Chapter Two
TAWNY COULD COUNT on one hand the number of things in her life that had come easily. Anything academic was a given. She’d been blessed with genes from her MENSA-worthy father, who had been a chemist, and her mother, a biologist whom she’d lost before she was old enough to really know her. It was Tawny’s academic prowess that had first connected her to Carson. They’d partnered for a lab, and she’d been sure he was a jocky, cocky twerp—until he’d opened his mouth and she’d learned that while he might have the hard body typical of athletes, he was beyond brilliant. As for cocky, well, he hadn’t been in-your-face arrogant, but he could bring a woman to her knees with one heated glance, and that had been enough to set off her alarm bells. Her ability to discern bullshit from truth was another thing that had come easily from a very young age, which had immediately affected the third and final thing that had come without effort.
Her friendship with Carson.
He had immediately quelled those alarm bells with his careful, thoughtful nature, and their friendship had come as naturally as walking or talking. Carson’s eye contact, his inquisitive nature, and his blatant answers, even when they could have used tempering, had instantly endeared him to her. She’d double majored in chemistry and computer science, giving them plenty to talk about. His love of science fiction had been icing on the cake. Now, as she sat beside him in the back of the dark sedan, shielded from his driver’s view by tinted glass, his intoxicating scent incited seductive memories, spreading heat like wildfire through her body. His eyes never left hers. Except when the driver, whom Carson called Barton, stopped for Carson to purchase Junior Mints. He’d always been a man of his word.
She wasn’t surprised he had a driver, with his career and his need for privacy. But the sparks still sizzling between them were surprising, even though some part of her had hoped—assumed?—their relationship would feel as right as it always had. Now another part of her was scared shitless. What if she couldn’t handle it again?
Isn’t that why I’m here? To figure this out?
When five nights pass, you won’t want to get out of my bed.
She’d played off his comment as if it were an old joke between them, but they both knew he’d never said anything like that to her before. Not even close, which was why her heart was racing. He’d spoken with such confidence and finality. She thought she’d been prepared for anything, but she suddenly felt vulnerable, unable to decipher whether he meant what he said, or if this was one of his sexual games. His arm was stretched behind her, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. While it was a familiar thing he’d done when they were younger, things had definitely changed. This was anything but easy. It was combustible.
She swallowed hard. Maybe this is a little too much like old times. Their connection was electric. Visceral. She definitely hadn’t blown that out of proportion. Am I setting myself up for more heartache? Was this going to be just like college all over again—she’d fall for Carson while he played around with a host of other women?
He pushed his hand to the base of her neck, rubbing the knots that had been there since she’d first seen the flyer for the fundraiser. She closed her eyes, enjoying his touch. It had been years since she’d been touched by a man, and no one had ever touched her in the way, sexual or platonic, that Carson did. Trust had never been an issue between them. The foundation of trust they’d built helped push her worries away.
“That feels incredible.”
“You always did carry your stress in your neck.”
The seductive way he said it reminded her of how he’d soothed the lingering aches from her neck and shoulders after he’d bound her to the bed. She’d melted beneath his touch then, just as she was doing now.
“You remember?” She opened her eyes and found him watching her even more intently than before.
“I haven’t forgotten a thing, Tabs.” He ran his finger along the edge of her jaw. “Not one second of the time we spent together.”
He leaned closer, and she fought against her body’s natural inclination to meet him halfway. Tell me you want my mouth.
“Close your eyes, Tabs. Relax.”
She closed her eyes, comforted by his taking control even though he hadn’t asked for what she wanted. This was better. Smarter.
“Tell me about your divorce. Was it amicable? Or do I have to track down Keith and make him disappear?”
She smiled, eyes still closed, his hand working its magic on her tension. “It was friendly. We weren’t in love, at least not the way married couples should be.” He was safe. But he wasn’t you. “We’re still friends.”
“I’m sorry you weren’t happy, but I’m glad it didn’t end painfully.”
He leaned closer, his breath warming her skin, drenching her in the scent of rum. Dark rum. Sweet and spicy, with hints of sugarcane, molasses, and charred oak. Oh, what she’d give to taste it on him, to feel the hard press of his lips, his tongue sliding over hers as he took the kiss deeper, until he possessed all of her. She opened her eyes, and he was right there, close enough to fulfill her every wish.
The car pulled to the side of the road, and the edges of Carson’s lips tipped up, as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. She was sure he did, which made her even more nervous.
“I’ve missed you, too, Tabs,” he said as Barton opened the car door and cold air rushed over her legs. “Let’s get you inside.”
Carson stepped out and helped her from the car, his hand resting on her back as he guided her under his umbrella, which seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Barton carried her bag to the porch and drove away as stealthily as a ninja. Carson tucked her against him as they hurried up the brick steps of his Gramercy Park home. Ornate iron railings and brick columns framed an inviting front porch. He set the umbrella against the brick wall and pushed a code into a keypad by the door. The sound of a lock unlatching competed with the thump of her rampant heartbeat. His hand moved lower, his long fingers pressing against the base of her spine as he pushed the door open.
His alluring scent wafted out of his home like an embrace. She noted the strength of his hand, and his commanding presence, as they stepped inside, and he set her bags in the high-ceilinged foyer. She inhaled deeply, taking in the expansive living room off to the right. Sleek-lined and tufted black leather sofas were complemented by a white marble coffee table. A stately and elegant fireplace was centered along the far wall, flanked by built-in bookshelves, and beside them, black-and-white artwork that looked like it cost a fortune. His style hadn’t changed much. He’d always preferred clean, smooth lines, though his furniture in college hadn’t been nearly as expensive. She wondered for the first time if her affinity for the same was born from their friendship or if she’d developed it before they’d met. She could barely remember her life before Carson, and she wondered if he was as nervous as she was. Some people emitted unpleasant odors when they were nervous, and others simply smelled a little different. Tawny had never been able to smell Carson’s nerves. He was the most even-keeled, controlled person she knew.
Except when they’d roll the dice to see who got to take sexual control and he’d lost, handing the reins over to her. She’d gotten a taste of what it was like to take and demand, and he’d gotten a dose of vulnerability. She shuddered with the illicit memories.
“Cold?” Carson asked as he removed her coat and hung it in a closet behind him.
“A little.” But that’s not why I shuddered.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling and tapping, then slipped it back into his pocket. She heard the lock mechanisms in the door again, and a fire whooshed to life in the fireplace. His gaze moved hungrily down her body, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. He pressed his large, rough hands to her upper arms, moving them from shoulder to elbow and back up again, warming and exciting her at once. When he reached her shoulders, he touched the leather accent on the capped sleeves of her dress.
“Leather. Nice touch.” His eyes darkened.
“I thought you might like it.” She’d picked out the dress with him in mind after she’d first gotten divorced, but it had taken her two years to get up the courage to come see him.
He squeezed her shoulders the way he used to when he’d strip her bare. How had she gone so many years without him? Without his touch? His voice? His intimate knowledge of her?
“I would like you in rags, Tabs.”
She knew how true that was. She had never been the type of girl to wear cute little skirts and sandals or plunging necklines. That hadn’t come until she was older, trying to entice her husband into sexier thoughts. A futile endeavor, and a painful one for her. It was no wonder she couldn’t lure Keith into something more. He’d always known it was Carson she wanted.
“Well, that’s about all I wore in college, so…”
“No one filled out jeans and T-shirts the way you did.” His gaze took another stroll down her body. “And that dress…man, Tabs.”
He led her across the hardwood floors as she soaked in his compliment, and the rest of the living room came into view. It was much more expansive than she’d thought, with another sofa, a leather recliner with a reading light beside it, which made her want to curl up with a good book, and floor-to-ceiling glass doors that opened to a balcony.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.
That was a dangerous question, and she knew by the seductiveness of his voice that he was thinking the same thing. He was testing her boundaries, something he was very good at. The silent question—Are we going there tonight?—lingered in his eyes. She hadn’t been a drinker in college, and the one and only time she had given in to his persistent suggestion of attending a party together, it had taken only one drink to lower her defenses enough for her to reach for his hand when the noisy crowd had made her nervous. The second drink had loosened her up enough to dance with him when he dragged her to the middle of the room and began moving in ways she’d seen only in movies. And the third drink, which they’d had in his apartment later that Sunday night, had been enough for her to surrender to her hidden desires—and then some.
In the years since, she’d honed her ability to have two or three drinks without losing control. A drink was exactly what she needed to fend off her nerves.
“Yes, please.”
“MÉNAGE À TROIS?” Carson handed Tawny a glass and sank down on the couch beside her, enjoying the shock flaring in her eyes. He was pleased to find this boundary, as he’d wondered how far she’d taken her passions over the years. “Don’t worry,” he said gently, then firmer, “I’m not into sharing. It’s the name of the drink.”
Sighing with relief, she took the glass and held it under her nose, breathing it in. He’d always loved watching her take in the scent of everything from books to food. But his favorite thing was when they were close and she’d run her nose over his skin, breathing him in.
“Mm. Dark rum, triple sec, and cream?”
“Fascinating. You’ve still got that keen sense of smell.”
She lifted the glass toward her lips, and as he’d remembered, her tongue swept across the rim just before she took a drink. He felt the warm glide as if it had slicked over his skin.
“It’s what I do for a living,” she said, and set her glass on the coffee table. Turning toward him, she curled her legs up on the couch. Her dress inched up her thighs, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the view. “I’m a perfumer, in Paris.”
She’d only just reappeared and his mind was already sprinting through a list of possible entanglements with her life being so far away. “A perfumer? You did it. When you took that internship with the fragrance company, you said you’d find your way to the top. And Paris? I guess that’s where the magic happens for fragrances?”
“Yes, but that’s not the only reason why I moved there.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, her gaze falling to the space between them. “Paris was my escape to start over. I moved there about two years ago, after my father passed away.”
She stretched her arm across the back of the couch and rested her cheek on it, her green eyes finding his once again. His heart sliced right down the middle at the pain in her eyes, the same way it had all those years ago, the night she’d ended their sexual relationship and run out of his apartment. Only this time he could try to ease the pain in a way he’d never been given a chance to back then.
He hooked his hand beneath her knees, lifting her legs over his as he moved closer. Her father had been her world. She’d called him every week all four years of college, and she’d sent him letters in the mail. He and my mother used to send each other letters. I think it makes him happy to get mail other than bills. And every year on her parents’ anniversary, she and her father would have lunch together at the coffeehouse in Greenwich Village where her parents first met. He couldn’t begin to imagine how alone she must feel.
She snuggled closer, placing her hand on his stomach and resting her cheek on his arm, underscoring how deep and easy their friendship had been. It was like time hadn’t changed anything at all. But he knew it had. Time had given him a deeper understanding of who he was and what he wanted. And he’d come to understand that what he’d felt for Tawny all those years ago had been love, and even now, years later, that love was still alive.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry. I wish I had been there for you.”
“I do, too,” she whispered sweetly, driving the ache deeper. “But you couldn’t have been there without turning my world even more upside down than it already was. It was a really difficult time for me, and my father’s death was just part of the reason. After he died I couldn’t bring myself to go through his belongings. He’d pared down to the essentials before he got really sick. I had no idea he’d been so sick until I came home for the holidays and I noticed the house looked emptier. He told me then that the cancer wasn’t getting better, and he said he didn’t want me to have to weed through his life.”
She paused, staring across the room as if she was remembering the moment he’d said it. “Anyway, I put his things into storage and sold the house. I still can’t face going through them.”
He brushed her hair from her cheek, wondering how many other things she’d experienced without someone by her side. “You shouldn’t face that alone. I’ll go with you. We’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
“You’d do that for me? I can’t promise I won’t fall apart. My dad had been sick for a long time. I should have been ready for the end, but it was awful.”
“How can you ever be ready to lose someone you love? I’ll be there with you, and if you fall apart, I’ll put you back together.” When his little sister had been diagnosed with leukemia, it had happened so fast, they’d had no time to prepare. It seemed like one day she was sick with a bad rash and then the next they were in the hospital. And then she was gone.
Her whole body seemed to sigh with relief. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“Do you want to talk about your dad?”
She nodded, gratitude rising in her eyes. “I was with him in the days before he passed. He’d lost a huge amount of weight, Carson. It was hard to see his body withering away after he’d been my rock for so long. But really, he was my rock even then, frail or not. He was days from leaving this world forever, and I think he made a point of saving me by saying something that changed the way I looked at my life, and myself.”
“I can only imagine how difficult that was. I’m here now, and you can count on me, Tabs. I’ll help you with whatever you need. What did he say that made such a difference?”
She smiled, and that nervous laugh slipped out again. “Well, you knew my dad. You know how serious he was.”
He’d met her father a few times, but one time stood out in his mind. He’d come to visit when Carson and Tawny had been cramming for a test. They’d had dinner together, and they’d spent the evening discussing family, science, and plans for their futures. It had been an unforgettable night, and not just because of their instant camaraderie, but because her father had reminded Carson of his own father before his sister had died from leukemia, when his father had turned bitter and angry.
“He was a serious guy, but that’s what I liked about him,” Carson said. “He was honest and real. And in this messed-up world where people have seventeen fake personas on social media and get off on naked Snapchat pics, we need more people like him.”
“He was an acquired taste for some. Like I am.” She smiled up at him.
“Acquired taste my ass.” I’d call you an obsession. “Babe, you’re the realest person I know.” He lifted her hand from his stomach and brushed his thumb over the fingers that had once explored his body with such intense curiosity it brought a dull ache. “The world is full of ignorant people who can’t understand complexities. They’re limited, and not always because of cognitive abilities, but because they have no drive to expand their views, which allows them only to fit people into their narrow idea of typical. Those dullards are a dime a dozen. They’re shallow, and unambitious, and they couldn’t pick out a diamond among a heap of rocks.”
He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand and gazed into her eyes. “You are not an acquired taste, Tawny. You’re the piece of computer code only the most adept can read. Fine silk in a sea of polyester. Godiva in a bucket of Hershey’s.”
She laughed and buried her face in the crook of his arm. “Carson, I’ve missed our friendship so much.” She looked up at him again, a sweet smile playing on her lips. “Do you really want to know what he said?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you only say what you mean.” Her expression grew serious. “I asked him if he had any regrets, and he said, ‘How can I have any regrets? I spent every minute I could with the love of my life.’ He meant my mother, of course.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“Then he said, ‘And she left me with the greatest gift of all.’”
He brushed his lips over her forehead. “That’s you, Tabs.”
“Yeah, I got that,” she said with a sassy arch of her brow. “He was on oxygen, and he paused for the longest time. I thought that was all he had to say. I don’t mean like it was only that, because I felt like what he’d said was significant. But a few minutes later he asked me to get a mirror, and when I did, he told me to look in it. Then he asked if I had any regrets. I couldn’t answer him, Carson. If I was looking at him, I know I would have said no just so he wouldn’t worry about me when he took his last breath. But looking in that mirror? He forced me to see who I’d become, like he knew how unhappy I was. He said, ‘Regret comes from living your life wearing someone else’s skin. It’s fixable.’”
She shrugged, but he could see the shrug was an act to cover up how affected she’d been.
“After he passed away, I vowed to figure out my life. I separated from Keith and took a job in Paris with a fragrance company that had been trying to recruit me forever. I decided to stop living an unfulfilling life, and I spent the last couple of years trying to figure out what that meant, and who I was.”
“You’re killing me here,” he admitted. “All this time I thought you were happily married. What happened, Tawny?”
“You, Carson. You happened.”