He nodded. "Got it handled. Are you sure you don't want me to go get Portia, however? I'm sure I can charm her away from those guys."
Looking up at him, I didn't doubt in his ability for a minute - but although I wanted to keep the other female models away from Carter, having Portia flirting with him for the rest of the night didn't seem like a good alternative, either.
"No, I've got it," I assured him, giving him a light push towards the door.
As he left, I turned and stomped over to Portia. I expected her to push me aside, wanting to keep flirting - but I wasn't ready for her to loop her arm around me and draw me into the little circle with the three men.
"Ah, Becca! I want to introduce you to these guys!" she exclaimed, taking immediate advantage of my momentary off-guard silence. "This is Damiano, Alain, and Cuther, three of the models who work for Exalt!"
I looked up at the three very beautiful men in front of me, my voice vanishing. I tried to say something, but all that came out was a little squeak. I felt my cheeks turn flame red, but Portia's hand around my shoulders kept me from ducking away.
Damiano, Alain, and Cuther were all objectively gorgeous, I immediately decided. Damiano had the swarthy Italian look, but without the excessive hair that made some Mediterranean men look like they had a gorilla somewhere in their family tree. Alain was tall, thin, pale, and very blond, while Cuther looked like he'd just stepped off the set from shooting a Marlboro commercial. Plop a cowboy hat on his head, and he'd fit in perfectly in any bar in Texas.
"Piacere di conoscerti," Damiano murmured as he nodded his head to me, and I felt my legs wobble. He even spoke Italian? How was Portia not clawing his clothes off and dragging him into a closet as we spoke?
"Er, good to meet you, too," I replied, wiggling a little to free myself from Portia's grasp. "It's very nice to meet you all, but I'm afraid that Portia and I need to be going-"
"Oh, relax, Becks!" Portia cut in, beaming at the men with her perfectly even, white teeth. "We're not in any rush, and Alain was just telling us about how he got invited to this new club downtown! Weren't you, Alain?"
I glanced over at the pale blond, who sniffed as he looked back at me down his aquiline nose. "Well, I'm not sure that it's for everyone," he murmured, not even bothering to disguise the fact that he was referring specifically to me.
My blush faded, along with my moment of warmth from these very attractive men looking at me. "Right, well, I'm sure that you're always a ton of fun, but I really need to get going," I said, finally managing to tug my arm free from Portia's hold on me. "Portia, I'm leaving. If you want a ride, you'd better come."
"No, hold on a minute," she said. I nearly groaned out loud, but Portia had narrowed her eyes up at Alain and wouldn't let me pull her away. "What was that comment supposed to mean?"
Alain's expression shifted to one of faint surprise, as if Portia was obviously supposed to agree with his slight towards me. "Well, some people fit in better at the trendy spots than others," he languidly commented, as if this would make me feel better. See, it wasn't my fault - I just didn't fit in well! No need for me to feel hurt!
"And you're saying that Becca doesn't fit in?" Portia continued, her frown deepening. "That seems rather judgmental, doesn't it?"
"Portia, it's okay," I said to her, glancing again towards the door - Carter surely had the car ready by now - but she just shook her head, her eyes now in full glare.
"Maybe I misjudged you," she said, directing her words not just to Alain, but to Damiano and Cuther as well, who both shrank back slightly from her. "In fact, I think I'm busy this Friday, after all, and won't be able to make that party that you mentioned. So sorry about that."
Alain said nothing, instead just sighing and walking away as if the whole conversation exhausted him, but both Damiano and Cuther looked dejected. "Come on, Portia," Cuther spoke up, his voice carrying a faint Southern accent that matched his cowboy persona. "Alain just gets a bit flighty, he didn't mean anything by it-"
"He insulted my friend," Portia countered, patting me on the hand. "I'm not going to stand for it."
I sighed. I appreciated Portia standing up for me, really, but I just wanted to get out of here. "Listen, she'll call you," I told Cuther and Damiano, grabbing onto Portia's wrist as I stepped backward, towards the lobby's exit.
Damiano frowned. "But we did not yet give her our phone numbers-" he began.
"She'll look them up in the catalogue! So sorry to break things up, have a good rest of your night!" Portia let out a wordless complaint as I pulled her away from the men, back towards the exit, towards Carter's car, towards escape, but I didn't loosen my grip on her wrist.
"Fine, fine, I'm coming!" she said, once I'd made it clear that I wasn't going to let her slip away again. She turned and walked alongside me, out into the chill of the evening air as the sun dropped below the horizon. "I just wanted to introduce you to those new people, maybe open up some other options for you-"
"Thank you," I said through gritted teeth, "but I've got more than enough options right now. I don't need any more." I'd forgotten how exhausting it could be to go out with Portia to somewhere new, especially if I didn't feel up to the task of meeting dozens of new, attractive, out of my league people.
Thankfully, Carter had pulled his car up to the street right outside of Exalt. I opened the back door and nearly pushed Portia in, tumbling in after her and pulling the door shut.
"Everything okay?" Carter asked, glancing at the two of us through the rear view mirror.
"Great!" Portia replied before I could get a word out, smiling back at him as she reached behind her shoulder for her seat belt. "So, where are we going to go next? Time to grab a bite to eat together?"
Chapter Sixteen
*
"So, Portia seems like quite the handful," Carter commented as we sat down in front of folded cloth napkins.
I sighed, picking up my napkin and dropping it on my lap as I leaned back against the leather rest of the booth. "She means well, she really does. And I love her enthusiasm, how she pushes me out to try new things."
"It sounds like there's a 'but' coming up in this conversation."
"Well..." I looked across the table at Carter, wondering how much I really wanted to reveal to him. "Sometimes, I'm just not ready to handle everything that she wants. She's always trying to move me forward, when sometimes I just want to enjoy where I'm at right now and not rush into anything."
Even as these words came out of me, however, I thought that they could just as well describe the relationship between Carter and me as the relationship that Portia and I shared. I thought guiltily about how I'd been basically dodging Carter's attentions over the last few days. I told him, told myself, that I was focused on getting the whole thing with de St. James straightened out first.
But deep down, I knew that at least a little part of me was scared of what might develop between Carter and me, and I didn't want to rush into anything too fast.
We'd at least managed to convince Portia not to come along with us to dinner. I insisted that Carter drive us back to the Halesford Gallery before we went to dinner so that I could collect my own truck, and I kept on poking Portia in the leg and stepping on her toes until she finally got the message.
"I think I'll actually go find my own dinner plans," she told us when we arrived back at the gallery, giving us a wave goodbye. Her eyes lingered for a moment on Carter. "Carter, it was good to finally meet you in person, instead of just hearing about you from Becca! We'll definitely have to find another time for us to talk and get to know each other better."
"Definitely," Carter agreed. I didn't hear the slightest hint of romantic interest in his voice, which gave me a tiny little bit of relief, but I didn't wait for him and Portia to choose another time to come together and discuss things - namely, me.
"Great, great. So Carter, I'll go grab my truck and follow after you," I jumped in, jingling my keys in case he couldn't draw his eyes away from Portia. "And you ca
n lead me to the restaurant?"
'Of course," he assured me - but I didn't miss one last glance that he cast after Portia as she strolled away, back to her own car. I mean, she did have a great butt... but did he really need to look at it, with me right there?
Now at the restaurant with me, Carter picked up one of the menus that our waiter had set in front of us, ran his eyes down it without much interest. "You know, sometimes it's good to take that first step forward, even if it feels a bit scary."
Oh god. He was talking about us, sure enough, not Portia and me. I tried to feign interest in the menu, looking at the different salad options as if the right answer was hidden in the description of the Caesar.
Even though I didn't look up at him, however, Carter leaned forward. One of his fingers gently settled on top of my menu, pushing it down so that I couldn't avoid his brown eyes. "Come on, Becca. Talk to me."
"What do you want me to say?" These words came out a little more aggressively than I'd intended, and I hurried to correct for the harshness in my tone. "This isn't exactly how I planned for everything to turn out," I added, trying to make my comment a little less confrontational.
"I don't think anyone has their life turn out like they intended," Carter sighed, but I couldn't quite sympathize fully with him.
"I don't know. You, Portia, all of those models - they seemed to have their lives pretty together. More than I do." I knew that I was just wallowing in my own sadness, but I didn't have the mental strength to shake it off.
Carter just shrugged. "I'm sure that for everyone, it's more of an illusion than you know."
"Does that include you?"
"I've got things that I'd like to change-" Carter broke off as the waiter reappeared, leaning forward as he politely inquired whether we'd yet made our selection. I glanced down at the menu and made a choice without even reading the words, just pointing at the item. Carter ordered as well, and the waiter faded away.
"What were you saying?" I prompted him, once the man had left with our orders.
Carter started to open his mouth, but changed his conversational tack. "It really doesn't matter, what happened in the past," he said instead. "Instead, it's about where you want things to go, what you want in the future."
"Right now?" I groaned. "I'd settle for actually having a bank account balance that doesn't actively scare me every time I dare to look at it. That's why I'm running around, going to all this trouble, trying to get de St. James to agree to sign on to the gallery. It's all a stunt to try and increase sales."
Across the table from me, Carter nodded, but he didn't look convinced. "Is that all you think about in regards to the future?"
I knew that he wanted to talk about us, but I played coy. "I mean, since I think about it whenever I need to use my credit card, it's pretty much always present on my mind..."
"Dammit, Becca, I'm talking about us!"
I jumped a little at the harsh bite to Carter's words. It looked like he'd surprised himself with his tone, as well, because he leaned back, shaking his head. "Sorry," he apologized immediately. "I didn't mean to yell. I just didn't like us circling around the topic on both our minds. I'd rather confront it head on."
Just like a man, I thought privately, but I kept that particular thought inside my head.
He sighed, reached up to run his fingers through his hair. "So, what do you think? About us?"
"I don't know," I said honestly. "You know that I'm still getting past the whole divorce from my previous ex-husband. I rushed into that because I thought that I knew what I wanted, and it all turned out to be a lie."
"And you think that I'm lying to you?"
"No, not at all!" I replied quickly. "I just... I don't know what I want. Not yet."
As he considered these words, Carter took a sip of his water. I did the same, more out of the need to do something than because my throat felt at all dry.
"You seemed pretty protective of me, back at the modeling agency," he pointed out next when he lowered his glass.
"What do you mean?"
He shrugged, keeping his tone mild. "As soon as we got in there, you latched onto my arm, glared daggers at any other woman who even glanced in my direction." He chuckled. "You seemed like a whole other person! A lioness."
I blinked, surprised by this comparison. He liked the fact that I didn't want other women hitting on him? "I just don't like how all those models immediately started sizing you up, like you were a porterhouse steak," I confessed.
"It would probably be the first steak they'd eaten in years," Carter joked, and we both laughed together for a minute.
As our laughter subsided, the waiter returned, depositing plates in front of both of us. I looked down and saw that I'd apparently ordered a Cobb salad. I cast an envious eye across the table at Carter's plate, with a big burger sitting on top of a small mountain of glistening, deliciously crunchy looking French fries.
Of course, he saw that admiring glance. "Feel free to help yourself," he said, rotating his plate so that I had a clear reach across the table to grab some of his fries.
"Thanks, but I shouldn't," I mumbled out around a mouthful of fries. I swallowed and, with an effort, held back from grabbing another handful. Instead, I picked up my fork and stabbed down at my salad like the lettuce had personally offended me in some way.
"But still, we do need to talk about this at some point," Carter returned back to his main point, just as I lifted a forkful of salad to my mouth. At least whatever chef made this salad hadn't skipped on the cheese and bacon bits.
"Really? I'm happy just going along like this," I tried to say around my mouthful, but he just shook his head at me.
"Becca, I really like you, and I think that we can really have something between us. If you need some time, need for things to go slowly, I can handle that." He sighed, lowering the burger that he held in his hands. "But I can't keep on waiting forever."
"I'm not asking you to wait forever," I protested, even as I admired his ability to eat a delicious looking burger, the sandwich dripping with sauce, and somehow not get a single drop on his immaculately white shirt. How did he do it? "I just need to handle things at work first. That way, I won't be distracted."
"You say that, but there's always going to be something else," Carter said. His voice remained mild, but his words still stung. "You'll never have the perfect moment, when you don't have anything else to focus on besides us. If you want something to happen with us - something real - you're going to need to make an effort for it."
"Me?" I replied. "Why do I have to be the one making an effort?"
Oops. Not what I meant to say. The words were already out, however, and I saw Carter's brows draw down and together.
"You think that I haven't been making an effort?" he asked. His tone was quiet, but I heard anger - and a faint note of pain - in his words.
"No, that's not what I meant-"
"I've been the one who's always dropping by your work, looking for you," he went on, as if I hadn't tried to interject. "I'm the one who keeps on inviting you out for lunch or dinner - and by the way, I have no problems picking up the check each time. I don't care about anything like that - I'm willing to keep on putting myself out there for you."
He reached across the table and caught my hand, gently pulling it down to the tablecloth. "Because I think that you're worth it, Becca," he said gently.
I couldn't bear to look back at his brown eyes, so open and honest. I swallowed, fighting against the lump in my throat.
Carter looked at me for a moment longer, and then released my hand from his soft fingers. "I'll keep waiting, Becca," he said, his voice barely audible. "But not forever."
I didn't have any words to respond to this.
The rest of the meal passed in near-complete silence. I managed to find my voice a couple times to ask Carter about how his day had been, and he shared a few insignificant little stories and facts. Both of us knew that we were just saying words to break up the silence. Like a shark lur
king beneath the surface, we could both sense the real topic swimming back and forth, too dangerous to try and touch further.
At the end of the meal, Carter paid as I guiltily finished off the last of the fries that remained on his plate. The waiter brought back his credit card, and he tucked it away in his wallet.
"I don't suppose you want to come back to my apartment for a nightcap," I tried without much conviction.
He sighed as he stood up. "Tempting, but maybe you need to have a little time to think," he answered, and I hung my head. He was right, as always.
Walking me out to my truck, Carter paused and pulled me into his arms. I prepared myself for just a light kiss goodbye, another little sting to point out that I needed to think about what we had together, but it wasn't coming.
Frowning, I looked up at him. In the darkness outside, I couldn't see his eyes or his expression; his face was hidden in shadow.
As I looked up, his hand crept up my back, pulling me in closer against him. He bent down, and my lips parted when his met mine. This was no chaste kiss! He filled this embrace with passion, and I could practically taste his hunger for me. He wrapped his fingers up in my hair, cradling my head as he held me close, my body throbbing against his to the rhythm of my rapidly beating heart. His tongue explored my lips, and I met it with my own.
"Wow," I gasped out, when we finally separated. "What was that for?"
Even in the darkness, I couldn't miss the momentary sparkle of his white teeth as he grinned at me. "I just wanted to make sure you knew what sort of things came included in this package deal," he murmured.
"Wow. You've given me a lot to think about." I let my hand, resting on his chest, slide downwards. "Is that all that's included?"
Sadly, however, he released me and stepped back. "I'm afraid that you'll need to commit if you want to see everything," he said. He flashed me one last smile, and then headed back to his own car.
I stood alone in the parking lot next to my truck, watching him go, before I finally climbed inside and headed back home to Salem.
Sculpting Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 2) Page 10
