The Marriage Mistake (9 page)

Her fingers fisted. Should she invite him up? Too soon? Too dangerous? Questions and scenarios flitted past her, making her wish she was more experienced with men. By the time he pulled up to the curb, nerves knotted her stomach. He shoved the gear into park. “Wow, it’s getting rough out there. Why don’t I walk you to the door?”

Her instincts raced. No, inviting him up wasn’t wise. She didn’t know him that well. But a good make-out session in the car sounded perfect. The hammer of rain pounded around them and cloaked them in a heavy fog of darkness. “No need for you to get all wet. I’ll say good-bye here.”

“Okay.” She waited. He shifted in his seat and suddenly looked uncomfortable. Carina pushed past the procession of voices screaming in her head that she wasn’t good enough, sexy enough, or woman enough for Edward to want to kiss her. She closed off her natural insecurities and inched closer in the seat.

“I had a really good time.” Her tongue licked her lower lip. His gaze sharpened, and the tension twisted a notch. Thank God, he seemed interested. Maybe he was shy? Fine, she’d make the first move. It would be good practice for her.

“Umm, I did too.”

She moved another precious inch. His brown eyes filled with a strange mixture of longing and unease. Carina closed her eyes and took the leap.

Her lips touched his.

For one awful moment, he didn’t move. Her heart pounded in fear of his mixed signals, but then carefully, as if afraid to scare her, he kissed her back. Warm lips moved over hers and she relaxed under him, inviting a more intimate exploration. Her arms came up to touch his shoulders and she willed him to surrender to the embrace and hopefully take them deeper.

He ignored her signals, kept his hands firmly in his lap, and retained a gentle, almost reverent tone to the kiss. Her heart dipped in disappointment. Slowly, she opened her lips under his and gave him full access. Skin burning for contact, heart beating, she made a low moan deep in her throat in an all-female cry for more.

Edward pulled back.

His breath came uneven. A slight touch of panic touched his expression and he gave a short laugh. “Wow. I’m sorry, Carina, I didn’t mean that.”

She jerked back. “You didn’t want to kiss me?”

His hands shot out to grasp hers in a soothing gesture. “No, you misunderstand. Of course, I wanted to kiss you. It’s just that Max warned me and—”

“Max?” Every muscle stiffened. A roaring echoed in
her ears and she shook her head to clear it. “What did Max say to you?”

Another laugh. “Nothing, really. Max just explained you’re new here, and to take it slow, and that you’re not ready for anything, well anything, well—”

“Sex?”

He dropped her hands like she scorched him. The panic was back, this time full-fledged. Carina watched her sexy make-out session wither away like a neglected plant turned into a weed. “No! I mean, of course we’re not going to have sex. Hell, Max would kill me!”

She rallied even though it was the Civil War all over again and she was definitely on the Southern side. “Max has nothing to do with me,” she stated calmly. “He’s an old friend of the family, but he doesn’t control what I do, and would never interfere with your job. If you’re interested in me, that is.”

Seconds passed. She waited. Prayed for a little gumption from this man who could be more than a first date. Longed for him to yank her back in his arms, cover her mouth with his, and declare he didn’t give a shit about Max. Instead, a slight chill formed around them that had nothing to do with the sudden rain. She’d lost.

And Max won again.

“I’m sorry, Carina.” Misery etched every feature. “I love my job, and I really, really like you. But Max made it clear you need a permanent relationship and I’m not ready for a commitment.”

She gathered up her composure and wrapped it snugly around her. With a cool smile, Carina nodded. “I understand, I really do. Thank you for a lovely evening. And don’t worry about feeling awkward in the office. Let’s be friends.”

The word stuck in the back of her throat like a glob of peanut butter but he brightened at her statement. “Yes. Friends is perfect. See you Monday.”

She slid out of the car and ran to her door. Fitting the key in the lock, she flipped on the lights and stepped inside. She peeked out the window and waited for Edward’s car to pull away. Then without missing a beat, she grabbed her keys, and ran to her car. Her hands shook as she started the ignition and put the heat on full blast to take the chill out of the air. Water dripped in a puddle on the seat, but she ignored her discomfort. Anger burned bright and clean until there was only one goal in her mind. One thing to fix the entire ridiculous disastrous night.

Kill Maximus Gray.

M
ax listened to the steady beat of rain against the window while he sipped his cognac. The liquid danced on his tongue and licked with a fiery sweetness. Instead of soothing his nerves, his fingers clutched the snifter with agitation.

She’d been right.

Again.

As if sensing his disturbance, Rocky emitted a low mutter, blew out his breath, and resettled with the bulk of his body on Max’s feet. The comforting warmth soothed him a bit, and he dropped his hand to pet his head—a hulk of sharp bones and ugly lines that made him one of the homeliest dogs he’d ever seen in his life.

The bond had been instant when he caught sight of the battered soul at the carnival. A small booth had been
devoted to giving away free puppies, and he’d passed it with his date. She’d cooed and coddled the cute balls of fur, while Max remained patient and checked out the various games. He figured if he won her one of the stuffed animals, he’d be in the perfect position for her gratefulness later. Not that there was any doubt, from the obvious comments she made as the night wore on. He’d been planning his path of success when his gaze caught on the stout, muddy pit bull at the corner of the booth. A ragged rope was wrapped around his massive neck, too tight and literally choking his breath. The dog didn’t seem to care, just measured his breath so he wouldn’t pant too much, his eyes sharp with the knowledge that this was his lot and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

His mouth hung in a droop, and drool poured from one side of his lip. Bruises matted the sides of his body. One ear was literally half chopped off. But when the dog’s eyes finally met and held with Max’s, a bone-deep knowledge that Max had to own this dog pushed all other thoughts aside. He was a fighter—both in and out of the ring. And he deserved more than this bullshit.

The kids running the puppy booth charged him one hundred dollars to carry him away. Probably would be used as a bait dog since his fighting-dog days were done. Max untied the rope, bent down, and told the dog they were going home. With a dignity known to the breed and unknown to the masses, Rocky picked himself off the dirty
floor and followed him out of the carnival. Max lost his date but gained his best friend.

And Laura hated him.

The moment she came into his apartment and saw Rocky, she let out a girly screech that irritated him. He spent a few minutes explaining the dog was harmless, but when she shuddered and insisted he be locked up, Max made his choice. For the second time, he chose Rocky, and Laura left without a glance back.

The sad part was that he didn’t care.

God, was he really like his father after all? Unable to dig deep enough to stick around and love someone the way they needed?

He remembered the day he learned the truth. Other kids had daddies, and Max always wondered why he didn’t, until the day he asked his mother. She told him the story with a quiet dignity and love that made him believe it was all going to be okay. She never lied, but afterward, he’d been angry at his mother for months. Because she
did
tell him the truth. He wished so hard she’d lied—told him his father was killed in the war, or left for the sacrifice of his family, or had a terrible accident, so that he could boast to his class friends.

Instead, his mother informed him his dad left after he was born. In a small traditional town, it had been the biggest gossip with more whispering than people had experienced in a long time. Going to church and sitting in the
pew every Sunday was torture. Divorce was frowned upon, and his mother was the only one who broke the cardinal rule. Most of their friends and family protected them from the worst of the cruelty, and eventually, he learned to put up barriers so nothing hurt.

His mother tried to give him everything, but a longing to know why his father didn’t want him haunted him for years and left an empty hole in his gut. Didn’t most fathers fall madly in love with their newborn babies? What had he lacked that most men claimed? How could a new dad walk away from his family and never contact them again?

When he finally turned twenty-one, he decided to find out.

He used the Internet and his trust fund to find Samuel Maximus Gray living in London. He remembered the dingy town on the outskirts of the city. Dirty. Crowded. Low-class. His once wealthy, impeccably dressed father had eventually lost his fortune and his dignity. Max followed him to the local pub and watched as he stared at the television and drank pints. Finally, he approached him. Max remembered every detail as if the encounter rolled in slow motion.

“Do you know who I am?”

He stood before his father, heart pounding and sweat trickling down his armpits. The man looked so different from the young, smiling man in his mother’s photos. This one was bald, with a bloated face. His blue eyes had a foggy mist over them, as if too much hard play and alcohol
had taken their toll. He looked up from his Guinness and squinted in the dim light of the bar. Studied him for a long time. Max smelled peanuts, smoke, beer, and failure.

“Crap, yes. I know who you are.” His slight English accent clipped out the words. “Don’t much look like me, though.” Max waited but his father just stared at him. No apology. No embarrassment. Nothing. “What are you doing here?”

Max shifted his feet. “I want to know why. Why did you leave?”

The man shook his head and took a large gulp of his beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Didn’t you get the money?”

“Yeah, I got the Goddamn money.”

His father flinched. “Then what do you want from me? I gave you up but made sure you’d have enough to build your life.”

Nausea rolled in his gut but he hung on, knowing he had to finish the encounter. “Didn’t you ever want to stay? For my mother? For me?”

His blue eyes turned hard. “I loved your mother but I never promised her I’d stay. I didn’t want a family. I did the best thing for you. Gave you enough to build your life and left you alone.”

The truth cut through the air strong and true. His father had never wanted him. Never regretted leaving. Never even thought of them.

The gaping, raw wounds burned, but Max stood tall and knew they’d heal. Nothing would ever hurt as bad as this again.

“Thanks for clearing that up, Dad.”

He walked out of the pub, into the night, and never looked back.

Max contemplated the amber liquid. Why was he thinking such thoughts tonight? He rarely thought about his father and never questioned his decisions about women before. Carina knew nothing about his love life, yet she seemed to sense on a gut level what made him tick, like no other female other than his mother ever had. Max figured it was her innocence and young age that attracted him. He’d always wanted a sister to protect and cherish.

So why wasn’t he thinking of her as a sister anymore?

The image of her kissing Edward tormented his mental state. Surely, he’d warned the man with enough force to make sure nothing serious happened. Hadn’t he? Should he call Michael? Edward’s cell phone? No, they’d think he was
pazzo
. Should he drive by her apartment and confirm she was okay?

He tapped his finger against his chin and wrestled with the possibility.

Then he heard the doorbell.

Max eased his foot from Rocky’s head and walked down the hallway. Who the hell was here this late on a
Saturday night? Did Laura come back in this storm? He peeked through the side window and studied the lone figure on his doorstep. What the—

He twisted the knob and pulled. “Carina?”

His mouth fell open. She trembled on the top step, her filmy dress soaked and plastered to her body. Her hair hung in ragged curls around her face and stuck to her cheeks. Shoeless, her red toenails curled in a huge puddle beneath the hem of the dress. He reached out to pull her inside, but one glance at her face paralyzed and shocked him to the core.

Fury.

Her eyes spit like an ancient goddess bent on revenge. Chin tilted, mouth tight, fingers curled into fists, she panted as if she’d gone ten rounds in the ring with Rocky Balboa himself.

“You son of a bitch.”

Ah, shit.

He paused and teetered with the sanity of letting her in. With a muttered curse, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her through the door.

She pushed his hands away and glared at him as she dripped in his foyer. “How dare you interfere with my love life?” she hissed. “You—of all people! You—who wouldn’t know a relationship if it bit him in the ass!”

“That is exactly my point, Carina.” Max drew his professional, calm demeanor around him like a robe. If he remained
logical and pointed out his fears, she’d settle down and they’d have a nice chat by the fire. First, he needed to convince her exactly why he stepped in. “Edward doesn’t do relationships, and I didn’t want you to have regrets. Especially when you see him in the cold light of morning. You deserve more than that.”

If possible, his argument seemed to enrage her further. She shimmered with pulsing waves of energy, her skin gorgeously flush. The wet fabric molded to every curve, and her hard nipples pushed against its barrier in an effort for freedom. He smothered a curse as his body responded in all primitive madness. He hardened, and dimly noticed the evidence against the thin fabric of his sweat shorts.