Created In Fire (Art of Love Series) (24 page)

Dumb—very dumb
, she thought, sighing at the urge.

Jillian would read her the riot act over getting so emotionally involved with a virtual stranger. She already cared more than was wise for a simple one-night stand, which was the reason she answered carefully.

“I’m just going to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute,” Reesa said softly, something breaking loose from her resolve and threatening to escape when she felt his hand tugging gently on hers as he whispered to hurry back.

“Seriously, I just need to use the bathroom,” she said solemnly, laughing and walking away quickly when Shane finally let her go.

Reesa closed the bathroom door between them, did what was needed, and then washed up a little. She brought a trashcan and wet cloth back with her, laughing at the look of shock on Shane’s face.

“What? I’m just returning the favor,” Reesa said, laughing. “I’ll even wash you off if you want. I’m pretty sure I’d enjoy that. You’ve got a lot of territory to explore.”

“I swear I never knew what intimacy was supposed to be until tonight,” Shane told her, dropping the used condom into the trash. After he’d cleaned up, he repeated the process of balling up the cloth and shooting it to the sink.

Reesa laughed again as she lay back down beside him. He was young, strong, and looked as good as any man Jillian or her sister had ever dated. Shane was not her usual type, but he was the kind of man all women wanted and appreciated.

Plus his sexy and fun personality was like finding a cool prize in a box of caramel corn.

“You’ve ruined me for other women,” Shane told her, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone I’ve had sex with before.”

Reesa had to laugh at that comment. She knew the translation for it was that Shane hadn’t had a serious relationship in his life. Her year of living with Brent made her feel much older, but she was still glad she’d picked Shane out of the crowd tonight.

“I doubt the damage is permanent,” Reesa said easily, but inside she was thinking it was nice to believe Shane Larson would remember her because she was easy to like.

“You don’t understand right now, but you will. We’re not having sex next time, Ann. I’m going to make love to you. You’re going to remember everything and look for me in every other man you meet,” Shane vowed, reaching out and cupping her face with a palm that trembled for reasons other than lust.

He’d never wanted a woman to stay before and could already feel her slipping away from him. All his bragging words to his Dad and Michael about not looking for a lasting experience came back to haunt him as he realized what was riding on the next couple hours of his life. She was the one not wanting more than tonight. Shane could tell she wasn’t lying about it and damned himself for knowing. It just made it worse.

“We’re great together, Ann, and I don’t just mean the sex. Save yourself the trouble of searching and just come back to me. You know where I live. You even know my real name.”

“Charming offer, and I won’t say it’s not tempting. However, even though you fit inside of me Shane Larson, you would never fit into my crazy life. But I do think you’re going make some lucky woman very happy one day,” Reesa said, not commenting on the rest.

She would remember Shane, but she would not come looking for him again. That was just not possible right now.

“Well even though I think we have more going on between us, it’s only fair to warn you I’m not above using outstanding sex to make you want more than this one night,” Shane told her.

“What else could you do to me to top what you’ve already done?” Reesa asked him, hoping to lighten the moment.

But when he fell asleep beside her almost two hours later, Reesa quietly snuck out of his house only to end up crying in the taxi all the way home.

She had grieved losing her fiancée, but the wound had healed over in a very short time. Tonight—well tonight leaving a man who was generous in bed and fun to be with was much harder than she’d planned on when she’d picked him up.

Spending a blissful few hours with Shane was the most personally hopeful thing to happen to her in a very long time.

He was flattering, fun, and just a really good guy.

He was also the first reason since Reesa had taken on full custody of all four of her sister’s children that she regretted the demands and limitations of her new life.

Chapter 16

Michael woke to the sound of the toilet flushing and bounded from the bed in a panic. He opened the master bathroom door without knocking and saw a mostly dressed Carrie leaning on the sink.

“Do you mind? I don’t burst in on you in the bathroom,” Carrie said pointedly, not bothering to soften the irritated scowl on her face. Michael Larson didn’t deserve a smile.

She studied her bleary-eyed reflection in the mirror instead of the yogurt-sticky naked guy in the doorway sporting a morning erection rivaling last night’s equally impressive versions. She had done many unspeakable things to and with the naked guy that she just wasn’t ready to think about this morning.

“Are you sick?” Michael asked.

Carrie snorted. “No. The medicine is working or the sickness is passing at last. I don’t care which.”

“Are you sure? You look like hell,” Michael told her, watching fascinated as fire and fury leapt into her gaze as she scanned him.

“That’s because some sex crazed maniac kept me up half the night after I’d literally worked my ass off all day and half the evening selling art. I didn’t get enough sleep, but now I’m too starved to stay in bed any longer. I’m going to brush my teeth and look for breakfast,” Carrie said morosely.

Michael laughed. She looked like she felt really awful, but he couldn’t help being happy it was his fault. He was going to have to do better, much better, at taking care of her. It was really hard to think about what better entailed when all he wanted this morning was more yogurt bars and the chance to do last night all over again.

She’d tasted—no, he had to stop thinking about that and take care of her.

“What time is it?” he asked, going back to the bedroom while Carrie brushed her teeth. Then he reappeared. “Wow. It’s almost nine. No wonder you’re hungry. How about banana walnut pancakes?”

“Sounds good,” she said agreeably, rinsing and hanging up her toothbrush.

“Good. Dad and Shane should be here anytime. I forgot to tell you about our Saturday pancake breakfast ritual. I guess Jessica will be coming now. Dad makes the pancakes,” he said.

Carrie glared in disbelief at Michael’s innocent gaze resting on her. “Really? Company is coming this morning? Thanks for the damn advanced warning, Michael. You can’t seriously expect me to be civil and make small talk when I want to kill you.”

“Why are you so mad this morning? Last night was good for you, wasn’t it?” Michael asked, crowding into the bathroom with her, worrying that maybe it hadn’t been as great for her as it had been for him.

“I barely remember last night. It’s all a blur. Maybe some of us need more than four hours sleep to remember things,” Carrie said to his reflection standing behind her. “
And would you please put some clothes on?
”

“Why? Am I tempting you?” Michael asked, grinning at her in the mirror.

“Only to change your singing position,” Carrie told him, glaring back.

Laughing, Michael turned his cranky spitfire around to fasten his mouth to hers, tasting the peppermint toothpaste as he pressed against her.

Fire
, he thought, the heat of her mouth arousing him instantly.

He heard the doorbell ring and acknowledged the warning shot. Thank God they didn’t just use their keys. They had stopped doing that when Carrie moved in with him.

“Could you let everyone in while I shower, and maybe do it without scowling?” he asked, his lips still hovering over hers.

Carrie took one hand and pushed a still naked Michael hard against the bathroom wall, enjoying the snapping of his head against plaster and the sound it made as it hit.

“Ouch. . .time to paint the master suite a calming sky blue,” Michael said softly, not missing the twitch of her lips.

When she swore at him, he answered “later baby” as he watched her storm out.

*** *** ***

When a showered and swaggering Michael came down the hall twenty minutes later, he was welcomed by the smell of pancakes. Carrie stood by his father’s shoulder shoving handfuls of dry cereal into her mouth, and sipping from a glass of milk on the counter.

Jessica was out on the patio looking at his new art piece like a mechanic going over a car to check it out.

Carrie turned to look at him, still snarling as she ate more cereal.

“Shane not here yet?” he asked, ignoring the fire in Carrie’s eyes this time.

“Haven’t heard the bike, but he might be in his car this morning,” Will said, looking between Michael and Carrie. “Can you two hold off killing each other until after breakfast?”

Carrie snorted at Will’s side. “You’re a lot smarter than your son. He’s lucky to be alive today.”

“Older. Experienced. That’s why I gave you cereal and milk,” Will said. “What did he do, not feed you last night?”

Carrie wasn’t used to men taking up for her. Throat tight, she put the cereal box on the counter and her arms around Will to hug. She felt his chest rumbling under her arms and sighed.

“Your son kept bugging me and wouldn’t let me sleep,” she said plaintively.

Will laughed and patted her. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ll have a talk with him later.”

“Hey. Where’s my hug this morning?” Michael asked, torn between happiness and ridiculous jealousy of his father.

“You get nothing but grief until I’ve had a decent nap,” Carrie said, picking up her milk and drinking.

When the doorbell rang, Michael rolled his eyes over her answer and turned to go answer it. It was Shane looking as haggard and cranky as Carrie.

“Good morning to you too,” Michael said cheerily. “Party too hard last night?”

“Don’t make me hurt you. I only got about three hours sleep. I woke up at five and she was gone. I have no damn idea where to even start looking. She lied to me about who she was. Shit—I hate this,” Shane said, stomping by Michael and going into the kitchen.

Carrie looked at Shane warily. “Are you mad at Michael too?”

Shane poured himself coffee. “No. I’m just mad. Want me to beat him up for you? I’m sleep-deprived and looking for a fight.”

“Me too,” Carrie said, looking at Michael and narrowing her eyes. “That’s so tempting. I’m wondering it if would be as satisfying if all I get to do is watch.”

“It won’t,” Shane said reasonably. “But it would make me feel better.”

“Want some dry cereal?” Carrie asked, holding out the box.

Shane shoved his hand in and pulled out a handful. He crammed it in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and chased it with coffee. “Last night was the most wonderful night of my life, but she left me anyway. Since she lied about who she was, I don’t even know how to find her to tell her she’s being stupid.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Michael asked, confusion making the demand sharp.

Jessica slid open the patio door and came back inside before Shane could respond.

“Michael—that new piece is amazing,” she said.

“
Understanding At Last
,” Carrie told her. “That’s its name.”

“There’s something different about that piece,” Jessica began. “Your art is changing, Michael.”

“Probably because I’m changing,” Michael said, wishing he could freeze this moment and make it last. To have the admiration of the two people who best appreciated his art was his new definition of happiness.

He looked at his brother, who refilled his coffee cup and stalked to the long kitchen table to sit. Shane looked worse in ways than Carrie did this morning. He looked—unsettled, Michael thought. Shane was never not calm.

“Shane? I’m paying attention now. What happened last night?” Michael demanded, shifting the attention of everyone in the room to his brother.

Shane looked at his Dad and Jessica and then at Michael and Carrie. He wanted this. He wanted this with
her
. If she’d stayed, he’d have brought her to meet them this morning. Maybe. If they’d been able to let each other out of bed.

He closed his eyes, shook his shaggy hair, and sent out a prayer into the universe. When he opened his eyes, his gaze was on Michael, who still looked concerned.

It gave him one idea about something he could do.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his checkbook, whipping his art pen from his front pocket. Karma, he decided. He would set his intent by conceding his pride.

“Here,” Shane said, handing the check he had written to Michael.

“What’s this for?” Michael asked, confused as he looked at the check. “Oh hell, Shane. I was only joking about that bet. You don’t really owe me a thousand dollars.”

“Yes. Yes I do, Michael. I fell in love last night,” Shane announced, thinking—
there, I’ve said out loud now and made it real
. “She’s five feet tall. And she’s exactly what you cursed me with finding.”