Truly Madly Deeply Boxed Set (31 page)

Those beautiful brown eyes had come from Anne, Mike realized, but Carly possessed an inner warmth. She seemed almost to glow from within. Dressed in an ice blue chiffon gown, her mother appeared cool and aloof. Although friendly, she lacked her daughter’s special sparkle, the elusive something that drew Mike so deeply.

“Mike,” Roger said, “Peter tells me you’ve been out of the country on assignment until recently.”

Mike nodded. “The Middle East,” he said by way of clarification. A place and a subject he was in no mood to revisit. “But I wouldn’t miss my brother’s wedding,” he said, returning to a topic he found more interesting.

“I can hardly believe it’s almost time to walk my only daughter down the aisle.”

Carly shifted, her bare leg brushing his for a split second before she realized and jerked away. Mike suppressed a grin and tried to concentrate on her father’s musings.

Beside him, she lifted a glass of water and brought it to her lips.

“It seems like only yesterday she was a teenager, and now she’s all grown up.” The older man sighed wistfully.

“It happens, sir.”

“I really miss those days.”

The glass slipped from Carly’s hand. Mike caught and steadied the crystal goblet before more than a few drops of water splattered onto the plate.

“Carly?”

“I’m fine.”

He doubted it. “No harm done,” he murmured. Beneath the table, he squeezed her hand in a token gesture of comfort before reaching to wipe the small mess.

“Thanks,” she whispered. One look at her ashen face had him questioning the depth of this father-daughter relationship. She wrung the linen napkin between her hands. Peter had been mistaken. Carly cared... too much.

No one except Mike appeared to notice her discomfort. He waited until they’d all ordered before turning to his brother. “Do you mind if I dance with your future wife?” Before getting that close to Carly, Mike needed to cement their status in his mind.

Peter leaned back in his chair and smiled. “My pleasure. I’ll just...”

“Spend time discussing business,” Mike finished for him. As if there was any other ending to the sentence, Mike thought. “Okay, then.” He pushed back his chair and rose from his seat.

“May I?” He extended his hand toward Carly.

If ever someone needed to get away from friends, family and all-around stress, Carly did. And he wanted to be her salvation, if only for the night. No one, including her parents or her fiancé, had realized how shaken she was. Another telling sign, he thought.

“I don’t think a dance is such a good idea.” She glanced around her for confirmation, but everyone else was already engrossed in conversation.

She looked at his outstretched hand. With the slightest hesitation, she put her napkin down on the table and rose from her seat, placing her warm hand in his.

Mike’s insides did a one-eighty. For a man who faced danger daily while on assignment without flinching, this sudden kick of adrenaline was a warning. Sexual chemistry was one thing. Caring another.

Carly followed Mike, unable to understand how he’d read her so well. He’d sensed her discomfort and offered her a chance to compose herself away from prying eyes. She already knew a dangerous attraction raced between them. She didn’t need or want an emotional connection with him as well.

As they approached the dance floor, Carly felt as though she were stepping over an imaginary boundary, crossing a path that would lead to nothing but disaster if she wasn’t careful. Yet with each step away from the table and toward Mike, her mood lightened. His grip tightened on her hand, prompting hers to do the same.

The floor wasn’t crowded, nor were they the only couple dancing. There was enough room for them to maneuver comfortably without feeling crushed, yet enough people surrounding them to offer her the illusion of being safe in Mike’s arms. He drew her close, slipping his arm around her back while still keeping a respectable space between them. She appreciated his discretion, and yet there was nothing respectable about her feelings for Mike.

“Was my SOS that obvious?” she asked.

“Only to someone paying attention,” he said, implying what she’d already realized on her own.

Though she ought to jump to her fiancé’s defense, she was too tired to make the effort. She glanced at Mike and smiled. “Well, thank you, sir.”

“No problem, ma’am,” he drawled.

She tilted her head back in time to catch his lopsided grin and couldn’t contain the impish smile he inspired in return. When silence descended, she let herself drift in time to the music. She laid one hand on his shoulder, idly moving her fingers along his jacket, feeling the broad planes of his chest and the ripple of muscle beneath the material. She heard his deep breath at the same time he captured her hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

Embarrassed, she searched for a neutral topic.

“After all your travels, family dinners must bore you to tears.”

“You’d be surprised.” His gaze roamed over her face before he captured the back of her head in his strong hand and settled her head against his chest. But he kept her wandering hand wrapped in his, close to his heart.

The song changed to a slow, romantic ballad. As the lights dimmed, more couples joined them on the dance floor, forcing Mike’s body closer. The rasp of material as his jacket brushed her linen dress sounded unnaturally loud in her ears.

She glanced up to find his golden eyes smoldering with unspoken need. For Carly the world had shrunk in size, to two people dancing in near twilight, alone with each other.

When she drew a deep breath, she was enveloped by the essence of Mike. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder, feeling like she’d come home. Without warning, the music shifted again, this time to a 1970s’ pop song. Carly was bumped from behind, pushed against Mike... and discovered he desired her much the same way she wanted him. The proof of something she’d spent the last week alternately denying and forcing out of her mind sent her reeling. She backed off immediately.

“Carly, wait.”

She turned. “Please don’t say anything.”

“But...”

“Not a single word.” She placed one finger over his lips, then jerked back as if she’d touched a live wire. With a single touch or a heated glance, the man caused her nerve endings to tingle and her entire body to vibrate in a way that was both new and familiar at the same time.

She clenched her fists to keep from trembling. “I’m going back to the table before anyone misses us.”

He opened his mouth to speak.

“Now, please.” She cut him off, the entreaty in her voice plain.

Mike, powerless to deny this woman anything, turned and followed her back to the table. His body still burned from a simple dance.

He held Carly’s chair before lowering himself into his seat beside her. He had to bite back a curse as his brother covered her hand with his.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in months.” Peter beamed with pleasure, more honest emotion than Mike had seen since his return.

“What’s that?” Carly asked. She laid a hand on Peter’s arm. Mike tensed but said nothing.

“Partnership decisions have been moved up,” Roger said. “We’ve seen a boost in almost every department and want to make up for the last few years. We’ll make final decisions in about a week and a half.”

“That’s great news, Pete.” Mike knew his brother lived and breathed little else but work. This turn of events ought to make him ecstatic.

“Carly?” Anne looked at her daughter. Obviously she expected some reaction from the soon-to-be wife of an attorney and almost partner.

“Great,” Carly echoed.

Sincere but flat. Anne didn’t appear to notice. Mike did.

“Well, with that settled...” Anne smiled, then cleared her throat. “I mean almost settled. What’s going on with the wedding details? Are you all set?”

Carly nodded. “Pretty much.” She leaned closer to Mike to allow the waiter room to maneuver.

Caesar salad had always been Mike’s favorite, and when everyone had been served, he picked up his fork.

“All that’s left is the final fitting on my dress.”

Mike’s appetite disappeared. Watching as Carly moved one leaf around the plate, he surmised that she wasn’t any more hungry than he.

“I’ll be glad to go with you,” Anne said, hope shining in her eyes. “After all, it isn’t every day your daughter gets married.”

Whatever Mike’s first impressions of Anne Wexler, they were obviously as false as the shield she hid behind. It was obvious now that she loved her daughter but feared being rejected.

“No thanks, Mom. I don’t need your help. I’ve got a million errands to run and last-minute appointments before the high school graduation.”

“All of which have nothing to do with me. I want to be there. Just name the time.”

Carly raised her eyes from her dish and glanced toward her mother. “I’ll probably just drop by the bridal shop during lunch on Friday.”

“Friday’s the Bar Association luncheon honoring your father.” Disappointment radiated from Anne in waves.

“I know, and I can handle this alone. After all, the dress is picked. It’s just a final fitting.”

“But every bride needs someone there for them.” Anne paused. “Your bridesmaids?” she asked hopefully.

“Are coming from out of town, you know that. And Juliette has a business lunch.”

Anne turned toward her husband, her intention clear.

“No! You belong with Dad. I can deal with this alone. I’m fine, Mom.”

Mike couldn’t take it anymore. For either of them. “If you need a second opinion, I could help out.” He draped an arm over Carly’s chair and leaned back. “I might enjoy it,” he said with a grin.

Peter looked up from his conversation with Roger. “Not a bad idea, Carly. At least you’d have someone there... you know, for moral support.”

“I don’t need...”

“Sure you do,” Pete insisted. “You’ve handled all this on your own, planned everything, picked everything.”

She raised a napkin to those luscious lips. “Not quite everything,” she muttered, then lowered the napkin back to her lap.

Mike shifted his wrist and tapped her on the shoulder. “I don’t mind.”

“We can’t,” she said. “It’s bad luck or something.”

He roared with laughter. “Why would you say that?”

“It’s not like he’s the groom,” Pete said, joining Mike for a laugh.

Suddenly Mike didn’t find the subject all that amusing. “If you want me, I’m available,” he said, suppressing the nudging guilt that threatened whenever he even thought about Carly.

Mike loved his brother. For Peter, Mike felt a kinship born of childhood struggles. For Carly, Mike felt... something stronger than he could put into words. But regardless of Peter’s faults or reasons for this engagement, Mike’s interest in his brother’s fiancé was low.

If he allowed Carly to come between them, he would lose the only family he had left. And so would Pete. For that reason alone, Mike was determined to keep a safe distance from Carly from here on in. With all the self-control that had gotten him the perfect picture numerous times, that shouldn’t be too difficult. But his conflicting desires just might tear him apart.

“Carly?” Peter laid a hand on her bare arm. Mike clenched his teeth in response.

“Okay,” she said, glancing at Mike. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Mike?” Peter glanced at him, one eyebrow lifted, waiting for an answer.

“Sure.” He’d help her. He’d help Pete. But at what cost? And to whom?

O
perating under the assumption that busy minds didn’t have time to think, Carly awoke early and spent the morning tackling belated spring cleaning and ignoring the persistent ring of the telephone. Unfortunately she couldn’t do the same thing with the doorbell.

She wiped her dusty hands on her jeans and brushed her bangs out of her eyes with the back of her hand. Whoever stood by the buzzer had more determination than she did. “Who is it?” she called out.

“Mike.”

Her stomach flipped, but she grabbed for the doorknob before she could change her mind. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“And we would if you’d answer your telephone.” He grinned. “May I?” He gestured inside and, without waiting for an answer, slid past her into the apartment.

“Pushy,” she muttered.

“So I’ve been told,” he called over his shoulder.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” Despite her late-night resolution to steer clear of Peter’s brother, she couldn’t deny she was glad to see him. She shut the door, turned and followed him inside.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.

He stood by the window overlooking the small park. Wearing ragged denim shorts and a black T- shirt, his impact was as potent as ever.

“I thought we should talk.” He crossed his muscular forearms over his chest.

Idly she wondered if he worked out and where. She’d love to watch him develop those biceps. She licked her suddenly dry lips. The Carly Wexler she knew never had such wayward thoughts about men.

He pushed himself off the wall and took two steps toward her. The sexy swagger and casual air that were so much a part of him never ceased to amaze her. Neither did the fact that he was related to Peter. And that was the thought that sobered her.

“Talk about what?” she asked warily.

“What happened last night.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Nothing happened.”

His eyes narrowed, pinning her in place. “Funny, but you didn’t strike me as a coward.”

She ignored that comment. “We were on a crowded dance floor. Nothing happened.”
If you don’t acknowledge it, it can’t hurt you.
Her mother’s voice echoed inside her head. Tears she’d suppressed late in the night rushed forth, threatening to fall at the slightest provocation.

“Why did I know you’d say that?”

She swiped at her bangs, then tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Because it’s true.”

He held up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “You win. For now,” he muttered. “It’s a beautiful day. Too nice to spend inside.” He glanced around, taking in the rags, cleaning solutions and Good Will boxes scattered around the room. “Definitely too nice to spend indoors cleaning.”