I Waxed My Legs for This? (4 page)

She’d won round one.

Carrie burst through Encore’s door, dying to tell someone what she’d done.

For once she was thankful the shop was devoid of customers, as she ran to the back office and found her boss, Eloise Summit, hard at work.

“Eloise, I did it.” Carrie flopped into the chair opposite Eloise’s and grinned. “Oh, I so did it this time.”

The tiny brunette looked up from the papers on her desk. “He fell for it?”

“Of course he fell for it. We’re leaving tomorrow for a week, and Jack still doesn’t have a clue how it happened.”

“Carrie, someday he’s going to figure out how blatantly you manipulate him.”

“Never. I’ve been at it since we were kids. He’s never known what hit him.”

She tipped a little farther back in her chair.

She felt good. More than that, she felt great.

She’d convinced Jack to take a break—a break he desperately needed. The tiny little lie she’d told was worth it.

“Someday you might push him too far,” Eloise said.

Carrie chuckled at the idea. “Never. Jack’s so busy rescuing me from myself that he never figures out how tricky I am. And he never will unless you or I tell him. And of course, we’re not going to tell him, right?”

Eloise sighed and pushed the pile of papers she’d been working on back. “Right.”

“Geesh. I get one of you to take a break and the other one starts to break down. So, what’s got you so stressed?”

“I hate paperwork.” Eloise took the pen that was tucked behind her ear and tossed it on top of the pile of paper.

“Leave it then. I’ll take care of it when I come back.”

Carrie didn’t exactly love paperwork, but it didn’t bother her nearly as much as it bothered Eloise, so she took care of most of the small shop’s bookwork.

“Actually it’s done.” Eloise picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to Carrie. “You better enjoy this vacation because your workload just picked up.”

Carrie’s hands trembled as she stared at the paper. “Do you mean it?”

A small rose stood delicately next to her name. Carrington Rose.

A Carrington Rose Original
.

Her own line of dresses.

It was a dream come true.

She hadn’t lied when she told Jack that she loved what she did and looked forward to going to work. She liked people, enjoyed working with them one-on-one at Encore, making them happy, dressing them beautifully.

But she had bigger dreams.

Her own designs.

Creating her own line of dresses was a dream that fit neatly into the life she’d carved for herself here at Encore, working for Eloise.

Encore was a rather eclectic store, with a loyal, ever-growing, circle of clients.

Not only did they sell vintage dresses and gowns, but they sold reproductions and up until now they’d occasionally carried one of Carrie’s originals. But now her
occasional
creations would be her own line of clothing with her own label.

She’d tried college, tried about a dozen jobs and then stumbled on an ad Eloise had run. Someone who could sew and sell.

Well, she’d learned to do both and under Eloise’s tutelage, she’d learned to do both well.

She stared at the label logo. This was the culmination of all that work and a lot of dreaming.

“You’re sure it won’t flop?” Carrie asked.

The idea of failure was a scary part of realizing a dream.

“Carrie, you know how people rave about your work. Look at the trouble Jaycee Smith has gone to just so she can wear one of your designs to the award banquet in her honor at Tennessee State. She’s in the WNBA and could have picked any number of designers. But she chose you.”

“My own label,” she whispered. Then louder, as the news really sunk in she sprang from the chair. “My own label.”

“Your labels will be waiting for you when you get home in a week. And it might be tough, but forget your own label.” Eloise stood. “Right now, we have to do some shopping.”

“For what?” Carrie asked as Eloise herded her out of the office.

“You’re going to a romantic island with a man, and you have to ask? You need new clothes.”

“Its just Jack.”

Eloise shot Carrie a strange look she couldn’t quite define.

“Yes. It’s just Jack and you alone for a week.”

“But—”

“Consider this a chance to advertise Encore. Because this is a special vacation package, there will be a lot of Erie-ites on that beach.”

Before Carrie knew what had happened, Eloise was thrusting clothes at her in a dressing room and she was trying them on.

“You’re going to be flying high,” Eloise promised.

Carrie might be flying high, but she wanted nothing more than to set her feet back on solid ground again.

“Oh, Jack, I forgot how much I hate flying.”

“Care, you’ve never flown before.”

“And I never want to again.” She clutched the armrests of her seat. She was sure her knuckles were almost as white as her face must be.

She’d won.

She’d left Jack no time to back out of the trip, and here they were, on a plane, flying to their doom.

At the moment she didn’t feel like much of a winner.

“Really, Care, it’s just some turbulence,” he said the soul of reasonableness.

“I don’t believe you and I don’t believe Captain Dave, either,” she said. “We’ve probably lost an engine or a wing or something else that’s equally important when flying in a plane.”

“It’s just turbulence,” Jack said again.

“Yeah, you and Captain Dave keep saying that. And what kind of name is
Captain Dave
?”

“I’m sure he’s competent or they wouldn’t have him flying the plane.” Jack rubbed her shoulders.

Carrie was too worried to enjoy his touch. “Competent shmompetent. The man is flying us to our doom.”

“Lighten up, Carrie. This was your idea,” Jack said in his normal, confident way.

Carrie hated that confident, self-assured part of him at this moment.

“Sure, remind me that I’ve driven you to your death. Yeah, that’s going to make me feel better.”

Jack was such a man, no compassion hidden beneath that hard exterior.

He’d never realize the effort she’d made to get him to relax before he worked himself into an ulcer or worse.

He’d never know how much she ached every time she saw that look in his eyes—the look that said he was thinking about Sandy.

He’d never know because she’d never tell him.

And, she’d never tell him because they were obviously flying to their doom—she wouldn’t have time.

He raised his dark brows in what might have been his attempt at sympathy and patted her shoulders again. “We’re going to be just fine.”

“Uh-huh,” she managed to say.

Jack sighed. When Carrie got like this there was no reasoning with her. She once refused to leave the house on a Friday the thirteenth because a black cat had crossed her path the day before. She was convinced it was an omen and had tried to talk Jack into staying home for the day, too.

He wouldn’t, and laughed at her for being so superstitious.

She ended up having the last laugh because Jack had wrecked his Ferrari, totaling it.

Only Carrie didn’t laugh. She said she was relieved that just the car was wrecked and not him.

Jack reached over and pried one of her hands off the armrest and held her trembling hand in his own. “It will be just fine.”

Carrie nodded her head stiffly and Jack watched for the flight attendant. “Could we have a drink when you have a moment?”

“Sure. What would you like?” the flight attendant asked with a smile.

“Fruit juice,” Carrie said.

“With a bunch of vodka,” Jack added.

“I don’t drink,” Carrie told him.

“Today you do. Remember you thought piña coladas were perfect for the beach? Well, vodka is the perfect drink for a turbulent plane.”

When the drinks came, Jack handed Carrie hers and said, “Drink it.”

“I don’t want—”

“You’ll never even taste the vodka and it will relax you. Drink it.”

With a slight grimace, Carrie took the drink and took a sip. “It’s not bad.”

“Finish it off.”

Ten minutes later they had a second round.

After that, a third.

Within half an hour Carrie was no longer white-knuckling her seat. Instead she was giggling.

“What’s so funny?” Jack asked. He was used to seeing Carrie in the middle of mishaps, and she was always sunny, but he’d never seen her silly.

He grinned as she giggled again.

He kind of liked it.

“Come on, what’s so funny?” he asked again.

“You,” she said.

“Me?”

“You.” She laughed as if it was the best joke she’d ever heard.

“Why am I so funny?” He smiled indulgently. A tipsy Carrie was preferable to a nervous, airsick one.

“Oh, you’re a man and that makes you funny. You didn’t even realize you’d been tricked into coming on this trip with me.”

“I realized it.” He’d realized she didn’t want someone else on this trip, that she’d wanted him on this vacation right from the start

Carrie enjoyed thinking she was manipulating him, and he was just friend enough to allow her to believe it. Most of the time he just put up resistance for the show.

This time...well, a vacation wasn’t what he’d had in mind, but he’d decided that maybe Carrie was right. Maybe he needed to get away from Erie, and his memories.

Sandy was gone. It was time he rebuilt his life. In fact it was well past time.

“No, you didn’t I fooled you.” She let out a delicate little hiccup and continued. “You know Ted didn’t buy those tickets, don’t you.”

“He didn’t?” While he might have known she’d manipulated him, he didn’t know she’d out-and-out lied.

She grinned a Cheshire-catlike grin and nodded. “I did. Eloise gave me a bonus. I’ve been bringing in a lot of special orders. This WNBA dress is the biggest, most vis...visible one. She’s making Carrington Rose Originals a sig...a sig...a signature of the store.”

“Why did you lie?” he asked.

“Because you would never have let me spend that kind of money on you, even though it was a special, because you’re too old...old...old-fashioned. But I knew you needed to get away. So when Eloise gave me the money and you finished your case, I knew it was a sign.”

She giggled again and waggled her finger in his face. “I know you don’t believe in signs, but you should. Remember, there was a time you didn’t believe in Friday the thirteenth, either. But you’ll never figure it out you’ve been tricked because you’re a man and I’m a woman, that means I’m tricky.”

Jack watched her giggling, she was so pleased with her trickiness, and something tightened in his chest.

She’d done this for him?

He thought back and couldn’t remember anyone ever doing something so generous for him. Certainly not Sandy.

Carrie gave a little sigh and leaned her tipsy head against his shoulder. “You’re going to have a good time, you know that?”

“Sure, Carrie,” he crooned, ready to agree with anything she said.

She’d done this for him.

He let the thought sink in.

“I’m going to remind you how to play. You’ve forgotten how. That nasty Sandy took that from you.”

“Whatever you say.”

Jack knew as sure as he was winging along the ocean coast that he’d do whatever she wanted. She’d had him wrapped around her little finger since they were kids and this newest revelation only tightened her hold.

He was going to have fun this week...even if it killed him.

CARRIE WOKE UP with a groan.

Someone was killing a cat somewhere, she thought in a vague, sleepy way.

Why would someone want to murder a cat and why would they do it so noisily?

She pried open one eye, a difficult feat because the top lid appeared to be shellacked to the bottom one.

Light blinded her, but the noise drove her to ignore it. She pried open the other eye.

Where was she?

That was the first thing she needed to discover. And the second was who was making that horrible noise?

She looked around the garish room and remembered She was on vacation on Amore Island...

Which meant that the horrible noise could only be one thing. Actually one person—Jack.

If she had to make an educated guess she’d have to guess he was singing...well, sort of.

She listened and started to make out some of the words. “Rhinestone Cowboy.” That was what he was attempting to sing. Unfortunately his attempt was…well, it was pitiful.

Then she smiled.

Jack singing, or at least doing his imitation of singing, could only mean one thing—he was relaxed. That’s why she’d gone through her elaborate scheme, to get him away from work and help him remember how to let loose.

It seemed that her plan was working.

She owed Ted, her nonfettuccine eating, bad-kissing ex-boyfriend, a debt of gratitude. He’d provided her with the excuse she needed.

She sat up and quickly sank back down.

What had Jack done to her?

She vaguely recalled the plane about to crash and Jack offering her a drink and.... Things got fuzzy after that.

Hazy pictures floated through her memory. The nice flight attendant, Jack...and Sandy? No, she must have been hallucinating that part.

She’d brought Jack to the island to forget Sandy.

Maybe the plane had really crashed and she was injured—that would explain the pounding in her head.

A concussion.

No. The pounding in her head had to be from the drinks Jack had plied her with. That would explain why her memories of their arrival at the resort were so fuzzy.

She thought she remembered a lobby with a waterfall.

Did they put waterfalls in lobbies or was that part of her alcoholic haze, too?

Carrie searched her memory. There was a blurry image of her being carried by Jack. His hands on her. Unbuttoning her blouse and....

Suddenly her headache increased ten thousand fold.

What had she done?

Better yet, what had Jack, the man she’d tried to save from himself, done to her while she was drunk?

She peeked under the covers and felt sick to her stomach.

She sank back and buried her head in the pillow with a groan. She’d let her best friend...well, not let. And certainly not her best friend anymore if he’d—she peeked under the covers again—if he was responsible for her current lack of clothing.

The quasi-singing stopped and the object of her ire emerged from behind a door.

“You’re awake,” he said with a disarming grin.

“What did you do?” Carrie demanded.

Jack frowned. “What do you mean, what did I do?”

She peeked under the covers a third time just to make sure she was right.

“We agreed that we’d share the room, but not that we’d share the bed. Where are my clothes and what were you thinking when you...” She let the sentence trail off.

The idea of what they had done and the implication to their friendship…it was too horrible to voice.

“When I what, Carrie?” Jack asked.

She could feel herself blushing and couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Her embarrassment fueled her anger. “When you had your way with me.”

“I did no such thing,” Jack protested.

“You did, too. I remember you carrying me into the room and unbuttoning my blouse...” She stopped there because things sort of faded after that

“But you don’t remember screaming,
I can undress myself
as you proceeded to do just that?”

Glaring at him, she slowly shook her head.

“Or, me leaving the room while you did?”

Again she shook.

“Or my coming back a half hour later and taking the quilt onto the floor?”

Relief flooded through Carrie’s body. He hadn’t—they hadn’t.

She sank back into the pillows and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I woke up feeling like that darn airplane had landed on my head and everything was funny. Not ha-ha funny, but surreal funny. Then I peeked under the covers and saw that there was nothing under there but me and I...” She shrugged lamely.

“You’re forgiven,” Jack said easily, much too easily. “Now, why don’t you go take a shower and have the three aspirin I left on the counter for you. By the time you’re done, breakfast should be here.”

The thought of food made Carrie’s stomach experience turbulence worse than anything she’d felt yesterday in the plane. “I don’t think I can eat”

“Actually you’ll feel better after you have. You’ll just have to trust me on this one.”

Carrie doubted she would ever feel better again, but she didn’t argue with Jack. “You’ll have to turn your back while I run into the bathroom.”

“Okay,” he said, obliging her by staring at the ocean beyond the sliding glass doors.

“No peeking,” she warned, wrapping the sheet around her naked body and dragging it with her.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Jack said.

She hustled as quickly as her aching head would allow, unaware that he watched her reflection in the glass.