by Tina Michele
*
Carson was late for work, so she didn’t think that taking a few extra minutes to talk to Becky would make much of a difference. While the thought of having a conversation with Becky while she suffered from a miserable hangover didn’t sit well with her, she couldn’t put it off. Becky had been working with the Textiles team on the Louis rooms, so Carson beelined across the foyer toward the staircase. It was both the quickest and the easiest way to get there. She sprinted across the length of the room toward a group of ladies that mingled at the bottom of the steps. All of the women save one stepped back and made way for her. Without breaking stride, Carson leapt onto the second step. It was then that this woman attempted to move in order to avoid an impact. The startled woman’s eyes were wide, and Carson was captured by them.
The woman was gorgeous and stood out from everyone around her in both age and beauty. She was short and beautiful. Her warm, sun-soaked blond hair and deep brown eyes consumed Carson’s consciousness. Her hair was tied back in a haphazard coif with wild and unruly curls. Carson gave the woman her most delightful smile. She fought back the sudden desire she had to stop dead in her tracks and speak to her. She was on a mission, but she didn’t need to look back to know that the woman’s eyes were still on her. She felt the gaze as she continued up the stairs. The heat burned through her body even after she reached the second floor landing. Carson hoped the conversation with Becky would be a quick one so she might find a way to cross paths with the alluring stranger elsewhere in the building.
Carson found Becky right where she’d expected to. For Carson, the key to cutting off girls like her was to keep things simple and focus on the positives. It was a proven tactic perfected by experience. Except with Becky, Carson was lured into continued contact with the promise of good sex. This time, she had to break it off completely—just friends and no sex, period. Carson motioned to get Becky’s attention and waved her over.
“Hey, baby. How are you feeling?” Becky smiled and reached out to stroke Carson’s arm.
Carson slid Becky’s hand off her arm and down to Becky’s side. “I’m all right. A little hungover, of course, but otherwise I’m fine.”
“I was worried about you this morning when you didn’t text me back, baby.”
“Becky, we need to talk. And please stop calling me baby,” Carson whispered as she led Becky back into the corner of the room.
Becky’s eyes lit up with anticipation for an intimate moment in the corner with Carson. She pushed her body in closer, and Carson backed away. When Becky moved in again, Carson’s back pressed against the wall. She placed her hands on Becky’s shoulders to put some distance between them. She swung around with the openness now behind her. Becky looked at Carson with confusion. “What’s wrong with you, Carson?”
“Nothing. We just need to talk about last night.”
“It was nice, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. No. I mean look. We can’t do this anymore. We talked about this, and it’s not fair to keep holding you back when you have so much ahead of you,” Carson explained. “You have so much talent. I think you should focus on your internship and moving on from here. You and me, it was fun, but I can’t give you what you want and it’s selfish of me to lead you on.”
“Lead me on? I’m a big girl, you know. I can make my own decisions.”
“That’s not what I meant. I mean—” Carson started again.
“Oh. So I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough for a relationship?”
“That’s not what I said. At all.” Carson backtracked. “Becky, please don’t be like that. We both agreed that our relationship would stay physical. And I just think it’s time for you to start focusing more on your future and less on me, on sex. That’s all.”
“Carson, we could work on it, you know. You could start to like me for more than sex. But you won’t. What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything, Becky. I just can’t give you what you want. I know this is for the best.”
Becky crossed her arms. “Whatever. You don’t even know what I want.”
Carson knew what Becky wanted. She wanted a long-term relationship. She wanted Carson to fall in love with her and have babies, but it just wasn’t going to happen. Becky had years of life to live before she needed to think about settling down. Carson knew who she was and was living the life she had worked for. Becky was just starting out, and Carson didn’t want to relive those parts of her life again. The room started to fill with people, and Carson knew she needed to end the conversation. “I’m sorry, Becky. I am. We can talk more later if you want. I’ve got to get downstairs.”
“Yeah, fine. Whatever. I need to go find Mr. Whitley anyway,” Becky said as she left the room.
Carson saw that Becky’s eyes glossed, yet she didn’t see the emotion that should have accompanied the tears. She hadn’t expected to get away without making Becky cry, so she was a little surprised that in addition to relief she also felt selfish and disappointed. “That was easy.”
Carson smoothed down her shirt and stepped out into the crowd. She spotted the woman from the staircase and stepped back again. She tried as best she could to blend into the wall behind her. Carson watched as the woman looked around frantically as the herd of people pushed their way in toward her. Carson also watched in disbelief as the woman reached out and clenched onto the refurbished, 110-year-old damask chair on the other side of the rope barrier.
Carson was disgusted by the woman’s apparent lack of respect for Biltmore property and for the rules of the estate. Either the woman was unable to read the hundreds of posted signs that stated “Do not touch” or she was just another entitled jerk who lacked any respect for history. She had seen it a hundred times during her internship in Italy, and she despised the audacity of such people.
Carson waited for a guard to appear. They would either give the woman a warning or escort her from the premises. The reprimand would depend on if this was her first offense or not. The woman possessed a confidence that was obvious by how she carried herself. It was intriguing and sexy, and seduced Carson in an unfamiliar way. She continued to observe the woman as she proceeded into the next room. Wait. Where are the guards? Carson scanned the area for security that she would have expected already. Lacking any presence of guard personnel, Carson took on the responsibility and followed the woman, her head still hammering away. It wasn’t a wholly undesirable decision.
Chapter Five
Carson weaved with purpose through the crowd toward the blonde who stood in the middle of a small group of women. One of them spotted Carson as she approached and attempted to hide the look of surprise on her face. Carson watched the woman nudge the person beside her and whisper something. Whatever it was caused the others to snap their heads in her direction, including the one she was after. Carson’s forward movement stopped when her eyes met the dark brown ones that stared back at her. The young woman’s eyes were wide with surprise. Carson was intrigued as she watched the emotions battling on the woman’s beautiful face.
She had smooth, porcelain skin with flushed cheeks and natural pink lips. The charged and unflinching gaze melted Carson from the inside out. She was overwhelmed with the swirl of energy that stirred in the space between them. Carson had never before experienced such a magnetic and brain-scrambling pull to be closer to another person. She stopped in her tracks, having all but forgotten why she pursued the woman in the first place.
When a security guard tapped the woman on the shoulder, she was reminded of why she had pursued her. Carson felt as though all the air rushed from the room the moment she looked away. The fire that burned inside her was snuffed out and left her with an unusual and peculiar chill. Carson could not shake the desire to be closer, to at least hear her voice. As the woman and her group acknowledged the guard, Carson approached them. She would use the excuse that she acted on behalf of the estate if anyone questioned her presence.
Carson’s previous anger had almost dissipated, having been
overshadowed by far more intense feelings. However, the woman had activated the alarm, and regardless of her exceptional beauty, she needed to be confronted about her negligence. As Carson’s heart rate increased so did the pounding in her head.
“Hello, ma’am. It appears that you touched a piece of furniture in the other room. And—”
“No. I didn’t. See, it was—” The woman took an unexpected and defensive stance and was interrupted by the guard.
Carson was surprised at the woman’s attempt to deny any wrongdoing. Even without the alarms and video system, Carson had witnessed it. Don’t deny it. She squeezed the bridge of her nose as her head increased its pounding cadence. Just admit it and move on.
“Ma’am, the alarm,” he said as he pointed to the inconspicuous light that strobed in the corner of the room. It was accompanied by the subtle and distant ring of a bell.
“But I didn’t. I mean it was an—” the woman stuttered. Carson found it hard to believe that she still attempted to deny it.
“Yes, ma’am, you did. I was there,” Carson stated matter-of-factly as a means to resolve the situation.
The woman spun around and glared at Carson. Her expression morphed through surprise and embarrassment to anger. She’s mad? This woman is going to get defensive about something we have proof she did? She’s even gorgeous when she’s mad.
“No. I mean, yes. I did, but—” The woman’s eyes burned with a heat that could have been interpreted as either passion or fury.
“So you did or you didn’t?” Carson was encouraged by the woman’s struggle to defend herself and the fire in her stare.
“If you would stop interrupting me, I would explain to you.” The woman placed her hands on her hips.
Carson almost smiled at her defiance. It was unbelievably sexy. “Explain what? That you can’t read? That you didn’t think the signs and notices applied to you?” Carson had no idea why she rattled the woman’s cage, but she enjoyed it with devilish enthusiasm.
“Oh, my God. Are you serious? Who are you and what gives you the right to speak to me like this? I touched the damn chair. I’m sorry and I feel horrible about it. It was an accident.”
“We work very hard here to preserve and protect these treasures for the future, and people like you—” Carson was silenced by the guard’s firm hand on her shoulder. By the look on his face, he was taken aback by her unordinary sternness.
“Ms. Harper, I can handle this, ma’am. It’s okay. I’m certain she understands the impact of her actions and will not make the mistake again. Is that correct, ma’am?” The guard looked back and forth between them.
“People like me?” she asked Carson. “Oh, I understand. Ms. Harper, was it? And believe me when I say that there will be two of us not making the same mistake twice.”
Carson heard the threat and wrestled to hold back a smile. “Well, I can hope you won’t, but I wouldn’t place bets on it.” Carson winked at the woman, thanked the guard, and sauntered out of the room before she even had a chance to retort.
As Carson headed down to her office, she reprimanded herself for the way she had acted. Her head hammered with every step she took down the stairs. She shouldn’t have gotten involved. She should’ve waited for the guards. It was their job, not hers, but something inside Carson was drawn to the woman. It was almost primal, and as the woman grew more agitated, Carson grew more ravenous.
She pushed the door open, and it stopped with a thud. Carson heard someone grunt in pain followed by a yell. “Seriously?” Carson nudged the door open and peeked inside. Jim backed away as he grasped his hand and grimaced.
“Damn, girl. Where’s the fire?” he asked while he rubbed his wounded fingers.
“Right here,” she said as she clutched her chest where her heart pounded. “Do you ever have those days where you don’t think you should get out of bed?”
“Sometimes. Why?”
“Because I thought that was the kind of day it was going to be. Turns out, it’s not as bad as I thought.”
“Well, that’s great, kiddo. Mine was good before someone went and broke my damn fingers.” He exaggerated a frown. “Oh, Bree is here, and I want you to meet her when you get a second. She’s upstairs pretending to be a tourist.”
Carson liked the way Jim’s face lit up when he spoke about his niece, and it made her smile. “Great. I look forward to it. Tell her to watch out for a terribly gorgeous rule-breaking menace I just left up there.”
“Um, okay then. I’ll let her know.”
After Jim left, Carson sat at her worktable and pulled herself close to the ceramic sculpture she needed to finish cleaning. It was a tedious job, but she loved it and it cleared her head of anything and everything around her. Everything except for the way the woman had looked at her. The raw looks of desire, fear, and anger were scorched into Carson’s body and mind.
*
As soon as he left Carson’s office, Jim’s phone rang. “Hey, Breezy, where are you?” Jim hadn’t expected the frustration he heard in her voice. “Whoa, kiddo. Slow down. What happened? I’ll be right there.” Jim headed off to find Bree and figure out what in the world had her so enraged.
He found Bree in the entranceway. She paced back and forth in a group of older ladies who stood around while they cooed and murmured at her. He had no idea who the women were or why they consoled her. “Hey,” he said while he looked around at the ladies who scrutinized his presence.
Bree looked at him. She was on the verge of tears, and that meant one of two things. She was either devastated or furious. By the tone of her voice on the phone, he went with the latter. “I have never been so disrespected in all my life. I am not a child. I know very well what I did. I didn’t try to deny it or make excuses. Who does she think she is?” Bree took a shallow breath.
“Calm down. What are you talking about, sweetheart?” He looked around at the women again. It was obvious that they knew something that he didn’t. He raised his eyebrows in question, but they offered nothing. He turned back to Bree. “Bree, look at me. What happened?”
“That woman. I touched a chair. It was an accident. There were so many people, I was just trying to get out of their way. But she saw me. She said she saw me, and she attacked me.”
“Attacked? Someone attacked you? Sit down, here.” Jim led her to a bench to sit down. “Relax for a minute.” Bree shook with anger. He looked at one of the women who stood behind him. “I’m her uncle. Can you please tell me what happened?” As soon as he introduced himself, the protective stance of the women relaxed, and they explained what happened.
They explained the highlights. Jim’s head snapped back and forth as each woman interjected a part of the story. He felt as if he watched a fast-paced tennis match. Jim listened with focused attention to each woman’s account until he heard the name of woman who had “attacked” Bree. He stopped them. “Wait, what? Ms. Harper? Are you sure?” They described Carson to a T, and he connected Bree’s situation with the “gorgeous menace” that Carson had mentioned moments before. “Oh, shit.”
*
Bree exchanged contact information with Gwen, Suzanne, and her new friends. She was glad to know that Gwen and Suzanne lived in the area. The other women were close friends and visited the area often, so Bree hoped she would see them again as well. Bree was disappointed that she had to end their pseudo tour, but she was so worked up that she knew it would ruin the rest of their visit. Bree was beyond angry that her beautiful day had been destroyed by a crazed staff member with terrible social skills—albeit a crazy, captivating, and gorgeous staff member.
Jim followed as Bree headed straight to the car. She didn’t want to disrupt his day any further, but she wasn’t in the mood to continue her tour of the estate. She would have plenty of time in the future to wander the halls, if she ever managed to acquire a position in the house. “That woman was insane. People that rude should not work with the public.” Bree offered her opinion as they walked along the trail to the parking area.
“A bad day?” Bree looked at him as if he had two heads. “That’s not an excuse. Bad day or not, that was both unprofessional and uncalled for. Who is she, anyway? There is no way in hell she can be a guard or guide with that despicable attitude. If she is, she should be fired.”
“I, uh, don’t believe she is either,” he said.
“Well, as long as she doesn’t work in the curatorial department I couldn’t care less. You know everyone. How do you not know a Ms. Harper?”
“I, um…I don’t know. She must be new, maybe an intern?”
The idea that the wretched woman was an intern brightened her day a little bit. Interns were temporary, and positions were for a maximum of six months. So even if she was in the curator’s department, it wouldn’t have been for long. Bree couldn’t imagine that such a Neanderthal was a preservationist or conservator. It’s unfortunate, she thought. The dark-haired woman was stunning and stirred long-forgotten sensations deep inside Bree. She knew those eyes held passion and excitement, but Bree had overlooked the part labeled “crazy.”
“Psycho,” Bree said out loud, but mostly to herself.
“Oh, Breezy, maybe psycho is a bit exaggerated. She’s not that…I mean, I don’t think she’s a psycho.” Jim rubbed his forehead.
Bree disagreed. No sane person would have approached someone in public and berated them in such a way. Bree knew her mistake, and she also knew the damage that could be caused if everyone accidentally touched the displays. “Maybe if I’d ripped a swatch from the seat and stuffed it in my pocket I would’ve deserved such an inquisition. But it wasn’t an act of purposeful vandalism, and the guard was more than skilled in how to advise and educate visitors on their mistakes.”