She got to her feet and started pacing the small room. “In the last week, I’ve lost two bookings. On top of the wedding. I thought I was being paranoid, but obviously I’m not. I could lose my business, Ethan.”
She whirled around to face him, distress in every line of her face.
“Carrie,” he said, taking her arm. He pulled her closer and she didn’t resist.
“You don’t understand, Ethan. I’m a Jackson,” she said, with emphasis. “I might have my father’s last name, but in Cherry Lake, I’m first and foremost Nate Jackson’s granddaughter, and nothing will ever change that. I could get married and change my name ten times, it wouldn’t matter.”
“You need to move.”
“Stupid thing is,” she went on, ignoring him, “I always knew what would happen if anyone found out. So why did I keep those photos around, where they could be found? It doesn’t even make sense.”
Maybe not to her.
“Carrie, have you ever thought about resurrecting that side of your business? You’re good at it and you’re obviously still passionate about it. Why not?”
“Haven’t you been listening? It’s killing my business. My family gives new meaning to the pillars of society idea. Upright, straight, no secrets. They’d never stand for it.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Carrie. Everyone has secrets.”
He thought of Vincent. He wondered if it would make Carrie feel better if he told her about him. But it wasn’t really his story to tell.
“Not like this, they don’t,” she said.
He sighed. People tried to hide things all the time but in this particular slice of history, it was next to impossible. The virtual world was a great leveller that way. He wondered idly what things the high-and-mighty Nate Jackson might be hiding.
“I can’t believe every person in the Jackson family is a lily-white example of decorum.”
“Nothing like this.” Carrie waved her hand. “Jess is always in some kind of trouble or other. But everyone expects it of her. I’m the one who’s supposed to know better.”
“Wow. You really do have the weight of the world on your skinny little shoulders, don’t you?”
She cast him a dark look. “Maybe I’m overstating it a little, but this is my crisis. Let me enjoy it before I freak out entirely.” She paced the small room, frustration rolling off her in waves. “I never wanted to embarrass them. I knew what would happen if anyone ever found out.”
He caught her arm so she’d stop and look at him.
“Nobody’s perfect, Carrie. Not even you.”
She sniffed. “Believe me, I’m aware.”
Something about the way she said it made him think she wasn’t just talking about her secret photos.
“I don’t think you are.”
She grew still at that and he wondered if he’d hit a nerve. Maybe she’d been told so often she was a good girl that she’d accepted it as her role in life, bearing the responsibility for the family’s good name, regardless of the behavior of the rest of the members.
Perhaps, though this might be reading too much into it, she’d subconsciously sabotaged herself as a way to get free of this burden.
He’d seen her work. He’d seen into pretty much every area of her life. She was as honest as they came, as trusting and trustworthy as anyone he’d ever met. Her boudoir photos were tasteful and respectful and he could see that the women she’d photographed were indeed empowered by the experience.
If her family couldn’t see this about her, then to hell with them. If this town was willing to blacklist her without knowing the truth, they didn’t deserve her.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said.
She looked up at him, her eyes widening. “Don’t lie to me, Ethan.”
“I’m not.”
“Do you have a family?”
He hesitated.
“Then you don’t know,” she went on. “Well, this is my home we’re talking about. My family. My business. This is how I make my living and these are people I care about. And they’re ashamed of me! Maybe that doesn’t mean anything to someone like you-”
He pulled her closer and before he could think about it, pressed his lips to hers. He was desperate to silence her, desperate to show her that he was in fact on her side, that he understood more than she knew, that he cared, that he wanted to help…
But then her hand snaked up around his neck and she threaded her fingers in his hair, holding him against her mouth. She pressed her body against his and swept her tongue against his.
His knees nearly buckled. She tasted sweet and clean and wholesome and fresh and every thought evaporated from his mind, washed out by the electricity flowing between them. This was the Carrie of the blue vase, the Carrie of power and pleasure and honesty and truth and…
He groaned as thought returned. He turned his head to stop the kiss but she clung to him.
He had to stop this before it went any further. What had she just said? She was devastated by the slam to her reputation. This was her home. It was so unfair, what was happening to her. A tempest in a teapot, to be sure, but when you lived in that teapot, well, it had to be rough.
Getting involved with him would only make things worse for her.
“Sorry.” He swallowed, and pressed his forehead against hers. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
She pulled back. “You didn’t do it alone, if you were unsure on that point.”
“Still doesn’t make it a good idea.”
She put her fingers to her lips. “Felt okay to me.”
She was killing him.
“Look, Carrie, you’re upset. You need to get out of here, clear your head, get some fresh air. Let loose. I can help you with that.”
She arched an eyebrow, and his libido gave another lurch.
“What did you have in mind?”
He tossed her his keys. “Let’s go for a drive.”
Chapter Ten
‡
Ethan led her outside to where his pretty little Infiniti coupe sat neatly on the street in front of her house.
“You drive.”
If he’d kissed her as a distraction, it had been an extremely successful maneuver, so much so that she was having a hard time making sense of what he was saying now.
The man had wonderful lips.
And a wonderful car, too. That he was telling her to drive.
She looked down at the keys in her hand. “Seriously?”
“Why not? You can drive stick, right?”
A bit of the crushing sense of defeat lifted.
“How do you know that?”
“Call it an educated guess. You being a country girl and all. Am I wrong?”
Aunt Pansy had been right; Carrie had always wanted to drive a car like this. The sleek lines of the vehicle spoke of speed that Ethan had kept tightly controlled, the few times she’d seen him drive it. And he’d been even more conservative when she’d been in the passenger seat.
She touched the sparkling red paint on the driver’s side door. “Oh I can handle her.”
“I’ll give you pointers, if you need them.”
She opened the door and slid behind the wheel. She adjusted the seat and mirrors until they were all exactly where she wanted them, then pushed the button.
Instantly, the engine roared to life, the powerful growl sending excitement racing through her body.
She gripped the wheel. Everything about the car was tight, snug, beautifully put together and ready to respond to her every command.
“Don’t worry, you won’t break her,” said Ethan. “We can find some back roads if you like. Open her up.”
His gentle encouragement spawned a wild desire to show him that she was more than whatever fragile girl he supposed her to be.
Gravel spit beneath the tires as she whipped the car into gear and took off down the quiet street.
“Holy God, woman.” Ethan grabbed the oh-shit bar above his door. “Wait until we’re out of town, at least!”
<
br /> “Hang on to your hat, cowboy.”
He thought she needed help driving? She’d show him a thing or two. He was angry on her behalf, that was fine. But she didn’t need that. She could fight her own battles, especially with her family.
She could handle Cherry Lake.
A sense of her own power ripped through her like lightning in a stormy sky. She’d handled herself in San Francisco, hadn’t she? And she’d been ten years younger, and alone there.
This was a family scandal to be sure. But she was a grown woman. She had Jess. Aunt Pansy, probably. Nothing embarrassed her. Grandfather too, if Pansy put in a good word.
And despite their conversation, Carrie knew that deep down, she had her mom on her side as well. She might not want to admit it, but she’d always choose her family over the town. Wouldn’t she?
And, then, Carrie thought, there was Ethan.
A kind of insanity fell over her. Suddenly she needed to be wild and crazy, to, as he said, blow every thought out of her head and just move. Fly.
Be free.
The car fishtailed as she turned off Second onto Swan Street.
“Not to be nit-picky,” said Ethan, “but you’re aware of the speed limits, right?”
“Side roads,” she said, taking a quick left to head up the mountain. The car hugged the road like a miracle. “Cops won’t bother us out here.”
“How about paramedics? Will they be able to reach us?” The force of the turn flattened him against the passenger seat door. “Or you planning to have us explode on impact?”
She laughed and leaned forward over the wheel. This was better than she’d even imagined.
“Whoo-hoo,” she yelled. “I love this car.”
The road stretched out in front of them, two narrow lanes of smooth black-top, mile upon mile with no other traffic, no stop signs, no lights, nothing.
The fields were neatly fenced on either side and she knew exactly where the crossroads were, which spots were prone to potholes, where the grass might be tall enough to hide a rabbit or coyote.
She didn’t want to hit anything, of course.
All she wanted to do was disappear into the moment, to leave all her worries behind her, to shriek and laugh and feel her stomach lift and fall with every dip in the road. To be with Ethan in his hot little car and just not give a damn about who said what about whom and why.
None of it mattered, in the end.
In the end, it was you and your maker. Your decisions, your choices, that’s what you had to live with.
You do the best with what you’ve been given, trying to make your corner of the world a better place. If you could go to bed each night certain that you’d done your best, lived according to your own values, whatever they might be, then what did it matter what anyone else thought about you?
Carrie eased up on the gas pedal at the next rise. She was better at this than she remembered. She hadn’t bottomed out the little car, there were no suspicious creaks or groans.
Even Ethan, beside her, had relaxed against his seat back, as if more or less secure in the knowledge that she wasn’t going to destroy his car.
“You’re wasted on that SUV, you know,” he said. “I thought I liked to drive fast.”
“I’ve had a lot of years of old lady driving pent up inside me, it seems.”
Then, as she passed a stand of trees, a familiar whoop-whoop sounded behind her. She glanced in her rear-view mirror and saw blue and red flashing lights.
“Oh, shit,” she muttered. Then burst out laughing.
“Are you kidding me?” Ethan craned around in his seat. “I thought you said there weren’t any speed traps out here?”
She shrugged. “What can I say? It’s been a long time.”
As in, never.
She pulled over and waited for the highway patrol officer to come over to them. It was a young woman, her hair pulled back severely.
“License and registration,” she said, peering through the driver’s side window. “Not to sound cliché, but where’s the fire?”
Carrie bit her lip and fumbled through her purse for her driver’s license, praying she could keep a straight face. Ethan pulled the papers from the glove box and shoved them at Carrie.
“I’m sorry, officer.” A laugh bubbled up but she managed to swallow it. Unfortunately, it came out sounding like a hiccup.
“Ma’am,” said the officer. “Have you been drinking?”
“I really haven’t,” said Carrie.
“She really hasn’t,” said Ethan.
“Step out of the car, please.”
Carrie got out, not even bothering to try and hide her laughter now. It wasn’t funny. Not in the least. She was going to get a whale of a ticket. She was seriously pissing off this cop. She’d done it in the single most recognizable car in the county, which wasn’t going to do Ethan’s reputation any good at all.
She leaned over, bracing her arms on her thighs and laughed and laughed.
The police officer looked at Ethan.
“Come on out, Mr. Nash. Wanna tell me what’s going on here?”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
The officer looked at her watch. “I’ve got time.”
She gestured for the two of them to follow her to the cruiser.
“Family problems,” Ethan explained, putting his hands on Carrie’s shoulders and looking into her face. “Carrie. Honey. Pull it together.”
“She’s… got… time,” hooted Carrie. “I’ve… got time.”
He propelled her to the police car and helped her sit down in the back seat.
“She… called you… Mr. Nash.” She wasn’t drunk but she felt it. She felt like she was watching someone else inhabit her own body, behaving so out of character that it must be a dream or a reality TV show or Candid Camera or something.
“I’m so sorry,” she heard Ethan say quietly. “She’s been under a lot of pressure lately.”
“I’ll need to get a reading.”
“Go ahead. She’s clean.”
The officer busied herself for several minutes making notes, talking into her radio in whatever code law enforcement officers always used to befuddle the normal folk.
Finally she held the breathalyser in front of Carrie. Dutifully, she blew into it. The hilarity of the whole situation was abating now, as the ridiculousness and the irresponsibility of it all began to weigh in on her.
“I’m sorry, officer,” said Carrie, her stomach sore from laughing. “I honestly don’t know what came over me.”
The policewoman noted the reading and marked something down on her tablet. Then she took a deep breath and looked hard at Carrie.
“You’re not impaired due to alcohol consumption, that’s all I can be sure of at the moment. Ms. Logan, I’m not sure what to do with you. You’ve got no history, no priors. You don’t have so much as a parking ticket on your record. But any faster and you’ve have achieved lift-off. It was extremely irresponsible, what you were doing.”
Carrie hung her head and closed her eyes. Irresponsibility. The worst crime, in her grandfather’s eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”
The officer sighed. “Clearly, this is out of character and I know I’d be hearing about it from Nate Jackson, if I ticketed you. Can you promise me that this will never happen again?”
“Absolutely,” said Ethan. “It’s my fault anyway. I should have stopped her.”
Carrie snapped to attention at that. “This is not his fault. This is entirely on me. To hell with what my grandfather or anyone else has to think about this, either!”
“Carrie,” said Ethan.
“Damn it, let me own this, will you?”
One kiss and he thought he was in charge of her. Suddenly, she was furious. Everyone was always trying to protect her, or tell her who she was, or remind her of what would happen if she didn’t behave in a manner befitting a Jackson. That was the whole reason she’d taken off on this joyride in the first place.
“Fine. Give her a
ticket.” Ethan slapped his arms against his sides in frustration. “Take her back with you and throw her in the drunk tank.”
The officer stepped back and motioned for Carrie to get out. “I’m going to let you off with a warning, Carrie. Clearly, there are extenuating circumstances here that are contributing to what I must say has been the most interesting stop of my day. Mr. Nash,”
“Ethan,” he interrupted.
She looked up sharply, then continued. “Ethan, then. If you can assure me that you’ll drive her safely home, and maybe put her to bed, I’ll lose this report. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” said Ethan.
“No, damn it,” said Carrie.
But it seems she’d lost the ability to speak on her own behalf. She stalked back to the hot red car and slammed herself into the passenger seat.
Joyride. There was no joy anymore.
*
The last rays of sunlight shone through the trees as they drove back. Ethan watched the telephone posts zip by out of the corner of his eye, counting down the miles back to Cherry Lake, wondering which she was more upset about, her mother’s visit, or his kiss.
Or if she was just embarrassed to be caught speeding.
“Is it all right with you if I stop to feed the dogs?” he asked. “It’s on the way.”
“I don’t care.” Her voice was listless.
“I’ll be sure to tell them. They’ll be touched.”
“I wonder what the photography market is like in Bozeman,” she said. “Between the porn and the dangerous driving, I can probably kiss my school board contracts good-bye. My family portrait and wedding business will be next. I might as well call the real estate office now. Think I can get a good price for my place? It’s nice, don’t you think?”
She was putting on a good front, but she sounded exhausted.
“I think this would be a good night for that steak dinner, what do you say?”
“Ugh.”
“I can hear your stomach growling from here.”
Her Secret Protector Page 10
