CARRIED AWAY

by Donna Kauffman

  Christy watched Trevor towel off his truck. She decided there was something inherently erotic about watching a half-naked man wash his vehicle. She leaned back against her already-sparkling car and sipped at her soda. Her body twitched as he slowly rubbed the towel along the shiny metal dips and curves. Oh, yeah, she thought, admiring the play of muscles along his shoulders, she could make this a weekly routine, no problem.

  In fact, at the moment, she thought she could easily spend her whole life watching him with that towel. He turned that moment and caught her staring.

  He winked and swatted her bare calves with the towel. "I'm almost done here."

  "Don't hurry on my account," she said.

  He lifted his eyebrows, but caught on to the focus of her attention quickly. With a leering smile, he continued drying the truck, but in such an overtly sexual manner, she found herself laughing. And getting turned on. Trevor did things like that to her.

  It's worth the risk. Viv's words came back to her, as they had almost every day since their little talk two weeks before. She'd thought about it a lot. All of it. And she'd had to admit that perhaps her best friend knew her better than she knew herself. But understanding, or trying to, didn't automatically make the fears go away.

  Because Viv was right about another thing, too. Christy was falling for Trevor. Hard. And with frightening swiftness. She didn't want to pull back, but at the same time, she couldn't help but want to freeze things at this moment. When it was fun and exciting and new. When the risk seemed miles away because it was all fresh and the anticipation was still at its peak.

  "You're thinking again."

  "Silly me," she said dryly, liking how his teasing smile made her feel. "If I'm not careful, I slip and do that from time to time."

  Trevor was leaning back against his now-gleaming truck, studying her in that disconcerting way he had. The way that told her he had, indeed, come to know her very well. In fact, she couldn't really remember a time when he didn't know her well. It was as if they were two puzzle pieces who had finally been put together. The fit was immediate and perfect.

  Something had to be wrong with that picture. It couldn't be that easy. Could it?

  He pushed away and walked up to her, all damp and sweaty and beautiful. "Want to talk about it?"

  "Talk about what?" she said, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingers, hoping to distract him.

  "About whatever it is that's bothering you. Is it Viv? I know she's only got a couple more weeks before she takes off. We've worked out all the details about her house. Do you feel weird about me moving in there?"

  "No. Not at all, I'm glad it worked out. It—it's not Viv," she said. "I mean, I am bummed about her going so far away, but we've talked a bunch and I'm feeling better about her decision. She's definitely got her head on straighter this time. I think they both have their relationship as the priority this time."

  "That's a good thing," Trevor said. "I know it must be hard when his career demands such a radical change for her, though. It's one of the reasons I never let myself get serious about anyone when I was in the service."

  Christy cocked her head. "What if you'd met someone who made you want to get serious?"

  He cocked his head right back, those blue eyes probing hers. "I suppose we would have had to make some tough decisions."

  "Would you have left the military if it meant losing her if you didn't?"

  Trevor laughed, obviously surprised by the line of questioning. "I don't know. I might have." He sobered and gently laid his hands on her shoulders. "Most of the places I went weren't fit for spouses, much less families. The risk factor was also pretty high. I never wanted to put someone in that position. So I was careful to make sure I wasn't ever tempted to."

  "Was your dad in positions like that? Did you worry about him?"

  "Fortunately, no. We moved often, but he was command staff pretty early on, so there was no direct risk to him. Not really."

  "Yet he never remarried."

  "No. He didn't." He studied her. "Where is all this coming from? What are you really worried about?"

  She shook her head, not even sure herself. "I guess it's all the thinking I've done about Viv and Eric. It's made me sort of reflective about relationships. I think of Kate and Mike on their wedding day, the way they looked at each other when they came out of the chapel. Viv and Eric looked like that, too. Then it all went south so quickly." She shrugged. "I know they're working on it, but it's still sort of scary to think about. I guess I think about my mom, too. I wonder why she can't just let go of her marriage-or-bust attitude and be happy alone. It seems like such a crapshoot, to allow yourself to care like that, put yourself in a position where someone else has so much control over your feelings and emotional well-being."

  Christy wasn't sure what she expected him to say. She couldn't even believe she was saying all this. Was she trying to shock him? Scare him off? She wasn't sure what she was doing. She just knew she was confused and it felt right to talk to him about it.

  "Would being alone guarantee your mother happiness?" Or you?

  He hadn't said the last part out loud, but she'd heard the question all the same. She couldn't answer for herself. A few months ago, maybe, but not any longer. "She's never really tried being alone. One relationship ends and she's on the hunt for the next one. I guess I can't imagine defining who I am by whether or not I'm with someone else."

  He tipped her chin up. "And you don't. You're not your mother. You're not Viv or Kate, either. You're you. You've got your head on pretty straight, you seem to know what you want. As much as anybody can. So what is it you're really trying to say here? Do you want to stop seeing me?"

  Stunned, Christy froze. "No. No, not at all. I guess I—I'm just trying to sort it all out, because—"

  He grinned then. "Because why? Because when you weren't looking, you somehow ended up in a relationship that might mean something to you?" He traced those long fingers over her cheeks and across her lips, making her tremble. "You mean something to me, Christy. And if you want to know if I think this is serious, then the answer is yes, I do." She trembled harder. God, why couldn't this be easier? Why couldn't she just throw all her hard-won caution to the wind, say what the hell and fling herself at him?

  "I don't want you to give up anything of yourself for me. That's the reason I enjoy being with you—the fact that you're sure of who you are and don't need to try and be anything else. Not for me, not for anyone. I want to be with you, enjoy you. Enjoy the way you make me feel, enjoy the pleasure we share in each other's company."

  "I—I want all those things, too."

  He slid his fingers into her hair. "Then we don't have any problems, do we?"

  But even as his mouth claimed hers, and she let the thrill of him slide all throughout her body … she couldn't help but feel like she was somehow waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  The other shoed hit the floor a couple of weeks later. Actually, it felt more like a whole closet of shoes.

  The first shoe had actually come when Viv left for Sweden. Christy had missed her instantly. Viv had called several times and seemed very optimistic. Christy was truly happy for her, even if she selfishly wished Viv were here so she could dump all her insecurities on her.

  Instead she'd done the next best thing and started pulling double shifts wherever she could. She told herself it was to pay for the renovations she still had planned, but it was really avoidance. She also knew that somewhere deep inside she was testing Trevor. Yet he'd been nothing but understanding and patient with her. Dammit.

  The second shoe had been the night of the accident. She'd gotten off work at four in the morning and her only desire was to get home to bed. Instead she'd been first on scene at a nasty car accident. She'd called it in and jumped out in the pouring lain to see if she could help. Paramedics had arrived as she was performing CPR on an older man who'd been banged up pretty badly. They t
ook over, but the old man kept calling for someone named George.

  Christy was afraid there had been another person in the car with him, but if there had been, he wasn't in the car now. So she'd gone to look for George. After twenty minutes she'd finally given up. The accident victims had been transported, she'd talked to the officers on the scene and been given permission to go.

  She'd headed back to her car … and found George. All one hundred and fifty soaking, filthy, slobbery pounds of him. Part Saint Bernard, part God-knew-what, he'd been happily waiting for her in the driver seat of her car. In her haste to get to the victims, she'd left the door open and George had apparently taken that as an open invitation. He hadn't spent all his time in the driver's seat, either, as the entire inside of her car was covered in splatters of mud, grit, water and … well, she shuddered to think of what else was there.

  She had no idea what to do with him. The fireman and police on scene offered to transport him to the pound, but Christy couldn't bring herself to do that to him. Besides, she couldn't get him to leave her car. She decided to keep him—for one night—until she could talk to the old man when she went on shift and find out where he wanted him to stay.

  As it happened, the old man didn't make it. His final request was for Christy to give the dog a good home. A dying wish the old man's lawyer was more than willing to agree to, as there were no living relatives who wanted the beast Trevor had stepped in and offered to take George. Kind and understanding Trevor. It had been love at first slobber for the two of them. Trevor had always wanted a dog, but his lifestyle, both as a child and as an adult, had precluded having one. He'd already built the dog a huge play yard, house and whatnot at his training compound, but that still meant George came home with him at night. Home being, for the most part, Christy's place.

  The third shoe had dropped when Christy had arisen three mornings ago to the sounds of banging and cursing emanating from her downstairs bathroom. She'd stumbled down the stairs to find an old guy named Jimmy busily ripping out her toilet and bathroom sink. Helpful, thoughtful, Trevor had struck again. This time with porcelain fixtures.

  But all of that paled to this morning. The final shoe had just whapped her upside the head like an army boot. She'd been all cuddled in Trevor's very warm, all-too-perfect arms, happy to have a day off. So happy, in fact, she was even ignoring George's snoring, bed-hogging presence. Jimmy wasn't due over until later that day to start ripping out the upstairs bathroom. She had to admit he'd done a wonderful job on the downstairs and that Trevor had found the perfect fixtures at a really good price.

  Right at that moment, she was willing to admit that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to work out and that, in fact, life could be this disgustingly perfect.

  She should have known better than to drop her guard, even for a second.

  "Yoo-hoo!"

  Christy sat bolt upright. Only one voice could wake her up better than a dozen alarm clocks. "Oh. My. God."

  Trevor mumbled something and tried to pull her back down. George snorted, snuffled and rooted around with his nose, never opening his eyes. Christy, however, remained stubbornly upright, more awake than she had any right to be on her day off.

  "You up there, sweetie? The hospital said it was your day off, so I thought I'd surprise you."

  Oh, it's a surprise all right. Christy didn't have time to answer, much less grab clothes. The best she could do was yank the covers from under George to preserve whatever little modesty might be left to her before—

  "Oh, my!"

  Christy sighed. "Hi, Mom."

  "What a nice surprise," Trevor offered from behind her.

  Christy shot a look at him. He'd propped himself up on one elbow behind her, as casual and relaxed as if he were meeting Ruby Russell at a trendy restaurant … rather than while naked in her daughter's bed.

  Ruby smiled, never one to be taken aback for long. "Why yes, this certainly is. I don't believe we've had the pleasure." She cast a long look at Christy. "You never even mentioned you had a new beau."

  Trevor's brows lifted. "You didn't tell your mother about us?"

  "Well, I—"

  "How long have you two known each other?" Ruby asked.

  "Not one word about me?"

  Christy looked from her mother to Trevor, clutching the sheet to her chest. George roused his head and stared at her accusingly, too. Oh, great. Even the dog wouldn't come to her defense. "I saved your life, you know," she reminded him, to no good effect.

  Her mother and Trevor began talking at the same time, George started barking at the excitement until Christy finally cut them all off with a sharp whistle. "Okay!"

  Her mother's perfectly lined mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. George plopped his head down in her lap, almost yanking the sheet from her grasp. Trevor simply stared at her, patiently waiting. Perfectly patient, that was Trevor.

  Well, she wasn't perfect at much of anything, most especially at being found in bed—naked and not alone—by her own mother. She shoved at the dog's head, glaring at Trevor, who was grinning now. "This is not remotely amusing." She turned to her mother, ignoring the fact that Trevor's grin hadn't faded one twitch. "Mom, if you don't mind waiting downstairs, we'll meet you down there momentarily."

  George chose that moment to drag his huge body off the bed and trot over to Ruby who, to Christy's shock, patted his head, then turned and motioned the huge beast toward the stairs. "Come on, handsome. You can help me make some coffee while we let the two lovebirds get dressed."

  Christy was still staring, openmouthed as they went down the stairs together.

  "Your mother seemed to handle that pretty well. She seems nice enough."

  Christy just glared at him. "Oh, my mother is a perfect angel. When she wants to be."

  "I take it she doesn't usually like dogs."

  Christy shook her head. "Dog hair and slobber don't go well with couture and diamonds, don't you know?"

  "She does know how to dress," he said with the same frank male appreciation Christy had heard countless times.

  "I know what you're thinking," she said. "Where did I hatch from, right?" Ruby Russell was a trim five foot two, with curves in all the right places, hair as richly colored as her name and a face that belonged to a woman at least a decade and a half younger than her sixty-two years. "I take after my dad, obviously. They were your typical peasant-meets-royalty romance. My mother being the royalty."

  Trevor tugged her back down on the bed and rolled on top of her, cutting off her squealed protest with a devastating kiss. "I think you got the best of both," he said when he finally let her up for air.

  Before she could respond, he was off the bed and snatching up his clothes. "If you'd like some time with her alone, I can go for a run, take a long shower, whatever."

  Christy made a face at him.

  He laughed. "What was that for?"

  "Tell me the truth. You're really an android or something, right? Built to be the perfect man, always knowing the right thing to say, the right thing to do, never losing his temper."

  Trevor's eyes lit up and she waited for the perfect bantering response, but he must have seen something in her eyes. He even knew when to tease her and when not to. Would this perfection never end?

  He sat on the side of the bed. "I'm hardly perfect."

  "Seem that way to me."

  "Why is it I don't think you meant that as a compliment?"

  "Because you're sharp and in tune to my every mood?"

  He just looked at her. "Is that why you didn't tell your mother about me? Because I'm too sharp and in tune to your every mood? What's really going on here?"

  She tried to figure out how to put it into words. "We never fight."

  He gaped at her. "What? And that's a bad thing?"

  "It's not … normal. You're always so damned understanding. I swear I could work a million shifts in a row and you'd just be waiting here to rub my feet when I got home. It's enough to make me crazy, Trevor!"

 
; "Okay, then. No more foot rubs." He grinned. "Unless you beg me."

  She flopped back on the bed. "See? That's just what I mean. I can't even work up a good mad against you. You always charm me right out of it." He surprised her by flipping himself fully onto the bed and on top of her, pinning her arms and legs neatly in the process. "You make me happy, Christy. You make me want to make you happy. Don't you understand? I love you."

  "Yeah, well, I don't care what you— What did you just say?"

  He wasn't grinning now. In fact, his face was as serious as she'd ever seen it. "I said I love you." He dropped a heartbreakingly gentle kiss on her lips. "I've only wanted to say it a million times, but I didn't want you to push me completely away."

  "But—"

  "I'm not stupid. I know that this whole relationship has got you scared. It should scare me, too. But it doesn't. You're everything I've ever wanted, Christy. I feel like I've known you all of my life. Maybe more than one lifetime. I don't know, I can't explain it. Even when you're grumpy, maybe especially then, I just want to hold you, touch you, love you. I can't help it. And I don't want to. It's not an act, or a game. I'm sure we'll find something we disagree on enough to lose our tempers. Probably more times than we'll be able to keep count." A smile played around his mouth. "I'm just as sure making up will be almost worth the fight." He leaned down and brushed his lips over her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her mouth. "But I'm in this for the duration. For as long as you'll have me. And I want you to have me for a very, very long time."

  He waited, but she was stunned speechless.

  "Well, that's reassuring," he said finally, the tiniest bit of temper in his voice. "But you might as well get used to it. I love you, Christy Russell." He kissed her then, hard and fast, almost angry.

  It shouldn't have turned her on. But it did. Almost more than his declaration of love and commitment.

  She was still clambering for something to say when he abruptly climbed off of her. He looked angry, which made no sense since he'd just told her he loved her. Now he loses his cool?