by Skylar Kade
Her arms bent protectively in front of her chest, and her wide eyes blindly stared out the door. The pulse in her neck fluttered like a trapped bird and begged him to soothe her.
Knowing she was already on edge, David nonetheless gauged the risk and decided he might be the lesser of two evils at the moment.
He tugged at her hands until they unclenched, then wrapped them around his waist while his arms slid over her shoulders. She shuddered with such tension that he feared she would break apart. Stroking her fiery hair, he smiled as she calmed by degrees.
A few stops from their destination, she let him take her full weight. She wasn’t shaking anymore, and her breathing had slowed significantly.
Carrie tilted her head up at him, eyes suspiciously moist. “Damn you for always having the solution.”
He gave her a wry smile. “I see you, Carrie. I see what you need, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you go without.”
She shook her head and swallowed. “It’s not that simple—”
“Yes, it is.” He reached behind himself, grabbed her hand, and settled it over his heart. For a moment, he let himself pretend she loved him back.
They rode the rest of the way in tense silence, but damned if she didn’t leave her hand right where he’d put it.
Chapter Nine
David used his body as a shield as they swam through the crowd, not letting the overzealous travelers invade Carrie’s space as she valiantly kept her eyes on the ground and away from the imposing walls of the underground stop. She didn’t say a word, not even to marvel, as many riders around them were doing, at the endless escalator from the Metro platform to the surface.
When they broke into the sunlight, she let out a relieved breath and shed her underground tension. She tried to look everywhere at once, absorbing the new environment through questioning eyes. He recognized the look on her face—he saw it every time she watched a show, or she worked through lunch and lost herself in some bit of research.
Her brilliant mind catalogued everything and fit it into her carefully organized perception of the world. He loved watching her think and would have stood on the sidewalk all day if some eager traveler hadn’t bumped her.
She lurched sideways into his chest, and he steadied her, taking advantage of the moment to run his fingers up her arm. “Shall we?”
“All right.” She gathered herself and slipped back into her analytical mode. Her fingers twitched as if she longed to write down her observations as they walked the short block down to one of the best bookstores in the world.
He’d left the DC area to attend college and graduate school. In all those years, he’d only returned a handful of times—on long breaks during his freshman year, for the occasional visit to see his parents and to attend his brother’s memorial dinner.
This store had always been his favorite downtown destination, and he’d made a point to visit every time he’d been back in DC. Though he didn’t have as much time to read as he used to, even being there soothed him. He would go to one of the larger chains if he absolutely had to, but this was His Place.
“Welcome to my secret DC escape.” He couldn’t keep the joy from his voice. He wanted to share this bit of himself with Carrie and hoped she’d lose herself in the bookshelves like he did. With all the books that lined her office and living room, he figured it was a safe assumption.
Her eyes trailed across the outdoor café and stared into the large plate-glass window of the store. Even midday on a Tuesday, the store had a good number of customers. The late-breakfast crowd took advantage of the café’s outdoor seating. The murmur of countless conversations and clinking of silverware filled the air. He soaked it in, willing the liveliness into Carrie.
“It’s gorgeous. I have more books than I could ever read, but that’s never stopped me from buying more.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “I’ve seen your shelves. They’re the only bit of chaos in your space.”
The smile she gave him could have lit the whole Metro system. It curled around his heart and reinforced his determination. When she smiled, he almost couldn’t believe she was the same dead-eyed woman he’d picked up from the airport less than a week ago. This was the woman he was fighting for.
“Are you still hungry?” He threaded his fingers through hers and led her to the entrance.
“Famished.”
After snagging a small bistro table outside so Carrie could people-watch as they ate, they perused the menu and ordered when their waitress appeared.
He stroked Carrie’s hand, hoping she was enchanted enough with their destination to open up to him. “Want to talk about earlier?”
Her attention flickered between him and people walking by on the street. “Not really. But I get the feeling you’re going to wheedle it out of me with your psychological wiles.”
“I’d thought about withholding breakfast, but that’s too much torture, even for me.”
She looked back and cocked her eyebrow at him. “Oh? Good to know you have some limits.”
He gripped her hand. “Very few. You make me a desperate man, Dr. Farrow.”
She started to say something, but stopped as their coffees arrived. “Your food will be out in just a minute, hon.” Their waitress gave him a slow smile and leaned closer, her low-cut shirt giving him a good view of her red-lace bra. “Anything else I can get you?”
Carrie’s nails dug into his palm. Ignoring the waitress, he looked at Carrie instead. “I’m fine, thanks.”
When the waitress left, he gave her hand a squeeze. “Everything okay?”
“Just dandy.” She continued to glare daggers at the woman’s back.
Whether or not she realized what was going on, David recognized jealousy when he saw it—or when it clawed his hand.
When the waitress returned with their food, he lifted Carrie’s hand to his lips and kissed her fingers to set her jealousy to rest. She shifted from frowning at the waitress, to frowning at him.
Their plates clanked onto the table. Never taking his eyes from Carrie, he said, “Thanks. Could we get the check?”
The waitress slapped down a receipt and left.
“What’s wrong with her?” Carrie took her hand back and dug into her eggs and toast.
“I think a little social analysis will answer that for you.”
She paused and stared into the distance. David ate as he watched her process the whole situation.
A smirk lifted the corner of her full, pink lips, and he went hard. The things Carrie did to him.
“That was an evil thing to do, David.” She chuckled and shook her head before returning to her food. “I don’t think she’s used to being ignored.”
“Well, she’s never had to compete against you for attention.”
Carrie froze, a bite of toast halfway to her mouth, then frowned. “I think there must have been variables I didn’t calculate into the equation. What does female competition have to do with it? I concluded you were ignoring her attentions because her blatant show of sexual attraction to many of the men in here heightened your competitive instincts. In many animal societies, a male ignores a female to increase her attraction to him.”
“Seriously? That was your conclusion?” He thunked down his water glass and glared at her. “Jesus.”
She munched on her toast and swallowed. “Okay, enlighten me.”
“Jealousy.” He cocked an eyebrow and waited for her to fit that piece of information into her scenario.
The toast dropped from her hands. “Oh.”
“Exactly.”
He let it sink in. Confusion, frustration, and longing twitched across her face, all finally giving way to lust.
“If you knew what was good for you…” She looked away and swallowed.
“That would be you. I know you’ve got secrets—hell, we all do—but I can’t imagine your past contains secrets so awful it would scare me away.”
Her bitter laugh cut at his heart. “Everyone leaves, David, whether they want
to or not. Relationships are ephemeral, and getting involved is just asking for trouble. It’s not my past I’m worried about, so much as the future.”
He didn’t fear her past, or her future, but those words sure scared him. If getting emotional triggered this kind of reaction from her, he’d keep poking at her—loving her, caring for her—until he got to the bottom of it. She would have to hurt before things got better, like lancing an infected wound.
Although their brunch conversation had given him even more questions to delve into, he thought they were making progress. Each time she shut him out, she opened to him more readily the next time.
She was getting comfortable with him, whether she liked it or not. And if she wasn’t strong enough to face her past alone, he’d forge the path and drag her along with him.
Carrie could only manage half of her food, but that was enough. She was full and overwhelmed by David’s presence. Just when she had his motives figured out, he did something else to throw her.
If he just wanted her body, she could be amenable. She hadn’t yet ruled it out as a possibility, but then he’d say something tender and caring and the whole fuck-buddy scenario seemed laughable. He read her too easily, protected her when she was overwhelmed and held her when she wasn’t brave enough to push him away.
Maybe she was crazy to keep fighting him, but the raw emotions from that morning’s French toast incident proved a stark reminder of why she had to keep her distance.
The waitress, much subdued, cleared their plates and returned the bill and David’s credit card. She intellectually understood what David had done, but didn’t understand why he’d been driven to it.
David would make some woman a wonderful boyfriend, but he clearly desired more than she could offer. From a sociobiological perspective, it didn’t make sense for him to waste his time with a woman who would not be willing to form a relationship with him.
The only conclusion she had reached so far was he’d be crazy to pursue her for any kind of relationship. And David Cameron was as sane as they got.
She pushed away from the table and her chair scraped on the brick sidewalk. “Shall we?” If she was going to have the next days off, she wanted to grab a new book. She hadn’t had leisure-reading time in years.
David followed, settling his hand against her lower back. Through her light blouse, her skin warmed under his hand. She entered the bookstore proper and headed straight for the romance section.
A choked sound from David made her turn, breaking contact with his hand in the process. “Yes?”
“You read romance novels?”
Hands on her hips, she glared at him. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a happy ending every now and then.” She spun, brushed a frustrated hand through her hair and sought out her favorite author.
Paranormal romance was her literary drug of choice. It was so far removed from reality she could suspend her disbelief and live in an optimistic land of romance for a few hours. Scanning the back-cover blurbs until she found the next book in the series she needed to read, Carrie wished she were home in her deep bathtub, with candles and a glass of wine and her book.
In all reality, she’d have to buy the candles and matches and wine opener, then scrub her never-used tub before settling in for her evening, but she could dream.
Isn’t that what Gunnerson wanted her to do, see what she was missing by being bogged down with work?
Just because she didn’t agree with his conclusion didn’t mean she didn’t understand his motivation. As much as a relaxing bath-time scenario drew her, wasn’t that exactly the problem?
If she gave an inch, where would she stop? What would she give up in her career to find balance in her life—and if she did, what living victims would be left without closure? Falling for David or sinking into a more leisurely routine would be too easy. It might be satisfying, at least until reality slapped her in the face. She’d lose David, or lose respect for herself for passing the buck on to another anthropologist.
Her life would have taken a different path, a darker one, if she hadn’t been given some kind of resolution. Where would she be now if the detectives hadn’t caught the drunk driver who killed her father and daughter? No—she’d been lucky to have those answers, and she was compelled to provide the same closure for other victims.
The weary voice of her subconscious asked, When will you have atoned enough? Twenty years? Forty? Never?
She shoved the book back onto the shelf. Until David entered the picture, self-doubt hadn’t reared its ugly head. Though it would be easy to blame him, she had to look at the situation rationally and evaluate the mounting evidence against her current modus operandi.
If only she could get a little perspective, but that wouldn’t happen when David was nearby. His scent wrapped around her a moment before his warm body edged up behind hers. “No books for you?”
She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and scanned the shelves, just to do something other than lean back into him. “I don’t have time to read.”
“What a shame.” His voice danced down her spine. “Have other plans for your time this week? That would certainly bode well for me.”
She spun to face him. “A little arrogant, aren’t we? One day was the deal.”
“Let’s see.” He caged her against the bookshelf. “Based on your wildly fluctuating emotions today, you’ve got some killer thoughts percolating in that big brain of yours. And given that the only new variable is me, I’d say I have you off-kilter.” His lips ended inches from hers. “And you like it. You won’t admit it yet, but this makes you feel alive.”
A puff of breath escaped her lungs, but she couldn’t say a word. Not when his kissable mouth was so close.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
This near, his scent intoxicated her. Maybe getting drunk on him would make things clearer. Or at least take the edge off.
Her thoughts sputtered to a stop when he leaned in for a kiss, laying a too-quick peck on her lips before stepping back and crossing his lean arms across his chest. “If you’re not going to get a book, let’s go. We’ve got stuff to do, places to be, people to watch.”
That peck inflamed her hunger like a decadent gourmet truffle in front of a starving woman. In her distracted haze, she obeyed. Though agonizing in its own way, this hunger was easier than the confusion.
The cashier rang up the bookmark David insisted on buying and made small talk with him, which elicited quicksilver smiles from David that made her stomach churn with longing.
It wouldn’t kill her to give in just a little, would it? Friends with benefits would satisfy her lust for him—and yes, make her feel alive—without any of the ugly long-term commitments that would distract from her career.
True, she wasn’t quite on her game, but it sounded like a rational solution to all of her problems. She just had to figure out how to best propose her plan.
Feeling more settled now that she had a designated course of action, she followed David out of the store. “Thank you for breakfast. And for introducing me to your favorite bookstore.”
He cocked his eyebrow. “You’re welcome.” He stared at her, letting the silence draw out as pedestrians wove around them on the sidewalk.
She slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans to keep them away from his hard chest. “You were right. I was all over the place today. And you’ve been very patient.”
He shifted his long, appealing body until he leaned against the wrought-iron fence of the café. “And what brought on this revelation?”
She couldn’t talk about this while he stared at her. She grabbed his hand and started walking to diffuse some of the tension of his steady gaze.
“I have very good reasons for being alone.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. “But I’ve felt more alive today than I have in a long time. I just couldn’t reconcile the two.”
“But you have now?” They stopped at a crosswalk, and she counted down with the pedestrian signal, wa
iting for their turn to cross.
A nod was all she could manage in response, until she was walking again. All this interpersonal stuff wasn’t exactly her forte, and knowing it was David’s area of expertise only put her at more of a disadvantage. She itched to keep moving, if only for the distraction.
At last they were cleared to cross. She forged ahead into the intersection with David at her side. “I have a proposition. Something I think would satisfy both our needs while keeping reasonable barriers.”
Once they were back on the sidewalk, David tugged her down a side street where the sounds of traffic didn’t compete with their conversation. “Are we going to walk all of DC before you spill this plan?”
Taking a deep breath of the muggy summer air, she braced for his rejection and exhaled out her suggestion before she lost her nerve. “Friendswithbenefits.”
He stuttered to a stop, hand on her elbow. “Come again?”
“You heard me.” She dared a look at him. A lock of hair drooped across his forehead, and his brow was furrowed in thought. She wanted to kiss away the frown lines, but bit the inside of her cheek instead and waited for his reaction.
“Jesus, Care. Do you know what you’re proposing?” He shoved a hand through his sandy hair and his arm muscles shifted under his shirt.
Since she had given herself permission to take things to a physical level, she couldn’t stop admiring his body. He was so optimally put together she couldn’t help herself. “I’m perfectly aware of the social conventions surrounding the friends-with-benefits arrangement. It’s quite perfect for us.”
A growl curled from his lips. “Okay…say I bite. You really think this would help you?”
She nodded. “You were right when you said I was more alive spending time with you. I simply felt conflicted because your presence presented too large a potential disruption of my life. But if we keep our relationship strictly platonic, aside from sex, that’s no longer a risk.”
He invaded her space to wrap his arms around her waist and lock her against his hips. “Fine.” When he bit off the words, his lips brushed against her ear. Tingles sprouted from that point of contact. “I hope you’re prepared for what you’ve just unleashed. I’ve been playing nice, but now that I know your sweet body is fair game, the only thing I’ll be thinking about all day is getting inside you, making you scream my name over and over.”