Chosen by Desire (19 page)

“We haven’t been alone.” Except for Saturday. And that time he’d unwound her from Francesca’s silk. And when he was on the beach with his sword. Oh—and the first night, in the kitchen, when she’d flashed him her panties. She rushed on before her mom tricked her into admitting any of it. “The man is my boss. Kissing is sexual harassment.”

“Only if he protests.” Her mom frowned. “
He’s
not gay, is he? He didn’t look gay.”

Max wasn’t gay. At all. But if she said that, her mom would want to know how she knew for sure. So she just said, “I don’t think he’s gay, but he did wear a pink polo shirt.”

“
Oh.
”

Carrie bit her lip to keep from grinning. “I’m so happy I got to see you like this. I’ve missed you.”

“I know, honey, I’ve missed you, too.” She reached out to the screen. “I’m so proud of you and the way you’re going after what you want. Just don’t forget to have fun along the way, or else it’s not worth it.”

“I won’t, Mom.”

“Also, don’t forget to use a condom when you get it on with Max.”

She rolled her eyes. The woman never gave up.

“I love you, honey.” Her mom waved, and then the screen went blank.

Carrie sat back in the chair and stared at the blank screen. She had fun. She did.

Fine—she had less fun lately. But life was like that. Sometimes it was great, and sometimes it wasn’t. She’d been focused on her career, and it wasn’t like she’d met anyone worth the trouble of dating.

She thought about Max and the way his muscles rippled under her hands.

Maybe she could make an exception. She let her head fall back and imagined what it’d be like to date him. She’d shower him with affection, and he’d grunt at her.

Okay, she was being unfair. He
had
done this really great thing for her after she told him how much she missed her mom.

What did it mean? All his motives were unclear. Was he after the documents, or did he really want her?

The first option chilled her. The second thrilled her more than she wanted to admit.

W
orking the rest of the day was impossible. Carrie couldn’t concentrate with Max’s sweet but perplexing gesture hanging out there like a white elephant. When she started drawing hearts all over her notes, she knew it was time for a break.

Recognizing she needed space to think, she decided to take the Maserati Francesca said she could use for a drive. Getting the keys from Max’s butler, Don, she climbed behind the wheel and inspected the controls.

“No big deal,” she reassured herself. Even though she hadn’t driven a car since she left Iowa. And even though this car cost more than she made in a year.

But the Maserati was the least expensive of the bunch. She’d checked. Don had blinked at her in confusion when she asked if there was a Civic or something she could take out instead.

“I’ll be careful.” She turned it on, listened to the engine roar to life, and put it in reverse to back out of the garage.

She wound through the twisty road that led from Max’s house, driving ten miles below the speed limit. Ignoring the occasional car that zipped around her on the two-lane road, she managed to get herself down the hill.

The pier incident fresh in her mind, she checked the rearview mirror constantly as she toured down Highway 1. It didn’t seem like anyone was tailing her, but just in case, she parked next to a busy fish-and-chips place close to the Santa Monica Pier. The more people, the safer she’d be.

Looking around as she walked on the warm sand, Carrie wondered how safe she really was. Even with her vigilance, she still had that queasy feeling of being watched. She looked around. Lots of people riding bikes and rollerblading. No one stood out.

“You’re being paranoid,” she told herself. It was probably only someone wondering what such a pale, bookish-looking woman was doing among the chic, sexy Santa Monica crowd. Besides, as long as she had the scroll and journal, no one would seriously hurt her.

In theory.

The more pressing issue at the moment was Max. Carrie strolled for a while until she found a quiet bench to sit on. She watched the waves, which looked deceptively gentle. Underneath she knew the tide was fierce.

Like Max? She wrinkled her nose. He just didn’t seem like the sneaky sort—stepping in and taking what he wanted was much more his style. He would have been more upfront if that was what he was after.

Well, she’d know soon enough. She’d left all the documents in plain sight on her bed, along with a note informing him she was going out for a bit.

But if he really did want her… Well, that was trickier.

She didn’t want to end up like her mom.

She winced. Not that her mom wasn’t great. Her mom was fantastic—the best mom ever. She was so lucky to have her.

But her mom gave up everything—being top of her class at Johns Hopkins and a brilliant medical career—for a man. She met Steve Woods, got married, and moved to Iowa.

Carrie kicked at the sand. Her mom gave all that up for a husband who, in the end, didn’t stick around. And then Irene had her, which meant returning to school was impossible.

Now her mom was an acupuncturist. A great acupuncturist, but that seemed like such a poor compromise.

Max was the kind of guy who’d seriously interfere with your life. Look at her—Carrie was already having trouble keeping her nose to the grindstone, and they hadn’t done anything more than kiss.

When she’d left Iowa, she’d sworn she’d be someone. She didn’t want to fade into anonymity. Her work was who she was, and she didn’t want to lose that.

She needed a voice of reason. Someone who was more cautious than her mom. Someone like Gabe. She shifted and pulled out her phone.

Gabe answered on the second ring, sounds of the bar prominent in the background. “Where the hell have you been, stranger? I’ve been worried about you.”

“If you’ve had time to worry about me, Rhys isn’t doing his job right.”

Gabe’s sigh gusted over the line. “He had to go out of town on business. But forget Rhys. Tell me what’s going on with you. How’s Santa Monica?”

Biting her lip, she tried to pin the right word. She finally settled on, “Confusing.”

“Work is confusing?”

“No, my boss is confusing.”

“The Chinese guy? Are you having a hard time understanding him? I thought your Chinese was pretty good.”

“My Chinese is really good, but my boss isn’t Chinese.”

Gabe paused. “Wasn’t his name Boo Hoo or something?”

“Bái H
,” she corrected. She wondered how Max would take it if Gabe called him Boo Hoo to his face. “That’s his name, but he’s not actually Chinese.”

“What is he, then?”

“Hot,” she said without thought.

Gabe laughed.

“It’s not a laughing matter. He’s hot, and I haven’t, you know,
dated
anyone in forever.”

“Are you interested in
dating
him?”

She thought about the way his hands molded to her in the pool and sighed. “Would dating involve wild monkey sex, do you think?”

Gabe laughed again. “I think it might in this case.”

“Crap. I’m screwed, aren’t I?”

“Not yet, unless you’re omitting pertinent facts.”

“Well…” She bit her lip.

“No freaking way. Hold on.” There was some rustling, some mumbled words, and then silence in the background. “Okay, I’m in the office where it’s private. Tell me.”

“You left the bar unmanned? Or is Vivian working with you?”

“Vivian,” she said with distaste.

Carrie laughed.

“Sure, laugh it up,” Gabe said with exaggerated bitterness. “You’ve abandoned me to deal with the witch on my own, and she’s been especially insufferable since you’ve been gone.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t put her in her place.”

“I’m turning over a new leaf.”

“I recognize that tone of voice. Just promise you won’t do something where she can’t work. She’s covering a lot of my shifts while I’m gone.”

“Forget Vivian. Tell me about Boo Hoo.”

“His name is Max.”

“And you like him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t try that with me. I can tell you’re totally into him by the tone of your voice. You talk about hot guys pretty often, but your voice doesn’t go all soft and melty.”

“Did I go soft and melty?”

“Like Velveeta over an open flame.”

She sighed. “He’s all cold, but then he’s all
hot.
I don’t see him for days, then suddenly he’s all over me. And
then
he does something like arrange a video phone call with my mom. He had the webcam equipment shipped to my mom’s house and had it installed and everything.”

“Whoa. He wants to do you,” Gabe said with an air of authority.

“No, he doesn’t.” Carrie frowned. “Does he?”

“Hell, yeah, he does. No man goes through that kind of trouble for a woman unless he wants into her panties.”

“Charming.”

“Just stating it like it is.” Gabe’s shrug was evident over the phone line. “Have you sampled the goods?”

“What constitutes sampling the goods?”

Gabe’s laugh tinkled loud and delighted. “Babe, you’re a goner.”

“I know.” Groaning, she dropped her head into her hand. “I keep remembering how he felt when he kissed me in the hot tub—”

“The hot tub?” Gabe interjected. “You hung out with him in a hot tub?”

“We weren’t naked.” Though they might as well have been, for all the good wet cotton did.

“But he kissed you?”

“Um, yeah. Among other things.”

Gabe gasped. “No. You? Little miss goody-goody from Iowa?”

“I know! Can you believe it?” She shook her head. “I don’t know what came over me. One minute it was all innocent, and then he was slinking toward me with that look in his eyes and I was hit by some weird compulsion that I couldn’t resist.”

“Any other weird compulsions you need to confess?”

She remembered how his erection pressed against her, and her cheeks flushed. “I plead the fifth.”

“Oh, boy.” Gabe laughed. “I can’t wait for the next installment of
The Young and the Horny.
Will Carrie get freaky with her boss, or will she continue to long for him in silence?”

“That’s the thing. He’s my boss.”

“Only for a couple more weeks.”

“Thirteen days. And he’s one of the most prominent collectors of Chinese artifacts in the world. What if word gets out that I slept with him? I’ll lose credibility.”

“I see your dilemma. Would he kiss and tell?”

“Max?” She snorted. “He’s a man of few words.”

“There you go.”

“What if he gets in the way of my plans? I’m so close to achieving all the goals I set for myself.”

“You’re thinking too much, babe. This is just about fun, right? It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“Hmm.” If
complicated
didn’t describe Max, Carrie didn’t know what did.

“And I vote for fun. How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”