Prima Donna

by Drewry, Laura

  There. A smile.

  “Maybe later.” Fresh color crept over her cheeks, bringing lots of freckles with it. Lots of freckles. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”

  “Forget about it. I seem to be a lightning rod for yellers these days, so if it makes you feel better…have at it.”

  “Thanks.” Her laugh was soft, quiet, as she pushed off the couch and headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  For half a second, he considered staying on the couch, but she was all the way in the kitchen—a good ten feet from where he was sitting—and that was ten feet too far.

  “So tell me,” she said. “How did you find me last night, anyway? I’m not in the book.”

  Carter leaned against the back of one of the bar stools and shrugged. “I…uh…”

  “Nick told you, didn’t he?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Damned Scotts,” she muttered. “What else did he tell you about me?”

  “Nothin’ much; blood type, tax bracket, that kind of stuff.” She didn’t have to tell him he was full of it; those eyes said it clear enough. “Okay, let’s see. You’d give your right kidney to a friend if they needed it, but you’d rather die than take one of theirs.”

  Her shoulder lifted slightly, but she didn’t respond.

  “You’ve never had a pet of any kind—he thinks that’s wrong, by the way—and apparently you’re completely useless with a hammer.”

  “Hey!” she cried. “I’m not completely useless.”

  Carter raised his hands and grinned. “I’m just telling you what he said.”

  Regan stood with her glass pressed against her bottom lip, her eyes narrowed a little. “What about you? How’re you with a hammer?”

  “Excellent. I also cook, do my own laundry, and my sutures are like works of art.” When her only response was a lifted brow, Carter stuffed his hands in his pockets and started over. “Okay. The only thing I cook is lasagna, but it’s five-cheese if that makes a difference.”

  “What about the laundry?”

  “One load,” he admitted. “Colors, whites…I’m a guy, it doesn’t matter.”

  Her mouth lifted in a slow smile. “And the sutures?”

  “Oh, those are the real deal. No scars when I stitch you up.” Why couldn’t he stop thinking about kissing her again? Not just kissing her, but slipping his fingers through her belt loops and tugging her right up against him; sliding his hand through her hair and…

  Focus.

  “Let’s see.” Carter cleared his throat. “I’ve had a subscription to National Geographic since I was ten, I think Pete Rose is an idiot but still deserves to be in the Hall of Fame, and I have a signed Stan Smyl jersey that only gets worn when I go to a game.”

  “I should probably be impressed.” Regan’s grin twitched slightly against her glass. “But I don’t have the slightest clue who Stan Smyl is.”

  “Are you shittin’ me?” When she shook her head, Carter closed his eyes and groaned, long and loud. “And here I was beginning to think you might be damn near close to perfect. Stan Smyl…played his whole career with the Canucks…Steamer…Captain for eight years…they retired his number for crying out loud…really? Nothin’?”

  “Sorry.” She shrugged slowly. “But your man-crush on this Stanley Steemer guy aside, I’ll give you full marks for the lasagna thing. Any guy who knows his way around cheese can’t be all bad.”

  “That’s it? I give you all that, and the only thing you appreciate is the cheese?” Her faint honey-vanilla scent teased him, pulling him in until he was close enough to count her freckles.

  “Not the only thing.” Regan licked her lips and pressed her hands flat against his chest, only this time, she didn’t pull him closer, she held him back. “The sewing thing’s good, too.”

  “It’s not sewing. It’s suturing.”

  “Tomato tomahto.” Her shoulder lifted in a mock shrug. “And even though I was sure I’d regret it, it’s kinda nice that you’re hanging out with me even though I’m in a bad mood.”

  “Damn, woman,” he murmured. “If this is you in a bad mood, I can’t wait to get hold of you when you’re in a good mood.”

  She released a sound that was part laugh, part groan, and ducked away. “That’s not going to happen until I finish jazzing up my résumé enough to land a job.”

  “And you’re going to do that now?” Not only now, but apparently right now. He’d barely inhaled again, and she was gone, reappearing a second later with a laptop that she set up on the little table under the window.

  “Bills won’t pay themselves, Carter, and the sooner I get my résumé out there, the sooner I get a job.”

  Right. Résumé. Job.

  “Ever done any office work?”

  “If you mean filing, answering phones, making appointments, working with spreadsheets, and paying bills, then yes.” She stopped, grinned, and wagged her brow at him. “I can even do most of those things with scissors in one hand and a comb in the other.”

  He didn’t doubt it. “Do you type?”

  “Sure. Well, I don’t do ninety words a minute, but I’m well above finger-pecking. Why?”

  Carter shrugged slowly. “Rossick and Jules are looking for a receptionist, so I told them I’d ask—”

  Before he knew what had happened, she hurtled herself across the space separating them, threw her arms around him, and squealed.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah,” he laughed, struggling to keep them both from crashing over. “The woman they hired up and quit on them this morning and they need someone who can start on Monday.”

  “That’s so great!” She pulled back a little and winced up at him. “I mean, it’s not great that the other woman quit, but…”

  “They’ll have to meet you first, and I can’t guarantee they’ll hire you just because we’re…” With each word out of his mouth, Regan pulled back farther until there was a good couple of feet between them.

  “We’re what?” she asked tentatively. Arms folded over her chest, she raised both brows at him, waiting for some kind of response, which he didn’t have. When he didn’t answer, she went on, her pretty mouth curling up into one of her smart-ass smirks. “I don’t know what you think this is, Carter, but one night of mind-blowing sex isn’t going to send me running out to get your name tattooed across my butt.”

  How twisted was it that the more she said things like that, the more he liked it? The more he liked her? And it helped that she’d gone from saying last night had been good to admitting it had been mind-blowing.

  After a few seconds, she glanced down at her feet, but her eyes flicked back to him twice before she blushed and laughed.

  “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re cute and all, but being able to melt my knees is not going to help pay my bills, so if push comes to shove, I’m sorry to say…” The corner of her bottom lip disappeared behind her top teeth as she frowned, then sat down in front of her laptop. “Wait a second. You’ve been here all afternoon—why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

  “I started to when I first got here, but then you mentioned last night and I sort of got distracted.” Carter grinned. “And then you started yelling about how no other job would ever be as good as what you had…”

  “Oh yeah. Oops.” She winced over her grin. “My bad. Sorry.”

  “Sorry enough that you’ll come with me to dinner at Aunt Deb’s?”

  “No.”

  The fact she never even looked up from her screen made Carter laugh. “You wanna take a second to think about it?”

  “What? Oh, sorry.” Her quiet laugh floated toward him, made his grin widen. “Still no. I need to spend the night padding my résumé with so much BS your friends’ll think I’m some kind of brain surgeon and hire me on the spot.”

  No amount of pleading would sway her; she just continued to shake her head even as she focused on her computer screen.

  “Not gonna happen.”

>   “You’re telling me that inside information on a full-time job with benefits isn’t worth sitting through a simple meal with me?”

  “With you, sure,” she laughed. “With the whole Scott clan? With Ben? No. Way. In. Hell.”

  “Then how ’bout this?” Carter leaned a little closer, pushed his fingers against her laptop until it started to close and she looked up at him again. “You forget about the résumé, I forget about dinner with the family, we order a pizza, and watch The Empire Strikes Back?”

  “Oh no,” she snorted. “Jayne’s probably expecting you there to help run blocker between her and Deb, and I’m not going to be the reason you end up on her hit list.”

  “Too late.”

  “What? Why?” She pulled her hair back and tied it with a white band she fished out of her pocket. “What did I do?”

  “Not you. Just me.” Carter tucked his phone away and started for the door. “She ripped me a new one when I got home last night. Apparently she doesn’t think you and me are a good idea.”

  He heard Regan mutter something behind him, but when he looked back at her, she just smiled and held out his helmet as he shrugged into his jacket. Instead of opening the door, though, he just stood there staring at her, knowing he should leave, but not quite able to go yet.

  Arms crossed, Regan smiled slowly and blinked up at him. “So, um, today turned out better than I was expecting. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He wrapped his fingers around her waist, brought her close, and leaned in, but stopped when she tensed, her hands settling on his arms.

  “I…it’s just that…” Her breath was short, raspy. Sexy. But she dropped her gaze—not a good sign—then inhaled slowly, taking a long time to look up again. “There’s so many reasons why we can’t do this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like it’s never a good idea to dip your pen in the company ink.” Carter started to object, but she talked over him. “I know you don’t own the clinic, but your friends do, so it puts this right up there beside the inkwell, and if I get the job, it means we’ll be working with each other every day.”

  When he grinned at her, she just rolled her eyes and chuckled.

  “Exactly,” she said. “Last night was…yeah…but I meant what I said; I’m not looking for a relationship, and I’m sure as hell not going to be your next flavor of the month.”

  “What about—”

  “And honestly, Carter, I have too much going on right now to spend time trying to figure out how to keep you or any other guy happy.”

  “Any other guy?” Carter frowned. “What other guy?”

  “And besides all that,” she went on, ignoring his frown. “I’m pretty sure there’s some kind of friend code that prohibits friends from dating each other’s cousins. It’s like dating your best friend’s sister.”

  “See, now you’re just making shit up.” When she laughed quietly, he leaned in again, closer, but didn’t kiss her. Not yet. “I’m not asking you to tattoo my name across your butt, Red.”

  “I know, but let’s be serious for a second. I don’t do picket fences and minivans, remember? And I’m pretty sure the mere mention of those words gives you hives, am I right?”

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  “Exactly,” she said. “So what good can come from this? It’d only be a matter of time before we both started looking for a way out, and I won’t be the one who makes things awkward between you and Jayne or you and your friends if they give me this job—which they probably won’t if they think we’re together.”

  He cupped her face between his palms and slid his thumb across her cheek, so soft, so perfect.

  “I can’t decide if I should be flattered you’ve put so much thought into this or offended that you came up with so many reasons in such a short amount of time.”

  Her quiet laugh settled inside him, warm and smooth, even as she added the final brick to the pile.

  “You know I’m right.”

  Of course he knew she was right; didn’t mean he had to like it, but after a few seconds, he finally gave in with a slow sigh.

  “I should probably warn you that I’ve never stayed friends with a chick I’ve slept with, so I’m not sure how this is supposed to work.”

  “Well.” A slow smile tugged at her lips as she covered his hands with her own and gently pulled them down. “Since I’m not a chick, I bet it’ll be easier than you think.”

  “Yeah, right.” With a resigned grunt, he forced a smile he sure as hell didn’t feel. “Bring your résumé by tomorrow morning and I’ll put in a good word for you. Fair enough?”

  “Thank you.” She looked up at him, but there was no smile this time, just a glimpse of the wall he’d already come to hate. “Who knew you were such a nice guy?”

  Truth be told, no one was more surprised than him. With a low, muttered curse, he pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall, letting her hand slip slowly through his.

  He backed into the elevator, never looking away from her until the elevator doors closed between them. She was right; neither one of them wanted a relationship, so they’d be doing each other a favor by leaving it at one night and moving on before they made a mess of things.

  The problem was, though, now that he’d been with her, now that he knew how her full pretty lips tasted, how her soft curves felt pressed up against him, and how his name sounded as it slipped out of her on a long satisfied sigh…well, now…now he was just screwed.

  Royally and thoroughly screwed.

  How the hell was he supposed to not think about her? Not touching her, not feeling her smile under his kiss was going to drive him crazy, but if that’s what she wanted, if that’s what made her happy, what choice did he have?

  Seeing how happy she’d been when he told her about the job was one of the best things he’d ever…wait a second.

  Since when did making some chick happy take precedence over making himself happy?

  Carter scrubbed his palms down his face and grunted out a curse. Twenty-four hours ago the answer to that would have been never, but then he’d stood beside Regan and watched her heart break as her business drove off in the back of a battered U-Haul. From that second, something changed, and for some unknown dumb-ass reason, he wanted to be the one to make her happy.

  Shit!

  Chapter Five

  “Look, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.”

  Han Solo, The Empire Strikes Back

  After a brief check in the rearview mirror, Regan took a few deep breaths and walked into the clinic. Or she tried to, anyway.

  Dozens of boxes teetered precariously atop a chaotic jumble of bubble-wrapped chairs, bookshelves, sections of desks, and two large couches, all of which jammed what should have been the reception area and one of the hallways.

  Regan was sure one good hard breath would have brought it all crashing down around her, but that didn’t stop the guy in the work shirt from pushing through the door behind her with another large leather five-wheeled office chair.

  It took all the restraint she had not to send him right back outside with it until there was room to move. How did anyone think it was a good idea to keep piling things up? And why wasn’t anyone moving anything past that hallway?

  Two men hunched behind the reception desk acknowledged her with brief nods, then went back to work, one hooking up a computer and the other bent over a phone system that looked like it had come straight from NASA.

  Voices rose down both hallways, and none of them sounded terribly happy.

  This was, without a doubt, the worst time to have brought her résumé. She should have discussed timing with Carter before he left last night.

  “You two go, then I’ll go when you get back.” Carter’s voice preceded him into the hall. He caught her eye and grinned, sending a crack of electricity ratcheting through every cell in her body. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” Regan breathed slowly, and thumbed toward the jumble o
f furniture. “If I’d known you were setting the place up like Jenga, I would’ve worn a hard hat.”

  “Yeah, most of this was supposed to be delivered tomorrow or Friday, but stuff just keeps coming and all we’ve managed to do is write our initials on what’s ours.” His grin widened the closer he got, but his voice lowered to a deep whisper. “You look great.”

  No she didn’t, she looked like someone out on a job hunt, with her black pants and pressed white blouse. Even her black pumps were boring, but the way Carter stared at her with that wolfish grin of his, she might as well have been standing there buck naked.

  Flashes of the night before blazed through her mind but in every single one it was Carter who was buck naked. What a sight he was, stretched out on her bed, his lean muscular body inviting her to take whatever she wanted.

  And boy, did she take. Without hesitation, she’d touched him in ways she’d never touched anyone else, and she’d let him…

  This is not the time to be thinking about that!

  Maybe if she breathed in and out nice and slow, she could push back the heat coursing through her body, but there was no way to camouflage the freckles she knew had to be standing out now.

  With a quirk of his left eyebrow, Carter’s gaze roamed over her face, then lingered a second too long on her hair. He spoke so quietly, she almost didn’t hear him.

  “You kidding me with the hair down like that?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to shush him when a tall man behind him cleared his throat and all but shoved Carter out of the way.

  “Hi.” Grinning broadly, he took her hand and shook it with gusto. “Charlie Rossick.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said. “Regan Burke.”

  “Are you the one…” A pretty woman with hazel eyes and long chestnut hair pulled back in a messy knot stepped around both men, clicking her tongue as she did. “Are you the one Carter told us about?”

  “I, uh…” Regan glanced at Carter who nodded. “Yes.”