Prima Donna (8 page)

“Good luck,” Sid muttered. “I hope everything works out for you.”

“Thanks.”

Carter might have imagined it, but it almost seemed like she leaned into him a little, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and guided her out to her car.

“What an asshole.”

“It’s his building, Carter, he can do whatever he wants with it.” Regan’s shoulder lifted slightly as she sighed. “You can’t blame him for wanting to make a little money, can you?”

With no good answer, all Carter could do was squeeze her shoulder a little tighter.

“You going home?” he asked.

She pulled open the car door but didn’t get in; just rested her hand on it and nodded silently.

“Want some company?” he asked.

For a long moment, she just simply stood there looking at him, her eyes dulled by a sheen of disappointment. Disappointment in him. Ouch.

“Carter, look—”

“I didn’t mean that.” Carter stopped, grinned. “Okay, I wouldn’t say no, but I’m not a total dick, Red. You want to pretend this isn’t a big deal? No problem, I’ll play along. But I was just hoping you’d invite me over so I wouldn’t have to spend the whole afternoon with Ben.”

At least she gave him a half smile before she slipped behind the wheel and tucked her jacket in. He clicked the door closed behind her, then cursed every step back to his bike. He jerked his helmet off the handlebar and was about to jam it on his head when Regan’s window lowered.

“Hey, Carter!”

A cool guy would have walked back slowly instead of running. A cool guy would have watched where he was going instead of tripping off the curb and crashing into the rear bumper of her car.

At least he stuck the landing.

Bent at the waist, he gripped the edge of the window opening and watched her squeeze the steering wheel a couple times before she finally spoke.

“Don’t read anything else into this.” Her gaze brushed his, her voice a low mutter. “And it goes without saying I’ll be horrible company, but if you want to come over for…a sandwich…that’d be okay.”

“A sandwich?”

“A sandwich,”
she repeated with a little more emphasis than necessary.

“I like sandwiches.” He waited until she looked up at him again before he grinned. “I’ll meet you there.”

His words barely left his tongue before she cranked the key in the ignition and hit the gas. By the time he made it to the first intersection, she’d already flown down two blocks, blown through the yellow light, and disappeared up the highway. He didn’t see her again until he knocked on her apartment door six minutes later.

“Scoundrel. Scoundrel. I like the sound of that.”

Han Solo,
The Empire Strikes Back

Last night he hadn’t paid much attention to anything but Regan as he’d tripped and stumbled through her apartment, so as he pulled off his jacket, he took a minute to look around. Space was limited, but the apartment was clean and uncluttered, with a plain sandy-colored couch facing the TV and a brown tub chair on each side. A tall dark bookcase stood against the wall and over near the window was a small square wood table with two matching chairs.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water’s good, thanks.” Separated from the living room by a narrow breakfast bar, the tiny kitchen damn near sparkled it was so clean. There was barely enough room for Regan to move around in there, so Carter stayed on the other side of the breakfast bar.

He slid up on the nearest stool and smiled his thanks when she pushed his water toward him. After a long swig, he started to talk, but Regan started then, too.

“So, listen—”

“About last night—”

“What?” In stereo, then Carter shook his head and tipped his glass toward her. His stuff could wait; what couldn’t wait was finding out what she had to say about last night.

“Last night was…” With a cheese knife clutched in her fist, she inhaled slowly and began again, slicing off pieces of cheddar with slow, even strokes as her smirk warmed into a wide smile. “Last night was good.”

“Good?”
he choked. “Sweet Jesus, woman, I don’t know what you’re used to, but that was a helluva lot better than
good
.”

It was something else to watch the way her freckles stood out when she blushed. He’d never been a big fan of freckles before, but on her…oh yeah. She cut a few pieces of Monterey Jack and layered the cheeses between slices of sourdough.

“Okay, it was better than good.” Her bottom lip, full and moist, disappeared behind her top teeth for a second before she finally smiled. “And while I’m no prude, I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Very funny. I mean I’m not like…I’ve never slept with someone I just met.”

She wasn’t like him; that’s what she started to say, and it didn’t matter that she’d stopped herself, they both knew that’s what she meant. And Carter couldn’t even deny it because he’d done just that on more than one occasion. All he could do was grin.

“We didn’t just meet, Red; we’ve known each other a good five or six months.”

“You know what I mean. It’d been a lousy day, I was miserable, and we’d both been drinking.”

“It was a couple beers. Wasn’t like either one of us was plastered.” He slid off his stool and made his way around the bar as she set the sandwiches into a prepared frying pan.

Her eyes widened and she tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go.

“What are you—”

Cupping her face in his hands, Carter kissed her words away, devouring the softness of her lips as he pressed her back against the pantry door. He only meant to kiss her once, just to prove his point, but one kiss turned into two, and then…well, then it didn’t matter. All that mattered was how she slid her arms up around his neck and held on so tight, and how it almost buckled his knees to feel her softness curling around him like that.

He kissed her chin, the corner of her mouth where her lips curved into a slow smile, and down her neck where she smelled so freakin’ good.

“Okay,” she moaned over a throaty chuckle. “So maybe it wasn’t the booze.”

Carter snorted quietly and kissed her again, lingering over her bottom lip a little longer until she sighed shakily and grinned up at him.

“You, uh, wow. You made your point, now get back over to that side of the island before your sandwich burns.”

If he’d done what she said, or if he’d so much as blinked just then, he would have missed the way her guard wavered in the deep green of her eyes, or how with one small lift of her chin, she reinforced that guard all over again.

And if he’d done what she said, he’d be way over there, too far away to keep her soft scent around him, too far away to kiss her just one more time before he eased back a little and pressed the spatula into her hand.

“Flip the sandwiches. Plates?”

Her pretty little mouth opened but whatever smart-ass remark she wanted to say never came out. Instead, she pointed to the cupboard beside the fridge, then filled the plates he handed her with the best grilled-cheese sandwiches Carter had ever tasted. The girl definitely knew her cheese.

“Damn, that’s good.” He swallowed his mouthful and washed it down with the rest of his water. “So what’s the deal with you and New Year’s Eve?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Nobody leaves the party before the ball drops.”

“I do.”

Carter wasn’t quite as clueless as she must’ve hoped. He noticed the way her hand stuttered halfway to her mouth, he noticed the way she made a point of not looking at him, and he noticed the way she stopped blinking for a couple seconds.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I got that, but why?”

“Because it’s my life.” She pushed away from the island, and seemed to take a long time to fill her water glass before she sat back down and pushed the crust around on her plate. “I like to be at home when the old year ends and the new one starts.”

Was that the best she could come up with? He gave her another few seconds, then snorted. “Sorry, but I’m calling bullshit on that one.”

“What do you mean?” Finally, she looked at him. Hell, she even looked a little insulted. “It’s true.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Just like it was true last night when you kept telling everyone you were ‘fine.’ ”

“I
was
fine. I
am
fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Carter swallowed the rest of his sandwich and pushed his plate away. “And if bullshit were brass, you’d have a full band playing.”

It took a second, but eventually she got it. Hell, she even smiled, weak as it was.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“Calling bullshit on that, too. Look, Red, if you don’t want to talk about it, just tell me it’s none of my business; don’t lie to me.”

“All righty then.” She popped a piece of her sandwich in her mouth and grinned wider. “It’s none of your business.”

“Okay. See, I’m good with that.” Now who was lying?

As she sat staring into her water glass, Carter stacked their dishes and started loading them into the dishwasher.

“Just leave it,” she said, pushing away from the island. She headed into the living room, but Carter hung back until the dishes were taken care of.

“Take a load off.” With her feet tucked up beside her, she pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over her lap, her gaze never leaving the TV as she flicked past everything until she hit on
Star Wars: A New Hope
. “Hope you like
Star Wars.
”

“Yeah, sure.” He’d worn out his first set of VHS copies the year he was sick, upgraded to DVD the day they were released and still kept all those old copies next to his boxed set of the
Complete Saga
on Blu-ray.

On the couch next to her, Carter spent more time watching Regan than he spent watching the movie. Every time the Imperial March started, her eyes narrowed a little, every time a light saber crackled to life, her eyes widened, and every time Solo let rip a little sarcasm, her lips twitched but never actually smiled.

Carter needed to see her smile again.

“I don’t suppose you have a gold bikini—”

“Shh.” She rolled her eyes, but at least she smiled a little. “She doesn’t even wear that in this movie.”

Every time she moved her head, her ponytail swished against the back of the couch. This was how he’d always seen her hair—pulled back in a simple straight ponytail. But last night she’d let it fall down in long, soft, coppery-colored waves, and that’s how he wanted to see it again, all loose around her shoulders, even if she’d somehow managed to flatten all the waves.

Slowly, he lifted a bit of her hair and twirled it between his fingers. When she didn’t argue, he did it again, then eased the band out of her hair and let the length of it fall through his fingers. He took his time, filling his hand with the long silky strands, letting it go and doing it all over again while she kept right on pretending she was fine.

He spread his hand wide, fanning her hair further. For a second there, he thought she might lean back into his touch, but then a Magicuts commercial came on and the moment was gone.

“I’m sorry about your salon,” he said quietly. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Actually, yeah.” She untangled his hand from her hair and turned so she sat facing him, her knees pulled up to her chest and the blanket half-dangling on the floor. His fingers twitched against the emptiness, but he didn’t reach for her, he simply twisted a little on the couch so he was angled toward her. “You can run blocker for me tomorrow when Jayne and Maya find out I screwed them out of their chance to feed me gallons of ice cream today.”

“Damn it.” Carter winced over a short chuckle. “I knew I should’ve brought ice cream. I can go get some—”

He was halfway off the couch when she grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.

“I’m fine.” A tip of his head was all it took for her to roll her eyes and sigh. “Okay, I’m not fine, but no matter what the Girl Code says, ice cream’s not going to help.”

He lowered himself slowly, closer to her. “What will?”

“I don’t know. Nothing.” A slow shrug. “It’ll be fine.”

More bullshit, but he’d just wait her out, no matter how long it took her to finally look up at him, and no matter how long it took for her to try and blink the emptiness from her eyes, something she never quite managed to do.

“I loved everything about that place, Carter; the clients, the sales reps, the ugly big black and white tiles on the floor, the way we froze our butts off in the winter and roasted in the summer…all of it.”

She wasn’t making it sound very lovable, but he didn’t comment, just smiled a little and waited for her to keep going.

“Ten o’clock every Monday, Mrs. G came through that door like clockwork, Warren Link always brought new pictures of his granddaughter, and no matter how old and frumpy a woman felt when she came into my place, I made damn good and sure she left feeling vibrant and sexy. Do you have any idea how great it is to be able to do that for someone?”

“No.”

“Well, trust me, it’s amazing!” Breath by breath, her voice grew louder, angrier. “What other job gives you that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I, but you can bet your ass it’s not one that involves cash registers and double-coupon days. And dragging Jayne or any of them into my pity party’s not going to do anyone any good. All we’d do is sit around and eat, which would make us all feel worse.” She inhaled, long and slow, staring down at her fingers as they twisted around the edge of the blanket. “Now it’s over, clean and simple, and we can all just get on with things.”

“But what about—”

“It’s fine,” she said for what seemed like the billionth time. She even threw in a shrug that time. “There’s nothing we can do about it, so the less said the better.”

The wall was back up in her eyes, and this time it looked like it meant to stay.

Carter ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “But if it helps to have a couple gallons of ice cream, just say the word, and I’ll load you up. Something like this deserves at least a couple scoops of Double Fudge Chunk.”

There. A smile.

“Maybe later.” Fresh color crept over her cheeks, bringing lots of freckles with it.
Lots of freckles
. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”

“Forget about it. I seem to be a lightning rod for yellers these days, so if it makes you feel better…have at it.”

“Thanks.” Her laugh was soft, quiet, as she pushed off the couch and headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For half a second, he considered staying on the couch, but she was all the way in the kitchen—a good ten feet from where he was sitting—and that was ten feet too far.

“So tell me,” she said. “How did you find me last night, anyway? I’m not in the book.”

Carter leaned against the back of one of the bar stools and shrugged. “I…uh…”

“Nick told you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe.”

“Damned Scotts,” she muttered. “What else did he tell you about me?”

“Nothin’ much; blood type, tax bracket, that kind of stuff.” She didn’t have to tell him he was full of it; those eyes said it clear enough. “Okay, let’s see. You’d give your right kidney to a friend if they needed it, but you’d rather die than take one of theirs.”

Her shoulder lifted slightly, but she didn’t respond.

“You’ve never had a pet of any kind—he thinks that’s wrong, by the way—and apparently you’re completely useless with a hammer.”

“Hey!” she cried. “I’m not
completely
useless.”

Carter raised his hands and grinned. “I’m just telling you what he said.”

Regan stood with her glass pressed against her bottom lip, her eyes narrowed a little. “What about you? How’re you with a hammer?”

“Excellent. I also cook, do my own laundry, and my sutures are like works of art.” When her only response was a lifted brow, Carter stuffed his hands in his pockets and started over. “Okay. The only thing I cook is lasagna, but it’s five-cheese if that makes a difference.”

“What about the laundry?”

“One load,” he admitted. “Colors, whites…I’m a guy, it doesn’t matter.”

Her mouth lifted in a slow smile. “And the sutures?”

“Oh, those are the real deal. No scars when I stitch you up.” Why couldn’t he stop thinking about kissing her again? Not just kissing her, but slipping his fingers through her belt loops and tugging her right up against him; sliding his hand through her hair and…

Focus
.

“Let’s see.” Carter cleared his throat. “I’ve had a subscription to
National Geographic
since I was ten, I think Pete Rose is an idiot but still deserves to be in the Hall of Fame, and I have a signed Stan Smyl jersey that only gets worn when I go to a game.”