by Nora Roberts
You made me better than I was. I’ve been thinking about you. Thinking about you a lot.”
“What about—” He had to dig for the name. “James?”
She rolled those sultry eyes. “My mistake. My punishment for hurting you. It didn’t take me long to realize he was just a reckless adventure. He was a boy compared to you, Carter. Please say you forgive me.”
“It’s old business, Corrine.”
“I want to make it up to you, if you’ll let me. Give me a chance to show you.” She walked back to him, trailed her fingers over his cheek. “You remember how it was with us, how good it was. We could have that again. Carter.” She wound around him. “You could have me again. You just have to take me.”
“I think we should—”
“Let’s be sensible later.” She pressed in as he tried to ease her back. “I want you. I want you so much. I can’t think about anything else.”
“Wait. Stop. This isn’t going to—”
“All right. You’re the boss.” With that sparkling smile in place, she tossed her hair. “We’ll talk first, all you want. Why don’t you pour me a glass of wine and we’ll . . . Is something burning?”
“I don’t—Oh, hell.”
He raced to the kitchen, and Corrine’s smile went sharp. This would take more time and effort, she realized. But she didn’t mind the challenge. Actually, she thought, the fact that Carter hadn’t come to heel as she’d expected only made him more exciting. And it would make seducing him all the more satisfying.
After all, the one place he hadn’t bored her was in bed.
She softened her smile as she heard him coming back.
“Sorry, I was cooking something. Corrine, I appreciate the apology and the . . . offer, but—Sorry,” he repeated at the knock on the front door.
“It’s all right. I’ll wait.”
With a shake of his head, Carter walked out to open the door. His brain, already on overload, hit the red zone when he saw Mac.
“Hi. Peace offering.” She held out a bottle of wine. “I handled things badly, and I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to do better. If you’re up for that, I thought maybe you could come over for dinner tonight. Maybe bring a bottle of wine. Hey, that’s a nice label you’ve got there.”
“You—I—Mackensie.”
“Who is it, Carter?”
Not good, was all Carter could think. This could not be good, as Corrine strolled out. He saw shock rush over Mac’s face.
“This isn’t—”
“Oh, wine, how nice.” Corrine took the bottle from Carter’s numb hand. “Carter was just about to pour me a glass.”
“Actually, I . . . Mackensie Elliot, this is Corrine Melton.”
“Yes, I know. Well, enjoy the wine.”
“No. Don’t.” He all but leaped out the door to grab her arm. “Wait. Just wait. Come inside.”
She shook his hand off. “Are you joking? Grab me again,” she warned, “you’ll have more than a bruise on your jaw.”
She stalked off to a car he realized wasn’t hers as Corrine called out from the doorway.
“Carter! Sweetie, come inside before you catch cold!”
Routine, he thought? Had he actually been worried about falling into the rut of routine?
MAC STORMED INTO THE HOUSE. “WHERE THE HELL IS everybody?” she shouted.
“We’re back in the kitchen! We’ve been trying your cell,” Emma called out. “Get back here.”
“You would not believe the day I had. First I run into Carter’s sexy ex in the shoe department at Nordstrom, which nearly spoiled my petty pleasure in having my mother’s car towed. Why didn’t anyone bother to tell me she was gorgeous?” Mac complained and tossed her coat on a stool.
“And as if that wasn’t bad enough with all sexy and sultry in these fabulous red peep-toes and her Catwoman with a whip voice, I spent sixty bucks on a bottle of wine as a peace offering to Carter, and another eighty at the market buying all this
crap to fix a makeup dinner for him and what do I find when I go by his place? What do I find? I’ll tell you what I find.
Her. Her in a black cashmere sweater cut down to here, with just enough pink lace under it to say,
dive in, honey. And he stands there,
introducing us, all flustered and befuddled.
“Now she’s drinking my goddamn wine.”
Parker held up both hands. “Wait a minute. Carter was with Corrine—his ex?”
“Didn’t I just say that? Isn’t that what I said? And she’s ‘Oh, sweetie, come in before you catch cold.’ Except in sexy voice. And he was cooking something. I could smell it. It smelled like burnt toast, but still. We have one little disagreement and he’s making her burnt toast and pouring her my wine?”
“I can’t see Carter jumping back there.” Emma shook her head. “No possible way.”
“She was there, wasn’t she, with her pink lace cleavage?”
“If so, you should’ve kicked his ass, then hers, then taken your wine.” Laurel moved over to give Mac a back rub. “But I tend to lean with Emma. Let us travel back to the shoe department at Nordstrom. First, did you buy any?”
“Shoe department, Nordstrom. What do you think?”
“You can show us later. How did you know it was Carter’s ex? Or did she know you?”
“She had that what’s-her-name with her. Cousin of the groom from Saturday’s event. She recognized me. And they’re both giving me the once-over, which I resent. I seriously resent, and the what’s-her-name is giggling, and ‘You two should compare notes.’ Asinine bitch.”
“And doesn’t it strike you as strange and coincidental,” Parker said, “that the evening of the same day you just happen to find her at Carter’s? Does no one else smell plot?”
Laurel and Emma raised their hands.
“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Disgusted, Mac lowered to a stool. “She
played me. I was too stunned and mad and, okay, jealous, to see it. But, what, she didn’t know I was going over there. So—”
“I think that was just icing. I know her a little, remember,” Emma reminded Mac. “She’s always had the ‘I want what you want, but more I want yours.’ She probably went over just to see if she could take him away from you, and then—”
“I give her a bottle of wine.” Mac dropped her head in her hands. “I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just not mean and calculating, like she is. And neither is Carter,” Parker said. “He wasn’t with her, Mac. She was just there.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. And I walked away, left her the field. But he introduced us.”
“Mishandled, I’ll grant you.” Parker nodded. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. It’s too much. Emotionally exhausting. I guess I’ll eat ice cream and sulk.”
“You could eat caviar and celebrate.”
Mac frowned at Parker. “Celebrate what? The idiocy that is relationships?”
“No, the triumph of Vows signing a contract for the Seaman wedding. We got the job.”
“Yay. No, sorry, give me just a minute to change gears.” She scrubbed her hands over her face, tried to shove down the sick anger and find the triumph. “We actually got it?”
“We got it, and we’ve got Cristal and beluga to prove it. We’ve been waiting for you so we could pop this cork.”
“What a strange day.” Mac pressed her fingers to her eyes. “What a hell of a strange day. And you know what? This is a really good way to end it. Open that big boy, Parker.”
“Once it pops, this is officially a no-sulking zone.”
“Already done.” She pushed to her feet. “I feel a happy dance coming on. Pop it!”
At the celebrational sound Mac let out a cheer.
“To us.” Parker lifted her glass. “Best friends ever, and damn smart women.”
They clinked, they drank. And Mac thought she could get through anything, anything that came, as long as she had
them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BOB STARED AT CARTER ACROSS THE TABLE IN COFFEE Talk, his eyes glazed, his jaw slack. “Holy shit.”
“She didn’t answer the phone. After I finally got Corrine out of the house, I called. Her house—both lines—her cell. She wouldn’t answer. I thought about just going over, but if she didn’t answer the phone . . . She thought I’d—She shouldn’t have thought that, but given the situation at the time, I can’t blame her. Not really.” He brooded into his green tea. “I need to explain. Obviously I need to explain. But I’m out of my depth here. I don’t know where to start.”
“You have two women after you. Two. Man, Carter, you’re a dog. You’re the big dog.”
“For God’s sake, Bob, you’re completely missing the point.”
“Not me, pal.” The slack jaw had morphed into a grin of pure admiration. “The point is two hot chicks got it for you. Plus, I heard you had a thing going with Parker Brown. A trio of hot.”
“I—
What? Who . . . No. Where did that come from?”
“You were cozy right here at the Talk the other night. At the Talk, people talk.”
“God, when did this turn into a soap opera? We had coffee, and talked about Mackensie. We’re friends. Just. Only. Hardly even that really.”
“That’s good.” Bob issued his wise nod. “Because I was going to tell you that, man, you
never date girlfriends. It’s not only not cool, but it’s lethal. They’ll rip you up, then go shopping together.”
“That’s good to know, Bob.” Carter watched the sarcasm float harmlessly over Bob’s head. “But I’m not dating Parker. And since when can’t a man and a woman have coffee—tea—together in a public place without . . . Never mind.” As he felt a headache coming on, Carter let it go. “It just doesn’t matter.”
“Right. Back on topic. Two hot chicks squaring off over the Cartman. I bet if the redhead had come in, you’d have had a chick fight. Chicks fighting over you, Carter.” Bob’s eyes went bright with fantasy. “You’re the big, bad dog.”
“I don’t want to be the dog.” There was a reason he’d kept the incident to himself through the workday. But what madness had overtaken him to make him believe he could get reasonable advice out of Bob anywhere, anytime? “Try to stay with me on this, Bob.”
“I’m trying, but I keep getting flashes of the girl fight. You know, with the rolling around on the floor and ripping each other’s clothes.” Bob lifted his skinny cinnamon latte. “It’s pretty vivid.”
“There was no fight.”
“There could have been. Okay, so you don’t want to try juggling the two of them. Me, I think you’ve got the skills for it, but I’m sensing you want me to help you figure out which one to pick.”
“No. No. No.” Carter dropped his head in his hands. “They’re not ties, Bob. This is not a comparison study. I’m in love with Mackensie.”
“Seriously? Well, hey, you never said you had the Big L for her. I thought you just had a thing.” Rubbing his chin, Bob sat back. “This is a different equation. How pissed off was she?”
“Take a guess, then double it.”
Bob nodded wisely. “Beyond the taking her flowers and apologizing. You’ve got to get your foot in the door first, that’s the thing. Something like this, when you’re the innocent party . . . You are an innocent party, right?”
“Bob.”
“Okay. You’re going to have to let her kick your ass first, that’s my advice.” Considering, Bob sipped his latte. “Then you’ve got to tell her how you’re innocent. Then you’ve got to beg. You’re going to want to top it off with something that sparkles in a case like this.”
“Jewelry? A bribe?”
“You don’t look at it like a bribe. It’s an
apology. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t do anything, Carter. It never does. You want this to go away, get things back, get her back and have sex with her again in this decade, you spring for something shiny. It’s coming up on Valentine’s Day anyway.”
“That’s shallow and manipulative.”
“Damn right.”
Carter laughed. “I’ll keep the something shiny as a backup plan. But I think you’re right about the rest. Especially letting her kick my ass first. It looked bad. It looked very bad.”
“Did you take the brunette for a tumble?”
“No. God.”
“Then you’re a righteous man. Remember that. You’re a righteous man, Carter. But you’re also the big, bad dog. I’m proud to know you.”
IN HER STUDIO, MAC FINISHED A SET OF PROOFS. SHE BOXED them for the client, along with a price sheet, her business card, and a list of options.
She glanced at the phone and congratulated herself for having the spine
not to return Carter’s calls. Maybe Corrine had been playing games. Probably she’d been playing games. But he’d still been on the field.
It would take more than a couple of apologetic phone calls to make up for that. Besides, if he hadn’t done anything, what was he apologizing for?
Didn’t matter, she reminded herself.
She was going to reward herself for a productive day with a bubble bath, a glass of wine, and an evening of popcorn and TV. An action movie, she decided. Where lots of things blew up, and there was absolutely not the slightest whiff of romance.
She set her completed work in a Vows shopping bag for delivery, then whirled around as she heard her door open.
Linda, in full, spitting rage, stormed in. “How dare you? How dare you have my car towed to some second-rate garage? Do you know they expected me to pay two hundred dollars to release it? You’d better write me a check right this minute.”
Okay, Mac thought, there’s the bell for this round. And for once, I’m ready. “Not on your life. Give me my keys.”
“I’ll give you your keys when you give me my two hundred dollars.”
Mac stepped forward, grabbed her mother’s purse, and emptied the contents on the floor. Linda’s utter shock gave Mac time to crouch down, shove through the debris, and pocket her keys.
“How—”
“Dare I?” Mac said coolly. “I dare because you borrowed my car on Sunday, because you didn’t return it, or my calls, for five days. I dare because I’m finished being used and abused. Believe me when I say I’m finished. I’m done. This stops now.”
“It
snowed. You could hardly expect me to risk driving home from New York in a snowstorm. I could have had an accident. I could have—”
“Called,” Mac interrupted. “But leaving that aside, there was no storm; there was a dusting. Less than a quarter of an inch. That was Sunday.”
“Ari wouldn’t hear of me driving home. He invited me to stay over, so I did.” She shrugged it off. “We spent a few days together. We went shopping, to the theater. Why shouldn’t I have a life?”
“You’re welcome to one. Have it somewhere else.”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby, Mackensie. I left you my car.”
“You left me a car I couldn’t use, even if you’d bothered to also include the goddamn keys.”
“An oversight. You pushed me out the door so fast that day, it’s no wonder I didn’t remember. Don’t swear at me.” She burst into tears, lovely drops spilling copiously out of shattered blue eyes. “How can you treat me this way? How can you begrudge me a chance for happiness?”
It won’t work, Mac told herself even as her stomach cramped. Not this time. “You know I used to ask myself those questions, reversing the you and me. I’ve never been able to find the answer.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m in
love. You don’t know what it’s like to feel this way about someone. How it takes over everything else so it’s only the two of you. It was just a car, Mackensie.”
“It was just
my car.”
“Look what you did to mine!” Even with tears still gleaming on her cheeks, the outrage came through. “You had it
towed to that—that grease pit. And that horrible man is holding it hostage.”
“So pay the ransom,” Mac suggested.
“I don’t know how you can be this mean to me. It’s because you never let yourself feel. You take pictures of feelings, you don’t have them. Now you’re punishing me because I do.”
“Okay.” Mac crouched again, scooped, shoved, pushed the scattered contents on the floor back into her mother’s bag. “I have no feelings. I’m a horrible daughter. And in that vein, I want you to leave. I want you to go.”
“I need the money for my car.”
“You’re not getting it from me.”
“But . . . you have to—”
“No.” She shoved the bag into Linda’s hand. “That’s the thing, Mom. I don’t have to. And I’m not going to. Your problem, you fix it.”
Linda’s lip trembled, her chin quivered. Not manipulation, Mac thought, not entirely. She felt what she felt, after all. And believed herself the victim.
“How am I going to get home?”
Mac picked up the phone. “I’ll call you a cab.”
“You’re not my daughter.”
“You know, the sad thing for both of us is I am.”
“I’ll wait outside. In the cold. I’m not going to stand in the same room with you for another minute.”
“They’ll pick you up in front of the main house.” Mac turned away, shut her eyes as she heard the door slam. “Yes, I need a cab at the Brown Estate. As quickly as possible.”
With her stomach in ugly knots, Mac walked over and locked her door. She’d need to add aspirin to that post-workday relaxation plan, she thought. A whole bottle ought to just about do it. Maybe she’d take the aspirin and lie down in a dark room, try to sleep off the feelings she apparently didn’t have.
She took the aspirin first, washed it down with a full glass of icy water to try to soothe the rawness in her throat. Then she simply sat down on the kitchen floor.
That was far enough.
She’d sit there until her knees stopped shaking, until her head stopped throbbing. Until the urge to burst into wild tears passed.
When the phone rang, she reached up, managed to grab it from the counter. She read the ID, answered Parker. “I’m all right.”
“I’m here.”
“I know. Thanks. But I’m all right. I called her a cab. It’ll be here in another couple minutes. Don’t let her in.”
“All right. I’m here,” she repeated. “Whatever you need.”
“Parker? She’s never going to change, so I have to. I didn’t know it would be so painful. I thought it would feel good, good and satisfying. Maybe with a
