From Ex to Eternity(14)

Her sister threw a glance over her shoulder. “Bet there’s not one in this room. Therefore, we are champions, my friends.” Meredith devolved into an obnoxious Queen number, karaoke-style, complete with upraised fingers in the classic V for Victory.

That was the last straw.

“Come on.” Cara didn’t even glance at Keith before she grabbed his hand and hauled him up on stage. To Meredith, she simply said, “You’re going down, honey.”

Thankfully, Keith hadn’t protested Cara’s impulsive move or she’d have looked really silly trying to drag him someplace he didn’t want to go.

“You think?” Her sister smiled as if she had the secret address to a 50-percent-off sale on designer shoes. “Sit down, Paolo. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

The crowd hooted their approval and Mark fished around for a second set of questions.

Cara risked a glance at Keith, who was watching her with amusement. “What?” she asked defensively.

“Thought you weren’t interested in pretending to be a couple.”

“I’m not pretending. We’ve seen each other naked. Should be a snap to kick the behind of the—” Cara stuck two fingers of each hand in the air to make air quotes “—champions.”

“So you’re not going to be happy with me if we lose, are you?”

“No. So don’t lose,” she advised.

With a verbal drumroll, Mark asked the first question of the wives. “What’s your favorite position?”

Cara winced. Okay, she’d totally deserved that. She shook her head and wrote, “Missionary,” because it was true, thank God.

Mama would have heart palpitations if she knew her daughter was flaunting her sexual preferences for an audience, but at least Cara could maintain some dignity.

“Reveal!” Mark yelled.

Meredith and Cara flipped their boards. The crowd laughed and Cara craned her neck to see Meredith’s, which read “CEO.”

Cara bit back a smile. Meredith had enough ambition to decide what to eat for dinner that night, but definitely not enough to become CEO of anything. Her sister was letting her win, the big dolt, as a peace offering for bullying Cara into coming to the bar.

Keith flipped his board, and it thankfully read “Missionary.”

Paolo’s board read “All of them,” so Keith and Cara received the point.

Except she hardly noticed because she was picturing Keith poised over her, every inch of his delicious body bared. The things that man could do to her—

Keith cleared his throat and she blinked at him, fairly certain the wicked glint in his eye meant he knew exactly what she’d been fantasizing about. And he heartily approved.

Heat rolled over her and she squirmed against the hard chair as she envisioned what might happen if she agreed to test the honeymoon suite after the party. As a bonus, the suite might have another bottle of that awesome wine.

No. No naked after-party honeymoon suites. She was here to work, not waste time and energy on an island fling with a man who’d already had a chance to “fling” with her all he wanted and instead chose to let her watch his backside as it disappeared.

“Next question,” Mark said. “Few people know this about your husband, but he’s... Okay, wives, fill in the blank!”

Oh, God. What kind of question was that? Cara scoured her memory but came up with exactly nothing. Meredith had already scribbled down her answer, so Cara wrote the only thing that might work, and revealed her board.

It read: “A jogger.” At least it was true.

But Keith had written down “A microbrewer.”

“What does that even mean?” Cara demanded, too surprised to do it quietly. “A microbrewer? Of beer?”

Keith shrugged. “It’s been my hobby for ten years.”

Yeah, she got the not-so-subtle dig. Keith had been making his own beer throughout the period they’d been a couple. And she’d been totally oblivious.

This game was stupid. But that didn’t eliminate the panicky twinge in her midsection.

Their competition had both written “Third-degree black belt” for the point. Really? Cara eyed Paolo with new respect and squashed the odd feeling that her sister knew her Caribbean fling better than Cara knew the man she’d almost married.

The next question had Cara scouting for her wineglass. “My husband and I are complete opposites when it comes to ______.”

Somehow, she suspected marriage wouldn’t go over well as an answer to a newlywed game. The last of the amazing cab went down smoothly but didn’t jog her brain. What was with all these fill-in-the-blank questions? At least Mark could have supplied some choices. These questions were much harder than the ones he’d asked in the first round.

Harder, because she and Keith were virtually strangers now. Maybe they always had been. After all, she hadn’t even known about his aversion to commitment until recently. Before she’d planned a wedding might have been a better time to learn that.

When would it have been a good time to find out he wasn’t in love with her? Better yet, shouldn’t she have realized that on her own? But she hadn’t even realized her own feelings weren’t as strong as she’d told herself. She’d have sworn she was in love with Keith, but how could she have been? She couldn’t even name his hobby.

In desperation, Cara wrote “Religion.” Keith was Catholic and Cara had gone to a Methodist church growing up. It was the only thing she could think of.

Keith’s board said “Balancing our checkbook.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’ve told you a million times that I do balance my checkbook.” Cara threw up her hands. “When I get my monthly statement, I enter all the transactions in my checkbook and voilà. It balances.”

Or at least that was how she’d done it before, when her father subsidized the account. Now she watched every dime, but Keith didn’t have to know that.

“That how you run your business, too?” he asked mildly.

“Please.” Cara snorted. “I pay a CPA to deal with all of that.”

With a deadpan expression, Keith tapped the board. “Like I said. Complete opposites.”

Opposites in everything else important, too, like marriage, children and love. The thought rang a little false, especially since she was beginning to realize she didn’t have a firm grip on all those things either. Was that why she couldn’t seem to get past the wedding and become an actual wife?

“We mere mortals can’t add up the contents of a full shopping cart in our heads.” Cara waved a hand to encompass the rapt crowd. “Well, we can, but we wouldn’t be within a few pennies like you, Mitchell.”

His smile could have melted butter. “I’ll take that as a compliment, both that you recall something as mundane as grocery shopping together and that you’ve bestowed divine status on me. Guess we are complete opposites when it comes to religion.”

Lord Voldemort had spoken. She chuckled darkly, though at what, she had no idea.

Mark clapped his hands, oblivious to the rising tension. Cara’s spine hurt from holding it so straight, but she couldn’t relax.

“Last question,” the emcee shouted. “Who was the first person to say ‘I love you’?”

Cara’s board dropped to the floor with a crash. She couldn’t do this particular brand of torture anymore.

* * *

Keith smiled apologetically at his staff and followed Cara’s flight from the lounge. He only hoped that she wouldn’t take out his kneecaps when he caught up with her.

But he couldn’t let her go, not when it was obvious how close to tears she was. This wasn’t a little snit because they were losing, but something else entirely. And he had an unexplainable urge to know what had provoked her.

If it was the checkbook joke, she really needed to lighten up.

Cara dashed through the rain, surprisingly swift for someone wearing heels in a downpour. Finally, she reached the door of her room and ducked inside. Keith bolted for the threshold and put a palm to the door before she could slam it in his face. To be fair, she probably didn’t realize he’d been behind her.

He eased into the room, fully prepared to be thrown out, but determined to at least make sure she was okay before leaving. “Hey.”

Cara whirled. “What do you want?”

The sight of a drenched Cara punched him—hard—in the gut. Her little pink dress was plastered to her body as if it had been painted on, and she’d clearly forgotten that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Tight, hard nipples poked the fabric, and it was far more erotic than if she’d stood before him completely nude. Her hair hung in damp hanks around her face as if placed there by a team of designers for the maximum sexiest effect.

“You okay?” he managed to choke out.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Obviously not. I left because I wanted to be alone. Go away.”

“Sure thing.” Keith crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. There was no way he was leaving now, not while she was still upset. And definitely not while the view was so wet and so smoking hot. “As soon as you tell me what’s up. I’ve never known you to be so competitive as to get mad over being beaten.”

“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” she shot back, her voice wobbly and clogged with baffling undercurrents. “You don’t really know me that well, do you?”