Created In Fire (Art of Love Series) (4 page)

Full out angry now, Carrie reached behind Michael and wrapped a hand in his long, loose hair, using it to pull his head back while she stared fiercely into his face.

“You’ve had all of me you will ever have, Michael Larson,” she vowed, eyes flashing as she yanked down hard to emphasize her point.

Michael felt desire heating his blood as he resisted Carrie’s tugging, and he welcomed the fire it was building. This woman called up emotions in him that no one else ever had. Not all of them were reasonable, but it was impossible to be calm as he looked into her furious face. She was just damn lucky he had a leash on himself this morning.

“Yes, I
have
had all of you, Carrie Addison. And I intend to have all of you again,” Michael told her, his gaze as fierce as hers.

Then he bowed his head to Carrie’s mouth despite the strength of her tugging behind him. He chased the fire burning between them across her lips with his, the passion of their kiss shocking with the raw need it revealed. Two months ago was nothing. It was yesterday. His need for her was now.

When she pulled away, Michael said her name, half question and half demand. How could she keep pulling away from him—from
this
?

When Carrie felt her mouth wanting to open under Michael’s, she yanked her lips from his in panic. She released his hair immediately, but had to untangle her fingers as she tried to back away. His body was hot and hard against hers. And he was strong, very strong. Carrie knew if Michael didn’t let go willingly, there wasn’t much she could do about it.

When she felt Michael easing his grip, she tentatively stepped back. Humbled when she almost fell again, Carrie was mortified when Michael had to catch her a second time.

Then she was only angry that she had ended up back where she started in his arms, pressed against him as proof of his desire pressed insistently against her.

“Obviously, I’m in no position to stop you from taking advantage of this situation, but I can promise you our sleeping together again won’t matter in the long run. I will still walk away from this craziness I feel for you just as fast, no matter how many times I have to climb out of your bed,” Carrie warned, her body shaking with fury, hurt, and shame because Michael could seduce her so easily.

Michael straightened and held Carrie away, but he couldn’t make himself let go. Even with Carrie’s rejection stinging his ears, he needed to be sure she wasn’t going to fall. So he couldn’t let Carrie go completely, even when part of him wanted nothing more than to push her away from his body to ease his own pain.

“When you’re strong enough to stand alone and we’re sure you’re not going to faint again, I’ll let go,” Michael said, the words torn from him. “Take your time. I’m—I won’t touch you again. It just happened. You started it when you grabbed my hair.”

Carrie slid her hands down his arms to Michael’s hands and grabbed them to steady herself as she finally moved away.

“I knew staying here was a bad idea. Now I know how bad, but I still have no choice. I can’t ask either of my sisters to drop out of school and move back here to help me. Plus there’s the whole marriage thing. I’m not a fool. I know I won’t be able to stay away from you forever if we’re in the same house, but don’t weave any fantasies, Michael. Wanting you does not mean you get to make me miserable for the rest of my life,” Carrie told him, easing away further, grateful when the dizziness didn’t return. “I’m going to go lie down again now. Don’t follow me.”

Michael stood where she left him, afraid to move, afraid of what he might do if he did. He was wound up enough to prove to them both just how it was between them.

He listened to Carrie sliding her hand down the hallway wall to brace herself as she headed to the bedroom, chastising himself for having vicious thoughts about a woman in her condition. When he heard the door click shut behind her, Michael closed his eyes and swore until the kitchen air was full of his whispered oaths.

He couldn’t work out his frustration on his art because the banging would wake her, and Carrie needed to rest. He couldn’t leave the house for fear she’d fall without him there to help.

Michael had never felt so out-of-control in his entire life, and he hated the feeling.

And still all he wanted was to walk down the hallway and crawl into bed with Carrie to hold her while she slept.

Part of him even felt he needed to apologize again, but hell—he still didn’t know what for. She was upset about the baby and being there, but he was still happy to have her there for any reason.

What the hell was the matter with him?

He was sick, had to be sick to want to tie himself to a woman so unforgiving and so unwilling to see what could be. She knew how it was, how strong it was. Hell, she had married other men to avoid what was between them. He knew that was the reason. Didn’t she understand that their desire for each other was what people looked for all their lives, longed for with every breath?

She carried his child. They were his—both his—the woman and the child. All he wanted was the chance to love them. Why couldn’t she accept that?

And how was her family ever going to if she didn’t?

Well, he wasn’t going to let Carrie just toss what they had aside, Michael decided. Somehow—some way—he
was
going to get through to her.

In the meantime, he was just going to take a cold shower to soothe his temper and maybe a grab a nap himself. He certainly hadn’t slept much last night knowing Carrie was such a short walk away from him.

When they both were calmer later, he would take Carrie to get her things and bring her the hell back here where she belonged.

Tomorrow—Michael promised himself—tomorrow he was going to win the approval of her family. Michael knew her father had not approved of the first two husbands. But the man would accept him. He would have to when he saw that Michael was the right man for his daughter.

Not that it would change his mind if Carrie’s father refused to give his blessing, Michael decided, but winning her family might be the key to the lock on Carrie’s heart.

And for a chance at that, he would try anything.

Chapter 3

“So your father is very strict, and your brother is mean,” Michael restated, noticing Carrie was keeping her face turned to look out the car window and not looking at him. “What’s your mother like?”

“She supports my father in everything regardless of circumstances,” Carrie said flatly, keeping her gaze on the beautiful horse farms they were passing on the way to Sunday lunch with her family. “That’s really all there is to Margaret Addison.”

“Are you not close to your mother?” Michael asked.

“When I lived at home, my father made decisions for all of us, usually without asking what we thought or felt about the situation. Even when I knew my mother disagreed, I only saw her stand up to him once or twice,” Carrie said sadly. “I love her, but I don’t really like or respect her the way you do your family. I think I’ve put a lot of energy into making sure I didn’t turn out to be that kind of woman.”

Michael fought the urge to sigh. He hadn’t even met Carrie’s family, but already he didn’t like them. From the way Carrie talked about them, he didn’t think she liked them much either.

“What about your sisters?” he asked.

“They’re great and happy to be in college,” Carrie said, turning her head back to look at Michael’s profile as he drove. “There’s seven years difference between me and Darla. Alison is not quite eighteen months younger than her. Kevin is two years older than me. It’s like my parents had two completely different sets of children. My brother is a pain, but I actually like my younger sisters. I was the one who talked them into moving to Bowling Green and away from home.”

“You were trying to help them have a better life?” he asked.

“I was hoping they would meet enough people to learn that not all families are as judgmental as ours,” Carrie corrected. “Darla is completing her master’s degree in education. Alison is just beginning hers. They’re both planning to be teachers.”

“You sound very proud of them,” Michael commented, not missing her quick satisfied smile as she nodded.

“Yes, I am,” she confirmed.

“So what’s the deal with your brother? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want,” Michael said, thinking if she didn’t, he’d just make his own decision when he met the man.

“Kevin always tried to be Dad. Every time I went on a date, Dad would lecture the boy on good behavior. That was bad enough. Then Kevin would beat up the guy the next day at school if he even suspected we’d been making out. I couldn’t get a date most of my sophomore year in high school because of my brother.”

Carrie turned to stare out the window again.

“It was poetic justice when Kevin got a girl pregnant his senior year. That put a stop to his controlling behavior where I was concerned. They were planning to get married, but the girl lost the baby. It was a relief to me when Kevin graduated. From my junior year in high school on, I pretty much avoided Kevin until he met and married Crystal three years ago. She’s made him almost tolerable,” Carrie said wryly.

“Your brother sounds like a normal screwed-up guy to me,” Michael said. “Don’t you feel sorry for him even a little bit.”

“Not usually, but Kevin did pay dearly for his mistake in high school,” Carrie said, continuing her story when she realized Michael was still following along intently. “Dad and Mom made his life hell the whole time he was in college. He got lectures about his sex life every time he came home. Darla and Alison used to call me to tell me. They were in middle school and always banished from the room, but they loved to eavesdrop. I decided not saying anything was the way to go. So I lied to my parents in college and said I was too busy to date.”

Michael suddenly had a very clear understanding of why Carrie had chosen to handle her unplanned pregnancy alone.

“Based on what you’ve said, I don’t blame you for keeping things from your parents. I did too, but it was really hard with them both being teachers. Still, they weren’t too bad. My parents would pronounce their disappointment, tell me I had to fix things, and then hug me as they pushed me out the door to do it. Even now, if I don’t fix things to their standards, I hear about it. Since I hate to disappoint them, I try never to screw up,” he told her on a laugh.

“I can’t even imagine my parents fussing and hugging the way yours do. Not that I don’t think your family is just as crazy as mine, especially your mother and future step-mother,” Carrie said, smiling a little at the memories of the women calling each other names. Then later they had stood at the sink doing dishes together as if they’d been friends forever. “But I guess I admire the way they rise above their problems with each other for the greater good of the family unit.”

“My father always says that most people are basically good despite their flaws,” Michael said. “My step-mother is a great person. My mother is a good person too. She tends to be judgmental—wait, that’s not fair. She’s not so much judgmental as just anti-sentimental about what she doesn’t understand. I’m learning that about her. Take my art for example. My mother thinks it’s a crazy thing that people would pay me for my art.”

Carrie whipped her startled gaze to Michael’s profile.
“You’re kidding me. Your mother doesn’t like your art?”

Michael winced and shook his head. “No. When we were kids, she used our art projects as door stops. Dad still gets mad when it comes up. He has always supported our art. My step-mother gets it too. Dad picked a winner in her.”

“How do you still manage to like your mother?” Carrie asked, truly perplexed.

Michael shrugged. “In every other way, Mom is a great mother. She used to sing us to sleep and was very kind when we were sick. She and Dad used to take us on trips and we’d have great adventures. She just doesn’t get art. Not mine, not Dad’s—which sucks, but it’s not a fatal flaw.”

“But, Michael,
art is your life,”
Carrie said emphatically. “And your art is—your art reflects you. There is a true power in your pieces. I’ve always felt—.”

Carrie broke off what she was saying, a bit embarrassed when she noticed Michael staring at her more than the road.

“Felt what?” he asked. “Tell me. Please. I’d like to hear what you think.”

Carrie swallowed. “Because of my success in promoting your work, in the last three years I’ve also worked with several other artists. Lots of artists have talent, but not all art has—well,
real
passion or life visible in it. Your work contains energy. Your father’s does as well. That makes your kind of art the best kind. That’s why people want it.”

“Thank you for sharing that. Your opinion about my art means a lot to me,” Michael said softly, nodding because his throat was tight.

If they had been home, he would have had to walk away to cry. It was extremely validating to know that the woman he loved sincerely liked his art. Maybe he’d always seen that. Maybe that’s why he loved her. It was hard to know which came first. Trapped in the car with her, all Michael could do was turn his full attention back to the road and add her liking his art to the list of things to discuss when they were getting along better.