I Waxed My Legs for This? (12 page)

The next morning, the sun was streaming through Encore’s window, mocking Carrie with its brightness.

She took another slug of her coffee and tried to pretend she was enjoying the brilliant Erie sunshine.

She took the thought back.

She wasn’t
pretending
to enjoy it, she
was
enjoying it.

She was going to enjoy the rest of the day and the rest of her life. She didn’t need Jack, the panty-thieving, coatroom-kissing, bane of her existence.

She didn’t need him.

The bell above the front door rang, as merrily as the sun shone through the window.

Disgusted with the lovely weather and the sweet chiming of bells, and most of all, disgusted with herself, Carrie took another quick gulp of coffee to fortify herself. She walked into the main room and pasted her customer-smile on her face.

“Hello?” she said to an unknown back.

The gray-haired patron turned and a smile creased her face. “Carrie, I’m here for Jaycee’s dress.”

Carrie’s business smile was replaced by a genuine one. Mrs. Smith was a good customer, but more than that she was an old friend. “We just finished it this morning, Mrs. Smith.”

“I wish Jaycee was here,” the older lady worried. 

Not only had Mrs. Smith been a neighbor for years, Carrie knew and really liked Jaycee as well.

She patted the older woman’s back, trying to reassure her. “We had her measurements and, as long as they were accurate, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“But we’re pressed for time. If I get it to the awards and there’s something wrong with the fit, I’ll never be able to get it fixed in time,” the older lady worried.

“I’m sorry. I can get one of the forms out so you can see how it hangs on that, if it would reassure you,” Carrie offered.

She dug through a rack and pulled out the dress Mrs. Smith had come to pick up.

It was a deep turquoise silk, elegantly simple and one of the best things Carrie had ever designed and made.

She was so thrilled to sew in the little label that proclaimed
A Carrington Rose Original
, with a tiny picture of a rose.

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Smith fretted, stroking the turquoise silk.

“Mrs. Smith, I made this to the exact measurements Jaycee sent us. It should be perfect.”

The bell on the door rang again and both women turned.

Carrie’s professional smile stood her in good stead as she pasted it on her face, as if the person entering was just another customer.

“Can I help you?” she asked, as blandly businesslike as she could muster.

“You can explain this,” Jack said, tossing a package on the counter next to Jaycee Smith’s silk.

“And when you’re done with your explanation, I’ll explain why Sandy was on the island,” Jack said.

Carrie drew herself up and met his glare with one of her own. “That package should be pretty self-explanatory. You’ve been asking for your jersey back for a long time. I finally got around to having the darned thing cleaned and sent it to you.”

“Hi, Jack,” Mrs. Smith said.

Jack had always had a sweet spot for Mrs. Smith. He smiled at her. “It’s good to see you.”

Then he turned to Carrie and asked, “You couldn’t bring it yourself?”

“I didn’t think that would be wise. Now, as you can see, I’m with a customer,” Carrie said, praying he’d take the hint.

She turned her back on him and concentrated on Mrs. Smith.

“I can wait,” Jack said at the same moment Mrs. Smith said, “That’s fine, dear.”

Carrie’s smile felt brittle, but she kept it in place. “No, it’s not fine, Mrs. Smith. Here at Encore, we value our customers and personal matters are just that,
personal
. If you want to talk to me, Jack, you can call me this evening.” She didn’t want to hear his explanations and she didn’t want to offer any of her own.

“Oh, as long as Mrs. Smith doesn’t mind, I’d rather talk now.” Jack moved back into Carrie’s line of sight.

Mrs. Smith got a good look at Jack and she beamed. “I don’t mind at all. Jack, how tall are you again?”

He smiled, his courtly manners in place. “And I’m five foot eleven.”

Mrs. Smith’s smile grew broader. “I wonder if you’d mind doing a little favor for me while you continue your conversation with our Carrie.”

Carrie, sensing where the woman was going, jumped in. “Mrs. Smith, I’m sure Jack doesn’t have the time. He’s probably the middle of some very lawyerly business.”

Jack glared at her and smiled at the older woman. “I’d be happy to help one of my favorite ladies. I’ve had years of practice helping ladies in distress.” He gave Carrie a significant look.

He was actually throwing her little catastrophes in her face?

All those years she let him play the gallant and allowed him to be the white knight who rode to her rescue and now he was going to throw it out there as if it was some sort of trial he’d endured?

Well, he’d tied his own noose. She’d let him hang.

“Well, if you’re sure you have time to help,” she said, smiling at him sweetly.

Mrs. Smith beamed. “Oh, I’m so relieved. I don’t have any friends who wear the same size as my Jaycee.”

“Pardon?” Jack asked.

The smile on Carrie’s face wasn’t her professional one at all. It was total, utter jubilation. “Just follow us, Jack. Mrs. Smith won’t take up too much of your time.”

He followed, looking at both women with suspicion in his eyes. “Maybe I should have asked just what the favor was.”

“Maybe you should have, but you didn’t.”

Carrie might have pulled Jack into a troublesome situation or two, but he’d done this one all by himself.

Yep, Carrie was prepared to let him hang.

As a matter of fact, it looked like she had front row tickets for the hanging.

“Ah, Mrs. Smith, just what did you want me to help you with?” he asked nervously.

“You’re just about the same height as my Jaycee, heavier, to be sure, but close enough,” Mrs. Smith said, wearing her pride in her daughter like a garment. “She’s getting an award from Tennessee—she graduated from there, you know and they’re proud she’s playing in the WNBA—this weekend and we ordered this dress weeks ago, but before I take it, I want to see how it’s going to look on.”

“And she’s coming to the shop now to try it on?” Jack asked. Before she could answer, he hurriedly tried another option. “Her car and yours are both on the fritz and you’d like me to go pick her up?”

Carrie could hear the hope in his voice and watched it wither away to resignation when Mrs. Smith said, “No, silly. She plays for the New York Liberty and couldn’t afford the time it would take to stop over in Erie just to pick up a dress. I’m meeting her in Tennessee, so I’m picking it up for her.”

“Then who...” Jack started to ask.

Carrie could see the moment of realization hit him.

He shook his head. “Oh, Mrs. Smith, I don’t think—”

Carrie just laughed and led Jack into a back dressing room.

“Carrie?” he said.

Like she might help him. She was feeling uncharacteristically vindictive. “Come on, big guy. It’s just a little dress. Why, in Scotland, men wear skirts all the time.”

“Kilts,” he corrected. “And we’re not in Scotland. I don’t think Mrs. Smith has a kilt in her hand.” He eyed the turquoise cloth as if it were a guillotine just waiting to drop on his head.

Carrie patted his shoulders. “Ah, you’re manly enough to handle this and if you want to talk to me on company time, you’re going to have to do something for the company.”

At the door to the dressing room Carrie handed Jack the dress. “We’ll overlook your hairy legs, after all, you didn’t know you’d be dressing today. Although, for future reference, hairy legs are frowned upon when wearing silk.”

“You shouldn’t tease the poor boy,” Mrs. Smith admonished. “Really, Jack. I do appreciate this.”

Jack snatched the dress and went behind the curtain.

“You can leave your socks on,” Carrie called. “The floor can get cold.”

“Dear, you’re not nice,” Mrs. Smith whispered, though her merry eyes sparkled with humor.

“So, do you want to talk now?” Carrie called to Jack.

“Wait until I’m out,” he said. Minutes went by before Jack called, “How do you fasten the back of this?”

“If you’re decent, I’d be happy to give you a hand,” Carrie called through the curtain.

“Come on in,” Jack hollered.

Both women could hear a muttered string of curses in a male voice.

Carrie smiled at the older woman. “Just have a seat, Mrs. Smith. We’ll be out in a minute.”

She walked through the curtain and would have turned around and walked right back out if Jack hadn’t caught her wrist.

“You’re not decent,” she said.

The dress wasn’t even on his body yet. He was standing there in just his boxers and a smile.

“I NEVER SAID I WAS decent. I said come in,” Jack, always the lawyer, argued. “And I want to know why you sent that package.”

“You asked for your jersey back right before the trip.” Carrie squirmed, trying to break free from his grip.

She’d never noticed how strong he was.

“I’ve asked for it back for years, but it didn’t do me a bit of good. You always had some excuse. We both know I only ask out of habit, to tease you. So why now? Why did you return that worn-out jersey now?”

“I thought I should,” Carrie said quietly.

“Why?” he pressed.

“Because of Sandy. I should have returned it years ago. I...” She’d heard confession was good for the soul, but Carrie’s soul didn’t feel the need to make full disclosure. It was too late. Sandy was back. Maybe if she were out of the picture, Jack and Sandy would make a go of it.

“Sandy’s out of my life and has been out of my life for quite a while.” She saw the moment he understood. “What you saw—”

Carrie didn’t want to know. “Come on, Jack, Mrs. Smith is waiting.”

She helped him slip the dress in place and then fastened the back for him.

“It looks good,” she said, trying to tease him like she used to, but it sounded hollow even to her ears.

“We’re not through talking,” Jack argued, following her from the dressing booth.

“Oh, don’t you look lovely,” Mrs. Smith cooed as she rose from her seat and walked toward Jack. “Oh, but Carrie, look the hem isn’t quite straight here.”

“I can fix that in a jiffy, Mrs. Smith.” Carrie went behind the counter. She took the pincushion and, eyeballing the dress, grabbed the appropriate spool of thread.

“Right here,” Mrs. Smith said, pointing to the offending dip in the hem.

Thankful for the distraction, she said, “Jack, would you mind climbing on the stool here, so I can hem this. It’s always best to hem on a real person. The forms just aren’t the same.”

Jack climbed on the stool and Carrie walked to the left side of the dress. “There, let me pull this out and reposition it.”

“So now that I have your full attention,” Jack said. “Let’s talk about Sandy.”

“Pardon?” she asked, her mouth full of pins.

Why wouldn’t he just let it go?

Why was he here, why was he pushing like this?

She’d thought he’d come to her yesterday, but he hadn’t. She’d gone for her Sunday run by herself, actually running the whole way. She hadn’t even bought a single piece of junk food. Her heart wasn’t in it.

“You heard me,” Jack said, turning slightly as Carrie gave him a little push. “You said Sandy was back. I want to explain.”

“Who’s Sandy?” Mrs. Smith asked.

“Sandy is the woman he loves.” Carrie sighed and ripped out a little more of the seam. “I took him away to get over her. He’s been pining away for months, throwing himself into his work. And, while we were there, Jack and I, well we... Oh, it’s not important. Sandy came back, you see. Jack’s always loved her. He’ll see that after he’s over being mad. He just feels guilty about me.”

“He doesn’t look guilty,” Mrs. Smith said knowingly.

“But he is. He wants Sandy, but doesn’t want to hurt me. He’ll remember what’s important soon and we’ll go back to being friends.” Carrie felt her voice hitch.

Well, she wasn’t going to cry. She’d been crying for days and it hadn’t done her a bit of good. She was done with that—done pining for Jack Templeton.

“Which was?” Mrs. Smith asked.

“Was what?” Carrie whispered.

She’d been lost in her train of thought and had misplaced the uncomfortable conversation for a minute.

“What was important?” Mrs. Smith asked.

“Yes, what?” Jack added.

She sucked in a deep breath as the needle bit into the silk.

The time had come to tell Jack the whole truth. “Sandy and Jack. They’re what was important. What is important. I thought I was taking him away to get over her, but I really was being selfish.”

“How?” both Jack and Mrs. Smith asked.

If she confessed what she’d done, maybe Jack wouldn’t feel so guilty. Maybe he’d take Sandy back and get on with the life he was meant to have.

“I took him away because I wanted him, I wanted to have my way with him,” she said in one burst, needing to get it off her chest.

Jack choked as Mrs. Smith asked, “Your what?”

“My way. I took Jack to Amore Island because I’ve wanted him since high school and I don’t mean I wanted him as a friend, though I’ve always treasured his friendship. I wanted him in a totally physical way. I thought I was over it. After all, I’ve dated a lot of men since then and some were better looking than Jack—”

Mrs. Smith looked him up and down. “Oh, I find that hard to believe.”

“No, really. Why Tucker was a model. He was cute.” Carrie remembered the man whose biceps had bulged and whose good looks put most other male models to shame.

“So, what happened to Tucker?” Mrs. Smith asked, as Jack just glowered.

“He was cute and built and smart...but he didn’t have a sense of humor at all. I mean, after I borrowed his little car and put a tiny little ding in the door, through no fault of my own,” Carrie hastened to add in her own defense. “Well, he just wouldn’t listen to reason. Jack always has. Listened to reason that is. Well, until now anyway.”

Jack would have understood that it wasn’t her fault that the tree’s branch had whacked the door when she opened it.

Who planted a tree that close to a driveway, anyway?

“And there were others. Some were very nice men, but none of them were Jack. Why Ted, the latest guy I was dating, was wonderful.” Nauseatingly perfect.

“But?” Mrs. Smith asked.

“But he ordered fettuccine and didn’t kiss as good as Jack. At least that’s what I thought, but Jack convinced me he’d never kissed me. What I thought was a kiss was mouth-to-mouth, which when you think about it means all those guys I dated were really bad kissers because none of them kissed as good as Jack gave mouth-to-mouth.” Carrie sighed.

“And what does this all have to do with Sandy and with my jersey?” Jack asked.

Carrie looked up startled. She’d almost forgotten he was modeling Jaycee Smith’s dress.

“Jack.” It was time to confess her sins and be done with it “I’ve kept that jersey all these years, slept in it almost every night, because...”

“Because?” Jack prompted.

“Because I’ve lo...it doesn’t matter. I saw you and Sandy, and I know how miserable you’ve been without her. You felt guilty about me, but you don’t have to. Take her back. I’m sure that’s what she wanted. It’s just best if you and I, if we, well, if we didn’t see each other for a while. You’re mad because she walked out on you, and you feel obligated to keep seeing me because we, well, you know.”

Love.

Jack was almost sure that’s what Carrie was going to say.

She loved him and had loved him for years. She loved him. She’d always loved him. He was almost giddy with relief. “Carrie, Sandy and I, we—”

“Please, Jack. Just go” was Carrie’s only reply, made as she bolted from the room.

“Better go after her, boy. She has no idea how much you love her. She thinks you love this Sandy.”

“She’s confused. But she won’t be for long,” he promised, jumping from the stool and running through the door after Carrie. His steps were shorter than they normally would be, held in check by tight fabric.

Carrie was in her office, staring out the window at the parking lot.

“You’ve got to go,” she said softly, without turning around to face him.

“I have to talk to you first,” Jack said softly in return.

“Jack, there’s nothing to talk about. You’ve got Sandy. Our friendship will be in the way. I should never have let things go so far. After we...”

“After we made love?” Jack helped. He was standing behind her and longed to pull her into his arms, but he held himself back, sensing she needed to finish.

“After we had sex, I decided I must have brought you there when I knew you were overworked and vulnerable, for that reason. When Sandy left, I was sorry for you, but there was this little spark of hope for us and I used your vulnerability. I seduced you.” Her shoulders slumped dejectedly.

“Carrie, you didn’t manipulate me into your bed.”

Her silence told him she didn’t believe a word of it. “Would you believe that these past few weeks, ever since that day I waxed your legs, have opened my eyes to a few things?”

A sniff was her only response. Jack reached for his handkerchief, but realized that he was still wearing turquoise silk. That he was going to confess his love for Carrington Rose Delany wearing a dress, a half-hemmed dress that seemed strangely appropriate.

“Carrie, I’ve always thought I was smart but it took me all these years to realize...” He hesitated.

The words were so big, so new that he savored them on the end of his tongue for a moment. “It took me all these years to realize what I had sitting right under my nose.”

“A huge pain in the butt?” Carrie asked, still sniffing. “The hemorrhoid on the backside of your life? The barnacle on the hull of your existence?”

His arms finally crept around her, pulling her back against his chest. Holding her felt so natural. This was where she belonged. Carrie had known it all along, but it had taken him years to figure it out

She might think he was the smart one, but he knew the truth—Carrie was one of the bravest, smartest, most loving people he’d ever known. “Not a pain in the butt. The love of my life. When I think of all the years, all the time we wasted.”

She shook her head. Her hair tickled his nose. “No, you don’t. You just feel sorry for me. You love Sandy.”

“Sandy was on the island, you’re right about that. You were sleeping and she called the room. You see, she wanted me to know she was engaged.”

“Engaged?”

“To someone else,” he carefully clarified. “Carrie, when she had her injury, we were forced to spend time together. Really spend time. And we both realized that whatever we once felt was gone. We were friends, but we weren’t in love and hadn’t been in years. We were used to the idea of loving each other.”

“You don’t love Sandy?”

“No. I should have talked to you about it. If I had we wouldn’t have gone through this mess. But how do you admit—even to your best friend—that you’ve wasted years of your life? I wasn’t working so hard because I missed Sandy. These past few months I’ve been looking at my life, trying to figure out what was missing. I didn’t realize what was missing because I had you in my life, I just didn’t know I needed something more from you.”

“Jack, I don’t want you to say this because you feel sorry for me.”

“And you. You’ve made this whole thing harder than it needed to be. If you’d asked me for a kiss back in high school instead of kissing half the male population, I might have figured things out back then.”

“You’re going to blame me? You went away to college. There were always women in your life.”

“You were still the girl next door. We were friends.”

She didn’t say anything.

He continued softly, “Now, don’t get me wrong, Carrie. Your friendship is amazing and it’s a treasure I value, but I want you to honestly tell me that this feels like a friend feeling sorry for you.”

He pulled her into his silk-covered arms and kissed her with a week’s worth of frustrated love. More than that, a lifetime’s worth of frustration that he’d only just recognized.

She felt so right in his arms. And he knew that if he’d kissed her, really kissed her, years ago they might not have wasted all those years.

“Wow,” Carrie said.

Articulating anything more wasn’t within her capabilities at the moment. She’d missed the feeling of being held by Jack. She missed their easy banter. She’d just missed him.

“I want you, Carrie. It has nothing to do with sympathy. It has everything to do with the way you make me feel.”

There was a discreet knock at the door.

“Mrs. Smith,” they both said at the same time.

“I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” she called to them.

Carrie and Jack just looked at each other and started laughing. “I think everything is finally fine, Mrs. Smith,” Carrie called.

“We’ll be out in just a minute,” Jack added.

“Jack, we should go now. As soon as Mrs. Smith leaves, we’ll continue this.”

“I just want to make sure you know what you’ll be finishing,” he said, pulling her back into his arms, but she pushed away.

“I didn’t get any tears, or makeup, or anything on the dress, did I?” she asked, checking for potential damage.

“I don’t think so, but it wouldn’t have mattered if you had.” Jack smiled indulgently as she examined the dress.

“Maybe not to you, but I bet it would have mattered to Mrs. Smith and to Jaycee.” She got back down on her knees. “Now, stand still a minute and let me get this hem in for poor Mrs. Smith.”

“Just hurry up. I think you’re taking the rest of the day off.”