She's All Tied Up: Club 3, Book 2 (32 page)

Would Jake ever be able to get beyond that version of reality? Ever trust that his mother had been the worst possible version of a wife and mother, the opposite of everything Carlie believed in?

She blinked, realizing that she’d been thinking of Jake, marriage and parenthood in the same category. Holy handcuffs, Batman, that was enough to make her want to wave the waitress down and demand something stronger than iced tea.

She wasn’t even sure she should have sex with Jake again, much less anything more. He was like a giant magnet, pulling her to him, making her want him more than she’d ever wanted another man. But the power of their attraction combined with their pasts could end in something wonderful, or end up damaging both of them beyond repair.

Because Jake wasn’t the only one who could screw up. She was human too. What if she channeled the worst of her mother and hurt him the way he’d hurt her?

Maybe neither of them was ready for this. Maybe they should just end it now, before hearts broke.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Carlie stood in the hallway between her bedroom and her sitting room, phone to her ear.

It was Saturday evening, six forty-five.

She wore a new gown, a slithery swoop of silver satin that draped from the halter top down over her breasts in a waterfall effect, baring her shoulders and a bit of cleavage. It hugged her waist and hips, then fell straight to just above the floor. From her ears hung silver earrings made of gathered fine chains of silver that hung down to brush her shoulders, shimmering like water when she moved. They’d looked ridiculous on the rack but perfect with the dress. On her feet were silver sandals she’d purchased three summers ago on sale, worn once, but kept because, although silly, they were cute with little straps that ran up around her ankles and a twist over the toes. Her nails were deep pink.

The dress had not been on sale. From the evening wear section at Nordstrom’s, it had cost a lot, but she’d fallen in love with it the moment she put it on and purchased it as a pick-me-up gift to herself. The purchase took her savings/checking account uncomfortably near the cushion that she never touched. However, her bills were paid, she had a fat 401K and Monday was payday, so she bought it.

Daisy was on the other end of the phone line. Carlie had already spoken to Trace, who had told her cheerfully that her date would be there in a little while. She’d just processed his odd choice of words when he hung up. Next, Sara called to tell her to have a wonderful time, and remember to just go with the flow and enjoy herself.

It was then that Carlie’s tummy clenched, as she realized that something was going on.

By the time Daisy phoned, Carlie was standing at the front window of her apartment, watching with shock and consternation—and a rush of joy so huge and powerful it nearly sent her to her knees as not Trace but Jake mounted her stairs.

Jake, clad in a tux—a sight she’d never in her wildest dreams thought to see. Jake, with a florist’s box under his arm. Jake, looking so handsome and sexy she was ready to throw open her front door and leap on him.

Then she looked down at her fitted, revealing gown and scurried back into the hallway, hiding against the wall as if he would break down the door and find her.

Find her wanting was what she truly feared. She could hear his voice again, saying she was slutted up, the echo that had faded over the last several days once again loud.

“Jake’s here,” she blurted into her phone.

“I know,” Daisy said excitedly. “Isn’t it awesome? Does he not
rock
that tux? Oh, be still my heart, that man is a fine hunk of muscle.”

Carlie gasped. “You knew he was coming?” And had seen him in the tux?

“Umm, yes?” Daisy agreed cautiously, as if realizing Carlie might not be as excited by the news.

“Does Sara know too?” The chime of her doorbell cut into her words. Carlie jumped and then ignored it. “What is going on?”

“We kind of helped him choose the tux,” Daisy admitted. “We just want you to be happy, Car. You gotta give him another chance. He’s trying to make it right.”

Jake pushed Carlie’s doorbell, and then waited stoically, flowers under his arm, the sun beating down on his back, clad in too many layers of cloth, the outer one black so it soaked up the heat like a blanket.

He heard no footsteps inside. What he heard was the sound of children’s voices in the parking lot along with skateboard wheels, and the excited bark of a dog. Then he heard his phone.

Scowling, he pulled it out of his pocket. Dack.

“Yeah?” he said.

“She’s kinda jacked up,” Dack said in his ear, his voice sympathetic. “Daisy’s talkin’ her down.”

“Okay,” Jake said.

“You good?” Dack asked.

“Other than I feel like I’m back in junior high, yeah,” Jake retorted.

Dack chuckled. “She’ll cave. Got a heart like a big ol’ marshmallow, according to Dais.”

Jake could believe that. He’d noted the way she treated her friends, how polite she was to strangers. He hoped to hell she’d extend that to him.

Sweat trickled down his back, under his shirt, vest and jacket. Junior high, hell, this felt like he was wearing his fucking body armor, ready to head out in the desert. His belly had the same half-excited, half-jittery ache too, like he had to be ready to kick ass or take a bullet and either could happen at any second. “Hot as hell out here,” he muttered.

“Ring the bell again,” Dack said. “Daisy’s makin’ progress. Later, man.”

“Later.” Jake pressed the doorbell again.

When there was again no answer, he turned, walked down two steps and sat, leaning his elbows on his knees, the florist’s box in the shade of his body. Then he waited. Doing his best to ignore the chilling fear that she was not gonna go for it. That she was done with him.

“He’s all duded up, just for you,” Daisy went on, relentless. Of course, Carlie could have hung up, but she didn’t.

“I don’t know, Dais,” Carlie said, knowing she sounded like a six-year-old and not caring. “He hurt me. Maybe I should just let him wait.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Daisy said, her voice sharp. “What do you mean, you should let him wait?”

Carlie opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“Just tell me one thing,” Daisy said. “When did my sweet, tender-hearted friend get to be such a bitch?”

Carlie gasped as if Daisy had kicked her in the stomach.

“Jake is a Marine, and he’s a dom, for crying out loud. And yet he’s out there, humbling himself,” Daisy scolded. “He spent hours yesterday trying on tuxes with Trace and me and Sara, and then getting one tailored, which, believe you me, men do not enjoy—okay, Trace does but he’s Mr. GQ so he doesn’t count. But Jake? Seriously, Carlie, do you not see this?”

Wow, when Daisy put it that way… Carlie sidled over to the window and peered out again. He did look pretty damn hot, all duded up in black and white like that. He even had on a vest. God, she loved those fitted vests on a guy, and on his incredible physique—well. Made her knees weaken. For one shattering instant, she pictured herself kneeling at his feet in subjugation, and her pussy spasmed, her breasts tightened.

Jake also looked hot temperature-wise. His freshly shaven face gleamed with perspiration. Oh no, it must be ninety out there on those steps. She watched him swipe the back of his hand over his forehead.

He also held his phone to his ear, although he was mostly listening, not talking.

“Well, maybe I do,” she mumbled.

Daisy snorted. “Ain’t no maybe about it, sistah. Now, are you gonna woman up and give him a chance, or do I have to come over there?”

“She’ll open the door,” Trace said in Jake’s ear.

“Maybe,” Jake muttered. “Maybe not.”

“She will. I know women, and she’s into you, big guy. So just sit tight, stay cool and be ready.”

Jake snorted. “Next you’re gonna tell me to go to my happy place.”

Trace laughed. “You’re gonna end up in your happy place, bro. But not till you’ve earned it. Women love this shit.”

Jake grunted in acknowledgment, but he knew something Trace didn’t. The place he most wanted to be had changed. Hell yeah, he wanted Carlie bound at his command, wanted to fuck her into Monday morning, but he also just wanted to be at her side, the recipient of those shy, blue-eyed glances and her goofy jokes. He wanted to be the man who put her in his truck instead of watching her drive away in that cute but silly car of hers.

“I’m gonna end up pussy-whipped like Dack, aren’t I?”

“Aw, not such a bad place to be,” Trace said. If Jake hadn’t been so preoccupied, he would have heard the melancholy note in his friend’s voice.

Carlie surprised herself by snickering. “No, don’t come over. Anything but that. Okay, I’ll…I’ll talk to him. I will.”

“Oh, you’ll do better than that,” Daisy said. “You will go to the goddamn formal with him, and you will be
nice
. Not too nice, because he still has some work to do, but—Dack! Give me back my phone.”

But the next voice Carlie heard was Dack’s, his deep voice gentle. “Carlie, honey, you know you owe Jake the chance to make this right. Now go on, open the door, let him in, and then just…take it from there. Daisy’s right. He’s a proud man, honey. Took a lot to get him this far. Don’t know that he would’ve done it for any other woman.”

Carlie rolled her eyes heavenward, blinking hard as tears filled her eyes. “Ohh,” she moaned. “Do not make me cry again, Dack.”

“Truth cuts deep, honey.”

“Okay, I’m going. And…thanks. I think.”

Dack chuckled. “That’s our girl. Take care. No, Petal, you did your thing, you can talk to her some more tomorrow.” The phone clicked shut on Daisy’s muffled protests.

Carlie set her phone aside. Then she took a deep breath and opened the door.

Jake stood, and turned, sliding his phone into the front of his jacket. Holding the box, he mounted the two steps. They stared at each other for a long moment. The stark white of his pleated shirt and black of the tux emphasized his tan, the crystalline gray of his eyes. He looked magnificent, as if his physique, his masculinity had been refined in a sleek, civilized display designed to bring a woman to her knees, at his feet, begging him to be with her.

His gaze swept down over her and then back up again, taking in every detail hungrily. He cleared his throat, jerked his chin in acknowledgment. “Damn, baby. You look…amazing. Beautiful.”

“Really?” she blurted. “You don’t think it’s too…” She watched him warily.

He shook his head once, decisively. “No such thing as too much of you.”

She smiled, feeling it all the way to her toes. “Oh. Thank you. So do you—look amazing, I mean.” This close, the effect was doubled. Make that tripled.

When she finished her own once-over, his mouth was curved up at the corners, his eyes warm. “You look at me like that, makes it worth gettin’ duded up in this monkey suit.”

Carlie nodded. “I know it seems over the top, but Martin’s wife wanted a formal party that would echo their wedding, so…he’s making sure she gets it. With his employees to swell the ranks. And believe me, it’s worth it to see you looking like this.”

He chuckled deep in his chest, then gestured with the box. “Worth it to see you in that dress. So, can I come in?”

She nodded quickly and stepped back, holding the door open. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry—it’s hot out here.”

“I’m fine.” He passed her and walked slowly into the middle of her foyer, looking around him. “Looks different in here.”

"Oh, I just moved a few things." She was surprised he noticed. Cooped up in her apartment, she'd gone crazy one day and rearranged her furniture.

"Looks good. Looks like you."

“It does? How?”

He shrugged. “Pretty. Classy. Cozy.”

“Cozy?” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re comparing me to my sofa?”

He stepped closer, his gaze falling to her cleavage and heating up. “No, baby. Cozy, like a man could rest his head and be pillowed in the softest, sweetest place in the whole fuckin’ world.”

Carlie caught her breath as the tenderness of his words wrapped around her, along with the image of his head pillowed on her breasts. Both were so sweet, she couldn’t stand it.

She stepped back, fanning herself with one hand. “Please don’t talk like that. Not now. If I cry, I’ll ruin my makeup.”

He grinned, his teeth gleaming as white as his shirt front. Too late, she saw her mistake. Crap, she’d just admitted his compliments had enough power to bring her to tears.

“Can’t have you doin’ that,” he said. “Gotta take you out and show you off to all those corporate types.”

He held the florist box out. “Here, brought you some more of those roses. There’s also a little wrist thing—corsage, I mean.”

She looked into the box. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

She would have stepped away, to go and put the box on her dining table. But he reached out one hand and caught hers, engulfing it in his gentle grasp.

“Later, you and me are gonna talk, baby. All night, if we need to. I still got fences to mend, I know that.”