“Charming offer, and I won’t say it’s not tempting. However, even though you fit inside of me Shane Larson, you would never fit into my crazy life. But I do think you’re going make some lucky woman very happy one day,” Reesa said, not commenting on the rest.
She would remember Shane, but she would not come looking for him again. That was just not possible right now.
“Well even though I think we have more going on between us, it’s only fair to warn you I’m not above using outstanding sex to make you want more than this one night,” Shane told her.
“What else could you do to me to top what you’ve already done?” Reesa asked him, hoping to lighten the moment.
But when he fell asleep beside her almost two hours later, Reesa quietly snuck out of his house only to end up crying in the taxi all the way home.
She had grieved losing her fiancée, but the wound had healed over in a very short time. Tonight—well tonight leaving a man who was generous in bed and fun to be with was much harder than she’d planned on when she’d picked him up.
Spending a blissful few hours with Shane was the most personally hopeful thing to happen to her in a very long time.
He was flattering, fun, and just a really good guy.
He was also the first reason since Reesa had taken on full custody of all four of her sister’s children that she regretted the demands and limitations of her new life.
Chapter 16
Michael woke to the sound of the toilet flushing and bounded from the bed in a panic. He opened the master bathroom door without knocking and saw a mostly dressed Carrie leaning on the sink.
“Do you mind? I don’t burst in on you in the bathroom,” Carrie said pointedly, not bothering to soften the irritated scowl on her face. Michael Larson didn’t deserve a smile.
She studied her bleary-eyed reflection in the mirror instead of the yogurt-sticky naked guy in the doorway sporting a morning erection rivaling last night’s equally impressive versions. She had done many unspeakable things to and with the naked guy that she just wasn’t ready to think about this morning.
“Are you sick?” Michael asked.
Carrie snorted. “No. The medicine is working or the sickness is passing at last. I don’t care which.”
“Are you sure? You look like hell,” Michael told her, watching fascinated as fire and fury leapt into her gaze as she scanned him.
“That’s because some sex crazed maniac kept me up half the night after I’d literally worked my ass off all day and half the evening selling art. I didn’t get enough sleep, but now I’m too starved to stay in bed any longer. I’m going to brush my teeth and look for breakfast,” Carrie said morosely.
Michael laughed. She looked like she felt really awful, but he couldn’t help being happy it was his fault. He was going to have to do better, much better, at taking care of her. It was really hard to think about what better entailed when all he wanted this morning was more yogurt bars and the chance to do last night all over again.
She’d tasted—no, he had to stop thinking about that and take care of her.
“What time is it?” he asked, going back to the bedroom while Carrie brushed her teeth. Then he reappeared. “Wow. It’s almost nine. No wonder you’re hungry. How about banana walnut pancakes?”
“Sounds good,” she said agreeably, rinsing and hanging up her toothbrush.
“Good. Dad and Shane should be here anytime. I forgot to tell you about our Saturday pancake breakfast ritual. I guess Jessica will be coming now. Dad makes the pancakes,” he said.
Carrie glared in disbelief at Michael’s innocent gaze resting on her. “Really? Company is coming this morning? Thanks for the damn advanced warning, Michael. You can’t seriously expect me to be civil and make small talk when I want to kill you.”
“Why are you so mad this morning? Last night was good for you, wasn’t it?” Michael asked, crowding into the bathroom with her, worrying that maybe it hadn’t been as great for her as it had been for him.
“I barely remember last night. It’s all a blur. Maybe some of us need more than four hours sleep to remember things,” Carrie said to his reflection standing behind her. “And would you please put some clothes on?”
“Why? Am I tempting you?” Michael asked, grinning at her in the mirror.
“Only to change your singing position,” Carrie told him, glaring back.
Laughing, Michael turned his cranky spitfire around to fasten his mouth to hers, tasting the peppermint toothpaste as he pressed against her.
Fire, he thought, the heat of her mouth arousing him instantly.
He heard the doorbell ring and acknowledged the warning shot. Thank God they didn’t just use their keys. They had stopped doing that when Carrie moved in with him.
“Could you let everyone in while I shower, and maybe do it without scowling?” he asked, his lips still hovering over hers.
Carrie took one hand and pushed a still naked Michael hard against the bathroom wall, enjoying the snapping of his head against plaster and the sound it made as it hit.
“Ouch. . .time to paint the master suite a calming sky blue,” Michael said softly, not missing the twitch of her lips.
When she swore at him, he answered “later baby” as he watched her storm out.
*** *** ***
When a showered and swaggering Michael came down the hall twenty minutes later, he was welcomed by the smell of pancakes. Carrie stood by his father’s shoulder shoving handfuls of dry cereal into her mouth, and sipping from a glass of milk on the counter.
Jessica was out on the patio looking at his new art piece like a mechanic going over a car to check it out.
Carrie turned to look at him, still snarling as she ate more cereal.
“Shane not here yet?” he asked, ignoring the fire in Carrie’s eyes this time.
“Haven’t heard the bike, but he might be in his car this morning,” Will said, looking between Michael and Carrie. “Can you two hold off killing each other until after breakfast?”
Carrie snorted at Will’s side. “You’re a lot smarter than your son. He’s lucky to be alive today.”
“Older. Experienced. That’s why I gave you cereal and milk,” Will said. “What did he do, not feed you last night?”
Carrie wasn’t used to men taking up for her. Throat tight, she put the cereal box on the counter and her arms around Will to hug. She felt his chest rumbling under her arms and sighed.
“Your son kept bugging me and wouldn’t let me sleep,” she said plaintively.
Will laughed and patted her. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ll have a talk with him later.”
“Hey. Where’s my hug this morning?” Michael asked, torn between happiness and ridiculous jealousy of his father.
“You get nothing but grief until I’ve had a decent nap,” Carrie said, picking up her milk and drinking.
When the doorbell rang, Michael rolled his eyes over her answer and turned to go answer it. It was Shane looking as haggard and cranky as Carrie.
“Good morning to you too,” Michael said cheerily. “Party too hard last night?”
“Don’t make me hurt you. I only got about three hours sleep. I woke up at five and she was gone. I have no damn idea where to even start looking. She lied to me about who she was. Shit—I hate this,” Shane said, stomping by Michael and going into the kitchen.
Carrie looked at Shane warily. “Are you mad at Michael too?”
Shane poured himself coffee. “No. I’m just mad. Want me to beat him up for you? I’m sleep-deprived and looking for a fight.”
“Me too,” Carrie said, looking at Michael and narrowing her eyes. “That’s so tempting. I’m wondering it if would be as satisfying if all I get to do is watch.”
“It won’t,” Shane said reasonably. “But it would make me feel better.”
“Want some dry cereal?” Carrie asked, holding out the box.
Shane shoved his hand in and pulled out a handful. He crammed it in his mouth, chewed, swal
lowed, and chased it with coffee. “Last night was the most wonderful night of my life, but she left me anyway. Since she lied about who she was, I don’t even know how to find her to tell her she’s being stupid.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Michael asked, confusion making the demand sharp.
Jessica slid open the patio door and came back inside before Shane could respond.
“Michael—that new piece is amazing,” she said.
“Understanding At Last,” Carrie told her. “That’s its name.”
“There’s something different about that piece,” Jessica began. “Your art is changing, Michael.”
“Probably because I’m changing,” Michael said, wishing he could freeze this moment and make it last. To have the admiration of the two people who best appreciated his art was his new definition of happiness.
He looked at his brother, who refilled his coffee cup and stalked to the long kitchen table to sit. Shane looked worse in ways than Carrie did this morning. He looked—unsettled, Michael thought. Shane was never not calm.
“Shane? I’m paying attention now. What happened last night?” Michael demanded, shifting the attention of everyone in the room to his brother.
Shane looked at his Dad and Jessica and then at Michael and Carrie. He wanted this. He wanted this with her. If she’d stayed, he’d have brought her to meet them this morning. Maybe. If they’d been able to let each other out of bed.
He closed his eyes, shook his shaggy hair, and sent out a prayer into the universe. When he opened his eyes, his gaze was on Michael, who still looked concerned.
It gave him one idea about something he could do.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his checkbook, whipping his art pen from his front pocket. Karma, he decided. He would set his intent by conceding his pride.
“Here,” Shane said, handing the check he had written to Michael.
“What’s this for?” Michael asked, confused as he looked at the check. “Oh hell, Shane. I was only joking about that bet. You don’t really owe me a thousand dollars.”
“Yes. Yes I do, Michael. I fell in love last night,” Shane announced, thinking—there, I’ve said out loud now and made it real. “She’s five feet tall. And she’s exactly what you cursed me with finding.”
Silence fell in the kitchen. The sizzle of the griddle was the only sound for a few moments.
“Cursed you? What woman? Wait—let me ask a serious question before I go nuts trying to keep up with that analytical brain of yours. Who are you talking about?” Michael asked.
Shane swallowed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say—I don’t know. She lied to me about who she was. She was a little older, funny, sweet, and—perfect. She was perfect. I want her back. I want her in my life.”
Will shook his head and sighed. “Shane, I warned you to stop picking up women in bars.”
“I haven’t picked up a woman in months. This time it wasn’t my idea, Dad. It was her damn idea. She was too normal for me, but no—she didn’t want the preppie guy who was smiling at her all night. She wanted me. Then she told me to buy my shoes at Beadman’s because she bought some for her nephew there,” Shane said, noticing everyone was staring at him. “I sound like a raving madman, don’t I?”
“Pretty much,” Michael said, agreeing with him. Shane looked like a wild man talking nonsense about an invisible person.
Carrie looked at Shane’s face. Yep. Big old teddy bear, she decided. She walked by Michael and smacked him hard on the arm.
“Quit being snarky and show some sympathy. Can’t you see Shane is upset?” she demanded. She looked around the kitchen and couldn’t find what she wanted. “Where do you keep your drawing pads, Michael?”
“Why?” Michael asked.
When she growled at him for not answering her question, Michael walked to the refrigerator and pulled a tablet off the top of it. “Here. I can’t believe you’re so cranky without sleep.”
Carrie took the tablet and made herself skim past Michael’s excellent drawings. “I want to look at these more later,” she said to Michael softly and saw him nod.
She flipped to a clean page, and slid it in front of Shane. “Draw her. Capture her image while she’s still fresh in your mind.”
Shane raised his pen over the white pad. He thought of how she looked asking to buy him a beer, then later looking down when they had first joined their bodies. He saw her look away when he asked her real name.
Then suddenly it was like a light racing through him as the image flowed from his fingertips and out his pen with a speed he’d not managed before.
And this time when Shane went to fill in his heroine’s face, it was her. He actually sniffled and fought tears as she began to appear on the page. The relief of seeing her again, even in this form, astounded him.
“Oh my God, I fucking fell in love last night,” Shane said, the amazement of it in his voice. “She warned me she only had one night when she asked me to spend it with her. I couldn’t have said no. It just wasn’t possible.”
Carrie stood by his shoulder, sniffling herself as she watched him draw a heroine with so much pain in her eyes that the woman leapt off the page.
“She’s in pain,” she said.
“Yes,” Shane said, calmer now that he could see her again. Capturing her image in ink made her at least a little real. “I don’t know why she’s hurting. She never told me. All I could do was hold her and try to make her happy. I want to date her. Hang out with her. I haven’t had that kind of girlfriend in a long time.”
He ripped the sheet off the tablet and handed it to Carrie, who passed it to Michael. Will and Jessica leaned over Michael’s shoulder to study the picture.
Shane was already drawing another one, Carrie noticed. This time it was just the woman—not his heroine. This time she was smiling and in her eyes was the keen pleasure of her time with Shane.
“If she’s local to Lexington, someone knows her,” Carrie told him. “If we have to, we’ll do an art show of these pictures until somebody recognizes her. We can find her. I’ll get you a cable promo on KET.”
Michael, Jessica, and Will stared at Carrie, who was petting Shane’s hair as she promised him solutions.
Shane nodded. “She knows who I am, but she won’t come back. Whatever is keeping her away is serious. She swore she wasn’t married, and I believe her—have to believe that much to keep from going crazy. We’d—neither of us had been with anyone in a while. It was like we were preparing for each other. Now I don’t want anyone but her. It’s never been like that for me before.”
Carrie sighed and put her arms around Shane as he sat. He leaned his shaggy head against her chest and sighed in frustration.
“I don’t believe this. You’re hugging my brother now?” Michael demanded, his tone irritated. “After last night, I can’t believe you’re going hug every other man but me.”
Jessica reached out and smacked Michael on the back of the head.
“Ouch…hey,” Michael said, surprised.
“That’s for keeping Carrie awake and not letting her sleep,” Jessica said. “Look at her, Michael. She’s falling off her feet this morning. I wouldn’t hug you either.”
Carrie laughed, and Shane laughed against her as he raised his head.
“Thank you for the hug,” Shane said. “And the laugh. I needed that.”
Carrie nodded, sniffled, and leaned over to kiss Shane’s cheek. Shane handed her a napkin for her eyes.
“I’m like a freaking faucet. Once the tears are turned on, I can’t turn them off,” she said. “Just another lovely pregnancy thing.”
Carrie looked at Michael, saw sympathy in his gaze, and walked to him. His arms were around her the moment she got across the room to him. He rocked and soothed her as the pancakes and food were walked around them to the kitchen table.
“You can take a nap after breakfast. Please don’t ask me to apologize for last night,” he said. “I’d rather you stay mad a
t me than say that was not good for you.”
“I’m not a hypocrite. And I can’t take a nap. Your mother is taking me shopping to buy a dress for next weekend,” Carrie said, pulling out of his arms.
“Skip the shopping. It’s no big deal. What do you need a dress for?” Michael asked, looking around to see everyone staring at him like he was insane. “What? I like the clothes she wears now.” He looked into Carrie’s startled gaze. “Your skirts always look great on you.”
Carrie burst out laughing. She liked him more for forgetting. It made it less calculating and more—well, almost real that he’d get caught up in other things and forget.
“There may be hope for you after all, Michael Larson. While you figure it out, I need to wash up again for breakfast. My eyes are burning from crying. I’ll have Ellen drop me by a store later so I can buy some more frozen yogurt bars. If we’re going to go through so many at once, we’re going to need to stock up a few boxes.”
She walked out of the kitchen and headed to the bathroom.
“Really? Frozen yogurt bars?” Shane asked. “I want details.”
“Just pregnant woman cravings,” Michael told him, his face flushing as he remembered how many trips he’d made to the refrigerator to bring more back to bed with him.
Jessica turned to look at what Will was doing, pretending great interest in it. Will drew in a breath and fought the laughter building up inside him. Michael’s lie might have fooled Shane, but the two of them knew better.
We need some of those, Will mouthed silently, grinning when Jessica nodded.
“I know Carrie doesn’t have another art show. What do you think is going on next weekend? Did she tell any of you?” Michael asked, looking around and heading to the coffee pot. He poured a cup, trying his best to think what had slipped his mind.
“Just how many brain cells did you lose last night, Michael?” Will asked, earning his own slap from Jessica.
“A few,” Michael said, laughing.
“Had to be more than a few if you forgot your own wedding after all the planning you did for it, son.”
Created In Fire (Art of Love Series) Page 18