Prince of a Guy (7 page)

S
HE WASN’T GOING
to be able to sleep, so she didn’t even try. Instead, Carlyne slipped out of her bedroom through the sliding glass door.

The back yard was silent. The pool empty.

With a little sigh, she stretched out on a lounge chair, put her hands beneath her head, tipped up her chin and studied the sky.

“Not tired?”

Sean. He was sitting in the lounge chair right next to her, in the shadows, and she’d been so intent on the fact he hadn’t been swimming, she hadn’t even noticed him right beside her. She noticed him now, noticed every inch of his long, powerful legs, his gleaming broad shoulders. And that flat, hard belly…she could never get enough of looking at it.

Then that belly tightened as he coiled, straightened and came to her side.

“I was just thinking about you,” she whispered.

“About how we kissed?”

Trust him to be so blunt. “Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Well, it was…good, for one.”

His mouth curved.

“And now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Slowly, his eyes dark and solemn, he sat again—on her lounge. Their hips bumped, and when her glasses slipped, he reached out and fixed them with a gentle finger. “What else are you thinking about? For once, Carly, tell me what’s going on inside you. It’s not all about just a kiss.”

“That was just a kiss?” She sat up, feeling exposed laying there beside him, but he leaned close with a hand on either side of her hips.

“It was more than just a kiss, I’ll give you that,” he said quietly. “But what else, Carly? What else goes on inside that head of yours? I can’t stop wondering about you. Who you are, where you came from.”

“It’s…not that important.”

“Like hell. I can’t stop thinking about you, and then there’s how you make me feel when we kiss.” To show her, he did just
that, leaned forward and put his mouth to hers.

She felt it all the way to her toes and back up again. She felt it in every erogenous zone in her body.

And she felt it to the bottom of her heart, which brought her back to her problem.

At the restaurant, Sean had sunk his fingers into her hair, but it hadn’t been
her
hair, it had been the wig. One more second and he would have dislodged it, ruining her disguise and destroying any feelings he had toward her.

It could happen again, right now. He’d learn the truth and it would be all over.

Ironic, since in the beginning, she’d wanted only to immerse herself in the Carly persona and see how the other half lived. Unflattering as she found the term, she’d purposely gone slumming.

Now it seemed wrong.

She liked Carly. She liked Carly’s life. She liked the people in Carly’s life.

And she didn’t know how to leave it.

Sean deepened the kiss, and with a helpless little moan, she gave in. Just this one last time, she thought greedily. Then she’d stop him, though it would be the hardest thing
she’d ever done. She felt his hand on her hip, gripping her close. Heard his deep moan.

Dragging his open mouth along her jaw, he worked his way to her ear. “What is it about you?” he wondered roughly, his breath on her sensitive skin giving her a delicious shiver. “I can’t keep my hands or my mouth off you.” One hand stroked up her side. His mouth continued to explore her neck, her throat, nuzzling at the base of it, and Carly, melting, still shivering, tilted her head back to give him better access.

She wasn’t a woman driven by lust. She’d kissed men before. She’d even slept with a few. All of it had been on her terms, at her convenience. She’d held the power and known it. She was decent looking, wealthy, and men liked that. They groveled for it.

Here, with Sean, she felt that power shift.
He
held it.
He
drove her. Here, she wasn’t beautiful. She wasn’t wealthy. She wasn’t an instant icon. She was merely Carly Fortune.

And he still wanted her.

It was both freeing and terrifying. “Sean…”

His tongue stroked her skin, right where her neck and shoulder met, and her eyes crossed with lust.
“Sean.”

“Mmm. You taste good.” He tasted her
again, and she heard her own moan. It was low and deep and throaty, and the pure need and hunger in the sound shocked her.

“This is not rational,” he said. “It’s definitely not smart. You’re leaving, going back to your home, wherever that may be, and…” His fingers, his clever fingers stroked her belly, her ribs, dallied just below the curve of her breasts, which were already hard, already aching.

“Sean…”

“Where is that, Carly? Your home?”

“I—”

His mouth played with the corner of hers, nibbled and teased. His fingers danced across her ribs, even higher, and Carlyne nearly grabbed them and moved them up where she wanted them.

He looked at her, eyes hot, breath coming fast, his thumbs stroking the bottom curves of her breasts.

More,
she almost cried. “I came here from my family’s summer home in Spain.”

His tongue caressed hers in a deep, long, rewarding kiss. And he finally, finally cupped her breasts. Pleasure flooded her.

“They must miss you.”

She sank her fingers into his hair so he
couldn’t pull back more because she wanted his mouth on her, not talking. “No.”

“No?” Another kiss, a slow, long, wet, deep one that robbed her of thought. “I would miss you,” he said.

“You’re nothing like them.” His thumbs were slowly gliding over her nipples, back and forth, making her gasp, making her writhe until her hips were undulating on the lounge.

“I’m not?” He stretched out over her, giving her his warmth, his weight. She could thrust against him, and he could thrust back.
Heaven.

“Did they hurt you, Carly?” His hands slid beneath her sweater, his big, warm, work-roughened hands. “Is that why you don’t like to talk about them?”

“What?” Was she supposed to be able to think with his hands on her?

“Your family. Did they hurt you?”

“No.” She was nearing the cusp of oblivion, thrilling to his body on hers, his hands on her skin.

Then he tried to pull off her glasses.

“No!”

“It’s just a pair of glasses.”

“Yes.” She wanted that oblivion! The promise in his body! “But—”

“You use them like a shield.” He pushed up, bringing reality back with a cold dash, and looked at her with those dark, dark eyes. “You use the glasses and your clothes and your makeup. I feel like I don’t even know what you look like, Carly.”

“I’m just as I appear.” God, it was almost true in a way. She’d nearly become Carly.

And if she took off the disguise, she wouldn’t even know how to act.

She’d forgotten how to be Carlyne.

“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked softly.

“I…don’t know.” Yes. Yes, she did know.

“I want you,” he said with heart-wrenching sincerity. “I think you want me back. But this isn’t going to happen without honesty.”

Regret washed through her because she couldn’t give him that honesty. She couldn’t give it to him, and in return, he wouldn’t give her what she wanted.
Him.

When she remained silent, he stood. For a long moment, he looked at her, all the longing and yearning so evident in his gaze a mirror of her own.

Then he walked away.

N
EARLY TWO WEEKS
to the day after Stacy had changed Sean’s life by leaving him Melissa, she called him long distance.

She’d called every few days to talk to her daughter, sounding both homesick and elated at the way her job was going, but never had she called in the middle of the night.

“You okay?” It was his first question. When she said yes, his second was, “When are you coming back?”

Today or tomorrow, he knew. Melissa would be picked up. Carly would go back to whatever life it was that she was so mysterious about.

His life would be back to normal.

He could work late again.

He could stop making sure there were vegetables and fruit at the house.

He could sleep whenever he wanted. Not do dishes. Leave the toilet seat up.

He couldn’t wait.

But his sister hadn’t said anything. “Stace?”

“Um, yeah. About that.” She spoke in the little voice that always used to melt him, but he was unmeltable at the moment.

“Stacy. When are you coming back?”

“Well…the job has been extended.”

“Extended as in a couple of hours, right?”

“Oh, Sean. I miss Melissa so much, I do, but they love my work here. My designs, the material, everything. And they want me to do an entire show. Me. They want
me,
Sean. I still can’t believe it. I’m pinching myself to wake up, but I’m not dreaming.”

Sean wished he was.

“Can you believe it?”

No, dammit.

“They really want me, Little Miss No One U.S.A.!”

And just like that, Sean’s heart fell right to his toes.

“Sean?”

“It’s great,” he heard himself say. “Of course they want you. You’re the best.”

“No, I’m—”

“The best,” he said firmly, willing her to believe it. Willing her the confidence she’d never had, the confidence he was supposed to have somehow given her but hadn’t.

He’d tried.

But their parents had never really known what to do with their young, wild, carefree, trouble-bound daughter. Sean had been ten when she’d been born, already independent, so he hadn’t spent that much time with her—until five years ago, when their parents had died one after the other.

Twenty-five years old. His own man. His own life. And yet he’d been left with this whimsical, fanciful fifteen-year-old on his doorstep. Sean hadn’t known a thing about teenage girls, much less troubled ones, but they’d gotten to know each other pretty quick. Together they’d done the best they could, but deep down he knew a real guilt, for even his best had clearly not been good enough.

He hadn’t managed to make Stacy believe in herself and her abilities.

“This is my future, Sean.”

“I know.”

“Do you think I could stay? Just for another week or so?”

“Another week?” His voice cracked on that one. “That’s a long time, Stace. Melissa really misses you.”

“I miss her, too, so much. She’s doing okay?”

Sure. If he forgot about her destroying his office one-handed. If he forgot the fact that she had a cry that could crack glass and a temper that could headline any horror flick. But she also had huge, expressive eyes that looked at him as if he were the center of her universe. And a hug that got him every time. “She’s doing good.”

“I’m making money, and it’s not flipping burgers. I can’t get over that.” She sighed with relief.

Sean stifled his own sigh. “We’ll be here waiting.”

S
EAN WENT
to work before dawn. He did some of his best thinking at work.

Fact was, he wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t sure about a lot of things.

Such as Carly.

But he was clear on one thing. They seemed to have a hormone problem around each other. It wasn’t something he understood.

Until Tina, he’d had the occasional relationship, which included a date every week or so, the midweek phone call and some recreational sex.

Then Tina had come along, and he had fallen hard. After, he’d closed off his heart.

End of problem.

Ever since, he’d avoided complications. Simple enough. Whenever a woman wanted more from him, he felt claustrophobic. But this time there was no claustrophobia in sight, and this woman was
living
with him. What did that say?

The thought was nothing less than terrifying.

He could want her and not trust her, he told himself. He’d learned that much. Keep it simple. Easy. Light.

Yeah, no problem.

So why he canceled a meeting, didn’t return phone calls, left Nikki with her mouth hanging open in shock and, for only the second time ever, went home early was beyond him.

So much for simple, easy and light.

He didn’t want to think about why he was doing this. Except that when Melissa saw him walking up the porch steps, she squealed with such delight his heart squeezed.

Carly didn’t squeal with delight, she didn’t even smile, but something in the way she looked at him melted him anyway. He didn’t want to be drawn to her, but it didn’t seem to matter what he wanted. His brain was no longer in charge.

The unthinkable happened the next morning, Saturday.

He didn’t want to go to the office. He wanted a weekend at home, no work, complete with relaxing. He wasn’t sure what
that entailed exactly, but he would figure it out.

It was early when he walked into the kitchen, but Melissa and Carly were already there. They stared at him in surprise.

“You’re late for work,” Melissa said, pointing her finger at him. “Bad boy.”

“I’m not going to work.”

Melissa grinned.

Carly went still.

“I’m taking the day off.”

“To do what?” Melissa asked.

“Well…” He glanced at Carly, then laughed. “I’m not sure.”

“I’ll pack,” Carly said quietly.

She thought it was over. And the two weeks were. His heart squeezed because he didn’t want her to go. In spite of everything, he didn’t want to say goodbye. “Yeah. About that—”

“Can we have a picnic?” Melissa demanded, oblivious to the tension around her.

“Just a minute, Melissa.” Sean lowered his voice to a mere whisper for Carly. “My sister needs some more time.”

“She’s not coming back?”

He shook his head. “Not for at least another week.”

She looked deep into his eyes for a long moment. “I didn’t expect that.”

“I know. Will you stay?”

Melissa was bouncing around at their feet. “So can we? Can we have a picnic?”

Carly was looking at Sean. “Yes,” she said.

Melissa beamed, thinking she had her answer. “Yippee! A picnic!”

Carly avoided Melissa’s gaze and started cleaning the breakfast dishes. “Have fun,” she said.

Melissa threw her arms around Sean and gave him a sloppy, wet kiss on the cheek. “You’re the bestest,” she cried.

Sean wiped his slobbery cheek, smiled at Melissa, then moved behind Carly, who was washing a pan for all it was worth. “You game for a picnic?”