Nate stared at Patrick, swaying even though they were both holding him up. His room was only halfway down the landing, but he was very drunk and mostly asleep. “I’ll help you deliver him to his wife,” he said, hoisting one arm around the other man’s waist again. “Besides, don’t we still have a conversation to have?”
Carrie gave him a quiet, unreadable look, and nodded. “Okay, then.”
Selena didn’t even wake when they tipped Patrick into bed beside her, much to Nate’s relief. He hadn’t been enthusiastic about the idea of explaining her husband’s state to her. As it was, Selena had her eye mask on and was snoring away like a drunk sailor.
They were both sure to be great fun in the morning.
Nate and Carrie tiptoed away from the Blue Room, and Nate paused when they reached the smaller set of stairs leading to the attic. Carrie rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. “Come on,” she said. “It’s too late to mess around with coyness.”
Nate smiled and followed her up.
Carrie didn’t bother putting the main light on in her bedroom, so Nate waited by the door until she’d weaved her way through all of Nancy’s knickknacks to switch on the bedside lamp. Guided by the pale yellow glow, he made his way to the bed, where Carrie stripped off her silky purple dress before slipping under the covers in her underwear.
“What happened to the Wedding Planner pajamas?” Nate stripped off his own jacket, and shirt, leaving his t-shirt on for the time being.
“A one-night-only occurrence,” Carrie said, yawning. She yawned. “Sorry you missed it.”
“I liked the hat best anyway.” Unfastening the top couple of buttons, Nate let his jeans fall to the floor and tugged off his socks. He was actually quite glad she hadn’t got changed. Her lingerie was a creamy lace, which matched her skin beautifully, and he had plans for it.
Carrie yawned again. Maybe in the morning.
“Could have been worse,” she told him. “Ruth’s pajamas had diamante stick-on gems spelling out Future Mrs. Frobisher.”
Nate slipped under the covers beside her. “Very disturbing.”
Reaching out a slim, pale arm, Carrie flicked the light switch again, and the room plunged into darkness. Nate snaked an arm out under her shoulders and tugged her closer to him, closing his eyes as her warm skin met his.
They lay in silence for a long moment, and if it hadn’t been for her uneven breathing Nate would have thought Carrie had fallen asleep. Then she said, “Have you thought of your answer yet?”
“Several,” Nate answered honestly. “I’m just not sure which one you want to hear.”
“Whichever one’s the truth.”
Nate sighed. “They’re all the truth.” There was silence again. Nate glanced at the illuminated face of Carrie’s alarm clock. It had gone past late and was now firmly in the very early morning. They really should get some sleep.
“I’m not the same person I was that summer,” he said finally. “I guess the real reason I didn’t tell you was because I wanted you to get to know me as I am now.”
“I barely knew you that summer,” Carrie pointed out. “Apart from that one night on the terrace. Pretty much all I knew was that you could dance and sing, and really kiss.”
Nate chuckled, and Carrie twisted ’round in his arms, rubbing all that cream lace against his skin. “What did you think I knew?” she asked.
“What everybody knew, that summer.” Nate sighed, wishing he couldn’t remember it quite so clearly. “That I was a problem child, sent to stay with relatives in the country for the summer to straighten me out. That Nancy had probably saved my life.”
Carrie’s pale hand snuck under the edge of his t-shirt, resting against his chest, radiating warmth. “I thought you’d just assume you knew me from the TV show,” he said.
“And I didn’t even manage that.” Carrie tucked her head under his chin, and Nate wrapped his arms ’round her back, wanting to keep her as close as he could for as long as possible.
“You clearly spent too much time working over the last six years, and not enough watching television.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” Carrie admitted.
She was so close and warm, that Nate almost didn’t want to ask his next question. Didn’t want to ruin it. But he still needed to know. “What are we doing here, Carrie?”
She froze in his arms, and Nate cursed himself, silently. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t have to...”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Carrie’s voice was small, and Nate made himself utterly still and quiet to hear her better. “I came here wanting to finally do something by myself, to prove myself. But you...” She shook her head, and her hair tickled his neck.
“I messed it all up for you.”
“You showed me that needing help didn’t mean what I was doing wasn’t worthwhile.” Carrie placed a soft kiss at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and Nate shivered. “So, thank you for that.”
“Even though I’m just an employee?” Nate asked, knowing he was pushing it, but unable to stop himself.
“You were never just an employee,” Carrie said, and shifted again so her leg was hooked over his hip. Nate’s whole body vibrated with the effort of staying still. Then Carrie kissed a trail up his neck to his ear, each kiss soft and tender and completely arousing.
Nate gave up any pretense of not moving.
* * * *
Carrie grinned as she felt the bed shift beneath her and Nate’s strong arms tuck her under him on the mattress. He’d held out longer than she’d expected, to be honest.
“You know,” she said, shivering at the sensation of Nate’s hands running up her sides, tracing the lines of her best lace bra. “That kiss had a very detrimental effect on my love life.”
“Really?” Nate murmured, his lips trailing after his fingers. Carrie’s hips twitched under him, and she could feel the muscles of his stomach against her thighs. “How so?”
Carrie gasped as his mouth reached the underside of her left breast, even as his hand brushed against the skin of the right. “Let’s just say,” she managed finally, “it was a hard act to follow.”
She could feel him smile against her skin at that. “And I was worried you wouldn’t remember.” Carrie tried to answer, but at that point Nate’s lips closed over the lace covering her nipple, and she forgot what she had intended to say.
Instead, she reached down and ran her hands up his back, grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it up over his chest. He gave a very endearing squeak of disappointment when she reached his neck, but obligingly released her to let her pull the fabric over his head and toss it out of the way.
“Fair’s fair,” he muttered, repeating the maneuver on her bra.
Absolutely fair, Carrie agreed silently, as his mouth went to work on her other nipple as soon as the material was out of the way.
She was starting to worry that kisses wouldn’t be the only things ruined for her, after tonight.
Time to get back some control of the situation. “So, is this one of your conditions?”
Nate released her breast and looked up at her, chin resting on her ribcage. “What?”
“Your conditions. For the TV show.”
With a long blink, Nate curled his fingers around her waist and pushed himself up. “You really want to talk about this now?”
“Only if you can multitask,” she said, pressing him down. He obediently followed her instruction, running kisses down her stomach. “I was just wondering. Last time we did this, you wanted a greenhouse and a kiss.”
“I wanted you,” Nate murmured against her skin. “I always want you.”
The rush of heat that ran across her skin could have been from his words or his touch, and Carrie didn’t much care which. “So, not a condition, then.” She cursed herself silently, even as she spoke, because Nate sighed into her stomach, then shifted back up the bed to lie on his side next to her, tugging at her waist until they were nose to no
se. “I didn’t say stop.”
“My conditions,” he said, his fingers still trailing up and down her side. “Were more like this.”
“This?” Carrie asked, her breath coming short as his fingers trailed lower.
“Mm hmm.” Nate leaned in and kissed her again, his lips soft and tender against hers. Reaching back, he pulled the hand she had resting on his hip down between them, and even as she moved to hold him, heavy and hard in her hand, his fingers were returning to between her thighs. “Equals,” he breathed against her lips, and Carrie swallowed hard.
“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” she said, moaning when his fingers swirled around. “I’ve got another job for you right now.”
Nate gave a lazy smile. “And what’s that?”
Looking straight into his eyes, Carrie remembered his words from the terrace–I’m in love with you–and saw the truth of them there, even in the darkness.
“Make love to me,” she said, and Nate grinned as he moved to obey.
* * * *
Carrie woke the following morning to a still dark room, a screaming alarm clock and Nate swearing. Loudly.
Reaching across to her bedside table, she turned off the alarm then rolled over to look at Nate’s dear, grumpy face. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked, all too aware of a pounding headache.
“Like I finally fell asleep around an hour ago,” he grumbled. “And got woken up by an insane screeching.” Neither of which was all that far from the truth, Carrie realized.
She laid her head on the pillow and closed her aching eyes, just for a moment. “If we make it through this day, it will be a miracle.”
Nate groaned some sort of agreement. Carrie felt his muscles tense beside her and he said, “Right,” before rolling into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “Better get to work.” He turned and gave her a tired smile. “Insert your own boss is a tyrant joke here.”
“Will do,” she promised, and didn’t even pretend not to be ogling his naked backside as he stood up.
Then he turned to her, and it took Carrie a moment to focus on the serious expression on his face, rather than his naked body. But when she did, the warmth that had been filling her body started to dissipate.
“Don’t look like that,” Nate said, tugging his boxers on, before perching on the edge of the bed. “It’s just...what I said last night. About us being equals.”
Carrie yanked the blanket up to cover her shoulders. “I’m still your boss, Nate. Unless you want to quit.”
“Quite the opposite.” Nate reached under the blanket and grabbed her hand. “But I do need to be sure that it’s what you want, too.”
“There was some doubt about that?” Carrie joked, thinking over the night. “Because I thought I was pretty clear.”
But Nate’s eyes were still serious. “You know what I mean. This is the part where something convinces you that you can’t sleep with the help, and you ignore me for three weeks.”
Carrie scowled. “And then you run off to your ex-girlfriend.”
Nate shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about that.” He shifted closer, resting their joined hands against her naked hip. “I can be here for you, at the Avalon, any way you need me. But if you want me here–” He pressed against her, pushing her into the mattress. “–then it needs to be a full time thing. Not something you pick up then toss away until you’re bored again.”
“All or nothing,” Carrie whispered, wondering if he knew how terrifying that sounded.
He nodded, and for a moment, all she could see were his storm cloud eyes. “The show could be a great opportunity for us, too. You give me the gardens and free rein to do whatever I need to with them, and you can have the money to fix the inn. God knows I’ve no interest in hotel management. But we could be...”
“Equals,” Carrie murmured.
Nate nodded. “Or as close as we’re going to get.” He shifted away and said, “But you don’t need to think about it today. We’ve got a wedding to put on, and a thousand things to do.” He stood up, flashing her a quick smile, and stooped to avoid banging his head. “Starting with a shower. Don’t suppose Matt’s fixed the plumbing in here yet?”
“Not yet,” Carrie said, as he disappeared into the bathroom. Her bathroom hadn’t been high on the list of priorities. But if she was going to stay, she needed to make this place more habitable. Nate couldn’t even stand up in there.
Something to think about after the wedding, she supposed. Along with Nate’s proposal, and the future of the Avalon Inn. Nice, peaceful times ahead, then.
Hadn’t Nancy lived in the gatehouse, once? She could move there. They could move there. Carrie shook her head. After the wedding. For now, she needed to focus.
Pulling herself up against the headboard, she reached over for her clipboard and was wearily reviewing the tasks for the morning when the bedroom door flew open to reveal a clearly hungover Ruth. Carrie tugged the blanket a bit more firmly over herself and hoped Nate would choose this morning to take a long shower, despite the temperamental plumbing. “Good morning,” she said, eyebrows raised.
“I don’t care how gorgeous the naked man in your bathroom is,” Ruth said, her face serious. “I have approximately five and a half hours until I get married. I need coffee, you in my room having your hair done and an explanation of where my flowers are. Now.” With that, she shut the door behind her, and Carrie sighed. Time to get back to work.
Chapter 14
It took a little longer than Ruth might have liked, because Carrie refused to start the day off without a shower and an opportunity to kiss Nate and hand over the job lists for him to distribute to everyone else working there that day.
But twenty minutes later Carrie sat at the bridal suite dressing table having her auburn locks fussed with while she ran Ruth through the order of play.
“Nate’s taking the buttonholes round to the men now, the harpist will be here at eleven and your mum’s gone back to bed for a small lie-down.” Carrie flinched as a hairpin hit her scalp. “You know we went through pretty much all of this yesterday.” Apart from the parents of the bride’s combined hangovers.
“I know,” Ruth said, pacing around Cyb’s four-poster bed. “I just need to hear it again. Where are the other girls?”
“All having their nails and hair done in the village. Like you instructed them to.” Persuading the beauty parlor to open at seven-thirty that morning had been a challenge in itself, but Ruth was set on a midday ceremony and eight bridesmaids, and Carrie had wanted to make sure everyone had plenty of time to get ready.
Ruth froze, a look of horror on her face. “Why aren’t I having my nails done?”
“Because you had them done yesterday. With me.”
Dropping to sit on the bed, Ruth examined her hands. “Oh. Yeah. That’s right.”
“All done,” the hairdresser said, finally, and Carrie jumped up from the chair, barely pausing to glance in the mirror.
“Right then,” Carrie said. “Ruth, sit down and have your hair sorted. I’m going downstairs to check on everything else.”
“Not until you put your dress on,” Ruth said firmly, striding across to the wardrobe.
“There’s still three and a half hours to go,” Carrie pointed out, not relishing spending any more time than necessary in a corseted dress and a strapless bra. “I might spill something on it.”
“I know you,” Ruth said. “Once you get down there, you’ll be busy and you’ll forget the time, and you are not attending my wedding in a bloody black suit, okay.”
Ruth brandished a coat hanger in what Carrie considered a threatening manner, so she said, “Okay,” and slipped off her suit jacket.
“What was Anna saying to Nate last night?” Ruth asked, as she helped Carrie into her dress.
“Something about how he must be finding it difficult, working under me.” Carrie shook her head, squeaking as Ruth tugged the laces running up the back of her bridesmaid’s dress tighter than
her ribs thought appropriate.
“I wouldn’t have thought that being under you was a problem for him. Or over, for that matter.” Ruth tied the laces off in a bow at the base of Carrie’s back, and came around to the front to survey her work. Ruth was currently parading around in nothing but ivory satin underwear and stockings, and the sight of Ruth’s perfect body, so easily displayed, was not making Carrie feel any better about her own suddenly-too-tight pale lavender dress.
More worrying was the concern that the bridesmaids’ dresses might no longer match the hastily dyed roses. Cyb hadn’t managed to look entirely convincing when trying to assure Carrie the flowers were all under control the previous evening.
Ruth’s mother popped her head around the door, apparently feeling revitalized by her lie-in. “Are the bouquets here yet?”
Carrie jumped in before Ruth could. “They’re being kept in water downstairs. We didn’t want them to wilt before the ceremony.”
Ruth gave Carrie a faintly incredulous look, but didn’t contradict her. Aunt Selena nodded, and disappeared again, presumably until the next time she thought of something else that might have been missed by Carrie, Ruth, Anna, and the rest of the Avalon Inn staff. Carrie wasn’t entirely sure why Selena had bothered hiring a wedding planner at all if she planned to duplicate all the work.
“Are the bouquets really downstairs?” Ruth asked, once her mother was gone.
“Of course,” Carrie said, hoping she was telling the truth.
Ruth watched her for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. What’s next?”
“You might want me to go and check on your other bridesmaids,” Carrie suggested. “Make sure they’re not already back and celebrating their excellent nails with some pre-ceremony champagne.”
“Well, if I hadn’t had to manhandle you into your dress, I might have been able to keep a better eye on them.”
“You ordered it too small,” Carrie lied, knowing full well that Jacob’s breakfasts were solely responsible. “And I really do need to get downstairs. Why don’t I send the girls up as soon as they get back to wrangle you into your dress, and then we can start getting this show on the road.”
Room for Love Page 25