by Leddy Harper
“I never got a call or a text.”
He raised one eyebrow and said, “I must’ve typed in your number wrong.”
Logan came around to the back of the car and tugged on my shirt. “Can I have my chocolate now?”
“Oh!” Carter pulled away and reached into his grocery bag. “I got this for you, Logan.” He handed him a thin piece of chocolate wrapped in matte brown paper, the brand name imprinted on the top in decorative script. “And I got one for your aunt, too.”
I took the fancy candy from him and prodded my nephew to say thank you.
“Everyone should have snobby chocolate once in their lives.” Carter winked at me. “You should have dinner with me so you can tell me how it tastes. I’ll have plenty of questions regarding this uppity tasting candy.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
My fingers fondled the wrapper in my hand while I mulled over his offer. My stomach rolled with nerves and excitement. This was what I’d been waiting for all week, and as soon as I’d given up on the idea, I finally got it.
“What do you think, Logan?” Carter knelt down and jutted his chin toward me while staring at my nephew. “Do you think Aunt Tara should have dinner with me tonight?”
Logan’s nose scrunched up and his top lip curled. “Aunt Kara.” His tiny voice added heavy emphasis on the K. It was dramatic and over the top, and it made my face flush with the intensity of frostbite.
Carter’s stare paralyzed me. I wanted to turn away, do something, but I couldn’t. I stood there and fidgeted with the damn candy bar in my hands…and shrugged. It was just one shoulder, my attempt to say it was no big deal; however, the way Carter regarded me told me he didn’t agree.
“Kara?” he asked and stood up when I nodded. “Why didn’t you say something? I’ve been calling you by the wrong name since I met you and you haven’t once corrected me.”
“It’s fine, Carter. I swear, it’s not a big deal. Wasn’t the first time someone got it wrong, and it won’t be the last.” Finally regaining some sense, I closed the trunk and moved to get Logan into his seat.
“How long were you gonna let me call you Tara before you said something?”
I was leaning into the back seat to buckle Logan in, so I figured it was the best time to confess, knowing he couldn’t see my face. “You said my name was pretty…”
He remained silent behind me. When I finished with Logan’s seat, I stood up and faced him. His smile stole the breath from my lungs and the thoughts from my head. “That comment had nothing to do with your name, but I didn’t want to run you off by telling you what I really thought.”
“Which was…?”
“What I really wanted to say was you are pretty. Beautiful. Your eyes are this crazy alluring purple-grey color that could almost be blue—fucking sexy as hell.” He grabbed my chin with his thumb and forefinger to keep me from looking away. “Talk about stories to tell our grandchildren…I left messages on voicemail and texted some chick named Tara, thinking she was you.”
CHAPTER THREE
“Just to make sure I didn’t misunderstand you…your name is Kara Stevens. Correct? As in Stevens with an S on either end? Kara with a K?” Carter leaned across the table between us, his brows slightly arched to accentuate his question. His tone took on a teasing air, but his expression remained serious, which only added to the humor.
“Correct, Carter Hastings.” I winked and took a sip of the wine he’d ordered for me.
About an hour after the grocery store, Carter picked me up for dinner. He’d said pizza, so I thought casual. I wasn’t at all expecting this fancy “real” pizza place where they made every pie behind a glass partition so the diners could watch, and then cooked it in a real brick oven, fire and all. I felt a little underdressed and my short hair looked slightly mused, but he reassured me I was the best-looking woman in the restaurant.
“I still can’t believe you let me go almost a week calling you the wrong name.”
He hadn’t let it go, although he did seem to find comedic relief in the mishap. And so did I. “In my defense…you only called me Tara for one day. You didn’t speak to me the rest of the time. So, really, it’s not my fault.”
His lips curled around the rim of his wine glass while his eyes squinted at me. I could’ve gotten lost in those moss-colored orbs, but luckily, he swallowed and glanced at the table as he set his glass down. The silence swirling around us wasn’t at all awkward. Instead, it filled me with anticipation, knowing he was about to say something, and I nearly held my breath in expectation of his next words.
He extended his arm to my side of the booth and took my hand in his. The prominent callouses on his palm added an obvious contrast to the soft way his fingers twined with mine. “Tell me about yourself, Kara. What do you do for a living? What do you like to do for fun?”
I wasn’t used to someone asking me personal questions or appearing to be genuinely interested in my answers. It caught me off guard and I stilled for a moment, if for no other reason than to gather my confidence in order to answer him. I lifted my right shoulder, suddenly hyperaware of my body language. The muscle in my upper arm burned with the slightest pull. But I managed to stop myself from raising it all the way and immediately relaxed to keep myself from shrugging.
“I’m a kindergarten teacher back home.”
Carter’s eyes opened wide with fascination. “You look so young. I wouldn’t have guessed a teacher. And I can’t even begin to imagine dealing with a roomful of kids that age. You must have the patience of a saint.”
“I’m twenty-five… How old must one be to be a teacher?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up and caused his hairy cheeks to crease. “My kindergarten teacher was like two hundred and ninety-three. Some old British hag who yelled at me every day. I’m pretty sure if I had you as my teacher, I would’ve been a better student.”
“I don’t know how you remember her. I don’t think I recall any of my teachers prior to fourth grade.”
He ran the rough pad of his thumb over my smooth skin, creating a trail of blazing heat along the path. His gaze held mine hostage. “She was awful. That’s how. Although, if I’d had you, I would’ve immortalized you. There’s no way I’d be able to forget you at the chalkboard with your tight little ass in a skirt for me to stare at all day.”
The temperature in the room raised about fifty degrees, and I was almost certain the pizza ovens in the back exploded. My face flamed with immeasurable heat seconds before the glow consumed my neck and chest. I had to look away and pull my hand from his. There was no way I could hold his attention and not set off the fire alarms.
“Did I make you uncomfortable?” His deep voice rumbled with his subtle chuckle.
“Slightly.”
“Well, Kara…get used to it. You’re sexy as hell and I speak my mind when I see something I like. Your hips, your ass. You.”
I shrugged, cleared my throat—almost obnoxiously—and then shrugged again. It seemed I’d developed a tic when in his presence, and it annoyed me to no end. I almost wanted to put a harness around my shoulders to prevent them from rising anytime he spoke to me. “You must get all the ladies,” I mumbled, which was my vain attempt to lessen the humiliation coursing through me.
“Nah. I wouldn’t say that.”
His nonchalance grabbed my attention and I regarded him again with what I hoped were expressive eyes. “That surprises me. You seem like the kind of guy who has women chasing him everywhere. Muscles…” My gaze traveled to his shoulders and then to his arms. “Tattoos…”
He leaned back in the booth and ran his fingers through his dark hair, pulling the errant strands off his face. It was a sexy move, but for whatever reason, it made him seem vulnerable. I’d caught glimpses of his arrogance in the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, even in some of the things he said, but watching him now with his gaze dancing around the room, it was almost as if my compliment made him uneasy.
“I
never said I didn’t get attention. I just don’t really have time to date, so their attention is kinda wasted. And I don’t have this physique and tats to get women.” Something shifted in his tone. It didn’t match his currently shy demeanor, nor did it convey humor. Almost defensive, slightly annoyed, but mostly unentertained.
To ease whatever tension had joined us at the table, I kept the conversation going, if nothing more than to understand where the shift had taken place. “For someone who asked me out and then picked me up less than two hours later, you don’t really seem like a guy who doesn’t have time. Or maybe that’s why it all happened so fast. Get it in while you’ve got the chance.”
Carter’s gaze locked with mine and a stoic expression melted around his sinful smirk. “I always find time to get it in.” His shoulders rounded and he leaned in closer. He pressed his forearms firmly against the table’s edge and absorbed the palpable mortification on my crimson cheeks. “But seriously, Kara…I told you I speak up when I see something I like. Well, I guess you can say I also go after what I want. If I wanna spend time with someone badly enough, I make myself available.”
“When was the last time you dated anyone?” My voice quivered along with my erratic heart. I clasped my hands together beneath the table to keep the adrenaline from causing my entire body to shake like a leaf in a storm. Because that’s how I felt. His stare made me defenseless. With such intensity, his pupils shrank to tiny black holes and the dark circle lining the green nearly took over.
“At least two years ago. Probably longer.”
I gawked at him. “Two years? You haven’t been on a date in that long? I find that incredibly hard to believe.”
The corner of his mouth pulled higher, exaggerating his smirk. “No. You asked when the last time I’d dated anyone was…not when I last went on a date. It’s not the same thing.”
“I guess I don’t see the difference.”
He brushed his hair off his forehead again, and as he brought his hand back down, he ran it over the bristles on his face. His fingernails caught the short hairs on his jaw until the scratching sound invaded the space between us. It was enough to make me clench my thighs together. “For instance, I’m on a date right now. But that doesn’t mean we’re dating. It’s casual, light, fun. We’re getting to know each other without the pressure of labels. I hate labeling anything. When I’m dating someone, it means I’m interested in having that person in my life in a broader capacity than just randomly seeing her. I want more than just getting to know her. But that takes time…time I don’t have. So instead, I meet up with people and enjoy their company for as long as it’s enjoyable.”
I didn’t like how his explanation made me feel.
Cheap.
Unworthy.
But I had to shake it off and remind myself I didn’t know this man. I’d met him a few times and we’d only had brief conversations—granted, one of those was in the men’s bathroom, but I couldn’t allow myself to dwell on that tidbit. As nonchalantly as he could, he’d just told me he had no interest in taking this attraction further, which made sense to me. It would’ve been pointless to start some torrid affair when I had to go back home at the end of my stay.
“What about you?” I asked, shaking off my thoughts and moving on. “What do you do? I know you work at the gym, but are you like a personal trainer or do you teach classes? Or maybe you just walk around saving women who pass out?”
“It’s actually my gym. I own it. I opened my first one fifteen years ago when I was twenty-one.”
It took everything in me not to gasp at his age. I knew he was older, but I never would’ve guessed thirty-six. Maybe thirty—tops. And then I had to force myself to listen to the rest of his speech instead of admiring how well he’d aged.
“It was small, and I pretty much only opened it to give me and my friends a place to work out, but it quickly became the hottest gym in town. After three years, we’d outgrown the small space and I moved it to where it’s at now, where I could expand to accommodate the growing number of members. About six months ago, I decided to expand again. I’m taking over the two units on the north side and opening a warrior training room.” He stopped talking and locked his focus on me, giving me a chance to say something.
“What’s that?” There were many things I could’ve commented on, but for whatever reason, that was the only question I could come up with.
“There’s this big craze—been going on for a few years now—that stemmed from a TV show. It’s basically elaborate obstacle courses that involve a lot of strength and stamina. A lot of gyms have been opening up, offering people the chance to train on courses modeled after the ones on the show. I’ve been hesitant, only because I wasn’t sure how long the fad would last. But each year, when the show opens up for auditions and selections, the turnout is bigger than the year before. I finally caved and set forth on the expansion. I’ve been so busy getting it together.”
“You don’t have time to date anyone because of your gym?” I knew my tone was condescending, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t believe it. It sounded like an excuse to me—an excuse to stay single and get laid whenever he wanted by whoever he wanted. Which was fine; I only wanted the truth.
“That’s part of it, but I kinda have another job.”
“Wow. You must have something against downtime. What else do you do?”
“God, this is gonna sound so lame,” he mumbled under his breath while leaning back in the booth and squaring his shoulders. His fingers weaved into his chocolate tresses where he grabbed a fistful and tightened his hold. I could practically feel my own roots tug with the force of his grip.
“Just tell me, Carter. I won’t judge you. I swear.” I drew an X over my chest with the tip of my finger and settled in to hear his answer. I had to prepare myself in the event he confessed to being a male gigolo—which I could completely see. He was sexy enough I could’ve entertained the thought of hiring him.
“I’m a model.” His attention remained glued to the table. But when nothing other than silence stole the air between us, he lifted his gaze to meet mine, his head still tilted down.
“A model?” My voice hitched in amazement. “I mean, I’m not surprised—look at you. I just don’t know why you’re acting like it’s some awful thing to admit to. Personally, I think it’s pretty cool.”
He grabbed his napkin and wrapped it tightly around his hand, nervously fidgeting with it. His knuckles turned white, and I found myself envious of the material. He’d held me against his chest the first day I met him, and I recalled how I’d felt the intensity of his grasp. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have his knuckles drain of color while taking charge of my body.
“It’s not necessarily embarrassing. I just hate to tell people. They tend to look at me differently after they know. Like I’m some meathead who only cares about my appearance. Don’t get me wrong—I take a lot of pride in my body, but I’m not the kinda guy who uses it in place of brains.”
“I can appreciate that. And I don’t at all think you’re stupid. You own your own business, and from the sounds of it, it’s very successful. It’s an amazing gym. I should know—I’ve been to plenty of them. And I’ve got to admit, yours is the best I’ve been in.” I paused to let my words sink in. When his shoulders relaxed a few degrees, I decided to go back to the topic of his other career. “So, tell me, how did you get into modeling?”
“About four years ago I was approached while lifting weights. She was a local photographer scouting subjects for a spread she was putting together. It was an entire series on the human body, focusing on the lines and forms of bodybuilders. I figured it would be fun, so I agreed. When the images were unveiled at an exhibit supporting the college arts program a few towns over, there were professionals there who wanted my contact info. A fun project ended up turning into Men’s Fitness magazine covers and articles. An agent got ahold of me after the first cover, and at the time, I thought it’d be a good idea to hire her. I
figured I could get paid to talk about my gym and the things I like to do, all while saving money to open more gyms in the surrounding areas. Then my agent got me into ads for underwear, cologne, and jeans. The money was worth it…until people started to make a big deal about it. What started out as a favor to a photographer became a great way to market my business, and eventually, ended up being something I couldn’t escape from.”
“What do you mean? I don’t see anything bad about what you said.”
He raised his eyes to meet mine and the tension lining his brow vanished. Maybe it was what I said, or maybe he realized I wouldn’t pass judgment, but whatever the reason, his posture deflated as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Do you know how hard it is to do my job in the gym when most of the female clientele do nothing but find reasons to touch me? I literally had a woman I’d never spoken to before grab my junk. I may have been okay with it if she wasn’t old enough to be my mom.” His grin slowly reformed as though he found his own joke humorous. “I don’t wanna sound like I’m complaining about being hit on. It was nice at first. I had my pick of women anywhere I went. But that wore off when doing business became almost impossible. Add in the shit my friends have given me and it’s now more of a hassle than anything.”
Being around Carter made me nervous as it was, but add in that he was a model and had women falling at his feet and I became a bumbling idiot. Nothing proved that fact more than what came out of my mouth next. “So you usually have your pick of the ladies? How do you choose? Or do you just enjoy them all since you don’t officially date anyone? Do you have a different one each night?” It was like verbal diarrhea I couldn’t stop.
