Tempting Fate (24 page)

Was she nuts? What did she just get herself into?

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Chapter Three

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

Cara moaned at the sound of Devin's voice. With her eyes still closed, she fought to keep from being pulled from the dream she'd been having.

The ground was moving around and around. The carnival music blared and the bright lights flashed all around them. Up, down, up down. The carousel horses danced in a row, the wind wiping through her long brown hair making it float on air like the mane of real stallion racing.

“Cara.”

She turned to the sound of Devin's voice. He stood at the sidelines, calling her name. Up, down, all around she moved, wiping passed him.

“Devin?”

The music began to die down. The horses moved in slow motion. When the carousel came round again, Devin was gone. In the distance she saw him, moving through the crowd. He was leaving her.

The ground beneath her began to rock.

“Cara? Wake up.”

The bed rocked to and fro. Cara sucked in a deep breath, wanting the dream to stay alive, wanting to turn around and come back for her. “Where are you going?” she called out to him in her dream. But he didn't turn around. He was gone.

Cara's eyes flew open and when they did, he saw her. Devin was there, his broad shoulders hunched over her as he sat on the side of her bed, gazing in to eyes. His strong hands were gripping her bare shoulders.

“You came back,” she whispered in what sounded to her like a sleepy whimper.

His brows furrowed slightly. “I told you last night I would.”

Slightly dazed, Cara looked down, suddenly aware of where she was. And what she
wasn't
wearing. Although she had on her underwear and a light cotton tank top, the top was old and worn in all the wrong places. It was as good as wearing nothing at all in mixed company.

Devin pulled back and cleared his throat, looking almost apologetic. But there was no mistaking the heat in his eyes.

“Ah...Ruthie. She suggested I come right in and wake you.”

In a groggy state, she clutched the white percale top sheet to her neck to cover her bareness. “I'll just bet she did.”

No longer quite as sleepy, she gazed up at Devin and saw he was dressed in a tank top and running shorts. His smoky brown eyes smiled at her.

“What are you doing here so early?” she asked, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. It read six o'clock. “So ungodly early, I might add.”

“We made plans last night to go jogging on the beach this morning. I told you I'd be here early. You still up for it?”

She rubbed at her gritty eyes and focused on him again and realized he was serious. She shifted in the bed and the thin sheet covering her pulled from her neck, revealing her bare shoulders and a little too much skin just above her breast. She hiked it back up to her chin.

“Yes, but for me that usually means after a cup of coffee and a shower at, oh, somewhere around nine o'clock?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why so late?”

“That's still early for most people, Dev.”

Chuckling, he added, “The day’s almost gone by then for me.”

His expression turned sheepish. She remembered that well. It was one he'd always had when he was confessing some deep seeded secret or dream he'd had as a kid. One he thought she'd find ridiculous. But she never did.

Devin sat on the bed beside her, looking suddenly very comfortable despite her bareness, as if finding her half naked in bed was somehow normal.

With increased awareness, vanity set in. She combed her fingers through her disheveled hair. “Yeah, well, I'm still a don't-look-at-me-until-after-coffee person.” She motioned her head toward the bedroom door. “If Ma's up, you just may get lucky and get some breakfast.”

“I'll meet you downstairs.” He lifted from the bed, causing it to shake, and turned toward the door. She didn't drop the sheet until he closed the door tight behind him.

Her usual morning routine of showering and dressing was completed with record speed, despite the fact that on a normal morning, she would have downed two cups of coffee during the process. Twenty minutes later, she waltzed into the kitchen toward the smell of freshly brewed coffee to find her mother and Devin were nowhere in sight.

Her grandmother, Elsie, weighted down with more fishing gear than a person her size could possibly handle, was just passing through the kitchen when she walked in.

So this was the fishing thing her mother talked about.

“Gram, what are you doing?” she asked, almost feeling ridiculous for asking a question that should be so obvious by her attire.

“Can't talk now,” Elsie said with a bright smile. “I'm late.”

“Where are you going?”

“Cod fishing. I've got to go while the getting is good.” She reached out and grasped the door handle, but Cara held her back.

“Please, just come and sit for a minute so we can talk.”

“We can talk later, the fish are waiting.”

Cara clutched her hands together, not sure how to proceed with the subject at hand. “What about the man I saw you with? Is he waiting, too?”

Elsie turned back quickly, frantically waving her hands back and forth to shush Cara. “Your mother will hear you.”

Cara lowered her voice to match her grandmother’s tone. “Ma doesn't know?”

“Of course not. Do you think I want her poking into my life the way she does yours?”

“Not possible. You're not in your child bearing years.”

Elsie sunk into the kitchen chair, half her gear rattled back and forth, hitting the table with her motion. “What’s more important is how you know about Albert.”

“Albert. I, uh, we saw you yesterday,” she said. “Devin and I saw you.”

“Devin?”

“You know, the man who was at dinner last night?”

“The accountant? Phooey! All accountants are shysters. Best to steer clear of him, dear. He'll only break your heart in the end.” Elsie started to get up as if that was sufficient enough to explain her actions, but Cara gently pulled her back down.

“No, you remember Devin Michaels. He used to spend the summers in the cottage right up the beach.”

As if a light bulb had just been illuminated, her eyes widened and she nodded her head. “Oh, yes, he was a nice boy. How is he doing?”

Cara shook her head in frustration. “Grandma, you had dinner with him last night. Stop purposely being evasive with me because that really only works with Ma.”

Elsie sagged against the back of the chair and made a face. “I should have known I couldn't put that past you.” She gave a good belly laugh, rattling her gear again. “You've always been too much like me. Drives your mother crazy.”

But Cara wasn't laughing. “What's going on?”

“Albert is a nice young gentleman friend of mine,” she said with a satisfied smile. The emphasis on the word “young” did not escape her.

Far be it for Cara to begrudge her grandmother happiness, but there was the bigger, more frightening issue of her behavior. “Ma thinks you have Alzheimer’s.”

“No. I have a life.”

When that was the only response her grandmother offered, she elaborated. “Ma says you've been doing odd things, like saying you're going to church in the middle of the afternoon.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that. Lots of people go to church every day.”

“Yes, but you didn't go. I saw you...on the beach,” Cara said delicately.

“You did?”

“You were with Albert.”

Elsie's wrinkles deepened into a frown. “Were you spying on me?”

“No, I was taking a walk and saw you swimming in the nude.” She hoped she wouldn't have to elaborate any further. It was hard enough to accept what she saw when she saw it.

“I think that Albert and I deserve to have a little bit of privacy, don't you?”

“Gram, you were naked on a public beach!”

Elsie balled her fist. “Dear, when life presents itself to you, you have to grasp it with both hands and live it with gusto.” She stood and shuffled to the door, making it clear that the conversation was over as far as she was concerned. With a bright smile, she added. “Have a nice day.”

Cara buried her face in her hands. Her poor mother thought her grandmother had Alzheimer’s and all she was doing was having a torrid affair. Cara didn’t know what bothered her more, the deception or the fact that her grandmother was the only one having sex.

She took a deep breath and let the smell of coffee fill her head. A healthy dose of caffeine would do her some good. She paced across the green tile floor and pulled a ceramic mug with little yellow daffodils on it from the cabinet. After preparing a cup for herself, she slumped back, leaning her hip against the counter, wondering where Devin had disappeared to.

Surely her mother would have jumped at the chance to make him breakfast. Ruthie was never so happy as when she was cooking for a hundred people.

A warm breeze floated lifted to the curtains and brought with it the sound of voices. Pushing back the sunflower curtains above the kitchen sink, she saw Devin on the front porch gripping a coffee mug in his hand as he leaned against the porch post. Her mother sat at the wrought iron table next to him, arranging a colorful bouquet of flowers in a painted ceramic vase. All she needed to hear was Roger’s name and she knew she didn’t want to go anywhere near that porch. Lord only knew what Ruthie was filling Devin’s head with.

The familiar sound of the silver BMW pulling into the driveway pulled her attention away from the porch. She drew in a cleansing breath and pasted on a smile, readying herself for the upcoming storm.
Roger was here.

He said he’d come and like always, he was true to his word. That was a good trait in a man, she’d always told herself. She thought about the conversation she’d just had with her grandmother. Just once, she’d like to trade some boring old predictability for a little bit of heavenly gusto.

Pushing through the screen door, Cara felt a surge of unease wash over her. Ruthie, in true form, was already scowling as Roger climbed out of the car and slammed the door. The eerie feeling grew stronger and Cara vaguely wondered if this was how the people of Washington State felt just before Mount Saint Helens blew her top.

* * *

Devin slumped back against the porch railing, listening to the musical cry of seagulls on the beach as he watched the tall sandy-haired man step out of the car.

So this is the guy he’d just gotten an earful about.

Devin had just spent the last twenty minutes listening as Ruthie talk about “fine” Roger. From everything Ruthie had said, he was everything Cara would want in a man. He watched as the man smiled when Cara appeared in the doorway. His teeth were too straight and his hair was too neat. But Devin knew too well that appearances could be deceiving. No one could be that perfect.

Devin’s eyes were drawn to Cara as she stepped out onto the porch. She was all dressed in a crisp white T-shirt and navy skin fitting spandex running pants hugging her thighs. For a fleeting moment he imagined those thighs pressed firmly against his own body. When had her thighs become
that
appealing?

His body responded as it had earlier when he first caught sight of her lying in bed. Seeing her sleeping, with her wild dark hair cascading over her pillow, pretty much drove him insane. An honorable man would have turned and walked away as soon as he opened the door and saw her curled up in a ball on her side. But there was nothing honorable about the way the sight of her, wearing a nothing night shirt, made him feel.

When he saw the white sheet draped loosely over her body, revealing smooth creamy skin only a lover should be privileged to enjoy, his whole body kicked into overdrive. He had been pulled into the room like some mighty magnet drawing him to her. It took all the strength he had to cover her body and shield his eyes from the very vision that kept playing over and over in his mind now, driving him mad.

He fought to shrug off this animal need enveloping him as he looked over at Cara. Let’s face it, friend or no friend, he still had a fairly strong male libido. He was a guy, after all, and Cara had turned into one incredibly desirable woman. It was only natural for him to respond to her. It would pass.

With a pensive smile, she climbed off the porch. “You said you’d be here early, but I had no idea you’d be up before the roosters, too.” She walked down the concrete path toward the driveway where Roger stood. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, but it was clear that Cara expected more by the way she back away at his quick response to seeing her.

Although he and Ruthie were still on the porch, and Roger and Cara were standing a good distance away in the driveway, Roger’s voice carried to them with brilliant clarity. “So how’s Ruthie dearest?”

Ruthie stiffened. But ever the gracious hostess, she smiled and swung around to greet her new house guest. “So nice of you to drop by, Rupert,” she said.

“The name is Roger,” he corrected with a heaving sigh. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, of course. Will you be staying for breakfast?” she asked brightly, although, by the way Ruthie stood straight as a board, Devin got the idea she’d like to pitch him out the door right now...or at least throw him into the nearest ocean wave.

Cara’s lips thinned. “I told you Roger was going to stay with us for a few days.”

“Oh, that’s right. How nice,” Ruthie returned.

Cara stood at the end of the path, pleading with him with her eyes to help. Devin just grinned, the devil in him deciding it was much too fun to watch the flames.

“I’m Devin Michaels,” he finally said, holding his hand out to shake Roger’s.

“Cara mentioned she had an old friend in town,” Roger said, advancing toward the house. “Good to meet you. I’m Roger Fine.”

Devin coughed to hide his surprise.

“Are you okay?” Ruthie asked, shining an impish grin.

“Swallowed a bug.”

Devin gripped Roger’s hand and was a little taken aback by the lack of force in his hold. In his profession, the handshake was a power struggle. If an opponent’s grip was too soft, he immediately knew he had it in the bag. Too hard, and he was on equal ground.