Not Since You

by Jared, Jenna

  The tab on the soda can broke off in the girl's fingers. Plink. "I didn't know that."

  "It's true." Carrie nodded. "In an accident." She sighed, remembering. "I was so scared, my first day of school here. I felt awkward, you know? Like a freak. An orphan freak who lived with her Nana." Even now, a lump rose in Carrie's throat.

  Samantha nodded. "People treated me differently."

  "Exactly. Adults did. They were too nice because they felt bad for you. But kids…"

  "They treated you like there was something wrong with you."

  "And there was. I was different. I didn't have a mom or a dad."

  "At least I have my dad." Samantha's eyes locked with Carrie's. They were on common ground. "I don't mean to be nosy or anything, Carrie. Really. I just—don't want him to get hurt. You know. Like, you're going to be leaving again, once you sell this place, and he'll be all alone. I'm going away to college in the fall… I'm just afraid for him."

  "He's a strong guy. I'm sure you don't have to worry, Samantha."

  "I know he is." She sighed. "I think you hurt him before, when you left, and I just don't want it to happen again. I mean, last time you left, he had my mom. Then she died, and he had me. Now I'm leaving and…" Samantha shook her head. "I bet you think I'm an idiot."

  "I think—I think you not only look like your mom, I think you act like her, too." Carrie reached out and touched the girl's hand. "She was always sensitive to other people's feelings, too. She was the first person to be my friend when I moved here, the first one who treated me like I didn't have a disease they'd catch."

  "Dad says I'm just a pushover." Samantha dropped the tab onto the table and lifted the can to her mouth.

  "And he's not?" Carrie laughed. "He thinks he has to solve everyone's problems."

  "Yeah. I guess so." Samantha nodded, then lowered her brows over her eyes. "I guess I'm doing that, too."

  It was Carrie's turn to quirk her brows. "You're right." She grinned. "There you go, then. You're just a sympathetic worrywart who feels like she needs to solve everyone's problems. Just like your dad."

  "Great." The girl rolled her eyes. "No wonder I'm going to major in social work."

  They looked at each other and laughed. Carrie reached over and touched Samantha's hand again. "Listen, worrywart. Feel like giving an old lady a hand with some wallpaper? I tried to do the upstairs hall yesterday, and the paper kept rolling over my head and getting stuck in my hair."

  "Sure. But on one condition."

  "What's that?" Carrie pushed her chair back and stood. Anything but telling you about your conception.

  "Tell me about Dad when he was younger." Samantha got to her feet. The dog leapt up and waited, tail wagging. "Was he a hottie?"

  Carrie couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from her chest. Ah, the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree…

  *****

  Four hours later, the upstairs hall was papered and Carrie's sides ached. She hadn't laughed so hard since she was seventeen herself. With Sarah.

  Wise girl that Samantha was, she didn't push for any more information about the odd triangle Carrie kept with her parents. It was as if she knew Carrie wasn't ready to talk. Or not able. And Carrie wasn't going to—not until she'd cleared the topic with Zack, knew what to say and how to say it. But at the same time, Samantha wasn't about to give up on her other task: hooking Zack up with the woman he appeared to love.

  As they walked down the stairs with El Beast on their heels, Samantha said, "You have to come over tonight. It's pizza night."

  Carrie felt a twinge of anxiety. She wasn't ready to make herself a part of Mahoney family traditions. Not yet, and maybe not ever. She was moving back to Texas. She didn't want to break Zack's heart again, any more than she wanted to break her own. "I don't know, Sam…"

  "Oh, come on. Dad will freak. Picture it. Big jock, Captain Zack, wearing a frilly apron over his uniform—how can you refuse?" Samantha grinned. "You can bring El Beast. Maybe she'll dig in the garden and you can watch Dad have a coronary over his tomatoes."

  "Samantha! That's not nice!" Carrie felt another round of giggles starting deep in her belly. She tried to quell them, tightening her mouth. "Don't tell me you deliberately try to get a rise out of him." Carrie bit her lip.

  "All. The. Time. It's the most fun I'm allowed to have. Come on, Carrie. Please. For me. Come over and eat pizza with us. I won't tell him—he'll get all flustered." She paused at the bottom of the stairs and tilted her head. "You should wear those shorts."

  Carrie looked down at the ragged-bottomed cutoffs. "These?"

  "Uh-huh. They're super short. All you need is the right shirt." The girl turned on her heel and pounded back up the stairs.

  Carrie followed. "I didn't even say I would… Samantha? Where are you going?"

  The girl poked her head over the railing and peered down at her, flinging Carrie back in time once more. "We are getting you dressed—"

  *****

  "—to knock Zack Mahoney's socks off," Sarah said, and grinned.

  Carrie's heart skidded to a halt, banged on the wall of her chest and flew up into her throat, where it resumed beating. Hard. "Sarah! I—I can't!"

  "What do you mean, you can't? He likes you, you like him—so what's the problem?" Sarah called over her shoulder as she moved into Carrie's bedroom.

  "He's going with Tiffany, for one thing." Carrie followed, dragging her feet.

  "He is not. You know that. Not after last week, he's not." Sarah dug through her bureau drawers, shaking out shirts, holding them up, then tossing them over her shoulder onto the bed. "We have got to go shopping, girl. Your ensemble is pathetique."

  So am I. "Oui," Carrie agreed. "Pathetique." She paused. "Is that even a word in French?"

  "I dunno. I take Italian. This is cute. Here. Try this on." Sarah held out a gauzy-looking black tank top. "We'll steal some of your Nana's rosary beads, and if we put your hair in a banana clip, you'll look just like Madonna. Put on that big belt and those black patent leather spikes with your new jeans. He'll want to jump you."

  "I don't—" Carrie bit her lip and took the tank top. "Never mind." When Sarah got an idea in her head, it was impossible to stop her.

  *****

  Apparently, her daughter was the same way. "I don't know, Samantha. Do you really think I should wear that shirt? It's practically see-through."

  El Beast, lying on the bed, suddenly began wagging her tail. "Wuff."

  Samantha rolled her eyes. "That's the idea, Carrie. You want to lead his mind to…you know."

  Leading Zack's mind to you know wasn't the problem. It was leading his mind away from you know that bothered her.

  "Let's do your makeup. You've got the most incredible eyes. They're not blue, they're not gray. They're just cool." The girl put her hand under Carrie's chin and lifted it so she could see her eyes better. "You should get your eyebrows waxed. Come on. We're going to make you so hot, Dad won't be able to keep his hands off you."

  Carrie felt a shiver as Samantha unintentionally echoed words Sarah had uttered so long ago in a similar situation about the same man. Suddenly, Carrie looked at Samantha through her mother's eyes. Sarah! I'm so sorry, Sarah. I was so wrong. I was such a bitch. I shouldn't have ignored you. I should have trusted you—you never would have hurt me, and I hurt you, so, so much. I'm so sorry Zack never loved you, and I'm so sorry for everything. You deserved more…

  "Don't worry about it, Carrie." Samantha leaned close and gave her a quick, unexpected hug. "Everything will be all right."

  A weight lifted from Carrie's heart. She'd been absolved.

  Chapter Eight

  "Holy—" Shit. Zack nearly dropped his zucchini. "Carrie?"

  Carrie blushed and nodded. "Hi." She dropped her gaze, shy as a girl, standing in his kitchen doorway in short-shorts and a white V-neck top that clung to her breasts and showed off more cleavage than he'd ever remembered her having. He imagined what it would be like to draw his tongue over the soft,
rounded globes, to push away the fabric and reveal her naked flesh to his gaze and his touch… Easy there, Zack. He pushed the images away. Still, his heart tripped in his chest like a runaway locomotive.

  She licked her shiny pink lips and blinked, her eyes appearing larger than usual, more luminous. Wide, dilated, as if she was aroused.

  He wondered what his eyes looked like. Carrie fiddled with some loose strands of hair, pulled up into some kind of woman's hair comb-clip thing. He wished he could undo it, push his fingers through the gold and brown strands, and muss it up with a long, strenuous session of serious passion…

  "Samantha invited me for dinner. Is that okay?"

  "Yes. Sure. I'm—yes." Get hold of yourself, Zack. You're babbling. "You look… I mean… Wow." Good. Much better. Idiot.

  Carrie smiled. "Samantha dressed me this way."

  "And it was fun." Samantha moved past her, pushing her into the kitchen and out of the doorway with her hip. "Hi, Dad. Pizza crust ready yet?" She turned to Carrie. "He grills it, you know." She seemed so blithe, and he knew that she'd been scheming, playing matchmaker.

  She did a good job. I'm ready to jump Carrie already.

  Shut up, he told himself. That's not true. Besides, how do you know Carrie wants to be jumped? He turned to Samantha. "So that's where you've been all day. With Carrie?"

  "Yep. We've been getting to know each other." Samantha opened the fridge and pulled out the pitcher of iced tea. "Ooh, you put mint in it. Cool, Dad. Thanks." She busied herself getting glasses and ice.

  Zack turned to look at Carrie, wondering how much of each other's lives they'd exchanged. "You have?"

  "She helped me paper the upstairs hall. And other stuff." Carrie plucked at her blouse.

  "I'm trying to convince her not to move back to Texas. Tea, Carr?" Sam began pouring her iced tea.

  Carrie gave him a nearly imperceptible shrug. No matter what Samantha thought, Carrie still wasn't sold on staying here. "Sure," she answered his daughter.

  Samantha poured tea into glasses. "She's been telling me the most interesting things about you. And Mom."

  Fear flushed through him. Like what? What did you hear? Had Carrie told her too much? Samantha was very intuitive. You had to be careful—she easily drew connections. She'd make a hell of a detective if she wasn't so bent on going into social work. "What kind of interesting things?"

  "Oh, you know…like the fact that you were the hottest guy in high school."

  "I—I was?"

  Carrie grinned. "Well, Sarah and I thought so."

  He breathed a sigh of relief. For now, anyway. "What else did she tell you?"

  "Other things." Samantha handed Carrie a glass of iced tea—she hadn't poured one for him, he noticed, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad sign. Either she and Carrie had really bonded, or she was angry at him because…she knew he'd kept the truth of her paternity a secret.

  Would Carrie tell her the truth?

  And if she did…what would he do?

  Zack turned to the counter and picked up the zucchinis. "I thought I'd slice these up thin and put them on the pizza with some fresh tomato slices and basil leaves, garlic and some mozzarella. What do you think?"

  "Sounds boring." Samantha plunked into a kitchen chair.

  "Sounds healthy," he insisted.

  His daughter made a face. "Huh. What do you think, Carrie?"

  "I think I'll stay out of this." Carrie laughed lightly. She came up behind him and he could almost feel the warmth of her body against his even though she was at least four feet away.

  He shivered. Carrie-da, in my kitchen.

  "If you'd like, I'll slice the zucchini while you do the tomato," she said.

  "Sounds like a plan." He pulled another knife out of the block and moved to the side so she could share the countertop-wide cutting board with him. "What do you like to cook?"

  "To be honest, I usually eat something that I can nuke in five minutes or less." She picked up the zucchini. "This is one big veggie."

  "I grew it myself," he said.

  "Really?" She picked it up, gripping it in her fingers. "You grow one very impressive zucchini, Zack Mahoney."

  "You have no idea," he murmured.

  Once upon a time, a comment like that would have made Carrie blush and stutter. But this was an older, more experienced Carrie. She tilted her head and pursed her shiny pink lips, and her eyes twinkled with a seductive gleam. "I think I do."

  Dear God. She did. An eighteen-year-old's only-once-in-the-back-of–a-car idea, but it sounded as if she was game to get an update. He gave himself a mental high-five. "After dinner, I could show you…" He peered over his shoulder; Samantha sat, flipping through the mail, pretending not to listen. He lowered his voice until only Carrie could hear him. "I could show you my other zucchini."

  "You have other zucchini? Bigger?" She drew her fingers lightly up and down the phallus-shaped vegetable. "Intriguing. How much bigger?"

  "Big enough to satisfy…the greatest hunger."

  "I'm pretty hungry, Zack." Her voice was a breathy growl that gave him goose bumps.

  "Me too." He let his gaze drop to the rounded tops of her breasts; now that she was closer, he could make out the sheer, peachy color of her bra. It made him think of that time in the car, the one time they'd made love, and how sexy she'd looked in her lacy lingerie.

  He bit back a groan. "I haven't…eaten…in a very long time."

  "Me, either." She stared up at him; her gaze dropped to his mouth.

  The sound of a cell phone's ring made them spring apart. Zack spun around to see Samantha bring her phone to her ear. "Hi. Oh. I think I could. I don't know…it's pizza night. Let me see if my dad would mind." She dropped the phone. "It's a friend of mine. From school. She wants to know if I can go out. I'll be back at around…eleven thirty. Okay?" She stood up, without waiting for Zack to respond, and hurried out of the kitchen. In moments, the front door closed and they heard her pulling out of the driveway. He turned to Carrie.

  Her face was red, but her eyes still twinkled. "That was the worst acting job I've ever seen. She made her phone ring."

  "I don't blame her." Zack felt his own hot blush. "That must have been pretty awful, watching your dad exchange double-entendres with a woman who's not your mom."

  "I don't know about that," Carrie answered. "Seems to me that's why she brought me here." She looked at the zucchini, still in her hand. "So…we were talking about your…zucchini." Her voice turned velvety. "Are you going to show it to me?"

  His cock responded instantly, rising to the occasion like Lazarus. "I keep it upstairs. In my room," he said, his voice husky.

  She blinked and shook her head. "No. Not in your bedroom. I—I can't. Not there."

  He suddenly understood. His bedroom was Sarah's bedroom, and the bed there was one they'd shared. "Okay then…how about…my hot tub? I had it installed just last year."

  "Hmmmm…I didn't bring a bathing suit," Carrie purred, dropping the vegetable on the counter. She reached out and drew her hand across his chest; he shivered, and his uniform pants grew tight as his erection pressed against the zipper.

  "Good. Because I don't own one," he said, and dropped his mouth to hers. She had the perfect mouth, soft and pliant. He'd missed the feel of it, the taste of it, and the way she responded to him. Carrie-da… He loved kissing her.

  She slid her hands from his neck, and he felt them tugging at the knot of the apron around his waist. She pulled away from his kiss. "Zack…why are you wearing this? Do you know Samantha makes fun of it?"

  "She gave it to me." He smiled. "When she was three. Besides, I like my apron. It keeps my uniform clean so I don't have to change right away when I get home." He reached around to untie the knot at his lower back.

  Carrie cocked an eyebrow at him. "All right. I won't tease you about it, but only because it's got sentimental value. But I don't think the color is a good one for you."

  "Pink is the new masculine color. Besides, i
t's got a strawberry for a pocket. It matches the kitchen."

  "And it's got a ruffle. Take the damn thing off and shut up, Mahoney." She pulled it from his hands and tossed it on the counter. He reached for her, but Carrie dodged him, reaching for his belt with a wicked look in her luminous eyes. She licked her pouty lips and he stilled, letting her undo the buckle. In moments, she had his pants undone; he felt himself grow incredibly hard. When her fingers wrapped around him, his head swam. He gripped the edge of the counter.

  "Now this is an impressive zucchini," she said, falling to her knees to slide his clothing down over his legs, never taking her silvery eyes from his cock. It seemed to lengthen even more under her hot gaze, bobbing to attention. She looked up at him, cupping his balls with one gentle hand. "I wonder how it tastes?" She licked her lips. Zack's knees grew weak. He gripped the top of a nearby chair with his free hand so he didn't fall.

  "Unh," he said. I can't talk. My brain. It's not…it's not working. He swallowed—his mouth was so dry. Carrie leaned forward, her hot breath brushing against the sensitive heaviness of his length. Ohgodohgodoh… He inhaled sharply as the moist velvet of her mouth wrapped around him. Her tongue, hot and mobile, flicked over the tip of him and trailed down the sensitive line on the underside of his cock, then back up. She peered up at him, mischief in her eyes. Slowly, she began sliding her mouth back down.

  He goggled as he suddenly realized that she was going to take all of him into her mouth. It wasn't possible. He was too big. She'd choke. But she opened her mouth wide and kept going, her throat muscles working rhythmically as she swallowed his length. Zack moaned and grabbed the counter with his other hand as his knees grew weak. Carrie gagged, but, to her credit, she kept working at it and suddenly, his entire self was buried in her mouth and throat. It was…impossible.

  But it wasn't. She drew her mouth up his length until his head perched on her lips. Carrie flicked her tongue over it, then started the long slide back to its base. And again. Faster, then faster still. He gripped the counter and chair so hard, his fingers cramped, but he had to. He was going to fall.

  He was going to come. "Carrie, stop. I'm going to—"