There's Always Plan B (14 page)

“I can do simple math,” he said in a mock whisper. “Kind of goes with the rocket scientist thing. And I still want to have dinner with you.”

“Fine. Then we'll have dinner. We're leaving about two-thirty.”

“I'll be ready.”

She nodded tightly and walked back to the house. Her body felt hot and parts were more damp than they should have been. She waited until she was safely inside before stomping her foot. She would not,
not,
be attracted to this man. Her only interest in him lay in convincing him there was a ghost in residence. Aside from that, he didn't exist. She would hate every minute of their time together. It would be slow and painful and probably boring, because, seriously, what was there to talk about with someone that young?

More important, she thought, as she crossed to the elevator and pushed the up button so she could go to her room, what was she going to wear?

Neil
had chosen a relatively inexpensive hotel a couple of miles north of the wharf. While Adam graciously agreed to drive around the block to save them from the hassle of finding parking, Carly walked her daughter into the foyer and used the house phone to call for Neil.

Her ex-husband came down immediately. Tiffany launched herself at her father and started to cry. Carly chose to take a more impersonal approach.

As father and daughter embraced, she studied the man she'd married. In some ways, he was intimately familiar. She knew every inch of his body, from his thinning reddish-brown hair to the birthmark on his right instep. She'd loved him, hated him, fought with him, cooked for him, made love with him and thought she was building a future with him.

“Hi,” he said as he released Tiffany, who clung instead of letting go.

“Neil.” She probed her heart, searching for some feelings, but there didn't seem to be any left. Could she really already not care?

“Want to see her room?” he asked. “I did what you said—got her the one next to me. It's got two double beds and everything.”

“I'm sure she'll be fine.”

If she wasn't, Tiffany had the number to the house and wouldn't hesitate to call.

“Have a good time,” she told them, gave her daughter a quick kiss on the cheek, then walked out of the hotel. Even as she wondered if she should stay and talk, she reminded herself that she and Neil had run out of things to say a long time ago. Better that he and Tiffany reconnect.

She found Adam waiting, his rented SUV double-parked. She climbed into the front seat.

“Go okay?” he asked as he pulled into the street and headed up the hill.

“Fine. I hope Tiffany has a good time.”

“I'm sure she will. What about you? Are you looking for a good time, too?”

Despite the teasing tone to his words, Carly felt her stomach tighten. She wanted to scream that, yes, yes, she was very interested! Extremely interested. Good time, bad time, just so long as they were both naked and touching everywhere.

As stunned by the thought as by the graphic images that accompanied it, she cleared her throat before speaking. “I, uh, have always enjoyed the wharf and Pier 39. Want to start there?”

“Sure.”

Forty minutes later they'd parked in one of the large structures across the street and were strolling along the pier. The scent of salt air mingled with grilling meat and fresh popcorn. It was a beautiful late May afternoon, and tourists crowded the area.

Two little girls ran toward them, their parents in hot pursuit. Adam grabbed her hand to pull her out of the way and when the family had passed, he didn't let go.

“Was it strange seeing your ex again?” he asked as he laced his fingers through hers.

Not as strange as this good-looking younger guy holding her hand, she thought, determined to act as if this was completely normal and happened to her all the time.

“Not so much strange as sad. We were together for a long time and now all that is gone. Except for Tiffany, it feels like a waste.”

“Do you miss him?”

She glanced at Adam, who was staring out at the water.

“No. I don't love him. I haven't in a really long time. Plus, even if I did have some things to get over, the B and B has given me plenty of work to keep me busy and time to think. There's nothing like an afternoon of folding laundry to clear the mind.”

“I'll have to try that sometime,” he said with a chuckle.

“Oh, sure. Like that's ever going to happen.”

“The house has been in your family a long time,” he said.

“Nearly a hundred and fifty years. I can't imagine a world without it. I grew up there and it was a great childhood. So much space, interesting people coming and going. I didn't have to go into the world, it came to me.”

“So why did you leave?”

She glanced at him. “You're asking a lot of questions.”

“I'm interested.”

Gee, when was the last time a man had said that to her? “Okay. But only because you asked. I left when I grew up. I wanted to see the world for myself. I moved to L.A. with my friend Maribel.”

“The cook who makes the fabulous scones and muffins?”

“That's her. We were going to make our mark on the world. She lasted three weeks, then went back and married her high school sweetheart and started having babies. I went to college for a couple of years, then got a job planning events. Mostly big Hollywood parties and movie premieres. A lot of fun, but tons of pressure.”

“When did you give it up?”

“When I had Tiffany. There were a lot of late hours and I didn't want to be gone from her. I tried wedding planning, but that meant being gone every weekend, so I ended up managing a doctor's office. After the divorce, I came back here.”

“Are you glad you did?”

“Some days.” She hesitated.

He pulled her over to the railing and stared into her eyes. “What?” he asked. “What aren't you telling me?”

“That the business isn't doing that well. It was in trouble when I arrived and I'm doing everything I can to make it successful. We're rebuilding our regulars and trying new things, like management seminars and off-sites and having special groups in. I have some horror writers coming in a few weeks and several culinary weekends and weeks. I'm trying to book a few weddings, some big parties, that sort of thing.”

“How's it going?”

“Pretty well.” He was so close, she could feel the heat of his body. “The thing is, our ghost is a big draw. Without that, we're just some old house on the coast in an out-of-the-way place.”

“You need Mary to be successful.”

“Exactly.”

His dark gaze never wavered. “Then I hope she's real.”

And she had been hoping for more. Like an agreement to stop trying to prove Mary wasn't. Of course that didn't make any sense. Adam didn't owe her anything.

He shifted a little closer. They weren't exactly touching, but it was a near-miss. She could feel his chest just millimeters from her breasts, and any second now his thighs were going to brush against hers.

“Who ended the marriage?” he asked.

“What?”

“You and Neil. Who ended things?”

“Oh. Um, he did. He left to go find himself.”

“Was he lost?”

Carly laughed. “Apparently. Neither of us had been happy for a while, but I didn't think that was a reason to leave. I thought ‘forever' really meant that. He didn't. I tried to tell myself that him leaving me to search for himself was better than him leaving for a younger woman, but I'm not so sure.”

“He'd be crazy to leave you for someone else.”

“As we discussed earlier, I'm forty.”

“So? You make forty look good.”

Man, oh, man did he have a way with words. “Thanks.”

“I'm not kidding. You're amazing.”

She felt the trembling start and knew it was a really bad idea to let things go any further so she slid a little to the left and turned to stare at the water.

“You mentioned you were divorced,” she said, hoping she sounded more calm than she felt. “What happened in your relationship?”

“We didn't get along as well as we thought.” He moved next to her and rested his forearms on the railing. “We were both twenty-seven and all our friends were getting married, so we figured we should, too. Within a couple of months of the wedding, we knew we'd made a mistake. Rather than stay and make each other miserable, we split up.”

As simple as that, she thought. “I guess not having kids helped keep things less complicated.”

“Sure. Kids would have changed everything. We'd both wanted to wait on that. Maybe because deep down we weren't sure it was going to last.”

“You have plenty of time to start a family,” she said. Yet another reason it wouldn't work between them. He would want children and her reproductive system had already gone into semiretirement.

“I'm sure you'll meet someone,” she told him, going for perky and positive.

“Me, too,” he said with a meaningful tone that left her breathless…and terrified.

“So, um, where do you want to eat dinner?” she asked. “There are a lot of great restaurants around here. I guess we should think about dining early because it's a long drive back to the B and B.”

He turned to face her and placed his hand on her forearm. “Do I make you nervous?”

What kind of a question was that? Was it reasonable? Was it fair?

“‘Nervous' is strong,” she said. “How about
uneasy?
”

“That's better?”

“I'm not sure if it's better, but it's different.”

“Why?”

“Because they're not the same feeling. ‘Nervous' is—”

He squeezed her arm. “No. Why do I make you uneasy?”

“It's a really long list and I'm not sure we have the time.”

He gave her that slow, sexy smile. “I have all the time you need.”

“See, that's one of the reasons. You say things like you just said. It's confusing.”

“Because you don't know if I'm coming on to you or not.”

He wasn't asking a question, which was good, because she wasn't about to answer even if he was. Jeez—was there anything he
wouldn't
talk about? She didn't remember the men in her life being this self-assured. Was it a generational thing? Or was it the difference between a guy at twenty-two and one over ten years older?

He leaned close enough to brush his lips against her cheek, which he did.

She'd barely had a chance to realize what he'd done when he shifted so that he could speak directly into her ear.

“I am hitting on you.”

 

The time between leaving the pier and heading over to the wharf to pick a restaurant for dinner passed in a blur. Carly was sure they'd walked and even talked, but she had little or no recollection.

No doubt the combination of his light kiss and the claim that he was coming on to her had scrambled her perimenopausal synapses until they became disconnected or overloaded or whatever it was synapses did when they failed. When she resurfaced, she and Adam were being shown to a waterfront table by a cute twenty-year-old in a short skirt. The girl/woman gave Adam the once-over followed by a smile that offered more than good service at the restaurant.

“Nice place,” Carly said as she picked up the menu, then set it down. Eating seemed impossible. As she wasn't driving, maybe liquor was the answer.

“It's one of my favorites. Everything is good here.”

A waiter set a basket of bread on the table, along with a small cup of butter. Carly inhaled the faint scent of sourdough and thought about how her jeans could be tight by morning. She did her best to ignore the bread, while giving the waiter her drink order.

“Vodka tonic with a lime,” she said. Usually she ordered it “tall” which meant more tonic and less vodka, but tonight she was going for false courage. Or at least enough of a buzz so she didn't actually care.

“You okay?” Adam asked after he'd ordered Scotch. “You've been quiet.”

“I'm fine. I was just thinking we've been doing all this talking about me. What about you? Tell me about your work.”

“Solid fuel science is mesmerizing,” he teased. “I wouldn't want to tell you everything at once. It's like a great story—you have to draw it out.”

“Now you're making fun of me.”

“No. I'm pointing out that what I do is really interesting to me, but the rest of the world could easily sleep through the explanation.”

Fair enough. She'd never been all that interested in the hows and whys of things. She just wanted them to work.

“It's a very specific specialty. How did you pick it?”

“It picked me. I was doing my postgraduate work in fuel cells, when a buddy asked me to help him with some experiments. I got hooked and had to change direction. Not something my parents wanted to hear, since I'd already been in college six years.”

“You have a Ph.D.?”

“Two.”

Of course he did. And she had those two scintillating years at a community college. They were practically twins, separated at birth. Not that she wanted to be related to Adam. That would mean her thoughts were not only inappropriate, they were also icky.

“Where do your parents live?” she asked.

“Arizona. Scottsdale.”

“Oh, they're retired.”

He shook his head. “My dad's only fifty-five. He's an engineer and works for an aerospace company out there. Mom has her own business, outsourcing payroll.”