She's All Tied Up: Club 3, Book 2

by Cathryn Cade

  It was then that Carlie’s tummy clenched, as she realized that something was going on.

  By the time Daisy phoned, Carlie was standing at the front window of her apartment, watching with shock and consternation—and a rush of joy so huge and powerful it nearly sent her to her knees as not Trace but Jake mounted her stairs.

  Jake, clad in a tux—a sight she’d never in her wildest dreams thought to see. Jake, with a florist’s box under his arm. Jake, looking so handsome and sexy she was ready to throw open her front door and leap on him.

  Then she looked down at her fitted, revealing gown and scurried back into the hallway, hiding against the wall as if he would break down the door and find her.

  Find her wanting was what she truly feared. She could hear his voice again, saying she was slutted up, the echo that had faded over the last several days once again loud.

  “Jake’s here,” she blurted into her phone.

  “I know,” Daisy said excitedly. “Isn’t it awesome? Does he not rock that tux? Oh, be still my heart, that man is a fine hunk of muscle.”

  Carlie gasped. “You knew he was coming?” And had seen him in the tux?

  “Umm, yes?” Daisy agreed cautiously, as if realizing Carlie might not be as excited by the news.

  “Does Sara know too?” The chime of her doorbell cut into her words. Carlie jumped and then ignored it. “What is going on?”

  “We kind of helped him choose the tux,” Daisy admitted. “We just want you to be happy, Car. You gotta give him another chance. He’s trying to make it right.”

  Jake pushed Carlie’s doorbell, and then waited stoically, flowers under his arm, the sun beating down on his back, clad in too many layers of cloth, the outer one black so it soaked up the heat like a blanket.

  He heard no footsteps inside. What he heard was the sound of children’s voices in the parking lot along with skateboard wheels, and the excited bark of a dog. Then he heard his phone.

  Scowling, he pulled it out of his pocket. Dack.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “She’s kinda jacked up,” Dack said in his ear, his voice sympathetic. “Daisy’s talkin’ her down.”

  “Okay,” Jake said.

  “You good?” Dack asked.

  “Other than I feel like I’m back in junior high, yeah,” Jake retorted.

  Dack chuckled. “She’ll cave. Got a heart like a big ol’ marshmallow, according to Dais.”

  Jake could believe that. He’d noted the way she treated her friends, how polite she was to strangers. He hoped to hell she’d extend that to him.

  Sweat trickled down his back, under his shirt, vest and jacket. Junior high, hell, this felt like he was wearing his fucking body armor, ready to head out in the desert. His belly had the same half-excited, half-jittery ache too, like he had to be ready to kick ass or take a bullet and either could happen at any second. “Hot as hell out here,” he muttered.

  “Ring the bell again,” Dack said. “Daisy’s makin’ progress. Later, man.”

  “Later.” Jake pressed the doorbell again.

  When there was again no answer, he turned, walked down two steps and sat, leaning his elbows on his knees, the florist’s box in the shade of his body. Then he waited. Doing his best to ignore the chilling fear that she was not gonna go for it. That she was done with him.

  “He’s all duded up, just for you,” Daisy went on, relentless. Of course, Carlie could have hung up, but she didn’t.

  “I don’t know, Dais,” Carlie said, knowing she sounded like a six-year-old and not caring. “He hurt me. Maybe I should just let him wait.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Daisy said, her voice sharp. “What do you mean, you should let him wait?”

  Carlie opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  “Just tell me one thing,” Daisy said. “When did my sweet, tender-hearted friend get to be such a bitch?”

  Carlie gasped as if Daisy had kicked her in the stomach.

  “Jake is a Marine, and he’s a dom, for crying out loud. And yet he’s out there, humbling himself,” Daisy scolded. “He spent hours yesterday trying on tuxes with Trace and me and Sara, and then getting one tailored, which, believe you me, men do not enjoy—okay, Trace does but he’s Mr. GQ so he doesn’t count. But Jake? Seriously, Carlie, do you not see this?”

  Wow, when Daisy put it that way… Carlie sidled over to the window and peered out again. He did look pretty damn hot, all duded up in black and white like that. He even had on a vest. God, she loved those fitted vests on a guy, and on his incredible physique—well. Made her knees weaken. For one shattering instant, she pictured herself kneeling at his feet in subjugation, and her pussy spasmed, her breasts tightened.

  Jake also looked hot temperature-wise. His freshly shaven face gleamed with perspiration. Oh no, it must be ninety out there on those steps. She watched him swipe the back of his hand over his forehead.

  He also held his phone to his ear, although he was mostly listening, not talking.

  “Well, maybe I do,” she mumbled.

  Daisy snorted. “Ain’t no maybe about it, sistah. Now, are you gonna woman up and give him a chance, or do I have to come over there?”

  “She’ll open the door,” Trace said in Jake’s ear.

  “Maybe,” Jake muttered. “Maybe not.”

  “She will. I know women, and she’s into you, big guy. So just sit tight, stay cool and be ready.”

  Jake snorted. “Next you’re gonna tell me to go to my happy place.”

  Trace laughed. “You’re gonna end up in your happy place, bro. But not till you’ve earned it. Women love this shit.”

  Jake grunted in acknowledgment, but he knew something Trace didn’t. The place he most wanted to be had changed. Hell yeah, he wanted Carlie bound at his command, wanted to fuck her into Monday morning, but he also just wanted to be at her side, the recipient of those shy, blue-eyed glances and her goofy jokes. He wanted to be the man who put her in his truck instead of watching her drive away in that cute but silly car of hers.

  “I’m gonna end up pussy-whipped like Dack, aren’t I?”

  “Aw, not such a bad place to be,” Trace said. If Jake hadn’t been so preoccupied, he would have heard the melancholy note in his friend’s voice.

  Carlie surprised herself by snickering. “No, don’t come over. Anything but that. Okay, I’ll…I’ll talk to him. I will.”

  “Oh, you’ll do better than that,” Daisy said. “You will go to the goddamn formal with him, and you will be nice. Not too nice, because he still has some work to do, but—Dack! Give me back my phone.”

  But the next voice Carlie heard was Dack’s, his deep voice gentle. “Carlie, honey, you know you owe Jake the chance to make this right. Now go on, open the door, let him in, and then just…take it from there. Daisy’s right. He’s a proud man, honey. Took a lot to get him this far. Don’t know that he would’ve done it for any other woman.”

  Carlie rolled her eyes heavenward, blinking hard as tears filled her eyes. “Ohh,” she moaned. “Do not make me cry again, Dack.”

  “Truth cuts deep, honey.”

  “Okay, I’m going. And…thanks. I think.”

  Dack chuckled. “That’s our girl. Take care. No, Petal, you did your thing, you can talk to her some more tomorrow.” The phone clicked shut on Daisy’s muffled protests.

  Carlie set her phone aside. Then she took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Jake stood, and turned, sliding his phone into the front of his jacket. Holding the box, he mounted the two steps. They stared at each other for a long moment. The stark white of his pleated shirt and black of the tux emphasized his tan, the crystalline gray of his eyes. He looked magnificent, as if his physique, his masculinity had been refined in a sleek, civilized display designed to bring a woman to her knees, at his feet, begging him to be with her.

  His gaze swept down over her and then back up again, taking in every detail hungrily. He cleared his throat, jerked his chin in acknowledgment. “Damn, ba
by. You look…amazing. Beautiful.”

  “Really?” she blurted. “You don’t think it’s too…” She watched him warily.

  He shook his head once, decisively. “No such thing as too much of you.”

  She smiled, feeling it all the way to her toes. “Oh. Thank you. So do you—look amazing, I mean.” This close, the effect was doubled. Make that tripled.

  When she finished her own once-over, his mouth was curved up at the corners, his eyes warm. “You look at me like that, makes it worth gettin’ duded up in this monkey suit.”

  Carlie nodded. “I know it seems over the top, but Martin’s wife wanted a formal party that would echo their wedding, so…he’s making sure she gets it. With his employees to swell the ranks. And believe me, it’s worth it to see you looking like this.”

  He chuckled deep in his chest, then gestured with the box. “Worth it to see you in that dress. So, can I come in?”

  She nodded quickly and stepped back, holding the door open. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry—it’s hot out here.”

  “I’m fine.” He passed her and walked slowly into the middle of her foyer, looking around him. “Looks different in here.”

  "Oh, I just moved a few things." She was surprised he noticed. Cooped up in her apartment, she'd gone crazy one day and rearranged her furniture.

  "Looks good. Looks like you."

  “It does? How?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty. Classy. Cozy.”

  “Cozy?” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re comparing me to my sofa?”

  He stepped closer, his gaze falling to her cleavage and heating up. “No, baby. Cozy, like a man could rest his head and be pillowed in the softest, sweetest place in the whole fuckin’ world.”

  Carlie caught her breath as the tenderness of his words wrapped around her, along with the image of his head pillowed on her breasts. Both were so sweet, she couldn’t stand it.

  She stepped back, fanning herself with one hand. “Please don’t talk like that. Not now. If I cry, I’ll ruin my makeup.”

  He grinned, his teeth gleaming as white as his shirt front. Too late, she saw her mistake. Crap, she’d just admitted his compliments had enough power to bring her to tears.

  “Can’t have you doin’ that,” he said. “Gotta take you out and show you off to all those corporate types.”

  He held the florist box out. “Here, brought you some more of those roses. There’s also a little wrist thing—corsage, I mean.”

  She looked into the box. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

  She would have stepped away, to go and put the box on her dining table. But he reached out one hand and caught hers, engulfing it in his gentle grasp.

  “Later, you and me are gonna talk, baby. All night, if we need to. I still got fences to mend, I know that.”

  He would have said more, but for once Carlie interrupted him. She was done playing it cool. “You have more than fences to mend, Jake,” she blurted. “Try mending my heart. Because it feels like you dropped one of your huge, nobody-can-lift-them-but-Jake weights on it.”

  He stared at her, his gaze burning with something beautiful, something that drew her helplessly closer. It looked like wonder. He moved too, so that when she breathed in, it was Jake—his skin, that sexy cologne, his warm breath. His hands settled on her waist, the box crinkled between them, the corner poking her in the belly. She scarcely felt it, lost in that look.

  “Jesus, baby.” His deep voice shook a little. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes. You gotta know that.”

  Only Jake would apologize with the F-word.

  “You swear, Marine?” she whispered around the butterflies in her middle. They didn’t feel bad this time. They felt like hope, enveloping her heart with wings.

  He nodded once, his square jaw implacable. “Semper Fi.” With one last look, he set her away from him. “Now, you have a jar or something? I’ll put your roses in some water. You get your coat or whatever you wear over a gorgeous getup like that, and let’s go. We got people to impress.”

  It wasn’t a request; it was an order.

  “Yes, Jake.” Carlie let the butterflies wing her into the kitchenette for a vase, then into her bedroom for her wrap and clutch. All the way, her feet hardly touched the floor.

  Jake’s flowers included a wrist corsage of blush rosebuds nestled in green leaves on a stretchy silver band. Carlie waited while he slipped it over her left hand and then turned her wrist wonderingly. “That’s a really nice corsage band,” she said, her eyes wide as she examined the fine silver links.

  He shifted, looking almost uncomfortable. “It’s a bracelet. Something to remember the night. Our first date.”

  “Thank you,” she breathed.

  He nodded. “You ready?”

  “I’m ready.”

  He locked the front door for her, and she walked down the stairs on his arm. Two of her neighbors, a pair of middle-aged women, were out walking. They stopped to watch Carlie and Jake, and smiled. “Don’t you two look fabulous,” one of the women said.

  “Thank you, ladies,” Jake said, and their eyes glazed over at the sound of his deep voice.

  “Out for a special night?” the other asked meaningfully.

  Carlie opened her mouth, but Jake beat her to it. “Yup,” he said. “Our first real date.”

  Carlie looked up at him, amazed that he was sharing this with strangers.

  “And now if you’ll excuse us,” he added. “We need to get goin’.”

  “Have fun,” said one.

  “Boy,” muttered the other. “My first date with my husband was a Bruce Lee double feature with popcorn at the old Baghdad Theater.”

  “Mine was to a college basketball game. Our team lost, and he spilled soda all over my new sweater.”

  Jake looked down at her and grinned, his hard face crinkling. “Got them beat.”

  She giggled, and his arm bunched under her hand, his eyes warm.

  In his truck, both their phones rang at once. Carlie’s call was a text from Daisy. R U going?

  Yes, Carlie texted back. Talk 2 U tomorrow.

  Yay!!! Have fun!

  Jake put his phone to his ear, listened, then said, “Yes, we’re goin’, and I’m not answering the phone anymore tonight. Good-bye.”

  They shared a quick look, and then both of them smiled.

  “Fuckin’ junior high,” he muttered, but he did not sound unhappy.

  Carlie laughed quietly. Then she sat back and enjoyed being chauffeured in a very nice, nearly new, big truck by a man who drove with skill and competence. The cab was neat, without the clutter some guys let accumulate, she enjoyed sitting up higher than the cars on the road, and it smelled like Jake, clean man and spicy cologne, which was the best part.

  The Hotel Revillion in downtown Portland was tucked away on a side street off Broadway. With a brick-and-marble facade, waist-high pots of flowers on the sidewalk and a uniformed doorman, it was elegant in an old-fashioned way. A venerable Italian restaurant sat next door, a Middle Eastern café had moved in across the street, and an import business and two small bars took up the rest of the block.

  “My brother’s wedding reception is going to be here this fall,” she told Jake as they walked through the large but hushed lobby.

  “You settle with the bride?” he asked, looking as if he really cared.

  “It was a misunderstanding,” she said. “Caused by my mother.”

  “She hard on you?”

  Carlie shrugged. “She is who she is. Thinks if I could just do things her way, my social life would blossom in ways I’m not really interested in. It's hard to convince her of that. Let’s just say I’m learning to ignore her.”

  Jake stopped in the open doors of the ballroom, through which they could see a crowd of people in evening wear, the men in tuxes, the women in long gowns, laughing and chatting, drinks in their hands.

  “That’s good. ’Cause I gotta tell you, I’m with the most beautiful woman here tonight
, hands down. And there’s no way in hell she needs to change to be more like anyone else.”

  Watching with satisfaction as she blushed, he walked her into the ballroom.

  The evening was definitely the most fun Carlie had ever had at an EbiTeck event. Her buzz of heady pleasure revved into gear when she and Jake walked in. Heads turned, conversations paused and more people turned to see what their partners were looking at. Carlie watched as her male colleagues’ eyebrows went up in surprise and her female coworkers’ eyes widened, their mouths opening in awe and appreciation. It was not limited to them, either. There were a number of people she didn’t know who also stared.

  “Sorry,” she murmured to Jake. “After I mostly attended stag for the last two years, you’re my third date in a row for a company function. Fresh meat for the EbiTeck gossip mill.”

  “That it? Thought it was your dress.”

  She smiled, because his gaze was full of appreciation. The magnificence that was Jake was the other factor, but she suspected he wouldn’t appreciate her pointing that out.

  “There’s my boss,” she said. “Let’s go say hello, and then we can get a drink.”

  This social nicety taken care of, Jake procured them drinks—a glass of white wine for Carlie and a bourbon on the rocks for him. Then she had the fun of introducing him to her EbiTeck friends, all of whom were lurking, attempting to look casual while quivering with eagerness.

  Not to her surprise, Jake didn’t talk a lot. But she noted that he managed to ask questions that let others talk happily while he listened, nodded and interjected occasionally. He also didn’t stray from Carlie’s side as many of the men did, off in groups at one end of the bar to bond over team sports, autos and their golf games. Instead he made it clear he wanted to be with her. This did a lot to soothe the jagged edges of hurt still lingering in her heart.

  They sat with Gigi and her long-time partner, a tall, athletic woman with short blonde hair and smile lines, Yvonne and her husband, and two other couples.