Created In Fire (Art of Love Series) (19 page)

“Yes. I’ve been slaying dragons,” Carrie said, knowing Jessica wouldn’t understand or ask.

“Bitch of a job,” Jessica said firmly, relieved to hear the younger woman snort in derision. “I thought Michael said the nausea was much better.”

“It has been,” Carrie said, irony heavy in her voice, “until just now. This is the first time I’ve been sick this week.”

Sick in love, she admitted. Sick in the head for never getting over a guy who’s slept with more women than any other man I’ve ever met.

“This makes me glad I only had one child,” Jessica said, shaking her head.

“Did you come to the show?” Carrie asked

Jessica nodded. “Mostly for you because Michael invited us. However, Lana was also one of my first students. I’ve been loosely following her artistic career. The show looks like it’s going to be wonderful. I hope she sells it all.”

“Lana is very talented,” Carrie said. “So are you. I looked up your first work, and Michael showed me
Blue Haze
. Ever thought about putting your work in a gallery? You could make prints of the rape art. They would sell, unless you think that’s too grotesque.”

“No—I know there is a demand for all kind of expressions,” Jessica said, her tone level and sure. “It’s just that I won’t have much time for art until I retire. I came straight here from school today. Will and I are headed to Victorian Square for dinner. Got time to join us?”

Carrie shook her head. “No—but thanks. Food court is all I’ve got time for, and I don’t want to be far away from the showing.”

“Okay. Maybe we can get you something before we leave,” Jessica told her.

“I’d kill for a cola on ice right now,” Carrie said easily. “It helps everything. And maybe I can get another pill down before the art show turns into a puking marathon for me.”

Jessica laughed. “I know it’s maddening, but the sickness does pass eventually. Most mothers go through this.”

“So I hear. Got an exact date when I will miraculously feel better? I’m going to need therapy to get rid of all the resentment I have about how sick this child has made me,” Carrie admittedly quietly.

“I can recommend an excellent therapist. She’ll have that resentment whipped out of you in no time,” Jessica said, laughing.

“You have a therapist?” Carrie asked, surprised that Jessica so easily mentioned it.

“Honey, I’ve had a therapist for over thirty years. How do you think I’ve survived?” Jessica said on a laugh. “Nothing wrong with getting help when you need it. Want her name and number?”

Carrie thought about all she’d endured lately. “Does it take long to get cured?”

“Only as long as you stubbornly resist doing what it takes to fix your issues,” Jessica said sincerely. “Do not look at my experience as the norm. I’m very stubborn and have a bad temper.”

That made Carrie laugh because it sounded just like her. “Gee, I’ve always been so even-tempered and malleable myself. It shouldn’t take more than fifty years to fix me.”

Jessica laughed. “Whatever you do, don’t talk to Shane. Not that he isn’t wonderful, but you’ll end up with a chapter in his book.”

“I don’t mind,” Carrie said laughing, pushing up from the couch. “I’ll just sue him and use my winnings to open my own art gallery.”

“Well, that’s interesting. I never thought about suing. I’ll split the lawyer’s fee with you to get half an art gallery,” Jessica said.

“Deal,” Carrie said. “I offered the same to Michael, but he insists killing his brother is the only answer. I say that’s a waste of profit.”

Jessica laughed as they walked out. They found Shane leaning beside the bathroom door, a fountain drink with ice in his hand.

“Hey, sick lady, who’s your hero now? I bought you something,” he said, handing the drink to Carrie, who sighed as she took it and drank gratefully. Her stomach eased immediately.

“Wow—that’s good,” Carrie said, making Jessica snicker beside her. “Sorry, there goes our gallery, Jessica. How did you know I was sick, Shane?”

“Michael guessed from a description someone gave him about you. He’s helping her set up for the show. I think he knows her,” Shane said.

Carrie nodded. “He knows her. They’re both clients of mine. If they bump egos over anything, that’s all I’ll need to complete the day from hell.”

They walked back to the show room together. Michael stopped talking to Lana and came straight to Carrie.

“Too much stress. I’m fine now,” Carrie told him, putting a hand to his chest to keep him from hugging her.

If he hugged her, she would cry. If she cried, she was going to blurt out the truth.

“Thanks for sending Shane with the soda.”

Michael stepped back and put his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her.

Lana walked up and looked at Carrie. “That wasn’t from stress. You feed on stress like a monster from a sci-fi movie. You aren’t seriously sick are you?”

“I’m—” Carrie looked at Michael, who was waiting to see what she said.

Screw it, Carrie decided. It’s going to be obvious in a couple months anyway.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, turning from Michael to Lana.

Lana clapped her hands and threw her arms around an embarrassed Carrie. “No wonder you looked so bad. Are you going to make it tonight? I think Michael and I got the rest of the art hung up.”

“So I see,” Carrie said, easing away. “Yes. I’m much better now. Illness comes in waves, and this one has passed. Let me check with everyone else and see if we’re good to go. I don’t see our money taker yet. This would be a good time for you take a dinner break if you want one.”

“Dinner? Food would make me ill, but I need a double shot of something extremely alcoholic to take the edge off,” Lana said, bringing her hand to her nervous stomach. “My sister is coming by in a few minutes.”

Carrie nodded. She looked at Michael. “You want to hang around and keep me company while I do a few last minute things? Or were you going to dinner with your Dad and Jessica?”

“I thought I might run and pick us up some food later, once you’re up to eating,” Michael said easily, still amazed that she’d told Lana the truth, and in front of him.

“That sounds good to me. Can I ask you to get me a pill out of my purse? It’s under the cashier table in a box. I buried it at the bottom.” Carrie hadn’t finished speaking before Michael headed off to do as she asked.

“I thought you said he was difficult to live with. He’s being such a sweetie. Is he always so cooperative?” Lana asked.

Carrie laughed.
Cooperative?
Not a word that she would have used to describe Michael Larson.

“No. He’s just a very supportive expectant father. He’s going to make the best one in the world. If you knew his father, you’d understand why. William Larson has evidently been a great role model,” Carrie said.

“Interesting family. Is his brother seeing anyone?” Lana asked, snickering at Carrie’s raised eyebrows.

“Shane is even worse about women than Michael. You might want to look for someone a little less intense. Artists are
not
easy men,” Carrie said, snorting at Lana’s disappointment. “Fine, if you want to date a confessed player, I’ll introduce you to Shane when you get back from dinner.”

Michael came back with the medicine and handed it to Carrie. “I’m going to talk to Dad for a few minutes.” He walked off when his father walked in and straight to Jessica.

Carrie thought Will looked as big and broad as Shane in his boots that matched Jessica’s. They were such a striking couple standing close together with their height that people couldn’t help staring at them.

She laughed at Shane standing in the trio, looking like a sexy, shaggy dog that belonged to family.

Michael walked up to the group, looking like a French poet in dress clothes and long dark ponytail. He stood out everywhere.

“Michael might not be easy, but he sure looks like he’s worth the trouble,” Lana said. “If you don’t mind my saying so.”

Carrie looked at Lana surprised. She’d been so caught up in looking at Michael and his family, she’d forgotten her client was still there.

“Hard to mind someone speaking the truth,” Carrie said, running a hand through her hair.

“There’s my sister. Got to run. Be back at seven.” Lana threw her arms around Carrie again. “Thank you so much for all this work. Seeing it here is as good as any sale we’ll make. The validation of just feeling like a real artist is amazing.”

Carrie nodded. “Good. That’s the best feeling. But we will make some sales. I have interested people coming by. Have a good dinner. Come back fashionably late.”

Lana looked confused.

“Fifteen minutes late,” Carrie said, grinning. “It makes you seem very casual about sales. Trust me—it works.”

Lana gave a thumbs-up and walked away.

Carrie looked over at Michael’s family. No one in her family had ever asked to attend one of her showings. Yet here was all of Michael’s family. Well, except Ellen, but that was just the way it was, and it was accepted.

She hadn’t asked any of his family to come tonight. Michael must have spread the word and they just came.

It was like Shane showing up with the drink she needed.

Helping each other—and now her—was just as natural as anything else they did. Carrie found herself wondering how it would feel to know they would be there time after time for her. It had tears rolling through her again.

From across the room, Michael saw her face and walked back to her. She might not want to love him, but he was sure making her feel cared for as much as anyone ever had. This time she didn’t try to stop him from hugging her. She simply buried herself in his arms.

“Hormones,” she said, sniffling against his pristine shirt, feeling him laugh against her.

“Well, don’t waste your hormones here,” Michael whispered fiercely, laughing into her hair. “Save them for home. I changed the sheets on the bed.”

Laughter broke through Carrie’s concerns, and it was like the sun coming out from behind a bunch of dark clouds. His sense of humor fit hers perfectly, and it only made her laugh more that they were both a little warped.

“God help me. I’m really starting to like you, Michael Larson,” she told him, tears drying up instantly.

“Good,” Michael said, squeezing hard once and letting her go. Hearing it was a wondrous thing. “What do you want to eat now?”

“The least spicy grilled chicken sandwich you can find, and another cola with lots of ice,” Carrie said.

When he leaned down to kiss her, she let him. It was the first affection she’d allowed him in public. His lips fit hers perfectly, managing to be both hot and chaste at the same time.

Carrie watched Michael walk away to the food court and wondered what it would take for her to ever believe that man could really be hers. Then she wondered if she did think of him as hers, would she ever be able to think of him as
all
hers.

Given the sinking sensation in her stomach and her many memories of seeing Michael with other women, she didn’t think she had any chance of getting to that point in this lifetime. She hadn’t believed in the faithfulness of men since she heard her mother and father arguing about her father’s cheating when she was in high school.

If her father—the saintliest man she knew—could cheat, any man could. Michael? He wasn’t even going against his programming.

But it wasn’t like her not to try to fix what was broken when she’d been shown a potential solution. Her gaze moved to Will and Jessica. She caught Jessica’s eye and waved her over.

“I think I would like the name of your therapist and a promise from you not to tell Michael I asked for it,” Carrie said to her.

Jessica reached into her hip pocket for a battered wallet she kept there.

“I’m part man,” she said to a laughing Carrie. “Fortunately, Will likes me like I am. I hate carrying a purse. Here.”

She handed Carrie a well-worn business card. “I have her on speed dial in my phone. You’re going to like her. She’s beautiful as well as very, very compassionate.”

“Thank you,” Carrie said, tucking the card in her bra. “My purse is buried.”

“I store things in places that would make you blush. I file things out of my underwear every night. Oh—by the way, the sky blue color in the baby’s room turned out wonderful. Will finished it today. He sent me a picture with his new phone. I think you’re going to like it,” Jessica said, bending down to hug her. “Be good to yourself, honey.”

Carrie basked in the older woman’s niceness until Jessica pulled away and walked back to her new family.

Then Carrie turned her attention back to what had to be done.

Chapter 14

The music in club was nothing more than an annoying drumbeat that assaulted Shane’s artistic mind, especially after going to the sedate art show with Michael and Carrie earlier.

In fact, he could still be there and be having a late dinner with the cute painter if his mind had been on female companionship. Unfortunately, it was still trying to focus on his nameless, faceless heroine.