The Marriage Mistake

Chapter Four

Carina walked around the tiny loft apartment. Boxes littered the gunmetal carpet and the kitchen barely had enough room to fit a person with generous hips. The canary yellow futon splashed color and mixed with the array of crazed watercolors hung on the wall. Definitely not an artist worthy of a showing, but at least they were cheery and interesting to look at. The large windows opened to view an array of towering trees, as if she lived in a modern tree house from one of those fantasy movies.

It was perfect.

Joy splintered through her. Alexa’s apartment was her first official home that was all her own. Finally, she had the privacy she craved, and an endless array of opportunities stretched ahead of her. She didn’t intend to waste a single moment.

And it started tomorrow night with her first official date.

Footsteps echoed. Michael and Max pushed through the narrow doorway and collapsed on the sagging futon. “That’s the last of it.”

She giggled at the sight of two strapping, masculine men huffing over the long climb. “I thought you guys worked out at the gym every day. Yet here you are exhausted over moving a few boxes.”

They shared a look of incredulity. “Are you kidding me? What did you put in those boxes, anyway? Stones?” her brother asked.

“I need lots of shoes. And my art equipment.”

Max glared. “There must be three hundred stairs, all twisty and narrow. And where the hell is the air-conditioning?”

“Alexa said the unit is ancient. And I told you to hire movers.”

“No need. We wanted to be involved.”

Carina held back a sigh. “Fine. Thank you both, but why don’t you get going? I have to unpack and get settled. Maggie mentioned a benefit dinner tonight.”

Michael groaned and stood up. “You’re right. She’s going to be crazed about what to wear and no matter how many times I tell her she looks great, she says she looks fat.”

Carina laughed. “Just remind her she’s not fat—just carrying two extra bodies in her small belly.”

“I’ll try. Are you going to be okay? Do you need anything?”

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Niente. I’m excited to get settled and have everything I need. I love you, Michael.”

His face gentled and he kissed the top of her head. “I love you too. Max? Coming?”

“In a minute. Go ahead.”

“See you later.”

Her brother left and she shifted her glance to Max.

Oh. My.

His dark hair was adorably mussed and a fine sheen of sweat gleamed on his brow. His worn T-shirt clung damply to a mass of carved muscle from his abs, pecs, biceps, and other yummy places. The ancient jeans hugged his ass and dropped low on his hips in a wicked invitation for a woman to play. He always seemed to loom over her in that delicious dominant way that made her tummy drop, especially since the top of her head only hit his chin. Well versed in ignoring her physical attraction to the man, she focused on her task.

Carina grabbed the first box and ripped it open with the box cutter. “Max, there’s no need to stay. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m thirsty. Want a beer?”

“I don’t have any.”

He grinned and unfurled himself from the couch. When he returned from the kitchen, he held out a frosty Moretti. Strong tanned fingers brushed hers. “Housewarming present.”

“Yum.” She pressed the icy cold bottle to her cheek and rolled it down over her neck. The chill peppered her flesh, and she sighed with pleasure. “Feels so good.”

He made a strangled sound in his throat. She shifted her gaze, and dark blue eyes pinned her with heat. Her breath hitched, but she managed to fight past it and take a step back. Funny, she never saw that look on his face before. Almost like he was . . . hungry.

She drank her beer in a thick, heavy silence. She spoke first and tried to cut through the odd tension. “So, big plans for the weekend?”

“Not really.”

“We have the site walk-through on Monday, right?”

“Yep.”

“What do you think of my new place?”

“Small.”

“Read any good books lately?”

“No. You?”

“Yeah, the Kama Sutra.” That got his attention. He scowled but offered nothing further. “Have you read it?”

“No need.” His husky drawl promised he did fine without the well-known sex manual.

She paused mid-sip. Temper nipped as she realized he still tried to intimidate her with his towering height and primitive, masculine energy. He was a walking, breathing, living Sex God and she was sick to death of being in his shadow. Carina narrowed her eyes, and her voice snapped. “If you have nothing to talk about or offer here, I think you should be on your way. I have a lot of work to do.”

Surprise flitted across his carved features. His lip quirked. “Am I bothering you or something?”

“Yeah. Or something. If all you want to do is look like a poster for Calvin Klein, please go somewhere else. I’m sure your other women will appreciate the view.”

He choked on his beer and stared at her as if she’d turned green. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” She slammed down the bottle on the battered coffee table and began unpacking. His body heat pulsed close behind her, but she ignored him.

“Have you gone nuts? Why is my appearance suddenly so irritating to you? I thought we’d hang out a bit. Order a pizza. No big deal.”

She grit her teeth at his arrogance. “Thank you for the generous offer of your company, Max. But I have a lot to do and I’d like to be alone. We never hung out before unless Michael was around, and I need to get organized.”

“You have the whole weekend.”

“I’m going to the party tomorrow, so I’d like to have most of my stuff done.”

“Ah, yes, the party. With Edward.”

She cut him a warning look. The scene in his office still burned, but she’d be damned if he ever knew. She was done playing games with the man. Time to give him a taste of what she always went through. An inquisition. “I’m looking forward to hanging out more with Laura. I’ll tell Michael I invited her to dinner next week.”

That got his attention. His lithe frame stiffened. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t invite my dates to events without my permission.”

“Why?”

“I like Laura, but I’m in no rush. Meeting family is important.”

She grinned. “Another one bites the dust, huh? Too bad, I thought she had enough to interest you for a while.” He sucked in his breath. She moved on to the next box with a ruthless efficiency and told herself not to engage. Unfortunately, he stepped in front of her and forced her to spar.

“What do you know about the women I date? Just because I move slow and careful does not mean I can’t settle.”

Carina threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, that’s a good one. If I had a dollar for every wrong woman you chose I’d be richer than you. But you didn’t listen to me when we were young, and you’re not now.”

“Name one.”

“Sally Eckerson.”

He frowned. “We dated for three months. A successful relationship.”

“Hmm, interesting. She ended up sleeping with your friend Dale, remember?”

He scrunched up his face, deep in thought. “Oh, yeah. But we had broken it off.”

“No, you broke it off after you found her in bed with your roommate. Then there was the blond model you dated who had an IQ of a whopping one. Maybe two.”

“Jenna? Not true, we had plenty of good conversations.”

She stared him down until he shifted his feet. “Max, you brought her to dinner at Mama’s house. She didn’t know there was a war in Iraq or who the president of the U.S. was.”

“So, she wasn’t a historian. Big deal.”

“She admitted she didn’t read books without pictures.”

“Vogue has articles in it.”

“Yeah, just like you read Playboy for the in-depth stories.”

“That’s unfair. I happen to love women—all women—and give them a chance. Just because I haven’t found The One doesn’t mean I’m not trying.”

Carina shook her head. “I watched them enter and exit the door my whole life. You’re trying with all the wrong women for a reason. You have intimacy issues. Each one is doomed to failure.” Her traitorous heart wobbled and caved an inch. Why couldn’t he see what she did every time she gazed at him? A man full of love who was too afraid to give it? But she knew by practice he’d never be ready to settle down. He refused to date anyone who was worthy of him, because then he’d be out of excuses. By dating women he couldn’t hurt, he was saving himself from his own personal nightmare.

Becoming his father.

He never talked about him, but the wound of being abandoned as a baby never truly healed. He’d set himself up to impossible standards in order to protect himself from ever making the same mistake. Losing his honor. Abandoning the people he loved. The easy fix was evident—he refused to take a chance on anyone.

She reached up and touched his face. The rough stubble scraped against her fingers, and the delicious scent of male heat and sweat and musk rose to her nostrils.

“You’re nothing like your father, Max.” He jerked back. Shock filled his eyes, but she gave him no time to process her statement, or catalogue her weakness for him. “I appreciate the beer and the help. But I really need to get to work. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

This time, she deliberately turned her back on him. Seconds ticked by. Then she heard the clink of the glass on the table and the door shut behind her.

Carina sagged with relief. She’d never walk that path again. She’d never be the woman to save him, and he’d never love her the way she needed. But there was a whole new world out there that opened in possibility, and she’d be a fool not to take advantage. Starting with her date.

Carina plucked her iPod from her purse, slid up the volume, and got to work.

The Farmers Craft Festival attracted a huge crowd in the Hudson Valley. Max made his way through the field of tents stretched out over acres of fairgrounds and stopped occasionally to examine local artists’ wares. Tables held a delightful array of unique items, from carved pottery to hand-painted birdhouses to watercolor canvases. Local businesses rolled out the red carpet for the event and held various demonstrations to entice guests; there were local charities, police and fire houses, karate and yoga schools. May bestowed the gift of sun and heat, and everyone ran around in shorts and tank tops, ready for an early summer.

Max breathed in the scents of grease and sugar, grabbed a homemade lemonade, and headed toward their tent. The screams of children from the bouncy tent echoed in the air, and a sense of peace settled over him. It was interesting how he’d adopted upstate New York as his second home without a bump. The majestic mountain peaks shimmered in the distance and reminded him they remained king, squeezing the Hudson River within their grip. He loved the familiarity of the locals without the usual snobbiness reserved for outsiders. Here, they were all family, welcomed the moment one decided to adopt a local town as his own.

Max took a hard right, stopping occasionally to chat with various business owners, and kept a lookout for the big sign. He hadn’t been able to oversee this event, but he trusted David to wow him. He worked well with the chef at their new store, and the samples they decided on were a winning combination. Thank God he’d vetoed the chocolate—it would have been a melty mess on a hot day like this.

His gaze snagged on the huge banner and the crowd squeezed around the table. Yes. Their desserts were a huge hit if the line was any indication. A flash of white moved in and out, and a familiar husky laugh raked his ears in a caress.

Then he saw her.

Definitely not David.

She wore tiny little white shorts that did nothing to hide her magnificent ass. Her top should have been conservative enough since the fabric covered everything, but the bright yellow only directed attention to the thrust of her breasts. Her hair was bunched up underneath a ball cap with LA DOLCE MAGGIE spelled out in black lettering, and flirty gold hoops swung on her earlobes. His gaze automatically took in those tanned muscled legs to her feet. Just as he thought. With every other woman wearing flip-flops, she stood out in three-inch yellow sandals that were impractical, ridiculous, and sexy as hell.

What the hell was she doing here?

He pushed his way toward the front of the table but she still didn’t notice him. She flew back and forth with samples of cassata—a sponge cake plump with cannoli cream and soaked in liqueur. Bite-size pieces of tort di treviglio looked fresh and tempting, and the honey biscotti seemed a big hit with the children. Juggling conversation and glasses of iced mocha coffee, Carina chatted, laughed, and handed out a dizzying array of flyers. Her face gleamed with sweat but she never faltered. The two interns played back up, but even Max could see they were out of their element. Rushing back and forth on lanky legs, they seemed unable to properly work the espresso machine and used their time to gape at their gorgeous female boss.

As if she finally sensed his gaze, Carina stopped mid-flight and turned her head.

Something weird squeezed his chest—an uncomfortable tightness he never experienced. The odd urge to take her in his arms flooded him and he took a step forward. Thank God he didn’t finish the movement. With a casual wave, she smiled and went back to her job as if he’d never appeared.

Ego slapped down to size, he cleared his throat and tried to get a grip.

He pushed his way forward and glared. “What’s going on? Where’s David?”

She never broke stride and took her time to answer. “Wasn’t able to make it. I’m covering.”

Max smothered a curse. “Why?”

She shrugged. “His wife’s pregnant. He was in the ER last night with her—she had false contractions.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, but he was exhausted and wanted to stay with her.”

“What about Edward or Tom? They’re supposed to play backup.”

She smiled and doled out a biscotti. “They had plans. I told them I’d take over.”

This time the curse escaped. Her management skills were nonexistent when it came to playing the hard-ass. She let the employees get away with ridiculous stunts they’d never to think to pull on him. She was smart, savvy, and a complete pushover. Her heart got her in trouble every time. “You should have called me, Carina. Dio, I’m going to slaughter my sales force on Monday.”

Her eyes snapped with temper. “Don’t you dare. Besides, I want to be here. I needed to learn the desserts, what sells and what doesn’t. I learned more in the last few hours than I ever did in the office. Get over it.”

The two teenagers took a break from the machine hissing in crankiness and walked over. “Hi, Mr. Gray,” they greeted in unison.

He nodded and tried not to seem like a mean old man. “Hi, guys.”

“Umm, Carina, we’re having trouble keeping up with the espresso. I can’t seem to get it to work right.”

“Okay, Carl, I’ll check it. Here, do the pastries for now. Don’t forget the flyers.”

“Got it.”

Max eased his way toward the side of the L-shaped table where the professional espresso maker loomed with monstrous proportions. She fanned herself and attacked the shiny robotic levers. “You’re management, Carina. The staff is playing you big-time. You moved yesterday and have to be exhausted.”

She gave him a smile full of sass. “Speak for yourself. I’m eight years younger than you. Stamina is not my problem.”

He had a sudden urge to tear off her clothes, tumble her in the field, and teach her about real stamina. The image of her naked and moaning under him assaulted his vision. “Watch out, little girl. I may have to prove you wrong.”

Instead of backing down, she hooted with laughter. “Are you kidding? The only type of stamina I need right now is a man who can make a hundred cups of coffee in record time. I bet you don’t even know how to make a decent espresso.”

He placed his lemonade down on the table and stared in disbelief. “You did not just say that to me. I’m Italian. I’ve been making homemade espresso my entire life.”

She snorted and finally tamed the machine. A trickle of dark liquid poured into the cup, and the scent of rich roasted beans hit his nostrils. “Sure, in your nice shiny kitchen with your gourmet equipment. Why don’t you get your hands dirty, boss, and show me what you got?”

“Are you challenging me?”

Carina shrugged. “Forget it. Wouldn’t want to ruin your fancy clothes.”

He muttered a curse, tossed his lemonade in the trash, and stalked behind the table. With efficient motions, he donned a pair of gloves, snatched an extra ball cap, and grabbed her shoulders. Her startled jump matched his own as the sexual electricity zinged between them. He moved her out of the way. The machine spit out a billow of steam as if their sudden intimate moment pissed it off.

He yanked back his hands and covered it up with a growl. “Step aside.”

Her pupils dilated as if recognizing and responding to the command in his voice. Max grew hot, and it had nothing to do with the weather or the coffee. Something about the awareness in her dark eyes hit him where it hurt. Right in his dick.

“Time me.”

Max knew there were certain rules in perfecting a great cup of espresso. Ingredients were primary—pure arabica beans medium roasted and not toasted, fresh water without any lingering chemicals to dilute the taste, and the proper machine. The rest was skill, especially the right amount of pressure used in the tamping process, which could make or break the balance. He fell into the rhythm perfected from years of impressing women and his own mother. Remove filter holder. Add fresh-ground coffee. Tamp while holding filter holder off to the side. Polish. Pour. Serve. Repeat.

Max felt her gaze on him but refused to break his meditative trance and engage in banter. How dare the woman insult his skill?

Carl whistled as he twisted and served four cups at once. “Damn, Mr. Gray, that’s some serious moves you got.”

“Thanks. Come over here and let me show you. One day you’ll get one of these bad boys and impress the heck out of some girl.” He winked. “Maybe even close the deal.”

The kid’s eyes widened. “Hell, yeah. Bring it.”

Max tutored the interns in the fine art of seduction via coffee. Carina reached past him to grab the cinnamon. “Why do men turn everything into a way to score women?” The side of her breast brushed his shoulder and his hand slipped on the lever. The machine spit in fury.

“Damn, you broke my rhythm. And the answer is simple. Men have only two things they ever think about: food and women.”

“Sometimes sports,” Carl said seriously.

Carina sighed.

The next few hours flew by in a whirl of activity until every bone in Max’s body ached. Still, there was something about them working together that fit, until each motion seemed coordinated. The back-and-forth banter between them made the work fun. Max realized he had the tendency to be a bit too serious, and her playful quips fascinated the interns, who always saw him as stuffy.

He also noticed the long line of men coming up for seconds and peering around the table to get a glimpse of bare skin exposed from the tiny white shorts. Carina seemed to sense the attention and play it up. Each man left the booth looking a bit bedazzled, which only pissed him off. Were men that simpleminded that a saucy wink or swing of the hips caused them to lose brain function?

Yes.

Especially with Carina. Her body was killer, but it was her ability to laugh and be open that grabbed a male’s full attention. She made them crave to be in the spotlight. Her spotlight. Max shoved a cup at the nerd gaping in front of him a little too firmly. The liquid sloshed over the rim and he yelped.

“You should’ve worn the sales uniform,” he said. “That outfit’s a bit too eye-catching.”

She rolled her eyes like he was an older uncle. “Sure, a black pantsuit would really make me fit in. It’s almost eighty degrees.”

“We need to retain a professional image.”

Her laugh did bad things to his gut. “Oh, Max, you’re a hoot. Why do you think I wore these shorts?” The naughty wink stole his breath and made him feel like a fool. “You taught me well. No reason not to use your body, charm, and brain to step things up a bit, hmmm?”

For the first time, Max was rendered speechless by a slip of a girl who had turned into a challenger worthy of any man. She seemed to sense her victory and, with a tiny smirk, served the last of the customers.