by Cheri Allan
“Then smarten up and make a new plan.”
CARTER STOPPED PACING the moment Liz entered the waiting room. She’d been gone nearly two hours. He’d practically worn a path in the carpet. “How is she? Is she okay?”
“Yeah.” Liz stepped toward him as if dazed, shaking her head, a small, relieved smile tilting the corners of her mouth. “She was just dehydrated. Can you believe it?”
“Dehydrated?”
“I guess too much alcohol and caffeinated coffee and not enough healthy fluids will do that. The doctor thinks the dehydration was triggering mild palpitations and dizzy spells and anxiety made them worse. Trish is taking her home as soon as she’s discharged.” Liz smiled. “I just ran into your grandmother in the hall. She’s headed to the hardware store. It seems she’s convinced a water filter will encourage Aunt Claire to drink more tap water.”
Carter nodded, the relief rolling off his shoulders in waves. Despite their earlier confrontation, he’d hated to see Liz worried. Had felt her concern as if it were his own.
Liz fidgeted with her purse strap and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m sorry to take you away from your work for nothing. I suppose it’s too late for you to get back to your job.”
He didn’t bother to tell her he hadn’t been working. The intermittent rain had been a convenient excuse to spend the morning kicking himself for being so insensitive earlier. He’d acted like a jerk. “It’s okay. I was happy to wait.”
“Thanks.” She glanced at her watch and Carter felt an overwhelming urge to keep her with him. To make it up to her.
“How about an early dinner?” he suggested.
She shook her head. “I don’t feel up to cook—”
“We’ll let someone else do the cooking. You look like you could use a break.”
“I don’t think—”
“Just friends,” he insisted, though why he did he couldn’t say. He didn’t want to be friends with Liz. He wanted to be much more, in fact. “I know just the place.”
Before she could protest again, he was tugging her with him.
LIZ ORDERED AN ICED TEA and slid into the booth as Elvis Presley crooned in the background. Aunt Claire was right. Liz had taken the gossip about town at face value, never giving Carter the benefit of the doubt. And here he’d been nothing but helpful, considerate and charming since she’d set foot back in Sugar Falls. Asking her out to dinner was just another example.
Meanwhile, she’d been no better than all those who’d never seen beyond the successful student to the Liz she was inside. Didn’t she owe Carter more than that? She at least owed him her appreciation. She glanced gratefully across the table. “I want to thank—”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make me out to be some Good Samaritan. I didn’t help today because I’m a good person, Liz. I did it because it was you.”
Liz folded her hands on the table in front of her. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”
“You always gave me more credit than I deserved.”
Perhaps compliments embarrassed him. Liz let the comment slide and tried to relax. The creak of the vinyl seat as she shifted position and the warm scents of coffee and fried food could almost lull a person into believing you could come home again. Almost. But she wasn’t so naïve as to believe in happily-ever-afters even if she did believe Carter deserved the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he wasn’t as wild as everyone made him out to be, but that didn’t really change anything.
She sucked in a bolstering breath and faced him.
“I fly back to Chicago in two days,” she announced.
“To him?”
Liz straightened her napkin. “No.”
“Good.”
She glanced up in surprise. Carter’s eyes were dark as he looked at her, that rare, serious intensity on his face, and she knew she couldn’t pretend indifference anymore. Couldn’t pretend they were just casual friends—or casual lovers even—enjoying a meal. They had shared more than a few nights of pleasant camaraderie. More than physical passion. He deserved to know the truth. And for some reason she couldn’t explain, she needed him to know she was being completely honest with him. “You were right,” she admitted. “About Grant. I called him after you left.”
He didn’t say a word, didn’t ask what he was right about. They both knew what she meant. Liz mumbled a thanks to the waitress for their drinks then picked up her menu. She looked back at Carter. “What?” she prompted, embarrassment flooding her as he continued to stare. “No comment? No I-told-you-so’s?”
“Is that what you want me to say?” he asked. “Would that make it easier to walk away? Go back to Chicago?”
“Walk away? Chicago is my home.”
He grunted and picked up his coffee.
Liz sipped her iced tea and let out a sigh. Maybe agreeing to dinner had been a bad idea. Maybe she should have gone...
“Godammit, Liz!” The utensils chattered on the tabletop as Carter’s fist slammed down on it suddenly. “It doesn’t end here.”
Liz’s eyes skittered toward the other diners. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Don’t you? This. Us.” He gestured back and forth between them. “It doesn’t end here. I won’t let it.”
“I don’t think it’s—”
“It’s not about thinking!” he cut in, reaching across to grip her fingers in his. “You can’t tell me what happened this weekend meant nothing! You can’t sit there all quiet and calm and tell me you felt nothing!”
Her heart hammered in her chest as his fiercely whispered words pounded against her. “What do you want from me?”
“You’re not ‘sort of’ engaged anymore, are you?” he demanded.
“No.”
“Then there’s nothing stopping you from giving us a chance.”
“A chance? You make it sound like—”
“Like we have something good going here? We do. And it’s something worth... exploring.”
“I can’t believe you’re that hard up for sex,” she scoffed.
His eyes glittered, and she felt his fingers flex over her own. “What makes you think this is about sex?”
“Isn’t it?” she countered, slipping her hands out of his, her smile taut as the waitress returned to take their orders. She couldn’t delude herself into believing it was more than that. Not again.
Carter sat back and all but tossed the menus at the waitress. “Two cheeseburgers. Medium. And a large onion rings.”
Liz glared at him as the waitress retreated. “I was going to order a taco salad.”
“Forget the damn food. Now what’s this horse,” he caught himself and lowered his voice, “crap about my wanting you only for sex? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Stupid? I’m sorry. You haven’t exactly been a monk all these years. I figured a zebra doesn’t change his stripes.”
“So you think I’m working this hard just to get laid? ‘Cause let me tell you, I could get laid with a whole lot less hassle if I wanted to.”
“That’s flattering.”
“It should be. I don’t want some easy woman, Liz. I want you.” He shook his head and choked on a laugh as he shoved his hand through his hair. “For some reason I haven’t figured out, I like your company more than other women. I like your lists. I even like your crazy, run-for-the-hills-every-chance-he-can-get cat. Sure, I like the sex, and I hope we can have a whole lot more of it, because I haven’t begun to do to you all I’ve thought about doing to you, but—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—even if we didn’t have sex, I’d still want to spend time with you.”
Liz stared at him, her heart thudding in her breast as she struggled to absorb his words. Fought against her own cynicism to believe them. “You would?”
He reached across and took her hands again. Warmed them. “Yes.”
She couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear her gaze from his as the energy—the need—coursing into her through their entwined fing
ers held her in its grasp. “So what do you want from me?” she breathed.
He shrugged. “Six weeks?”
Liz blinked, trying vainly to control her pulse and scattered thoughts. She pulled her hands back and folded them in her lap. “Six weeks?” she echoed.
Carter smiled, a brilliant, intoxicating light, as he leaned across the table again. “Yeah. Six weeks. If at the end you’re done with me, that’s it. We call it quits. If you’re not—”
“If I’m not?”
“We renegotiate.”
Liz twirled her straw in her tea, stalling for time. “I leave for Chicago in two days.”
“Go back Sunday instead. Give us another weekend together.”
“Even if I could get my flights changed...” She shook her head. “This is crazy. What do you expect to happen in six weeks? I’m not even going to be here most—”
“Just give me a chance is all I’m asking for. Let what’s happening between us happen. Don’t think about the distance or the logistics. No over-thinking. No excuses. Just... enjoy it. ”
She bit her lip and studied him. “What about sex?”
“I’m for it. You?”
She shook her head even as a smile curved her lips, the warm suggestion in his eyes sending electric tingles to her toes—and other places. She doubted she’d ever find equilibrium again. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”
“Then say ‘yes.’”
“I,” she met his gaze and soaked in the promises unspoken there, forgot the humiliation, the rational arguments. Forgot to be jaded. “Fine. Six weeks,” she said.
“Let’s shake on it.”
Liz reached toward him then yelped in surprise as Carter clasped her hand and all but pulled her over the table. “On second thought, let’s seal it with a kiss.”
“I—”
And that was the last rational thought she had as his lips slid over hers, teasing, tempting... until a polite cough intruded on Liz’s consciousness and with her lips still planted on Carter’s, she slid her eyes over to see the waitress who was waiting to deliver their appetizer.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
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“I WONDER IF THEY’VE HAD SEX YET.”
Ruth gave Lydia a quelling look. They’d arrived at Claire’s house soon after Claire returned home from the hospital bearing food and non-alcoholic drinks to celebrate the fact that Claire wasn’t, in fact, dying. At this age, it was always cause to celebrate when one left the hospital on one’s own two feet.
“What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question. I bet they have.”
Ruth pulled the cover off her hastily prepared veggie platter and set to work making chicken salad sandwiches.
Claire sipped the lemonade they’d set in front of her and made a face. “They have. But it’s too soon. Things aren’t going well.”
“Things are going perfectly well,” June disagreed as she set a bakery box on the counter. The smell of chocolate wafted through the kitchen. “I’ve spoken to Kate myself. There’s definitely something brewing there.”
“They’re barely talking,” Ruth said. “Did you see how awkward things were when they left the E.R.? I’d say there’s a definite problem.”
“And I’m saying if he and Liz are having issues it means they mean something to each other. I think things are going swimmingly.”
“I agree with June!” said Lydia as she gathered plates and utensils. “Kate even left town on Jim. Remember that? But that all turned out in the end. Give it time. If the sex is good, they’ll be back together...”
“If the sex is good? Where’d you hear that?” asked Claire. “People have sex all the time without getting married.”
“That’s just everyday sex,” said Lydia, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth. “Over the moon sex is entirely different.”
“How do we know they’re having over the moon sex?” Claire wanted to know.
“I suppose you could ask her,” Ruth said.
“Yes!” said Lydia. “Ask her.”
“Ask her. Right. I’ll just walk up to my grandniece and ask if she’s having over the moon sex with my best friend’s grandson.”
“Or, you could call her, I suppose.”
Claire gave Lydia a look. “And I start this conversation how?”
“Why don’t you ask Trish?” said June. “She’d probably know.”
Claire shook her head. “Listen to us. It’s not fortune telling cards that are bringing these two together, it’s a bunch of meddling old women. I’m not asking anybody anything. Let’s play cards.”
“I didn’t bring any pictures,” Lydia said. “I want to talk about Liz and Carter.”
“Me, too,” said June.
“Me, too,” said Ruth.
Claire sighed. “Fine. But if we’re going to meddle, we need to do it right. We need to plan ahead. Lydia, bring me my calendar from the fridge. Now, if I invite them all to my birthday next month, that will bring them together again in a few weeks. And, Ruth, if you hold your annual Fourth of July barbecue, I can be sure to get Liz back from Chicago. I can always pretend they overlooked something with my heart and she needs to come home while she still can…”
All three of them looked at Claire, aghast.
“What? I could have been dying today! I’m not waiting around for things to work out on their own. Who’s with me?”
Lydia picked up another cherry tomato. “I suppose I did see an adorable vintage teddy come into Second Chances yesterday. If you can get Liz to the shop, I’ll point it out to her…”
“Now, we’re talking,” Claire said. She looked up at June and Ruth expectantly. “Any ideas?”
“Short of locking them in a room together, I’ve got nothing,” said June. She set the cake in the middle of the table.
Lydia set the plates and utensils next to the cake and sighed. “I miss over the moon sex.”
They were all silent a moment.
Claire picked up a knife. “I nearly died tonight. I’m eating dessert first…”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
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THE NEXT MORNING, Liz watched from her bedroom window as Carter’s truck pulled out of the driveway. She caught herself humming a chipper tune, turned and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Her hair was softly tousled, her eyes bright, her skin luminescent. She looked thoroughly kissed, thoroughly pleased with herself—and thoroughly self-delusional.
Wasn’t it pure and utter folly to become romantically involved with Carter McIntyre? Reality would come crashing into her idyllic dream-world sooner or later like it always did. Six weeks? What would that prove? That she was more infatuated with him than ever?
Liz let out a shaky breath and hugged her bathrobe around her more tightly. Infatuated, hell. She was solidly, undeniably in love with the man. She could try to rationalize it every which way but Sunday, but the truth was she was head over heels. And, worse than the puppy-love of her youth, the feelings she had for him now were far more intense—and far more dangerous to her heart.
Liz impatiently yanked on a T-shirt and sweats, shoved a brush through her tangled hair and stalked to the kitchen where she cracked the slider open a bit to get fresh, head-clearing morning air to her brain.
She was smarter than this. And yet, here she’d gone from being a sucker for Grant—and nearly ruining her career in the bargain—to falling into bed with a man notorious for being irresponsible.
What was she thinking?
Liz snapped the coffee filter into place and punched the ‘on’ button. She couldn’t get side-tracked. Last night she’d been weak, distracted by all that had gone on with Aunt Claire. She’d been emotionally vulnerable, that’s all. And Carter had been so...
Enough. That was yesterday. And, er, this morning. Today was different. Today she would get back on track.
Sure, he was gorgeous. There was no denying that. And attentive. Entertaining. Generous. But, he was flawed, too.
Irreverent. Habitually tardy. Perhaps not enough to have him hanged, but surely enough to give her second thoughts.
She’d simply have some coffee, put her attention back on her to-do list and put fanciful notions of a long-term relationship with Carter McIntyre on the shelf where they belonged.
Liz stared down at the legal pad on her kitchen table and tried to concentrate.
It read: Clean House.
Exactly, she told herself, straightening purposefully in her chair. She needed to clean house. Sure, she needed to scrub walls and floors, the oven and sinks, but, more importantly, she needed to take stock of where she was and what she was doing. Like Aunt Claire said, she needed to make a new plan.
What, for instance, had made her so ridiculously susceptible to believing Grant wanted more than he did? Was she that short on prospects she needed to lunge for the first eligible bachelor to show an interest? Was she going to be forever haunted by the dreamy memory of a stolen kiss, forever measuring every man to that impossible yardstick?
Or, was something more at work?
“Work,” she mumbled as she stared off into the distance, her to-do list forgotten. It surprised her to realize she missed being at work about as much as she missed Grant. Which was to say—not much at all. Both represented security, responsibility, a sense of what she was supposed to do with her life. Somehow though, at work and with Grant, she’d fallen into a routine that felt safe, sensible, predictable...
Perhaps that was what made Carter so unaccountably appealing. She never knew what to expect—like being blindfolded.
“But that doesn’t make them wrong and him right,” she murmured aloud.
“Who wrong and who right?” asked a voice from the patio.
Liz jumped, a hand plastered to her chest. “Valerie? You scared the heck out of me! What are you doing back there?”
Valerie lifted a camera into view. “I didn’t see any cars in the drive, so I thought I’d stop and take some photos for the listing. I didn’t realize you were home until I heard you talking to yourself.”
“I wasn’t talking to my—” Liz started to protest, except that’s exactly what she’d been doing. She grabbed a mug from the cupboard. “Well, carry on. As you can see, I’m just getting coffee.”