The Reconstruction of Carla Millhouse (9 page)

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Carla barely whispered, her eyes wide. “And you’re getting paid for something you love to do, as well.” Richard felt warmth rise within him. Why did just touching her make his heart beat faster? Abruptly he removed his hand.

“That, too.” Carla’s hand trembled as she picked up her coffee cup.

Their waitress shuffled over with their sandwiches and refilled their cups with coffee before disappearing once more into the rapidly filling restaurant.

“When it’s published, I’d like to give my little niece, Becky, an autographed copy.”

Smiling, Carla replied, “No problem.”

Carla wondered again why such a wonderful guy like Richard was single. He never mentioned dating anyone and she found that a little odd.

“Richard, I just realized that you never really talk about yourself.”

He finished chewing and swallowed the healthy bite he’d taken of his turkey club. “What do you want to know?”

“Like why no woman has snatched you up—”

His palm shot out as if to ward off some impending evil. “Hold it right there. If this is some prelude to setting me up on a date with one of your friends—”

“No. I was only curious, that’s all. But if dating is a touchy subject…”

“Look, I don’t want to be rude, but drop the subject.” His words were like ice, removing all the warmth that had surrounded them.

“Okay. I’m sorry I brought the subject up,” she said shaken by his 180 degree shift in mood. Her appetite had left along with the warmth and she began to pick at her salad, wanting to flee.

No one said anything for a few minutes. It felt as if an iron curtain had fallen between them and Carla found the silence deafening. Finally, she put her napkin down and began to rise out of her seat.

Richard looked up. His green eyes were clouded with emotion. “Wait. Please don’t go. Not like this.”

“I’m really sorry, Richard. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Please sit down, Carla. You did nothing wrong. It’s me…” he began and paused.

She sat back down and waited for him to speak again.

“I’m not certain if I’m ready to get involved with another woman just yet.”

This was the first time that Richard was really opening up to her. Whenever they’d spoken in the past, she’d always felt he’d been holding back. She reached out and placed her hand on his.

Richard wet his lips and swallowed hard. “I was engaged to marry someone I’d imagined spending the rest of my life with. I’d already decided on having at least three kids and a huge backyard for them to grow up in.”

“What happened?”

“Two weeks before our wedding, my fiancé ran off with my best man, who I had thought was my best friend.”

“Oh, how awful. I’m so sorry, Richard.”

“Not as sorry as I was. I had to tell my family, my friends that the marriage was off, fending off horrible questions like—didn’t you see it coming? Even though it’s been over two years, it still hurts.”

She squeezed his hand gently. “I understand. I’ll never bring up the subject again.”

“I get enough from my mother.”

“I can imagine.”

“No. You haven’t a clue, but let’s not go there,” Richard said wryly.

The way he said it made Carla laugh. He laughed with her and all the warmth they’d felt prior to his revelation enveloped them both like a cozy blanket. Richard felt a sudden desire to crush Carla to him. To breathe in her wildflower scent as he molded her body to his. He blinked and swallowed hard. What the hell was he thinking? Nothing could ever come of that. The occasional hugs they shared were one thing, but these passionate desires were ridiculous. She was a married woman—taken—and definitely off limits. That would be more than getting involved. It would be playing with fire.

* * *

As Carla drove home, she thought about the conversation she’d had with Richard. How could any woman do such a horrible thing to a guy like him? He was wonderful in so many ways. If she were free, she would want a man just like him.
Oh, boy, what the hell am I thinking?

Chapter Twelve

Richard paced back and forth in his condo in Phoenix. Normally, he’d enjoy the view from his living room window of the golf course and majestic mountains in the background, but not today. He was too distracted. His sister, Ellen, had called the night before to invite him to a birthday party she was having for her five-year-old daughter, Sarah the following Sunday. The entire family would be there and he’d be reminded of how alone he really was being unattached and without children. He’d feel left out somehow. Suddenly, he knew he didn’t want to be by himself this afternoon, either and immediately thought of Carla. Of course he did. He thought of Carla a lot. He knew that her husband usually worked on Saturdays so it would be safe to call. Safe to call? It sounded as if they were doing something illicit. They were just friends, for goodness sake. He chose to ignore the fact that he was going to use a shopping expedition as an excuse for spending time with Carla.

She answered on the second ring. “Hi, Richard!” she said cheerfully.

“What are you doing?” Richard asked tapping a pen on the kitchen table.

“Don’t you want to ask what I’m wearing first?” Carla teased.

“It’s not that kind of phone call,” he said, smiling.

“Aha!
Now
he tells me. What’s up?”

“Are you busy?”

“Why? What do you have in mind?”

He went for it. “I need to get a present for my niece and thought you might like to go shopping with me today.”

“When?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

She chuckled. “Where did you intend to go?”

“Oh, I dunno. Any suggestions?”

“Are you looking for clothing or toys?” Carla asked.

“Clothes sound like something her parents should get her. Not much fun,” Richard chuckled, remembering how he hated getting socks for his birthday.

“Good. I love toy stores.”

“I thought you just might. Have any in mind?”

“How’s about the big Toys R Us on W. Dunlop Avenue in Phoenix?” Carla suggested.

“That sounds like an excellent idea. When can you get there?”

“Give me about forty-five minutes.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay, see ya, then,” she said and hung up smiling as she raced to get ready.

Richard was thrilled and did a happy dance into his bedroom before putting on a pair of jeans and a sweater.

Carla was already there by the time Richard arrived at the store. He gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. She smelled good, wearing the same scent she always wore—one that reminded him of fields of flowers. He’d asked her what it was and she’d said Night Musk, nothing special. It was to him, though, and he associated the scent with her. He’d once heard that colognes and perfumes reacted differently on each person. As far as he was concerned, it would never smell as provocative on any other woman. He held the door for her and they went inside.

“I love toy stores. Next to bookstores and office supply places, toy stores are right up there,” Carla gushed, excitedly. “How old is your niece?”

“Five, going on twenty-five.”

She chuckled. “Aren’t all kids, today?”

“Where’ll we start?”

“What does she like? Is she into dolls, drawing or games?”

Richard shrugged.

“Okay, then. What does she watch on TV? Most little girls her age love
Dora the Explorer
.”

“Is that the little Hispanic kid?” he asked.

Carla nodded. “Does she like her?”

“Yes. She did talk about her—a lot.”

Carla laughed. “Yeah, kids can chatter away incessantly. I listen to them all the time when I go to the malls. It helps with my writing.”

Richard was especially glad that Carla was into kids and knew all about Dora. He paid little attention to kiddie shows and was clueless.

“Any thoughts on how much you want to spend?” Carla asked looking at how busy the place was.

Richard shrugged. “I’m flexible. Let’s see what’s available.”

“Great idea,” she agreed, as they followed signs indicating specific age groups.

Richard watched Carla’s face light up when she saw something she liked. It was refreshing to see how such simple things seemed to please her. He’d wager she also loved the circus, amusement parks and zoos.

They found lots of Dora toys and decided to get an activity box filled with crayons, paint, paper and coloring books to stimulate Sarah’s creativity.

At the register Carla turned to Richard and admitted, “You know, I’d have a ball with this kit.”

“I bet you would. Shall I buy another?” he teased.

“No—but, thanks, anyway.” Carla smiled, and Richard’s eyes fell to her lips. They were plump and pink and soft-looking. He had to restrain himself from reaching out and running his fingertip over them.

They exited the store.

“I really appreciate your help,” Richard said.

“My pleasure.”

“Got time for coffee?” he asked, not wanting her to go home.

Carla glanced at her watch. “Sure, but I can’t stay too long just in case Martin comes home early for dinner.”

“Oh, yeah.” Suddenly all the euphoria he’d been feeling seemed to slip away. “Starbucks, it is.”

As they walked to Starbucks, which was nearby, Richard indulged in his favorite fantasy. If he kept seeing Carla at the gym whenever he could, which was better than not seeing her at all, he’d eventually grow on her. Then, one day, she’d wake up and realize that her husband wasn’t worth losing any sleep over. She’d send Martin packing, get a divorce and see that she and Richard were perfect for one another. The only problem with this fantasy was that it was just that. A daydream he doubted he could sustain much longer. It was becoming harder and harder to resist his urge to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

He wanted to slowly run his fingertips down her body as he explored every inch of her beautiful body. And those breasts. God. How he wished to taste them. Only it was pure fantasy and couldn’t happen while she remained with her poor excuse of a husband.

* * *

Carla shut down her computer. She couldn’t concentrate. When she got home after the shopping trip with Richard, she tried to pick up where she left off on the picture book, however, she couldn’t remain focused. Her mind kept wandering back to him and how much fun she had in his company. Martin hated to go shopping and would never be caught dead in a toy store of all places. Sometimes she wished she could rewrite Martin’s character and make it more like Richard’s.

She wondered if she and Martin had anything in common, anymore.

What worried her more was the fact that feelings she should have with Martin were coursing through her when she was with Richard. Whenever he hugged or kissed her hello on her cheek, the actions may have been platonic, but the electricity that arced through her wasn’t.

Nor was the fact that she enjoyed it and craved more.

As usual, when her musings strayed into dangerous waters, she forced herself to think of other things. Stuff that didn’t include wondering how Richard’s soft-looking lips would feel on her own or how it would feel to run her hands through his thick dark hair.

Chapter Thirteen

As Thanksgiving approached, there was a festive air in the streets, which was totally lost on Jessie as she made her way home. She’d fallen asleep the night before after having cried herself to the point of exhaustion. Nearly oversleeping the following morning, she’d rushed off to work leaving the place as trashed as it was the day before. Expecting a worse scene to greet her, she was shocked to the point of believing in miracles when she opened the front door.

The first thing that she noticed was the smell. Or rather, the lack of it. Gone was the hateful stale ashtray odor and in its place was an orange blossom fragrance as if she’d walked into an orchard. Entering the den, she didn’t have to watch her step, for there were no empty beer cans on the floor or on the cocktail table. Speaking of which, its glass top had been wiped clean of rings and salsa droppings. The area rug had been vacuumed and the TV wasn’t on mute, but shut off entirely. A smile broke out on her face as she wondered where Jake was. Then she heard noise coming from the kitchen.

She walked into the room to investigate and her heart caught in her throat. The table had been set and Jake was standing in front of the stove stirring a pot with a large wooden spoon. The smell wafting from the pot was a pleasant one and she heard an involuntary growl from her stomach. He’d made dinner. Had God finally returned from vacation to answer her prayers?

Jake turned to face her. He’d even shaved. In his warm brown eyes was the mischievous twinkle she’d fallen in love with so many years ago.