One Week in Your Arms (8 page)

“Parenthood requires stability. Not only financial stability and the ability to provide for the child but also emotional stability to deal with all the issues of childcare. So many times, we're unprepared for the sacrifice required,” Marla said. That had certainly been true of her. Sophie's arrival had altered everything in her life, yet she had found the bond of love between her and her baby made it all worthwhile. She noticed Carson giving her a bewildered gaze.

Quickly, she added, “Sometimes I counsel parents-to-be. One of my best friends, Kayla Vance, is an obstetrician and she has classes for expectant parents. I often talk to the groups about parenting responsibilities. How to deal with those issues and how to be a good parent. I think being a parent is one of the most important roles in a person's life.”

Julia and Truman exchanged confident smiles. It was as if they were ready to call a wedding planner. Even Carson looked excited. She supposed he was happy their farce had been successful. He would not be subjected to any disastrous matchmaking schemes for a while.

All is well in the Land of Oz
.

Suddenly, the throbbing music of Kiss came from within her clutch purse. The chorus of “I Was Made for Loving You
”
blared from her smartphone as she withdrew it from her purse. Ben's name and phone number were displayed across the blue screen of her phone.

“Excuse me,” she said, standing. “I need to take this.”

Carson caught her wrist and gave her a derisive glare. “Tell him I said hello.”

She walked outside on a terrace that overlooked the ocean, topped by a cloudless black sky alive with bright stars. The cool, salty breeze rustled palm fronds and the surf crashed against the cliffs as it had done for centuries. There were still some things about the earth that remained primitive. That was also true of men. She thought of the look in Carson's eyes as she stood to leave the table.

“I thought I'd check back with you,” Ben said. “Last night you didn't sound yourself at all. I just wanted to make sure everything's okay.”
Ben. Always the friend and the doctor.

“I'm fine. Really,” she reassured him.

“So there's nothing wrong?”

Oh, there were a million things wrong, but he couldn't do anything about her situation. “I'm just a little homesick,” she admitted. “I'm in Hawaii.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it's just a short trip. A few days.”

“Is Sophie with you?”

“No. This is a fund-raiser for the clinic.” She was going to hell for lying. “It's really beautiful here. It's definitely like the pictures you see in magazines.”

“Lucky you.”

“Yeah. Lucky me.” She needed to go buy some lottery tickets.

“Listen, Kelly and I were talking today about Sophie coming for a visit. We would like to have her come and stay a couple of weeks after the baby is born. I want her to bond with him and him with her.”

Marla swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Ben,” she managed to say as she looked through the glass dining room doors. She could see Carson, sitting at the table with the Crawfords. Sophie's father, but not.

“I know two weeks is a long time, but Sophie's getting old enough now that she can handle the separation. And next year, we'll come there. Kelly and I are planning to come to Lafayette Falls for a month each summer so we can spend some time with my family. Maybe take the kids to the Smokies and Disney World.”

“Yeah. I think that would be great.” Marla tried to keep her voice steady. “I'll call you when I get home from this trip. Okay?”

“Sure,” Ben replied. “Take care of yourself and have a good time.”

“I will.”

Their call ended, and she remained standing on the terrace for a few moments.
When I get home
.

She lifted her phone and tapped the photo app. She gazed at a photograph of her precious daughter. The tension inside her relaxed as she pulled herself together.

For Sophie, she could do anything. She could hold her chin up and do whatever she had to do to keep the world back home intact. She drew in a deep breath.

She could survive this trip.

She could bury regret, sorrow, guilt, and even love deep in her heart.

So deep they would never surface.

T
he next morning, Carson rolled over in his bed when he heard his phone buzz. He scooped it off the nightstand and looked at the message from a Blackwell architect who was working on a project in Denver. He yawned and answered the text.

Overhead, slashes of sunlight poured through the ceiling skylights and across the hand-carved teakwood bed. A plush comforter fell over the footboard. He rubbed his face. Due to the exhaustion of the trip, he'd had a sound night's sleep. A hurricane could have swept through and he'd never known it.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat there for a moment. An old rock song played inside his brain. Kiss was singing “I Was Made for Loving You.” When he heard it on Marla's phone, it had taken root in his mind.

He had seen Ben's name on her phone.
“I Was Made for Loving You
.
”
Ben's ringtone. “How's that for a slap in the face,” he muttered as he headed for the bathroom.

He stepped over his clothes, scattered on the carpet. The large bedroom, decorated in muted gold, brown, and dark red, accommodated a contemporary dresser, armoire, and chest of drawers in an alcove. Adjoining the bedroom was a small den area with armchairs, a television above the mantel of a faux fireplace, wet bar, and a media center in the corner. There was plenty of room for another person.

He stepped into the shower and let the hot water pound life into his lethargic muscles. After he had finished showering, he towel dried his hair and threw on a bathrobe.

He needed coffee. Strong, black coffee. A morning essential.

He decided he'd have room service bring up coffee, along with a couple of croissants or bagels. He and Marla were supposed to meet Truman and Julia for brunch at eleven. Then he and Truman were going to play golf and the women were going to do whatever.

A soft knock on his bedroom door was followed by Marla's voice. “Are you up?”

He had not seen her since last night when she returned to the table after her private conversation with her ex. The episode had annoyed him, and he didn't think he could sit at the table pretending to adore her any longer, so he had asked Truman if he wanted to go to the game room and play some pool while the girls got to know each other. It had worked like a charm.

“Yeah, I'm up.” He opened the door and there she stood.
Miss Sunshine
. She and Julia had gone shopping last night. She wore a yellow tank top with a peacock on it over white short shorts. Her blonde hair was tucked behind her ears, showing off a pair of turquoise earrings.

“I've made coffee,” she said. “I saw there was a coffeemaker in the kitchen and when I was downstairs, I picked up some coffee and other stuff.”

“When you want something, all you have to do is call room service.”

“I was downstairs anyway. I went to the gym.”

“You've been to the gym this early?”

“It's not that early, and I'm a morning person.” He caught the scent of the fresh coffee. It called to him and he followed her down the hall. She bopped in front of him and his gaze locked on her curvy hips and lean legs.

“Did you do fifty push-ups?”

She turned and grinned. “No, but I ran five miles on the treadmill.”

“How energetic of you.” As he poured himself a cup of coffee, she reached for the glass of orange juice she had left on the counter.

“I had no idea this place was so large. The retail gallery could be a mini-mall, and we passed by a ballroom that looks like something out of
Cinderella
.” Her green eyes flashed, and she reminded Carson of a little girl who was filled with the excitement of a new place. “Oh, Julia said there was an infirmary on the premises.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It's in a separate building. Between the hotel and the clubhouse.”

“I'll have to stop by there.”

She was probably the only woman on earth who would put an infirmary on their “must see” list. He took a drink of the coffee. “Coffee's good,” he said. Actually, it was very good.

“Oh, I brought back a couple of doughnuts.” She walked into the dining room where a bakery box sat on the bar along with paper plates and napkins. She scooped up a plate and napkins to hand to him. Then she lifted the lid from the bakery box and offered it to him with a super-cheerful smile.

It was not the sexy Marla smile he loved. It was not even a real smile. It didn't reflect in her eyes. He took a doughnut from the box. “You can drop the act. It's not necessary when it comes to me. Save it for Truman and Julia.” He took a bite of the doughnut, and it melted in his mouth.

Her smile vanished. “I was only trying to be polite. I thought it might help if we started the day on a positive note. More or less.”

He stood at the bar and finished off his coffee. Nothing beat a surge of caffeine. “There's nothing positive about us.”

“True,” she agreed without hesitance. She met his gaze, her face serious and a troubled expression in her eyes. Then she broke eye contact and wandered into the living area. She stopped in front of the glass wall and looked out at the ocean.

As he watched her, he thought of the call she'd received last night. “Do you and your ex keep in touch?”

Instead of an answer or comeback, she looked at the ocean.

Inside him, a voice protested as he walked over to where she stood.
Leave it alone
. But there was something he had to know. He stopped beside her and stared out at the horizon where the whitecaps rolled along the surface of the ocean. “It's not over between the two of you, is it?”

She turned to go and he caught her arm. He wasn't going to let her go until she answered his question. A deep breath escaped her lips and she finally lifted her face. That's when he saw a tear glisten on her cheek.

His gaze followed its fall as she said, “I told you it's complicated. Okay?”

He wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Does he know you're here with me?”

“No. He doesn't even know you exist.”

Her words came as a blow. “You never told him about us?”

“I never told anyone about you.”

He looked out the window again as a tic created a notch in his jaw. “Sure,” he said in a rough voice. “There was no reason to say anything about us.”

“Let it go,” she said softly.

He had been trying to let it go for a long time. “Have you let it go?”

When she didn't answer, he locked his arm around her waist and covered her mouth with his. Her parted lips met his in the first kiss they'd shared in years. Yet it felt like just yesterday that she was in his arms, eager and needy. Smelling of honeysuckle and tasting of summer wine. She'd been a memory for so long. Was this real?

Her arms crossed behind his neck and her tongue danced against his before their lips parted. He stared down into her intriguing green eyes. All the uncertainty had vanished. Replaced by unvarnished passion. Now, he was looking into the face of the Marla he remembered. The one who'd driven him to distraction. The one who had possessed his very soul.

She sank her fingers into his hair and sought his mouth again. As his breath mingled with hers, he shed the blasted bathrobe. He was naked. He was hard and he was hungry. With his back against the wall, he ran his hands over the length of her back and dug his fingers into the soft fabric of her white shorts.

Her lips slipped from his. She slid her palms over his chest and pressed her mouth to his throat. Beneath her warm lips, his pulse throbbed, and between his legs, his dick throbbed. It remembered the past when it had found its way home inside her. He tugged at her white shorts.

He wanted to yank them off. He wanted all the barriers gone. He wanted her to wrap her nude body around his and drive him senseless. Just like before. With a will of its own, his impatient body nudged against hers and he pulled on her shorts. They didn't budge.

Shit
. Did she have them glued on? He felt the waistband, searching for a button or something. His knuckles brushed against the taut muscles of her abdomen.
Damn, she's fine.
He wondered if she'd be willing to do the fifty push-ups on top of him.

“Carson.”

He glanced up, grinned as he unfastened the front snap of her shorts. She eased back, her hands embracing his as she pushed them from her waist. His grin broadened as she reached under her tank top. She was gonna strip for him.
That's my girl.

He leaned his shoulders against the wall and folded his arms. “Do it slow, babe.”

I was made for loving you
.

She shook her head as she refastened her shorts and smoothed the hem of her top. Just like that, damn, it was over. She retrieved his bathrobe from the floor. She tried to give it to him and he refused it. He would just stand there, naked and proud and pissed off.

With his bathrobe in her arms, she said, “Carson, at Royal Oaks, we were
both
just passing through. I was the med student on vacation with time to squander, no responsibilities, and looking for fun. So I hooked up with you.”

She hung the bathrobe over the back of a dining room chair. “But I don't want that now.”

He cocked his head. “Since when? Three minutes ago?”

“Okay.” She reached for the glass of orange juice she had left on the table. “I'm not going to deny that I'm still physically attracted to you,” she admitted, complete with a longing gaze that he found provocative as hell. “And that produces the desire to have sex.”

“Well, we have something in common.” The boner between his legs was evidence of that.

She finished the orange juice. “Sometimes, what you want is not a wise or smart choice,” she said, her voice calm and thoughtful. “Sometimes, it's best if you pass on dessert”—she grinned—“or in your case, rare steak.”

Marla, the epitome of self-control and practicality
. He pushed away from the wall, grabbed the bathrobe, threw it on, and reached into the bakery box for another doughnut.

“Are we good?” she asked.

“Nope,” he answered. “The only time we've ever been good is in bed.”

On the bar, Marla's smartphone lit up and started playing a jingle. She reached for the phone. “I need to make some calls. Check on some things at the clinic. I'll meet you and the Crawfords later.”

He didn't say anything as she disappeared. The front door clicked as she closed it, and he was left alone. The only trace of her was the faint, soft fragrance she wore. He drank some more coffee.

Sometimes, what you want is not a wise or smart choice
.

For whatever reason, Marla had decided she didn't want him. He wasn't a smart choice. Maybe she thought only guys with
MD
after their names, like Saint Ben, were worthy of her. She might be brilliant in some ways, but she was all screwed up in the head.

He was a smart choice. He had multiple degrees. He ran a global company, and he made more money in a month than Saint Ben did in a year. Besides dick size, income was the other way men measured up. Carson would bet he had Ben beat in both departments.

He put the empty coffee mug on the counter and stepped outside on the lanai. The clear water in the blue pool glistened in the morning sunlight. If only love could be so pure. The ever-present trade winds sifted through his hair as he shed the bathrobe and dove into the pool.

Swimming in the cool water revived his spirit and his determination.

He had six days left in paradise. Six days of ocean breezes, endless horizons, and gorgeous sunsets. He had six days to come up with a new concept for the art center.

And six days to convince Marla that he was definitely a smart choice.