The Best Of Both Worlds. Elissa Ambrose
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At the ceremony Becky had worn a long-sleeved jacket that matched her rose-colored gown. Her quiet elegance and regal beauty had taken his breath away. He couldn’t pull his gaze from her, even when Hannah had walked down the aisle.
After the ceremony Becky had discarded the jacket, and he felt as though he’d been hit with a freight train. This was David’s kid sister? The jacket, outlined in sparkly beads, must have been buttoned up right to her chin, because he sure as hell would never have missed the plunging neckline on that dress. Narrow rhinestone straps barely held up the satiny folds that caressed her full breasts, and more sparkles curved at her waist, the fabric falling into soft pleats across her hips. When she turned away to shake some other lucky guy’s hand, Carter almost moaned. Her dark hair cascaded in ringlets down toward her tiny waist, curling against the rhinestone strands that crisscrossed her naked back.
He’d been entranced, no use denying it.
Not that he’d planned to do anything about it. Becky might be single again, but she was still David’s sister. And she wasn’t someone whose name belonged in a little black book. He knew he’d have to keep his distance.
As it turned out, he saw her only for brief moments during the reception. He wasn’t disappointed, he told himself. Nope, not in the least. He was feeling sorry for himself because he felt so out of place. The guest list had been enormous, but the only people he knew were Becky’s immediate family and a few of David’s friends. He wanted to leave, but as best man he knew he was expected to stay. So he chatted, danced and shook hands with strangers—with an eye out for Becky. When the musicians finally stopped playing and packed up their instruments, he sighed with relief. Now he could go.
He saw her at the doors in the foyer. He hadn’t meant to startle her, but she’d been so preoccupied, she obviously hadn’t seen him coming. “You shouldn’t sneak up on someone that way,” she reproached him.
“Is there any other way to sneak up on a person?” he returned, trying to disguise his discomfort with humor. She wasn’t the only one who’d been caught by surprise. Feelings he’d suppressed for years had suddenly resurfaced—and he didn’t like it. Didn’t like it one bit. He pushed his unease aside. “So why the glum face?”
“I’m not glum. I’m gaining a sister, aren’t I? Add one sister, subtract one husband. It’s an even trade. Me, glum? I’m having a wonderful time, can’t you tell?” She twirled around, layers of skirt swirling at her feet. Losing her balance, she fell against him.
“Whoa, I think the lady needs a shot of caffeine. What do you say? There must be someplace open at this hour.”
“This is Middlewood, remember? Not even Merlin’s Diner stays open, not that I’d suggest we go there. I’m not that cruel.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “But I’m not ready to go home,” she said, her voice suddenly quiet. “I can’t…I just can’t…”
“Rumor has it that I make a mean cup of coffee,” he offered. “How about my place?”
She drew back and smoothed the wrinkles on the shoulder of his jacket. “I’m sorry, Carter. I’m making a mess of your tux—and I’m making a spectacle of myself.” She looked up at him with large, dark eyes. “Maybe I will take you up on that coffee.”
Snuggling close to him on the drive to his apartment, she murmured, “Have I mentioned that I think you’re sweet?”
Sweet? He’d been called a lot of things by a lot of women, but he couldn’t remember sweet being one of them. And at that moment sweet wasn’t how he was feeling. With Becky nestled beside him, the alluring aroma of her perfume was scrambling all his senses. He had to struggle to keep from slamming on the brakes and taking her in his arms.
In the elevator going up from the parking garage to his fourth-floor apartment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and said, “Maybe there’ll be a power failure. Maybe the doors won’t open and we’ll be stuck in here for hours. This way you won’t be able to leave—I hate when people leave. This way I’ll have you under my control.”
Gently he disengaged her arms. With all the willpower he could muster, he said, “This isn’t what you want, Becky. You’re feeling low and you’ve had too much to drink.”
“Why, Carter Prescott,” she said, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “What could you be thinking? I should tell you that the only way I’ll ever consider going to bed with you is if there’s this terrible snowstorm—”
“I guess I’m out of luck,” he said as the doors to the elevator opened. “It doesn’t look like it’s going to snow anytime soon.”
She turned to him, her eyes shining with sudden lucidity. “I’m not drunk,” she said softly. “I admit I’ve had a little too much champagne, but I know exactly what I’m doing. My whole life has just gone down the drain, and at the moment I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Right now is all I have. And right now,” she said, running her fingers along his arm, “I’m pretending that it’s the middle of winter….”
Now, three months later, he was the one pretending. Pretending that what had happened between them had meant nothing at all. It was ironic, he thought as he plowed his way back to his apartment. He was the one who usually gave that speech about not wanting to think about tomorrow.
I hope you don’t think this means anything.
He turned onto Elm and his heart stopped beating. Becky. There she was, on the corner. He tried to follow her, but visibility was poor. By the time he reached the place where he had seen her, she had vanished.
He must have been mistaken. What would Becky be doing out on a night like this? But then again, where she was concerned, he’d learned to expect the unexpected.
A car turned onto the street, and for a moment she thought it was Carter’s. But in the blowing snow she couldn’t be sure. She rounded the corner and found herself outside the bed and breakfast where she’d stopped earlier that day. The ad for an assistant cook was still in the window.
She walked up the pathway, past the Douglas fir with the twinkling lights and silver streamers. Once again she hesitated, but this time she didn’t turn back. Not my world, she thought, but a job is a job. She picked up the brass knocker and banged on the door, then waited for her life to change.
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