“Which one is it?” Carrie asked, thinking she knew but feeling it only polite to ask.
“Twentieth,” Mike reported with a frown. A frown that didn’t much become him, Carrie decided. His was an open, expressive face meant for love and laughter. Carrie blinked hard at the thought, wondering where that love part had come from. “And the sad thing is—after all these years—I’m only going to prove those fellows right.”
“Which fellows?” Carrie asked.
“The ones who voted me ‘Most Likely to Remain a Bachelor’.”
“Hmm.”
Mike turned to look at her, his eyes catching a glint of sunshine bouncing off the spreading oaks that surrounded the pool area. They were deep-green eyes and swimming like the ocean, a deep, lulling current Carrie was quite sure she could get lost in if she wasn’t very, very careful. “That’s not why I proposed to Alexia, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Alexia?” Carrie pondered. “Sounds very—sophisticated.”
“That’s a polite way to put it.”
Carrie laughed. “Well, I’m sure not the most objective one to pass judgment at the moment.”
“And you and yours?” Mike asked. “Mr. So-Wonderfully-Terrific you felt compelled to chuck his ring into the pool?”
“Well, I doubt I could be very objective about him either,” Carrie admitted, sheepishly studying her toes through the straps of her sandals. “But then again, men like Wilson Haywood don’t deserve much objectivity.”
Mike cracked a grin. “Wilson, huh? Sounds very—sophisticated.
Carrie’s lips pulled into a smile.
“Say,” Mike began, his eyes lighting with mischief. “I’ve got it! How about we get your Wilson together with my—”
“Afraid it wouldn’t work,” Carrie said, shaking her head. “Wilson’s already taken.”
“That fast? That’s gotta be some kind of… Oh,” Mike said, his smile fading in understanding. “No wonder you chucked his ring! So tell me, what was it with this guy? Deaf, blind, or stupid? Or possibly all three?”
Carrie let loose a belly laugh, delighted with the turn this conversation had taken. “All three, I guess,” she said, giggling into her hand. “And your girl? Alexis?”
“Alexia,” Mike corrected.
Carrie shrugged.
“You’re right,” Mike agreed. “Really doesn’t matter anymore now, does it? I mean, you give a gal the perfect ring…”
Carrie suddenly realized she still had Mike’s ring clutched in her hand with the other. “Oh my goodness,” she said, attempting to pass it over. “Here! I almost forgot!”
Mike shook his head. “Finders, keepers.”
“Now, wait a minute! You left this on the table by accident!”
Mike gave her a sly wink. A wink that did terrific things for the tingles that had been lying dormant in her spine. “You quite sure of that?”
“Of course, I’m sure. You went to all the trouble to dig it out of the pool, didn’t you? The ring obviously still means something to you, even if the woman you intended to wear it doesn’t.”
Yeah, Mike thought, that ring still meant a lot. Like about three thousand dollars, an amount he honestly couldn’t afford to throw away, not with his renewed plans to move to the Caymans. If he was to make that long-lost dream a reality, he’d have to start counting every dime.
Mike stretched a reluctant hand in Carrie’s direction and took back the ring.
“Quite a game of ring toss we’re playing here, eh, Mike?” Carrie asked with the most compelling smile he’d seen on her face yet. Boy, wouldn’t his old high school buddies just die if Mike showed up with someone like that on his arm. Classy but genuine, with an unguarded warmth that seemed to be getting hotter by the minute.
Mike wiped an arm across his moistened brow. “Got that right,” he said, giving her a smile. “And it’s getting a little warm out for ring toss…” Her dark eyes widened, expecting who knew what kind of proposition. “But perfect for a swim,” he finished as he watched the color rush back into her face.
Yessiree, she was quite a looker. Would knock every one of that high school gang out cold! If only Mike could think up a way to take her.
“Oh no,” Carrie said, scrambling to her feet. “I’m not much for swimming.”
“No?” Mike asked, standing beside her. “But why in heaven’s name not? It’s hot as blazes out—”
Yes, damn it, Carrie could quite appropriately feel the heat. It was sticking to every inch of her with gummy fingers that prickled her skin with perspiration and sent a cascade of droplets sliding down her cleavage. But no way in Hades was she going to let a man as perfectly formed as Mike Davis see her practically naked in a swimsuit—even her modest, one-piece kind. Carrie wore her dresses ankle-length for a reason, a reason that centered mostly around her buttocks and thighs.
“Besides,” Carrie added hastily, “I’ve got some packing to do.”
“Packing?” Mike asked, looking crestfallen. “But I thought for sure you were staying. Isn’t there some sort of two-night weekend minimum at this place?”
“Why yes, but—”
“Well, then, what’s your hurry?”
And why, Carrie wondered, scrunching up her lips, was he trying so hard to convince her to stay? “I’ve got things to do,” she informed him. “Arrangements to—cancel.”
“And tomorrow will be too late?”
“Might be,” she told him, meaning it absolutely. Too late for a lot of things. Particularly her heart. This man, Mike Davis, had an unsettling effect on her. His whole wounded-puppy-dog ploy had worked wonders at disarming her emotion. Emotion she’d sworn only last night, as she stood weeping by this same pool, she would indefinitely keep under wraps.
“Aw, come on,” he coaxed with a crooked grin. “I’ll bet your room’s already paid for.”
She looked at him and blinked. The fact was, Wilson had already footed the bill.
“Hey, I’m not proposing anything indecent here.” For some reason, that admission did not make Carrie happy. “Only a little attempt at sweet revenge.”
Carrie eyed him suspiciously. “Revenge how?”
“Revenge in our not letting them ruin our weekend.”
Big, fat chance of that one, Carrie thought. More than her weekend had been ruined. How about her life? “Listen, Mike, it’s a sweet idea, your wanting to keep me company and all…”
Now that was putting it mildly, Mike thought, feeling the rising sun beat down through his stuffy cotton shirt. Disturbingly, he was finding himself wanting to more than “keep her company.” He wanted the opportunity to not even let her out of his sight—for the next twenty-four hours, at least.
The guy who’d tossed Carrie away just as cavalierly as Alexia had thrown his ring in the pool had been a total imbecile. The sweat dribbled down Mike’s open shirt collar and pooled, damn it, somewhere near his navel. Without even trying, the woman set him virtually on fire. And here she was saying she was about to leave?
Carrie tapped her toe against the pool deck and considered his disappointingly not-so-indecent proposal. Forgetting the drop-dead gorgeous part, he did appear to be a very nice guy. Maybe even nice enough to be her friend. Which would be a definite first for Carrie St. John, as she’d never befriended any man for longer than thirty-six hours without things between them becoming intimate. But, of course, as her track record consisted only of two serious beaus, maybe she was being a bit hasty in making a sweeping assessment.
Besides, friendship was good. Perhaps even what she most needed at the moment. And having a friend who looked and carried himself like the athletically inclined Mike Davis, could quite possibly come in handy. Maybe even in the very near future.
“All right, I’ll stay,” Carrie said, “but under one condition.”
“Any condition’s fine with me,” Mike said, knowing that as long as whatever it was involved his taking off his boiling clothes, it would be A-OK with him. Particularly if it involved Carrie St. John stripping down as well.
“You understand this thing between us is about camaraderie. Two down-and-outs on the same flip side of the coin. Compadres.”
Mike gave her a tight smile, damning every inner instinct he had and telling his licentious libido to behave. “Sure thing, Carrie,” he said, reaching out an arm to shake her hand. “We’ll play it any way you want.”
Chapter Three
Carrie sat in the narrow oaken stairwell, finally getting a cell signal. The remoteness of the inn made service unpredictable. Carrie hadn’t been able to pick up more than two bars anywhere but here.
She nervously twirled a lock of chestnut hair, rehearsing what she would tell her grandmother.
I’m sorry, Grandmother, but things just didn’t work out…
No, Carrie had already been there and done that one. Besides, her second strike would make her look like a total washout, not the “together” young woman her adoring Grandma Russell took her to be.
Grandmother, there’s been a last-minute change in plans…
Nope, that would only make her look inconsiderate. Horribly inconsiderate, given the wedding shower was scheduled for tomorrow.
Carrie sighed and hit autodial, trusting something brilliant would come to mind the instant she heard her grandmother’s voice.
“Hello?”
“Grandmother, it’s Carrie—”
“Oh, sweetheart,” her grandma began in her endless prattle, “so lovely to hear your voice. Amelia and I were just discussing china patterns, and we really think the one you—”
“Grandmother…”
“Oh, lands sakes, child. I know, I know! Really none of my business. But, to tell you the truth, the everyday pattern you picked is ever so much more attractive and could really double for formal ware if push came to shove, and—”
Carrie blew a hard breath. This was going to be even harder than she’d imagined. “Grandmother!”
“Well, okay, okay, dear. You are absolutely right about that! Who needs to fret over china patterns when you’ve got a perfectly gorgeous man on your arm!”
“Grandma Russell!” Carrie shouted into the phone.
“Well, gracious me, child, you don’t need to yell. Ma Bell’s improved quite a bit since the days I courted your grandpa.” She chuckled. “Lands sakes, child. Meant that one the other way around—quite the other way…”
Carrie sighed and slumped back against the wall behind her.
“Now, sweetheart,” her grandmother finally asked, “what was it you wanted to tell me?”
Carrie racked her brain for a creative intro. “Well, it’s about seating arrangements, actually.”
“Tomorrow, sweetie? Your great-aunties and I’ve got that all worked out. No need for you to fret one bit. Nellie even hand-stitched the place cards.”
The bottom dropped out of Carrie’s stomach. “Aunt Nellie crocheted those beautiful lace place cards? But, I thought… That was supposed to be part of her wedding gift! I thought she was making those for the…wedding.”
“Couldn’t wait to see your face, she said. And you’ll have to really butter her up on this one too, sweetness. She did a divine job. Absolutely divine! You would think the royal family was coming to tea, and not just your wedding party.”
Carrie swallowed hard and tried to summon her courage. “Grandma…?”
“Yes, dearie?”
“What time is the shower again?”
“Land sakes, child, you are a nervous bride, aren’t you? Four o’clock, same as it was last time you asked. But don’t worry if you’re not here right on the button. Just don’t make us old gals wait too long. You know how it is with us geriatrics. We tend to nod off after a while when nothing’s happening!”
“Don’t worry, Grandma,” Carrie said. “I promise not to put anybody to sleep.”
Grandma Russell chuckled. “From what you’ve told me, you and that handsome groom of yours will be sure to wake up any crowd!”
“Right,” Carrie agreed, feeling the fire of deceit spread from her temples to her collarbone.
“Can’t wait to see what he looks like, dearie,” Grandma Russell crooned into the phone. “Me and the girls have been speculating all day.”
“That makes two of us,” Carrie said quietly, ending the call.
“What’s that?” Mike asked from the landing.
Carrie looked up, startled. “Oh, Mike, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“No?” he asked. “Could have sworn you said something about the two of—”
“Oh no,” Carrie said with a blush. “That was my grandmother. Just got off the phone with her about…”
“Some of those plans that needed canceling?” Mike ventured.
Carrie gave him a shaky smile. “More or less.”
“Say, you all right?” he asked, taking the steps two at a time and coming up to where she sat trembling at the bend in the stairs. “Because to tell you the truth, Carrie, you don’t look so hot.”
“Bet you say that to all the girls,” she said, twisting her lips into the best imitation of a smile she could muster.
“Actually,” he told her, “it’s just the opposite.”
“Now I see why you’re not married.”
Mike crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “This has something to do with Wilson, doesn’t it?”
Carrie vehemently shook her head as moisture brimmed in her eyes.
Mike cocked his chin and scrutinized her.
“Okay,” she admitted, making an inch-wide motion with her thumb and forefinger. “Maybe a little…”
Mike shook his head and held his ground.
“All right already! More than a little bit, okay? What is it exactly you want me to say?” she asked as coal-hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “That my life is a total mess? That everyone in my hometown is expecting me to show up for a bridal shower tomorrow—with my groom-to-be—and my groom-to-be has dumped me for a woman with a better financial portfolio?”
Mike dropped down on the step beside her and draped a steadying arm around her trembling shoulders.
“You don’t have to be nice to me,” she asserted, trying her damndest to set her jaw but failing miserably.
“I know,” Mike said, reaching over and raising her chin. “But I want to be.”
“But why?” Carrie asked with a sniff. “What could possibly be in it for you? I’ve already told you I want nothing more than…”
“Carrie, I have a question,” Mike said, searching her bleary eyes.
“About what?”
“The people at this shower. Do they know…? I mean, have any of them actually met Wilson?”