Black Ember (13 page)

He moved closer, until her face was only inches from hers, his fingers wrapped in her hair, tugging her closer. “If you don’t, we’re going to assume that’s tacit approval. And I’m going to keep going. You can tell me what you want, and I’ll do my best to satisfy you…but if you leave it up to me we’re going to do it my way. I’m going to do exactly what I want to you, and get exactly what I want from you. Do you understand, Carrie?”

Did she? Her body certainly seemed to think so; she felt like she was both melting from the inside out and energized with raging need. Every word he uttered made it more intense, every threat—because that was what he was doing, no matter how many disclaimers and exit plans he couched it in—escalated her hunger.

“I understand,” she whispered.

Then he kissed her.

It wasn’t a practiced, competent kiss like the ones in Nathanial’s repertoire. It was urgent and demanding and every bit as rough as he’d promised. Caryn kissed back, biting him on the lower lip before she even realized what she was doing, eliciting a groan. He pulled her roughly onto his lap, her legs straddling him, her tight skirt pushed up around her hips, her knees on the cold metal of the bench. Behind her, she could hear the thunder rolling far in the distance, and she felt a few drops of rain on her neck and arms.

“It’s raining,” she mumbled.

“That’s not ‘no,’” Zane replied, pushing her flimsy top up so his hands were on her body, taking her measure, exploring, learning her.

He was right: she hadn’t said no. She kept her mouth shut.

But only for a moment, because he found the front clasp of her cheap pink bra and tore it open without bothering to figure out how to undo the clasp. The little plastic piece went flying, and she didn’t even care, especially when his fingers found her aching, sensitive nipples…and then his mouth.

The lightning continued to flash. The rain poured down all around them. And on the forgotten bench behind the abandoned radio station, Caryn let her inner Carrie go for a wild ride.

The ride back to the ranch was a silent one. Carrie busied herself with fastening her bra back together with a piece of wire Zane found in the toolbox he kept in the truck bed. He glanced over at her from time to time while he drove, slowly because the rain was still coming down, but for her part she seemed to be trying hard to pretend he didn’t exist.

She was drenched. They both were. Funny how neither of them cared at the time, when the winds changed direction and the rain slanted directly into their little shelter under the overhang. She’d been on top of him, moving like a wild creature, the wind snatching up her cries and carrying them away. Her nails tore into his back, under the shirt she’d unbuttoned—well, she’d undone the first few buttons, anyway, but then she’d gotten impatient and just ripped the last one off—and when she finally went over the top she’d bitten him above his collarbone, hard.

And that had just been the first time.

The dashboard clock showed it was nearly 3:00 in the morning, late enough that the guests should all be gone and, hopefully, the wedding party tucked safely in bed, getting their rest for tomorrow. Zane needed some time to think through what just happened. He wasn’t dumb enough to believe Carrie would want to sleep in his room; he’d made it clear that this was just a recreational romp, and she’d agreed with him practically before he could finish his sentence. Zane had perfected the art of getting women to go home when he was done making love to them—waking up with a woman tended to give them all kinds of wrong ideas—but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t be a problem with Carrie.

Sure enough, when he pulled up in front of the ranch, she yawned elaborately without looking at him. “Sure is late, I’m going to just turn in,” she said before jumping out of the truck. He watched her make a dash for the front door through the rain, her legs flashing in the porch light. He recognized it again, the wildness inside her that had nothing to do with her ridiculous clothes and makeup that was much too intense to be covered up by a little poor acting.

It was true, what he’d told her back at the radio station. She truly was the most fascinating woman he’d ever met, a walking, talking contradiction in terms. She wanted the world to think she was tough, brazen, out only for herself. But that all fell away the minute Deneen held up that stupid purple napkin. Not only did Carrie offer to help, she singlehandedly transformed the table into a showpiece. Not something they taught in juvie, Zane was willing to bet. And then, watching Carrie with Turk and Opal—a pair of tough old birds if Zane had ever seen one—she had them eating out of her hand, which told him that she’d worked hard and done her part.

In fact, the only area in which she’d proved herself to be a pure, ungovernable hellion was when she was in his arms. His body responded, just remembering the last several hours, the things she had done and demanded. How a woman learned to do all those things, he had no idea…and he found that he didn’t really want to know, either.

Zane, known as Mr. Teflon around the firm among the younger associates who saw the women come and go from his life, was experiencing something he’d never felt before. The burning sensation in his heart, the pressure behind his eyeballs, the urge to clench his fists or maybe even hit something—he was pretty sure it was jealousy. He’d seen the way the men looked at Carrie the last two nights at the bar, and he didn’t like it. Not at all.

And even worse, he was experiencing none of his usual urge to distance himself, to gently push away the woman he’d just bedded. Instead, he wanted her again. Right now, in fact, which wasn’t going to happen for all kinds of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that his fellow groomsmen were in bed on either side of him, separated only by thin walls—and Carrie wasn’t the kind of woman you could ask to keep it down. But there was also the issue that she didn’t want anything to do with him, and hadn’t since the second time she’d writhed and scratched and moaned her way to satisfaction on the bench.

 Zane sighed. He felt like he was fourteen again, painfully attracted to Miss Atkinson, who taught Health and wore thin little flowered dresses and bewitching high heels. He wanted what he couldn’t have. Well, he couldn’t have it
again
, anyway, a fact that had him feeling like he often did when he was an attorney and lost a case—beating himself up for what he should have said and done differently. He didn’t think it was a case of gross incompetence this time, as he’d been told on more than one occasion that his skill with women was considerable, but—just as had happened much too often at the firm, he’d found himself with an impossible case, one he couldn’t win.

 Because winning, with Carrie, suddenly seemed to mean getting the girl.

 And Carrie wasn’t a girl he could have. Wasn’t a girl anyone could have, apparently, for more than the time it took for her to drift through town.

 An unfamiliar sensation was taking hold of him. Just as he’d been tossed like a rogue wave into the unpleasant feeling of jealousy, now he was finding himself consumed with an unfamiliar sense of urgency. Balls-to-the-wall, hell-bent, all-consuming determination. Mr. Teflon, the man who walked away every time the going got tough, the guy who could smooth talk his way to the exit like no one else, was digging in his heels and getting ready to fight. He knew, for what felt like the first time in his entire life, exactly what he wanted. And what he wanted was Carrie.

 Which was crazy. Because she wasn’t staying, and she didn’t want him. So this was a doomed mission. But if all Zane could have was a few days with her, then he didn’t plan to miss a minute.

 He got out of the car and stalked toward the house, barely noticing the rain pelting him, ready to fight for what he wanted.

 Caryn heard the front door, and footsteps on the hardwood floors, but it was still a shock when Zane stomped into the kitchen and stood inches away from her, glaring and dripping water on the floor.

 “You’re going to be my date to the wedding tomorrow,” he snapped, with about as much warmth as if she’d run over his dog. “Wear something that doesn’t look like you stole it off a hooker.”

 Caryn continued to stir her tea, keeping a neutral expression on her face, though her heart did a backflip. Apparently she found unreasonable, demanding, physically intimidating men attractive—who knew? Or maybe it was even more primitive than that. Now that she’d had the best sex of her life with this near-stranger, he’d somehow imprinted her with an irrational but unavoidable sexual response.

Great: for the rest of her days, was she doomed to be turned on by every dumb oaf in a nasty mood?

 “Wow, nice talk, sailor,” Jayne said, coming into the kitchen with her phone in her hand.

 Zane reddened. He must have thought that Caryn was alone in the kitchen. And she had been, just long enough to find the teabags and microwave some water. She too had assumed everyone else was asleep.

 “I wasn’t talking to you,” Zane snapped.

 “Hey, watch your tone. I’m the bride. You have to be nice to me.”

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I was. But now I’m awake. I’m having a crisis.”

 “Dress won’t fit over the baby bump?” Zane snarled, though he looked abashed. “Maybe you should have laid off the peanut butter cups.”

 “No, my dress fits just fine,” Jayne sighed, sinking into one of the chairs. Caryn thought she looked wonderful, though she hadn’t really known many pregnant women. The models and designers she worked with rarely had children, and her hectic schedule meant that Caryn had lost touch with her friends from college, so she knew their kids only from Christmas cards and Facebook updates. “And Carrie, if you really would consider being his date, you might just be able to solve my problem.”

 “I wouldn’t feel right intruding on your special day,” Caryn said, though she had certainly attended the weddings of people she liked far less than she did Jayne, despite the fact that they’d just met. “But what can I do to help?”

 “It’s just that one of my bridesmaids had an emergency. I mean, Ashley is fine, but one of her kids fell off a slide today and broke his arm, and they had to take him to the children’s hospital in Minot to put a special plate in. The kid’ll be good as new, but Ashley’s not leaving his side. Which any normal person would totally understand, but my crazy sister is throwing a fit. She says I can’t have four groomsmen and only three bridesmaids in the photos.”

 “Deneen wants Ashley to leave her son alone at the hospital just so the wedding will
look
right?” Zane demanded. The outrage in his voice made Caryn’s girl parts shiver.
More
, they demanded silently. She squeezed her legs together to silence the little voice, which wasn’t very effective.

 “I wouldn’t put it past her, but no, she says I either have to cut one of the groomsmen or find another bridesmaid.”

 “I volunteer,” Zane said. “You can cut me. No hard feelings.”

 “No way,” Jayne said. “You’re not getting out of it, not after we got you a tux and a boutonniere and all that other crap. We could have bought a new drill press with all that money.”

 “I can’t believe you and Deneen are related,” Zane said, shaking his head. “If I were you, I’d demand she get a blood test.”

 Caryn couldn’t help smiling. The two sisters
were
quite different—Jayne was sensible and practical, whereas Deneen was frilly and girly—but it was clear that they were very close.

 “Great idea, Zane, but it doesn’t help me
now
. With my wedding just hours away and all. And while I would have been just as happy to get hitched at City Hall and celebrate with a bucket of wings, I’m not going to be the one to mess up my sister’s big production.” She reached for an apple from the bowl in the middle of the table and took a huge bite. “She scares me,” she added while chewing.

 “Are you going to take a break from eating during the ceremony, or do you plan to stuff a few Oreos in your cleavage just in case?” Zane asked.

 “I’m eating for two,” Jayne said primly. “So anyway, Carrie, I was thinking, you and Ashley are built exactly alike. Even though she’s had three kids, that bitch. I hate her. I hate you too, come to think of it, with that figure of yours, but I’m willing to put that aside if you’ll just agree to put on the dress and wear it for a few hours.”

 “But—” Caryn was aghast. “You can’t put me in the wedding party. I mean, you’ll have those photos forever, you don’t want a total stranger in them!”

 “You’re not a stranger,” Jayne said, through another bite. She was demolishing the apple at an alarming pace. “I like you. I hope we’ll stay friends. Besides, after a few years everyone’s got people they wish weren’t in their pictures—their sister gets divorced from the guy who was a groomsman, they quit speaking to their aunt who did a reading, you know how it goes. Life’s messy. Why not have people I actually
like
in my wedding party?”

 Caryn couldn’t come up with a response. It was true: her mother had lost touch with several of the bridesmaids from her wedding to Randall, and he no longer spoke to his brothers, who didn’t approve of him marrying Cleo after divorcing Georgia. Caryn herself had designed bridal jewelry for marriages that didn’t last a year.

 “A beautiful wedding doesn’t ensure happiness,” she said slowly.

 “Well, I’ve got the happiness part covered,” Jayne said. “Matthew is absolutely the man for me. My only problem is getting through tomorrow with Deneen still speaking to me.”

 “You could still elope,” Zane suggested. “Run, now. I’ll make your excuses.”

 “Nice try, but you’re still not getting out of it. Don’t you think Carrie will make a pretty bridesmaid?”

 Zane didn’t give her so much as a glance. “I guess,” he said, staring at the apple bowl.

 Caryn could feel herself blushing, but she too kept her gaze fixed firmly on nothing. Her body had betrayed her enough; she wasn’t going to do anything else to make Zane aware that he was having such an effect on her.

Jayne looked from her to Zane and back. “Interesting,” she said slowly, one eyebrow raised. “And this works out so well, because Ashley was going to walk with you, Zane. Now you and Carrie will be paired up, and you can introduce her to everyone.”