The Fairest of Them All (13 page)

He reached for her, but she slid out of reach. “You don’t have a car, and I don’t want you leaving all upset.”

“I don’t have much choice about leaving upset, Russ, but I’m not leaving with you.” She started walking toward the door without a backward glance.

Russ stared after her and threw some bills on the table. In a few quick strides, he caught up with her, stepped around her, and opened the door. She paused, but walked through.

“Carly, we can’t just leave it like this. There’s too much unfinished business. Let me take you home.” Carly absently nodded at an acquaintance and kept moving. “As far as I’m concerned, our business is very finished.”

Russ’s heart sank. He’d had no idea she’d get so upset. “Do you mean that?” He clamped a hand over her shoulder and turned her around. He stared into eyes that chilled him with their disappointment. “You really don’t want me anymore?”

“It seems like what I want hasn’t mattered all that much.” Her body was tense as a bow, but her eyes looked moist.

Russ tenderly touched her cheek. “It matters to me,” he assured her. “What do you want, Carly?”

“I want to go home,” she whispered.

Russ wanted to take her anywhere except her apartment. Because once there, she’d say good night and she’d have the whole night to let her anger and hurt build. He’d be back at square one, if he was lucky. He wanted to take her to his house and work everything out. But that unsteady whisper felled him sure as a well-placed ax fells an oak. With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, he ushered her to his car.

Carly stripped off her clothes, pulled on a nightshirt, and crawled onto her bed, holding the pillow in her arms. The white-hot anger was still inside, heating her, making her acutely aware and acutely awake. She wouldn’t sleep tonight, she knew.

Naive little girls shouldn't play with fire
. Russ Bradford was fire and she felt charred. She pressed her lips together and looked down at her pink sheets. Holding on to her anger, she realized she had no one to blame but herself. Hurt surfaced in spurts, and she wanted to avoid it. If she stayed angry, she wouldn’t have to face the sharp, stunning pain. Her face was tight with the effort to hold back tears.

In spite of the fact that Russ couldn’t be trusted with a woman’s heart, she’d trusted him. Because of their long friendship she’d thought they shared a mutual respect.

Carly scowled. For all his teasing and flirting, some stupid secret part of her had begun to believe him. With stinging accuracy, she recalled his practical marriage plans. He’d mentioned nothing of love or need.

Tears began to blur her vision. She wiped her cheeks with her hands. He’d tricked her into an affair, then he’d listed his emotionless reasons for wanting to many her the same way he’d list the reasons why one catfish grain was better than another.

Carly threw the pillow across the room. She wouldn't give her heart to a man she couldn’t reach. She’d done it for years with her father. How many limes had she tried to win her father’s approval and been rewarded with an absent pat on the head? She stared at the ceiling and remembered the pictures she’d drawn for him in elementary school, the good grades. When that hadn’t worked, she’d turned into a tomboy so she could work by his side. But her father hadn’t allowed it, saying he had sons for that. How many times had she cried herself to sleep?

Intellectually, Carly knew her father had been caught in his own pain from the loss of her mother. She knew that in his way, he’d done his best. He’d found a new wife willing to care for eight children. Unfortunately that new wife had resented the fact that Carly bore a startling resemblance to her mother. Eunice couldn’t be faulted for stepping in as caretaker, but Carly was sure Eunice had wanted more from her father too. Perhaps in another situation, that could have drawn Eunice and Carly together. In this case, it drove them apart. Whatever her reasons, Eunice had always kept Carly at arm’s length. And because of his own silent grief, her father had done the same.

Carly remembered wanting him to cuddle her in his arms. She remembered making a wish on her ninth birthday that her father would say he loved her. She waited year after year. He’d died when she was thirteen and Carly had still been waiting. She’d learned so well the cruel reality that some things were hopeless.

Falling back on the bed, she felt a sob build and grow in her chest until her willfullness could no longer hold it back. Warm salty tears streaked down her cheeks. Turning on her side, she wept again until she fell asleep.

The next morning was worse. Her face was a mess of tight, splotchy skin. She had a crick in her neck, and her head felt as though Custer’s Last Stand was being fought inside it. Her eyes were a festive red, white, and purple.

Carly grimaced at her reflection in the mirror and took extra time with makeup. She wore heavier foundation, put drops in her eyes, and took two aspirin. But aspirin couldn’t do a thing for her heart.

By four o’clock, she was ready for a good stiff drink. Carly stared at the phone in her office.

Sara stood in the doorway, eyeing Carly with a worried expression on her face. “Russ called again. He said if you didn’t take his next call he’d come see you personally.”

Carly sighed. “Okay, put him through next time.”

Sara walked in and sat in the chair across from Carly. “You never told me what the bank vice president said.”

Carly gave a brittle smile. “He said he was sorry, but with the current condition of the economy they were forced to be conservative with their business loans.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s been that kind of day. I got a cancellation for a banquet too.”

“What about Russ?” Sara asked quietly.

Carly took a deep breath. Her chest felt tight and achy. She shook her head. “That’s not working out.”

“Carly, I know you're my employer, but I think of you as a friend.”

“That’s because you are my friend.”

Sara pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Well, you look miserable. Shouldn’t you talk to him?”

“No,” she said quickly. “He did something that—” She bit her lip. “Well, let’s just say I feel really stupid.”

The phone rang and Carly just looked at it.

“It’s probably Russ,” Sara said.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to take it?”

“Yeah, but I’ll do it.” She braced herself, then picked up the receiver. “Matilda’s Dream.”

There was a long pause. “Carly? Is that you?” Russ asked in a rough voice.

She looked at Sara and nodded. Sara slipped from the room. “Yes, it’s me.”

“You haven’t taken my calls,” he said.

“I’ve been busy.” She twisted the cord. “It’s been a rough day.”

Russ gave an audible sigh. “No kidding. I haven’t been able to do anything right today. We need to talk.”

Carly vigorously shook her head, forgetting to speak.

“Carly, we need to talk.”

She heard the need in his voice. God, was she fooling herself again? “Not now,” she said over the lump in her throat. Her voice fell to a whisper. “I can’t talk to you now.”

“But when?” he asked, frustration edging in.

“I don’t know. I just can’t talk to you now.” She had to get off the phone before she broke down. She was appalled at the way her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve gotta go. Bye, Russ.” She hung up the phone to the sound of him calling her name.

Sara immediately stepped through the door again with a box of tissues. “I thought you might need these.”

Carly took one and dabbed her eyes. Then she blew her nose. “This is ridiculous. I’ve got to stop.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I wish I had an on-off switch in my brain. I’d turn it off.” Carly moaned and pounded the desk with her fist. “If I were Jarod or Daniel, I’d probably head over to that wild saloon in Chilham, flirt a little, drink a lot, and have Garth drive me home.”

“Is that one of those strip joints?”

“Nah. It’s just a big, honky tonk bar.”

Sara tilted her head thoughtfully. “Is it a safe place?”

Carly shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Then I think we should go.”

Carly did a double take. “You’re kidding.”

Sara squared her shoulders with what Carly thought looked like defiance. “I’m not. You need to let off a little steam tonight. This sounds like just the place to do it.”

Carly tried to imagine serious Sara in such a setting and couldn’t help but smile. “My brothers would kill me. I remember once back in college when they threatened to lock me up for a week if they ever saw me there.”

“They can’t lock you up now.”

That gave Carly pause. She’d been forced to accept her brothers' rules for so long that she complied without thinking. She’d been saying she wanted her independence. Maybe it was time to put her money where her mouth was. “You’re on. Let’s go change clothes. Can you pick me up in an hour?”

Sara and Carly stood at the same time. A slow smile grew on both their faces. “We’re probably going to hate this,” Carly pointed out.

Sara nodded. “Yes, but we can think of it as an educational experience.”

Two hours later, Carly’s head was numb from the pounding music of the live band. “It’s so loud, I can’t think,” she yelled at Sara.

Sara smiled. “That’s the idea.”

A man came to stand in front of her and grinned. He pushed back his cowboy hat. “You need to dance,” he said in a deep drawl.

Carly was about to decline as she had several other times, when Sara stunned her by speaking up. “She does. She just needs a little encouragement.” Carly cut her eyes at Sara. “I—” Before she could finish, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Your feet were growing roots into the floor.” He made a disapproving clicking noise. “It would have been hell for the owners to dig you out by the end of the night.”

A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. His eyes were a friendly blue, and she had to admit his approach was original. “All right. But if you call me a filly, I'll stomp on your feet.”

He laughed good-naturedly and swung her into a fast two-step. Before long, she found herself in another man’s arms, then another, and another. The room became a kaleidoscope of different music and different men. She lost track of how many songs had passed, but one man kept showing up. His name was Jim, and he held her a little too close and he complimented her effusively while he tried to talk her into going back to her apartment.

Carly shook her head. “No. I’m just out for fun tonight. Nothing heavy.”

“I’m out for fun tonight too.”

“Not that kind of fun,” she said firmly, thinking that his eyes were the same caramel color as Russ’s. “You don’t know till you try,” he pointed out. Carly thought of how tied up in knots she’d been over Russ. “I don’t want to try tonight.” She stepped back, putting some space between them. She hoped the song would be over soon. This was getting sticky.

Jim stepped forward, eliminating the space. “There must be something I can do to persuade you.”

Growing increasingly uncomfortable, Carly backed away and looked around the smoke-laden room. “I really don’t—” She broke off when she spied two familiar figures in the back of the room.

She stiffened and felt her stomach fall to her feet. The instinct of twenty-three years slammed into her. Daniel and Russ stood at the door, their gazes planted on her and her dance partner. Daniel was scowling. Russ looked ready for blood.

She turned back to Jim, wincing at his seductive expression. She shook her head, “Jim, I really—”

Jim’s middle name must have been persistence. At that moment, he dipped his head and planted a firm kiss on her mouth.

Carly forcefully pushed him back. “You’re going to regret that.”

Jim just smiled. “I couldn’t regret it.”

“You will when all your teeth are gone.” Carly took a quick glance over her shoulder. “You see those two guys walking toward us?”

“Yeah.”

“The dark one will probably kill me,” she said, wishing she were anywhere but here. Siberia sounded good.

Jim’s smile wavered. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him.”

Carly shook her head and sighed. “No. The red- haired one will probably kill you.”

Within seconds, Russ and Daniel were bearing down on her. Jim must have possessed strong survival instincts, because he disappeared. Carly fought the urge to run at the same time she looked for the emergency exits. She had about two eye blinks to get her stuff together. Since she didn’t have the emotional stamina for a fight, she opted for a breezy hello and good-bye.

“Fancy meeting you two here,” she said with a painfully bright smile.

Daniel glared. “What are you doing here?”

Russ was busy surveying the crowd for her elusive suitor.

Carly’s throat clenched at the image filling her mind of broken chairs, broken glass, and broken body parts. “I, uh, I’m here with Sara.”

“Sara!” Daniel’s frown darkened.

Carly covertly watched the expression in Russ’s eyes and vowed to leave as soon as possible. His usually warm, caramel eyes were cold as January. She shivered despite the heat in the room. “There’s Sara,” she said, edging away. “She’s waving to me now. Guess it’s time to go. See you guys later.” She turned and walked swiftly toward the table.

Her deep breath of relief was premature. A strong, callused hand enclosed her arm, stopping her midstride. A powerful sense of dread began in her stomach and spread to her toes. Carly didn’t want to look at Russ’s face right now. She felt dangerously close to a mammoth explosion of anger or tears, and Carly knew either would bring regret. “Yes?” she said without turning to face him.

“You’re riding home with me. We’re way overdue for a talk.”

“That sounds like an order. I don’t respond well to orders.”

His staggered sigh ruffled her hair. Even without seeing his face, she could feel the frustration rolling off of him.