“How much do you remember?”
Too much and yet not enough. “I can’t tell. Everything was spinning. No, I don’t remember much.”
“You were pretty sick and out of it. So, here’s what we’re going to do.” He stood and opened the liquor cabinet. “All of this is going down the drain.”
“What?” Carina slapped her thighs. “But, that’s your stash.”
“Exactly, and you’re out of control. No more drinking.” He opened the bottle of cognac and tipped it upside down in the sink.
“Wait, why don’t you give it to your friends? I promise I won’t drink any of it.”
He pulled out a box from the pantry. “Fine. I’ll drop it off this afternoon.”
Carina forced the oatmeal into her mouth. Normally she loved the creamy texture flavored with chopped dates, but today, everything felt clumpy and dry.
Her eye sockets heavy, she watched as Dylan packed bottles and cans.
“Maybe it’ll be better if I move out.”
Dylan wiped his hair from his eyes. “Not that again. Look. If that’s what you want, I’m not stopping you. But running from your problems isn’t going to solve a thing.”
“I don’t have any problems.” Carina set her spoon down and pushed away from the table. “Do you?”
“Yes. You.” Dylan positioned himself in front of her, an immovable hunk of manly flesh. “When I dragged you back here, drunk out of your skull, I realized how young and fragile you are.”
“I don’t need your protection.” Carina backed up to the wall, aware of the high voltage atmosphere.
“No, you don’t.” He trapped her by bracing his hands on either side of her. “But I’m never going to let you get drunk again on my account. I promise.”
Arrogant guy. So typical. Sweat flushed on her upper lip and her belly roiled with dizzying heat at his closeness. His scent was as dark and mellow as the coffee he served. Well, she wasn’t going to let him think she cared.
“I can guarantee you I wasn’t drunk because of you,” she said. “I just wanted to have some fun.”
He dipped his face in front of hers and squeezed her shoulder lightly. “Trying to make me jealous, weren’t you?”
The spot where he touched her sizzled, and Carina could feel her insides melting, but she squirmed out of his grip. “Why would I do that? We have a contract. Friends only, nonexclusive.”
“Then why the drama? You storm out of here giving me the stink eye, wearing a barely-there party dress. Then you get drunk at a club and let guys paw all over you.”
“Excuse me for being in the way.” Carina stomped from the kitchen. She had to get out of here before she made a bigger fool of herself, like admit she was falling for him and couldn’t stand seeing him with anyone else. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll pay you.”
Dylan took two long steps and spun her around, his hands on her upper arms. “I’m not running a bed and breakfast.”
“Of course, just the bed, not the breakfast.”
“Pass that by me again? I had one friend over. One, in all the time you’ve lived here and you go ape shit on me.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m tired of your games.”
“Same here.” Dylan took the crumpled contract out of his pocket and ripped it in half. “You’re too good for this.”
~ ~ ~
Dylan positioned the demitasse under the shot of espresso and watched the brew trickle, rich and dark. Sundays at The Brewed Force was light, and Joanne, the owner, had already let the rest of the crew go.
He wasn’t eager to go home, not when he’d hurt Carina’s feelings. He shouldn’t have challenged her about going nuts over Jessica. If anything, it meant she had feelings for him, feelings that were precious and needed to be nurtured, not stomped over.
Sighing loudly, he pulled the cup and sprinkled cinnamon and a shake of vanilla, then brought it to the voluptuous brunette sitting on the barstool.
“No hearts tonight?” The customer drew her tongue over her upper teeth.
“Oh, I forgot.” He forced a grin and took the cup to the milk steamer. He spun the milk, but overdid it, and had to start over. Just when he thought he was ready to pour, the woman tapped his shoulder.
“Coffee’s getting cold,” she said.
He startled and the pitcher slipped from his fingers and spilt milk on the floor. “I’ll brew you another.”
The brunette shrugged. “I’ve gotta go anyway. Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, sorry. Here’s your money back.” Dylan pulled a few bills from his pocket and handed it to her.
She pressed her warm palm over his hand and swiveled her hips. “How about I tip you at my place?”
“Not tonight, sweetie.” He winked and gave her hand a squeeze as he pried her fingers from him.
The woman bent toward him, letting him see her ample cleavage while she fished a card from her purse. “You owe me a hot one.”
A chill rattled the back of his neck when he spotted Sheila standing near the doorway. She narrowed her eyes and powerwalked toward him.
Dylan swiped a towel and ducked behind the counter to clean the puddle of spilt milk.
“Don’t hide from me.” Sheila’s voice towered above him.
“I’m off in fifteen.” He threw the wet rag in the laundry bin.
She crossed her arms and huffed. “There aren’t any customers here anyway.”
“Not trying to get rid of you. Just had a long day.”
“Have you been back to the apartment?”
“No, why?” Dylan wrung out a washcloth and wiped down the counter. “Is Carina okay?”
Sheila slapped down a single key. “I helped her move.”
Dylan’s head jerked like he’d been punched. “What happened? Where is she?”
“Some place in Orinda. One of the intern’s parents have a unit over their garage.”
“Intern? What’s his name?”
“What does it matter?” Sheila said. “You had your shot and blew it.”
He shrugged, pretending he didn’t care, and picked up a mop. “I’m happy for her. Now she can concentrate on her internship and be the success she always wanted to be.”
“Yep, and you’re free to do whatever you want with whomever you please.” Sheila picked up the card the brunette left on the counter. “Arabella Sánchez, fashion designer. Sounds like your type.”
Dylan snatched it and threw it in the trash. “If you’re going to order anything let me know because I have to turn off the machines and clean them.”
“Don’t want anything. I came to talk to you.” She flopped her purse onto the counter and grabbed a barstool. “I’ll wait.”
He switched off the espresso maker, dumped the grounds out of the press pot, and brushed coffee bits from the grinder. His heart beat unsteadily, and his stomach was hollow. Why did he care so much for Carina? How had she gotten under his shell? Dangit. He was as whipped as the cream hearts he so expertly layered onto her coffee.
If he’d known she’d be gone, he would have poured her a heart this morning. Heck he would have poured his heart out for her and explained. He should have told her he hadn’t slept with Jessica or any other woman since meeting her. Not that she’d believe him or ever trust him again.
After the shop closed, Dylan and Sheila walked to his apartment. The place felt dull and lifeless, as if its soul had departed. Dylan stepped into Carina’s room. It still held a trace of her sultry perfume.
The keychain he gave her as a welcome gift sat on the night stand. He picked it up. “She forgot this?”
“She left it on purpose,” Sheila said. “She took it out of her purse and set it there.”
So, it wasn’t an excuse to return. She meant never to see him again. Pressure filled Dylan’s sinuses and he blinked hard. “We had such a good time together.”
“Really? Didn’t look like it from what I saw last night.” Sheila plopped herself on the bed. “Carina told me everything. How you kissed
her and made her feel like she meant something to you. Then she comes home thinking you cooked dinner for her only to find you with another woman.”
Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hold it. She blew me off for lunch claiming she had to work and then I saw her walking to the deli with another intern.”
“Don’t tell me you got jealous and retaliated.” Sheila’s mouth gaped and she shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what a fool he’d been. “You screwed up. The reason I set you up with Carina is so you’d get over Rebecca.”
“What? You’re worse than my sister. Meddling.” He wandered to the kitchen and looked for a beer before remembering he’d given all of it to his band buddies. “I’m as over Rebecca as the last ice age.”
“No, you’re hanging out with women who are polar opposites to Rebecca. Irresponsible, don’t have a care in the world, just have fun with no strings and no commitment. Can’t you see that running away from something will get you nowhere?”
“Look, I thank you for your advice and taking care of Carina.” Dylan grabbed a carton of milk and drank out of it. “But it seems she’s also running away.”
Sheila’s lips twisted. “True. I probably shouldn’t say anything, but Carina isn’t experienced. I helped her move because I don’t want to see her hurt. You should leave her alone.”
Ice ran through Dylan’s veins. He hadn’t meant to damage Carina. She was the one who’d proposed the bed buddy contract with all the rules: nonexclusive, quit at will, no strings. Why would Sheila put all the blame on him?
Chapter 17
Carina sat at her computer, finding it hard to concentrate on the numbers. Two weeks had gone by since she moved out of Dylan’s apartment and she hadn’t had any contact with him. No texts, emails or phone calls.
Van’s parents had given her a suite over their garage, the so-called in-law quarters that was more spacious than the cramped apartment she’d shared with Dylan.
Her parents had visited and had a grand time conspiring with Van’s parents on how to get them together as a couple. They also brought her violin which turned out to be a great stress reliever. She could get lost in her favorite music. The other day, she googled some Scottish fiddle tunes and learned “Loch Lomond.”
Carina rubbed her bleary eyes. What she wouldn’t give for a sound night’s sleep. She finished the report and hit ‘send,’ then brought up The Licked Blues’ website and stared at the video Sheila had posted. Turning off the volume, she focused on Dylan, the way his hands moved over the neck of his guitar, how he gyrated and tossed his hair, the shape of his lips while he sang. She could almost feel the words deep inside her heart.
Why was she grieving over a guy who’d never promised her a relationship? She’d no business being hurt, moping around and acting as if her life were over. If she was going to be so bent out of shape over a roommate, a temporary attraction, what would happen to her if she really lost her heart?
Someone tapped on the frame of her cubicle, and she quickly clicked on a spreadsheet.
“Rise and shine.” Rob propped himself on a file cabinet. “Some days it’s great to be a woman.”
“Come again?” Carina straightened her blazer.
“You’re about to get an invitation to the Mogul partners’ Fourth of July bash.” He seemed proud of himself as he swung his legs and loosened his tie. “I’ll let you go home and get ready. How about I pick you up at six? It’ll be fun.”
A chill scratched Carina’s scalp. Was Rob asking her on a date? She checked his ring finger. Bare.
He tapped her desktop. “Don’t take too long thinking about it. Text me your address if you’re going.”
“Sure, I’ll let you know.” She knew she had that dreaded deer-in-the-headlights look. It was probably a friendly invitation, an opportunity to meet the partners. Maybe Rob was proud of her work and wanted to reward her for all the hours she’d put in.
Carina slipped a bottle of Dolce & Gabbana No. 1 perfume from her purse and dabbed it behind her ears and on her neck. Then she texted Rob.
~ ~ ~
A few hours later, Carina walked with Rob around Berkeley Marina Park before heading for the dock. The entire city had turned out for a giant block party with live music on the bandstand, carnival rides, magic shows, dragon boat rides, and food vendors.
Even though it was July, temperatures in the Bay Area dropped in the evening and Carina shivered in her jacquard lace mini-dress.
Rob put a protective arm around her, and she tried not to cringe. He wasn’t unattractive: late twenties, dark brown hair and that Clark Kent look. But … he wasn’t Dylan. She walked with him up the gangway of a 220-foot yacht owned by the firm’s senior partner.
Carina recognized several analysts, associates, and even a few VP’s, but she didn’t see Rebecca or any of the other interns.
“Shall we get cocktails?” Rob led Carina to the upper deck. “What’ll you have?”
“I’m not twenty-one yet.”
Rob winked. “No one’s going to ask for an ID.”
“That’s true, but alcohol and I don’t get along.”
“Fair enough.” Rob took a glass of champagne from a waiter and pulled Carina toward the rail. He put his arm around her shoulder again and stroked her hair. “How did I luck out to get such a beautiful intern?”
Carina forced a smile. “I thought you appreciated my brains. If I hadn’t caught the present value error in the last pitch book …”
“You know you don’t have to sell me?” He tilted his face close to hers. “I already admire everything about you.”
Her skin crawled, but how could she shrug out of his grasp without offending him? She pointed toward the pier. “Is that where they’ll launch the fireworks?”
“Yes, but I’ll only be looking at the fire in your eyes.”
Carina cringed at the cheesy line. “We’re professionals, right?”
He licked his lips. “Yes. As long as you know the score. This isn’t a date.”
“Right. I agree.” A glimmer of relief settled over her.
“That means anything that happens here is forgotten in the office.” His hands glided around Carina’s waist and pulled her firmly against him.
“Uh … I can’t do this.” Carina squirmed back. “I’m sorry.”
He let go of her, holding his palms up. “I misunderstood. I thought you were ambitious.”
“I’m a hard worker, but not this way.”
“You have a lot to learn.” He grinned and took her hand. “If you’re not going to drink, let’s meet some of the bigwigs and their dates. Try and relax, okay?”
“I’m trying my best.” Carina gritted her teeth and followed him to the lower deck.
He pushed through the double-doors to a lounge area filled with bankers and their model-looking dates. A group of admins stood around the bar flanked by men, and there were a handful of older couples sitting at the tables, nibbling canapés and sipping wine. Rob took a seat at one of the tables, introduced Carina, and praised her work to the VPs and partners.
The band struck up a drumroll and several members of their table headed to the dance floor to do the limbo.
“Ready to dance?” Rob took Carina by both hands and pulled her forward to the line. Carina had an advantage since she was shorter than most of the crowd. The partiers cheered and clapped as couples wiggled and jiggled under a lowering bar. They were called out early when Rob fell.
Carina was just starting to relax when the lights dimmed and a familiar voice spoke. She jerked her head toward the band. She could barely see over the heads of the people around her, but her heart clenched when Dylan stepped to the front with his guitar hanging over his shoulder.
“This next song is one I wrote for a woman with a whole lotta heart who walked out of my life not long ago.”
Dylan strummed the first chord and sang:
I was singing in the city,
Guitar in my arms,
When she walked around a corner,
>
And landed in my lap.
“Let’s dance,” Rob said, tugging Carina into his arms.
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” She averted her face, hoping Dylan hadn’t seen her.
The song continued:
I didn’t know what hit me,
Didn’t see the signs,
But the days became brighter,
And my heart sang with laughter.
I held her in the shower,
And kissed her on the train.
But she left me in the tunnel,
And took my heart away.
Carina staggered from the dance floor.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” Rob steadied her.
“No, I need fresh air.” She wrenched herself from his grasp and ran for the stairs. Glancing back, she caught Dylan staring straight at her.
Her heart expanded in her chest and sweat prickled her face. He’d seen her with Rob, and he’d get the wrong idea about her.
Not missing a beat, he sang the chorus:
She’s got a whole latte heart,
And she’s got mine.
She’s got a whole latte love,
And I wish it were for me.
Carina tore up the stairs. She weaved her way through the other partygoers to the upper deck. The wind caught her hair and flung it in her sweaty face. She bent over the rail, heaving. He said she had his heart. What did that mean?
Rob caught up with her. “Are you sick? Anything I can get you?”
“No, nothing.” She bowed her head in her hands. “I’m sorry. Can you let me sit here alone? I’m not feeling well.”
“I’ll sit with you.” He led her to a cushioned bench.
“Please, Rob. I need to be alone. I enjoyed our outing, but I don’t want to ruin the evening for you.”
Rob glanced around impatiently and shrugged. “True. I’ve been wanting to chat up a few associates who graduated from my university. I’ll catch you when it’s time to go.”
She nodded and flashed him a smile, then put her head between her arms and took slow, deep breaths. Dylan’s voice replayed in her mind and drew chills down her spine along with wanting and missing him. Even though she’d been working most of the time she lived at his place, she’d never forget the fun, from the welcome party to frolicking in the community garden.
Whole Latte Love (The Jewells) Page 17