"He wants me,” Marco stated tonelessly.
"You?” Carly looked from the driver and back to Marco, an unspoken question in her eyes.
"Si, he is my driver."
"But you ride a bike. That rattle trap Moto Guzzi or whatever it's called."
"I do. For a hobby, to relax and unwind."
"What are you talking about? This doesn't make any sense. You wear black leather."
Marco couldn't hold back a smile. “You judge a book by its cover, isn't that what they say in English? I ride a bike. I wear leathers.” He shrugged. “The car is also mine."
"It is?"
Marco watched Carly with the intensity of a hawk.
"Don't,” she demanded.
"Don't what?"
"Look at me like that. You make me feel as if you're dissecting me."
"I'm sorry, but it's very difficult not to admire a beautiful woman."
"Enough, Marco. Forget it. The car? What about it? Another lie?"
"No, cara. The truth. I'm a wealthy man.” Then without another word, he spun on his heels, and headed for the limousine.
* * * *
"Where are you going?"
Half in the car, Marco halted and faced her. Once again the mask was back in place. Carly's fingers itched to slap it right off.
"I have a meeting. You have your car?"
She nodded, then felt panic at the thought of him walking out of her life. “Wait! So, um, this is it then?"
Marco shrugged. “That's life, cara. We've had our fun."
Anger at his callous and casual attitude made her voice sharper than she intended. “How dare you!"
"Oh, but I do dare, Carly Mason."
"Don't use that come hither bedroom voice of yours.” But if she thought she could deflect him, she was mistaken as his gaze traveled in a slow and deliberate fashion, raking her from head to foot, stripping her naked in broad daylight.
"You got what you wanted. You didn't want me when you thought me penniless, now you ask me to wait, cara, when you see me differently?” he derided. “Forget it. I'm not for sale."
"And I'm not buying,” she shot back, standing her ground as prickles of sweat beaded between her breasts. She stared directly at him. She wouldn't look away, wouldn't kowtow to this man. “I didn't ask for a liar or a cheat, Mr. Valente. My father was one of those. I don't need another in my life."
Marco's tongue made a clicking sound, the corners of his mouth turning downwards, lips in a thin sneer. “So, our deal is done. You got your four days of play."
For a moment silence hung between them and Carly struggled, and failed, to douse the longing she felt for him, or find a suitable response.
Marco burst into a deep-throated laugh. “I see."
"What's so funny?” she bristled.
"Now you see I am not just a poor motorcyclist, you want marriage. You think to tempt me. The temptation is strong cara,” he said, letting his gaze linger on her, “but not for marriage."
Carly's jaw dropped. “Marriage to you? You must be joking.” How wrong could he be? Money wasn't her elixir, but lust was. Marco Valente was.
It's only dinner, Mason. How difficult is that?
"I...” She wanted to tell him to wait, to explain. She never got the chance.
"Si. It's a joke,” he agreed interrupting her silent internal argument. “Marriage is definitely not on offer."
Thank God, she had said nothing. Hadn't pleaded. Carly crossed her arms across her chest as tangled fingers of humiliation clawed at her heart and soul. She lifted her chin and gave Marco what she hoped was a chilling stare. “Good, because I'm not interested. Marriage to you Mr. Valente would be hell on earth and hell is not on my To Do list."
* * * *
Marco watched as she turned and stormed off across the tarmac, his earlier feeling of triumph replaced by despair at the thought of never seeing her again.
* * * *
How Carly arrived home was quite beyond her. The journey was a blur and the moment she opened the door to her apartment she dropped her bag where she stood.
Working on automatic pilot, she filled the kettle with water and plugged it in. Coffee, strong, hot and black was in order.
Just like Marco's.
Cruel. Don't think about him.
But as stinging tears began, unhinging her for a second time, there was no way on earth she could stop them. She sniffed, walked to the bathroom for a box of tissues and blew her nose loudly. What she wanted was comfort food. Chocolate—and lots of it.
Falling onto the sofa, Carly huddled under the aubergine velvet throw. It may have been eighty-five degrees outside, but she was frozen to the core, dead cold and miserable as hell. The whistle on the kettle blew and thankfully switched itself off. She couldn't be bothered, didn't care, and couldn't move. She didn't want to do anything.
But wallow in self-pity.
So? Isn't a girl allowed to wallow if she wants?
And she certainly wanted to.
What a fool she'd been. She snatched a fifth tissue and wiped away the ceaseless tears just as the phone rang.
Damn.
She wanted to ignore it. She tried, but her conscience got the better of her. Maybe it was Marco. Maybe he was going to apologize.
Don't be stupid; he doesn't even have your phone number. Or you, his.
Carly grabbed the phone. “Hello."
"Carly, is that you? You sound sick."
"Hi Maxine. I'm not, just um a bit tired, that's all."
"Tired?” Maxine giggled. “Sounds like our plan worked."
Confused, Carly could barely answer, she just wanted to go away and hide, not talk to dear, faithful Maxine.
"Did Mr. Invisible give you a good time then? Your hunk had the rest of us jealous."
"He did?"
"Sure. Who wouldn't be? Dark, sexy as can be, and devoted to you."
"Yeah devoted,” Carly parroted.
"You don't seem so sure, honey. What's wrong?"
Carly bit her lip. “Oh, Maxine,” she wailed, unable to halt the torrent of tears once more.
"What's up? Didn't he come? You weren't alone for all the four days were you?” Maxine gasped. “Oh God, Carly I'm sorry. The thought horrifies me."
"I wish."
"Why? Surely it can't have been that bad."
Carly hesitated. What was she going to say? The man was invisible because he didn't exist. That he was a heavenly hunk, but a liar, and oh so sexy and loving and passionate and stirred her senses until they were so hot they ignited. That she loved him and he didn't want to know.
"Come on Carly, you can tell Auntie Maxie. What's up?"
"It's over."
"Over? As in finito, kaput, over and out?"
Carly nodded, then whispered. “Yes."
Her friend was clearly speechless and she decided now was as good a time as any to end this call. “Maxine, I'm not up to long explanations right now."
"Perhaps later?” Maxine offered.
Carly grimaced. Maxine was like a dog with a bone. She wouldn't give up on a good bit of gossip. She'd want the ins and outs and all the gory details.
"Maybe,” she agreed, but knew there was no way on earth she would recite the whole messy saga to anyone. Never. Ever. She said her good byes and hung up.
"What a fool. Really dumb,” Carly groaned out loud. Why had she allowed herself to become so entangled in make believe. She'd been sucked into four days with her mysterious Mr. Cupid and had stupidly fallen totally and irretrievably in love with him.
Romeo had conquered Juliet.
"Not fair!” Carly wailed and erupted in another torrent of tears. It wasn't meant to happen. She didn't want it to, never had. Kids and marriage weren't in her plans.
They weren't part of Marco's plan either.
Carly grimaced. Not only had she made a fool of herself, Marco had thought she wanted the whole marriage works and had laughed his head off.
Her lips trembled and she gnawed at her swol
len bottom lip. She felt so confused. One part of her wanted to admit her love to the heavens, while her most normal, self-controlled, goal-setting self denied it.
But she loved the heavenly hunk.
Okay so she'd only known him four days and really knew nothing about him, but what the heck, her body and heart told her differently. Who was she to disobey their commands?
She'd been there, done that with kids, albeit playing mummy to her siblings and mothering her mother when she had staggered through her own brand of ineptitude. They were years Carly tried to forget and had put her off marriage and babies and unreliable husbands for life.
But what about your plans, Mason?
Carly sniffed and pulled the last tissue from the box, eying the overflowing rubbish bin.
Nope. She was better without a man. She would get on with life without any interruptions from heavenly hunks of any kind and especially not from one willing to play cupid on a whim.
As her eyes fluttered and her breathing steadied she reminded herself of her newest rule in her life. “If there is one thing I'll never, ever do again,” she whispered as her voice slurred with sleep. “I'll never invent a mystery man. No more hunks for this gal."
Chapter 8
Three Months Later
A choking thick bile rose in Carly's throat making her gag. She shot out of bed, ignoring the chill of the early morn and raced for the bathroom. A fleeting glance at her reflection in the mirror shocked her, but she didn't wait, she couldn't. Rocked with nausea she bent over the toilet bowl and vomited for the second time in as many days, surrendering to each new wave without any option.
Finally, as the nauseous surge waned she stood up, brushing aside the tangled mass of her hair. Her pallor was as bleak as a piece of paper. She ran the cold water, splashed her face and cleaned her teeth to get rid of the acidic taste in her mouth. Her hand fell to her stomach and she rubbed it repeatedly in small circles, an oddly comforting gesture.
Back in her bedroom, Carly glanced at the clock. Nearly seven, it was time get to the office to arrange the final plan for the big presentation. Damn her nervous stomach, she didn't need that acting up again right now. The contract for hotels was almost in the bag.
A tangible thrust of determination shot through her. She wanted the contract with a vengeance. It would put her business on the road map once and for all.
After a quick shower she dressed in a navy suit with a coral polo underneath. It gave the suit a slight edge, something that said a bit more than ‘office'. With matching shoes and her trademark gold bracelets and hoop earrings in place she eyed herself in the mirror.
The summer sun's highlights in her hair were almost gone, as was summer. Autumn had arrived on the doorstep.
"Summer.” The word rolled silently off the tip of Carly's tongue. Summer meant sand and surf. Summer was Marco. Summer would always be tinged with memories of Marco and their time in paradise.
But summer was over. So was Marco. Over before it began. Suddenly, an ice-cold fear sprinted through Carly's veins and her hand stilled mid-air, her hairbrush clattering to her floor.
"Forget it. Forget him,” she spoke aloud. But she couldn't. Sinking down onto her bed, she wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. She was trying to forget him, but it was always the same. Every time she saw her reflection in the mirror she would remember the words of love Marco had whispered as he caressed her.
Get over it.
Snapping out of her daze, Carly picked up the hairbrush. She needed to go to work. Work solved everything.
* * * *
"Tansy, have you got those samples of brocade and velvet we ordered?” Carly called the moment she entered the office.
Tansy Butler was a sweet, willing-to-do-anything-and-everything assistant who Carly couldn't manage without.
Dropping the folder onto her desk, she turned to Tansy who raced in with the samples. Her eyes lit up as she took hold of them, fingers grazing the textured brocade and the silky smooth pile of the opulent velvets. “These are perfect,” she smiled.
The young woman nodded. “They're the best quality. Exactly what the hotel chain wants. Drop dead luxurious."
Carly laughed, patting the fabrics. “If this doesn't send them our way, nothing will."
"Your designs are top notch. They won't want anyone else."
Carly wanted to agree, but forced herself to stem her excitement. “Let's just wait."
"Carly Mason you are far too reserved."
"No, not reserved, Tansy. Designers can't afford to be reserved. Call me cautious. You know the saying about eggs and baskets. Well, I'm just not counting those eggs quite yet."
"Wait until tomorrow when they sign on the dotted line, then you can shout from the roof tops."
"Perhaps not the roof tops,” Carly chuckled, “but it will be nice to celebrate."
Just then, another bout of nausea washed over her and her vision went suddenly murky. She felt raging hot, but the next second was icy cold. A damp beading of sweat broke out on her forehead and her mouth went dry. The samples slid from her hands and fell to the floor.
"Are you okay?"
Carly sunk into her chair. “I'm not sure. I..."
"Here.” Tansy quickly poured her a glass of water from the jug on her desk and handed it to her. Her pulse raced at a furious beat and everything went topsy-turvy. She closed her eyes and sucked in a steadying gulp of air, aware of a concerned Tansy hovering nearby.
"I think you should go to the doctor."
"No! There's too much to do. Not enough time.” Carly struggled to sit up, but Tansy's hand remained firmly on her shoulder and kept her sitting down.
"Listen, Carly. You've done too much, for too long. Time to back up a bit. These past three months you've worked like a demon. You need a life."
"I can't. The presentation is tomorrow."
"Except for the samples to be posted to the color boards, the presentation is complete."
Carly concentrated on breathing, wishing the roaring reverberating in her ears would stop. The phone rang, but Tansy beat her to it, answering it quickly and decisively. In the background she could hear the muted conversation, but it was all too much for her and she closed her eyes again and tried to block out her ongoing queasiness.
"Right that's all settled."
Carly's eyes flickered open. Tansy stood in front of her, a satisfied grin on the young woman's face.
"What have you done Tansy? I'm not sure I like that look.” She tried to smile, but it was too hard and took too much energy.
"A doctor's appointment. I've ordered a taxi. It'll be here in a couple of minutes."
"Taxi. Doctor. I don't need either. I can drive."
"Sure you can, then you sick up just as you turn a corner. Not a good idea. It's all taken care of."
Grateful someone else was taking charge, Carly sank back into her seat. “I'm not going to drop dead you know."
"Time you looked after yourself."
"You say it as if it's a big problem."
Tansy merely gave her a knowing smile which caused Carly to wonder if the young woman knew something she didn't know. But then again, it was all too much and she closed her eyes while she waited for the taxi.
* * * *
Dr Maria Purvis indicated the cubicle. “You can get dressed again."
Carly took a quick glance at her doctor. What was wrong? Measles? Mumps? Chickenpox? She mentally ticked them off as she re-entered the surgery.
"Sit down please."
Rigid with nerves, Carly clutched her purse to her chest. Fear prickled down her spine, a viscous anxiety gnawing low in her belly.
"Congratulations, Ms. Mason, you're pregnant."
Carly's jaw dropped, but no sound came out. The seconds ticked by, and still nothing.
"I'd say about three months to be exact,” the doctor informed her.
"I can't be,” Carly exploded in a whoosh of air and the roar in her ears started up again. Thunderous this time, but it co
uldn't blank out one word.
Pregnant.
The doctor's brow rose and her lips twitched with mirth.
Carly snapped her mouth closed.
"Not quite impossible I'd say. The tests,” she said referring to the paperwork on her desk, “are conclusive."
"Absolute you mean?"
"Yes."
Dazed, Carly slumped back in the chair.
Pregnant. She was pregnant.
"Due about October. We'll need some other tests."
"October,” Carly repeated, dazed.
Marco.
A baby.
Marco's baby.
Their baby.
Her gaze lowered to her still flat abdomen and she rested a hand protectively against the soft rise and fall of her stomach. She was carrying a child. A boy or girl? A burst of laughter rippled from her lips and a broad smile lit her face. She looked back up at the doctor.
"You're pleased?"
"It's a bit of a shock, but I think so."
"And the father?"
"The father...” What about the father? What about Marco? Would he want to know? She didn't even know where he was, so how could she tell him? Her head shook with all the questions that whirred in her brain. “There is no father.” Carly reddened. “Well not around, if you know what I mean."
"Don't worry, it'll work out. The receptionist will book your scan and check ups."
Overwhelmed with information, Carly nodded and left, but didn't make the appointments.
Later.
She'd sort it out later.
It would be all right the doctor said.
Would it? She had to believe that.
* * * *
Where work had been her savior in the past, now she couldn't concentrate one iota as the afternoon ticked by in a blur.
Pregnant.
Even mouthing the word nearly choked her. It wasn't that she didn't like babies. She loved them. Other people's that is. She just hadn't envisioned babies for herself. Taking charge of her sisters and their subsequent broods had been enough babies for a lifetime. She wanted more out of life and had set her heart on building her business.
Now this.
A baby.
What about the presentation?
The thought of chucking up mid-way through was not an option and she couldn't let Tansy do it. CV Hotels were expecting Mason Designs, and specifically its owner.
Hiring Cupid Page 10