I Waxed My Legs for This? Page 5

  “I thought the point was to waste the day,” he said in his infuriating logical way.

  “On the beach. We’re wasting the day on the beach.” Carrie sighed.

  She had her work cut out for her.

  ~~~

  Later that evening, Carrie gazed in the bathroom mirror.

  Doing nothing was more dangerous than anything she could ever have imagined.

  “Carrie, are you ever coming out of there?” Jack called through the locked bathroom door.

  “No.”

  She sat on the edge of the bathtub looking at her pile of clothes on the counter. She couldn’t put them on, and she couldn’t leave the room without them.

  Last night’s nakedness was understandable, but she didn’t plan on making being naked with Jack a habit.

  “It can’t be that bad,” he called.

  She gave a little sniff and grabbed a tissue. As it touched the tip of her nose, she gave up and went back to sniffing.

  “It’s worse,” she called.

  She gazed at the clothes. Pain was preferable to staying in the bathroom for the rest of the trip. She held up a scrap of silk. There was no way she was putting a bra on her sunburned skin, but she slipped the oversize T-shirt on with minimal pain. Maybe there was a reason to be pleased by her lack of endowments. No one would ever know she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Deciding that underwear would be just as uncomfortable, she left her panties next to the bra and gingerly pulled on the soft shorts.

  “Did you use that lotion they gave you at the infirmary?” Jack called.

  “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean sort of?”

  She tried moving and found that the clothes weren’t quite as painful as she had thought they would be. “I couldn’t reach everywhere.”

  “Oh.” Jack paused. “Would you like some help?”

  She cracked open the bathroom door.

  “You’re not even pink,” she accused him as she opened the door all the way.

  “You know I never burn,” he explained.

  “It doesn’t seem right,” she said with another sniff.

  “Come on, give me the lotion.”

  Carrie handed him the bottle and turned around. “I had problems in the center of my back. I could twist and get the top and bottom.”

  She tugged the back of her shirt up with one hand and held the front of the shirt down with the other.

  “Ah...you don’t have a bra on.”

  “Of course not. I might have mishaps now and again, but I don’t set out to torture myself. Do you have any idea how much that strap would cut into me? Getting the shirt and shorts on was hard enough.”

  “Oh.” He squirted a hefty portion of the lotion in his hand and held it a second until it was warm. Carrie almost purred with contentment as his hands gently massaged her tender skin. Slowly his hands spread the lotion over her back, which deadened the abused skin. But it wasn’t the relief that had Carrie sighing.

  It was longing.

  Over the years she’d learned to forget that Jack was her ideal man, but at moments like this, it was hard.

  She felt guilty about the feelings.

  Jack was grieving, working himself to death, and she was lusting.

  Carrie tried not to think those thoughts.

  Every other man she dated was held up to Jack’s standards and every one of them failed to live up to them. She’d wanted Jack back in high school with a teenager’s longing. But as they grew older she forgot her crush and focused on their friendship.

  Except when his hands caressed her back—then she forgot to forget and she began to feel what could only be called desire.

  Darn, why did she do this to herself?

  Why was she torturing herself like this?

  “Thanks,” she said, dropping her oversize T-shirt and taking the bottle. She’d had all she could stand. As she’d told Jack, torturing herself wasn’t something she enjoyed.

  Trying to be cheerful, she asked, “How about a movie tonight? Not only am I sore, but lying around doing nothing is exhausting. We could hit the theater and just hang out.”

  “We could get something on pay-per-view right here in the room,” he countered.

  Carrie stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry in his direction.

  “You really have forgotten how to have fun,” she said sadly. “Is there something about fun in the lawyer oath you took?”

  Jack chuckled. “No.”

  “Well then?”

  “Why is it more fun to go to the theater, than to stay here in the room dear old Ted paid for?” He gave her an intense, searching look.

  If she didn’t know better, Carrie would think he knew about her little scheme, but there was no way he could know, she assured herself.

  “Ah, Jack, I’ve been an inattentive friend. I knew you were losing the ability to enjoy yourself, but I hadn’t realized how old you’d become.” She shook her head dramatically. “Well, I realize it now and before we leave you’re going to remember what having fun really means. I promise you.”

  “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather stay in?” he asked, a sense of resignation in his voice.

  “Come on, Jack. I’m inviting you to a movie, not to an execution. If you’re a good boy, I might even buy you some candy.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Okay, but I’m holding you to the candy.”

  A vision of Jack holding her flitted through her mind. Jack holding her, caressing her...

  Carrie disregarded the thought almost immediately, but not soon enough for a little shiver to climb up her spine. She ignored it, just as she’d been ignoring her feelings for years.

  She’d brought Jack to the resort so he could relax, not so she could satisfy her physical itch. She thought of her back, which had settled to a dull itching, and sighed. She could handle it, after all she had years of experience.

  ~~~

  “I’ve got the tickets,” Carrie called, joining Jack in the snack line.

  “Good. I can’t wait to see Blood and Death,” Jack said, his eyes gleaming with a very predatory look.

  “Ah, Jack, it was my turn to pick the movie.”

  “Was not, you had me watching that sniff and cry-fest two weeks ago on television.”

  “But, that didn’t count. We didn’t go out to see it. The last time we went out to see a movie we saw one of yours.”

  “I can’t remember the last time we went out to a movie,” he said.

  “Well, I can and I remember it was one of yours, so this was my pick.”

  They took a step forward in the line.

  “So what are we watching?” he asked.

  Carrie held the tickets out to him. “We’re going to see that one about the three sisters’ wedding.”

  “Not a comedy. Come on, Carrie. I need blood and guts.”

  “I think the one sister gets in an accident, so there might be some blood.”

  “I’m not talking a nosebleed, I’m talking semiautomatic weapons and explosions. Sweat and testosterone, Carrie. That’s what a real man wants to see in a movie.”

  She shook her head. “Well, next time the pick will be yours and I’ll bear the sweat and testosterone. But for tonight, we’re watching something that will make us laugh and make us cry.”

  “Real men don’t cry,” Jack assured her.

  Carrie just smiled serenely. She knew the truth about Jack Templeton, though it wouldn’t do to admit it. He was man enough not to want his flaws thrown in his face. Carrie didn’t see them as flaws, though. The fact that he’d be the one sniffing, not her, was decidedly cute.

  Not that he’d see it that way.

  “Well, then you have nothing to worry about,” she said. “You can do the laughing and I’ll do the crying.”

  “Can I help you?” the girl at the snack counter asked.

  “We need a big bucket of popcorn...lots of butter. A large cola and I’d like a box of licorice, please.” Carrie finished her order and looked at Jack exp
ectantly.

  “Jujyfruits, too,” he said right on cue.

  The girl turned to gather their order and Carrie reached over and squeezed Jack’s hand.

  “What was that for?” he asked.

  She smiled and thought about Ted, who didn’t know how to order movie food any more than he knew how to order the right restaurant food.

  “Just because,” she said.

  One hour and forty-seven minutes later—popcorn, soda, Jujyfruits and licorice duly consumed— Jack and Carrie walked out of the theater.

  “So, it was better than blood and guts, wasn’t it?” Carrie asked.

  Jack sniffed. It was a suspicious sound he’d been making for the last half hour. “No,” he said gruffly.

  “Liar.”

  “Am not. I like he-man macho films,” Jack assured her.

  “Oh, I’m sure you do. It’s just that you don’t hate funny, sentimental films as much as you’d like the world to believe.”

  “You’re pushing it, Carrie,” Jack said, all sniffing seemed a faint memory.

  “Oh, I’m so scared,” she taunted. She took off down the boardwalk that led to the beach.

  “You should be,” Jack bellowed as he gave chase.

  “You can’t catch me,” she hollered over her shoulder.

  There was no reply, which made Carrie nervous. A blustering Jack she was used to, but a silent one—that was dangerous. She glanced over her shoulder just as Jack scooped her up.

  “Jack,” she shrieked.

  “When you live dangerously, sometimes you have to pay the price,” he said, holding onto her despite her wriggling to get free.

  He laughed as she walloped his back.

  That laughter...that was what had been missing for far too long.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, going along with the game.

  “It’s called getting even.” He splashed into the water.

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “Like this.”

  Carrie was no longer in Jack’s arms, but flying through the air.

  “Jack,” she screamed as she hit the surf.

  The water was warm, but it stung her sun-damaged skin. She came up for air. “Jack.”

  He was standing up to his knees in the water, laughing as she floundered in the surf. Well, two could play at the revenge game. She gave a very convincing shriek and dove down. Swimming a couple of feet under the water, she swam with strong, confident strokes.

  When she’d exhausted her air, she broke the water as quietly as she could and sucked in a deep breath. There he was, no longer standing knee-deep, but up to his waist, calling her name.

  He dived under the water and stealthily Carrie swam behind him.

  He came up and called, “Carrie, where are you?”

  “Right here,” she shouted as she jumped at him, knocking him forward into the water.

  They both came up sputtering.

  “You scared about ten years off my life, Carrie.”

  He had her around the waist and dunked her into the water. She came up sputtering and he continued.

  “Repeat after me, I will not scare Jack ever again.”

  “Never,” she yelled just before she was dunked again.

  “Say it.”

  “No, you deserved it for throwing me into the water.” Down she went again. “Jack,” she screamed as she coughed and laughed. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “You don’t look very sorry,” he grumbled.

  “But I am. Not that you didn’t deserve it,” she added.

  He seemed to be considering her apology and Carrie moved in for the kill. She scooped her right leg behind him and caught the back of his left knee. As it buckled she shoved, knocking him under the water.

  “Threaten me, will you?” she asked as he came up for air, murder in his eyes.

  “You’re walking a fine line here, lady.”

  “Nope, I’m running,” she yelled, moving as fast as the warm ocean water would allow, with Jack right on her heels.

  Chapter Four

  THEY WERE STILL laughing the next night after another day on the beach.

  Jack was remembering to have fun.

  That was the part of himself he had forgotten.

  The part that Sandy had stolen.

  The part that Carrie wanted to help him rediscover—the silly, joyful part.

  It wasn’t just Sandy. For the past few years his cases at Ericson and Roberts had become more and more demanding and he’d put aside the playful part of his personality. Carrie missed it.

  “You really don’t fight fair, do you?” Jack said.

  Carrie grinned. She shoved past him, slammed the bathroom door and clicked the lock in place. “I get the first shower. And to answer your question, no, I don’t fight fair.”

  She could hear him laughing on the other side of the door as she turned the water on.

  She loved when a plan worked out just the way she imagined it would.

  ~~~

  Jack was still smiling while he waited for his turn for a shower.

  This vacation was obviously what he needed.

  That Carrie knew it and that she’d gone to such elaborate lengths to get him here....

  The thought warmed Jack in a way no island sun could.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so...he started to think relaxed, but that wasn’t it exactly.

  He couldn’t get the thoughts of putting the lotion on Carrie’s braless back and the way she looked coming out of the water in the moonlight out of his mind. He’d always regarded Carrie as a buddy, but lately the notion was becoming fainter as he realized that she was a woman—all woman. But, she also wasn’t his woman.

  No, relaxed wasn’t the word he’d use to describe how he felt.

  Alive.

  Yes, alive, that was it.

  He’d spent so much time trying to work things out with Sandy.

  He remembered thinking at one point that love shouldn’t have been so hard. If what they’d felt was real, how could she have been so content to jet around the world for months at a time, or why had he been so content to let her? Why had they kept the relationship unofficial? Why hadn’t they every discussed marriage?

  When Sandy broke her leg, leaving her unable to travel, they both really took a look at the relationship and asked the questions that needed to be asked.

  They had both reached the same conclusion—what they felt for each other wasn’t love, it was comfortable, familiar even, but it wasn’t love.

  He was with a prestigious law firm, doing work that held little interest for him. He belonged to the proper club, moved in the proper circles, behaved in a way that was appropriate for an up-and-coming lawyer. But it was all business.

  It seemed that he’d spent his whole life working toward something.

  In college he’d worked to get into law school.

  In law school he’d worked to pass the bar.

  Then there was getting into the proper firm.

  Then moving up the ladder and achieving partnership.

  Jack was close to that partnership now. Ericson, Roberts, and Templeton. It had a nice ring to it. But he was tired of working toward something. When Sandy left, he’d realized he’d paid a price for his single-minded focus.

  He’d gone into law to make a difference in people’s lives. He’d wanted to right wrongs and rescue the underdog. Instead he’d ended up working on endless contracts.

  Now here he was on an island paradise with his best friend, but things were different between them. Now he just had to figure out what to do about it.

  “Karaoke,” Carrie said firmly.

  “Why on earth would you want to embarrass yourself like that?” Jack asked.

  He wasn’t going to do it, he thought stubbornly. He’d spent a second day doing nothing, but he wasn’t singing in front of strangers.

  He gave in to Carrie’s little whims too often. That was the problem. She didn’t realize that there
were limits.

  Well, there were and tonight they’d reached one. Jack Templeton did not go to karaoke bars—he didn’t drink in them and he certainly didn’t sing in them.

  “You are way too old.” She grimaced sadly.

  Her constant harping about his inability to have fun and his rapid aging was getting old—older than she seemed to think he was. “May I remind you I was born only two years before you were?”

  “There’s old as in age and then there’s old as in spirit. You’ve got one of the oldest spirits I’ve ever met. And we are going to karaoke.”

  “Carrie,” he said. Even he could hear the exasperation in his voice. He was sure that Carrie couldn’t miss it. She’d back down.

  Instead she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, one that would never make it through the evening, Jack knew from experience. She smiled at him and put on some silver earrings. “You can go out in shorts,” she said. “These things are never formal.”

  “Carrington Rose Delany.”

  “Uh-oh. I’m always in trouble when you use my whole name.” She kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you tell me what I did now, while we walk over to the karaoke bar?”

  She slipped her feet into her sandals.

  “I’m not going,” he said.

  She never listened to him. That was the infuriating thing about Carrie. Other people jumped when he said jump, but not Carrie.

  Never Carrie.

  “Okay.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re not going. You just stay here and have a nice quiet evening. You could probably use it, what with the work schedule you carry. A man your age can’t be too careful. I mean, men in their thirties have heart attacks all the time. What with the stress you’re under and the fact that you’re out of shape—”

  “I most certainly am not out of shape,” he growled.

  “Well, I did outrace you. A man in his prime would never have allowed a woman to beat him quite so easily.”

  “You did no such thing. I let you win.”

  She patted his head. “You just make an early night of it. As a matter of fact, you take the bed again tonight. I was quite comfortable on the floor and your old bones need all the comfort they can get.”