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Carter Bravo's Christmas Bride Page 8
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He nodded. “’Nother beer would be good.”
So she took the empties to the kitchen, returning with two fresh ones. She set his on the coffee table in front of him and dropped to her end of the sofa, drawing her stocking feet up yoga-style and assuming either he would change the channel or they would now watch the after-game talking heads.
But Carter only turned off the TV and tossed the remote on the side table next to him. “Come here,” he said, leaning back against the sofa arm and actually crooking a finger.
She stayed right where she was. “What? You think I’m Sally all of a sudden?”
He chortled. Apparently, he found her so very amusing. “You’re always so cool, Paige. Lately, I’ve been thinking that your being cool is damn hot.” He gave her a long, low-eyed look. She felt his gaze tracking, down over her red sweater and jeans, to the Christmas tree socks she’d put on to feel festive—and then right back up again until he once more met her eyes. “There’s so much I never realized about you before, so much I want to do with you.”
Speaking of hot, maybe she ought to turn off the fire...
“And to you,” he added in that low, rough voice that made her want to do things to him, too. He lightly nudged her knee with his toe. “Come on over here so I can show you how much I like you.”
She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, truly torn. She wanted to go there. She wanted it bad. “You’re supposed to be giving me time, remember?”
He said a swearword under his breath—and then, lightning quick, he sat up, reached out and grabbed her arm. She smacked at him with her free hand.
That didn’t stop him. He just held on and hauled her back with him, pulling her on top of him, stretching out with his head on the sofa arm and her all over him like a blanket.
She glared down into those gold-flecked green eyes. “This is not fair.”
He lifted himself up, but only enough to catch her lower lip between his white teeth. She gasped at how disgustingly good it felt. He worried the tender flesh briefly and then let it go. “Where’d you ever get the idea it was going to be fair?”
Her lip tingled where he’d bitten it—not hard, oh, no. But sharply. Excitingly. Her hips were pressed to his, her breasts to his chest. It was like stretching out on a flesh-covered slab of rock—hot rock. All of him, chest, belly and lower down, all hot. And under the fly of his black jeans, things were not only hot, but getting harder, too.
Before she could remember that she needed to stop him, he eased a hand up under her hair to cradle the back of her head. And then, so gently, he guided her down until her lips settled over his.
She groaned—a groan of protest that somehow came out like a moan of pleasure instead. He smelled all showered and fresh, and he tasted of beer and the promise of great sex. And then there was all that rock-hard hotness going on.
His hands roamed her back, sliding down and cupping her bottom the way he’d done at the shop, cupping her and pulling her closer, making sure she could feel every inch of that hardness beneath the fly of his jeans.
She wanted to drag him up the stairs to her bedroom and have her way with him. Repeatedly.
But she was not going to do that. No way. She was not.
“Not, not, not,” she moaned as she made herself pull her mouth free of his. She glared down at him and tried to come up with the right words to make him see how wrong it was for him to keep taking advantage of her like this.
But then he said, “So, then. I’m thinking tomorrow I’ll take you to Denver to pick out the ring.”
“What did you just say?” She gaped down at him. Since this afternoon, she’d been doing a whole lot of gaping.
“The ring, honey. We need to get you an engagement ring.”
Honey? Oh, no way. With a cry of frustration, she scrambled off him, sliding her feet to the floor and bouncing to a standing position. Bracing her fists on her hips, she glared down at him. “May I remind you—again—that you’re supposed to be giving me time to think over whether any good at all can come from this crazy idea of yours?”
He laced his hands behind his big fat head. “And I’ve decided that you’ve got it all wrong.”
“Wrong?” She made a few sputtering sounds.
And he blithely continued. “Yeah. You’re wrong. It’s not time yet for you to think it over.”
“Not time?” She raised both hands, palms to the ceiling, and then let them flop in complete frustration to her sides. “What are you even talking about?”
“Very simple. First, we have to get through our trial engagement, see how it goes, you know? And then is when the thinking part comes, meaning that’s when we consider whether or not to actually get married.”
“But I haven’t even decided if I—”
He put up a hand. “Hold on a minute.” He winced as he sat up, and then he cast a rueful glance at the obvious bulge in the front of his jeans. “Look what you did to me, Paige.”
“What I did?”
He had the nerve to nod. “Sex is important, Paige. And we need to start having some. But you gotta agree that it wouldn’t be a good example for Dawn, if I’m in your bed and we don’t have any kind of formal commitment.”
“Formal commitment?! It’s a fake engagement you’re talking about here.”
He dared to look wounded. “It’s not fake, no way. Just because we’re testing the waters, that doesn’t make it fake.”
That did it. “I can’t do this right now. You’ve got me so turned around, I can’t think straight. You need to go.”
Shaking his head, he reached for his boots and put them on. She stepped back as he rose. Sally, by the fire, got up and followed him into the front hall, Paige trailing after.
He took his jacket from the peg and put it on, grabbed Sally’s leash, then wrapped those long, strong fingers around the doorknob.
But then, instead of pulling it open, he reached for Paige again.
This time she was ready for him. “Oh, no, you don’t.” She jumped back before he could grab her.
“Let down your guard, Paige.” Now his voice was rough and low. He coaxed, “Come on. Have a little faith. It’s going to work. Just give it a chance and you’ll see it’s the right thing for both of us.”
God, when he looked at her like that—eyes all hot and full of feeling, as though there was no other woman in the world but her...
It wasn’t a good idea, this wild plan of his. But she really, really wanted to go with it anyway. She wanted to have sex with him. She wanted to be with him, desperately, be his woman, his fiancée—even if it only lasted till Christmas.
Which was most likely just what would happen. She’d be crying by Christmas, her life a complete mess.
She tried to make him admit that. “You’re refusing to see the whole picture here. We work together, we’re best friends. This idea of yours could ruin everything. It could completely destroy what we have.”
“No way.”
“Carter. Come on, think about it. Really think about it. What if it doesn’t work out? What if...one of us falls in love and the other doesn’t?” What if one of us is already in love? “What if it ends up destroying our friendship, our partnership, everything? Then what?”
He just wouldn’t listen. “That’s not going to happen.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“Yes, I can. Nobody’s falling in love. That’s the beauty of it. We know who we are with each other. We’re going to have a great life together, Paige, a happy life. That falling-in-love crap isn’t going to happen to us.”
But it’s already happened to me.
And yes, she should simply tell him that. But she couldn’t make herself do it. She knew what would happen if she did.
He’d be out the door in an instant. How sad was that? She was in love. A
nd she wanted a chance with him. She couldn’t stop thinking that this ridiculous test-drive engagement of his was the only way for her to get her chance.
Her chance to have everything—and also, her chance to lose it all. “I mean it, Carter. You have to give me some time. You have to let me think it over.”
“How long?” he demanded. He clicked his tongue at Sally. She trotted over and he bent to clip on her leash.
“You’ve got to give me a week without pressuring me.” Sally looked up at her as she spoke—and then turned to Carter when he said, “A week’s too long. We need to move forward.”
“Not until I have time to think about it.”
“Two days.” Carter glared at her as if he wanted to strangle her—strangle her or grab her and tear all her clothes off.
She glared right back at him. “I can’t believe I’m bargaining with you about this.”
“Two days.” He growled the words. “And then we’re on.”
“Two days and then I decide.”
“You always have to have it your way.” His voice was hard. Cold.
Her heart ached. But she stood her ground. “Two days. Absolute minimum.”
“Fine. Two days. And then you decide.”
Chapter Six
The next morning when Paige went downstairs, there was no sign of Carter. No perfect pot of coffee brewing, no delicious bacon sizzling in the pan. Just Biscuit whining at the door to get out.
She walked Biscuit, made the coffee herself and fixed breakfast for her and her sister.
Dawn had questions. “How come Carter’s not here? Is this about you and him? Is he having trouble dealing with your telling him how you really feel?”
Paige debated explaining everything. But no. Her baby sister didn’t even need to hear it. And Paige certainly didn’t feel like telling it.
She evaded Dawn’s questions.
At work, Carter kept his promise. He was civil and distant. She hated it, the distance. Yes, he was only giving her what she’d asked for. She knew that. Still, she missed her best friend.
The next day, Tuesday, he was out of town trying to track down a car for another rebuild. His absence made things a little easier. She could almost pretend that everything was as it used to be. Except for the ache in her heart, which wasn’t as it used to be at all.
That night, Paige was no closer to knowing what to say to him than she’d been when she asked him to give her some time. Tomorrow, she needed to give him an answer. Unfortunately, she didn’t have one.
Thus, at two in the morning, she remained wide-awake, tossing and turning in her bed.
If she’d been asleep, she might not have heard the tap on the window. That probably would have been for the best.
But she did hear it. And instead of ignoring it, she shoved back the covers and went to investigate. Biscuit jumped down from the end of the bed and followed her over there. Slowly, she eased the blinds open.
The window overlooked the side yard. In the faint gleam of starlight and the soft spill of the streetlamp bleeding in from the curb near the front of the house, she saw that a light snow was falling. She also made out the shape of a man hunched on the slope of roof right beyond the glass.
Carter.
Of course.
His eyes gleamed through the slit in the blinds. “Let me in, Paige.” The window muffled the words. Still, she heard him.
So did Biscuit. He whined in delight at the sound of Carter’s voice and his tail got going like a metronome, slapping at the back of her calf.
Serve the man right if she just shut the blind all the way again and went back to bed.
But knowing Carter, he would only keep tapping, calling her name louder, until she gave up and let him in.
She yanked the blind up. The window opened to the side. She pressed the latch and pushed it wide. Cold air and the smell of a winter storm had her wrapping her arms around herself and shivering.
His white teeth flashed with his grin. “For a minute there, I was afraid you’d tell me to get lost.”
The screen remained between them. “I’m still debating that,” she muttered. “What are you doing on my roof?”
“Getting to you.”
“Maybe you’ve forgotten.” She ladled on the sarcasm. “I’m supposed to have till tomorrow to give you an answer.”
“It is tomorrow,” he announced way too loudly. “Get rid of the screen.”
“Shh!” She cast a glance at her bedroom door, which was shut. But still. Noise tended to carry in the middle of the night. “Keep your voice down. You’ll wake up Dawn.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound one bit contrite, but at least he’d lowered his voice again. “The screen...?”
She gave in, grabbed the little tabs at the base and eased it out of the frame, pulling it into the room and propping it against the wall, then stepped aside to make way for him. He extended a long leg over the sill, turning his thick shoulders sideways so they would fit through the opening. For a moment, she dared to hope the window was too small for him. But with a little maneuvering, he was in. “Brrr,” he said, turning to slide the window shut. “Brisk out there.” He seemed to fill up the room with his big self and the cold, wet smell of the snow that clung to his shoulders and dusted his hair. Biscuit whined again. “Hey, buddy.” Carter dropped to a crouch and started scratching his ears. “Turn on a light. It’s dark in here.”
She trudged to her tangled bed, dropped to the edge of the mattress and flipped on the lamp.
Carter rose again. She watched as he shrugged out of his heavy jacket and tossed it on a chair. “Biscuit. Lie down.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the doggy bed on the corner. The dog trotted right over there and flopped down, which totally annoyed her. She could never get that dog to go to his bed, but Carter made it happen on the first command.
“You look cute in those pajamas,” he said. “What are those, dogs?”
“Dachshunds,” she muttered glumly. “Dachshunds in Christmas sweaters and holiday beanies.”
He came to her then and sat down beside her, bringing the tempting scents of winter and manliness and a faint hint of aftershave right along with him. “Cute.” He fingered the soft flannel of her sleeve.
She pulled her arm free. “It hasn’t been two whole days and you know it.”
“I couldn’t wait.” He nudged her with his elbow. Gently. And then, low and hopefully, he asked, “So, what’s the verdict?”
She stalled, like the big fat chicken she was. “Why couldn’t you just come in the front door like a normal person?”
He frowned. “I don’t know. It seemed kind of wrong to just let myself in at two in the morning. And I didn’t want to ring the bell and wake Dawn up, get her all freaked out, wondering what’s going on...”
“Right.” She wanted to stall some more, get all up in his face for disturbing her in the middle of the night, insist that he could have waited for daylight, at least. But instead, she stared into his wonderful, beloved face and admitted the awful truth. “God, Carter. I missed you.”
Which, of course, had him smiling that knee-melting smile. “You did?”
She gave it up completely. “Yeah. A lot. I missed you a lot.” And then she hung her head and scowled down at her flannel-covered thighs.
“Hey,” he said so softly, so coaxingly. And he caught her chin with a gentle finger and made her look at him. His eyes twinkled much too brightly and he teased, “Merry Christmas to me.”
She made a snorting sound, but he didn’t let that stop him. He just eased his other arm around her shoulders and drew her close to his side. She went without protest. After all, close to him was exactly where she longed to be. She lifted her chin for him when he guided it higher so he could claim her mouth.
A kiss ensued. A fabu
lous, wet, hot, very long kiss.
Still kissing her, he eased her back across the bed. She gave in to his urging, lifting her arms and wrapping them around him, kissing him some more.
However, when he started unbuttoning her pajama top, she caught his hand. “Stop.” She opened her eyes and waited.
Eventually, he lifted himself away from her just enough to demand, “What now?”
She put on her sternest expression. “Carter. I mean it. You have to slow down...”
“Whatever you want.” He sat up.
She sat up, too. Tugging her pajama top back into place, she made a halfhearted attempt to smooth her tangled hair.
When she looked at him again, he was holding out the most beautiful diamond ring she’d ever seen. Even in the dim light from the bedside lamp, the gorgeous thing really sparkled. “What in the...?” Words failed her. That happened a lot around him lately.
“Be my fiancée, Paige.” He caught her hand and slipped it on. Perfect fit, wouldn’t you know? The enormous oval diamond winked at her from the bead-set platinum band.
“My God, Carter.” She held it toward the light and the big stone glittered madly. “This looks like the real thing.” She glanced at him accusingly.
His fine mouth flattened out. “Of course it’s the real thing.”
“It must have cost a fortune. Did you ask them what kind of return policy they had?”
“Will you for once in your life not worry about the damn money?”
“Someone has to. You never do.”
“Only the best for my fiancée.” He slid over nice and close again and went back to work unbuttoning her jammies.
Paige looked down at his big hands as he slipped the first shiny red button free of the button hole—and just like that, it all came painfully clear to her.
She knew exactly what she had to do.