you get my main website working again? Safely?”
He swivelled the chair to face her. “I’m going to have to rebuild your site, from scratch. It’ll take some time.”
And time, as Carrie knew, meant money. She bit her lip. Grandfather Nate had lent her the start-up funds to get Forever Yours Photography off the ground. She knew she could go to him for another short-term loan, but that would mean explaining what she needed it for. He was already dealing with Jessica; Carrie was supposed to be the granddaughter that didn’t cause trouble. Or embarrassment. Or shame.
“How much will it cost?” she asked.
He crossed his fingers together in his lap. “A lot. But I’m thinking we might be able to work a trade.”
He looked away as if uncomfortable with the suggestion.
“You want me to take pictures of you?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s sort of a… personal request.”
Oh, God. Men were such pigs. She’d heard this before. Take your clothes off once in front of a camera and people made all sorts of assumptions.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said, backing away. “Apparently I was unclear yesterday. Let me correct that. Whatever you think is on offer is not, so you can shut down those dirty thoughts right now, buddy. Just because I took naked pictures of myself doesn’t mean I’m for sale. I’ve never done casual sex and I’ve no intention of starting now, even as a so-called trade. I’m not that kind of girl.”
She stopped to catch her breath and realized that throughout her tirade, Ethan had begun smiling. Now, he was fighting a full-on grin.
It made her want to smack him with a tripod.
“What,” she asked slowly and precisely, “is so funny?”
He turned his face into his shoulder, holding up a finger. But then his shoulders started shaking. A snorting sound came from behind the hand he had pressed against his lips.
“Are you… laughing… at me?”
This time, she walked up to him and shoved him, hard enough to send the chair skidding backward. Unfortunately, it knocked her off balance, taking her upper half along for the ride, while leaving her feet planted on the floor.
The chair banged against the edge of her desk and before she knew it, Carrie lay sprawled across Ethan’s torso, her face against his shoulder, close enough that she could not just hear the regular thud-thud of his heart, but she could feel it, too.
He smelled like spices and heat and sunbaked earth. His firm jaw pressed against her cheek and the bristles on his chin felt, oh heavens, they felt like something she wanted to rub her entire body against, like it might satisfy an itch she hadn’t even been aware of, but now was the single thing occupying her brain.
His legs gripped hers and his hands were on her waist, his palms meeting skin where her t-shirt rode up, the heat of them spreading through her like butter melting over a hot pan. Everything about him was hard and chiselled, like he was made of material that was somehow more than flesh and bone and blood, stronger. Impenetrable.
He was holding her, keeping her from falling further and the word that best described the feeling was… safe.
“Are you okay?” he said, still smiling.
Instantly, the spell was broken. She pushed off him, noting again that her hands barely made an impression against his hard chest. She disentangled her legs from his and stumbled backward, the perfect vision of awkwardness. Her limbs were rubbery and jumbled up. She leaned against the wall, crossed one foot over the other, then uncrossed it. Her face was pulsating with heat.
“Sorry,” she said, then mentally kicked herself for the default reaction. “No. I’m not sorry. You should be sorry, implying-”
“I know you were telling me something important,” he said, mischief dancing in his black eyes, “but then you threw yourself at me and I lost track of the conversation.”
“I did not throw myself at you. That was an accident.”
The nerve of him.
“You made the first move.”
“Because you said… you… said…”
“No,” he interrupted calmly, “I didn’t.”
In fact, now she couldn’t exactly remember what he’d said that had gotten her so enraged. It had been insulting.
“Trading services,” she said, relieved to get her thoughts back under control. “You insinuated that you desired my services and that you were not talking about photography.”
She crossed her arms in triumph.
“That’s right, Carrie Logan,” he answered. “I don’t want you to take pictures of me. I want to know if you’ll go out with me.”
Shock left her speechless. Go out, as in a date? They’d met each other a total of two times. They had a business relationship, and at the moment, that was iffy.
Her fingers tingled, reminding her of the sensation of his body underneath hers.
“Why on earth would I go out with you?” she said.
“Halo effect,” he answered.
“What?”
“It’s time I made some friends in Cherry Lake. Problem is, people don’t like me. However, everyone likes you. Ergo, if you appear to like me, others might give me a chance. Your halo might brighten me up. What do you say? Will you have dinner with me?”
“Why on God’s green earth would I do that for you?”
“Did I forget to mention? In exchange, I won’t charge you for my work. Trust me, it’s a good deal.”
She gaped at him. Yeah, it was a good deal. She knew he’d underquoted her for the original estimate; the additional work represented more than she could afford.
“Dinner,” she said.
“Lunch probably too. Drinks occasionally. You’re familiar with the concept of dating, I assume.”
“Of course,” she snapped. Just because she hadn’t partaken in the activity for way too long didn’t mean she didn’t know how it worked. And what it often led to.
“So to be absolutely clear.” She paused to clear her throat. “We’re not talking about sex.”
His grin returned, wider now and something deep down in Carrie’s belly quivered.
“The thought never crossed my mind,” said Ethan. “At least, not until you brought it up.”
He didn’t look like Bluebeard so much as the big, bad wolf.
Chapter Seven
‡
Carrie felt her insides melt like a forgotten bowl of ice cream. How had the conversation suddenly veered onto sex? She hadn’t taken it there.
Had she?
And sexy and dangerous and mysterious as he might be, she wasn’t looking for sex in any way, shape or form.
If anything, her behavior needed to be even more beyond reproach, in case her little secret got out and she needed to defend her reputation.
“We can be seen together,” said Carrie. “But in a strictly utilitarian way.”
“Utilitarian,” he said. He narrowed his eyes. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Like my Land Rover. So you’re not into hot cars, then?”
Her face grew warm. “I didn’t say that. It looks like a very nice car. But we’re not talking about cars. Or… sex. Or… don’t change the subject. I’m setting out some parameters for our agreement. It’s a non-dating agreement, for the purpose of earning you some positive regard among my circle of acquaintances.”
The smile changed from teasing to outright amusement. “Shall I have my lawyer draw up papers?”
She pursed her lips, then frowned, trying and failing to find an appropriate facial expression. It felt like her everyday mask suddenly didn’t fit properly.
Which was ridiculous. She wasn’t wearing a mask. This is who she was. Who she’d always been. Except that now she, who’d been content to play the role of best friend, dutiful daughter, proper role model and town image-maker, had a whole new set of thoughts running through her head.
She’d always thought that the girl she’d been when she posed with the blue vase had been the poseur, a briefly donned costume now used only as window dressing for a select few.
Three conversations with Ethan Nash, and she was questioning her own identity.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” she blurted, then put a hand to her head. “Oh dear. I can’t believe I just said that. Can we both pretend I didn’t?”
Ethan was quiet and when she looked up at him between her splayed fingers, she thought she saw a similar discomfort, a flicker of anger, quickly replaced by fear, followed by something else, something that looked like… sorrow? Fear? Regret?
The inside of her throat tightened. The cocksure, race car driving, innuendo-talking bad boy facade was gone and in its place was someone who was infinitely more dangerous. Maybe she wasn’t the only one wearing a mask.
“I’m sorry,” he said, without looking at her. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ve spent too much time in my own company, I guess.”
No. No. Carrie squeezed her eyes shut momentarily. This made it so much worse.
“It’s me. This thing has been stressing me out and I haven’t been sleeping and I babble when I’m nervous.” She paused, wanting to kick herself. “Not that you make me nervous, of course.”
“Case in point?” he said with a smile.
At least, she thought, any sex appeal she might have held for him would be ground to dust now. As it should be.
“You don’t have a time machine with a rewind button handy, do you?”
“If I did,” he answered, “I’d have worn it out a long time ago. Listen, Carrie, I apologize for my inappropriate comments. It was wrong of me to try and coerce you to spend time with me. My reputation is my own problem and the last thing you need is to jeopardize your own by hanging around with someone like me.”
Is that what he thought? Well, of course it was. She’d told him as much, hadn’t she?
But for some reason, her worry seemed shallow now. She thought it was about keeping her family blissfully ignorant and unembarrassed by her, but really, it was about fear.
“Don’t be silly. I’m a grown woman, not some teary teenager.”
“Forget it.” He glanced at the computer. “I should get back to work. That is, if you still want me here.”
“I still can’t afford you. And the dating thing, well, it’s just not a good idea. Nothing personal, of course. You’re very… attractive. It’s just, you know. This is a bad time for me.”
Someone stuff a sock in her mouth. This was beyond absurd. She hadn’t been this tongue-tied since… well, since talking with Mrs. Terlecki.
But how long had it been since she’d sparred with a man like this? Ages. Years.
“It’s not me, it’s you?” said Ethan, smiling again.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself back to reality.
“What I’m attempting to say is, I’ll be your Cherry Lake ambassador.”
The look on his face was priceless.
“You’ll… what?”
“You know. I’ll show you around. Like a tame tiger. So people can see you’re not dangerous.” She clasped her hands together, tapping her index fingers against her mouth. “So, where should we start? Someplace ordinary, where everyone goes, so it’ll seem natural. Grocery store? No, too domestic. I know, I could take pictures of you and your dogs at the park.”
“Seriously? I’d love that.” Then his expression changed. “But I better not bring my dogs anywhere public at the moment.”
“Why?”
He made a face. “I need to work Gun a little more before I inflict him on the world. Other ideas?”
“I’ve got it.” She poked an index finger at him. “Hardware store. It’s a manly sort of place, guys respect that. And we’ll have you helping me with something. That’ll make you look like a gentleman. Even though,” she arched a brow at him, “I probably know my way around a tool box better than you do.”
“I doubt that,” said Ethan. “But on that note, what am I supposed to be helping you with? Since you’re so self-sufficient, and all?”
The careless confidence was back, she saw with relief. This was much better. Arrogance, she could withstand. Vulnerability though, that would be a problem. This was definitely better. Safer. That was the main thing.
She thought for a moment.
“You’re a security guy. You could help me buy a security system. My dad’s been pestering me to install one, anyway.”
“Cyber-security,” said Ethan. “Not home security. It’s like comparing brain surgery to wart removal.”
“So you’re a big deal, I get it. Perhaps this is part of your problem, ever think of that? Come on, it’s a good plan.”
*
He was a hot guy, with a hot car, and she – Carrie Logan – was in the passenger seat.
Who’s the virgin ice-queen now, huh, Tony Caputo?
Get a grip. This isn’t high school anymore.
She pulled her thoughts back into line. She was still the same good, old Carrie. She wasn’t Ethan’s date. She’d made that extremely clear. She wasn’t really even a client, since she wasn’t paying him. So what did that make them? Business associates? Acquaintances?
Friends?
Was anyone friends with someone like him?
He pulled into one of the angled parking spots outside the hardware store and jerked up the emergency brake. But rather than undo his seatbelt, he sat there for a moment.
“Thanks, by the way.” He looked over at her. “For doing this.”
All the confused bubbles bouncing around inside her popped and fizzled.
“It’s nothing,” she said. “You’re the one doing me a favor.”
“Maybe from your point of view.”
She reached across and patted his arm. “I’m happy to do it. You’ve got that whole Bluebeard thing going on, but you know what? I suspect that underneath it, you’re not completely bad.”
He looked at her hand. Instantly, the air in the small car grew hot and thick and she was viscerally aware of how close he was to her. Only the console stood between his thighs and hers. When their eyes met, she could see caramel-colored flecks glittering in his dark eyes.
She yanked back her hand. After shutting him down the way she had, what was she doing, touching him?
“You’re something else, Carrie Logan,” he said, apparently unaffected. “But your delusions work in my favor. Let’s go.”
The atmosphere in the car cleared. Carrie removed her seatbelt, suddenly lightheaded with the shift in his mood. She wasn’t accustomed to being so closely… watched.
Or, rather, it was the sense of being seen, that unsettled her. Most people, she’d found, gave only the mo
st cursory attention to those around them. Perhaps it was a factor of Ethan’s solitude, but when he turned his attention on her, she felt like he’d turned off every other thought in his head. Like he was a scientist and she was the most important, the most interesting, the most unusual, the most disconcerting specimen he’d ever encountered.
She felt… fascinating.
She stepped out of the car and thumped her head on the frame.
“Ow,” she said with a laugh, falling back into her seat.
Instantly, Ethan was at her side, his hands on her head, parting her hair, looking for an injury.
As his fingers explored her scalp, moving across the nape of her neck, touching the backs of her ears, heat sparked through her. She could stand there all day, letting him touch her like this.
If she let herself. She pulled away.
“I’m fine, Ethan, just clumsy and embarrassed,” she protested.
“You’re going to have a lump.” He smoothed her hair over the spot one last time, with such tenderness, such caring that a sense of the fantastical rose up inside her.
This wasn’t the touch of friendship. Was it?
He held out his hand and she took it. His grip was warm, slightly rough and his hand was so big hers seemed to disappear within it.
“You okay?” he said, looking closely at her.
She was dizzy, but not from the bump on the head. She was breathless, but not from any injury.
She was definitely not okay.
“I’m great.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“You can stay here, while I purchase the necessary items,” he said. “I’ll bring you a bottle of water.”
“My part of the deal is goodwill by association,” she said, pushing past him and closing the car door behind her. “For that to work, we have to associate. Come on. If I faint, I promise, I’ll let you catch me. Imagine the points you’d get for that.”
He grunted, something that sounded suspiciously like what might have been, in another man, laughter.
Bubbles filled her chest again.
Oh dear.
He was pushing all her buttons and checking all her boxes, despite the fact that she barely knew the man. And that her buttons and boxes were just fine, thank you very much.
Her Secret Protector Page 7
