Love Me: The Complete Series (73 page)

He heard a snicker. At least she found him funny. “Sounds
fabulous
. That should take, what, a minute or two? You’re such an interesting guy, you know.”

“Ouch. Nice. Worst-case scenario, we eat and listen to the music or the conversations around us. How much time do you need to get ready?”

Pop. Pop. Pop. The bubbles were taking a beating again. Was she nervous or bored? “I’m at work and can’t leave until I close up at eight.”

“I’ll be there at eight.”

• • •

At seven thirty, the door jangled open, and Caroline was mildly annoyed to see Roger approach. She had wanted to comb her hair and put a touch of makeup on, but the shop had been busy. “You said eight.”

“I thought you might want some help, and I was bored.”

“I can handle this. I just have to unbox some stock and lock up.
You
are a distraction.”

“What? You can’t handle me
and
this?” He gestured at the shop.

She arched a brow. “Are you baiting me to say something stupid so you can deliver a clever comeback like ‘I’ll let you handle me any time’? Or maybe ‘wanna lock me up too’? Or—”

Roger plucked a leaf from a plant. She gave him her best chastising glare. He returned a dimpled grin. “I can do those things. Or I can leave. Your choice.”

She wanted to slap his rude face, but instead she pulled a box knife from the drawer and pointed it toward him. “You can stay. But I know how to use this, so behave yourself.”

“When have I not behaved?”

Her insides did a little somersault at the thought as she took a trip to the past and relived a memory or two. That was the thing. She wasn’t really interested in going back there—but she sure liked remembering.

“I don’t think I want to answer that question.”

Roger held up his hands in surrender then slowly turned a palm over and flicked his fingers in request. “I’ll do the boxes. Where are they?”

She held her back stiff as he followed her to the stockroom. She showed him what to do and returned to the store. A few minutes later, a laugh bellowed from the depths of the room.

“What’s so funny?” she called, not wanting to go see. She didn’t trust herself in that small room with him. Not for long.

“Your partner’s screensaver. When did you guys take these pictures?” His voice echoed through the door.

Uh-oh. Damn, she wished she’d thought about the computer before letting him into their private space. A chill settled in her shoulders. It was one thing for Abby to make a video of their skinny-dipping experience in the freezing cold water in France. It was something totally different to have a complete stranger view her bare ass as she tiptoed to the edge and did a screaming belly-flop into the murky water. Over and over. Abby had thought it hilarious to edit the clip so that it could be viewed on a loop.

Okay, he wasn’t a total stranger. He was Roger. Her old flame from college. Correction: old friend. No, that wasn’t right either. Hell, she didn’t really know
what
he was. Except here in her stockroom, laughing at naked pictures of
her.
She checked the time. Ten minutes to closing. “Oh, hell, no one’s going to come in this late.”

She twisted the lock into place, flipped the lights off, and stomped to the back. The door clanked against a shelf as she flung it open. “Stop looking at—” She stopped mid-sentence.

Roger had emptied the boxes, placed the contents as directed, and folded the cardboard and stowed it near their back door. At the moment, he was reclined in the office chair with one leg flung up on the desk as he rocked back and forth. The chair creaked under his weight, and he dropped his feet. A daisy stem dangled from his teeth like a cigar. He pulled it from his lips and pointed at the screen with the flower. “These are amazing. Was Abby with you over there? I don’t remember her from school.”

Of course he didn’t. “We met in France and traveled together for a while, then went our separate ways when I had to report on an upheaval in the Middle East. It was my big chance.”

He nodded. “Everyone needs one of those. How’d that turn out for ya?”

Not worth a shit, but she’d never admit as much. She shrugged, thankful that her hands weren’t shaking. That subject was off-limits no matter how many times he asked. “It wasn’t as big a deal as I’d hoped.”

He frowned. “Or maybe it was bigger.”

She tossed her head back and dropped a hand to her hip. “What does that mean?”

The chair squeaked as he rose to tower above her. He leaned in and whispered, “It means I read about you a lot over the last few days. There’s a lot more to that story than you want to admit, beautiful.”

A knot formed in her stomach. “There’s nothing to read. It was a bust. I didn’t write the piece because I messed up. That’s why I came home: I stunk at finding and reporting the story. Someone else got the job a week later.” There were approximately two inches between his mouth and hers. Two inches of cold, steel-hardened air. She glanced at his mouth. She could close that gap in a second if she could move. But she couldn’t. What would he do? She blinked.

His breath feathered against her face. “The story’s there. It’s still in your head. I can see it in your eyes. Whatever happened over there branded you, sweetness.” He tapped a finger to her forehead to signal the imprint.

Caroline took a step backward. She forced the shudder from her shoulders. “Don’t call me that. Let’s get out of here.”

“No, let’s see the rest of your pictures from Europe. Show me.” He tapped a finger to a key. The screensaver disappeared, replaced by a password prompt.

Gulp. She was
not
showing him those. TMI. Too personal. Too ... everything. She shrugged innocently. “I don’t know Abby’s password.”

“Really? I doubt your partner has any secrets.”

Dang. He was right, had read her like a book in fact, a trait she hated about him. Abby shared everything with her; after all, they
were
partners. Of course there was the fact that Abby had misled his friend Carter for months through texting and secret identities. She hoisted a brow. “You’re kidding, right? Abby?”

“Good point. Okay, I won’t force you to show something that makes you uncomfortable. You hungry? What do you feel like, sushi?” His hand enclosed hers with warmth as he pulled her from the room.

She felt her body depressurize as she followed him from the store and down the street. Now she just needed to clamp the lid shut on any more questions about Europe.

His cell beeped. Caroline noted he shot it a glance then returned it to darkness. “Please don’t tell me you’re a text-o-holic like your buddy Carter. I’d rather stick pins in my eyeballs than share a meal with social media..”

He hefted his shoulders up and down. “Strange metaphor. Don’t worry. Carter is overseas at the moment, and I have a conference call with him later. Just wanted to make sure we were still on because if he canceled, I’d have all the time in the world tonight. If not, I’d have to work in a few hours.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Nice ass, by the way.” She remembered how Roger had smiled at the image of two bikini-less girls on the computer before they left.

She punched his arm.

Roger turned his Land Rover into the parking lot of the museum. Caroline swiveled to survey a set of neon signs announcing that the museum was hosting a fundraiser. “They serve sushi here?”

He shook his head. “I promised a friend I’d stop in if her pictures were ever chosen for display.”

Caroline frowned. “You’re taking me to a fundraiser? Why didn’t you say something? I’m not dressed for—”

He reached out and grabbed her hand as the engine died. “You look great. We’ll only be here a minute or two. I have to stop in and say hello to the people who coordinated this, and then we can go. Besides, you’re a photographer. This is right up your alley.”

He grabbed his collar and pulled. It was a stupid idea to attend, and she’d probably go ape-shit when she saw the pictures. Still, he had to at least make an appearance. He’d planned to take her over the weekend, which would have given him a chance to prepare her for the shock. But he wasn’t about to give up an opportunity to get her out for an evening alone. That kiss had fueled his imagination for a short while, but it wasn’t enough.

He stepped from the vehicle and walked to open her door. With it open and waiting, he figured she had two choices. One, sit there while he went in. Two, get out and join him. Of course, there
was
a third option that involved hailing a cab, but she wasn’t that rude.

The foggy evening cast a surreal haze over the glowing neon inside the windows. Silhouettes of people entering the building beckoned them to follow.

“This is a fundraiser? What for?”

He hesitated for a second. Hopefully she wouldn’t freak this soon. “The oncology ward at St. Jude’s.”

She stilled to a statuesque pose. Her face went ashen. “Nuh-uh. I hate hospitals. My mother—”

He grabbed her arm. “I know. Your mother was ill. Don’t worry, we’re not going to the hospital, and there aren’t any patients here as far as I know. Just a lot of artwork. It’s even a silent auction, so it’ll be all the more ... quiet.”

He clutched her arm until they’d weaved through the crowded entrance and past the greeters. How he’d managed to slip by without being stopped was a feat in itself. “Roger,” a voice called.

Damn, wishful thinking.

He turned around, expecting the art exhibit’s coordinator. Instead ...

“Dad?” Caroline’s eyes popped. She pivoted her eyes between the two men. “You guys know each other?”

Roger cleared his throat. How should he continue?

Her father pasted on a smile that indicated a shared secret between the two. “Of course we do. He was here when I delivered our donation for the event. Have you seen Carol’s picture? They hung it down at the end. She would have been so glad. The bids are already over a thousand. I can’t believe it.”

Yikes. That wasn’t exactly how Roger planned to break the news.

Caroline squinted toward the darkened hall. “Wait. What? Mom’s picture? What are you talking about?” She clip-clopped away in search of it.

He had planned to do this gradually. Show her all the other photos. The ones of the beach. Of the kids. Of Conan. Then, when she’d adjusted to them, and if she was in a decent mood, he’d show her Carol. He’d hoped it would melt her heart to see how beautiful the picture had turned out.

“She doesn’t know, does she?” His father’s solemn voice was like lead.

Roger shook his head. “I only submitted them a couple of days ago on a whim. It seemed like a good tribute, and I never had a chance to—”

Bob cursed and sped after his daughter. “I’ll be back to find out why the hell you brought my daughter here. Idiot.” An elderly gentleman who had accompanied Bob trailed after him at a snail’s space. He repeated the curse as he worked his ancient legs in an effort to follow.

“Because she deserves to know,” Roger muttered to thin air.

What should he do? Cut her off in the hallway? He should have skipped the event, but he’d promised to attend.

“Is that my foot?” a voice shrieked. Damn. Roger felt his face flush. She’d seen the first picture. “And my ... backside? Are you
kidding
me?” Damn.

Crash.
A picture on an easel dipped and tumbled. Roger rushed over and tried to catch it but missed. Two others hit the floor as Caroline thrashed and cursed. Her cheeks flamed to match the red ribbon she’d tied at her neck. She held up a finger and crooked it. Straight. At him.

“You.”

He looked around. “Who?”

“You know who. You took these?”

“Uh.” He wasn’t sure—had he? His brain went blank. “Uh.”

“You can’t
do
that. You can’t take pictures of people and plaster them all over the damn place without permission. You can’t ... ”

Her arms were spinning like a windmill. If she kept going, she would twist out of her sockets.

“Caroline. Calm down.” Her father arrived and pulled her into a bear hug. “You’re making a scene.”

She sputtered. “Scene? This guy takes pictures of me years ago and then blows them up and displays them here for, for—”

“A good cause. It’s for a good cause, honey. Besides, until you blurted the newsflash, there wasn’t any way to know these were of you. Your face isn’t on a single one.”

“No, just my ass.” She pointed at one of the spilled frames. “And my leg. And—oh crap, is that my ... Jesus Christ.” She attempted to bend and look at the picture below, but her father held her tight.

The elderly gentleman finally bulldozed behind Caroline’s father, holding his arms out wide. He flung them around the man and his daughter and grinned. Had he called out
bear hug
? He grunted something else before the three toppled over, taking another easel with them.

Caroline shoved the two men off and crawled out from under a framed picture. She held up a thin forefinger. “Roger Freeman, get me the hell out of here before I explode in your face.”

He glanced around. Hmmm. Judging by the state of the room, it was too late. Did that mean the sushi was canceled, too? His stomach growled in protest.

She lifted to one knee then stood erect. “Never mind. I’ll find my own way out.”

Don Carlisle, the organizer of the event, whispered into Roger’s ear. “It sucks to be you, man. I was wondering ... does this mean those pieces are no longer available? I need to know because there were bids on them. We need every penny.”

Roger held up a hand and stuttered. “Hold that thought.” He ran after Caroline, silently thanking her for wearing crazy colors instead of a fancy dress. It made her easy to spot—until she bolted into the women’s room.

He waited. And waited. The door swished open. Two random women exited. No Caroline. How long would she hide out in there?

Minutes ticked by. She had to come out eventually; there were no other exits. Her father swung by and handed him a glass of scotch and soda. “This’ll calm her a little.”

Roger took one look at the liquid and tossed it back in three gulps. Forget her, he needed a little calming himself. He hadn’t really thought the whole thing through. He thought she’d, just maybe, like the pictures? Dumb.