Created In Fire (Art of Love Series)

by McDonald, Donna

  Keeping her head down to hide how close to tears she was, Carrie spent the whole walk out of the reception hall wishing that she’d followed her instincts and run away earlier. She’d had more than one chance to do it.

  Then when she remembered her father had offered to help her, the tears flowed like a river and her sudden sobbing startled everyone standing near the restroom.

  Michael watched Carrie storm away and smiled about the story he was going to be able to tell one day about what he had said at his wedding that made his bride so mad at him.

  Shane and Brooke both stepped up and put hands on their hips.

  “What?” Michael asked, unable to hide his amusement at their equally exasperated expressions. They were really a lot alike, he thought.

  “Did you have to publicly embarrass Carrie, you big idiot?” Shane chastised.

  “She started the fight,” Michael said, having trouble believing Shane thought he’d crossed a line. Shane didn’t even recognize lines.

  “Doubtful,” Shane replied. “I think you just don’t know when to back off with that damn pride of yours.”

  “She was mumbling something about not being a field for any man on her way out,” Brooke said quietly. “I swear you two have more code than any couple I’ve ever met. Do you ever get along for more than two minutes?”

  Michael sighed, feeling the first twinges of regret. “I guess not as much as we should. I’ll apologize to her later.”

  “Apologize?” Brooke said, rolling her eyes. “Michael, she was ill before the wedding started. While Carrie was fighting nausea, she and her father had a serious chat about her leaving you at the altar and ended up joking about it. I don’t know what level of bravery got Carrie down the aisle to you, but it was a miracle she didn’t pass out from nerves. Your joking was some seriously bad timing on your part. She’s probably in the bathroom heaving right now. Congratulations, your teasing was the stress that finally broke her today.”

  Michael closed his eyes, swearing to himself. “God, I did it again. I just can’t seem to keep from zinging her. I really thought she was going to run away and I was just—excuse me, I have to go after her.”

  He walked away and practically ran over people as he hurried down the escape path Carrie had taken.

  Shane looked at Brooke, his eyes full of wonder. “Wow. That was some great lecture, Professor Daniels. There was enough guilt inducement in those words to make me want to beat up my own brother.”

  “Yes,” Brooke said, nodding, “but the ironic part is that it was all true. Carrie was a mess before we started the ceremony. Your brother is lucky she didn’t bolt, especially when he offered. Before the ceremony, her father offered to help her ditch, but she turned him down.”

  Shane’s eyes grew wide. Good thing Michael had no idea. His brother would have had a meltdown for sure.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Michael and Carrie have a stormy relationship,” Shane said.

  “As in thunder and lightning?” Brooke asked with a grin.

  “Yes, and very, very frightening,” Shane sang, laughing back and hooking an arm around her shoulders.

  “Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen,” Brooke acknowledged, fully smiling.

  “Yep. They are quite the pair. On behalf of my father and myself, I thank you for chastising my hot-headed, passionate brother for his bad behavior. Consider yourself officially welcomed to the family, Brooke,” Shane said, laughing.

  Chapter 21

  Michael burst into the stadium sized women’s bathroom in the church, scandalizing the other occupants even though he profusely apologized as he called out Carrie’s name.

  The two rows of stalls were mostly empty. No one answered him, nor did he see any white heels under the door or a woman in a wedding dress on her knees hugging the toilet.

  Michael rounded a corner after the stalls ended and found a wilted, still sobbing Carrie seated on old leather couch, flanked by his mother, her mother, and a very pissed off Jessica.

  “Carrie,” he said, falling to his knees in front of her. “I’m sorry, so sorry. Shoot me for being a jerk. I don’t know what got into me. I didn’t want to pressure you, but then I teased you because I was afraid you regretted marrying me. I do stupid things when I’m stressed.”

  Michael put his arms around her and hugged gently as the women moved away to make room for him to grovel properly. Under other circumstances he might have laughed, but the triple cold shoulder treatment coming from them stopped his nervous humor.

  “You totally embarrassed me in front of my clients and people I work with, Michael Larson,” she said, refusing to hug him back. “Do you get some sick, twisted pleasure in trying to destroy all my credibility where I work? There’s a damn place and time for that sort of teasing and it wasn’t while they were taking pictures.”

  “No! Of course I didn’t mean to make you look bad. Look—I’m sorry. God, I’m really, really sorry,” Michael protested, pulling back so she could see in his gaze just how sorry he was. “I was being a stupid guy. Okay? Just a stupid, scared guy.”

  “This may be my shortest marriage yet,” Carrie said wearily but fiercely, intentionally wanting to hurt Michael back.

  “Don’t say that. Punish me—I don’t care how, but just don’t—just don’t give up yet,” Michael begged, not caring who heard his plea or what they thought about it.

  Carrie lifted her chin and held Michael’s tormented gaze with her own hurt one.

  She pushed him away from her to arms length and punched his chest with the heel of her hand. When Michael looked shocked at the physical assault, and then hurt, Carrie punched him again even harder.

  “I’m like one of those dumb birds that’s always attacking its own reflection in a window, making the same mistakes with you over and over. Do you know why those birds do that? They can’t see it’s just their own damn stupidity,” she said. “You make me so mad sometimes, Michael. I don’t like being stupid about you over and over.”

  “I’m sorry. Really. Really. Really. Sorry,” Michael said, realizing Carrie was angry enough and brave enough to axe their relationship publicly. It would be worse than her running away.

  Carrie reached out and hit him one final time before bursting into tears again. “Look at me. I’m crying in front of everyone because of you. Definitely no cake for you later, mister. You so lost that freaking chance.”

  Michael seemed to melt into a puddle before her. Hugging her hips, he laid his head in her lap and sniffled. Thank God she wasn’t going to back out.

  “Okay,” he said softly against her lace covered thighs. “I accept my punishment.”

  “Stop sniffling,” Carrie ordered, sniffling in return. “If you cry too, you’re going to embarrass me in front of our mothers—all of them. Can’t you leave me a little damn dignity today?”

  “I don’t care about cake,” Michael said, lifting his face to her, eyes glistening with tears of relief that Carrie had said later. He was so relieved to know she would give him one. It meant he could make up with her.

  “Well, good thing you don’t care about cake, because you’re not getting any,” Carrie said angrily, but she stroked his cheek with a trembling hand to comfort them both so they could quit bawling.

  “I’d rather have yogurt bars than cake anyway. They’re healthier,” Michael said wickedly, grabbing both her wrists and kissing her when she would have screamed or hit him again or both.

  His mouth laughing against hers set off a series of arousal explosions all over Carrie’s body. When he finally released her, Carrie was too dazed with lust to remember how angry she had been.

  Michael took advantage of her momentary acquiescence to scoop Carrie up and sit down with her cradled in his lap, the skirt of her wedding dress spilling over both of them.

  “You are the most incredibly beautiful bride ever. It gives me heart palpitations even thinking that you might run away,” he said, tucking Carrie’s head on his shoulder and rocking her. “Don’t run away. Please
.”

  It felt so relieving to be held in Michael’s arms instead of fighting with him that Carrie just closed her eyes and gave in to the comfort.

  “You drive me absolutely crazy, Michael,” she said, curling in closer. “I used to be a sane and rational person until I let you into my life.”

  “My faults are obvious to everyone that knows me. How about if I make a list of my good qualities and tape them to the bathroom mirror above your other notes?” Michael asked, one hand rubbing the tension from her practically naked back. “Back rubs and foot rubs will be at the top of the list. Cooking will be second. You know I don’t mind housework. Hell, I change the sheets on the bed every other day.”

  Carrie snickered as Michael continued to rub her back and soothe her. He was so—incorrigible. At least the audience for his teasing was only their mothers this time.

  “Shut up, Larson. Just shut up,” she ordered, sniffling and laughing in her irritation.

  “Kiss me. I can’t help talking too much when I’m nervous,” Michael ordered back.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Carrie said, exasperated as she pulled his mouth to hers.

  Watching the younger woman cave, Jessica rolled her eyes, but caught Ellen’s twinkling gaze.

  “I hate to tell you, Jessica, but Michael gets that drama thing from his father,” Ellen said, reaching out to pat a now sagging Maggie Addison, shocked mother of the bride.

  Ellen had thought the woman was going to implode when Carrie had stomped into the lounge earlier and collapsed on the seat bawling and damning Michael Larson to hell. She had planned on tracking her eldest son down to find out what happened when he’d burst in and thrown himself at his bride’s feet.

  Sometimes, Ellen decided, mothers were better off just staying the hell out of the way and letting younger women take their sons to task for their bad behavior.

  Jessica looked at Ellen in disbelief. “So Michael got his drama from Will? You’re actually going to tell that lie with a straight face?” she demanded, finally giving in to the smile that had been hovering.

  “Absolutely,” Ellen said sincerely, her heart lifting as she heard Maggie snicker. “Want to go get your daughter and compare our children’s dramatic personalities? We’ll bring Shane in too. He’s a trained observer. We can let him decide.”

  “Brooke Daniels’ demeanor is completely calm. She’s like a lake on a still summer day,” Jessica argued, fighting the urge to laugh at Ellen’s outrageous claim. What was that Ellen had called her during their fight? Oh yeah. She called her a hellish-fire-breathing-dragon-witch. Will had been the calm one among the three of them.

  “Really? Has Brooke ever been stupid in love with a man yet?” Ellen asked, her mouth twitching. “If not, you don’t know what she’s capable of doing at the mercy of her hormones and emotions.”

  Jessica’s laughter eased away as she considered what Brooke in love might be like. Growing up, the girl could convince someone at the North Pole that they needed ice. Then she’d spent most of her college career honing that ability dating and arguing with law students. Jessica would probably feel more sorry for her future son-in-law because he would never win any arguments.

  Jessica shook her head. “Okay. You got me on that one, Ellen. I don’t think there’s been that kind of man in Brooke’s life yet.”

  Maggie sighed in resignation, as did Jessica and Ellen. “Well, there’s a dramatic man in my daughter’s life, regardless of who Michael got it from.”

  It would be nice, Maggie decided, if all men weren’t so—well, frustrating to deal with all the time. “Men,” Maggie spat the word like an epithet, surprised at the fierceness of the word as it left her mouth.

  “Amen, sister,” Jessica agreed loudly, a grin finding it’s way back to her mouth that it had been Maggie who said it instead of her.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Ellen said, her mouth forming a satisfied smile as she thought of her now very attentive husband. “I kind of like Luke Cannon these days. Men have their uses.”

  Jessica’s belly laugh echoed so loudly in the bathroom that seconds later Will came bursting in the door. He’d obviously been pacing around just outside.

  “Is everything okay in there?” Will asked, his concerned gaze going past the mothers to Michael rocking a practically comatose Carrie and whispering to her. “There’s a whole reception hall full of people going nuts out here. We’re not going to be able to hold back the rioting much longer without making some sort of explanation. Michael and Carrie need to get their act together and get back out here.”

  “See? I told you so,” Ellen said plaintively, laughing and barely wincing when Jessica pinched her arm. “Ouch.”

  Maggie thought it was strangest fight she’d ever seen two women have. She was suddenly very glad she’d never gone through with her plans for divorcing Ethan. As hard as her marriage seemed now and again, she’d take a relationship she was used to over Jessica’s and Ellen’s complicated lives anytime.

  *** *** ***

  Michael was doubly respectful at home later when he unzipped the lovely wedding dress to help Carrie out of it. He was shocked to discover her wearing white bridal lingerie beneath it. It both thrilled and humbled him that Carrie had gone all out on the wedding gear. He hadn’t really been expecting such a traditional bride act from her.

  “Wow. I thought the dress was beautiful,” Michael said softly, watching a smile curve her mouth but not reach her eyes. “You look like a lingerie model.”

  “You mean this?” Carrie asked, pointing to her white satin merry widow briefly, putting a hand on her still mostly flat stomach. Not even the most beautiful wedding dress could make her anything other than a reluctant bride. “Your mother insisted I needed all the trappings.”

  Carrie hung up the beautiful dress and carefully closed the storage bag around it. Maybe she’d loan it to Darla or Alison one day and it would see a happier outcome.

  It dawned on Michael as he watched his new bride walk around their bedroom in her three inch heels that in all the time they’d been together, he’d never seen her in anything so sexually alluring. She was his height in the heels. They would be eyeball to eyeball if he backed her into a wall. The thought sent a quiver of anticipation through all of him, which he banked quickly. He wasn’t rushing her this time.

  “Never thought I’d be thanking my mother for my wife’s seduction wear,” Michael said. “Let’s never tell Shane about this, okay? My chapter in his book is full enough already.”

  When that did garner a small chuckle from Carrie, Michael backed away to keep from reaching for his wedding fantasy come to life in his bedroom. And there was his big old bed with fresh sheets just waiting for them.

  Michael wanted to be noble, to give Carrie choices, to tell his new bride that he could wait until she loved him enough, but his fear of losing her was too great not to use the only connection he had to keep her.

  Not consummating their legal agreement wasn’t an option Michael could give Carrie, no matter how much guilt he had. He would just have to make it up to her some other way.

  Decision made, Michael shoved his guilt aside to shed his suit coat and shirt.

  Then stripped to his slacks and bare feet, he peeled the white layers from Carrie with as much reverent appreciation as he could show, kissing her into bed until she was just as needy as he was.

  To his utter consternation, her complete compliance with his seduction annoyed him more than it thrilled him. Michael didn’t want making love to his wife to be just a matter of her giving in to him when he knew she was still upset. Moreover, he didn’t want Carrie doing the emotional equivalent of just lying there like she didn’t care one way or the other if they had sex on their wedding night or not.

  “It’s too bad you’re not really as nice as you’re pretending to be right now. Still, I think it’s going to be exciting having a shrew for a wife,” Michael said, slipping hard inside Carrie’s aroused body, loving the way she thrashed under him, trying to resist
as she got upset.

  “Shrew? What are you saying, Michael? Do you consider yourself a prize husband?” Carrie asked sarcastically. “What is with you and fighting today, Michael? Maybe you should just try not talking for a while.”

  “That’s the second time today you’ve told me to shut up,” Michael said, laughing as his mouth closed over hers while the irritation was still pouring out.

  His tongue danced along hers in sync with the rest of him as he moved in and out of her. Eventually, he felt her body moving in time with his, felt the rhythm of her heartbeat.

  “I’m definitely not a prize. That’s for sure,” Michael said at last, when he lifted his lips from hers with a satisfaction that did not make him proud of himself, but did make him more sure of her. He could tell she was being herself, and that’s who he wanted.

  “That’s okay,” Carrie said. “I’m not looking for a prize, just a guy who can keep his mouth shut and his mind on what he’s doing. Is there any duct tape in the bedroom?”

  Michael laughed and stopped moving. “No, sorry. There’s no duct tape in here.”

  “Too bad,” Carrie said. “Why did you stop? I was very close. You’re usually more astute about such things in bed. I’d hate to think my husband couldn’t give me an orgasm.”

  Michael put his face into her hair. He loved Carrie’s sense of humor, her irritation when he didn’t do what she wanted. “I have to tell you Mrs. Larson, no man is ever going to love you or want you or appreciate you as much as your third husband does. Congratulations on your marriage. You wed the right man this time.”

  “You are so full of sh—,” Carrie began, only to have her angry words cut off as Michael’s determined mouth captured hers again. He kissed her over and over as if he had forever and nothing more important to do, which actually was the truth.

  “Shush,” Michael ordered against her lips when he set her mouth free at last. “I’m trying to give you an orgasm, but you’re going to have to focus to get there. Did either of your other husbands ever complain about how much you talk in bed?”