Once More From the Top (The Women of Willow Bay) (7 page)

“I’m not sure I
want
him hot and bothered.” Carrie stroked on body lotion. “I don’t know if I even remember what to do with a hot-and-bothered man.”

“Geez, you
so
need to get laid, and this is the perfect opportunity.” Julie pulled a shoe box from the closet shelf and dangled the red sandals temptingly from one finger. “This guy’s gonna be in your life forever. Why not let it be a good experience? Maybe you can pick up where you left off. You know, like a do-over.”

“Where we left off was him in Europe with female string players hanging all over him, and me in Louisville, broke and pregnant.” Carrie grabbed the underwear and went into the bathroom. “I sure as hell don’t want to do
that
over.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Julie followed her. “Here, let me do your makeup.”

“Okay, but nothing extreme.” She sat on the toilet seat and looked up expectantly. “Keep it simple and natural, please.”

“Hey, that’s actually a great idea—simple and understated.” Julie picked up a foundation brush. “We’ll let the dress do all the work.”

She started on Carrie’s face, applying a light base of powdered foundation and a stroke of blush to each cheek. Then she highlighted her dark eyes with shimmery taupe shadow and added a touch of lip gloss.

“There. Perfect. And not a lot of bling either. Just wear your diamond studs. Add the red undies, the sandals, and the dress and—
bam
. The guy’s a goner.”

EIGHT

“I like your friend Julie, but she’s a little… um… intimidating.” Liam poured wine into two glasses and set one in front of Carrie.

The lake air was light and cool as they sat on the deck of his boat. The sun floated on the horizon, turning the sky dark orange while Norah Jones played softly in the background. His hair rumpled from the breeze, he looked fantastic in cotton khakis and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She was dying to stroke back the errant curl that always fell over his forehead, but she reached for her wine instead.

Settling into the deck chair next to hers, he tipped his glass toward her in a silent toast.

She touched her glass to his and took a sip. “This is good. What is it?”

“A cabernet sauvignon from the Sierra foothills—about three hours northeast of San Francisco. I go wine-tasting wherever I travel—and I
love
northern California wines.”

They were both making an effort, a tentative give and take. Carrie wrapped her hands around the bowl of her wineglass, resisting the urge to touch the soft hairs on his arm. The setting sun created an aura of red-gold light around him that ignited a flame of desire low in her belly.

“Julie’s a good friend.” Carrie switched back to his original observation when she caught herself staring. “She’s not really scary. She just speaks her mind, which I always appreciate.”

She turned as footsteps sounded behind them.

A very male arm appeared as someone set a tray of appetizers on the table between them. “Hi, I’m Tony, captain of this tub. You must be Carrie.”

When he came into view, she blinked. Built like a bear, Tony was all muscle and dark hair and dressed in shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and sandals. He towered over Carrie as they shook hands.

“Nice to meet you, Tony. She’s a beautiful boat.” A wave of her hand encompassed the whole sleek vessel. “How long have you been in charge?”

Tony reached for an appetizer and popped it in his mouth. “Actually, I came with the boat,
so I’ve been her pilot for about ten years—the last two with the Maestro here. I’m also chief cook and bottle washer, and I know every inch of her intimately. Would you like a tour?” When he offered his hand, she accepted, dropping her sweater on the chair.

“
I
can take her on a tour.” Liam popped up from his chair.

Tony tossed him a cell phone. “You’ve got a call.” Taking Carrie’s hand, he led her away while Liam frowned after them.

The boat
was
elegant with plush carpet, shiny stainless steel fittings, and satiny teak and mahogany wood. The salon was furnished with an overstuffed sofa and chairs and dark wooden tables. A built-in bar and a state-of-the-art theater and stereo system were tucked into carved wood cabinets. An electronic keyboard and laptop sat on a table behind the sofa. The master cabin boasted a king-sized bed, a private bath, and an exercise area with a treadmill and free weights. There were three smaller quarters, each with a full head, plus a complete galley that seemed more like a gourmet kitchen.

After taking her below to see the engine room and storage areas, Tony brought her back up on deck. Smiling, he gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. “I’m outta here. Dinner’s warming in the oven. Good to meet you, Carrie.” He jumped over the rail onto the dock and headed off with a salute to Liam, who was still on the phone.

Carrie sat down and picked up her glass, trying hard not to eavesdrop.

“I miss you too, Ella. Give Dana my best. Yeah, yeah, I will, I promise. Goodnight, babe.” He shut the phone off and dropped it in his pocket. “So you got the nickel tour?”

“I did. It’s like a traveling household.” She allowed him to pour more wine into her glass. As she sipped, she tried not to think about who he may have been talking to.

Ella?
Who’s Ella?

Okay, stop. Ella is none of your business.
His personal life is none of your business.

Oh crap, was that Ella Grant? That hot actress he was with at the Grammy Awards?

Carrie gave herself a mental shake and refocused.

“—and we take her out every chance we get,” Liam was saying. “We’ve stuck to the Great Lakes so far. I bought her in Chicago when the former owner moved to Arizona.”

“Has Uncle Noah had a tour yet? He’d get a huge kick out of this.”

“He got the grand tour before you came down this evening. He’s made fast friends of Will and Tony.
They’re both crazy fishermen. Here, we’ll have dinner on the port side.” With a hand on the small of her back, he led her to a table on the other side of the deck.

She shivered at the light touch of his fingers, feeling his heat through the linen of her dress.

“Let me get your sweater.” He pulled the chair out for her. “If it’s too chilly out here for you, we can eat inside.”

“No, no—this is fine, thanks.” Carrie sat down. “I don’t need the sweater.”

Get a grip. You can’t react every time he’s within two feet of you, every time his hand brushes against you.

She helped herself to the appetizers, savoring the delicate crabmeat and artichoke dip on crackers. “This is delicious.”

“Yeah, Tony’s gone all out for you. We aren’t usually this fancy.” Sitting across from her, he lit the hurricane lamp. As their eyes met over the flame, the atmosphere instantly became more intimate. “Citronella,” he said with a shrug. “Probably too early for bugs, but why chance it?”

They chatted—carefully, politely— as they ate Tony’s delicious meal, and Carrie gradually began to relax. The wine helped, but it wasn’t simply the alcohol’s effect—Liam also loosened up. His eyes sparkled with curiosity as she talked about Willow Bay, her life, and her studio. She told him about coming to Michigan after her father’s death, about how photography changed her life, and she talked about Jack. He asked questions, but didn’t push, even though she could tell he was hungry for information.

She loved watching him. He still used his hands when he told a story, almost as if he were conducting as he spoke, and his smile made her heart pound. But long days on the road, traveling from city to city—endless hours of rehearsals and performances—had left their mark on him. His face was older. Lines showed around his eyes. Gray threaded through the auburn hair above his ears. The young eager musician had been replaced by a mature, balanced, and if possible, sexier version of the man she remembered.

This is Jack in thirty years.

He’d stopped talking and now eyed her expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I got distracted for a second.”

“What were you thinking about?” He took a sip of wine.

“I was thinking how much Jack looks like you.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Liam was actually blushing and in that one moment, Carrie might have been sitting with Jack.

But Liam was here now. He was Jack’s father, and he was back in her life. What that might ultimately mean terrified her, but tonight she wanted to savor the sensation of feeling beautiful and desirable again. The sexual tension was evident in his smoky eyes—a tension that had been intensifying since he kissed her that afternoon.

Was it only five hours ago?

God, how she wanted him. But she needed to set boundaries and find her limits before they went any further. “May I ask you a favor?” The words were out before she could change her mind. She held her breath, watching him closely.

“What?” He seemed cautious, but those eyes promised her anything.

Almost.

“Will you wait until Sunday to see Jack?”

His jaw dropped and he started to object.

Knowing she’d picked the one thing he wasn’t willing to do, she put her hand on his arm. “Please, just listen.”

He nodded, but she could tell he was already closing his mind, so she hurried her explanation.

“I’ve been thinking. I want him to have at least this week before we turn his life inside out. He’s been looking forward to camp all year.”

“Don’t you think there’s a chance he’s been looking forward to meeting his father
all his life?
” Liam pulled his arm away from her. Standing, he walked over to the railing, staring down into the bay.

Carrie swallowed hard and sat staring at her hands for a long moment before she answered. “Yes, he probably has. But I’m only asking you for one more week—five days, really—and then we’ll tell him. Together.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why not tomorrow?”

Slipping out of her chair, she went to stand beside him. “Because I need to know if we’re going to be able to get along, you and me. If we can’t be in the same room without biting each other’s heads off, how will that affect him?” She hoped he couldn’t hear the tremor in her voice. “I’m sorry, but I can’t—I
won’t
—throw all this at Jack until
we
have some sort of understanding. Can we figure
us
out first?”

“In five days?” His face was unreadable. After a moment, he sighed. “I’m so pissed at you, but dammit, the chemistry is still there. Aside from finding out about Jack, that one thing amazes me most, and frankly, scares the unholy crap out of me. I never imagined seeing you would make me feel like–like
this
again.” Lifting her chin with one finger, he forced her to face him. “I thought it was all gone. It’s been so long—” He stopped, his eyes boring into hers.

“I know. I’m surprised too.” She closed her eyes against the heat of his gaze. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t. Protecting
my
heart was the goal. I thought it was over, too, but all this—” Palms upward in a helpless gesture, she stammered. “—whatever
this
is makes it im–impossible for me to think clearly.”

His eyes widened and he raised both hands to cup her face. “God, Carrie,” he whispered.

His mouth came down on hers, soft and gentle at first but the pressure increased when she opened her mouth. Sliding her hands up his chest, she put her arms around his neck as his hands grasped her waist. It was a kiss born of anger, of desperation, of lust, but it didn’t matter. As he hauled her against his hard body, moving his hands to her hips, she wanted to crawl inside his skin. She couldn’t get close enough.

His tongue plunged seeking hers, his fingers tracing each vertebra through the linen of her dress. Her own hands sought his waist, untucking his shirt to find the warm muscles of his back. She needed to feel his skin, and he shivered at her touch as he pressed her hips against the rail. Pulling his mouth from hers, he dropped fierce kisses and tiny nibbling bites on her face, her jaw, her throat.

Too much. No.

The thought surfaced even as her own fingers continued to seek the heated flesh beneath his shirt. He ran his hands over her back, obviously feeling for a zipper, and as she dropped her head back, his tongue drew a path of liquid fire down her neck. She started to guide his hand to the side zipper, but he slid one hand down over her behind, bunching the fabric until he reached the hem. Slipping his hand under it, he found the skin of her thigh, his thumb barely brushing her red satin panties.

His lips claimed hers while he pressed her against the rail, fitting his erection into her belly. Moaning into his mouth, she brought her hands around to his chest, her fingers working the buttons of his shirt. When his other hand moved to her breast, her eyes flew open.

God, oh, God, what am I doing?

Grasping his wrists, she twisted away from him. “Liam, please. Stop.”

He dropped his hands immediately and stepped back, breathing heavily, his eyes dark with emotion.

Smoothing her dress over her hips, she crossed her arms and leaned forward for a moment, trying to catch her own breath. “
That’s
why we have to sort this out,” she said, taking air in great gulps. “Don’t you see? We have to figure this out or we’re going to have some frustrating months ahead.”

“Months?” He rubbed his face and blinked. “Wait a minute, what are you talking about,
months
?”