"Here's one level. You're a free agent. We didn't agree, or even discuss, exclusivity."
"I assumed it was understood. We're sleeping together. Whatever the boundaries you may want, I'm with you. Only you. I expect the same. If that makes me traditional and priggish, it can't be helped."
She turned back to him. "Priggish. Not a term you hear every day. And it doesn't, Carter. It doesn't make you priggish. It makes you decent. I'm trying to tell you that, on one level, I had absolutely no right to be upset. But that level is mostly bullshit. The other level is we had a disagreement, and when I came over to try to work it out with you, you were with her."
"I wasn't with her. She was there."
"She was there. You were pouring her wine. You gave her my wine."
"I didn't give her your wine."
"Well, that's something."
"I didn't give her any wine. There was no wine involved. I told her she had to go. I made her cry." Remembering, he rubbed the back of his neck. "I sent her away in tears, and you wouldn't answer your phone. If you'd only waited, if you'd come in, given me a chance-"
"You made polite introductions."
He stopped, frowned at her. "I . . . yes."
"I nearly beat you to death with the damn bottle of wine for that. Oh, hello, Mac, this is the woman I lived with for nearly a damn year who I'm so careful to tell you as little as possible about. And she's standing there with her cleavage and perfect hair purring to you about pouring her a nice glass of the wine the idiot brought over."
"I-"
"Not to mention the fact that we'd already met just a couple hours before in the shoe department at Nordstrom."
"Who? What? When?"
"Your mutual friend what's-her-name already made the introductions while she and your ex were in my shoe department during my shoe therapy session."
Even the thought of it had Mac hitting the red zone. "And her with her damn red peep-toe pumps and single sarcastically lifted eyebrow as she checks me out. And smirks." She jabbed a finger at him. "Smirks with her perfectly sculpted lips. But I let it go, screw her and her attitude. I was going to buy my fabulous blue boots, and the adorable silver slingbacks, a really good bottle of wine to take to your place-after I stopped by the MAC counter for a new eyeliner, and got buffed up a little because I wanted to look good when I went to see you. Especially after I got a load of her. Then there was this great DKNY jacket, and cashmere was on sale. Which is why I'm going Zen. Well, that's partially because of the tow truck and emotional turmoil, but that's the root of it."
Shell-shocked, Carter let out a long breath. "I've changed my mind. Could I have a glass of wine?"
"And I don't know how you could think for one minute that I'd stick around," she continued as she reached for a wineglass. "What? You expect me to go head-to-head with her. Have a slugfest?"
"No, that was Bob."
"If you'd had possession of the single brain men seem to pass around among them, you'd have introduced me to her-as the woman you're involved with. Not like I was just some delivery girl."
"You're absolutely right. I mishandled it. My only excuse is I was completely out of my depth. Everything was confused and inexplicable, and I'd burned the grilled cheese sandwich."
"You made her a sandwich?"
"No. No. I made myself a sandwich. Or I was making one when she came over, and I forgot I had the pan on the stove because she . . ." As it occurred to him mentioning what happened between Corrine's arrival and the burned sandwich wasn't a particularly good idea, he took a long drink of wine. "Interrupted. In any case, do I understand you ran into Corrine and Stephanie Gorden while you were shopping?"
"That's what I said."
"Somewhere in there," he mumbled. "I see. That certainly explains . . ." Boggy ground again, he realized. "Can I just say, bottom line, I didn't want her there. I wanted you. I want you. I'm in love with you."
"Don't pull out the love area when I'm having a crisis. Do you want to make me more crazed?"
"Is that actually possible? But no, I really don't."
"She had on seduction wear."
"I'm sorry? What?"
"Don't think I don't know why she 'dropped by.' She takes a look at me and thinks, pfft, as if I can't outgun that one, puts on the seduction wear and comes over. She came on to you, don't deny it."
His shoulders wanted to hunch. He had to make a genuine and physical effort to straighten them. "I was making a sandwich. Doesn't that count for anything? I was making a sandwich and thinking about you. How could I possibly expect or prepare for her to come over and kiss me?"