by Lyz Kelley
He hated the idea, and that oversimplified, complicated term. “That sounds delusional. Wasn’t there a movie about strings and attachments?”
“Yes, but neither of those two characters were us, and I can guarantee Jamie Rellis does not have the McKenzie Carver fortitude.”
His gut twisted. “No. I’m positive the unique mold that created McKenzie Carver is cast in gold, never to be used again.” Relationships. Impossible situations. Long ago, he realized short men with red beards wearing green suits who ran around granting wishes didn’t exist.
“Mac.”
When her lips touched his, all thoughts ceased. He gripped the fabric of her pajama bottoms and pulled her closer. He took his time absorbing, feeling, tasting before groaning and pushing her back.
“Get dressed,” he pointed at her closet, “We’re supposed to go to a football game.”
“I am dressed. And being with the family again today is not on the top of my list.”
“We still need to go out.” He moved two steps back and held a hand out in front of him. “I can’t control myself where you’re concerned. Before anything else, we need to stop at a pharmacy or convenience store. I need to get a box of condoms. And wipe that sexy look off your face.”
His smug grin made her smile. “May I finish my coffee first?” She headed toward one of the high-back stools lining the kitchen island. “And if it’s not too personal, I was hoping you would tell me about your mom.”
Placing his mug on the counter, he joined her. “She left when I was still learning to walk. I don’t know why, exactly. She told my sisters she’d had enough, packed her bags, and never looked back. According to my dad, she grew tired of him being on the road all the time. It wasn’t enough he put food on the table and a roof over our heads. Her leaving forced Dad to take a job closer to home. The pay wasn’t as good, so he had to work additional odd jobs to pay the bills. We don’t talk about her much.” He rubbed the top of his knuckles to wipe off a smudge that wasn’t there. “My sisters took turns filling the roles of cook, maid, and babysitter. To my sisters, I became the living doll.”
“I always wanted a younger sister. You said Angela raised you.”
“Yeah. She pushes the motherly thing too far sometimes. What about you? Have you always wanted to be a mother?”
“Why do our conversations always come back to children and adoption?”
“The word adoption came out of your mouth, not mine.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess I’m a bit defensive after our conversation about in vitro.”
“Can I ask why IVF?”
Her eyelids twitched, eyes darting, while her mind worked. He waited for a few minutes before tightening his fingers around hers for encouragement.
“Let’s say it was a personal choice.” She released a slow breath. “At the time, I didn’t think adoption was possible. And my negative reaction to men seemed unalterable. In vitro seemed the only option. After we talked, you made some good points, so I thought I’d give adoption another try.”
“Another try? That’s right. You’ve applied before.”
“Yes. And it didn’t work out. That’s why I’m so thankful for Ellie.”
Her raw honesty came straight from her soul. The door to healing opened wider.
“I miss seeing Ellie and the rest of the kids. I hope this investigation ends soon.” He tried swallowing the cotton ball that blocked his throat, but couldn’t.
She squeezed his hand, and that stubborn chin lifted. What was she up to?
“As I was falling asleep last night, I realized I don’t know the little things about you.”
The efforts to distract him from thinking about the hospital were appreciated. He took a sip from his cup before asking, “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. What’s your favorite meal or video game or artist? Or what you like to do for fun? Or your most embarrassing kid moment. Or the top item on your bucket list. Pick something.”
“Wow. That’s quite a list.”
“You’re hedging again. Why don’t you like to talk about yourself?”
“Tacos, Legend of Zelda, Sam Smith, work, throwing up on Father Murphy, and Cambodia.”
“What was that?”
“You wanted answers and I provided them.”
“And here I thought you weren’t listening.”
He turned her hand over and methodically massaged her palm with his thumb. “I always listen, even when you think I don’t hear you.”
“You could make extra money doing this.” Her relaxed voice matched the ease he sensed in her muscles.
A lava-hot sensation flowed through him, heating each and every cell. “You should see what I can do with a shoulder knot.”
“Unless you want to stay in bed all day, I suggest a change of subject.”
“That was a quick interview. Did I get all the answers correct?”
“There was no right or wrong. I was just looking for truth.” She shifted in her seat. “So…what do you think about living in the city?”
Nice change of subject. He scanned the skyline outside her window. “It’s crowded. Busy. Fast. However, I don’t miss the traffic on the 405. It was brutal getting into work. Half the time I slept at the hospital.”
“My brothers hate the traffic here. Weston ended up taking the helicopter across town one day because traffic was so bad.”
“He has a helicopter?”
“We have a helicopter the company owns. Plus a couple of planes, a yacht, and a few other toys.”
“I assume these toys are full-size.”
“Cars that go fast mainly. But all those things don’t matter. They’re more like tools. Ways to get out of the public eye, and great tax write-offs. Family is most important to us.”
The crack between their worlds widened. West Coast, East Coast. Meager upbringing, privileged upbringing. “Money can sure help when the next meal is not a sure thing.”
She turned to study his profile. “Sometimes I wish I could change my name. Be someone different. Be invisible.”
“Why? You’ve got a great family and career, and live well.”
“It might seem that way. Having money comes with responsibilities and expectations. My parents planned my life before I was born. The clothes, the lessons, the schools…all carefully selected to mold me to fit my future.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Sometimes I wish I were more like you. You decided what you wanted to do, and then went out and did it. You did it. There wasn’t a family name to open the doors, just your boots kicking them in.”
A snort of a laugh came out. “Yeah. And I broke my foot on some of those locked-tight doors.” He bumped his knee against hers. “Here’s a question. If your life could be repainted, what would it look like?”
“Bright and colorful. After graduating, I would have traveled, maybe have gone to Rome or Amsterdam to learn from some of the master painters. Found a little apartment and a job, maybe planted a garden. Spent all my extra time in the museums perfecting my craft.” She glanced at him. “That must sound silly.”
“Dreams are never silly.”
She licked her lips and they glistened in the kitchen light, too irresistible to pass up. He leaned in for a quick taste, but the nibble turned into a full meal deal. He groaned. “You’d better go take that shower.”
A wicked grin beckoned him. “Want to come?”
Taking a step out of reach, he pointed toward the bedroom. “Go.”
With a giggle, she disappeared into the bathroom. Her little fanny wiggled and swayed until his knees gave way and he had to lean on the counter for support.
She was T-R-O-U-B-L-E.
Just the way he liked her.
Chapter 17
The water caressed McKenzie’s skin similar to the way Garrett’s hand had flowed over her. Never had such intense, yet layered sensations sizzled through her body.
All those sexual encounters Abby confided about over lemon drop martinis only sharpened
her curiosity. She analyzed her addiction to the newness of his touch, the adrenaline rush of two bodies connecting—the need for something different, exciting. Yet being with him wasn’t about the thrill of the moment, but something more, something that was fragile, precious.
While she dried off, she considered the contrasting characteristics of her friends’ need for short-term partners. She preferred the safe, comfortable state of knowing the intimacies of a single mate’s body, watching the lines change with time, compromising to stay together, and putting the other’s needs first. Unfortunately, it couldn’t happen for her.
Once the hospital Board cleared Garrett—and they would clear him—she would have to let him go. She’d made a promise. If their time was limited to a day, or a week, she would take it. Just knowing the joy of being with someone again, and connecting on that primal, natural level, suited her. She wanted this. She wanted Garrett in her bed for as long as time allowed. She couldn’t imagine feeling this much freedom with anyone else. Even with all his misgivings, the language of his body promised he wanted her, too. She pulled the towel snug, and opened the door to let the steam escape the bathroom.
He was sitting on the bed, his head propped in his hands.
“What are you thinking?” She leaned on the doorjamb, arms folded to help keep her towel up.
“Baby crib,” he said without taking a breath.
She secured the bath towel around her chest and walked to the bed’s edge. “Pardon me?”
“Baby crib. You said you needed to get one. I thought we might go shopping.”
“You mean like at Macy’s?”
“That or the baby store over on Sixth.”
Her fingers tapped an agitated rhythm on her knees. “Why don’t we order lunch and find the perfect crib on the Internet? I can order one online.”
In the middle of donning a sock, he paused. “When’s the last time you went shopping in New York?”
Her gut clenched, and she hoped her face didn’t show the distress. Weeks? Months, maybe? “I don’t remember. I don’t like crowds.”
“You said you wished you could walk the streets. Feel normal. There’s no better day to start than today. Today you can pick out furniture for your baby. What a way to start a new life.”
For the first time in months, the thousands of excuses for not leaving the safety of her apartment evaporated. Maybe it was because she felt safe. Maybe it was because she knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
The melody to the “Land of the Free” popped into her mind.
“Tell you what.” His voice gentled with encouragement. “Why don’t we start with some breakfast at Burt’s and see where the day takes us. If you’re game, maybe after shopping for baby stuff, we can go to a few art galleries, or a walk in the park, or see a movie.”
“What if I freak out?”
“What if a bus hits us? What if a plane crashes into a building? Stop the what-ifs. Life doesn’t last forever, you know.”
“You have a point.” She leaned forward and placed her lips on his warm skin. “What will we do for clothes? You can’t go walking around in a tux.”
“I can wear your brother’s gear. When we get to the stores I’ll buy something. I’ve been meaning to find time to shop. Be careful what you wish for, right?”
A little niggle of doubt passed through her thoughts and her chest tightened. He must have picked up the vibe because he placed his hand under her chin and lifted her eyes to his.
“I thought you trusted me.”
“I do.”
He held her gaze for several seconds before stepping back. “Then help me find my shirt studs so we can return the penguin suit to the rental shop and get out of here.”
“I put them on the coffee table next to your jacket.”
“I’ll change into sweats, and—.”
The phone rang, and she reached for the handset. Her towel slipped before she caught the end of the fabric and she scrambled to cover herself. His dark, focused eyes sent wild shivers racing up her spine. If he was thinking what she hoped he was thinking, they might never make it out of the apartment, which wasn’t a bad idea.
“Weston. Hi.”
Garrett stood, his grin widening. His tux pants slid to the floor. Her gaze lingered on the pile of fabric, and then climbed up his body, inch by inch, until their eyes met. Her breath stalled. Magnificent described Garrett Branston.
“I’m sorry, Weston. What did you say?”
The heat escalated and sweat beaded on her upper lip. He turned toward the bathroom. She sketched the round muscles of his behind on her mind’s memory pad before he disappeared. She brushed her chin to make sure she wasn’t drooling, and then turned to stare out the window to get her bearings.
“Lunch? No. I can’t make it. Sorry to ask, but I need a favor. Can I extend the deadline for the marketing presentation? Something’s come up.”
She fisted the terry cloth, twisting the fabric in her hand. “No, I’m fine.”
He walked out of the bathroom with her brother’s sports pants hugging every bulge. Her eyes roller-coastered over his ribcage and abdomen, and then loop-de-looped back up to the brown curls covering his chest.
“That will be perfect. Gotta go. Love you.” She disconnected the call and set the handset on the dresser.
“That wasn’t fair.” She glared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
His fake confusion pushed her retribution button. She dropped her towel and watched his eyes flare.
“Two can play that game.” She hoped she sounded as sexy as she felt.
His playful grin turned serious. He took a step forward then stopped. “You’re killing me. But that…” he pointed a finger at her midsection, “while tempting, it will not stop us from going out. So I’m going into the living room and pace back and forth at least fifty times so you can get dressed in peace.” He grabbed a folded gray T-shirt and his wallet.
When he gave her a pained, lustful glare before shutting the bedroom door, she giggled.
Sexy, bold, irreverent, she couldn’t decide which feeling suited her best. Whatever happened over the next few days, she vowed to let go of her fears. She hoped to make the memories of a lifetime because instinct told her from this morning forward, every male would forever be compared to Garrett and would never come close.
She’d been given only one ticket to heaven, and she was definitely ready to take the ride.
The excitement provided a distraction. She put on a pair of socks, jeans, striped tunic, and her favorite pair of patent leather clogs. Gathering her damp hair into a bunch, she twisted it into a bun, applied a light layer of makeup, grabbed her sunglasses off her dresser, and opened her door.
He turned. His lips parted. “Wow.”
The way he looked at her made her toenails tingle.
“You should wear jeans more often.”
Wondering if the pants were too tight, too revealing, she considered changing. She didn’t want to attract attention.
Reaching for her hand, he guided her toward the front door with a tux bag under his arm. “Grab your credit cards so we can get out of here.”
She reached for her purse, while he pulled and she giggled. He managed the door, and then the elevator. On the way down to the lobby, he peppered her neck with tiny kisses until the elevator bell announced the lobby. She pushed him away, skipping ahead of him toward the door.
“Miss Carver. Are you going out? I didn’t see a car ordered for you today.” Stu the Security Guard called, eyes darting between her and Garrett.
“We’re going to walk,” she announced boldly, while watching Stu’s face turn an interesting shade of pale pink. She liked the surprised, protective expression. It suited him. “It’s a glorious day for one, don’t you think?”
When she reached the curb, she stopped to listen, to feel, the energy of the city. The sun caressed her face. The wind tossed her hair. She took a deep breath. I’m ready.
“Where
do you want to go first?” Garrett slid his hand into hers.
“I want to try something new. New York is full of great restaurants. I’m hungry for a giant stack of French toast.”
“French toast it is.” He headed south without a breath of hesitation.
They passed a young girl walking six dogs, a hot dog vendor prepping his meals for the day, a musician playing for coins. She noticed the little things. The little boy chewing more gum than his mouth could hold, a drag queen who resembled Cher, a Jewish woman, bent by age, pushing her groceries home. She regretted all the things she’d missed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
His worried tone wasn’t required. “I’m terrific. I only wish I’d done this sooner.”
“The only thing that matters is what you do next. Don’t look back. Never back.”
“Easy for you to say.”
His silence made her pause, search for understanding. From his profile, she surmised he wasn’t really there beside her. He had disappeared into deep thought.
She released his hand and stroked up his arm. “Are you thinking about home? Do you miss LA?”
“LA? No. I miss family. My nephew has a baseball game today. And my sister’s birthday is next weekend. I’d like to find something to send her while we’re out. Although a gift arriving on time might give her a heart attack. I’m not good at remembering birthdays. Another reason I’m terrible at relationships.”
“You’re not the first male, or female, to forget an anniversary or special occasion. Thank goodness for electronic calendars. I set all my alarms a week in advance so I don’t forget. An alarm the day-of is too late.”
“Really? Miss Organized,” he teased.
“I’m not perfect.”
“No one is. But you’re pretty darn close.” He wrapped an arm around her and leaned in for a smooch. His soft lips clung to hers, and glittery tingles went off like fireworks throughout her body.
“Hmmm. I like your kisses.” She rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip to smooth in the lip gloss. “That reminds me. I have a question.”
His eyes narrowed in response to her cautious statement. “And what question is that?”
