Prima Donna (18 page)

“I know.”
Carter grabbed Nick’s hand and jammed the end of the tape into his palm. “So why don’t you just shut the fuck up and cut the next piece?”

Nick didn’t move, just stood there blinking back at him, and trying his damndest not to laugh until Carter finally rolled his eyes and smirked.

“Whatever.
I know,
okay?”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“Nothing.” A shrug, a sigh, and when neither of those seemed to appease Nick, Carter threw in a grunt. “She’s just a chick; I’ll get over it.”

“
Get over it?
Yeah, right.” Nick was still laughing when he finally took hold of the measuring tape and stretched it down the length of the next board. “Good luck with that.”

“Don’t get excited.”

Han Solo,
The Empire Strikes Back

After rescheduling all her appointments so she could take it easy over the weekend, Regan spent the rest of the next week playing catch-up, running from styling appointments to work and back to more appointments.

She’d gone to Chalker’s on Tuesday night, but hadn’t stayed long because Andrea’s mom had flown in and wanted to do a dry run before the wedding on Saturday.

The clinic was hopping busy, so it wasn’t until late Wednesday before she had a second alone with Carter. Everyone else had gone home for the day, and she was on her way out, too, but if the stack of charts on his desk was any indication, he wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

“Hey.”

He looked up from the journal he’d been reading and pulled the pen out of his mouth, his frown easing into a slow smile that made Girlie Regan whimper.

Stop it
.

“I, uh, just wanted to thank you for coming by Friday night.” She cleared her throat quietly and smirked. “Rossick and Julia haven’t said anything, so I figured you hadn’t told them.”

“No.”

“Thanks.” She took a breath and winced through her next words. “And I’m sorry I didn’t thank you before you left on Saturday, I was, um…”

He pushed out of his chair slowly and set the journal and pen down on the desk. “You were too busy making sure I knew—
again
—that you don’t do sleepovers.”

Did that strangled laugh come out of her?
Get a grip
.

“Yeah, I, uh, I guess I get a little uptight about that.” Her breath stuttered when he took another step toward her and it took a few very long uncomfortable seconds before she got it back under control. “Sorry. And I’m sorry if I worried you, but you didn’t have to leave work to check on me.”

“It’s no big deal.” His voice was soft, laced with just a hint of sarcasm. “I mean, sure, I nearly caused four accidents racing back here from the city, but that’s okay.”

Regan was grinning before he even finished, but when she looked up at him, his smirk wasn’t enough to hide the truth; he really had been worried.

“Well, thank you,” she laughed. “I appreciate everyone putting their lives in jeopardy so you could replenish my ice pack every hour.”

“No problem.” He shrugged over his grin and rubbed his earlobe in slow circles. “I’m just glad all those years of med school finally paid off because I was starting to think I’d never get to refill an ice pack.”

The air between them grew thick, heading toward awkward, as they stood there, no more than a couple feet apart. And what she did next didn’t help matters one little bit.

“Well…thank you.” One quick step and her arms were around him, holding him in a hug she would have just as easily given to any of her friends who’d done what he’d done. But none of them had, he wasn’t just any friend, and this was no longer just any old hug.

Carter immediately closed his arms around her, tight and sure, and before she could stop herself, she was doing the same, fighting the need to bury her face in the side of his neck where she knew his skin was warm and his scent was strongest.

Pressed up against him like that was…
astronomically stupid
…but oh, man, he felt good. Two layers of cotton and a satin bra between them did nothing to dim the blinding memory of what it felt like to be skin to skin with him, how she fit there so easily, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

If she believed such things were natural or meant to be. Which she didn’t. And as long as he didn’t tighten his…
ooh
…hold on her, or didn’t slide his hand down her spine to her hip…
oh boy
…like that…

“Red.” It was a slow growl that sounded like it came all the way up from the bottoms of his feet. “You really need to start using that soap I gave you.”

On a choked laugh, she pulled out of his arms, stumbled back a step, and covered her face for a few seconds, hoping to hide what would no doubt be a shocking display of freckles.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that…” She waved her twitching finger between them. “I didn’t…
shit
!”

She tried to cover her face again, but Carter pulled her hands away and smiled back at her with those damn soft eyes of his.

“My fault,” he murmured slowly. “I warned you that I’d never stayed friends with a chick after I’d slept with her.”

“I know. Sorry.” God, how many times had she said that in the last two minutes?

“Don’t be. Truth is, I never wanted to stay friends with any chick before you, so…”

Why did he have to look at her like that, all helpless and pathetic? Ugh—things needed to lighten up or this was going to go too far to reel back in. Regan tipped her head a little and eyed him with pseudo suspicion.

“Is that another one of your lines? ’Cause if it is, I gotta tell you—you’re getting much better at them.”

There. Finally. The slow, cocky grin she’d hoped for.

“No,” he said slowly, “but I’ve got a couple new ones I could try out on you if you want.”

“I don’t think so.” She turned to go, but he was right behind her.

“Oh, come on, isn’t that what friends do for each other? How am I supposed to know if they’re any good?”

“Trust me,” she laughed. “They won’t be.”

“But you just said—”

“I lied.” She stopped at the door long enough to pull on her coat and tug her hair out from under the collar. “I couldn’t stand seeing you look so pathetic.”

How could she not smile when the left side of his mouth curled up like that, or when his eyes softened into those deep dark pools?

Oh, come on
. Who was being the pathetic one now?

Carter pulled open the door, then leaned against the edge as she walked out. “Are we good?”

“Yeah,” she said, maybe just a little quickly and a little too brightly. “We’re good.”

“See you in the morning?”

“Mm-hmm. Good night.” She didn’t wait for him to say anything else because Girlie Regan was in a full-on tantrum.
Good night?
Who, exactly, was going to have a good night? It sure as hell wasn’t going to be her, unless she thought lying awake all night trying to shake her need for Carter was going to be fun.

Yeah, right. Regular laugh riot going on tonight.

It wasn’t often Regan actually left the office for lunch, but she still wasn’t quite back on an even keel after what happened with Carter, and if anyone could make her think of something—or someone—else, it was Ellie.

Her friend was wrestling a clingy black dress over the shoulders of a mannequin when she arrived.

“Need a hand?”

“Nope.” With a final grunt, Ellie managed to get the dress positioned, then stood the mannequin up near the wall and tipped her head a little to the side and eyed the dress critically before turning back to Regan. “Feeling better? Pass me that chain, will you?”

Regan handed her the long silver chain from the counter and nodded. “Hundred percent.”

Debra Scott stepped out of one of the changing rooms in the back of the store and held a deep blue dress out to Ellie. “I’ll take it.”

“Mrs. Scott.” Regan smiled as Nick’s mom came closer. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You, too. Were you sick?”

“Just the flu,” Regan said. “Nothing major.”

“Not surprising,” Mrs. Scott said with a sigh. “Working around all those sick people day after day. It’s a wonder you’re all not in quarantine.”

Regan wasn’t sure if she was joking or not, so she just smiled. “Helps build up our immune systems I guess.”

“I guess,” she replied. “But Carter should—”

She was interrupted when the bell above the door jingled and in walked Judy Schwann decked out in a lime-green velvet pantsuit with a huge black belt hanging loose around her waist.

Fighting back a snicker, Regan looked straight at Ellie and grinned. “I have to go grab lunch, so I’ll talk to you later, Ellie. See you, Mrs. Scott.”

Before either one of them could say anything, she ducked out the door and crossed the street to the flower shop, where Maya was on the phone taking an order.

And she’d no sooner hung up than the phone rang again.

“Sorry,” she sighed as she ended yet another call. “Pre–Valentine’s Day chaos.”

“No problem. I just stopped in to say hi and to say I’ll be here as soon as the clinic closes on Friday, so save me some of the good deliveries!”

Maya nodded her thanks as she grabbed the order book and started writing again.

Regan picked up sandwiches for the doctors, then headed back across the street toward the clinic. A few steps shy of clearing the crosswalk, a horn bleated behind her. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder, did a double take, and stopped at the curb.

A black town car with tinted windows idled about twenty feet back of the stop sign, which was weird, but it got a whole lot weirder when the back window rolled down.

“Regan! Do you have a minute?”

Momentarily stunned, she looked around to see if anyone else saw, but the nearest person was sitting on the bench up at the intersection and he didn’t so much as cast the idling car a second glance.

“Wha—? Uh, yeah,” she said hesitantly. “But I have to get back to work.”

“Get in,” he said. “We’ll drive you.”

With a blue SUV coming up behind them, Regan hustled across the road and climbed into the back of the town car, juggling the bag of sandwiches to keep them from falling out on the road.

“I’m, uh…wow. What are you doing here?”

Griffin Carr, in his expensive-looking suit, his not quite perfectly coiffed dark hair, and his piercing blue eyes, leaned back against the leather seat and smiled one of his
runner-up-for-s
exiest-man-alive
smiles.

“I’m here for you,” he said as if that answered everything.

The driver turned his head ever so slightly. “Where to, Miss?”

“Just around the block.” Regan quickly gave him directions and turned back to Griffin.
Griffin Carr
.

The immediate shock of seeing him again—and there was no question he was something to see—was fading faster than she would have imagined. This was Griffin Carr, tabloid regular and next in line to play Bond.

And yet…

No
. She wouldn’t think it. She wouldn’t. She—

He was no Carter Scott.

Damn it
.

She blinked hard to clear the thought, then tried to focus on Griffin.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “What does that mean?”

“I want to hire you.” He picked a piece of lint off his sleeve, crossed his long legs, and simply looked back at her with his paparazzi-loving blue eyes. “I’ve got two films lined up back-to-back and I want you with me.”

They were already pulling up in front of the clinic before she realized she was staring at him, openmouthed.

“You want me to work for you?”

“Yes.” He frowned slightly, as though he didn’t understand what was confusing to her. “When I was filming here in the fall, you mentioned your business was closing, but that you still wanted to style. Well…my business is booming and I need a stylist. So what do you say?”

Regan squinted slightly, flicking her gaze between Griffin and the driver. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No, I’m quite serious.” He eyed the sandwiches with little more than contempt and shrugged. “You’re an artist, Regan, you shouldn’t be bringing people sandwiches.”

“An artist?” She snorted. “Hardly.”

“I’ve seen you work; you’re very good at what you do, and there’s no way you’re happy about giving it up to go work at whatever this sandwich-carrying job is.”

“I haven’t given it up,” she said. “I just work it around my day job now, is all.”

“Oh, come on.” His voice was smooth as silk, even through the tiny hint of disdain. “That’s no way for a woman like you to live.”

“Yeah, well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, right?”

Griffin’s driver put the car in park right in front of the clinic, then sat perfectly straight, staring out the front window.

“Not necessarily,” Griffin said. “Come work for me; you’ll make a good living doing what you love, and you’ll get to travel while you’re doing it—all expenses paid.”

Regan hesitated, her hand resting on the door handle.

“Look,” he went on. “Do you think I’d come all this way if I wasn’t willing to make this worth both our whiles? I have all the details printed out, so let’s just go inside and talk it over. Once you see—”

“I’m not going to take you into my workplace so we can talk about me going to work somewhere else.”

“Okay, then meet me later. Dinner?”

“Can’t. I have appointments after work.”

“So cancel them.”

“No!”

Griffin frowned as if he wasn’t familiar with the word. “You have to eat.”

“I do eat; in the car between clients.” She’d been doing it for the last six weeks, but it wasn’t until right then, that very second, that she realized Griffin might be right; it was no way to live, but that didn’t mean she wanted him or anyone else pointing it out. “Why me? I mean, come on, you’re Griffin freakin’ Carr—you could hire anyone.”