Three Brides, No Groom (10 page)

“It does?”

“Yeah.” How unnerving that Clark should have this effect on
her! “Are you anxious about the presentation on Monday?” she asked as a means of
changing the subject. The transition wasn’t smooth, but he was kind enough not
to mention it.

“Nervous? No, I can’t say that I am.”

Again he surprised her. She would have been a wreck.

“I know this program. Door Handle is my baby. All I have to do
is let it do the talking for me. If I had any doubts about its performance, any
qualms about its effectiveness, I’d be worried. But I have absolute faith in
her.”

“Her?”

“I think of Door Handle as female. At first she was
temperamental and unreasonable, but after a while we adjusted to each other, and
now we get along great.”

“You think women are temperamental and unreasonable?” she
asked, planting one hand on her hip and pretending to be offended.

“Not always,” he said, grinning, “but on occasion.” He went on
to explain a number of bugs he’d fixed as he’d worked on the program, and as he
spoke, he became more animated, more excited. Clark excited? This was a side of
him she’d never seen. Much of what he said, she’d read as she’d transcribed his
presentation. The words had seemed routine on the page, but when he spoke them,
she could actually feel his energy and enthusiasm.

She couldn’t help being impressed. Clark was nothing like
Eddie, who was fond of boasting about his athletic skills, bragging about his
accomplishments. Clark mentioned his own talents only in passing. It was the
program he was promoting, not himself.

Their conversation evolved slowly between bites of food, and
she found herself laughing again and again at his dry wit. When she was certain
she would burst if she ate a single morsel more, she set her chopsticks aside
and gave a satisfied sigh. “Thank you for dinner. I can’t remember the last time
I enjoyed myself so much.”

“I’m the one who’s grateful. I appreciate your staying late,”
he said as he dumped the empty containers into the wastebasket.

“I was happy to do it.” Now was the time to apologize. It was
either take advantage of the opportunity now or regret it later. “There’s
something you should know,” she said, capturing his attention. “On Monday I let
you think that I’d consider myself safe with you at the dance classes because I
saw you as a geek. But I didn’t—don’t—see you that way, Clark. I see you as a
gentleman—that’s why I’d feel safe. I think you’re…wonderful.”

He appeared confused, as if he’d put the matter out of his
mind. “Uh…don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t help it. Sometimes I do incredibly stupid things.”

For reasons she was hard-pressed to explain, she had the sudden
urge to cry. And then she understood.

Just before graduation she’d been sitting on top of the world,
and then, in a single afternoon, everything she’d considered important had come
crashing down on her shoulders. This was the first time in weeks that she felt
like her old self. It was thanks to Clark, and she was incredibly grateful to
have him for a friend.

She hid the attack of emotions behind busywork. Silently she
removed any telltale evidence of their “crime” by wiping off the desk. As she
reached for her purse, she glanced at her watch, uncertain of the bus schedule
this late in the evening. While it was close to eight o’clock, the sun had yet
to set.

She lingered a moment, realizing she’d enjoyed their time so
thoroughly that she was reluctant to leave. “Thanks again.” She eased her way
toward the door.

Clark nodded. “I’ve got a few things to finish up here,
otherwise I’d walk you to your car.”

She didn’t correct him. “Good night, Clark.”

“Good night, Carol.”

She left, and the sound of her footsteps echoed in the
corridor. Security let her out of the building. As luck would have it, she’d
just missed the bus and was doomed to wait an hour for the next. Dusk was
settling over the Puget Sound area, and a breeze rustled through the trees, the
wind weaving through the thick green branches, whispering secrets.

Twenty minutes later a red Mustang passed the bus stop, then
stopped abruptly, tires squealing. Slowly the car backed up toward her. The
passenger window lowered, and she recognized Clark.

“You’re taking the bus?” he asked, frowning. “Why didn’t you
tell me?”

“I was supposed to?”

“No…yes. Hop in and I’ll give you a ride home.” He leaned
across the passenger seat, unlatched the door and pushed it open.

“Thanks,” she answered, smiling to herself. After climbing in
and giving him her address, she snapped the seat belt into place. When he merged
with the freeway traffic, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, lulled
by the country music coming from the CD player. This man was full of surprises.
She would have assumed he was more of a classical-music fan. Russian or Italian
composers whose names all begin with
P.
Prokofiev or
Puccini. Men who’d suffered for their art. Her mental picture of him didn’t
include Carrie or Keith.

In her relaxed state, with her eyes closed, she grew brave. “I
want to ask you something, all right?”

“Ask away.”

“I want to know about the comment you made last week about not
seeing Eddie and me as a couple.”

“It’s true. I never did,” he returned promptly.

“Why not?” She’d always viewed them as perfect together. But
she respected Clark and was eager to hear his reasoning.

This time her question gave him pause. “Eddie was never right
for you. He doesn’t deserve you.”

While that might be true, she loved Eddie. Even now, she found
it hard to be angry with him. It wasn’t really Eddie who’d broken the engagement
but his agent. Mark was the one who’d talked Eddie into canceling the wedding,
and once Eddie came to his senses, he would be back.

“You’re wrong, you know,” she felt compelled to say, irritated
with herself now for asking. Perhaps she’d been looking to have Clark reassure
her that eventually her world would right itself. That it was only a matter of
time before Eddie recognized what he’d lost and wanted her back. She felt lonely
and alone, and yes, she missed him. Missed the life they’d dreamed about and
planned together. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Clark’s gaze briefly left the road as he glanced at her. “You
asked. If you aren’t going to like the answer, then don’t ask the question.”

“Have you always been like this?” she demanded, gesturing with
her hands, which refused to keep still. “Such an expert on everyone else’s
business?”

Her anger didn’t rile him—he didn’t even bother to respond—but
she was in rare form and wasn’t about to end the conversation. Not until she’d
gotten him to admit he was wrong. She
needed
him to
admit it.

“If you know me so well, then who do you think I
should
marry?” she demanded. There hadn’t been a
single man on the entire campus she could love more than Eddie. The fact she
recognized and accepted Eddie’s flaws assured her of that.

The question hung in the air between them like a piece of
spoiled meat. “You won’t like the answer to that one, either.”

“I asked, didn’t I?” she insisted. “I’m a big girl. You can say
it.” She defied him to come up with a suitable candidate. She was meant to be
with Eddie. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, and she was sure he would come
to his senses soon.

When Clark wasn’t immediately forthcoming with a response, she
asked again, this time with more feeling, more determination, more courage.

“Exactly who do you see me marrying, if not Eddie?”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and she almost
cheered. He was squirming in his seat. She loved it. Triumph rose in her. He
couldn’t come up with anyone better suited to her than Eddie.

Clark glanced at her again. “I could see you married to me,” he
admitted softly.

She gasped. It was as if someone had sucked out all the oxygen
from the car. “You?” she repeated. “You and me? Together?” She hadn’t expected
him to suggest
that
.

“I warned you that you weren’t going to like the answer.”

“You aren’t serious.” This was a joke. She should have known he
was just like every other man. His ego demanded he come up with a response, even
one so patently nonsensical.

“I’m serious.”

“It’s your ego, right?” she asked when he exited the freeway.
“I realize men have a problem with pride.”

“Men aren’t alone in that.”

“True enough.”

Clark and her? She couldn’t see it. They were as different as
two people could be. Not that there was anything wrong with diversity. But she
wasn’t right for him. He needed someone who understood him and his high-tech
world. Someone really wonderful.

He drove to her apartment building, parked and killed the
engine.

Apparently he was waiting for an invitation. “Would you like to
come inside?”

“Yes.”

“Any particular reason?”

Again he answered with a terse “Yes.”

She certainly had no objections to his company, nor to his
seeing her place. The studio apartment was small, but she’d made an effort to
decorate it nicely and was pleased with what she’d done. A few stuffed animals
sat here and there on the sofa, mostly so she could hold them while she watched
television. Her cheerleading pom-poms rested on the fireplace mantel, along with
the trophies she’d accumulated during her college years.

Clark stepped inside and glanced around appreciatively. “You’ve
made this homey, Carol.”

“Thanks.”

She gestured for him to make himself comfortable, and then
walked into the kitchen and turned on the faucet.

“What are you doing?” he asked, following her.

“Making coffee.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“I thought you’d like a cup….” Now that he’d asked, her making
coffee made about as much sense as everything else that had happened that
evening.

He moved toward her, his gaze holding hers. His eyes were dark
and intense, keen and purpose-filled. He reached out and rested his hands on her
shoulders. His touch was light, gentle and, in a small way, comforting. It had
been weeks since Eddie had held her, and she’d missed the closeness, the sense
of belonging.

“I’d like to prove my point.”

“Your point?” She wasn’t sure she understood.

With his eyes imprisoning hers, he gently drew her closer.
Apparently he planned to kiss her. Her eyes widened.

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her against the solid
length of his body. What she’d suspected earlier proved to be accurate—he was
both trim and muscular. Before she knew it, she was wrapped in the warm shelter
of his embrace. He smelled of musk and spicy Chinese food, an odd yet pleasing
combination.

Her heart pounded so loudly that she was certain he could hear
it. She raised her head, anticipating his lips, telling herself that she wanted
this over with so she could tell him that while his kiss was very nice, they
would never be anything more than friends.

Then it happened. Something she could neither explain nor
define. A yearning buried in the deepest part of her being broke free. If anyone
had told her such a thing was possible, she never would have believed it. She’d
been engaged, involved with one man for years. A man she’d loved—loved still,
despite what he’d done.

She’d always been a woman who knew what she wanted and went
after it. Never one content to wait patiently on the sidelines, she made a habit
of grabbing hold of opportunity with both hands.

That she should experience this…whatever it was, before Clark
even lowered his mouth to hers, left her feeling claustrophobic and fearful.
Perhaps there was something to what he was saying, although she had trouble
comprehending it.

Slowly, with deliberation that bordered on torture, he pressed
his lips to hers. Her heart went into overdrive. She couldn’t think to move. In
that moment she was his prisoner.

The instant his warm moist lips settled over hers, she was
lost. No kiss had ever been more potent. A frightening kind of excitement took
hold of her. She stood on tiptoe and slid her hands up his chest to link them
behind his neck.

The kiss deepened as she opened to him the way an orchid opens
after a rainfall. She wanted more. Her breathing came fast and hard, and she was
gratified to realize his breath was ragged, too.

He demanded, and she gave. Freely and without reserve. The heat
of their kiss felt hot enough to set off the kitchen smoke alarm as they angled
and twisted their mouths, seeking to give more, to take more. To
be
more.

When he eased his mouth from hers, his chest was heaving.
Clinging to him, she kept her eyes closed and forced air into her lungs. Even
now her heart pounded in her chest like a boxer’s fist hammering a punching bag.
Never in all her life had she experienced a kiss as profound as this.

She should have known it was too perfect, too beautiful. She
should have known it would never last.

It didn’t.

Within seconds he ruined the most beautiful kiss of her
life.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” he said. “You don’t know yourself
nearly as well as you think you do.”

Chapter 3

C
arol couldn’t decide if she was relieved
or disappointed when Clark’s secretary returned from vacation. Mrs. Derby was
exactly as she’d pictured her. Late fifties and meticulously groomed, in a dark
business suit with her gray hair primly pulled back in a bun. Punctual, precise
and particular. Her personality meshed perfectly with Clark’s needs. Everyone
said they got along famously.

Carol missed seeing Clark on a daily basis, but at the same
time she was grateful they didn’t have to spend a lot of time together. Not
after what had happened when he kissed her. Especially when she considered her
response. She’d gone over that night countless times, but she had yet to make
sense of it.

Ego had prompted Clark to kiss her. That part she understood.
What she had trouble reconciling was her response. After a while she decided the
best thing to do was put it out of her mind, banish that night and the kiss from
her thoughts.

Fate seemed to be on her side. Clark didn’t have a lot of free
time on his hands. Door Handle, his software program, had received a warm
reception from Softline’s board of directors, and he’d been granted the
additional funds he’d requested, along with a handful of staff.

Whenever she saw him, he was surrounded by others, all making
demands on his time and expertise. His gaze would follow her, and she made a
point of greeting him with a smile or a wave. He had to bow out of the ballroom
dancing classes, and while she realized he regretted having to renege on his
promise, he had no choice.

Every now and again they would bump into each other in the
cafeteria or in the building lobby. He would always stop and ask how she was
doing, but she had the feeling the question needed to be rephrased: how are you
doing
without Eddie?
Her answer was the same every
time. “Good, really good.” But the truth was, she’d expected to hear from Eddie
long before now.

She didn’t need to ask Clark how
he
was doing; the answer was obvious. He worked too many hours, ate poorly and,
from the darkening shadows beneath his eyes, she also suspected he wasn’t
getting enough sleep. While his poise remained unshakable, she instinctively
recognized he was frazzled.

As for her, the job with Softline was ideal, because it offered
terrific flexibility. She was able to substitute teach as long as the schools
let her know in advance. The more time she spent in the classroom, the more she
loved teaching. Kids of all ages loved her, and she found herself proving to be
a popular teacher. Her performance reviews were full of praise, and she was
convinced it was only a matter of time before she was hired permanently.

Teaching had been her dream from the time she was five, when
she’d lined up her dolls in front of a small chalkboard. Wearing her mother’s
high heels and a broad-brim hat her grandmother had given her, along with
several long beaded necklaces, she’d lectured her rapt audience on vowel sounds
and the importance of not eating glue.

As much as possible, she tried not to think about Eddie. But
surely he missed her. Surely he thought about her. Surely he wasn’t so busy that
everything they’d shared no longer mattered to him. She simply couldn’t believe
it. After four years of daily contact, she’d simply assumed he would feel as if
a part of himself was missing without her at his side.

The waiting was agony. The not knowing. He haunted her dreams,
and often she awoke with her heart heavy and her emotions raw. In the beginning
it had been much easier. Her anger and frustration had effortlessly carried her
through the first few weeks. Later she’d focused her fury on Mark Raferty,
Eddie’s agent. No one could convince her that Mark wasn’t responsible for
turning Eddie against her.

As August rolled into September, she began to blame herself for
being foolish enough to hold on to any hope of Eddie’s wanting her back in his
life. Surely he would have contacted her by now if that was the case. Even with
Mark’s disapproval, he would have found a way to reach her.

He hadn’t, and that told her everything.

The first Sunday of September would either break her or make
her, she decided. That was the day the Denver Broncos would host the Seattle
Seahawks in Mile High Stadium.

She promised herself that she wouldn’t so much as turn on the
television. It was as simple as that. Why torment herself? Nothing good would
come of seeing Eddie suited up in a Bronco uniform. Viewing him, even on
television, was sure to make her heartache ten times worse. She would be crazy
to make herself miserable on purpose.

It didn’t take her long to admit that a promise made was a
promise broken. On Sunday morning she dutifully sat in front of the television
screen, dressed for the occasion in baggy jeans and a Queen Anne sweatshirt.

The national anthem was playing when her doorbell chimed. She
tore her gaze from the screen to run to the door.

“Clark,” she breathed, surprised to see him.

“How’re you doing?” he asked, and looked past her to the
television.

“I assumed you’d be at the office,” she said. For a while she’d
toyed with the idea of inviting him over just so she wouldn’t turn on the
football game. But knowing Clark, he would have felt obligated to accept, and
she didn’t want that. Not when he was so busy with his career.

“I
should
be at the office,” he
told her, and yawned, stepping into the apartment.

“Then why aren’t you?”

His eyes were dark and serious. “You need me.”

He removed his jacket and made himself comfortable on the sofa,
stretching his arms out along the back. “I know you. Eddie’s playing, and you
wouldn’t be able to resist.”

She couldn’t very well argue with him.

He patted the space next to him. “Are you going to sit down and
watch the game or not?”

“I wasn’t going to watch the entire game,” she rushed to tell
him. “I planned on changing channels just as soon as…” The lie died on her lips
when his gaze swung from the television to her with laser accuracy.

“Okay, okay, so I thought I’d check it out. Eddie’s the
second-string quarterback, so it’s highly unlikely he’ll even play.”

“You’re still pining for him, aren’t you?”

“Not as much.” Embarrassed that what he’d said was true, she
downplayed her feelings. She had never thought of herself as weak, but that was
the way Eddie made her feel. Years ago, in one of her psychology classes, she
remembered the professor explaining that a person’s sense of emotional
well-being was directly related to the amount of control they had in a
situation. Eddie was the one in control of her, and it was time to let go. If
only she could!

“Sit down,” Clark said again, and again patted the space next
to him.

She did as he asked. Leaning against the thick cushions, she
pretended to find football and everything that went with it exceedingly boring.
It wasn’t long, however, before she’d scooted to the edge of her seat,
enthralled with the game and clutching her teddy bear to her chest.

“You hungry?” Clark asked.

So intent was she on the action on the football field, she
barely heard him. When the Seahawks completed a pass she leaped from the sofa
and danced a jig in front of the coffee table. “First down. Did you see that?”
she cried, thrusting her arm in the air. At his blank look, she added, “We just
completed from third and ten.”

“Wonderful. What have you got to eat around here?”

“Not much.” She sat back down and pressed her fingers to her
lips as a Seattle running back carried the ball five yards, broke free from a
tackle and gained three more for a total of eight. It was highly satisfying to
envision the Seahawks beating Denver on their own turf. Her heart would ache
just a little less if that was the case. It was a matter of honor, of pride, of
triumph over a man with a fickle heart.

In three months’ time, she had become petty and childish. Too
bad. She hadn’t felt this good in weeks. Months!

Clark took it upon himself to examine the contents of her
kitchen, which in her tiny apartment was directly behind the sofa. She heard him
opening and closing cupboards and grumbling under his breath.

“I haven’t bought groceries this week,” she said over her
shoulder. “There’s some bread for a sandwich, though.” If she remembered
correctly.

She heard the bread box open and close, then heard him
muttering something about preferring his bread white, not green.

At last she heard a triumphant “Ah!” She couldn’t imagine what
he’d found, but whatever it was appeared to satisfy him. He set the microwave to
humming and soon the apartment with filled with the distinctive sound and
mouth-watering aroma of popcorn.

Her stomach growled. She hoped he realized he was a dead man if
he didn’t intend to share. Her thoughts quickly returned to the football game
when Seattle fumbled the ball, setting up the Broncos for an easy score. She
fell to her knees and pounded the carpet. “No, no, no.”

“Something happen?” Clark asked, sitting back down.

She toyed with the idea of being flippant and decided against
it. He might get angry and decide to keep the only edible food in her entire
apartment to himself.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, and sat down next to
him, eyeing his bounty.

She generally ate directly from the popcorn bag, but he had
emptied the contents into a ceramic bowl. A paper towel protected his knee.

“You’re going to share that, aren’t you?”

He eyed her skeptically. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

He chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

Old habits being what they were, Carol gave a one-woman cheer,
leaping high in the air when, several plays later, Seattle scored their first
touchdown of the game.

“You’re rooting for Seattle?” Clark asked.

“Of course.” His question irritated her. Naturally she would
cheer for Seattle. This city was her home, not to mention that her heartless
ex-fiancé happened to play for the opposing team. She would love to see the
Denver Broncos get their butts kicked purely for having the audacity to draft
Queen Anne’s star quarterback.

“What about Eddie?” Clark asked next, his words hitting her
square in the chest. Too close to her heart for comfort.

“What about him?” How well she could dupe Clark into thinking
she didn’t care about Eddie remained to be seen. “Football’s been a part of my
life for as long as I can remember. You think I’m only pretending to root for
Seattle just to spite Eddie?” She made the question sound as ludicrous as
possible to hide the fact that in fact that was exactly what she was doing.
“You’re probably unaware that both my brothers played high-school and college
football. It’s in our family’s blood. It’s only natural I should love the
sport.” Too late, she realized she’d given far more of an explanation than
necessary. Clark
knew,
and nothing she said would
convince him otherwise.

Turning back to face the television, her eyes fell on the
screen at the precise moment the camera focused on Eddie Shapiro. He was
standing on the sidelines, looking fit and muscular, and so handsome that merely
seeing him produced a sharp unexpected jab of pain.

Pleased with the media attention, he smiled into the camera.
And it wasn’t just any smile, either. It was a special smile that held deep
meaning for her. It was the smile he’d always directed at her after he’d
completed a touchdown pass. The smile that reminded her of his love, and the
promise that they were a team and would always be together.

Yeah, right.

As if he was looking directly at her, he winked. Too late to
tame her reaction, she gasped. Pride demanded that she look away, but she found
she couldn’t. She broke into a cold sweat and felt as if she was about to be
violently ill, and still she couldn’t force herself to stop watching.

Noiselessly Clark knelt beside her on the carpet and wrapped
his arms around her, hugging her close.

Gripping his upper arms, her nails digging into his flesh, she
waged a fierce inner battle between the demands of her pride and the intensity
of her pain. She squeezed her eyes closed and trapped the emotion inside in her
chest until she gasped for air. She was hardly aware of the tightening sensation
in her lungs until they felt about to burst.

The release was instantaneous, and with it came a flood of
tears. She didn’t know which would be worse—letting Clark stay to witness this
humiliation, or requesting that he leave, so she could bear her pain alone. She
didn’t want him with her, and yet she needed him. Needed to be held and
reassured. Needed to be comforted.

Whispering soothing words, he gently rocked her, the palm of
his hand pressing the back of her head. With nothing left to hide, she slipped
her arms around his neck and clung. He was her rock, her stability, her life
preserver.

He brushed the hair from her cheek. “It’s going to be all
right.”

She hated to disagree with him, especially now when he was
being so kind, but she couldn’t help herself. “No, it isn’t.”

“Carol, trust me. It won’t always be this bad.”

“Yes, it will. I’ll never get over him. I fell in love with a
worm, but I never expected this to happen.”

“Eddie Shapiro didn’t deserve you.”

She ran the back of her hand over her tear-streaked cheeks. “I
know that, everyone does…but that doesn’t make me love him any less.”

He spoke into her hair. “Someday you’ll look back on this and
wonder what you ever saw in him.”

“I already do, and it doesn’t help.”

She felt him smile against her temple. She was the undeserving
one. She didn’t deserve a friend as wonderful as Clark. That he put up with her
was nothing short of amazing.

“Clark,” she whispered, lifting her head from his chest and
meeting his gaze through tear-filled eyes. “Kiss me.”