Circle of Friends Complete Collection

by Susan Mallery

  He nodded slowly. “My sisters talk like that, too. Is it a chick thing?”

  “Yes. Most of us are born with the ability to coordinate fabric.”

  He rubbed the cloth. “It’s nice. I like it better than white.”

  “It’s a miracle.”

  “Carter?”

  The woman’s voice came from behind them. Rachel turned and saw a pretty, petite redhead holding a bolt of fabric.

  “Hi, Nora,” Carter said. “How are you?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. Rachel, this is Nora.”

  The other woman nodded. “Hi. Nice to meet you. So you’re with Carter now, huh? We used to go out.” The hunger in her expression said she would like to again. “You look...great.”

  “You, too,” he said as he gently put his hand on Rachel’s shoulder.

  Rachel felt both awkward and uncomfortable. Should she excuse herself so Carter and Nora could speak in private? Good manners dictated that she at least offer, but she couldn’t seem to form the words or make her feet move.

  Nora cleared her throat. “I thought maybe, you know, sometime we could go out for coffee.”

  “Thanks, but this isn’t a good time for me. You take care, Nora.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Well, bye.”

  She shuffled off.

  Carter watched her go, then shook his head. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine. I take it you two had a bad breakup?”

  “Yeah. Usually I can stay friends, but Nora wanted marriage or nothing.”

  “You weren’t interested in her that way?”

  Carter looked at her. “I’m not interested in anyone that way. All my life I’ve been told I’ll meet someone, fall in love and get married. So far, it hasn’t happened. I love women—all women. I don’t cheat, I’m more interested in quality than volume, but forever? Not my style. I don’t need to grow old with anyone.”

  As he spoke his expression tightened.

  “What?” she asked. “Do you expect me to get mad?”

  He shrugged. “I’m braced for the criticism. Most women don’t appreciate my position.”

  “I do,” she told him and meant it. “Why marry someone you don’t love?” She drew in a breath. “That’s what happened to me with my two engagements. I thought I loved the guys, but as time passed, I realized I didn’t. I started to feel trapped. Neither of them understood.”

  He relaxed a little. “So what do you think of marriage?”

  She thought of what she remembered of her parents’ relationship. “I think with the right person, it can be the best part of anyone’s life. I want that, but only when it’s right. And it needs to be for the right reasons.”

  “I won’t ever want to get married.”

  She smiled. “I’m okay with that, Carter. I don’t plan to be one of your groupies.”

  “I don’t have groupies.”

  “Oh, you’re wrong, but that’s okay. I can totally respect not wanting to make a commitment to someone you don’t love. What I don’t understand is not making a commitment to one of these beautiful paints. Now that would break my heart.”

  He grinned. “Fine. I’ll put the damn paint on the damn wall and pick one.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll make valances.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Actually, I’m pretty good with my old, trusty sewing machine. I learned while I was still dancing. Costumes cost too much to buy. None of my foster families could afford it, so I learned to sew.”

  “I don’t mean that. I’ll owe you.”

  “And that’s bad why?”

  “I don’t know how to pay you back.”

  Images of them naked and touching and joining instantly filled her brain. Okay, she could give him a list of ways to pay her back, starting with a few long, slow, deep kisses, followed by some serious naked time.

  Without meaning to, she remembered how his hands had felt on her body. How he touched her with an irresistible combination of aggressive tenderness that had left her weak and hungry for more. He could...

  “Earth to Rachel.”

  “What? Oh.” She blinked at him. “Sorry. What was the question?”

  “If you’re going to do this for me, I want to do something for you. What do you need? Heavy furniture moved? A tree planted in your honor?”

  She laughed. “Nothing like that. But I do have the fall festival coming up at school. Each class has to build a booth. Now that I’ve seen your handiwork, I think maybe you’re the right one to take on the job of being in charge.”

  “Done.”

  “Are you sure? We’re talking about ten five-year-olds and some fairly inept parents.”

  “I like kids, and parents find me very charming.”

  “Especially the moms.”

  He flashed her a smile. “Especially.”

  * * *

  CARTER TUCKED HIS too-long hair under a baseball cap and then turned up the collar of his jacket. The truck stop diner was several miles north of Riverside on I-15. As this was the main drag to Las Vegas, there were plenty of people coming and going. A good place for a private meeting.

  He’d already seen his captain’s car in the parking lot, so he walked in and looked for the table.

  Captain Don Killian was known for protecting his men, so Carter wasn’t surprised to see the older man at a booth in the back. Carter slid in across from him and realized a large pole would conceal him from view.

  “Nicely done,” he said with a grin.

  Killian shrugged. “I had to wait for an old couple to clear out, but I figured this was the best seat in the house. How’s it going, Carter?”

  “Good.”

  The waitress appeared. Both men ordered burgers and sodas. When she left, Carter leaned forward.

  “There’s going to be a big shipment out next week. I’ve got a copy of the parts inventory heading out. The drop is in Chicago, and from there it goes all across the country.”

  Carter was part of a team investigating counterfeit auto parts brought in from other countries.

  While Carter went over the details, Killian wrote down the information.

  “We can intercept this,” his captain said. “I’ll talk to the Feds on the case, but the current plan is we’ll make it look like a highway accident so no one gets suspicious. We’re thinking maybe four or five more weeks on the job. You okay with that?”

  The waitress arrived with their drinks. Carter waited until she’d left before saying, “Sure. I’m good. No one suspects anything.”

  “They will if you keep hanging out at the Blue Dog Bar.”

  Carter grimaced. “That wasn’t my idea. My contact insisted. He thought it would make me nervous to be around so many cops. It did, but not in the way he thought.”

  “You calling ahead helped,” Killian told him. “Jenny put out the word. She’s a great girl. Too bad you let that one get away.”

  “She wasn’t for me.” Jenny had been great, but he’d let her go as easily as everyone else. Most of the time he was fine with his life and appreciated the women he’d dated and then walked away from, but sometimes he wondered if there was something wrong with him...a reason he couldn’t settle down like everyone else.

  “Just as well,” his boss said. “With this assignment, you don’t need the added pressure of being involved. But when it’s over, what next?”

  Carter looked at him. “What do you mean? I take the next job.”

  “Another undercover assignment? Come on, Carter. You passed the tests, you’re ready to move up to detective. So what’s stopping you? Why do you always turn down the job?”

  “I turned down one.”

  “Most gu
ys would jump at the chance to make detective.”

  Carter shrugged. “I’ll get there.”

  “Why take the test if you’re not interested?”

  “I am interested.” If the man talking had been anyone but his boss, Carter would have told him to back off.

  “Then act like it. Take the next opening. You can’t play forever. Maybe it’s time to grow up.”

  Carter glared at Killian. “What I do is damned important. I make a difference.”

  “You could make a bigger difference as detective. You know it and I know it. So what’s holding you back?”

  * * *

  SATURDAY MORNING STARTED with complete chaos. Ten five-year-olds running through the open classroom, their parents talking in groups and Rachel sorting through supplies left in the small yard off her classroom.

  She knew nothing about lumber or tools, so she wasn’t sure if she had everything she was supposed to have. While she could figure out which wood was which from the size, she wasn’t sure if she had the right braces or not.

  “Need some help?” Carter asked as he stepped out into the yard.

  “Desperately,” she said and held out her list. “Do I have all this? I’ve never made a booth before and to be honest, I have no big plans to make one now. That’s why you and the parents are here. Well, some of you will help me with the card kits, but that’s the easy part. It’s mostly sorting and counting.”

  She was aware she was talking too much, which frequently happened the first time she saw Carter after any kind of absence. She wanted to explain that, technically, it wasn’t her fault. There was something about looking at him that unhinged her brain. Something that made her remember what it was like to touch him and kiss him and...

  He moved close and smiled at her. “You about wound down?”

  If she said no, would he stop her talking in the most interesting way possible?

  “Pretty much. The kindergarteners have never had to have a booth before. I was very comfortable in that position. Suddenly, someone decided we were capable, or at least the parents were. I know nothing about building. Can you take charge of this and coordinate the work? In theory, the build should take no more than two hours.”

  “I’ve built cabinets. I can handle a festival booth.” He glanced over the instructions. “It’ll be fun. Are the kids supposed to help?”

  “If they want. I’m going to have some of them with me, putting together our card kits.”

  “Which are?”

  “Greeting cards. Some are preprinted and some can be made by hand with decorations and trims.”

  He took a step back. “Don’t make me do that.”

  She grinned. “I promise. You can stay out here and be macho with the wood and paint.”

  “Perfect.”

  He smiled at her and she felt her insides shimmy a little. Despite her urge to throw herself at him, she drew in a deep breath and walked toward the classroom. “Let’s go gather the troops and divide into teams.”

  Back in the classroom, Rachel explained their two projects and let the parents and kids divide up themselves. She felt someone tugging on the hem of her T-shirt and turned.

  “Morning, Christian,” she said to the small boy. “Are you excited to help build the booth?”

  Christian nodded. “Is he your boyfriend?” he asked, pointing at Carter.

  Rachel’s mind went blank. Under the circumstances it was a reasonable question and one she should have expected. “Ah, well, to be honest...”

  “Yes,” Carter said easily.

  Christian giggled. “Are you gonna kiss her?”

  “Maybe later. If she’s very good.”

  A couple of the mothers exchanged glances as if they wouldn’t mind being rewarded by Carter for excellent behavior.

  “Okay, then,” Rachel said, ignoring the heat on her cheeks. “Let’s get started.”

  Carter led the construction crew outside while she put the card kit folks to work in the classroom. She had set up several stations for the kids, showing how many of each items went in to the various bags. White cardboard signs showed five buttons inside a bag at one station and three bows in another bag at a different station.

  Soon kids and parents alike were counting greeting cards and filling bags. When she was sure everything was going smoothly, she walked to her desk and pulled out her parent list. There were a few she wanted to talk to today. It was more casual than an official parent-teacher conference.

  “Helen, do you have a second?” Rachel asked a pretty, dark-haired woman who was helping with the bow counting.

  “Sure, Rachel.”

  Rachel let the way into the classroom next door. It was empty and quiet.

  When they were seated on the two adult-sized chairs Rachel had brought in earlier that morning, she leaned forward.

  “I’m a little worried about Anastasia. She’s a wonderful girl. So bright and friendly and she loves learning. But she’s obviously exhausted. She falls asleep during storytime nearly every day.”

  Helen stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean. We put her to bed at nine. That should be enough sleep.”

  “She’s only five. I think an earlier bedtime might help. Does she try to stay up later? Some kids are natural night owls.” Rachel didn’t think that was the problem, but she’d found it was usually more productive to start by getting the parent on her side than to make an outright accusation.

  Helen shook her head. “Anastasia is always ready to go to bed when it’s time. In fact, if we’ve been out after seven, she falls asleep in the car on the way home.”

  “Then I would suggest moving her bedtime back fifteen minutes every four or five days until you find a time that gives her enough sleep. It’s probably going to be about seven-thirty.”

  Helen’s eyes widened. “But that’s not possible. She has her classes.”

  “Hmm, yes. She’s mentioned that she has a lot of activities outside of school. Dance, Spanish, some kind of martial arts.”

  Helen nodded. “Gymnastics, piano, soccer. We have a schedule. Some are in the afternoon, but a few are in the evening. She couldn’t attend them and get to bed earlier.”

  Rachel tried to figure out the most tactful way to make her point. “I think it’s wonderful when caring parents take such an interest in their children. I wish all parents were like you. But sometimes kids get overscheduled. Anastasia needs time to just be a little girl. She needs time to play and dream and imagine as well as learn Spanish.”

  Helen opened her mouth, then closed it. “We have her doing too much, don’t we? I’ve wondered. It’s just both Martin and I have siblings who are gross underachievers. We didn’t want that for Anastasia. We want her to have every advantage, but also to understand that she needs to push herself.”

  “Pushing her now won’t teach her that lesson,” Rachel said gently. “Anastasia is exceptional because of who she is on the inside, not because of what she does. She’s not going to be your little girl for a very long time and that goes so quickly. I would hate for you two to miss these special years because your daughter is never home.”

  “I’ll talk to Martin,” Helen said. “Maybe we can back off on the classes.”

  “Don’t give them up all together,” Rachel said. “It’s good to expose her to a few things. Maybe try a couple this semester and next semester try some different ones. Then you can sit down as a family and figure out what you think is important and she likes to do.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “You’re more than welcome. Anastasia is wonderful. I’m glad she’s in my class.”

  Helen smiled. “I am, too.”

  The other woman left. Rachel made some notes on her file, then glanced up when Carter walked into the room.

  “Impressive,” he said. “I came to
tell you the booth is coming together, but I didn’t want to interrupt. You handled that really well.”

  His praise made her feel a little bit floaty inside. “Thanks. I’m with the kids for several hours a day. Because I’m not the parent, I can usually see both the good and bad that’s happening. Unfortunately, parents tend to get stuck on one or the other.”

  “Helen got the message.”

  Rachel closed her file and stood. “I hope so. I hate seeing these kids dragging because their parents plan for them to be the next Secretary General of the United Nations. But balance is tricky to find.”

  Carter tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “My mom did a great job at it. We were all convinced we were her favorite. She made us believe we could do anything.”

  “My parents were like that, too,” Rachel said, remembering the loving support they’d offered her. “I wanted to be an astronaut/ballerina and no one ever said it was a dumb idea. Of course I was only twelve and no one takes career plans seriously at that age. There was this one time that they—”

  Unexpected tears filled her eyes. Rachel was so surprised, she stopped in midsentence.

  “What’s wrong?” Carter asked.

  “I don’t know.” She blinked several times, but the tears wouldn’t go away. “I was going to say something about my parents, but I know if I do, I’ll burst into tears.”

  “I can handle it.”

  She sniffed and smiled at the same time. “I appreciate you saying that. It’s just I don’t understand. I don’t cry very much, especially not about the loss of my family. It’s been fourteen years. I’m sad they’re gone, but I’ve recovered, emotionally.”

  “Hey, it happens.”

  He drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. She let him because, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she needed the comfort.

  “This is crazy,” she murmured against his shoulder as tears trickled down her cheeks. “I have no reason to cry. This is not like me.”

  “You’re having a baby,” he said.

  She drew back and stared at him. “I hardly think that’s a reason to break down when I talk about my parents. I know the situation is stressful, but speaking as someone who is firmly in denial about the whole thing, I can’t believe that’s why I’m losing it.”