“No! Don’t stop by. Don’t sit. Don’t—”
Marina glanced at Caroline and blinked. “Oh, you’re working.”
Roger’s hair fell in his eyes as he hitched it to the side. How long had the man gone without a haircut? “Nope, not working. Marina, this is Caroline. Caroline, Marina.” He waved to acknowledge both women.
That was an introduction? No explanation, just names? Could this be one of his bevy of sisters? Caroline scrutinized her features. No, not in this lifetime. The only way she’d be a sibling was if she’d been adopted. Not to mention the panic—or was it guilt?—written all over his features.
Caroline had witnessed scenes like this on television but never in person—when the guy runs into two of his exes at once. Or maybe only one ex—her—and one current woman of the moment? Hmmm. Funny.
The warm buzz of the rice wine debated. Caroline dropped both palms to the table and rose. “Well, I can see you two need to talk. I’ll just make a trip to the ladies’ room then take off. Thanks!” She waggled her fingers and tromped away.
Now what?
Chapter Twenty
Caroline stared at her reflection in the mirror. The spiked, short hair was getting old. Time for a change. She changed hairstyles almost as much as that blonde girl probably changed shoes. So what? She liked the variety. Besides, she still had no idea who the woman staring back at her, through all the wild colors and hair, really was. She kept searching for meaning, but none ever came.
What was she doing hiding out in bathrooms to avoid Roger and the calamities that followed him? Wasn’t that indication enough that she should keep away? She scrolled through her text messages. One from her father caught her eye.
Did you know your toes are worth more than my car?
She grinned. Okay, the pictures weren’t exactly vulgar or indecent. A bit provocative maybe, but not completely nasty. She smiled at herself. Very provocative, actually. She wished that kind of artistic blood flowed through her veins. “It’s for a good cause,” she told her reflection.
A toilet flushed and a fiftyish well-dressed woman with dyed blonde hair stepped to the mirror. She pulled a lipstick out and leaned forward. “Honey, they’re all a charity case at some point.”
Caroline frowned. “Who?”
The woman waved the lipstick. “Men. I assumed that was what you were talking about. Was I wrong? Sometimes we need them desperately and other times they need us. Yin and yang. Give and get. It’s what makes everything work.”
Caroline’s current mood didn’t condone correcting the woman’s impression. She wasn’t making over Roger, and she certainly didn’t need him—or his numerous issues. Nor did he need her. “Good point. Thanks.” She exited the bathroom and weaved her way around the corner of the room, conveniently avoiding the table she’d vacated earlier.
What a stellar evening. Roger sure knew how to entertain. She shoved through the door of the restaurant, relieved that she hadn’t been called. A gust of wind roared into her face. Now, if she could just find a ride home without having to deal with—
“Hi.” Roger’s vehicle idled on the curb of the restaurant. Front and center with him leaned against it. A toothpick dangled from his mouth. “Thought I’d just wait for you here, considering how long you take in the ladies’ room.”
Caroline growled. “Where’s Mandy or Marny or whatever her name is?”
He shrugged. “Marina. Don’t know. I left her at the table after the check was paid. You ready?”
If there was a cab in sight, she’d have taken it—but there wasn’t. She stepped to the vehicle, and he opened the door. “Yeah.”
“Good. Did you know your feet are worth a small fortune? I got a call from Don a minute ago. That picture of your toes trailing in the sand sold for seven grand, and the one with green that you liked topped out a little over eleven.”
She hadn’t said she liked it; she’d just recognized everything in it.
He rounded the vehicle and joined her. When the car revved into action, she grunted. “Just shows you how stupid people can become when it’s for a good cause.”
“Or generous. You won’t believe what that little shot of your hip went for.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to know.”
He snickered. “Too funny.”
“Pictures of body parts on sand aren’t exactly art, you know. People take those all the time. In fact, I took some ... ” Shit. Just like that, her thoughts went across the world to a tiny body rattled with gunshot. Sprawled in pieces on sand like a fine steak displayed on dirty rice.
Seconds dragged into minutes as he waited for her to finish, but it wasn’t possible for her to continue. When he pulled into the drive at her house, she hopped out and headed for the door. One. Two. Three. Four steps. Six more, and she’d—
A steel grip clamped around her wrist and whirled her backward. Right into his chest. Polo cologne blasted her senses as his warm fingers took her by the chin and lifted until their gaze met. Was that sympathy in those big brown babies? No. She didn’t want it—didn’t need to be coddled. The creases of the dimples caught in her porch light, but his mouth never arched at the sides. “Go ahead. Finish what you were saying, Caro. Tell me.”
She jutted her chin. “I was just going to say I took some, too. They just weren’t as good. That’s all. You should think about changing colognes, or cars, or shoe styles. You haven’t changed at all in six years. You even smell the same. Change is good, right?” He had changed. She lied because she desperately needed to get into her house and close the door. He’d changed from a sweet-faced boy into a devilish-dimpled—whoa.
Roger crushed her mouth with his. No warning. Nothing. A nice, warm kiss that lasted longer than she’d expected—a kiss that slipped into something much, much more. Before she knew what was happening, his tongue was stroking hers, and her malfunctioning brain cells decided not to intervene. Instead they must have left her head completely, because she pulled him inside the door and onto the couch.
All she could see in the light filtering through her living-room window shade were—dimples. Damn it all to hell, she loved his dimples. She moved her mouth down to drop a little action into the left one, just a slight kiss, then he slid out from under her and she fell. Flat on her ass onto the carpet. “What’s wrong?”
He sat on the couch panting and shook his head. His hair flopped from side to side. No words. Was he speechless?
“Why’d you stop?”
More panting. He swallowed. “You’re like a yo-yo: up one minute, mad as hell the next. Then this—wow. You scare the shit out of me, Caro.” He chuckled between breaths.
She smiled. “Likewise.” She leaned back on her elbows and slid her knee against him.
“And just for the record, I wasn’t stopping. I just needed some space to breathe. I’d kind of forgotten this part.”
What part? He’d forgotten how they were? “Forgotten? Was I that boring?” In truth, she’d never really dated anyone before him, so if he said yes, it wouldn’t have surprised her. She had gone through a slew of men since.
His voice came low and husky as he crawled over her, his body stretched above hers arched and threatening. “No, no, not boring. Not even close. All-consuming, maybe.”
She trailed a finger along the stubble on his chin. Yes, she’d always been prone to confrontation and pushing past her limits. Until now. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“That’s the part that terrifies me: I’m not sure if it is or isn’t.”
Funny thing was, she felt the same way about their odd chemistry. She frowned. One of the things about Roger she’d always liked was that he wasn’t one of the dangerous types—the ones who chew women up and spit them out like splintered toothpicks. She’d encountered plenty of those. Sure, he pretended to be, but she wasn’t born yesterday. Any man who had three sisters and still talked to them can’t get away with much. Not when it comes to treating women badly. He was as in-your-face as she was, bu
t when the rubber hit the road, he had a person’s back. He expected the same, too, which posed a problem because she wasn’t at all reliable. Not anymore, and that was the terrifying part.
She pushed him off and sat up. “You’re right. We should stop.”
No. Wait.
“Stop?” he said. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
She swallowed, trying to soothe the scratchiness in her voice. Why did it suddenly feel like a furnace was blasting her intestines? Unsure how to handle the situation, she chose to do what she did best—bark. “Back off, Roger.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Caroline was clearing counters when Abby blasted through the door, bringing a wind in her wake that sent ribbons, leaves, and foil paper flying toward the ceiling. A Hail Mary to the forcefulness of her entry.
“I think I want to kiss you.” Abby strode toward Caroline with arms wide, and Caroline half-expected her to actually plant a big wet one.
Jutting a hand up with fingers splayed, she grimaced. “Save it for that threesome Carter keeps talking about.”
“We’re over the hump.”
“Ookkaaay. Glad to hear you guys are keeping it spicy.” Or not—she really didn’t want to hear the details. As much as she loved her friend, some things just needed to stay private.
Abby laughed and leaned over to pick up a few pieces of ribbon and confetti. She tossed them at Caroline. “Not that hump. The financial hump. We, as in you and your massively fantastic advertisements, have managed to get our store out of the bind we were in. We’re having a black month.”
“Black month? Don’t you think that will come back to bite us?” She teased, knowing full well her implication.
“Yeah, funny. We need to celebrate. We should go out and have a girls’ night. I can’t believe we don’t have to go to the bank for money this month. This is awesome, you are awesome, and I love you.” Abby jumped on the counter and wrapped her arms around Caroline, drawing her in for a tight squeeze.
Caroline’s throat tightened. “Awwg. Stop! You’re choking me—and choking me up at the same time.” She patted one of the arms that had lodged against her throat twice before slipping from the hug. “Girls’ night sounds good. I could go for that. God knows we could both use a little relief.”
That night they locked up and waltzed down the street to the bar across from the police station, an irony that Abby never hesitated to point out to anyone that would listen. Any idiot who walked out drunk and got into a car with the police across the street deserved a DUI. Yet, to her confusion, they’d never heard of even one occurrence. Of course, on any given day, there were three or more off-duty cops saddled against the bar with a frothy beer in their hand. Who would dare argue?
Caroline was deep into a vent about her blog-buddy, Frederick, when a waft of Polo caught her attention. She rotated and peered over a shoulder. Crap. “Did you tell Carter where we were?” Trailing behind Carter, with hands in pockets, was the very man she’d practically attacked on her living-room floor. She furrowed her eyebrows at Roger and glared at Abby, who simply shrugged.
“Yeah, that’s okay, isn’t it? He dropped me off this morning, and I needed a ride home.” Abby hadn’t mentioned which home—hers or Carter’s. They’d recently become engaged in a very romantic fiasco at the Astros stadium. As much as Caroline hated to admit it, she’d almost shed a tear for their happiness.
“Do I have a say? I thought this was a girls’ night out. They don’t exactly fit the description.”
“I know, I know. But sometimes you just have to be flexible. Carter’s leaving tomorrow to go back overseas for two weeks for work. We have to—”
Caroline held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. I get the picture.”
Carter leaned over and dropped a big one on Abby’s mouth. “You ready, babe?”
Caroline’s ears registered the words. “Wait. You’re leaving?”
Carter remained standing, while his accomplice, Roger, made use of the empty space beside Caroline. She probably should have scooted over and given him room, but—what the hell. She sighed and inched away from the warmth of an arm against her rib cage. Fine, take the seat if you want it.
Abby rose and nodded while taking the last sip of her beer. “Yeah, sorry. We’re making Chinese tonight. You ever tried making shrimp wontons? They’re fun.” She giggled and glanced at Carter in way that suggested some sort of inside joke.
They left. Caroline blinked as the door whooshed shut, leaving her alone with Roger and his massive dimples. The last time she’d seen them—him—she was up close to those babies and trying to taste them.
Awkward.
“Well, here we are.” She focused on her beer glass, inwardly cursing herself for the last order of Corona the barmaid placed in front of her.
Roger held up two fingers. The girl nodded and was gone.
She didn’t dare touch her drink. “I just want you to know the only reason I’m not making a big deal about those pictures—which you’ve shared with the entire world—is because of how much money you raised for the hospital.”
He turned his gaze to meet hers. “Okay.”
“Plus no one can actually tell it was me, and they were good. I never knew you liked photography.”
“You inspired me.”
She rolled her eyes.
Roger ran a finger along the rim of his glass. “I’m serious. I remembered all the pictures you took and the excitement you had for that trip. It all sounded so glamorous. I wished ... ” His voice trailed to silence.
She swallowed a tiny lump. “Yeah, well, look how it all ended. I bombed, and here I am now, pursuing—whatever.”
“You own a business.”
“A flower business. Did you ever think I’d be into plants?”
He shrugged. “Actually, I’m not surprised at all. You were always growing something on your porch, so for you to make it a part of your income is great. I just thought your heart was set on journalism.”
She sighed. “People change.”
“Not always.”
He was right. He hadn’t. She admired that now. “True. You, Rog, have stayed on task and kept your promises. Rock solid, that’s you.”
He groaned. “You make me sound boring.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
The cocktail waitress appeared and asked if they were hungry for a snack before the kitchen closed. Roger lifted a brow, and Caroline pulled a menu from the waitress’s hand. “I think he is. Let’s see.”
She handed the menu to Roger and he ordered quesadillas. She had the same. They ate in near silence, talking briefly about the Astros then Carter and Abby’s pending wedding plans. When they left, he walked her to her car. She fumbled with the keys, and he took them. “I’ll drive you.”
“How will you get back?”
“In my car.”
Oh, he planned to drive his car. Why’d he take her keys? “But I have work tomorrow.”
“I’ll take you.”
She knew what that meant. “No. You are not staying over.”
He groaned. “I meant I’ll come by and pick you up in the morning, then take you.”
“In that case, okay.”
He jingled the keys. “Do you have to be so difficult about everything? Sometimes just going with the flow is so much easier.”
“I went with the flow, remember? It didn’t work out so well.” She stifled the twitter in her girlie parts that reminded her of the last time they’d been together in her place. Going with the flow in Roger’s case was tempting—and dangerous.
In her driveway, he waited for her to step from the car before getting out. “Caro, do you still take pictures? I mean, now that you don’t really do news articles any more, does it still interest you?”
She spoke with her back to him as she approached the door. “I take pictures for our website and blog and anything else we use to advertise. I do a lot of selfies with my phone.”
Her attempt at humor had failed to impress him.
She twisted her key in the lock and pushed the door open. Roger remained outside. A tinge of cold stung her shoulders. “Thanks for the ride.” She rotated to give a smile. Should she hug him? Or ...
Roger leaned in and kissed her. Short, sweet, and over before she expected. Nice. He hopped to the sidewalk and strode away. Why was she disappointed?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Roger thought about Caroline as he drove the short distance to retrieve her before work. Her store was obviously a compromise, and as much as she loved plants, he knew she was still searching for something. She was on her front step and stood up as he turned the car into her drive. Her store wouldn’t open for another hour and half, so there was no rush.
She’d changed her hair. When had she found the time? It was still short, but the spikes were gone. Instead it curled into her cheeks and lay flat on top. “No wild-colored pants or hair today?”
She shot him a frown. “I was tired of it. Besides, change is good, right? Why are you so early?”
He jingled his keys. “Not too early, apparently, because you were waiting.”
“I’d just watered my plants and was enjoying the quiet morning. I was ... relaxing. You know, seizing the day.”
He couldn’t help himself. “I have something you can s—”
A light shriek emitted from her mouth, and she jutted her index finger at his nose. “Don’t say seize. I’ll call a cab, I swear.”
He lifted both hands and showed his palms. “I’m not saying a word. Are you ready to go?” Until that moment, he hadn’t looked at her feet. They were bare, and her toes had white polish with something painted on the big toes. She padded to the door.
“Give me five minutes.” She returned in two.
She’d changed out of jeans into a skirt, without her usual leggings. It was a distraction, but he wouldn’t complain. He liked the look. “I like your hair.”
“Thanks.” She traipsed to the car with him trailing behind.
“Nice skirt, too. Why?”
“Why not?” she snapped. She clicked the door solidly into place and crossed her arms to stop any further inquisition.
Need Me Page 13
