Love Me: The Complete Series (74 page)

He knocked on the bathroom door. No answer. He knocked again. “Caro. You have to come out sometime.”

“Go away.”

“Why? They’re just photos. They don’t even show anything.”

“Like hell they don’t.” Okay, maybe the one showed the shadow of her ass, but until she’d screamed no one could tell. Across the room, a crowd had gathered by the pictures and started to point. Shit, they were figuring it out now. Or at least trying to. So much for abstract art.

That was what Carlisle had called them. He liked the colors. Hell, Roger figured it was for a good cause, and he’d stared at them long enough. In snapshot form, of course, not quite as big as they were now.

A man walked his wife to the door and stood waiting as she went in. “Can you believe the one picture is at ten thousand dollars? Isn’t that crazy?”

Roger’s throat went dry. “Seriously? Which one?”

“I don’t know. It has red and tan and—”

“Green. It has green in it.” Caroline’s voice wavered as she held the bathroom door open. “There was a green string to the suit, and it was barely tied and coming undone.”

Actually, it had come completely undone and was lying on the towel in little ringlets, but who wanted to argue? The man’s eyes darted from Caroline to Roger.

Roger played it safe and shrugged. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.” It was a good idea to play dumb at the moment.

“Are you serious about the ten-thousand-dollar bid?” Caroline’s voice held more than a hint of disbelief.

The man nodded. Roger kept silent. He wasn’t sure what to do. When her eyes locked on his, her anger had dampened somewhat. “You should have told me.”

Yes, he should have. He would have, too, if he hadn’t been a complete idiot and thought she’d find it cute. He nodded, unable to respond.

Caroline ran a hand down her shirt and straightened the hem. “Who was that old guy who tackled me?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. He came with Bob. You want to stay or go? Or maybe beat me into a bag of crumbs?”

She thought for a second. “Hmmm, the bag of crumbs sounds good.” She headed for the side exit near the bathroom. “Let me think about it for a while.”

He had no choice but to follow as she pushed out into the night air and headed toward his car. Hmmm, she had something on her back. He squinted. The sauce from one of the snacks the wait staff handed out. Yuck. Should he tell her? He was reaching into his pocket for the napkin when she whirled around.

“You know what I don’t understand? Where did you get those pictures? We went to the beach one time. Period. And you didn’t have a camera. I took mine, but I don’t recall—”

“You were sleeping, remember? You lathered up with lotion and dozed off on your towel.”

“Okay, but—”

“You’d untied that string on your back to avoid tan lines, and I, um, got your camera out and snapped a couple of shots. There’s one of you drooling on the towel—be glad I didn’t share
that.
”

She frowned. “Small victories. Which one is better for the art museum: me drooling on a towel or baring my backside? You obviously took more than just a couple shots.” She felt violated.

“Your backside wasn’t bare. Don’t be ridiculous. It was just a close-up of the tie on the towel and the shadow of your hipbone. You had sand on your skin, and it—”

“Sparkled, yeah, I saw that. I should complain. Or sue.” She yanked open the passenger door of the Land Rover and slid into the car, slamming the door.

• • •

He hadn’t even asked. She could tell the pictures were of her from the tiny flower tattoo on her foot. Otherwise, the pictures were anonymous and random.

“Caro, I wasn’t planning—”

“What? To share skin pictures of me? Or to get caught? Why’d you take me to see all this then? What was so important about showing me your, your voyeurism fetish?”

His eyes widened. “Voyeurism? It was just a close-up of a piece of string, a towel, and an inch or two of skin. How do you figure that as voyeuristic?”

“You watched me.”

“Yes.”

“You took pictures.”

“Yes, with your camera. Not from far away. I was right there next to you.”

She snapped her seatbelt into place. “If you took them with my camera, why don’t I have the images? Why didn’t I—”

“I kept the sim card. I pulled it and put in a new one. I thought you might get upset.”

Her lip curled into a grimace. “Well you got that right.”

They rode in silence to the restaurant. She debated asking him to take her home, but her stomach had passed the growling stage. It barked.

Not to mention, she was curious what else was on that sim card.

They ordered and ate the first few bites in silence. Outside, rain began to slap the window. She pointed her chopsticks at his nose. “You realize what’s going to happen now?”

He stuffed a piece of peppered tuna in his mouth and chewed. When he’d swallowed the bite, he pinched another. “What’s that?”

“If those really sell for that much, every guy there is going to ask you to take pictures of his wife or girlfriend. You’ll be inundated with—”

“Naked women modeling for me? Sweet, I hadn’t thought of it that way.” He grinned. Caroline wanted to reach over and shove his face in the soy sauce. “The terrible price of fame. I could sell the pictures and make a mint.”

“Yeah, you wish. Don’t get a big head. It’s a charity event, not the Smithsonian.”

“Don’t burst my bubble.”

“I can see it now.” She raised a hand and waved it across a fictitious billboard. “Freeman’s Photo Fantasies. Your girl in all her glory.”

“Hmmm. Catchy.” He took a sip of rice wine.

“Should work real well for you, knowing how much you enjoy surveying women’s curves.”

His eyes narrowed over his glass as he drew in another sip. Was he searching for a response? He spotted something over Caroline’s shoulder. Or someone. “Shit.” He plunked the wine glass on the tablecloth.

“Roger! I’m glad you’re here. I was planning to stop by later tonight.”

Caroline looked up, then leaned back to get the full view and height of the woman who towered over their table in six-inch heels. Blonde waves cascaded over the shoulders of a perfectly fitted silk blouse, which fell smoothly over a rather
tight
skirt.

“Marina, I’m a little busy right now. Can we talk some other time?”

“I can stop by later, if you like ...” The woman slid into the seat beside Roger.

“No! Don’t stop by. Don’t sit. Don’t—”

Marina glanced at Caroline and blinked. “Oh, you’re working.”

Roger’s hair fell in his eyes as he hitched it to the side. How long had the man gone without a haircut? “Nope, not working. Marina, this is Caroline. Caroline, Marina.” He waved to acknowledge both women.

That was an introduction? No explanation, just names? Could this be one of his bevy of sisters? Caroline scrutinized her features. No, not in this lifetime. The only way she’d be a sibling was if she’d been adopted. Not to mention the panic—or was it guilt?—written all over his features.

Caroline had witnessed scenes like this on television but never in person—when the guy runs into two of his exes at once. Or maybe only one ex—her—and one current woman of the moment? Hmmm. Funny.

The warm buzz of the rice wine debated. Caroline dropped both palms to the table and rose. “Well, I can see you two need to talk. I’ll just make a trip to the ladies’ room then take off. Thanks!” She waggled her fingers and tromped away.

Now what?

Caroline stared at her reflection in the mirror. The spiked, short hair was getting old. Time for a change. She changed hairstyles almost as much as that blonde girl probably changed shoes. So what? She liked the variety. Besides, she still had no idea who the woman staring back at her, through all the wild colors and hair, really was. She kept searching for meaning, but none ever came.

What was she doing hiding out in bathrooms to avoid Roger and the calamities that followed him? Wasn’t that indication enough that she should keep away? She scrolled through her text messages. One from her father caught her eye.

Did you know your toes are worth more than my car?

She grinned. Okay, the pictures weren’t exactly vulgar or indecent. A bit provocative maybe, but not completely nasty. She smiled at herself. Very provocative, actually. She wished that kind of artistic blood flowed through her veins. “It’s for a good cause,” she told her reflection.

A toilet flushed and a fiftyish well-dressed woman with dyed blonde hair stepped to the mirror. She pulled a lipstick out and leaned forward. “Honey, they’re all a charity case at some point.”

Caroline frowned. “Who?”

The woman waved the lipstick. “Men. I assumed that was what you were talking about. Was I wrong? Sometimes we need them desperately and other times they need us. Yin and yang. Give and get. It’s what makes everything work.”

Caroline’s current mood didn’t condone correcting the woman’s impression. She wasn’t making over Roger, and she certainly didn’t
need
him—or his numerous issues. Nor did he need her. “Good point. Thanks.” She exited the bathroom and weaved her way around the corner of the room, conveniently avoiding the table she’d vacated earlier.

What a stellar evening. Roger sure knew how to entertain. She shoved through the door of the restaurant, relieved that she hadn’t been called. A gust of wind roared into her face. Now, if she could just find a ride home without having to deal with—

“Hi.” Roger’s vehicle idled on the curb of the restaurant. Front and center with him leaned against it. A toothpick dangled from his mouth. “Thought I’d just wait for you here, considering how long you take in the ladies’ room.”

Caroline growled. “Where’s Mandy or Marny or whatever her name is?”

He shrugged. “Marina. Don’t know. I left her at the table after the check was paid. You ready?”

If there was a cab in sight, she’d have taken it—but there wasn’t. She stepped to the vehicle, and he opened the door. “Yeah.”

“Good. Did you know your feet are worth a small fortune? I got a call from Don a minute ago. That picture of your toes trailing in the sand sold for seven grand, and the one with green that you liked topped out a little over eleven.”

She hadn’t said she
liked
it; she’d just recognized everything
in
it.

He rounded the vehicle and joined her. When the car revved into action, she grunted. “Just shows you how stupid people can become when it’s for a good cause.”

“Or generous. You won’t believe what that little shot of your hip went for.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to know.”

He snickered. “Too funny.”

“Pictures of body parts on sand aren’t exactly art, you know. People take those all the time. In fact, I took some ... ” Shit. Just like that, her thoughts went across the world to a tiny body rattled with gunshot. Sprawled in pieces on sand like a fine steak displayed on dirty rice.

Seconds dragged into minutes as he waited for her to finish, but it wasn’t possible for her to continue. When he pulled into the drive at her house, she hopped out and headed for the door. One. Two. Three. Four steps. Six more, and she’d—

A steel grip clamped around her wrist and whirled her backward. Right into his chest. Polo cologne blasted her senses as his warm fingers took her by the chin and lifted until their gaze met. Was that sympathy in those big brown babies? No. She didn’t want it—didn’t need to be coddled. The creases of the dimples caught in her porch light, but his mouth never arched at the sides. “Go ahead. Finish what you were saying, Caro. Tell me.”

She jutted her chin. “I was just going to say I took some, too. They just weren’t as good. That’s all. You should think about changing colognes, or cars, or shoe styles. You haven’t changed at all in six years. You even smell the same. Change is good, right?” He
had
changed. She lied because she desperately needed to get into her house and close the door. He’d changed from a sweet-faced boy into a devilish-dimpled—whoa.

Roger crushed her mouth with his. No warning. Nothing. A nice, warm kiss that lasted longer than she’d expected—a kiss that slipped into something much, much more. Before she knew what was happening, his tongue was stroking hers, and her malfunctioning brain cells decided not to intervene. Instead they must have left her head completely, because she pulled him inside the door and onto the couch.

All she could see in the light filtering through her living-room window shade were—dimples. Damn it all to hell, she loved his dimples. She moved her mouth down to drop a little action into the left one, just a slight kiss, then he slid out from under her and she fell. Flat on her ass onto the carpet. “What’s wrong?”

He sat on the couch panting and shook his head. His hair flopped from side to side. No words. Was he speechless?

“Why’d you stop?”

More panting. He swallowed. “You’re like a yo-yo: up one minute, mad as hell the next. Then this—wow. You scare the shit out of me, Caro.” He chuckled between breaths.

She smiled. “Likewise.” She leaned back on her elbows and slid her knee against him.

“And just for the record, I wasn’t stopping. I just needed some space to breathe. I’d kind of forgotten this part.”

What part? He’d forgotten how they were? “Forgotten? Was I that boring?” In truth, she’d never really dated anyone before him, so if he said yes, it wouldn’t have surprised her. She had gone through a slew of men since.

His voice came low and husky as he crawled over her, his body stretched above hers arched and threatening. “No, no, not boring. Not even close. All-consuming, maybe.”

She trailed a finger along the stubble on his chin. Yes, she’d always been prone to confrontation and pushing past her limits. Until now. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“That’s the part that terrifies me: I’m not sure if it is or isn’t.”

Funny thing was, she felt the same way about their odd chemistry. She frowned. One of the things about Roger she’d always
liked
was that he wasn’t one of the dangerous types—the ones who chew women up and spit them out like splintered toothpicks. She’d encountered plenty of those. Sure, he
pretended
to be, but she wasn’t born yesterday. Any man who had three sisters and still talked to them can’t get away with much. Not when it comes to treating women badly. He was as in-your-face as she was, but when the rubber hit the road, he had a person’s back. He expected the same, too, which posed a problem because she wasn’t at all reliable. Not anymore, and
that
was the terrifying part.