Coming Undone. Stephanie Tyler
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lived in Florida and managed not to get a tan had always been a mystery to Carly, who only had to think about sun before her skin turned golden brown.
Her mother was already investigating dermabrasion and face lifts for her daughter.
“I’m still in the room,” Carly reminded them, dishing herself another helping of the complicated Shrimp Risotto she’d ordered from the gourmet restaurant in town. Cooking had never been her forte, and she’d lived in and out of hotel rooms and rental houses so often that she’d never had the time nor the inclination to learn to cook.
“Honestly, she’s impossible.” Her mother ran a hand over her own blond hair pulled back in a chic twist.
Carly ran a hand through her mess of blond locks that tumbled loosely around her shoulders. As far from a beauty queen as you could get. Thank goodness her sister had taken on that role willingly, or Carly’s teen years would’ve truly been a nightmare.
“I don’t understand the problem, Carolyn,” her father said. He was a good match for her mother, still handsome with streaks of silver feathering his dark hair. “You two always enjoyed being together.”
“When we were twelve. And it was more of a forced being together, since we were the only two kids of the same age on the yacht,” she pointed out.
“We’ve always talked about the two of you becoming a couple, honey,” her mother tried again in her best I’m-trying-to-be-patient-with-you voice. “It seems so right. You’re single, he’s single…”
Carly sighed, fighting the urge to lie on the floor in the middle of her kitchen and throw a good, old-fashioned temper tantrum. She was a mature, independent and successful woman who happened to be single, but she felt anything but mature right now. Her parents’ nagging about dating always seemed to bring out the worst in her, and she’d promised herself their comments wouldn’t get to her tonight.
A pairing between Carly and Evan Tremont III was always the family joke, since their parents were best friends. She’d run into Evan maybe three times over the past five years, and none of those events had been memorable. Obviously, both families thought that attending a wedding together might spark some ideas. Evan had no problem with this theory, and no backbone, either, since he’d sent her an e-mail offering to be her date. He’d apologized for being out of the country and unable to ask her in person, but knew they’d have a nice time.
A nice time. Not a great time, an awesome time, a killer-wicked time, not even a good time, but a nice time.
Ultra-formal, ultra-stuffy and ultra-boring. Carly could not live her life like that at all. Evan needed a healthy dose of Candy Valentine and then some.
Evan would’ve been perfect for Nicole, but her sister always managed to find her own suitably wealthy men their parents approved of. The man she was set to marry in two weeks’ time was no exception.
“We’re only trying to help, honey. It’s been a long time since we’ve heard about you dating anyone,” her mother spoke up.
“I go on dates,” Carly insisted. “I didn’t realize I had to file a report every time I went out with someone.”
She’d had exactly two dates since she’d been back. One was a double date with Samantha and Joe and one of Joe’s friends, an experience she’d never repeat. The other was a blind date, the son of someone she knew from the magazine. A total and complete disaster. She’d find her own dates from now on.
“We think you need to start doing something serious with your life, some settling down,” her mother continued.
“I was doing something serious. I had a career, remember?”
Her mother rolled her eyes as though she’d sooner forget and her father patted her hand. “Yes, sweetie, but it was time for you to give that up. There’s important charity work for you to do in the family’s name. People are counting on you.”
Inwardly she cringed at the thought of her entire career being so easily dismissed even though she should be used to it by now. Besides, in surfing, you were only as good as your last ride.
“And I spoke to a plastic surgeon. He said he could remove that with no problem.” Her mother pointed to the small tattoo of a shark Carly had on her right ankle as though it were a disease spreading over her daughter’s body. “I’m sure he could do something about those, too.” This time, her mother pointed to the constant reminders of the accident on Carly’s thigh and knee, then waved her hand around, as though making it all disappear.
“I’m not seeing a plastic surgeon. The scars stay. And so does the tattoo.” She didn’t bother to use the plural. Her mother would never find out about the other one, anyway.
“She’s always been so stubborn, Carl.” Her mother shook her head and her father sighed.
“Maybe if you gave Evan another chance,” her father began. “Nicole doesn’t want you dateless at her wedding.”
In actuality, she didn’t give a flying crap what her perfect younger sister, and former Miss Florida, wanted, but Carly’s next words came as much of a surprise to her as they did to her parents. “I’m already seeing someone.”
The declaration stopped her parents short and Carly gave herself a mental pat on the back. The technique that had proven successful in several top-grossing movies was obviously as effective in real life.
Time to watch those films again to figure out exactly how these women found their made-up boyfriends.
“You said you were dating, but you didn’t mention anyone serious, Carolyn. Why haven’t we met this mystery man?” her mother asked.
She’d been thinking the same thing. “He’s been away. Traveling. I was going to introduce you at the wedding.” The overactive imagination was good for a lot of things, including making up men in her life. And the traveling excuse came naturally, since she’d done it often for her own career. Why hadn’t she thought of this before?
“Why not bring him to the rehearsal dinner?” her mother asked.
Yes. That was why.
“Or, better yet, the party we’re throwing this weekend?” her father suggested.
Sure. She’d get right on that magic voodoo doll and conjure herself up a man. At least, her parents had stopped mentioning Evan.
The phone rang, saving her momentarily.
Sam’s number flashed on the cell phone’s screen. “Hey,” Carly whispered, “parents are here.” She leaned her back against the cool, white stucco wall in her front hallway.
“Is it as bad as we thought?”
“Worse. Remind me to tell you about the trouble I’ve created for myself.” She heard her parents move into the living room and she made a dash into the now deserted kitchen to start the strong coffee she knew she was going to need.
Sam groaned. “With your imagination, I can only imagine. And I don’t mean to bug you, but Joe’s coming over tonight and I really wanted to give him that letter.”
“It should be easy for you to finish it off. Didn’t you like what I wrote?” Carly asked as she crumbled coconut onto the white icing of the cake she’d baked earlier from a box mix. Coconut therapy, she’d joked to herself when she’d made it, and she’d used an extra thick layer of frosting to hide the lopsidedness.
“I’m sure I will, once you send it.”
A slight chill went through her at Sam’s words. “I sent it hours ago. It went through, because I got the confirmation.”
“It didn’t come through here,” Samantha said quickly. “Can you resend it?”
Resending it was not the most immediate problem. That fax contained some erotic stuff, and whoever got it would most certainly be in for a thrill.
“Sam,”