Caroselli's Baby Chase

by Michelle Celmer

  “No. And it wasn’t on when I left this morning.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.” First she couldn’t close a door, now she was incapable of remembering if she left a light on? Or was she reading way too much into every little thing he said, trying to make him into a bad guy even if he really wasn’t? And if so, what did that mean?

  Nothing very good, she was pretty sure about that.

  She pulled the garage door opener out of her purse. “I planned to go in through the garage, so I left the kitchen light on.”

  “Maybe the ghost turned it on,” he said, and she shot him a scathing look. He shrugged. “Or maybe not.”

  “I know you think you’re funny, but you’re not.”

  Opening doors was one thing, but lights that turned themselves on? It was more likely a burglar than anything supernatural…which was even worse now that she thought about it.

  She hit the button for the garage door opener, thinking that whoever it was, if they heard it, would come flying out the front door.

  No one did. Still, she was uneasy about just waltzing inside. What if someone was in there waiting for her? Someone too stupid to shut off the light that would alert her to his presence. Just because he was stupid didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

  “You look worried,” Rob said.

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “Not if I had a poltergeist living in my basement.”

  She didn’t justify that one with a verbal response, but her eye roll said it all.

  “You want me to come inside with you just in case?”

  She hesitated. The last thing she wanted was Rob, with his sexy stubble, smoldering eyes and ripped muscles, coming into her house and oozing sex appeal all over the place. Sure, he’d been a perfect gentleman all day, but what if he suddenly decided that the platonic arrangement wasn’t working for him and he made a move on her?

  And suppose there was a deranged psycho in her house waiting to chop her into little pieces and feed her to his pet python? Or make a coat out of her flesh? Which was worse? Death and mutilation or really good sex she shouldn’t be having?

  Wow, that was a tough one.

  “Would you mind?” she asked. “Just in case.”

  “If I minded I wouldn’t have asked. Although if there really was someone in there, hearing the garage door opening probably would have scared them off.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

  “Let’s go.” He shut off the engine and they both got out. “Let me go in first,” he said as they walked through the garage. To do otherwise would sort of defeat the purpose of asking him in, but she followed close behind him, stopping just shy of clinging to the back of his black wool coat. So close that when he stopped just before the door, she nearly ran into him.

  “Key?” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Oh, right.” She dug through her purse and pulled it out. She grabbed her phone, too, just in case she had to make a quick call to 9-1-1.

  He unlocked the door and pushed it open. The kitchen light was on, just as she had left it, and of course the basement door was open. She followed Rob inside, closing it as she walked past. For all the good it would do. The next time she walked back here it would probably be open again.

  As they stepped into the kitchen, the first thing she noticed was the open, half-empty bottle of wine on the counter.

  “Did you leave that there?” he asked.

  “Why yes, I always have a glass of wine with my breakfast.”

  He was the one giving the look this time.

  “When I left this morning it was in the refrigerator.”

  He pulled off one leather glove and touched the bottle. “It’s still cold.”

  Who would break into her house and drink a glass of wine?

  “I don’t suppose you’ve started smoking,” he said.

  “No, why?”

  He pointed to the kitchen table, where a pack of cigarettes and an old, beat-up silver Zippo lighter lay. She hadn’t seen that particular lighter in something like eight years. She gave a sigh of relief to know that they weren’t in any imminent danger. At least he wasn’t. But Carrie had the feeling she was in for the lecture of her life.

  “Alice!” Carrie shouted. “Get in here.”

  * * *

  Alice?

  Rob looked over at Carrie. Who the hell was Alice?

  Before he could ask, a woman appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was nearly as tall as Rob and thin to the point of being gaunt. Silky, pin-straight, jet-black hair framed a face that was as long and thin as the rest of her. She was more striking than beautiful, the kind of woman who would stand out in a crowd.

  Dynamic.

  “Rob, this is my best friend, Alice,” Carrie said. He recalled her mentioning a friend of that name when they were at the diner. He didn’t realize that she lived in Chicago.

  “Rob?” Alice said, looking him up and down, her crimson lips curling into a slightly lopsided, wry smile. “As in Rob Caroselli, aka Mr. New Year’s Eve?”

  “The one and only,” he said, noticing, as she stepped over to offer him a delicate yet long-fingered hand to shake, she seemed to be walking with a slight limp. She wore black leggings and a long black tunic top. Even her shoes, well-worn ballet flats, were black.

  “What are you doing here?” Carrie asked her.

  “I haven’t been able to reach you in days and assumed you were up to something, which—” she looked pointedly at Rob “—clearly you are.”

  “He just gave me a ride home. I haven’t had a chance to lease a car yet.”

  Skepticism narrowed Alice’s eyes, which were slightly turned up in the corners and an unearthly shade of violet. “Does he always walk you inside?”

  “We thought someone had broken in! And by the way, how did you get in?”

  “How long have we known each other?” Alice said. “You always keep a spare near the front door. It was just a matter of finding it.”

  Rob looked at Carrie. “You keep a spare key by the front door?”

  She shook her head and said, “Not now, please.”

  Alice folded her long, skinny arms under her nearly nonexistent breasts. “You promised.”

  Promised what? Rob wondered.

  “I see you’re smoking again,” Carrie shot back.

  Nice deflection.

  “I got dumped,” Alice said. “What’s your excuse?”

  Whatever Alice was referring to, it would seem that Carrie had no excuse. Or she couldn’t think of one just then.

  “That’s what I thought,” Alice said. “You clearly need supervision.”

  “It’s over,” Carrie said, then looked up at Rob. “Tell her it’s over.”

  He looked from one woman to the other, and though he had a pretty good idea of what she meant, he said, “I decline to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”

  “Did Rex really dump you?” Carrie asked her.

  Alice tossed her satiny black hair. “I guess I should have seen it coming. He was never home. And when he was, he was never really there. When I told him that my runway career is officially over, he must have figured the gravy train was drying up for good.”

  “What do you mean it’s over?” Carrie asked, setting her purse and briefcase on the kitchen table. “I thought you just needed time to heal.”

  “I may have been overly optimistic when I told you that. They said there was a slight chance I wouldn’t get full mobility back. But the physical therapy isn’t helping and my doctor thinks I might need another surgery.”

  “Oh, honey,” Carrie said, shrugging out of her coat. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I can still do face, or some catalog work, as long as I’m not on my feet for too long or I get a cankle on the left side.”

  Carrie turned to Rob. “Alice is a very successful runway model.”

  “Was,” Alice said.

  “How long will you be sta
ying?” Carrie asked her.

  “I guess it just depends on how long you want me around.”

  “Stay as long as you like. I can easily turn the office into a bedroom.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’m perfectly comfortable on the couch. It will be like we’re in college again,” Alice said, trying to sound cheerful, but her smile looked stiff and forced. Then she looked Rob up and down and added, “Are we going to do the hair band again?”

  Rob blinked. “Do the hair band?”

  “When we were roommates in college we had a system,” Carrie explained. “If one of us brought a guy home, we would loop a hair band around the door.”

  “Oh, like a band for your hair,” he said. “That makes more sense.”

  “Than what?”

  He shook his head. “Never mind.”

  Even if there were any ’80s hair bands left, those guys would be ancient by now.

  “There won’t be a need for the hair band because as I said, it’s over.” Carrie turned to him. “Would you please tell her that it’s over?”

  “So you brought guys back to your room a lot in college?”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “Ugh! You’re no help.”

  “I don’t know,” Alice said, looking him up and down again. “Now that I see him, maybe you should sleep with him again. You could do a lot worse.”

  “True,” Carrie said, giving him the same critical once-over in a way that made him feel a lot like a slab of meat. “But he’s kind of…well…nice.”

  Alice’s horrified look said she had the same distorted ideas about men that Carrie did. “Never mind.”

  “On that note, I’m going to go…I don’t know…mistreat a kitten or something,” he said. “Alice, it was a pleasure to meet you. Carrie, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

  “Thanks for coming in with me,” she said, walking him to the garage. He recalled specifically that she had closed the basement door on the way in, yet it stood open again.

  “It was no problem. Are you sure I can’t pick you up on my way in tomorrow?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  He wanted to kiss her goodbye, but he didn’t. Even though he was pretty sure she wouldn’t object. But she was going to come to him this time. And when she was ready, she would. He just had to be patient.

  He did know one thing for sure as he got in his car and headed for home: having someone like Alice around was going to be very interesting.

  Eleven

  On her way down to the break room for coffee, Carrie had to pass Rob’s office, and though she had promised herself she wasn’t going to go out of her way to see him unless it was completely necessary, it seemed rude not to stop in and thank him for walking her into her condo last night.

  So instead of going straight down the hall, she hung a sharp right and stepped into the outer office where Mrs. White sat. Only it wasn’t Mrs. White sitting there today. This woman was much younger—in her mid to late forties—and very beautiful. She wore her pale blond hair shoulder-length and pulled back from her face. She was sitting down, but Carrie could see by the long, slender legs encased in cream-colored wool pants that she was tall. Elegant was the first word that came to mind.

  Maybe Mrs. White was out sick and she was a temp from another department.

  “I’m looking for Rob,” Carrie told her.

  “That makes two of us,” the woman said, in a husky voice with a slightly watered-down French accent. “Shall we fight over him?”

  Carrie blinked. Fight over… Was she joking? Who did she think Carrie was?

  The desk phone rang and Carrie waited for her to answer, but she ignored it. Probably not a temp.

  “I just needed to talk to him for a second,” Carrie said. “I can come back.”

  “You’re Caroline Taylor?” the woman said.

  “That’s right.” And who are you? she wanted to say. She was stunningly beautiful. For all Carrie knew, Rob had a thing for older women.

  “I’ve heard so much about you. From Robby and his father. You’re here to save the company?”

  “I’m certainly going to try.” Unsure of what else to say, she told the woman, “When you see Rob, can you tell him…you know, never mind. It wasn’t important.”

  “I was only teasing you. He is with his father. He should be back any minute.” She gestured to the chair opposite the desk. “Sit, wait with me.”

  Before she could decide to stay or leave, Rob walked in.

  He looked from the blonde woman to Carrie and said, “Oh, hi. I see you two have met.”

  “Well, we didn’t actually—”

  “Is your father ready?” the woman asked him.

  “He said to give him a few more minutes.”

  “Always a few more minutes,” she said with a sigh, telling Carrie, “Husbands, they always make you wait.”

  Husbands? If Demitrio was her husband, that meant she had to be Rob’s mother. Carrie never imagined that a woman so fair could give birth to such a dark child. Rob clearly favored his father’s side of the family.

  “I’m sorry, did you need something?” Rob asked Carrie.

  “No.”

  Then why are you here? his look said.

  “I just wanted to talk to you for a second. It’s nothing that can’t wait.” In fact, she never should have come to his office in the first place.

  “You two talk,” Rob’s mother said. “I think I will go see if I can pull Robby’s father away from his work.”

  She stood, and Carrie was right. She was tall—barely an inch shorter than her son. It seemed to be about the only family resemblance Carrie could see. And she must have been older than Carrie thought, unless she’d had Rob when she was twelve.

  “It was nice to meet you,” she said, shaking Carrie’s hand. Then she kissed Rob’s cheek and sauntered out.

  At the risk of sounding like a dope, Carrie said, “Am I correct in assuming that was your mother?”

  “She didn’t tell you who she was?”

  “She just asked me if I wanted to fight over you.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “She has a bizarre sense of humor.”

  Carrie had a sudden, terrifying thought. If Rob’s mom knew who Carrie was, did she also know what they’d done? “She doesn’t know, right?”

  “Know what?”

  Duh. She lowered her voice to a loud whisper, just in case someone happened to be in the hall. “About New Year’s. About you and me.”

  He looked at her funny. “You honestly think I tell my mom about my sexual conquests?”

  “I don’t know—hey, wait. A sexual conquest? Is that what I was?”

  “You know what I mean, and no, I didn’t tell her anything,” he said, looking offended.

  “Sorry. I just thought the French were more open about that kind of thing.”

  Rob sat on the edge of his desk. “She’s not from France. She’s from Quebec.”

  “Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

  “Whatever. Point is, no, I didn’t tell her. I never tell her. As far as I know, she thinks I’m still a virgin.”

  As if. “I’m sure she knows you’re not.”

  He rubbed his hand across the stubble on his cheek. “Did we ever determine why you came to my office? Because I specifically recall your saying that when we’re at work we should pretend not to like each other. Did you change your mind? Did you want to not like me in here for a while?”

  Oh, so tempting…

  “It was something work-related,” she told him. “But I’ve completely forgotten what.”

  He grinned. “I think you just missed me.”

  “As if,” she said, hating that he was right. From now on, no visits to his office unless it really was work-related.

  “Well, when you remember what it was, you know where to find me. Or anything else you might need me for.”

  “Thanks,” she said, and oh, did she wish she could take him up on that.

  * * *

 
Rob sat at the conference table three days later with Will and Al, waiting for Carrie and Grant so they could discuss the data they had been compiling, thinking about what Carrie and Alice had said about nice guys. He wasn’t sure why he found the idea so annoying, but it continued to nag at him.

  “Would you two say I’m a nice guy?” he asked Will and Al.

  “Sure,” Will said.

  “Eh.” Al shrugged. “You’re okay.”

  He shot her a look.

  She grinned and said, “I’m kidding. Of course you’re a nice guy.”

  “Under what circumstances would you consider that a bad thing?”

  Looking confused, Al asked, “Why would that ever be a bad thing?”

  “That’s what I was wondering,” Rob said. “Why would a woman prefer to date a jerk over a nice guy?”

  “Does this have something to do with Carrie?” Will asked.

  Rob blinked. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because of your affair.”

  “Will!” Al said, giving him a shove.

  When Rob got over the shock of his statement, which took a good thirty seconds, he said, “Did Nick or Tony say something to you?”

  “They didn’t have to,” Al said apologetically.

  “Yeah,” Will agreed, “it’s kind of obvious.”

  No way Rob was that transparent. “Obvious how? We hardly say two words to each other.”

  “Exactly,” Will told him.

  “I think what Will is trying to say is that you and Carrie try too hard to act like you don’t like each other. But when you look at each other…”

  “What?” Rob demanded.

  “Major heat.”

  Before Rob could confirm or deny their suspicions, Grant rushed in, still wearing his coat. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was hell this morning.”

  “It’s okay,” Al said. “Carrie isn’t here yet either.”

  “Actually she walked in right after me, so she should be along any minute.” Grant shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the back of his chair. “She probably stopped in her office.”

  “We were just talking about Rob and Carrie’s affair,” Will told him, which earned him another shove from his coworker.

  “What about it?” Grant asked, taking a seat.

  In response to Rob’s blink of surprise, Will said, “Like Al told you, heat.”