Secret Identity (8 page)

He couldn't stop his hands from traveling between the soft cotton and her heated skin. How did she make her skin so soft? It felt like silk under his fingertips. Her wet hair had been brushed and lay down her back. He enjoyed the smoothness of it as his hands roamed over her body while their mouths pleasured each other. He wanted her, there was no denying the fact, but when he thought about her, it was her fire that he wanted. He was a schmuck. What was he doing, taking advantage of her like this? Slowly he pulled back and looked down at her closed eyes. Her dark eyelashes rested on her high cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to kiss every inch of her face and her body, but now was not the time.

“Carter?” Her eyes were open and she was looking at him. “What exactly am I to you?”

He knew it took a long time for him to answer her, but a million scenarios played through his mind at that moment. Here was a unique opportunity. They were going to be alone in this house for who knows how long. Mitch was handling the business, so there was no rush to get back to New York. Her parents, well, who knew where they were. He thought of all the fights and arguments they'd had over the years. Eve had never let him get this close before. Sure, there were the two nights before her attack, but he could blame her state of mind on having to get her drunk first. Looking down at her face, he knew she wasn't drunk now.

Then a light went off in his mind. This was his one clean shot at happiness. She might just kill him if she ever got her memory back, but the odds were in his favor that she'd be so in love with him, that it wouldn't matter. He decided that was a chance he was willing to take and opened his heart and told her what he'd been feeling for as long as he could remember.

“Eve, you are everything to me. You're the woman I'm going to marry.” He watched her eyes get bigger, then soften and he knew that maybe, just maybe, he had a chance of happiness.

E
ve sat across the room and watched him cook in the large kitchen. She enjoyed seeing him move around as he hunted for pans or dishes.

“It's been a while since we've been here.” He smiled at her. “I've forgotten where everything is.”

He found the plate he'd been hunting for and set it near the stove, then looked at her. “So, you really don't remember anything? Like foods you like or don't like?”

She shook her head. “Why? Is there something in particular that you had in mind?”

He laughed. “No. You pretty much liked it all. We never could tell how you could stay so skinny after eating more than us.” He turned back to the fish he had simmering in a pan. “Of course, you're quite the runner. Never could beat me though.” He looked back at her and she didn't know how she knew it, but she knew he was lying. Instead of saying so, she just smiled.

“So, tell me something else about myself.” She leaned her elbow on the countertop and watched him. He had a nice body. His shoulders were wide and his hips were narrow. When he bent over to check on the potatoes in the stove, she enjoyed the way his worn jeans looked over his tight backside.

“Well, you're an only child, like Mitchell and me. We went to Huntington School district our whole lives until we graduated, then we all went to Princeton. It was a big shock when we were all accepted together. Shortly after, Mitch and I started K&E Agency. A few years back…” He trailed off. His back was to her, so she couldn't see his face, but then he picked right back up. “A few years later you came on board and the rest is history.”

“Why didn't I start the business with you?” She watched his body movements, waiting for any sign.

“You had received an offer from a larger company. You went and worked there until you decided it wasn't for you anymore.” He turned back to her and smiled. “Here, you can set the table.” He motioned to the plates and silverware.

She got up and started setting them on the large table. “This was your grandparents’ house. From the pictures, it seems I spent a lot of time here.”

“Yes,” he smiled over at her. “Every summer, you and Mitch would stay, up until we were done with college. Just before my grandparents died.”

“How did they die?” She looked over at him.

“My grandmother died of cancer shortly after we graduated college. My grandfather died in his sleep shortly after that. My mom thinks he died of a broken heart.”

“Your mother? Where is she?” She sat up a little.

“She died two years ago.” He turned back around and tried to busy himself with cooking.

“I'm sorry, Carter.” She sat back and thought about it. “Do you still have your father?”

He turned to her and looked into her eyes. “I never really had my father. He left when I was little. Hasn't shown his face since I was three years old.” He shrugged his shoulders. “My grandparents and many uncles and aunts, my cousins, all filled in where my family was lacking. Not to mention I had you and Mitch to keep me company.”

He leaned against the countertop while the fish sizzled. “My grandfather built the place when all their kids were young. My mom was one of eight. Most of them are gone now, since mom was the youngest of the bunch. She lost two brothers in Vietnam, a sister in a fire a few years later, and the rest are off somewhere else with their own families. When my grandparents died, they left the house to my mom and when she died, well, the place came to me.” He turned around and took the fish off the stove.

“Am I close to my folks?” She bit her bottom lip, afraid of the answer.

He looked at her, then walked over and took her hand. “Sorry, sweetie. Your father is a strict military type. Your mother…Well, she falls in line with your dad, and to be honest, I can't remember the last time you saw either of them.”

Her shoulders dipped a little. “What about Mitch?”

Carter's eyebrows shot up. “Mitch? Well, his mother lives outside of Boston. She plays tennis three times a week, attends all the country club events, and is sure to have someone younger than us in her bed at least once a week. His father lives in California and pretty much lives the same life.”

“Is that the reason we bonded so well? The lack of family?” She helped him carry the food to the table.

He nodded. “That and the incident.”

She set the plate down and looked at him. “The incident? What incident?”

He smiled. “I think that's a story for a later time. What do you say we eat?”

She shook her head, “No, you don't. You cannot spring something like that on me and get away with not answering.” She crossed her good arm over her chest. It didn't give the whole effect, since her left arm was in the sling, but he still got the idea. Finally, he sighed and pulled out a chair for her.

“Okay, but let’s start eating first. I'm hungry.” He

nodded towards the chair for her to take a seat. She walked over and sat down, smiling. She tried to be patient as they dished their food up and both started eating. When half his fillet was gone, he finally looked up at her.

“
It was back in grade school. Mitch and I were already friends. You were just this little girl with braces and glasses that followed us everywhere. We thought you had a crush on one of us, since you wouldn't leave us alone.” He took a sip of his beer. “Mitch had heard from Vance Kyle that Rodney Stoller's cousin had found this really cool hang out place under the freeway. Well, when Vance dared Mitch to go there and spray paint his name on the walls, I decided my best friend couldn't be called a chicken. After all, we were at a crucial time in our lives. Girls were starting to look a lot more like fun to us and that meant we had to impress them. And after all, what about spray painting a cool hangout didn't scream chick magnet?”

Eve laughed, the sound almost shocked her and she covered her mouth. Carter smiled. “Go ahead, sweetie. You've always had such a wonderful laugh.”

She smiled at him.

“Well, we decided that I would pretend to spend the night at his place and he'd tell his folks he was staying at mine. You know, the old switch-a-roo.” She nodded. “So, after school that next Friday, we hopped on our bikes and rode like the wind to our hangout, a tree house we'd built a few summers back with Mitchell's dad. When we got there, you were there. We'd told you a million times not to come there, but you never paid attention to us. We said something mean, like, “Girls suck” and you went off crying. Finally, after ditching you, we packed our stuff on our bikes and took off, using the map Rodney's cousin had made for us. What we didn't know was that in order to get to this cool hangout, we had to cross a busy highway. It took us two hours to find a bridge and cross under. By that time, it was almost getting dark. Mitch was complaining about it, but I reminded him we had our flashlights and reflectors on our bikes. No ten-year-old thinks he's vulnerable. When we got there, we realized there were a bunch of drunks living under the bridge. They had their barrels full of trash they were burning and little makeshift homes made out of cardboard boxes. It took us ten minutes of arguing before we finally decided it wasn't worth risking. We tagged both our names on the cement pillar just outside the underpass and started heading back home. But when we got a few yards away, we noticed a pink Barbie bike hidden in the bushes.” He shook his head. “So we turned back around and rushed back to the bridge, thinking the worse.” He picked up his beer and took a slow sip. Then he picked up his fork and started eating again.

“Well?” She leaned closer. “What happened next? What was the incident?”

He looked across from her, his eyebrows raised. “What do you think happened?”

She thought about it, tried really hard to pull any sliver of memory from her brain. Nothing. She shook her head and noticed his eyes dull a little as he frowned.

“When we got to the bridge, we looked on from the bushes, too afraid to go out in the open with so many scary people. Finally, as we were about to turn back and go for help, we heard your laugh. Slowly, we stepped out from our hiding spot and followed the sound. We found you sitting next to an old woman, holding a cat that looked like it had been run over ten times. There were a few other people sitting around the fire with you and you were telling them all about your two best friends, Mitchell and Carter.”

“I wasn't afraid of them?” She couldn't see or imagine her ten-year-old self doing something so brave.

He shook his head. “No, not only were you not afraid of them, you ended up going back there once a month for two years to talk to that old woman. We tagged along, just to make sure you were safe.”

“Of course you did.” She smiled at him. “What happened?”

His smile faltered. “They found her, the old woman, one winter, frozen to death. Someone had stolen her blankets and boots.”

Eve's eyes turned damp and she realized she was crying for a woman she didn't remember. “Why?”

“Why did they steal her stuff? Probably to keep warm themselves.”

“No, why did I go back every month? Why would I do such a thing? Why would you let me do something so dangerous?” She stood and carried her dishes to the kitchen, hating the tears that were streaming down her face. She set her dish in the sink, half-eaten food and all. Leaning on the counter, she frantically wiped at the tears.

“Sweetie, there was no stopping you.” He stood right behind her. Then his hands went to her shoulders and he turned her around to face him. His fingers reached up and wiped her tears away gently. “When you got something into your head, there was no stopping you. You had showed up two ten-year-olds who thought they were the bravest of the brave. You, a ten-year-old, Barbie-bike-riding girl. You were much stronger and braver, we just had to be your friends. From that night on, the three of us were inseparable.”

He pulled her close, her face buried in his shoulder. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm crying over someone I don't even remember.”

“Eve,” he pulled back and looked down at her. “Stella was like a grandmother to you. You’d never had a grandmother before. That summer, after she died, your folks let you come up to my grandparents’ house.
You and my grandmother instantly hit it off and were always together from then on
. Just look at the pictures all over the house. You were the granddaughter she never had. I have a lot of cousins, boys, all of them.” He smiled and pulled her close again.

She went to bed in the large soft bed that night and her mind refused to shut down. She wished for images to pop into her head, memories of the events Carter had described, but nothing did. She picked up the photo book and started looking through it again.

There were so many pictures of the three of them together, but none of the images showed any clue that she and Carter were an item. When had they become an item? Was it recently? What had sparked that first interest from friendship to something else?

She had so many other questions, but didn't quite know how to ask him. It would have been a lot easier if she'd had a few close girlfriends she could ask.

Looking at the pictures, she realized there wasn't even a picture of her with any girlfriends. Did she have any close ones?

She set the book back down and tried to close her eyes, but images kept flashing under her dark eyelashes. Getting up, she walked over and flipped on the television. Watching the news, she finally fell asleep.