Scandalous Passion. Emilie Rose
disgust. “Figures. I pick my dates up and I see them back to their door…unless they spend the night with me.”
A nerve beneath her right eye twitched—a telltale sign of stress she’d never been able to conquer. “That will not be the case. I’ll meet you here and then you can see me back to my car door.”
His mouth set in a militant line and he looked ready to argue, but then he acquiesced with a sharp nod. “Fine. Six.”
Her heart stuttered. One battle won, but certainly not the war. Phoebe Lancaster Drew, what have you gotten yourself into?
He’d expected Phoebe to chicken out. Instead she arrived thirty-three minutes early.
Carter lowered the dumbbell to the floor and wiped the sweat from his face with a towel. The slamming of his heart had nothing to do with his strenuous workout and everything to do with the slender woman striding up his front walk. The knowledge didn’t please him.
It had been a bitch of a day—mainly because he couldn’t keep his mind off tonight. Jes, his executive assistant, had threatened to quit if Carter didn’t stop barking commands. Jes had claimed it was bad enough he was working on a Sunday to finish a last-minute proposal. Finally, Carter had left work and come home to take out his frustration on his free weights. He descended the stairs from his upstairs workout room and opened the door before Phoebe could ring the bell.
Her dark brows lifted as she inspected his sweaty workout tank and shorts. She tilted her head and firmed her mouth. “Am I overdressed?”
He checked out her tailored dress—a close twin to yesterday’s stuffy and uptight suit. The navy-blue fabric gently draped her breasts, but it couldn’t hide the pebbling of her nipples. Unfortunately the concealing garment skimmed past the curve of her hips to cover most of her long legs. Too bad. Phoebe had first-class legs.
“You’re early. I need to get ready.”
“I allowed extra time for traffic but there wasn’t any. Besides, the sooner we start, the sooner I can get home.”
Her barb caught him like a sucker punch, but damn if he’d let it show. He hid his irritation by wiping his sweaty face with the towel and gesturing for her to come inside. “You want to look around while I shower and dress or do you want to wait for the guided tour?”
“Neither, thanks.” She declined and insulted so politely Carter just shook his head.
“Give me ten minutes. There’s iced tea in the fridge. Help yourself.” He gestured toward the kitchen and then headed for the master suite.
Carter stripped and stepped under the shower spray, pondering how he could still find Phoebe attractive after all this time. Soaping his shoulders, he shrugged. Probably because they’d explored all kinds of uncharted territory with an uninhibited thirst for knowledge that he hadn’t experienced since. Blood pooled in his groin and his heart pumped double-time at the mythological proportions of his memories. What better way to debunk that myth than by spending a month in her company? Then he’d find himself a sweet local gal, settle down and have kids.
Roots. That’s what this old house was all about. He’d spent most of his life traveling the globe, and it was time to put down roots, to make his own history. Surely a family of his own would fill the void inside him? His parents didn’t count since his dad was stationed halfway around the world and Carter rarely saw them.
He wanted a love like theirs—the kind that meant no sacrifice was too great. In all the years of their marriage, Carter had never heard his mother complain about any of the hell-holes his father had dragged her through, and there’d been dozens of them. She’d packed and moved on command like a good military wife, happy to go anywhere as long as it meant staying by her husband’s side. Even when she had to stay behind she’d been a pillar of strength, a rock he could rely on. At each new base she’d thrown herself into the wives clubs with enthusiasm.
As a shy kid, Carter hadn’t made new friends as easily. He’d turned to books and cameras and, later, to computers. He’d been shy and tongue-tied around girls and hadn’t made any real, lasting friendships until college. He and his college buddies Sawyer and Rick had remained tight until recently when both men had married and started families of their own, leaving Carter the odd man out once again. He hated being a fifth wheel.
He wanted a life partner, and as soon as he proved that his memories of Phoebe were nothing more than exaggerated fantasies, he’d find the right woman—a woman who wouldn’t look down her straight, pedigreed nose at him or be ashamed to introduce him to her family. The timing was right. He had the home, and after three years of damned hard work, CyberSniper was on solid footing.
Phoebe wasn’t that woman. Hell, she hadn’t even been able to look beyond the first photo in the stack he’d handed her yesterday. Was he such a repugnant part of her past?
He rinsed the shampoo from his hair, stepped out of the shower and dried off. After a quick shave, he pulled on a custom-tailored suit, shoved his feet into his Gucci loafers and headed for the kitchen and a little “hair of the dog that bit you.”
Phoebe heard Carter return, but she couldn’t look away from the picture of the adorable dark-haired, blue-eyed boy on Carter’s refrigerator. Carter had said he wasn’t married, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have an ex-wife and children somewhere. He was thirty-three and statistically likely to have married at least once by now.
“Is he yours?” Getting the words past the unexpected lump in her throat was harder than it should have been. Of course Carter would have children one day and they would not be hers. She’d buried those dreams long ago.
“No. J.C.—Joshua Carter—belongs to Sawyer Riggan. You remember my college roommate? He married a few years back. Sawyer and his wife Lynn are my neighbors. J.C.’s two years old, and he’s my godson.” Pride filled his voice.
“He’s adorable.” Phoebe turned from the picture and shock erased whatever she’d been about to say from her mind. Carter wore a charcoal-gray suit that fit his frame perfectly. His crisp white shirt accentuated his tanned face, and he’d knotted a sapphire-blue tie the exact shade of his eyes at his neck. A lock of damp dark hair fell over his forehead. He could have been any politician on Capitol Hill, only she’d never met a congressman this gorgeous.
His prosperous appearance threw her off balance and piqued her curiosity. Carter looked nothing like the rumpled, jeans-clad college student she used to know or the jock she’d encountered yesterday and again today when she’d arrived.
She blinked to clear the fog of unwanted attraction from her brain. Repeating past mistakes wasn’t on the agenda. “You and Sawyer bought houses on the same street? You must have stayed close after school.”
“Yeah. And Rick Faulkner and his wife own the third house on the street. Remember him?”
“The tall blonde?” She remembered Carter’s two handsome friends, but she hadn’t been interested in either of them back then. She’d been too busy losing herself in Carter’s eyes, in his smile and, later, in his body. Unwelcome warmth settled low in her abdomen.
He nodded. “Want a drink? We have a few minutes before our reservation.”
“No, thank you. As I said, I would really like to get home early tonight. I’m expecting a call from my grandfather.”
His lips flat-lined. “Right. Let’s go. I’ll bring the car around front.”
“There’s no need, Carter. This isn’t a real date. I can get into the car in the garage when you do.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and then he jerked a nod. “Let me lock up.”
He disappeared into the foyer and returned seconds later—long before Phoebe could come up with a way to convince him to hand over the pictures and cancel this outing. After opening the door leading from the kitchen to the garage, he activated the security keypad by the door. A custom-tailored suit, an alarm system and a sports car all added up to affluence.