Room for Love (33 page)

“I went down there to pitch her a TV program,” Nate ploughed on. “She came up here to tell me it’s been given the go ahead.”

“And the kissing was...” Carrie said, because she couldn’t say
You’re leaving?
without sounding endlessly needy.

Nate sighed, and dropped back to lean against the rail. “Apparently I was unclear about my intentions when I left London the first time. And she didn’t really believe me the second time.”

“Does she believe you now?” Carrie snuck a glance sideways at him. Nate had a funny half smile on his face, and was staring down at the no-longer-rotting wood at his feet.

“She knows I’m in love with you,” Nate said. “I think that was quite obvious.”

“Oh.” The night breezes were very loud tonight, Carrie thought, as they rushed past her, carrying with them the chatter of the cigar smokers upwind and the rustle of the leaves from the woods beyond, and the echo of Nate saying ‘love’ again and again and again.

“Don’t you want to know about the show?” he asked, turning to face her again.

“Not really,” Carrie said, because if he loved her, then why was he leaving?

Nate snuck a hand ’round to the back of her neck and angled her head so she had no choice but to look at him. His fingers were cool in the night air, and they sent a shiver across her shoulders. “Trust me. You really do.”

Carrie swallowed. “Then tell me.”

“Mel wanted me on board for a new TV show she’s developing. She promised that this time, there wouldn’t be any tiny city gardens. It would be a proper garden development project.”

Carrie nodded, hoping he couldn’t see the disappointment in her face. He met her gaze, and kept his fingers firm on the back of her neck as he said, “I told her I’m needed here.”

Carrie let out a long breath, hearing for the first time what he was really saying. He wasn’t leaving her.

Nate smiled. “But I suggested the gardens at the Avalon were the perfect project. They could film me developing the cutting garden and the vegetable patch. Everything.”

“And this would, presumably, pay you a handsome fee,” Carrie said, dipping her head so he had to let her go.

Nate shook his head. “I already have a job. Here. The program would pay the Avalon Inn. After all, it’s the inn’s gardens that’ll be the star of the show.”

Carrie stayed quiet for a long moment as she processed that. “I still think I’m missing something here.”

“We can hammer out the details of what you want to include and whether the inn features at all once the wedding’s over,” Nate said.

Carrie gave a slow nod. “It could be good publicity, I suppose.”

“The best.” Nate tipped his head to one side. “You should think about it. No need to make a decision until after the wedding. And I have one or two conditions of my own to factor in.”

“I’m sure you do,” Carrie said drily, wondering if they would be of the greenhouse or sex persuasion.

“But I hope that at least answers all your questions.” Nate was leaning a little closer now, and it would be so very easy to kiss him.

But there was still another question to ask. “All but one.”

“Anything.” Nate grinned at her. “Whatever you want.”

Carrie smiled warmly at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were the boy on the terrace, all those years ago?”

Nate winced, but before he could reply, there was a crash of breaking glass and a shout from the other end of the terrace.

“Come on,” Carrie said. “You can help me shift this lot off to bed while you come up with an acceptable answer.”

After all, she’d waited half her life. No point rushing the man now.

* * * *

Nate was still thinking about his answer as they shepherded Ruth’s father out of the bar chair where he’d fallen asleep and toward the garland-wrapped stairs, and as Izzie phoned around for taxis to take guests not staying at the inn to their hotel rooms down in the village. On the one hand, the answer was easy. It had been the best kiss of his life, until the night Carrie arrived at the Avalon again. But it was a long time ago, and his ego couldn’t take it if she didn’t remember him. What if it had been utterly unmemorable for her?

But he had a feeling Carrie wouldn’t take that for an answer. And he knew there were deeper reasons.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full there, Carrie.” Anna’s voice had an edge under the amusement. Nate turned to see her standing by the reception desk, coat on and bag at her feet, and experienced an intense feeling of satisfaction that she wouldn’t be spending the night under the Avalon roof.

“All part of the service, Anna,” Carrie said, shifting Patrick Archer’s arm around her shoulders. Nate tried to take more of the man’s weight, but the guy had a lot to go around. “You know that.”

“Absolutely,” Anna said, making no effort at all to help them. “Here’s hoping everything goes just as smoothly tomorrow.”

Carrie didn’t answer that, which Nate thought was a good move. But when they finally got Patrick up the stairs to the landing, she said, “Anna’s planning something. I just don’t know what.”

She was probably right, Nate realized. Which meant that tomorrow might be very interesting indeed. Still, “Nothing you can do about it tonight. She’s in a taxi on her way to the Arundel Hotel by now.”

“I suppose.” Carrie looked up at him, her expression still uncertain. Then she glanced away. “Anyway, I think I can manage from here. You should get to bed. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

Nate stared at Patrick, swaying even though they were both holding him up. His room was only halfway down the landing, but he was very drunk and mostly asleep. “I’ll help you deliver him to his wife,” he said, hoisting one arm around the other man’s waist again. “Besides, don’t we still have a conversation to have?”

Carrie gave him a quiet, unreadable look, and nodded. “Okay, then.”

Selena didn’t even wake when they tipped Patrick into bed beside her, much to Nate’s relief. He hadn’t been enthusiastic about the idea of explaining her husband’s state to her. As it was, Selena had her eye mask on and was snoring away like a drunk sailor.

They were both sure to be great fun in the morning.

Nate and Carrie tiptoed away from the Blue Room, and Nate paused when they reached the smaller set of stairs leading to the attic. Carrie rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. “Come on,” she said. “It’s too late to mess around with coyness.”

Nate smiled and followed her up.

Carrie didn’t bother putting the main light on in her bedroom, so Nate waited by the door until she’d weaved her way through all of Nancy’s knickknacks to switch on the bedside lamp. Guided by the pale yellow glow, he made his way to the bed, where Carrie stripped off her silky purple dress before slipping under the covers in her underwear.

“What happened to the Wedding Planner pajamas?” Nate stripped off his own jacket, and shirt, leaving his t-shirt on for the time being.

“A one-night-only occurrence,” Carrie said, yawning. She yawned. “Sorry you missed it.”

“I liked the hat best anyway.” Unfastening the top couple of buttons, Nate let his jeans fall to the floor and tugged off his socks. He was actually quite glad she hadn’t got changed. Her lingerie was a creamy lace, which matched her skin beautifully, and he had plans for it.

Carrie yawned again. Maybe in the morning.

“Could have been worse,” she told him. “Ruth’s pajamas had diamante stick-on gems spelling out
Future Mrs. Frobisher
.”

Nate slipped under the covers beside her. “Very disturbing.”

Reaching out a slim, pale arm, Carrie flicked the light switch again, and the room plunged into darkness. Nate snaked an arm out under her shoulders and tugged her closer to him, closing his eyes as her warm skin met his.

They lay in silence for a long moment, and if it hadn’t been for her uneven breathing Nate would have thought Carrie had fallen asleep. Then she said, “Have you thought of your answer yet?”

“Several,” Nate answered honestly. “I’m just not sure which one you want to hear.”

“Whichever one’s the truth.”

Nate sighed. “They’re all the truth.” There was silence again. Nate glanced at the illuminated face of Carrie’s alarm clock. It had gone past late and was now firmly in the very early morning. They really should get some sleep.

“I’m not the same person I was that summer,” he said finally. “I guess the real reason I didn’t tell you was because I wanted you to get to know me as I am now.”

“I barely knew you that summer,” Carrie pointed out. “Apart from that one night on the terrace. Pretty much all I knew was that you could dance and sing, and really kiss.”

Nate chuckled, and Carrie twisted ’round in his arms, rubbing all that cream lace against his skin. “What did you think I knew?” she asked.

“What everybody knew, that summer.” Nate sighed, wishing he couldn’t remember it quite so clearly. “That I was a problem child, sent to stay with relatives in the country for the summer to straighten me out. That Nancy had probably saved my life.”

Carrie’s pale hand snuck under the edge of his t-shirt, resting against his chest, radiating warmth. “I thought you’d just assume you knew me from the TV show,” he said.

“And I didn’t even manage that.” Carrie tucked her head under his chin, and Nate wrapped his arms ’round her back, wanting to keep her as close as he could for as long as possible.

“You clearly spent too much time working over the last six years, and not enough watching television.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” Carrie admitted.

She was so close and warm, that Nate almost didn’t want to ask his next question. Didn’t want to ruin it. But he still needed to know. “What are we doing here, Carrie?”

She froze in his arms, and Nate cursed himself, silently. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t have to...”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Carrie’s voice was small, and Nate made himself utterly still and quiet to hear her better. “I came here wanting to finally do something by myself, to prove myself. But you...” She shook her head, and her hair tickled his neck.

“I messed it all up for you.”

“You showed me that needing help didn’t mean what I was doing wasn’t worthwhile.” Carrie placed a soft kiss at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and Nate shivered. “So, thank you for that.”

“Even though I’m just an employee?” Nate asked, knowing he was pushing it, but unable to stop himself.

“You were never just an employee,” Carrie said, and shifted again so her leg was hooked over his hip. Nate’s whole body vibrated with the effort of staying still. Then Carrie kissed a trail up his neck to his ear, each kiss soft and tender and completely arousing.

Nate gave up any pretense of not moving.

* * * *

Carrie grinned as she felt the bed shift beneath her and Nate’s strong arms tuck her under him on the mattress. He’d held out longer than she’d expected, to be honest.

“You know,” she said, shivering at the sensation of Nate’s hands running up her sides, tracing the lines of her best lace bra. “That kiss had a very detrimental effect on my love life.”

“Really?” Nate murmured, his lips trailing after his fingers. Carrie’s hips twitched under him, and she could feel the muscles of his stomach against her thighs. “How so?”

Carrie gasped as his mouth reached the underside of her left breast, even as his hand brushed against the skin of the right. “Let’s just say,” she managed finally, “it was a hard act to follow.”

She could feel him smile against her skin at that. “And I was worried you wouldn’t remember.” Carrie tried to answer, but at that point Nate’s lips closed over the lace covering her nipple, and she forgot what she had intended to say.

Instead, she reached down and ran her hands up his back, grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it up over his chest. He gave a very endearing squeak of disappointment when she reached his neck, but obligingly released her to let her pull the fabric over his head and toss it out of the way.

“Fair’s fair,” he muttered, repeating the maneuver on her bra.

Absolutely fair, Carrie agreed silently, as his mouth went to work on her other nipple as soon as the material was out of the way.

She was starting to worry that kisses wouldn’t be the only things ruined for her, after tonight.

Time to get back some control of the situation. “So, is this one of your conditions?”

Nate released her breast and looked up at her, chin resting on her ribcage. “What?”

“Your conditions. For the TV show.”

With a long blink, Nate curled his fingers around her waist and pushed himself up. “You really want to talk about this now?”

“Only if you can multitask,” she said, pressing him down. He obediently followed her instruction, running kisses down her stomach. “I was just wondering. Last time we did this, you wanted a greenhouse and a kiss.”

“I wanted you,” Nate murmured against her skin. “I always want you.”

The rush of heat that ran across her skin could have been from his words or his touch, and Carrie didn’t much care which. “So, not a condition, then.” She cursed herself silently, even as she spoke, because Nate sighed into her stomach, then shifted back up the bed to lie on his side next to her, tugging at her waist until they were nose to nose. “I didn’t say stop.”