Fiery (5 page)

Emboldened by his claims, Carmen reached for him. Her hands trembled against his shoulders. Her stomach and legs were shaking too, but it wasn’t with anger or fear. And she sure didn’t want to give him a reason to stop.

Pressing deeper into the kiss, she slipped her hands up his neck and into the hair she’d trimmed. Her eyelids fell closed as she surrendered. Ryan moved his hands, one at a time, so he cupped her ass and held her tight against him.

She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. The position settled her against the erection pressing against his jeans.

He nibbled a path down her neck and to the V collar of her dress. Her skin danced beneath his attentions. He might leave her if things became too serious. Some people really didn’t change. Then the voices of her friends played in her head, told her to have fun while it lasted.

“Where’s your bedroom, Carmen?”

“Last door on the left.”

His mouth stayed busy at her neck as he walked. She took the time to move her hands over his shoulders and back. Firm, almost hard, he was steady beneath her. Then her fingers brushed a spot just to the right of his spine, beside his shoulder blade, and he twitched, jerking her closer for a second.

She smiled at the idea of having some power over him and repeated the stroke. He twitched again as he crossed the threshold into her room.

Ryan stumbled to a halt and pulled back from his caresses. Confusion marred the sharp lines of his face as he looked at her. “Twin beds, Carmen?”

“So?”

“Was it really necessary to carry the fifties theme all the way into here?”

“Why not?”

“No reason if you bring lovers your size in here.”

“Oh.” She looked behind her at the beds and pursed her lips. “It’s never been an issue.”

Still holding her, he dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “You’ve never had a man in here?”

Carmen shook her head and swallowed. This was her chance to experience what Aimee and all their friends had talked about. Grateful that his head was down, she cast her gaze to the ceiling and leapt. “I’ve never…” 

Like life had been put on slow motion, Ryan lifted his head and met her gaze. The want and desire were still there, but so was the last thing she wanted to see the first time she allowed a man into her room. Caution. “You’re a virgin?”

“No.” Holding her breath, afraid he’d put her down and leave, she shook her head. “I’m not. I just… It’s been a long time.”

“You said Byron’s setting us up.”

“I did.”

“He must still be holding a grudge about his car windshield.”

“Are you saying I’m a punishment?”

“I’m saying the old codger has a wicked sense of humor.”

Desire turned to dread the longer he spoke. Things were so much easier when he kissed her, but she couldn’t put a plea together that he finish what he’d started.

Ryan walked toward the bed and sank down, still holding her. “After all these years he’s gotten his revenge.”

“Revenge.” She pushed away and out of his arms. “If that’s how you think of me…” She turned sideways and pointed to the door, unwilling to look at him. “Just leave.”

“That isn’t… Damn, Woman. You’re a frustration.”

With the spell of his touch broken, she spun and looked at him. “I have a name and it isn’t Woman.”

“I know your name.” He reached out, snagged her wrist and yanked her toward him so she stood in front of him. His legs bracketed her on either side. “You’re misunderstanding.”

“A woman doesn’t have to have a long history of lovers to know a slam when she hears one.” She pulled away again, this time moving far enough away that he couldn’t reach her. “It’s really a shame for you, because I can do the splits across the two beds. That could have been interesting.”

“Carmen.”

She pointed to the door. “I think you should leave, Ryan. I’ll help you at the site, but we’re finished exploring this side of us.”

No woman, regardless of her experience level, would feel arousal when a man called her a punishment. Ryan Alden had shown promise for a brief meal and then he’d shown how little he’d changed after all. The glimpse of belonging she’d had vanished when he stood and walked out.

Chapter Five

“Kill it!” Carmen screeched and waved her hands at the honeybee buzzing around, unconcerned with the chisel and hammer she held.

“Leave it alone and it will leave you alone.” Ryan glared at her from where he was stacking supplies. From large, chunkier white rock to the smaller, decorative pebble rocks in a wide variety of colors, they seemed to have it all. Every size and color imaginable was in the bags Ryan unloaded. Some would be mortared together in three-dimensional shapes and others would be glued into flat-surfaced rocks to create colorful images.

He’d brought several shallow cement mixing tubs to use when they dumped out the rocks so they weren’t digging through the grass to find what they wanted. They had larger tubs for dying the mulch.

Chiseling the design of the state flag into a flat rock, she shook her head and grumbled. “You’re a crappy liar.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. The woman had worked with him every day except yesterday, when she’d made Tabby’s baby shower a priority over her own accomplishment. Every day Carmen had grown more outspoken and sexier. And every damn time he saw her he wanted to break something from the wanting.

“It prefers the sweet nectar of the plants. Without that, it can’t make honey. And, Woman, you’re not sweet.”

He had a way of opening his mouth with the intention of saying one thing to her only to have something else pop free. The something else always hit the wrong nerve and pissed her off.

“You wouldn’t know sweet if it blew you.”

His dick hardened at the instant image of her wrapping her mouth around him. No way was that the image she’d wanted to convey with her misfired insult.

“Leave the bee alone and you’ll be fine.” He dropped the bag onto the ground and shook his head. The labor was doing nothing to work off the edge of the memories that haunted him at night. If she was Byron’s revenge, the old man had to be dancing down Main.

“Sure.” Chipping away at the rock, not that Ryan could see the flag yet, she didn’t bother looking at him. “Right up until it stings me. What if I’m allergic?”

“Then you can swell up with the pleasure of knowing it will die soon.”

“Maybe it should sting you,” she snarled. “Are you allergic? That would be tragic.”

“No. Sorry.” He went to the truck outside the gate for another bag of rocks.

Byron came in, not caring about the wall intended to keep people out. He didn’t consider himself people. “How’s it going in here?”

“You have me working with a woman who’s easier to piss off than a cornered cobra. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“I thought they taught you patience in the Marines.” Byron waved Ryan off and headed over to Carmen.

“How’s our artist doing?”

“Great if you discount the malcontent I’m working with.”

“You two have been fighting since you met.” Byron sat on the step of the gazebo and sighed loudly. “I’d have thought you’d find something in common.”

Carmen placed the chisel and hammer on her lap and looked up at Byron. “Tell me something.”

“Anything, chickadee.”

“Why would you think Ryan and I could ever get along? He’s an overbearing ass who speaks without thinking and doesn’t care how his words affect people.”

“Sure.” Ryan dropped another bag of rocks with such force the rocks clacked together and busted open an end of the bag. His stare was hard and militant. “You’re so easy-going.”

“If I wasn’t you’d be figuring out how to shape the state flag yourself.”

He stepped over the pile of bags and moved closer to her. “You think you’re doing me a favor by being here?”

“I wouldn’t do you a favor if you
were
allergic to bees and got stung.”

“Now, Carmen.” Byron shook his head. “He can’t be all that bad.”

“All that bad?” She rose to her feet, faced Byron. “All that bad?” Her voice rose, enraged. “Do you have any idea what Sasquatch said?”

“Sasquatch?” Ryan hated that nickname. It was worse than when she called him Gunny in that dismissive tone of hers.

“That you’re beautiful?” Byron guessed.

“That would require charm, which is something Gunny knows nothing about.”

He didn’t know about charm? As if she was the expert on something she herself didn’t possess.

“That you’re a talented artist?”

“Pfft. As if he could be believed when he’s trying to get into a woman’s bed.”

“Don’t you mean beds?” Ryan shot back. “Which one would the man sleep in anyway?”

“You.”
She turned on the ball of her foot and lasered her gaze into Ryan. “You’re a real ass. No wonder the women in this town have nothing nice to say about you.”

“Except that I could rock their worlds.” He sneered, victorious with that little bit. “And that was in high school.”

“That’s right, Gunny. Thrive on your victories of the past instead of learning to be a better man.”

“You wanna talk about living in the past?” he challenged as he moved closer. “Woman, you’re stuck in the fifties and you’ve never even seen them.”

Byron muttered something about sorry bets as he hustled out of the courtyard, closing the gate behind him.

“Seriously, who did I piss off to deserve this?”

“That’s easy,” Carmen smirked. “Byron.”

“What?”

“That’s rich.” She laughed. “Like I’m supposed to buy your confusion?”

The woman who’d kicked him out of her apartment and then spent the better part of a week picking fights with him laughed. At him. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t even know what you said.”

He only remembered argument after argument until every moment in her presence was charged with rage and every night was filled with fantasies of redirecting that passion. “No. I guess I don’t.”

“You said I was Byron’s revenge on you for breaking his windshield.”

The memory blasted through him with a cannon’s force. He
had
said that. He hadn’t meant it the way she’d taken it. He certainly hadn’t meant it with enough seriousness for her to feast on it for so long.

He stepped forward, extended a hand. “Carmen.”

“You know what?” She dropped the hammer and chisel to the ground. “I’m done.” She stepped back, shaking her hands in front of her. “I’m done with the fighting. I’m done dreading every day I have to see you because I can’t know what hurtful thing you’re going to say next.”

“It’s not like that.” Shit. He’d seriously messed up.

“You keep throwing who I am in my face like I’m a waste of human skin.” She edged around him and toward the gate. “Finish the project however you want, Ryan.”

He swore he heard her sob as she shoved through the wood gate and ran off. Feeling as big as a splinter, he sank to the ground and dropped his head to his knees. He’d finally met a woman who lit a fire in his soul, who awakened his passion on every level, and all he could do was piss her off.

No.

That’s not what he’d done.

Anger hadn’t driven her away in tears just now. That had been pain.

Carmen was the first person in his life to make him feel like he belonged, or she had in those few moments of peace between them, and he’d driven a stake through her heart. He’d taken everything that made her special and twisted it into something ugly.

She was her own person instead of fitting a mold. She stood up to him, even if it required a bench, and spoke her mind without fear. If she’d been Byron’s way of getting even, she was the sweetest revenge.

Carmen didn’t go back to the gazebo for a week. She resumed the practice of avoiding Ryan. If she saw him on the street she turned and headed the opposite direction. If he called and left a message, something he did at least once a day to keep her updated on how the project was coming, she played the message over and over, listening to his voice. She missed the strength in his tone. She didn’t miss his hurtful barbs, but she missed arguing with him, which was sort of sick.

Filling the days was easier than she’d thought. The salon had been hopping with clients getting their hair done for Sky and Leo’s wedding. She’d thrown herself into sketching, especially on the evenings she Skyped with Aimee and Josh. And Kendall.

Every time she saw Kendall’s sweet face fill the screen and listened to her slurred form of speech her heart twisted. She wanted a baby of her own one day, though only if she could do it in the traditional way with a man at her side. She ached for a family to belong to, because she couldn’t spend her life hanging on to Aimee. She needed to find her own path.

She’d even gone shopping and gotten a single bed. Oddly, getting rid of the two twins had held a sensation of grief.

All she’d known growing up was a twin bed. When she and Aimee had gotten the apartment when they first arrived in town, the beds had been there. She’d seen no reason to get rid of them after Aimee moved out, and it wasn’t until Ryan had thrown them in her face that she’d realized a part of her had been hoping her sister would move back.

Carmen had given all that up the first time she slept in the bigger bed. Her world had opened up with the space to move and toss and turn without worrying about the bed’s edge.

Saturday had dawned, beautifully perfect for a wedding. It hadn’t mattered how much she liked Sky and Leo, how excited she was for them to have found each other, the idea of a wedding had been brutal. She’d gone, though, because hiding in her apartment would only get her in trouble with Aimee. And her sister would hear about the cowardice.

Claustrophobia had been the leading sensation during the wedding and following reception. Laughing. Kissing. Dancing. Hand holding. Loving. Everyone around her had the things she couldn’t have. Her heart filled with tears she couldn’t shed and her smile became more robotic the longer she was there.

She let herself into her apartment after all the festivities and the only thing she wanted to do was curl into a ball and weep. Then she noticed the blinking message light on her phone.