S
he liked it. A lot.
Carrie grinned as she stretched in bed. She liked it so much she would have liked to do it again. But she had to get to work, so it was just as well that Max left to shower in his room.
She needed to get up and shower, too, but she wanted to revel in the memory of the past twelve hours. And—truthfully—she wasn’t ready to wash off the scent and feel of him. She didn’t know if she’d ever experience it again.
“No being sad,” she ordered herself. Mom always said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Carrie had always scoffed at that, but now she got it. Because if last night was all she’d ever get from Max—well, she’d cherish it forever.
She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her recent calls until she found Gabe’s number. Glancing at the bedside clock, she groaned as she saw the time—Gabe would
not
be happy at being awakened so early. She almost disconnected, but the line picked up.
Some rustling and then a disgusted huff. “You realize what time it is?” Gabe said in a sleep-hoarse voice.
She meant to apologize, so she was surprised when she said, “I’m in love” instead.
There was silence and then more rustling. “Okay, I’m up. What did you just say? I swore I heard you say you were in love.”
“I am.” She curled into the pillow Max used and inhaled his scent. “Max spent the night with me last night.”
“And this morning you’re in love?” Disbelief colored her every word.
“I know! It’s crazy. Who falls in love after one night of incredible, mind-blowing sex?”
“Apparently, you do,” Gabe deadpanned.
“And next you’re going to ask me if I’m confusing sex and love, and if I’m just blinded by his incredible physique and hot birthmark—”
“Birthmark?”
“—and maybe this is the afterglow of being thoroughly pleasured in more ways than I knew were possible.”
“Is it?”
“No.” Shaking her head, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “I already asked myself that this morning, because who falls in love overnight? Only I don’t think it was overnight. I think it accumulated.”
“What? Over the week you’ve known him?”
“Two and a half weeks. God, you’re a sarcastic wench in the mornings,” Carrie said with a grin. “I bet Rhys loves waking up to that.”
“Rhys is long gone before I get out of bed. And we’re not talking about me here. We’re talking about you.” She paused. “Are you sure it’s love?”
“Absolutely. Down to the tingles in my fingers and toes.”
Gabe sighed. “Okay. I’m happy for you.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
“You can’t blame me for being worried. I encouraged you to get freaky with the guy—I didn’t mean for you to give him your heart. I feel responsible.” She gasped. “Wait a second. Does this mean you’re not coming back to me?”
“Of course I’m coming back. My position ends in a little over a week. And I have my career at Cal. I can’t just abandon that.” She frowned.
“You don’t sound sure about that.”
“I am.” She tried to add extra emphasis, but based on the silence on the other end she didn’t succeed. “I can’t give up what I’ve worked so hard for, just for a guy.”
“Why do you have to give up anything?”
“He lives in Santa Monica and China.”
“If he loves you, maybe he’ll move to San Francisco with you.”
“I love
him,
” Carrie corrected. “He hasn’t said anything about love.”
Another moment of silence. “I’ll kill him.”
Carrie laughed. “I love you, you know that, right?”
“Don’t think you can distract me, Carrie. I’m serious. If this bastard hurts you, I swear I’ll make him regret the day his nuts dropped.”
“Duly noted.”
“Let me know when I get to break legs,” Gabe said through a yawn. “But try not to wake me up next time.”
Feeling lighter for chatting, Carrie disconnected and hopped out of bed to the shower. Fifteen minutes later she was clean and dressed and heading down to the library.
There was a distinct frostiness when she walked in—more so than usual. Like every morning, Francesca sat at her usual place. This morning, however, instead of poring over spreadsheets or whatever she usually did, she stared off into space, transferring her chilly gaze to Carrie when she walked in.
Oh, boy.
Carrie sighed mentally and pasted a bright smile on her face. “Good morning.”
Francesca looked like she wanted to ask what was so good about it, but she just nodded. Briefly. Really it was a jerk of her head more than a nod.
She knew Carrie had slept with Max. Carrie was pretty sure she could bank on that. Francesca ran the household, and someone had to have noticed Max didn’t sleep in his room last night and told her. Or maybe someone saw him leave her room, naked, with the only nod to modesty being the clothes he casually carried in front of him.
And given that Francesca had a huge thing for him… Well, the woman had to be hating her now.
Super.
Better to meet this head-on rather than tiptoe around it. Carrie took a deep breath. “I know you’re—”
“Don’t you think you should get to work?” Francesca arched an eyebrow. “Considering how late you are?”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about—”
“I don’t believe there’s anything to say.”
“Yes, there is.” She sat down on the loveseat across from her. “I know—”
Francesca visibly bristled, her already ramrod-straight spine becoming even stiffer. “You don’t know anything. You think you’re so secure in your new
position
”—she spat it like it was a four-letter word—“but he’ll get what he wants from you and then you’ll be gone.”
“I know.”
That stalled her. “What?”
Carrie shrugged. “It doesn’t take a genius to know that. I wasn’t entirely clueless going into this. But this isn’t about me.”
“It’s not?” Francesca asked carefully, suspicion drawing her fine features together.
“Of course not.” She leaned forward, willing the other woman to really hear her. “You’re beautiful, smart, and have a lot to offer. You have to stop pining away for him and do something that’ll make you happy. You’ve got to let him go.”
If she thought Francesca was rigid before, it was nothing compared to how she held herself now. “Are you through?” she asked very precisely.
Carrie slumped in the chair. “I guess I am.”
She sat there for several more moments, wondering what her mom would do. Maybe she’d call her later. Maybe she’d talk to Max about his assistant and make him see how cruel he was, fostering her infatuation for him.
On that depressing thought, she got up and went to her corner. Her mind wasn’t in her work this morning, though. It wasn’t even on her thesis.
One guess what she was thinking about.
Fortunately, Don walked in with the breakfast tray. Francesca acknowledged him with a cool nod before returning to her manic typing. So Carrie made up for her coldness with a bright smile. “Thank you.”
Don bowed, a smile lighting his gaze. Then he gestured to the tray. “The master left a note for you.”
“Oh.” She picked it up and stared at the thick white paper. She waited until he left before she unfolded it. In crisp black letters, it read:
Eat the apple pastry—you can afford it.
Max. She grinned, remembering their workout last night. Picking up the pastry, she took a big bite, closing her eyes and sighing in pleasure.
Indulging helped get her on track with her work. She busted out her laptop and the text before reaching for her dictionary.
Not on the desk. She frowned and looked around for it before she remembered she’d taken it up to her room.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, getting up.
Francesca looked like she was going to protest, but then a peculiar light dawned in her eyes and she just nodded.
Strange. Carrie shrugged it off and ran up the stairs to her room, throwing the door open. She started when she saw a dark figure by her bed.
The mugger.
She reached to throw something at him from the dresser when she saw it was Max.
“Oh, God. You scared me.” Putting a hand on her chest, she smiled in relief and closed the door.
He looked delicious in loose cotton pants and a baggy button-down shirt. The open collar revealed his tan skin. His hair was still damp from his shower, and she had the urge to bury her nose in his neck to inhale his fresh scent.
She walked toward him. “What are you doing up here? Hoping for a little midday affection?”
As soon as she said it, she realized he couldn’t have known she was coming up. Then she noticed the covers on the bed were flipped up and her suitcase peeked from under the mattress.
The bottom fell out of her stomach as the light went on in her head. “You
are
the one who’s been going through my things.”
He paused and then nodded.
“The monastery. You remember.” She glanced at the luggage. “You know.”
He didn’t say a word. It didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t deny anything, either.
All the puzzle pieces fell into place as she stared at his cold face. The job offer, the friendship, the sex—she didn’t have to ask to know that it’d all been calculated. She rubbed the spot over her chest where it felt like her heart was shattering into a million pieces.
It took her several tries before she could say, “You knew I had them?”
“Yes.”
“Were you the one who made the calls?”
“What calls?” he asked, eyes hardening.
He didn’t know about them. She nodded. That was something at least. “Did you set up the pier? The mugging?”
“Mugging?” His gaze shot to her forehead, and he stepped toward her. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been mugged?”
“What difference would it have made? You were only after one thing. You wouldn’t care.”
“I would. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Too late.” Trying to control the rage that surged in her like a vicious whirlpool, she pushed him aside, kneeled on the floor, and yanked the zipper open to her bag.
A cool wave flowed over her when she saw the Book of Water, but the excitement she’d felt before was gone. She’d wanted the thesis so badly, it never occurred to her that she could want anything else like that—least of all a man.
She gathered the scrolls in her arms and tossed them at him. “Take them.”
They bounced off his body and hit the floor. He stared at them for a moment before he looked back at her. There was something in his eyes—
No. She wasn’t going to be conned into believing him again. Being gullible once was a learning experience. Twice was just plain stupid. She turned her head away, pulling out the journal and shoving it at him so he had to accept it. “You have everything now. Get out.”
“Carrie, give me a chance to explain.”
She raised her hand. “Let’s not do this. I don’t need it spelled out for me, and I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable if we don’t do this. I’ll pack my bags and get out of here as soon as possible.”
He frowned. “Where are you going?”
Clenching her hands, she willed herself to stay calm. Really, she wanted to hit him until he hurt as much as her heart did. “What does it matter? You have what you want, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
Still he didn’t move.
She snapped. Running forward, she scooped up the scrolls and shoved them into his arms. “Go already! What are you waiting for? Another round in bed? Because I’d sooner cut my heart out and pass it over.”
He stared, like he was seeing her for the first time.
She lowered her voice, trying to get a grip. “You know, I was going to return them. I never meant to take them in the first place, it just kind of happened. But I would have handed them over to you if you’d just asked.”
Max’s brow furrowed. He looked down at the scrolls and then back at her. Something clicked in his head—she could tell by the way his expression cleared.
But she didn’t want to know what it was or why. Ordering herself not to cry, she yanked open the dresser drawers and grabbed bundles of clothes to dump into the suitcase. He stayed out of her way, but she could feel his eyes on her the whole time.
Whatever. He could stay and watch. She threw her jeans in, punching them to make them fit. As long as he didn’t say anything, because she didn’t think she could stand to hear the truth out loud. It was bad enough knowing he’d used her the whole time—that he’d probably planned her seduction from the start—and she fell into it like an eager teenager.
She looked around. Her underwear was left. She scooped it all into her arms, shoved it in the suitcase, and zipped it up. She had soap and a toothbrush in the bathroom, but she couldn’t stand being there a second longer. She could just buy new stuff at Walgreen’s. It seemed a small enough price to pay, comparatively.