In Too Deep (3 page)

“Y
ou're still here, Carmen.”

Carmen drew in a quick breath before turning around where she stood in the kitchen. Matthew had said he was returning to the polo matches—she hadn't expected him back so soon. At least she'd had time to put on some clothes and start dinner.

“I told you that I'm not leaving, Matthew. I deserve my time here so I figure you can do one of two things.”

“Which are?”

She was surprised he asked. “You can call the cops and have me arrested for trespassing, which should make interesting news this week. Or you can leave me be and ignore the fact that I'm here. This house is big enough for you to do that.”

She studied his features for some clue as to which option he fancied. And then he said impassively as he leaned
against the kitchen counter, “The latter will cause just as much ruckus as the former.”

He was right about that. Ever since she had publicly thanked him when receiving her Oscar, the tabloids had claimed a reconciliation between them was in the works. The paparazzi had shadowed their every move, determined to find out if the rumors were true and the Hollywood darlings were ready to kiss and make up. And then her agent had come up with this idea to make things even more interesting by introducing Bruno into the mix. Plus there was the matter of his lingerie model.

“I'm sure when you explain things to Candy, she'll understand,” she said with warm humor in her voice. Of course Candy wouldn't understand, but then Carmen really didn't give a royal flip. Candy had had her eyes on Matthew for years and hadn't wasted any time latching on to him after their divorce had become final.

He stared straight into her eyes when he asked, “And what about Bruno? Is he an understanding sort of guy?”

The heat of his gaze touched her in a way that she couldn't ignore. She knew he meant to be intimidating and not sexual, but that look was as sexual as anything could get and she wasn't happy about the surge of desire flowing through her. The memories of what usually followed such a look swirled all around her and touched her intimately. Bottom line, Matthew Birmingham could make her feel like no other man could.

“Must be pretty serious if you have to think about it.”

She blinked upon realizing he'd been waiting for her response while she was thinking that he could still take her breath away. “Yes, he's an understanding sort of guy.” She would let him ponder exactly what that said about the seriousness of their relationship.

Carmen turned to check the rolls she had put in the oven
earlier. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a tank top. He'd always liked how jeans hugged her backside, and she was giving him an eyeful now as she bent over. She heard the change in his breathing and inwardly smiled. Poor baby, he hadn't seen anything yet.

“If I decide to let you stay,” he was saying behind her, “there have to be rules.”

She turned around and lifted a brow. “What kind of rules?”

“Bruno isn't welcome here.”

She could live with that, since she hadn't intended to invite him anyway. “And what about
your
Miss Candy? Will you respect me as your former wife and keep her away while I'm here?”

It annoyed her that he actually had to think about his answer. Then he said, “I guess our plans can be rearranged.”

A coldness settled in her heart. His response meant two things. He
had
intended to bring Candy here, and the two of them were sleeping together. The latter shouldn't surprise her since she of all people knew how much Matthew enjoyed making love. That was the one thing the two of them had in common.

“Does that mean you're okay with me staying, Matthew?”

“Seems you're hell-bent on doing that anyway. And like you said, the less the media knows about our business, the better.”

She laughed. “You're concerned with the media? You? The same person who kissed me in front of a tent filled with people, including Ardella Rowe?”

“Like I said, you kissed me first.” He looked over her shoulder at the stove. “So, what are you cooking?”

“Something simple.”

“I didn't know you could cook at all.” The amused glint in the dark depths of his eyes made her smile, as well. Matthew didn't smile often but when he did, it was contagious—and sexy.

“I started cooking after Rachael Ray had me on her show.” And then, because she couldn't help it, she added, “I'd prepared a couple of meals for you when I thought you would be coming home. When you never showed up, I fed everything to the garbage disposal.”

He looked at her as if he wasn't sure she was serious. “Here's another rule, if we're going to be here together. No talk of the past. You bailed out on our marriage and I'd rather not get into it—”

“I wasn't the one who bailed out, Matthew,” she countered, lifting her chin. “You replaced me.”

A fierce frown covered his face. “What the hell are you talking about, Carmen? I was never unfaithful to you.”

“Not in the way you're thinking,” she said, truly believing it. “But there
was
a mistress, Matthew. Your work. And she was as alluring to you as any woman could be. I couldn't compete and eventually stopped trying.”

His frown deepened. “I don't want to hear it. I've heard it all before.”

He'd heard, but he hadn't listened. “Fine,” she said, “then don't hear it because personally, I'm tired of saying it. “

“You don't have to say it. We're divorced now.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between them, although the chemistry they shared was keeping things sizzling. She knew he felt it as much as she did, and wasn't surprised when he tried easing the tension by asking in a civil yet curious tone, “What are you making?”

She glanced over at him. “I've smothered pork chops
with gravy and got some rice going along with homemade rolls and field peas.”

“You prepared all that?”

“Yes. I made more than enough—you're welcome to dig in, too. Later we can toss for the bedroom.”

He raised a brow. “Toss for the bedroom?”

“Yes, toss a coin to see which one of us will get the master suite, and who will have to settle for one of the guest rooms.”

He shrugged. “Save your coin, I don't mind using the guest room. I'm going to wash up.”

Carmen watched him walk out the kitchen, thinking that while revenge might be sweet, she needed to watch her step where he was concerned, especially since all she had to do was look at him to remember how things used to be between them—both in and out of bed. But for some reason she was reminded more of how things were in bed than out. It didn't take much for sensuous chills to flow through her body whenever he was near, even during those times she found him infuriating.

A wave of uneasiness washed over her. It was too late to question whatever had possessed her to take him on since it was too late to back off now. And the one thing she did know was that she would not go down in defeat.

 

“I never got the chance to thank you for mentioning me at the Academy Awards during your acceptance speech,” Matthew said, glancing across the table at Carmen as they ate. “You didn't have to do that.”

He hadn't expected her to give him any kind of acknowledgment when she'd accepted her award. He'd figured, considering how things had been during the divorce, that his name would be the last one off her lips that night. It had been quite a surprise. But then, she was always surprising
him, like when he'd returned from washing up to find she'd set the table for two.

“Of course I did, Matthew,” she claimed. “Regardless of how and why our marriage ended, I would not have taken that role if it hadn't been for you. You made me believe I could do it.”

He didn't say a word as he thought back over that time. He'd known she could do it and along with Bella Hudson-Garrison, who was cast as the lead, Carmen had given a stellar performance. Bella had walked away with an Oscar for best actress, and Carmen won best-supporting actress.

He had arrived at the Kodak Theater and walked the red carpet alone, surprising many by not having a woman on his arm. His manager, Stan, had tried convincing him to bring a date, since chances were Carmen would be bringing one. But he hadn't taken Stan's advice. And when he saw Carmen had also come alone, he'd been happy, although he'd tried convincing himself he didn't give a damn.

He'd felt bitter that night, knowing she should have strolled down the red carpet on his arm. And she'd looked absolutely radiant; her gown had been stunning. On that night for a brief moment, he had placed his anger aside and had rooted for her getting the award she truly deserved. And when she had unselfishly acknowledged him as the driving force behind her taking the part, the cameras of course had switched to him, to gauge his reaction. His features had remained emotionless but on the inside, he had been humbled by what she'd done.

“So, Matthew, what's this new business venture you're involved with here in New York?”

He blinked, and realized he'd been staring at her like a fool. He quickly glanced down at his wineglass to get his bearings and recoup his common sense. When he felt
pretty sure he had done both, he responded, “You know that although I enjoy doing features, it's always been my dream to make a documentary.”

Carmen had known that. While married, they had talked about his dream many times.

“Well, earlier this year I learned that New York is gear ing up to celebrate the one hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary of the Statue of Liberty's dedication, and that the city is looking for someone to film a documentary highlighting the event. The last big documentary was directed by Ken Burns back in 1986, and it was nominated for Best Documentary Feature.”

She nodded. “That was a while ago.”

“My name was given to the committee, and I've met with them several times over the past year. I learned yesterday that I was selected. They've requested that I use a New York–based film crew, and I don't have a problem with that. It only means I need to be here for preproduction, not in L.A. It's important that I get to know the people I'll be working with and they get to know me and my style.”

She knew just what he was talking about. Matthew was an outstanding director, dedicated to his work and he expected those who worked with him to be dedicated, as well. She'd been in two of his movies and both times had been in awe of his extraordinary skills.

A sincere smile touched her lips. She was happy for him. In fact, she was ecstatic. God knows he'd worked hard to prove himself in the industry, which was one of the reasons why they were sitting across the table from each other not as husband and wife but as exes. Still, she would put the bitterness aside and give him his due.

“Congratulations, Matthew, that's wonderful. I am truly happy for you,” she admitted, standing and carrying their plates to the sink.

“Thank you,” Matthew said, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers together as he watched Carmen move across the room with more grace than any woman he knew. There was a jaw-dropping sexiness to her walk that had the ability to turn on any man, big time—especially him.

It hit him just how much he missed seeing her and spending time with her. The last time they'd been together had been in the judge's chambers, ending their marriage with their attorneys battling it out to the end.

“So, you're committed to being here all summer then?” she asked, turning around, leaning against the counter and meeting his gaze.

He smiled, wondering what she would do if she knew he was practically stripping her naked with his eyes while thinking of all the naughty things he wanted to do to her body. “Yes.”

“Working?”

“Basically.”

“Which means I'll rarely see you.”

Matthew flinched. She knew how to say things that could make him grit his teeth. She made it seem as if he'd never given her any attention while he worked. Well, that was about to change. He was on a mission to seduce her and then kick her out on that hot little behind of hers.

“Maybe you will and maybe you won't. There will be days when I'll be working from here.”

She shrugged. “It doesn't matter, Matthew. Work drives you no matter when and where you're doing it. That's all you ever think about.”

He could tell her that wasn't true since at that very moment, he was thinking about how he wanted to make love to her once he got her back in his bed. “If that's what you want to believe.”

She laughed shortly. “That's what I know. Now, if you don't mind, I intend to go to bed.”

He shot her a confused look. “Bed? Don't you think it's kind of early? The sun's still up,” he pointed out.

She lifted a brow. “And your point?”

My point is that I can't very well seduce you if you are making yourself scarce.
“There's still time to do things tonight.”

“I agree, which is why, after putting on my pj's, I plan to sit out on my bedroom balcony with a good book and watch the sun set over the ocean. I might go for a swim in the pool later tonight, but you shouldn't be concerned that I'll be underfoot. Like I said, this house is big enough for both of us. See you later.”

She turned and left the kitchen. He watched her go, admiring her body, remembering her touch, more determined than ever to get her in his bed.

C
armen curled up on the chaise longue on the private balcony off the master suite. If she were going to seduce Matthew, the last thing she needed to do was appear too accessible, too anxious to be in his presence. That was the reason she'd decided to go to her room first rather than straight to the pool.

A cool breeze was coming in off the ocean. She recalled making love with Matthew on this very balcony one night that first year he had brought her to the Hamptons. She had been concerned that their neighbors would see them, but Matthew had assured her that they had total privacy. The house had even been built in a no-fly zone, which kept the overzealous paparazzi from taking to the skies.

She glanced at the book she'd placed on the table, a romance novel she had been trying to get through for the last couple of days. It's not that it wasn't a good book—it
was—but it was hard to read about someone else's fantastic love life when hers had gone so badly.

Instead of resuming the book, she decided to close her eyes and conjure up her own love story with her and Matthew in the leading roles. Things between them had been romantic during the early days of their marriage, especially that first year when he hadn't wanted her out of his sight. They had been in bed more than they had been out. Matthew was something else in the bedroom—he'd been able to reach her on a level that went deeper than any man ever had—and a part of her knew that no other man ever would.

From the moment they'd met, something had passed between them that was instinctive, and primitive. She was surprised she'd been able to read her lines during the audition session. That day, for the first time in her life, she'd discovered how it felt to truly desire a man.

She had gotten the role because Matthew had seen something in her. He thought she was good, and was going places. Although the temptation to become his lover during filming had been great, she had been determined to keep things professional between them.

After they'd wrapped the movie, they had their first date. He had taken her someplace simple—his favorite bar and grill for hamburgers, fries and what he'd claimed was the best milk shake she would ever taste. He'd been right. That night had practically sealed her fate. They'd dated exclusively for six months and then that Christmas, he'd asked her to marry him and she'd said yes.

The media had kept tabs on their budding relationship, referring to them as Hollywood's Darlings—Matthew, the staunch bachelor who claimed he would never marry, and she, the woman who'd stolen his heart. Their courtship had been as private as they could make it, but that hadn't
stopped the paparazzi from stalking their every move and painting them as the couple whose marriage was most likely to succeed in Hollywood. Boy, had they been wrong.

Nearly five years later and here they were, no different than most other Hollywood couples—divorced and blaming the other for what had gone wrong. She drew in a deep breath, not wanting to think of how she'd felt being replaced by his career. The loneliness and pain had nearly swallowed her whole. Although by that time she'd had success as an actress, as a wife she felt like a total failure—a woman who couldn't compete against her husband's workaholic nature, who couldn't entice him away for a smoldering-hot rendezvous.

More pain settled around her heart as she remembered she'd lost more than her husband's attention in Barcelona. She'd also lost the child they had made together. Had she gone full-term, their little girl or boy would have been almost four months old by now.

She felt her lip trembling and fought back tears. She wanted to recall the good things about their marriage. She wanted to remember how well they'd gotten along in the beginning, how she would respond to just about anything when it came to him. His soft laugh, his touch, the sound of his breathing…that look he would give her when he wanted to make love.

She had seen that same look in his eyes today in the kitchen. She didn't know what racy thoughts had been going through his mind, but her body had responded and a rush of sensations had flowed through her. Her hormones had surged to gigantic proportions and it would have been so easy to cross the room, slide onto his lap, curl into his arms and bury her face in the warmth of his chest. Then she would have kissed him the way she used to. Kissing
him had the ability to make her all but moan out an orgasm. In fact, a few times she had done that very thing.

She had the satisfaction of knowing he wanted her. Although she was woman enough to admit she'd desired him, too. What she had to do was keep her desires at bay while continuing to stir up his. That was her game plan and she intended to stick to it. She would not get caught in her own trap.

But there was nothing wrong with getting wrapped up in memories while lying stretched out on a chaise longue with the breeze from the ocean caressing her skin. Memories were a lot safer than the real thing. With her eyes still closed, she vividly recalled the night when she and Matthew had come out here, naked and aroused, with only one thing on their minds.

They had gone to a polo match and returned home, barely making it up to their bedroom to strip off their clothes. And then he had swept her off her feet and carried her to the balcony. Even now she could recall how fast her heart had been beating and how her pulse had throbbed. Pretty similar to how she was feeling now, just thinking about it.

He'd reached out to touch her breasts and her stomach had automatically clenched in response. Then she had watched in heated lust as he'd leaned forward and used his tongue to capture a nipple between his lips and—

“Carmen? Why didn't you answer when I knocked?”

She found herself staring into a pair of dark, sensuous eyes. His lips were so close to hers that it wouldn't have taken much for him to lean in just a little closer and taste her. And then there was his scent—aftershave mingled with man—that began manipulating her senses in a way that could be deemed lethal.

Her eyes narrowed as she felt a warming sensation
between her thighs. Matthew was crouched down over her. She fought to ignore the sensual currents that were rippling through her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice sounding strained to her own ears.

His gaze continued to hold hers. “I knocked several times and you didn't answer.”

The heat of his breath was like a warming balm to her lips. She was tempted to lick the fullness of his mouth from corner to corner. It didn't exactly surprise her that she was thinking of doing such a thing, considering what she'd been thinking about just moments ago.

She slowly pulled herself up in a sitting position, causing him to move back, for which she was grateful. The last thing she needed right now was to be in close proximity to him. The temptation was too great. “And why were you knocking on the bedroom door when I told you I would be out here on the balcony reading?” she asked.

“I need to get my things moved to the guest room.” He paused a moment and said, “I noticed you were sleeping, but figured I could get my things without disturbing you. But then…”

She lifted a brow. “But then what?”

A sensual smile touched the corners of his lips when he said, “But then I heard you say my name in your sleep.”

She faltered for a minute, then quickly fought not to show any emotions as she swung her legs to the side to get up, causing him to back up a little more. She stared at him, exasperated, not sure what she should say. She decided not to say anything at all. What was the use in denying such a thing? It probably hadn't been the first time she'd said his name in her sleep and more than likely it wouldn't be the last. After all, he'd once had the ability to make her come just by breathing on her. In fact, he probably still could.

“Go ahead and get your things, Matthew. I'm awake now,” she said, breaking eye contact with him to stand and gaze toward the ocean. He could think whatever he liked about hearing her say his name. She figured all kinds of thoughts were running through his mind—he was probably trying to figure out the best way to get into her panties right now.

She glanced back at him and her nipples immediately hardened when she noticed how he was staring at her outfit. She had changed into a strapless terry-cloth romper and it fit real tight over her backside. She knew just how much he enjoyed looking at that part of her anatomy.

He also used to compliment her on what he said was a gorgeous pair of legs. And now he was scanning her from head to toe, and concentrating on the areas in between. He wasn't trying to hide his interest.

“Is there a problem, Matthew?” she asked, watching his gaze shift from her legs to her mouth. Seeing his eyes linger there ignited a burning sensation low and deep in her belly.

His survey then slowly moved up to her eyes. A flash of panic ripped through her when she recognized the
let me make you come
look in his eyes. She felt her body succumbing without her consent.

“There's no problem, if you don't think there's one, Carmen,” he said throatily, her name rolling sensuously off his tongue.

“I don't,” she replied, easing back down on the chaise longue, knowing he was watching her every move. She stretched in a way that caused his attention to be drawn to her backside and legs once again. “I'm sure you don't need my help packing up your things.”

Too late she realized she'd said the wrong thing. His expression went from hot to furious. She knew he was
recalling the last time she'd said those very words to him, when he was moving out of their home in Malibu.

“You're right, Carmen. I didn't need your help then and I don't need it now.”