The Ladies' Man

by Susan Mallery

  “I like them,” she said as he opened his front door and let Goldie push into the house first. “Everyone was great.”

  He sighed heavily. “I knew it. This always happens. A guy thinks he’s getting lucky because he’s charming or smart and then he finds out that the only thing his girl is interested in is his family.”

  He was teasing, of course, but even more intriguing was his use of the words his girl. She wasn’t. That wasn’t the deal. But for a moment, she felt a shiver of something very close to longing.

  “I find it hard to believe you’ve ever had trouble getting women on your own,” she said. “So don’t look for sympathy here.”

  “Ouch. After my family and heartless. I’m crushed.”

  He looked good crushed, she thought, studying the strong, handsome lines of his face before finding her interest settling on his mouth. Carter had a lot of good qualities but right at the top was his amazing ability to kiss her until her entire body turned to mush.

  “You’ll survive,” she murmured, knowing she should look away but finding it difficult to do so. Just one little kiss. What could it hurt?

  “Rachel.”

  He spoke her name in a low growl that caused goose bumps to break out on her arms and the little hairs on the back of her neck to prickle.

  She forced herself to take a step back. Right. Be sensible. “Complications,” she said as she reached for her car keys in her purse’s outside pocket. “We don’t need any more complications. There are other things we need to deal with.” Although at the moment, she couldn’t remember what they were.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he told her.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you mean it.”

  Before she could decide if she did or not, he leaned in and kissed her. As it was exactly what she’d been hoping for, she did little more than melt against him and wish she could purr.

  His arms came around her, supporting her, comforting and arousing. She felt his strong hands on her back. Her purse slipped to the ground, but she managed to keep hold of her car keys. That was something, right? That meant she wasn’t totally losing control.

  But it was hard to stay sane when he moved his lips against hers in a way designed to make her go crazy. She couldn’t figure out if it was the pressure, the intensity or some chemical connection that defied description. Whatever the cause, she wanted him right then. The fact that they were still on his front porch didn’t matter.

  She parted for him. He nipped her lower lip before slipping his tongue inside.

  The first erotic stroke made her thighs tremble. The second had her insides clenching and the third had her wet and swollen and nearly whimpering with need.

  He moved his hands up and down her back. She wanted to grab his wrists and guide him so that his clever fingers could touch her breasts. She wanted to be swept away by the most intense passion she’d ever experienced. She wanted…

  He drew back.

  Every cell in her body screamed in protest as he stepped away and gave her a regretful smile.

  “Not a good idea,” he said.

  Of course it wasn’t a good idea. But wasn’t that the point? How could he be rational at a time like this?

  Still, she wouldn’t let him know that she hadn’t wanted him to stop.

  “I’ll be going,” she said, proud of herself to being able to speak in a steady, nearly normal tone of voice. “Have a nice evening.”

  “You, too.”

  A few deep breaths helped clear her mind enough for her to remember their plan. Pretend dating only. Nothing more. A smart woman would quit while she was ahead and Rachel had always been one of the brightest girls in her class.

  Chapter Seven

  “You don’t have to do this,” Carter said, sounding more apprehensive than he should have.

  Rachel held in a grin as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and sighed. “I want to do this. You did a beautiful job remodeling your kitchen. Now it’s time to finish it off.”

  “It is finished,” he grumbled as they walked through the aisles of the large home-improvement store.

  “White walls? Come on. Have a little imagination. Color is our friend. Besides, you get to pick any color you want. You don’t have to run it by your landlord and then plead for your choice.”

  “My choice is white.”

  She chuckled. “No, it’s not. Besides, it’s too stark against the maple cabinets. Quite the bold selection here in Southern California, where most people favor oak.”

  He shrugged. “I thought they looked nice.”

  “They do. They’re beautiful and they deserve something better than white walls.”

  He mumbled something under his breath, but Rachel didn’t mind. If Carter really had wanted to keep those stark white walls, he wouldn’t have asked her to come with him after work to look at paint chips.

  The invitation might fall under the category of “pretend dating” but she intended to enjoy every minute of it.

  “You’re lucky to have your own house,” she said. “I’m saving, but with real estate prices what they are, it’s going to take me awhile. But I have a whole shoe box full of articles and pictures I’ve cut out of magazines, or downloaded off Web sites. I have this dream about the perfect closet, all organized with shoe shelves and hooks for belts and purses.”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “We’re just here for paint.”

  “I know that. Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to completely redo your closets just to satisfy my urges. At least not this week.”

  He groaned and she laughed.

  They walked into the paint department. Carter held out the small drawer she’d insisted they bring along to help with the color choices.

  “So maybe cream?” he said. “Cream would look nice with the maple.”

  “I don’t think so.” She ignored the chips of cream and white and headed to the yellows. “Nothing super-bright,” she murmured more to herself than him. “It has to blend. But nothing too boring.”

  Carter had gone with black appliances, which made it easy, and a fairly neutral black, gray and cream flecked granite. The cabinets were light, and that meant a bland paint color would cause the whole room to fade away.

  “A warm color,” she said. “You get that great morning sun in there.”

  She plucked out three different yellows, then moved to peach. “Hmm, more on the orange side or more salmon?”

  Carter took a step back. “That’s a lot of color.”

  “I know. We’ll grab all the ones that interest us, then narrow the choice down to three or four. Then we buy samples. Better to paint big squares of color on the wall and live with it for a week, than get the wrong color.”

  She fanned out her selections. Rather than pick, he made a strangled sound in his throat.

  “Are you always like this?” she asked. “It’s paint, not a room full of snakes.”

  “I could deal with snakes.”

  “What a typical guy.”

  “That’s me. Mr. Beige.”

  She discarded a couple of samples until they had four she liked and he didn’t flinch at. After collecting the samples, she dragged him over to the fabric department.

  He stared at the bolts of cloth. “Why are we here?”

  “I was thinking I could make some valances for your windows. Nothing fancy, but they’d dress them up.”

  He looked as if he was about to run for cover. “Those go on the top of the window, right?”

  “Uh-huh. The miniblinds are practical, but not especially attractive. Roman shades would be nice, but I can’t see you agreeing to that, what with how you’ve reacted to a little color.”

  He stiffened. “I’m reacting fine. I have samples here. I’m going to put them on the wall.”

  “I know, but you’re pretty whiny about it.”

  He looked outraged. “I do not whine.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I am rational and completely in control
of the situation.”

  She held in a smile. “Okay, so I was thinking of something like this.”

  She pulled out a bolt of fabric and spread out the cloth, then put the paint chips on top. “See how they all go.”

  He frowned. “How did you do that? You just picked that one out and it’s perfect? That’s not right.”

  “I’m gifted. Now, do you like this?”

  He studied the striped fabric. “Yeah. There aren’t any flowers on it.”

  “You’re not the flower type. So we’ll get the fabric, then when you choose the paint color, we’ll use the valance material to pick out coordinating chair mats and a tablecloth for that little table. The simple stripe in the valance means you can get a different pattern for those or none at all.”

  He nodded slowly. “My sisters talk like that, too. Is it a chick thing?”

  “Yes. Most of us are born with the ability to coordinate fabric.”

  He rubbed the cloth. “It’s nice. I like it better than white.”

  “It’s a miracle.”

  “Carter?”

  The woman’s voice came from behind them. Rachel turned and saw a pretty, petite redhead holding a bolt of fabric.

  “Hi, Nora,” Carter said. “How are you?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. Rachel, this is Nora.”

  The other woman nodded. “Hi. Nice to meet you. So you’re with Carter now, huh? We used to go out.” The hunger in her expression said she would like to again. “You look…great.”

  “You, too,” he said as he gently put his hand on Rachel’s shoulder.

  Rachel felt both awkward and uncomfortable. Should she excuse herself so Carter and Nora could speak in private? Good manners dictated that she at least offer, but she couldn’t seem to form the words or make her feet move.

  Nora cleared her throat. “I thought maybe, you know, sometime we could go out for coffee.”

  “Thanks, but this isn’t a good time for me. You take care, Nora.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Well, bye.”

  She shuffled off.

  Carter watched her go, then shook his head. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine. I take it you two had a bad breakup?”

  “Yeah. Usually I can stay friends, but Nora wanted marriage or nothing.”

  “You weren’t interested in her that way?”

  Carter looked at her. “I’m not interested in anyone that way. All my life I’ve been told I’ll meet someone, fall in love and get married. So far, it hasn’t happened. I love women—all women. I don’t cheat, I’m more interested in quality than volume, but forever? Not my style. I don’t need to grow old with anyone.”

  As he spoke his expression tightened.

  “What?” she asked. “Do you expect me to get mad?”

  He shrugged. “I’m braced for the criticism. Most women don’t appreciate my position.”

  “I do,” she told him and meant it. “Why marry someone you don’t love?” She drew in a breath. “That’s what happened to me with my two engagements. I thought I loved the guys, but as time passed, I realized I didn’t. I started to feel trapped. Neither of them understood.”

  He relaxed a little. “So what do you think of marriage?”

  She thought of what she remembered of her parents’ relationship. “I think with the right person, it can be the best part of anyone’s life. I want that, but only when it’s right. And it needs to be for the right reasons.”

  “I won’t ever want to get married.”

  She smiled. “I’m okay with that, Carter. I don’t plan to be one of your groupies.”

  “I don’t have groupies.”

  “Oh, you’re wrong, but that’s okay. I can totally respect not wanting to make a commitment to someone you don’t love. What I don’t understand is not making a commitment to one of these beautiful paints. Now that would break my heart.”

  He grinned. “Fine. I’ll put the damn paint on the damn wall and pick one.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll make valances.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Actually, I’m pretty good with my old, trusty sewing machine. I learned while I was still dancing. Costumes cost too much to buy. None of my foster families could afford it, so I learned to sew.”

  “I don’t mean that. I’ll owe you.”

  “And that’s bad why?”

  “I don’t know how to pay you back.”

  Images of them naked and touching and joining instantly filled her brain. Okay, she could give him a list of ways to pay her back, starting with a few long, slow, deep kisses, followed by some serious naked time.

  Without meaning to, she remembered how his hands had felt on her body. How he touched her with an irresistible combination of aggressive tenderness that had left her weak and hungry for more. He could…

  “Earth to Rachel.”

  “What? Oh.” She blinked at him. “Sorry. What was the question?”

  “If you’re going to do this for me, I want to do something for you. What do you need? Heavy furniture moved? A tree planted in your honor?”

  She laughed. “Nothing like that. But I do have the fall festival coming up at school. Each class has to build a booth. Now that I’ve seen your handiwork, I think maybe you’re the right one to take on the job of being in charge.”

  “Done.”

  “Are you sure? We’re talking about ten five-year-olds and some fairly inept parents.”

  “I like kids, and parents find me very charming.”

  “Especially the moms.”

  He flashed her a smile. “Especially.”

  Carter tucked his too-long hair under a baseball cap and then turned up the collar of his jacket. The truck stop diner was several miles north of Riverside on 1–15. As this was the main drag to Las Vegas, there were plenty of people coming and going. A good place for a private meeting.

  He’d already seen his captain’s car in the parking lot, so he walked in and looked for the table.

  Captain Don Killian was known for protecting his men, so Carter wasn’t surprised to see the older man at a booth in the back. Carter slid in across from him and realized a large pole would conceal him from view.

  “Nicely done,” he said with a grin.

  Killian shrugged. “I had to wait for an old couple to clear out, but I figured this was the best seat in the house. How’s it going, Carter?”

  “Good.”

  The waitress appeared. Both men ordered burgers and sodas. When she left, Carter leaned forward.

  “There’s going to be a big shipment out next week. I’ve got a copy of the parts inventory heading out. The drop is in Chicago, and from there it goes all across the country.”

  Carter was part of a team investigating counterfeit auto parts brought in from other countries.

  While Carter went over the details, Killian wrote down the information.

  “We can intercept this,” his captain said. “I’ll talk to the Feds on the case, but the current plan is we’ll make it look like a highway accident so no one gets suspicious. We’re thinking maybe four or five more weeks on the job. You okay with that?”

  The waitress arrived with their drinks. Carter waited until she’d left before saying, “Sure. I’m good. No one suspects anything.”

  “They will if you keep hanging out at the Blue Dog Bar.”

  Carter grimaced. “That wasn’t my idea. My contact insisted. He thought it would make me nervous to be around so many cops. It did, but not in the way he thought.”

  “You calling ahead helped,” Killian told him. “Jenny put out the word. She’s a great girl. Too bad you let that one get away.”

  “She wasn’t for me.” Jenny had been great, but he’d let her go as easily as everyone else. Most of the time he was fine with his life and appreciated the women he’d dated and then walked away from, but sometimes he wondered if there was something wrong with him…a reason he couldn’t settle down
like everyone else.

  “Just as well,” his boss said. “With this assignment, you don’t need the added pressure of being involved. But when it’s over, what next?”

  Carter looked at him. “What do you mean? I take the next job.”

  “Another undercover assignment? Come on, Carter. You passed the tests, you’re ready to move up to detective. So what’s stopping you? Why do you always turn down the job?”

  “I turned down one.”

  “Most guys would jump at the chance to make detective.”

  Carter shrugged. “I’ll get there.”

  “Why take the test if you’re not interested?”

  “I am interested.” If the man talking had been anyone but his boss, Carter would have told him to back off.

  “Then act like it. Take the next opening. You can’t play forever. Maybe it’s time to grow up.”

  Carter glared at Killian. “What I do is damned important. I make a difference.”

  “You could make a bigger difference as detective. You know it and I know it. So what’s holding you back?”

  Saturday morning started with complete chaos. Ten five-year-olds running through the open classroom, their parents talking in groups and Rachel sorting through supplies left in the small yard off her classroom.

  She knew nothing about lumber or tools, so she wasn’t sure if she had everything she was supposed to have. While she could figure out which wood was which from the size, she wasn’t sure if she had the right braces or not.

  “Need some help?” Carter asked as he stepped out into the yard.

  “Desperately,” she said and held out her list. “Do I have all this? I’ve never made a booth before and to be honest, I have no big plans to make one now. That’s why you and the parents are here. Well, some of you will help me with the card kits, but that’s the easy part. It’s mostly sorting and counting.”

  She was aware she was talking too much, which frequently happened the first time she saw Carter after any kind of absence. She wanted to explain that, technically, it wasn’t her fault. There was something about looking at him that unhinged her brain. Something that made her remember what it was like to touch him and kiss him and…