Truly Madly Deeply Boxed Set(89)

“Oh, sweetheart.” I could have told you that.

He placed a hand around her waist, ignoring how easily she fit her body to his, how soft and right she felt in his arms, and led her to the oversized pillow on the floor.

Seating himself next to her, Mike took her hand in his. “If you think you’re making a mistake, now’s the time...”

“No!” Carly jerked her hand back and rubbed it against the silk pants. “I didn’t say that. It’s just that with planning the wedding, things have been tense. His work, my work... you know how it is.”

Oh, yeah. He knew. And he had a strange feeling she did, too. So why push so hard for something that wasn’t right? That would only make her unhappy for the next fifty or so years? And why didn’t his intelligent brother, who’d attended college and law school on scholarships, see the truth?

Mike sighed, reminding himself that he’d be back touring the world in no time and Carly’s pain would be a distant memory. Or would it?

“Okay, then. Let’s eat and help you plan. After all, you’ve only got three weeks left until the big day.”

“Later. Right now I just want to relax.” She busied herself loading up two plates with food, setting one down in front of Mike and refilling the champagne glasses.

For the next hour, he amused her with tales about his less than glamorous assignments, some of the more squalid places he’d slept and the interesting people he’d met along the way. Though he hoped the stories would bring back a wave of nostalgia for the life he’d left behind, all he felt was an aching emptiness for all he lacked—and that, more than anything else, made him nervous.

He helped Carly clean up her living room and put the half-full bottle of champagne into the fridge. Since she’d had one glass and he’d shared a fair amount himself, he realized Carly’s earlier fit hadn’t been made while drunk. It had been made while hurt and angry at his insensitive brother. Mike’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.

While she replaced what appeared to be volumes of magazines on top of her cocktail table, Mike indulged his curiosity. He examined the wall of bookshelves, astounded at the number of self-help books crammed into the narrow space. Then he appraised the apartment with a photographer’s eye. Moonlight filtered in through a bay window, catching vibrant colors in its wayward beams. The oversized recliner matched the comfortable sofa and picked up the pale pink shade on the walls.

Organization offset by plush comfort. Everything said touch me. Nothing had the stark, hands-off feeling of Pete’s apartment, a place where Mike slept but had yet to feel at home. That he did here didn’t surprise him. Shook him up some, but what was one more punch in the gut when everything around him seemed to be falling apart?

His career—hell, his life for that matter—was in shambles. This engagement between two polar opposites shouldn’t have any effect on him, yet he cared for both people involved... one of whom he’d known for one week. In three weeks he’d be her brother-in-law.

“Mike?”

Her light touch on his arm startled him. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You seem a little... I don’t know. Out there.”

He smiled. “I’m fine. And you ought to get some sleep.”

She nodded, watching him with those deep brown eyes as he headed for the door. He turned back to find her close behind him. Her scented perfume drifted around him, causing his body to stir in an unbrotherly way. Captured in a sensual haze, he remembered the moment she’d fixed his cummerbund, when her body had jerked against him. His hands had itched to cup her breasts, to pull her close and bury himself deep inside her. If not for the fact that they’d been in a public place, he would have.

No such restraints bound him now... but too many others did. They’d come too damn close. “Hell,” he muttered. He didn’t need this aggravation. Whatever happened to brotherly devotion? To loyalty?

He thought of Pete, who counted on this woman for all the wrong reasons. The only right one was love, something his sibling had instantly discounted. This entire situation was a mess Mike could do without. If he was smart, he’d forget he’d ever met Carly Wexler.

He looked into those bottomless eyes. He could no more forget her than he could fail to respond to the innocence in her gaze. Without conscious thought, he fingered her bangs. The strands felt like fine silk. He bent down and brushed his mouth across hers.

She tasted unique, sweet with a hint of champagne. His lips lingered for a second, pulling back before he lost control. “Take care, Carly.”

Forcing his feet to move, he turned and walked out without looking back.