I Waxed My Legs for This? Page 11

  He nibbled on her earlobe.

  “Friends,” he echoed in between bites.

  “Good friends,” she added.

  His lips moved from their in-depth study of her earlobes and Carrie breathed a sigh of relief only to suck it back in as Jack began kissing her neck and shoulders.

  “You were saying?” he asked.

  “Ah...” Carrie couldn’t think.

  “Friends,” he prompted. “Good friends even.”

  “Oh, yes. Good friends. That’s what we are.”

  “I agree,” he said.

  “I’m glad you’re being reasonable.” His lips continued taunting her and now his hands joined in the party, slowly skimming the sheer fabric of her dress. “Uh, Jack, I don’t think this is what most good friends do.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “I think if more friends did this, then their friendships would be better off,” he assured her, as he continued touching her in decidedly not-just-friendly ways.

  “I think this gets in the way of a friendship,” Carrie said, trying to keep her voice even and stem the tide of feelings that were flooding through her body, begging her to reach out and touch him.

  “I think it enhances it.”

  “Seems we’re at a stalemate,” Carrie declared.

  “Seems so,” he said, agreeably.

  “Maybe we should cool this off then?” If they didn’t, Carrie was very much concerned that she might spontaneously combust.

  “That’s one idea,” Jack whispered in her ear. “Another approach might be to heat things up.”

  “Ah, Jack, I don’t think that would be wise. We’re at a retirement party.”

  “I can think of nothing I’d enjoy more than to retire somewhere quieter with you.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Carrie said desperately.

  “What did you mean, Care?”

  “Ah.” Carrie tried to think, tried to remember just what her point was, but she didn’t have a clue.

  “I missed you,” Jack murmured.

  “I’m right here.”

  “Carrie, I—”

  What he was going to say was lost when someone knocked at the door.

  “Who is it?” Jack barked.

  Carrie slapped at his hands and tried to disengage them so she could straighten her dress. “Ah, Jack, we’re in a coatroom. I think maybe whoever is at the door might be more interested in a coat than in us.”

  “Oh.” Despite the fact that they were in the closet, Jack didn’t look very pleased at being disturbed. He pulled his arm, and then stopped abruptly.

  There was another, louder knock on the door and Carrie pushed at Jack’s hand again.

  “Get it out,” she demanded.

  “I’m stuck.”

  “Stuck?”

  “I think my cuff link is caught on your underwear,” he explained.

  Lace panties.

  Carrie groaned. Lace panties were going to be her downfall.

  “Here,” she said, pulling at the panties, which seemed to be glued to Jack’s shirt. The lacy spandex undies just stretched out and gave no indication of loosening their hold.

  “Take the things off,” Jack whispered.

  Another knock.

  What else was there to do? Carrie inched the offending panties down her legs, while Jack, and his arm, followed. As she stepped out of them, he chuckled. When she saw what was at his eye level, what he was staring at, she smacked him. “That will be enough of that.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” he said, a promise of things to come in his voice.

  He stood and tucked his hand, the one with the panties attached, into his pocket as Carrie straightened her dress. The door handle twisted. “Let’s go.”

  Slowly she opened the door. “Oh, I’m so sorry. We were just—”

  “Making out,” Jack supplied.

  Carrie blushed and hit him. “We were looking for my coat, but then I remembered that I didn’t wear one.”

  The man grinned and gave Jack an exaggerated wink. “If I weren’t with a date, I might consider asking you to help look for my coat as well.”

  Carrie didn’t say anything, but stalked down the hall, and didn’t look back to see if Jack followed.

  Actually she hoped he was anywhere but near her.

  What she did hope was that Jack Templeton, attorney-at-law, decided to take a long walk off a very short pier.

  “Carrie, wait up,” he called.

  “No.”

  “Why are you mad?” he said, matching his strides easily to hers.

  Carrie glared at him. Was he insane? He was back with his old girlfriend, but he was making out with her in a coat closet.

  She should simply tell him she knew. She should ask him what he was thinking. But the truth was, she was afraid of his answer.

  He’d said she was brave, but turns out he was wrong.

  “Mad? I’m not mad,” she said.

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “That was simply one of the most embarrassing situations I have ever found myself in, so maybe I’m a bit put out.” She could still feel herself blushing.

  The way she was feeling now, she might never erase the red stains from her cheeks.

  “I hate to disagree,” he said, “but I can’t believe that’s more embarrassing than the time you set the kitchen on fire in home ec?”

  The problem with having the same knight-errant since grade school is that he tended to know every little mishap.

  Even worse, he tended to remember each and every one in vivid detail.

  She sighed. “Well, I’m not doing too bad if you have to go all the way back to high school to find a more embarrassing moment.”

  “Or the time the straps of your bikini broke when you dived off the high board. That was just last year,” he said with a grin.

  “Not as embarrassing at all. I don’t have enough to warrant any ogling.”

  “Oh, there was plenty of ogling. What you’ve got is perfectly proportioned. And how can exposing yourself be less embarrassing than necking with your boyfriend?”

  “Well, you are a boy, and you used to be a friend, but right now you’re not much of one.”

  “Don’t say that,” he snapped, all teasing aside.

  Tears began forming in her eyes. “Why shouldn’t I say it? All night you’ve been going out of your way to show people we’re more than just friends, but you know we can’t be more.”

  She found her courage and said, “There’s Sandy.”

  “Sandy and I are over. We’ve talked this to death. Is that why you’ve got me in this limbo? You’re jealous of Sandy? You think I’m still pining for her? It’s over. How many times do I have to say it?”

  Carrie didn’t believe a word of it. She didn’t know why he was lying, maybe he wasn’t lying to her, as much as lying to himself.

  “You apologized for making love to me.”

  “I only said what I thought you wanted to hear,” he yelled. “The only thing that happened on that island that I’m sorry about was letting you out of my bed.”

  “Sure, that’s what they all say. You just couldn’t wait to get rid of me.” She sniffed, trying to hold back the flow of tears that could easily flood the room.

  “Carrie, I’ve done everything I can think of to let you know how much I enjoyed myself, how much I’d like to see that side of our relationship continue.” He ran his fingers through his hair, a totally uncharacteristic display of annoyance, one that was marred by the fact that Carrie’s white lace panties were still attached to his arm.

  Even worse than that Carrie suddenly became aware of the fact everyone in the room was unnaturally silent.

  Worse still, when she looked up to see why, her eyes met dozens of other sets of eyes.

  “Jack,” she whispered.

  “Don’t argue, Carrie. Sandy and I are history. We’ve been history. You and I, on the other hand, are just beginning. We were good in bed and I think our friendsh
ip has gone beyond going backward.” His hand, done trailing through his hair, was folded along with its panty-less mate in front of his chest.

  “Jack,” Carrie whispered again.

  She now knew for certain the blush that was covering her entire body was probably permanently tattooed in place.

  “Ah, Jack, your arm,” someone from the crowd called.

  Jack looked down and quickly tucked his hand back into his pocket

  Carrie thought she’d been in trouble before, but this...this went beyond trouble. She spied Judge and Mrs. Marsh coming from the coatroom.

  “Pardon me,” she said, rushing from Jack to the couple. “You look like you’re leaving. I know it’s rude to ask, but would you mind dropping me at my place?”

  “We’d be happy to, my dear,” Judge Marsh said.

  Jack grabbed her arm. “Carrie, you’re going home with me and we’re having this out once and for all.”

  She yanked it free. “I am not, I’m going home with the Marshes.”

  “There’s still that little matter that I find myself rather stuck to, to discuss,” he warned.

  “Keep them.” She followed the Marshes, desperately needing to get away from him.

  “Carrie, I want to know what’s going on in that convoluted mind of yours,” Jack called to her.

  “Did you hear what he said?” she said to Mrs. Marsh. “He thinks I’m stupid. He’s always thought I was stupid, but I need to tell you that I’ve always been smarter than him. I’ve let him play white knight for me for years, thinking Mr. I-Need-to-Save-the-World needed to feel needed. When all the time he needed a boot in the butt.”

  “Men need a combination of both, dear,” Mrs. Marsh said knowingly.

  “Well, he’ll have to find a maiden in distress somewhere else. The role was getting sort of old,” she said, talking to Mrs. Marsh and studiously ignoring Jack, who was still trailing after them.

  “I imagine it would after a time,” Mrs. Marsh said sympathetically.

  “Carrie, I’m serious,” Jack said.

  “Call the girl in the morning,” the judge said.

  “Don’t bother,” Carrie said, crawling into the back seat of the car. “Call Sandy. If she chased you to the island, I’m sure she wants to hear from you.”

  She slammed the door and pushed the lock button.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Mrs. Marsh asked as the car pulled away.

  Carrie watched Jack fade into the distance.

  “Fine. Just fine,” she said.

  After giving Judge Marsh her address, she sank into the leather seat and gave in to her melancholy.

  She’d done it this time.

  She’d lost the best friend she’d ever had.

  She sniffed, wishing for one of Jack’s never ending supply of handkerchiefs.

  No, she took that back. She was over Jack Templeton, the underwear-stealing, two-timing, black knight.

  He’d fallen off the pedestal she’d put him on so many years ago.

  He was a mere mortal.

  Worse than that, he was a man.

  Well, Carrie was a woman. An independent, intelligent woman who was definitely over her little case of lust.

  She was relegating hormones to the past and she was going to ignore unwanted spurts of physical attraction.

  She was over Jack Templeton.

  It had taken her a decade, but she was over him.

  She was a woman finally ready to stand on her own two feet.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, dear?” Mrs. Marsh asked.

  “Yes, I’m just fine.”

  And with all her heart, Carrie hoped she hadn’t lied.

  ~~~

  The next morning, the sun was streaming through Encore’s window, mocking Carrie with its brightness.

  She took another slug of her coffee and tried to pretend she was enjoying the brilliant Erie sunshine.

  She took the thought back.

  She wasn’t pretending to enjoy it, she was enjoying it.

  She was going to enjoy the rest of the day and the rest of her life. She didn’t need Jack, the panty-thieving, coatroom-kissing, bane of her existence.

  She didn’t need him.

  The bell above the front door rang, as merrily as the sun shone through the window.

  Disgusted with the lovely weather and the sweet chiming of bells, and most of all, disgusted with herself, Carrie took another quick gulp of coffee to fortify herself. She walked into the main room and pasted her customer-smile on her face.

  “Hello?” she said to an unknown back.

  The gray-haired patron turned and a smile creased her face. “Carrie, I’m here for Jaycee’s dress.”

  Carrie’s business smile was replaced by a genuine one. Mrs. Smith was a good customer, but more than that she was an old friend. “We just finished it this morning, Mrs. Smith.”

  “I wish Jaycee was here,” the older lady worried.

  Not only had Mrs. Smith been a neighbor for years, Carrie knew and really liked Jaycee as well.

  She patted the older woman’s back, trying to reassure her. “We had her measurements and, as long as they were accurate, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “But we’re pressed for time. If I get it to the awards and there’s something wrong with the fit, I’ll never be able to get it fixed in time,” the older lady worried.

  “I’m sorry. I can get one of the forms out so you can see how it hangs on that, if it would reassure you,” Carrie offered.

  She dug through a rack and pulled out the dress Mrs. Smith had come to pick up.

  It was a deep turquoise silk, elegantly simple and one of the best things Carrie had ever designed and made.

  She was so thrilled to sew in the little label that proclaimed A Carrington Rose Original, with a tiny picture of a rose.

  “I don’t know,” Mrs. Smith fretted, stroking the turquoise silk.

  “Mrs. Smith, I made this to the exact measurements Jaycee sent us. It should be perfect.”

  The bell on the door rang again and both women turned.

  Carrie’s professional smile stood her in good stead as she pasted it on her face, as if the person entering was just another customer.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, as blandly businesslike as she could muster.

  “You can explain this,” Jack said, tossing a package on the counter next to Jaycee Smith’s silk.

  “And when you’re done with your explanation, I’ll explain why Sandy was on the island,” Jack said.

  Carrie drew herself up and met his glare with one of her own. “That package should be pretty self-explanatory. You’ve been asking for your jersey back for a long time. I finally got around to having the darned thing cleaned and sent it to you.”

  “Hi, Jack,” Mrs. Smith said.

  Jack had always had a sweet spot for Mrs. Smith. He smiled at her. “It’s good to see you.”

  Then he turned to Carrie and asked, “You couldn’t bring it yourself?”

  “I didn’t think that would be wise. Now, as you can see, I’m with a customer,” Carrie said, praying he’d take the hint.

  She turned her back on him and concentrated on Mrs. Smith.

  “I can wait,” Jack said at the same moment Mrs. Smith said, “That’s fine, dear.”

  Carrie’s smile felt brittle, but she kept it in place. “No, it’s not fine, Mrs. Smith. Here at Encore, we value our customers and personal matters are just that, personal. If you want to talk to me, Jack, you can call me this evening.” She didn’t want to hear his explanations and she didn’t want to offer any of her own.

  “Oh, as long as Mrs. Smith doesn’t mind, I’d rather talk now.” Jack moved back into Carrie’s line of sight.

  Mrs. Smith got a good look at Jack and she beamed. “I don’t mind at all. Jack, how tall are you again?”

  He smiled, his courtly manners in place. “And I’m five foot eleven.”

  Mrs. Smith’s smile grew broader. “I wonder if you’d mind doing a litt
le favor for me while you continue your conversation with our Carrie.”

  Carrie, sensing where the woman was going, jumped in. “Mrs. Smith, I’m sure Jack doesn’t have the time. He’s probably the middle of some very lawyerly business.”

  Jack glared at her and smiled at the older woman. “I’d be happy to help one of my favorite ladies. I’ve had years of practice helping ladies in distress.” He gave Carrie a significant look.

  He was actually throwing her little catastrophes in her face?

  All those years she let him play the gallant and allowed him to be the white knight who rode to her rescue and now he was going to throw it out there as if it was some sort of trial he’d endured?

  Well, he’d tied his own noose. She’d let him hang.

  “Well, if you’re sure you have time to help,” she said, smiling at him sweetly.

  Mrs. Smith beamed. “Oh, I’m so relieved. I don’t have any friends who wear the same size as my Jaycee.”

  “Pardon?” Jack asked.

  The smile on Carrie’s face wasn’t her professional one at all. It was total, utter jubilation. “Just follow us, Jack. Mrs. Smith won’t take up too much of your time.”

  He followed, looking at both women with suspicion in his eyes. “Maybe I should have asked just what the favor was.”

  “Maybe you should have, but you didn’t.”

  Carrie might have pulled Jack into a troublesome situation or two, but he’d done this one all by himself.

  Yep, Carrie was prepared to let him hang.

  As a matter of fact, it looked like she had front row tickets for the hanging.

  “Ah, Mrs. Smith, just what did you want me to help you with?” he asked nervously.

  “You’re just about the same height as my Jaycee, heavier, to be sure, but close enough,” Mrs. Smith said, wearing her pride in her daughter like a garment. “She’s getting an award from Tennessee—she graduated from there, you know and they’re proud she’s playing in the WNBA—this weekend and we ordered this dress weeks ago, but before I take it, I want to see how it’s going to look on.”

  “And she’s coming to the shop now to try it on?” Jack asked. Before she could answer, he hurriedly tried another option. “Her car and yours are both on the fritz and you’d like me to go pick her up?”

  Carrie could hear the hope in his voice and watched it wither away to resignation when Mrs. Smith said, “No, silly. She plays for the New York Liberty and couldn’t afford the time it would take to stop over in Erie just to pick up a dress. I’m meeting her in Tennessee, so I’m picking it up for her.”