by Cathryn Cade
Now he laughed. “I’ll wear a suit.”
“You don’t have to,” she assured him. “Just a blazer and slacks.”
She knew whatever he wore, he’d look fabulous and she’d be the envy of most of the women there. This prospect was not as much fun as it could have been. They said good-bye, she clicked off her phone and put her hand to her eyes, pressing hard against the hot ache behind them.
She’d hoped that maybe she’d be seeing Jake in a blazer and slacks on one of these occasions. She suspected he didn't dress up much, so he’d have to go out and have some dress clothes tailored to his unusual size, but he’d look really hot.
Saturday evening, Dack suggested to Jake that they go for a beer before the club opened. Jake sure as hell had nothing better to do. They went to Monroe’s, sat at the bar and had a good beer, which might as well have been water as far as Jake was concerned. Then they hopped back in Dack’s truck and headed out.
Jake noticed they weren’t driving toward the club. “You got an errand?”
Dack nodded. “You could say that.”
Then Jake noticed they were on a familiar street. “What the fuck?”
“Hang on,” was all Dack said.
They stopped on the street outside the parking lot of Carlie’s apartment building. Jake tagged her apartment with his gaze, foreboding tightening his gut. He was so used to living on his roller coaster of hope and loss for the last several days that if Dack had brought him here to watch her with some stranger, it might very well take him down.
Then he stared as she walked out in a green dress with a wide vee neckline and short, fluttery sleeves, her hair up, a smile on her face. A familiar man followed her out, then turned to lock her door. Fuck. It was Trace, wearing a blue shirt, black slacks and gray blazer, a big smile on his face too. He put her key in his pocket, then took her arm and walked her down the stairs in the evening sunlight. Jake watched her graceful walk, the swing of her hips, her long legs under the edge of her skirt, the way she reached up to push back a lock of hair as the evening breeze caught it, blew it across her face.
The couple reached Trace’s car; he said something that made her laugh. Then he helped her in, closed her door and walked around the back. As he did so, he turned his head, tagged Dack’s truck and gave them a casual salute before continuing on around to get in.
Dack put his truck in gear and drove on, not saying a word. That was good, because grabbing him and strangling him with Jake’s bare hands would not be good in the midst of all this traffic. Probably cause a wreck. So would smashing his fist through the side window of Dack’s truck, through which he’d watched her with another man.
By the time they reached the club, Jake finally managed to ask, “So what was the deal there? You and Trace obviously set this up.”
Dack shook his head. “Not whatever you’re thinking, man. She has a company thing—dinner and drinks. Didn’t want to go stag after what happened last time, even though you took care of the jerk. So she asked Trace, as a friend.”
Jake stared unseeingly at the solid, graceful lines of the old house that was now Club 3. Saw instead his woman, smiling and laughing with one of his best friends, his brothers. Depression washed over him, cutting away the anger. She hadn’t trusted him to do that for her.
“Should’ve been me,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Dack agreed quietly.
Jake shook his head and opened the truck door. “Just hope you’re not waitin’ for me to thank you.”
Dack snorted. “No. If you wake the fuck up, that’ll be all the thanks I need.”
As they walked across the parking lot, Jake spoke again. “I’m tryin’ to get through to her. Not sure it’s gonna work, but I’m tryin’.”
Dack squeezed his shoulder once in silent support, and they walked into the club.
Later that night, Trace sauntered into the club’s main room, where Jake was on floor duty, standing near the entrance, keeping an eye on the dance floor and the bar. Jake’s eyes cut to Trace, but he didn’t move. Didn’t trust himself.
Had Trace touched her? Given her one of those kisses she liked so much? The thought of any other man touching those soft, lush lips of hers made his blood boil.
Trace walked over to stand beside him. They stood in silence for a while, scanning the crowd. Finally, Trace spoke. “She wanted a friend at her side while she dealt with what happened at the last company outing. Asked me, I agreed. Enjoyed myself. She’s a lot of fun.”
“You might wanna shut up now,” Jake commented.
Trace didn’t shut up, but what he said next galvanized Jake. “Has another event next weekend. Formal at the Revillion. Her boss’s anniversary, his wife loves to dress up and remember their wedding, which was formal.”
Jake couldn’t stop the question. “She ask you to go to that too?”
“As a friend. I’m thinking, could be you if you make an effort.”
“I’m tryin’.” Jake rubbed one hand over his face. “Jesus fuck, don’t know what else to do.”
Trace watched him.
Jake dug deep, struggled for absolute honesty. Trace had done a lot to care for Carlie through this, and he’d done it in a way that didn’t shove Jake aside but left the way open for him to get back in when she was ready.
“I’m tryin’ to fix things, but at the same time, I’m worried about getting in too deep,” he admitted. “This thing with her, it’s different, you know? I never felt like this about another woman, another sub. I feel… Shit, I don’t know, vulnerable. And now I sound like a fuckin’ talk-show candidate.”
Trace didn’t laugh. Instead, he put a warm hand on Jake’s shoulder and squeezed. “Might want to think about why you were able to hurt her so badly.”
Then he walked away, leaving Jake standing alone in the midst of raucous dancers, partiers, two people engaged in heavy petting at the table before him, Mase out on the dance floor entertaining the other dancers with his version of the Bump with a naked, giggling sub.
The song changed to a slow love song, one that would usually have Jake shaking his head and walking away, making a round upstairs.
But this time he stood riveted as Bruno Mars sang, heartbreak in every note of his pure voice, “When I Was Your Man”. This time, Jake felt the lyrics clear to his own heart. Jesus, this was what he was reduced to, listening to sad love songs and understanding them.
And he knew that just like the singer, he’d do anything it took to get Carlie back. Because his life was worth fuck-all without her. And maybe, just maybe Trace had been telling him she felt the same. That it would be worth every bit of fear for him to open up, make himself vulnerable to her. Because she would care for that, the same way she was so willing to care for his sexual desires.
Mondays seemed to be Carlie’s day for surprises. The next Monday, Carlie got a phone call. Not from her mother, with whom she’d finally spoken—a stilted, polite conversation in which they’d pretty much said nothing of import. But Carlie was not giving an inch this time. Her mother had not only continued her guerrilla war on Carlie’s self, she’d brought Tiffany into the battle.
This phone call was from Tiffany herself.
“Hello,” Carlie said cautiously.
“Hi, Carlie. I’d like us to meet for lunch one day this week. Tuesday and Thursday are good for me.”
Carlie thought for a moment. Then she sighed. Might as well get this over with. “I could do Tuesday.”
“Great,” Tiff said immediately. “The Revillion Grill? It will give me a chance to try their butterfly shrimp. We’re thinking of those for one of the appetizers.”
“Okay. See you there, and thanks for the invitation.”
Carlie wasn’t thrilled about having to drive clear to downtown Portland and back in lunchtime traffic, so she finally decided to take Tuesday afternoon as vacation time. Since she arrived early and had everything done by eleven-thirty, she walked out of the office with a clear conscience, if not smiling.
She
walked into the Revillion a little late, due to a tie-up on the Sunset Highway. She’d also ducked into the restroom to wash her hands and fix her lipstick. She wore her coral boat-neck sheath, with tiny cap sleeves that showed off her fit arms, and a skirt that hit just above her knees. With bone sandals, her hair swept back in a ponytail to reveal her coral dangle earrings, and a cute and silly flowered clutch purse she’d found at a craft fair the summer before, she felt stylish and confident. It didn’t hurt that she’d had no appetite lately. She’d used extra concealer to hide the tired shadows under her eyes.
Her steps faltered when she saw that Tiffany, a slim figure in an emerald green sleeveless dress, was not alone at her window table. Carlie’s mother sat with her, chatting animatedly while Tiffany listened. Paula wore a coffee-hued dress and her pearls, a little cream jacket over the back of her chair.
Pasting a smile on her face, Carlie walked to their table. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Tiff.”
She touched cheeks with both of them and sat at the chair beside her mother, across from Tiffany. Her brother’s fiancée was chic as always in a tiny knit wrap dress that set off her tan, her brunette hair sleek and straight, huge gold hoops in her ears and Seth’s diamond flashing on her left hand. Carlie noticed she used that hand to hold her water glass. Oh, well, what girl wouldn’t want to show off a rock like that?
Paula sat very straight in her chair, practically vibrating with tension, a bright smile on her face as she looked between the two younger women. “Isn’t this nice? My two girls.”
“Wonderful.” Carlie picked up her own water glass, caught Tiffany’s eye and for an instant thought she saw the same wry humor she was feeling at her mother’s determined cheer. Then Tiffany looked away, and it was gone.
The three of them chatted until the waitress had taken their orders. Carlie decided Tiffany’s butterfly shrimp sounded good, with iced tea. Paula ordered grilled salmon salad.
When the waitress had walked away, Tiffany set her water glass down and tossed her hair back. Then she looked at Carlie. “This lunch was my idea,” she said. “Seth and I talked. It seems a remark I made to Paula was misinterpreted. What I said was that I would love to have you join the wedding party, but that Stacy’s bridesmaid dress would not fit you, as she’s very thin, and has absolutely no breasts at all, poor thing. You know she’s anorexic.” Carlie blinked at the casual pity in Tiffany’s voice. Seemed there was no love lost between Tiff and the absent Stacy.
Then the impact of Tiffany’s words hit her. Tiffany hadn’t said Carlie needed to lose weight. It had been Paula who twisted the other girl’s words. Carlie’s gaze shot to her mother, who was sitting very still in her chair, a smile frozen on her carefully made-up face as she darted looks back and forth between Carlie and Tiffany.
“I’m so sorry Paula misunderstood me,” Tiffany went on with a little moue of sweet understanding, her small hand with glittering ring over Paula’s. “I would not for the world have offended you, Carlie. After all, we are going to be sisters. I’ve always wanted a sister, and now I’m getting Seth and you.”
Wow. Holy freaking wow. Tiffany had just thrown her future mother-in-law under the bus. And she had done it with grace and aplomb, while holding Paula’s hand to show she had only the best intentions. Carlie was rethinking her assessment of Seth’s fiancée. Not only was she smart, she wasn’t going to put up with any of Paula’s brand of bull-doody.
Paula moved quickly to regain her ground as sweet, helpful mother and future MIL. “I’m so, so sorry,” she said, tears standing in her eyes, one hand to her pearls. “Tiffany, Carlie honey, I certainly didn’t mean to cause trouble between you two. You know I was only trying to help.”
Carlie reached to pat her mother’s arm. “I know, Mom. It’s okay.”
Then she grinned at Tiffany. “Sounds like we’ve been playing telephone, like we did in elementary school, remember? You whispered in the ear of the person next to you, then they did, and by the time it got around the circle it was never the same words you’d started with.”
Tiffany went along with her. “Yes, it does. I never liked that game.”
The waitress arrived at this moment with their lunches, to Carlie’s relief. She was pretty sure Paula and Tiffany were also ready to be done with their little heart-to-heart. Yikes.
Carlie didn’t know what Tiffany thought of the butterfly shrimp, but with a crisp salad with sweet-and-sour Asian dressing topped with sliced almonds and tiny mandarin orange slices, Carlie’s was delicious. Tiffany nibbled on her meal, chatting.
“Carlie, you’ll need to go to the bridal shop and have a fitting. We’ll have a new bridesmaid dress in your size sent express mail, as soon as you’ve been measured.”
Carlie nodded, repressing the urge to roll her eyes. The wedding was still months away, so why the hurry?
“I know it’s early,” Tiffany explained serenely. “But I like to have things taken care of ahead of time, so I can relax.”
Carlie nodded again, this time with realization. Seth was that way too. She wondered if that would work for them, if their life would go according to a carefully orchestrated schedule, with two-point-five children arriving exactly on time and playing quietly with their educational toys while their parents planned which college they’d attend.
Herself, she preferred to be a bit more spontaneous. Or let someone else be in charge of some things, a wicked voice whispered in her ear. Like Jake.
At this, her appetite gone, she set down her fork and picked up her iced tea. And of course that was when Tiffany asked another question. “Will you be bringing a date to the wedding, Carlie? We have you down for two people, of course.”
Carlie nodded. “Yes, I’m sure—I mean, I will. Definitely.”
She just wasn’t sure who it would be. Maybe, just possibly Jake Stone. That was, if he continued his campaign to show her he was not only an über-sexy dom, but a good man, one who struggled with influences from his past just as she did.
One of her own was sitting beside her, trying her best to patch up the damage she’d done in her relationship with her daughter and her future daughter-in-law. Carlie listened with wry fondness as Paula animatedly extolled the virtues of crab puffs in the selection of wedding hors d’oeuvres.
Her mother really did mean well, but she operated from her own world view. If Carlie wanted their relationship to be a good one, she needed to react not as the child she’d been, but as the adult she was now.
She’d have to do the same with Jake, too. He’d insulted her, but she’d reacted not as a strong woman, but like the shy teen she’d once been. He couldn’t have known his words would produce such a devastating result. Probably thought she’d storm off with another man, thus bringing his bitter imaginings to life—a self-fulfilling prophecy.
He was not only a dom, he was a strong-willed man. She might choose to give him control in the bedroom and at the club, but if she let him steamroll her emotionally, that wouldn’t be good.
Carlie took a sip of iced tea and listened with half an ear as Tiffany and Paula chatted about the wedding menu. She contrasted this moment, lunch in an upscale restaurant, the three of them in chic dresses and accessories, with what Jake had told her about his mother. She curled her hands into fists in her lap.
She at least understood her own mother. Wrapped up in her fantasy of perfection, Paula was positive the way to happiness for Carlie was to be slim and marry a guy from the right social set. It had worked for her; it would work for her daughter.
But Carlie would never understand how a parent could neglect a child the way Jake’s mother had. He deserved so much better.
Would Jake ever be able to get beyond that version of reality? Ever trust that his mother had been the worst possible version of a wife and mother, the opposite of everything Carlie believed in?
She blinked, realizing that she’d been thinking of Jake, marriage and parenthood in the same category. Holy handcuffs, Batman, that was enough to make her want to wave the waitress down a
nd demand something stronger than iced tea.
She wasn’t even sure she should have sex with Jake again, much less anything more. He was like a giant magnet, pulling her to him, making her want him more than she’d ever wanted another man. But the power of their attraction combined with their pasts could end in something wonderful, or end up damaging both of them beyond repair.
Because Jake wasn’t the only one who could screw up. She was human too. What if she channeled the worst of her mother and hurt him the way he’d hurt her?
Maybe neither of them was ready for this. Maybe they should just end it now, before hearts broke.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Carlie stood in the hallway between her bedroom and her sitting room, phone to her ear.
It was Saturday evening, six forty-five.
She wore a new gown, a slithery swoop of silver satin that draped from the halter top down over her breasts in a waterfall effect, baring her shoulders and a bit of cleavage. It hugged her waist and hips, then fell straight to just above the floor. From her ears hung silver earrings made of gathered fine chains of silver that hung down to brush her shoulders, shimmering like water when she moved. They’d looked ridiculous on the rack but perfect with the dress. On her feet were silver sandals she’d purchased three summers ago on sale, worn once, but kept because, although silly, they were cute with little straps that ran up around her ankles and a twist over the toes. Her nails were deep pink.
The dress had not been on sale. From the evening wear section at Nordstrom’s, it had cost a lot, but she’d fallen in love with it the moment she put it on and purchased it as a pick-me-up gift to herself. The purchase took her savings/checking account uncomfortably near the cushion that she never touched. However, her bills were paid, she had a fat 401K and Monday was payday, so she bought it.
Daisy was on the other end of the phone line. Carlie had already spoken to Trace, who had told her cheerfully that her date would be there in a little while. She’d just processed his odd choice of words when he hung up. Next, Sara called to tell her to have a wonderful time, and remember to just go with the flow and enjoy herself.