Truly Madly Deeply Boxed Set(88)
“I’m used to drinking out of bottles and cans. Anything else is paradise.”
“Peter said something about you being a photo-journalist?”
“I was,” Mike said.
“And now you’re...?”
“On vacation,” he said smoothly. He glanced around the room and chose a reclining chair in the corner. It rocked slightly under his weight and he laughed. “I love these things.”
She smiled. “Me, too.”
“So much more comfortable than that hard leather thing Pete calls a couch.”
Carly’s smile faded and he regretted whatever he’d said to cause the change.
“I see. Talking about work is off-limits?” She pushed the topic away from herself and back to him.
“Not if there’s something you really want to know.”
“What subjects have you covered recently?”
“This and that,” he said, unwilling to delve deeper into his most current assignment. Even for Carly.
“Can’t you be more specific?”
I’d prefer not to. “I cover hard news. I don’t dig around in celebrity trash cans.” He forced a grin.
She smiled in understanding. Her brown eyes met his. A man could drown in the compassion he saw there. “I’d like to see your work sometime,” she said.
“My pleasure.” That he wanted to share his private photos with Carly gave him some indication of his level of involvement. More than was prudent he knew. For a man who avoided emotional entanglements, the revelation stunned him.
He forced himself to think of his brother and suppressed a groan. “After you left this afternoon I spoke with Pete.”
“And?”
“Since he’ll be busy training a new associate, I’m at your disposal for any wedding-related things you need.” Or anything else, for that matter.
“Training. Is that what they call it these days?”
“What?”
“See this?” Her arm swept the table loaded with food that smelled amazing. Between the canned food he’d eaten overseas and the takeout he’d feasted on since his return, Carly’s table looked like manna from heaven.
So did she. A silky lemon yellow pajama set—pants and a long-sleeved top—draped across her soft curves and smooth skin. The material rustled as she crossed the room.
“Chicken, gourmet salads, caviar and assorted desserts. All your brother’s favorites.”
He glanced from the food to her stricken expression. “He stood you up?” That thought was as sickening to him as the thought of Carly greeting his brother dressed for bed.
“No, that would have hurt,” she admitted. “He wasn’t at fault; I was. I broke the ultimate taboo.”
Her cheeks burned with color and a range of emotion flared in her eyes. She was, Mike decided, either angry or on her way toward drunk. He couldn’t determine which. He glanced at the bottle, but the deep green obscured the level of the liquid inside.
He turned back to Carly. “And what was that?” he asked.
“I showed up unexpectedly, dinner in hand for my overworked fiancé.”
“He ignored you for work?” The selfish bastard. Mike stood, crossing the room until he was close enough to breathe the intoxicating scent of vanilla. Who needed champagne when a man could get drunk on this?
“Nope. Guess again.”
He rubbed his forehead, wondering what his moron brother, who cared about but didn’t love Carly, had done now. “Was he angry you surprised him?”
“Nope. Guess again.” A smile quirked around the edges of her mouth. “Three strikes and you’re out.”
Mike tossed his hands in the air in a gesture of defeat. “I give up. What happened?” If his brother had hurt her, Mike would ring his stuffy neck.
“He was already eating.” She paced the floor. Her hips swayed beneath the opaque material.
He already knew he could span her waist with his bare hands. “And?”
“And laughing.” She whirled around to face him. “Did you ever hear anything so ridiculous? Peter was laughing with that associate in training—who, by the way, needs as much training as Flipper.”
Mike walked up beside her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Was he doing anything... wrong?”
She shook her head slowly from side to side.
“Anything... unethical maybe?”
Again, she shook her head. “But he laughed.” She leaned against a pink marbleized wall and sighed. “He never laughs with me.”
The admission cost her, Mike could tell. She looked up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “And I can’t remember the last time I laughed with him.”