Читать книгу Christmas at the Cove - Rachel Brimble - Страница 12
ОглавлениеCARRIE LEFT THE garage and strode into the street, her legs trembling. She clasped her hand over her mouth and ducked into an alleyway. Dropping her head back against the damp brick of the building, she welcomed the heavy rain as it battered her skin.
My God, he looked...amazing.
Scott Walker was still gorgeous, sexy and alive with a fire she stupidly thought she remembered so clearly—but hadn’t remembered accurately at all. The irresistible intensity surrounding him hadn’t lessened with time. It still seeped from every pore. His inexplicable manliness appealed to her senses and scored over her skin, like nothing she’d ever known with another man. It was crazy—yet so very, very real. She closed her eyes.
God, why did I come here expecting to control the situation?
When he stood in front of her, broad chested, with grease-smeared overalls hanging loose at his hips...Carrie drew in a long breath through flared nostrils as her center shamelessly pulled. The man burned with passion. When she looked into his eyes, his shock over seeing her scorched right through her skin and deep into her heart, making her want to kiss him...comfort him. Apologize. Ask him to forgive her. But how was she supposed to talk to him about Belle and get the hell home as quickly as possible when he affected her like this?
From the dark fall of his thick hair to the shadow of stubble at his jaw and upper lip, he was so entirely masculine she couldn’t stand how weak with desire he made her. This wasn’t who she was. She was a mum. A producer. A daughter. A widow...
Confusion and shock rocketed through her and she pushed away from the wall. She needed to get a grip. This was about Belle. Not her. Not Scott. There was no way she’d leave Templeton and go back home without doing what she came to do, so she’d better find a way to deal with his pull on her and find it quickly. She couldn’t let her fear of Scott’s potential to take her as easily as he did the first time change the reality he was Belle’s father. And she’d promised herself she’d tell Scott the truth.
Smoothing the front of her coat, she hitched her belt tighter and inhaled the moist winter air. Belle was growing and growing fast. Carrie could scarcely believe this was her daughter’s third Christmas. God, she should have done this months ago—why had it taken Gerard’s death to make her take responsibility for her actions?
Because I’m a coward. Because I was scared of this. Scared that I’d still be as attracted to Scott today as I was then. Scared that the suspicion in Gerard’s eyes whenever I spoke of Scott would be proven justified. Scared I would have to accept what Gerard knew all along...Scott matters to me.
Carrie’s tears slipped from beneath her closed lids and trickled a warm path down her icy cheeks. Gerard was a brave man. A selfless, wise and mature man. Her antithesis and, as far as she could tell, Scott’s too. Hence why she’d taken over a year to grieve and gather the strength to get through what she now had to do alone. Carrie shook her head. She’d convinced herself the time was right because with the time that had passed since she’d seen Scott, surely her attraction would be gone, obliterated by a loving marriage and a beautiful child teaching her so much about motherhood.
But no. It was still there, maybe burning more dangerously than before because this time she and Scott had a child together. The potential was there to know each other for the rest of their lives; to be side by side at Belle’s parent-teacher interviews, birthday parties, Christmas holidays...
Oh, God. Carrie paced left and right as though looking for an escape as the alley’s walls closed in on her. I have to take control. Arranging for Scott to see Belle at some point in the future is all that matters here. He doesn’t want me. He’s never wanted me. I have to remember that. If he felt half of what I felt, we would have found a way to be together. She gave a curt nod and swiped at her face as sanity returned.
She glared toward the opening of the alleyway and belatedly opened her umbrella. Her carefully styled hair now hung in limp rats’ tails down her back. The next move was Scott’s, and she’d learn to be patient. There was nothing else to be done today. It was only fair she gave him a little time.
She exited the alley and, at the entrance, cast a glance toward the garage. She half expected him to be standing in the doorway, watching her with those midnight-blue eyes. The area in front of the garage was achingly empty.
Ignoring the jab in her chest that felt far too much like disappointment, Carrie dragged up the courage she needed if she had any hope of getting her mission done. Gripping her umbrella in front of her face against the wind and rain, she hurried along the road that would take her back to High Street. The rain hammered on her umbrella, matching the chaos screaming inside her.
The welcome sight of a bakery with lights burning through the cottage-style windows came into view. Tinsel and baubles glinted and twinkled behind the glass, beckoning Carrie inside. She yanked her umbrella closed and stepped gratefully through the door.
The bakery was deserted. Not a single customer sat at the pine tables or booths to keep her company...or better still, keep her hidden from observation. Yet, the smells were as close to heaven as a girl could get, and Carrie firmly closed the door. She’d enjoy a cup of coffee and then head back to the hotel.
Scott had twenty-four hours to contact her before she’d return to the garage and confront him a second time. He might have shaken her today, but she was determined that wouldn’t happen tomorrow.
She fluffed her hair that was already beginning to frizz and met the gaze of the woman standing behind the counter. She had a welcoming smile, but Carrie was shrewd enough to recognize the baker’s intense appraisal.
Carrie planted on a smile and approached the counter. “Hi.”
The woman’s gaze softened. “Good afternoon, lovely. What can I get you?”
Inexplicable warmth replaced the chill in Carrie’s bones that had bothered her every second since seeing Scott. She dropped her tense shoulders. “A cappuccino would be great. Thank you.”
“Anything else? I have freshly baked Christmas cookies and sweet mince pies, too.”
Carrie dragged her gaze from the woman’s sparkling brown eyes and looked through the pane of the glass-covered display counter. Her stomach grumbled with insistent demand. Every Christmas cookie imaginable was laid out on red, gold and green trays. Iced cakes and chocolate éclairs, grinning marshmallow snowmen and sparkling angel biscuits cruelly arranged and made purposely impossible to resist.
She sighed as her diet vanished...again. “Why not?” She smiled. “I’ll have one of the Santa cookies.”
The baker beamed with satisfaction. “Good choice. Why don’t you take a seat and get out of your wet coat? I’ll bring your coffee and cookie over in two ticks.”
“Thank you.” Carrie looked around before heading for the booth farthest away from the counter. She took off her coat, tossed it over the seat and slid close to the window. Rain slid in continuous zigzags down the glass, blurring the view of the street. She pulled her cell phone from her bag and hovered her finger over her mother’s number. She longed to hear Belle’s voice but knew it would be pathetic to call again so soon. She’d only left her at her parents’ house the day before. If she was going to do what she came to do, she had to be strong.
Yet, as strong and succinct as she was in her working life, Carrie couldn’t remember a time she’d felt so alone since burying Gerard. Seeing Scott again had not only evoked dormant sexual yearning, it had brought on an explosion of further guilt and betrayal toward Gerard. How was she going to handle these conflicting emotions? Heat rose in her face. She was a horrible, horrible person.
The soft brush of approaching footsteps broke through her melancholy and Carrie looked up. The woman from behind the counter placed Carrie’s cappuccino on the table, followed by a brightly decorated Christmas plate donning her grinning Santa cookie.
The baker slid onto the opposite seat and set down her teacup before meeting Carrie’s gaze. “I’m Marian. Welcome to Templeton.” She offered her hand and glanced toward the window. “I promise the Cove isn’t always this gray and damp.”
Carrie shook Marian’s hand and smiled. “Carrie Jameson, and I know just how sunny Templeton can be. You have a beautiful town.”
“We do...and a lot of visitors.”
Carrie tensed and braced herself for whatever was coming next. Marian might appear friendly but her gaze was dark with curiosity. Small towns, more often than not, equaled little anonymity.
Marian lifted a brow. “So you know Templeton? I don’t remember seeing you around here before.”
Carrie took a sip of her coffee and its delicious rich and chocolaty taste slid warm and comforting down her throat. “That’s because the last time I was here, coffee was way down on the agenda.”
“Want to tell me what was on the agenda...and when?”
“You’re not very backward in coming forward, are you?” Carrie struggled to fight her smile.
Marian grinned. “Nope. If you’re here to stay for the holidays and like your coffee, you’ll soon get to know me and realize how keen I am to know who’s who in town. I love Templeton as much as I love my George. I like to know who everyone is.”
“Well, as delicious as your coffee is, I won’t be here for the holidays. I was here a while ago on a weekend trip with friends.” Carrie smiled wryly. “Although, that seems a lifetime ago now.”
Marian frowned. “But you had a good time?”
Far too good. Carrie forced a smile. “Yes. Templeton’s lovely.”
“So you like the Cove, but you’re not here for the holidays.” Marian frowned. “Are you here on some unfinished business?”
Despite Marian’s unabashed interrogation, Carrie warmed to this gray-haired baker with soft, motherly curves and keen inquisitiveness. She glanced toward the window. “I’m here to deliver a message. Then I’ll be heading straight home.”
“I see.” Marian raised her teacup to her lips, her gaze steady above the rim. “And I guess by the sudden hint of sadness in your eyes, the recipient of this message is a man.”
Carrie’s wavering defenses slotted back into place. “Maybe.”
Marian grinned. “There’s no maybe about it. What’s his name?”
“You don’t give up easily, do you?” Carrie raised an eyebrow.
“Nope.”
“I don’t like to be rude, but I’d rather not say.”
Marian’s smile dissolved, but she shrugged good-naturedly. “Fair enough.”
They lapsed into silence and Carrie watched Marian as she drank. For some reason, she could imagine her in a big, dusty bookshop, browsing the shelves and gossiping. Although, she suspected the baker’s laughter was a loud boom rather than a snigger and might not be too welcome in a bookshop. Yet, Carrie would bet money it was a laugh that people loved.
She shook off her burgeoning fondness for this woman and looked toward the window. She had to be on her guard and not get drawn into any semblance of friendship while she was there. One look into Scott’s eyes told Carrie the man was private. Guarded. She wasn’t entirely different. The last thing she wanted was to inadvertently add more fuel to an already burning fire by spreading their business all over town.
The bell over the door announced a new arrival and Carrie darted her gaze to the entrance. The man who came in was tall with blond hair and a fit, athletic physique. He ran his hand over his short-cropped hair and looked to Marian. His face broke into a wide smile. “There she is. One of the usual when you’re ready, my darling.”
“Can’t you see I’m having a sit-down? Come here and meet Carrie. She’s in town visiting awhile.”
Carrie inwardly grimaced. She didn’t want any more people knowing her name. She’d been in Templeton less than twenty-four hours and it seemed everyone was far too keen to introduce themselves to her...thus forcing her to be civil in return.
The man strode forward, his head bent as he shrugged out of his jacket. He looked up, and the moment he met Carrie’s eyes, he drew to a sharp stop. “Oh, no. You’re blonde.”
Carrie glanced from his wide-eyed stare to Marian and back again. “So are you.”
He glared. “Not funny. You’re new in town and you’re blonde.”
Marian shifted in her seat. “What’s the matter with you, Nick? That’s no way to say hello to a lady the first time you meet. Now show some manners. This is Carrie Jameson.” She smiled at Carrie. “Carrie, this is Nick Carson, Templeton’s resident superstar DJ.”
Carrie held out her hand despite her unease. “Nice to meet you.”
Nick stared at her with open dislike. He took her hand in his but instead of shaking and releasing, he held it firmly. “Are you in town to see Scott Walker, by any chance?”
Shock caught Carrie’s breath in her throat and she snatched her hand from his. She shot her gaze to Marian. “I’d better go. It was nice—”
“Have you seen him yet?”
Nick’s demand turned her head and Carrie narrowed her eyes, her spine rigid. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I really need to go.” She shimmied along the seat and stood.
He crossed his arms. “Scott doesn’t need any trouble. Why don’t you go back to wherever it is you’ve come from and leave the man in peace? He’s got plans. Plans that don’t need altering.”
Irritation flared like a lit flint behind her ribcage and Carrie glared, grateful to vent some frustration on this arrogant idiot...all semblance of friendliness vanishing. “Is that so? Well, unfortunately for Scott, plans change...but, believe me, I’ll do my utmost to make sure his life, and mine, stay just the way they are.”
“So you are her. The blonde who’s going to mess up his head again.”
“Will you stop calling me ‘the blonde’? I have a name, you know.” She snatched up her coat and turned her back to him as she buttoned it, yanking the belt tight.
“He’s made a good life for his family. Why are you here? What do you want from him?”
His family. Scott’s married? Has kids? Carrie opened her mouth, but no words formed as her heart thundered. Oh, God. Why didn’t I consider he could have a family?
Marian cleared her throat. “I’m not sure what’s crawled into Nick’s backside and turned him into a Neanderthal, Carrie, but please don’t hurry off on account of his lack of manners. If anyone should be leaving my bakery right now, it’s him.”
Carrie turned as Nick’s words reverberated in her mind. Trepidation gnawed at her stomach. Scott could have a wife. He could be a father to other children. Why had she not thought about that? Why hadn’t she thought about his life, period?
She looked at Nick and his anger permeated the air between them. She clutched the strap of her bag to hide her trembling. “I don’t want anything from Scott. You can think what you want, but I came to Templeton to tell him something important and then I’m leaving. Why don’t you do me a favor and tell him that, okay?” Carrie looked to Marian who glared at Nick’s profile. “It was nice meeting you, Marian.”
“You too, sweetheart.”
“Where are you going now?” he demanded.
“None of your business.” Carrie faced Marian once more and smiled. “Thanks for the coffee. Maybe I’ll see you again before I leave.”
She nodded, still glaring at Nick. “Make sure you do.”
Carrie snatched her umbrella from the stand and threw open the door. She walked out into the rain, her heart racing and her chin high. Nick Carson’s animosity had done her more good than he could imagine. It had made her more prepared and given her prior warning of Scott’s life now.
The biggest worry was, if he had other children, would he want Belle more than she could have anticipated...or would he completely reject her? He might not want another child. Carrie’s stomach dropped. What if he was married when they spent those crazy, lust-fuelled days together? Was his wife away on business? Is that why they never left her hotel room?
“Oh, God.” Heat burned her face and in her chest. Had she slept with another woman’s husband? Partner?
Sickness rolled through her. She might have kept Belle a secret from Scott for longer than she should have, but infidelity? Being the other woman? No, no, no.
She exhaled a shaky breath as further shame engulfed her. Before the possibility of Scott already being a father came to the table, a father who was present in his children’s lives, things had been laced with a romantic ideal in her mind. She had to face the truth that she had come back to the Cove as much to find out about her feelings for him as she had for Belle’s sake.
She would tell him about Belle then leave. If he loved and provided for his existing children, the chances were he’d want to love Belle, too. Carrie worried her bottom lip. Would she have to deal with a wife who’d lived in marital bliss, only to now find out her husband had created a baby with a past lover?
Carrie vehemently shook her head. She had to believe Scott was single when he slept with her. She had to or everything had just gotten a whole lot messier. She strode along the street, her head spinning. What confused her was Scott’s intensity seemed no different today than when she’d met him years before, and wouldn’t children soothe him? Belle had certainly softened Carrie’s need to work twenty-four-seven. Carrie now preferred instead to spend time at home doing close to nothing as long as she was with her daughter.
What was going on with Scott that his children hadn’t healed the hurt she had sensed when they lay side-by-side, skin-to-skin in a hotel room?
Carrie narrowed her eyes. She wouldn’t go there. The reasons behind his state of mind weren’t her problem. Since losing Gerard, her resolve had strengthened more than any stranger would detect on the surface. Any man worth their salt should learn and learn quickly, never mess with a mother protecting her child. Ever.
* * *
STANDING TOE-TO-TOE with Nick in the garage office, Scott’s anger poured into his blood, making his chest constrict with the overwhelming need to punch Nick clean in the face for the first time in their twenty-year friendship. “What the hell do you mean you faced her off? What did you think you were doing?”
Nick planted his hands on hips. “I was looking out for you, that’s what. She’s trouble. I saw it in her eyes. Whatever it is she wants from you, she won’t be going anywhere until she’s got it. Why would you even want to find out what that is? Just use some common sense and stay the hell away from her. If she finds you, shut the door in her face.”
“You had no damn right.”
“I had every right. I’m your friend and it was you who called me, remember? You asked for my help, and I’m not going to sit back and let her walk all over you a second time.”
“I asked you to help me find her, not find her and get in her face.”
“She was there. I did what I had to do.”
“God damn it, Nick.” Scott shoved his hand into his hair as he scrambled for the right words. “The woman meant something to me.”
“Yeah? You never went after her though, did you?”
Scott glared, words failing him. He hadn’t gone after Carrie for fear of the unknown. He didn’t want commitment...and after their amazing time together, he couldn’t risk hurting her. He’d let her go because he couldn’t promise her anything. A woman like Carrie deserved to be promised the world.
Nick’s shoulders slumped. “Look, she might be back...but this time she’s wearing a wedding band. I’m sorry, man. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
Shock struck Scott’s chest. She’s married and come back looking for me? What the hell does she think she’s doing? He shrugged as he struggled to maintain some semblance of nonchalance. “Well, if she’s married, this isn’t about us hooking up again then, is it? At the end of the day, this is between me and her, not you.” Scott moved to walk past him but Nick gripped his arm. Scott scowled. “What?”
“If she isn’t here to hook up with you, what the hell is she here for?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Then I did the right thing by sending her on her way. Whichever way you look at this, her turning up can only mean grief.”
Scott pulled his arm from Nick’s grasp. “Whatever... You still shouldn’t have gone off at her.”
Nick glared. “So we don’t watch each other’s backs anymore? Will you listen to yourself? She clearly gave you a better time than any other woman has in months. What’s going on with you?”
Scott screwed his eyes shut. “I have to see her.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? She’s married.”
Scott opened his eyes and clenched his jaw as he searched for the reason why he battled the overwhelming urge to sprint from the garage and track Carrie down. It was an answer he didn’t have. All he knew was as soon as she stood in front of him, he wanted to kiss her, touch her, make love to her and have her smile at him in the same soft, sexy way she had when she was in bed with him before.
He shook his head, snatched his keys off his desk and pointed them toward the door. “You need to go.”
“What?”
Their gazes locked as Scott’s blood roared in his ears. “If you think she walked all over me last time, we’ve nothing else to say to each other. How could she have walked all over me when we were barely together more than a few days, huh? What happened after she left has nothing to do with her. Don’t you get that? It was me who hit bottom. It wasn’t her fault.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “So you’re going back for more of the same?”
“I have to know why she’s back.”
“No, you don’t. You want to. What is it about this girl? Sure, she’s pretty but God, man, it’s like she’s got hold of your damn dick.”
Frustration coursed through Scott on a vibrating wave. He had no clue what it was that burned like an inferno between him and Carrie Jameson. The only thing he was sure of was the same shock mixed with desire had gleamed in her gaze at the garage as it had when she took his hand and led him from The Coast Inn straight to her hotel room.
Scott brushed past Nick. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s up to me to deal with, not you.” He pulled open the office door and waved. “After you.”
“You’re going to see her right now, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” Nick raised his hands in surrender. “Do what you have to do. I’ll be at the bar when you need a drink. Something tells me that will be sooner rather than later.”
Nick marched out the door, his feet banging down the iron steps and through the garage. Scott refused to allow his friend’s judgment to seep into his blood and make him resent Carrie when she’d done nothing wrong. She’d promised him nothing. He had to see her.
Locking the door behind him, Scott hurried down the steps and through the garage. He drew together the two iron doors and padlocked them before pocketing the keys in his jeans. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the collar of his leather jacket and, with his head bent against the wind and rain, jogged toward town.
The townspeople were out in their numbers as Christmas Day approached with a rapidity Scott couldn’t think about right then. Some faces etched with happiness, others with stress—there was no avoiding the holidays would soon be here and Scott was far from prepared. He passed the temporary ice rink that was set up in the town square every year.
The sound of the kids’ laughter and their joyful expressions as they whizzed around the rink did nothing to appease Scott’s trepidation. It seemed a lifetime ago when he was carefree enough at Christmastime to spend it at the rink.
Forcing his gaze ahead, he pounded the distance and, with each hundred yards, his adrenaline slowed and his mind leveled. The gold-and-bronze canopy of the Christie Hotel came into view. Slowing to a walk, he nodded to the doorman and passed through the revolving door into the hotel’s lobby. It was a fancy, old-fashioned place. Not necessarily to his taste, but that didn’t prevent the image of Carrie, dressed in a column of sapphire silk and killer heels, from filtering through his mind.
Once again, his dick twitched awake and his blood heated. Even the knowledge she was married didn’t cool his physical need to make love to her again. Her hair, her eyes...those damn, sexy legs covered with sheer black stockings. Never before had a woman held him so quickly and so strongly in her snare. Thoughts of her with another man, and married, caused a lash of inexplicable pain in his chest—a pain so much worse than the surges of jealousy that had torn through him for months after she left whenever he imagined her with another man.
He lifted his chin and shoved his thoughts into submission. He glanced around the hotel lobby and smiled wryly. Yep, the place suited her perfectly. Carrie had that whole Hollywood golden age thing going on. A woman with good curves in all the right places. Rita Hayworth, Jane Russell...He breathed deep and smiled. Real women.
He approached the front desk. The stout, English butler–type manager wore the air of a king overseeing his subjects. He met Scott’s eyes with casual indifference. “Good afternoon, sir. May I help you?”
Scott cleared his throat. “Good afternoon. I believe a Carrie Jameson is staying here. Could you please phone her room and ask her to meet me in the lobby?”
“Your name, sir?”
“Walker. Scott Walker.”
“One moment, please.”
The desk manager picked up the phone and Scott turned, his nerves jumping and his shoulders tense. He looked to his left at a group of suited businessman and grimaced. His idea of hell would be having to wake up each morning and get trussed up in a suit and tie to work behind a damn desk all day. He looked to his right...
Carrie stood watching him. Her shoulders and chest rose as she took a deep breath and strode toward him. He pushed away from the desk. “Don’t worry. I found her.”
“Sorry, sir?” The desk manager coughed behind him.
“She’s here. No need to try her room.” Scott moved away from the desk, and he and Carrie came to a stop in the middle of the lobby. He stared, his gaze roaming over her hair to her face, lower to exquisite collarbones and smooth skin above breasts concealed beneath a red shirt—and, God help him, the revealed edge of a red satin bra.
“You came.” Her words whispered from between scarlet-painted lips. “Thank you.”
He met her eyes. “I’m sorry about Nick.”
She smiled softly. “You know about that?”
“He came to me straight afterward.” Unable to resist, he glanced at her hands clenched together in front of her. Her wedding band glinted. He met her eyes, his heart beating fast. “The man can be an ass, but he’s only trying to look out for me.”
“I got that.” She broke eye contact and waved toward some seats to the side of them. “Shall we—”
“Why are you here, Carrie?”
A faint stain colored her cheeks. “Why don’t we sit down?” She glanced around. “I don’t want to do this standing up with everyone watching.”
“Why does it matter?” He clenched his jaw. “Does your husband know you’ve come to Templeton? That you’re here now? With me?”
Her color darkened and her gaze blazed with anger. “My husband has nothing to do with this. I’m sitting down. You can either join me or go. I’m not talking about this for everyone else’s entertainment.”
Scott glared after her as she stormed away. He hesitated as his gut churned with indecision. Whatever she had to tell him couldn’t be good, but how the hell could he walk away without knowing what brought her back to Templeton? Not knowing would haunt him for the rest of his damn life.
Cursing, he pulled back his shoulders and strode across the lobby to where she sat at a low table, smoothing her hands up and down the length of her denim-clad thighs. He slid into the seat opposite her, his gaze once again flitting to the shiny gold wedding band on her ring finger. God, he was grateful for the table between them. A table that acted as a boulder. A boulder he deemed necessary if his urge to touch another man’s wife was anything to go by.
He met her eyes. “Okay, I’m listening.”
Her gaze bored into his before she dropped her attention to her lap. Her hands were clamped so tightly together, her knuckles showed white. Scott shifted in his seat. No part of him was used to making women uncomfortable or fearful. He wasn’t a monster and he refused to let Carrie make him feel that way.
He reached across the table and took her hand. She flinched and her head snapped up. Her dark brown eyes were wide with caution. “What?”
“Whatever you have to tell me, just say it.”
Time stood still.
Dread seeped into his veins, making him want to lunge forward and wrap his arms around her—whether in a bid to comfort or silence her, he couldn’t be sure.
Tears leaped into her eyes and her hand trembled in his grasp. “I had a baby, Scott. Your baby.”
