The Marriage Mistake

“Yeah. Or something. If all you want to do is look like a poster for Calvin Klein, please go somewhere else. I’m sure your other women will appreciate the view.”



He choked on his beer and stared at her as if she’d turned green. “What did you say?”



“You heard me.” She slammed down the bottle on the battered coffee table and began unpacking. His body heat pulsed close behind her, but she ignored him.



“Have you gone nuts? Why is my appearance suddenly so irritating to you? I thought we’d hang out a bit. Order a pizza. No big deal.”



She grit her teeth at his arrogance. “Thank you for the generous offer of your company, Max. But I have a lot to do and I’d like to be alone. We never hung out before unless Michael was around, and I need to get organized.”



“You have the whole weekend.”



“I’m going to the party tomorrow, so I’d like to have most of my stuff done.”



“Ah, yes, the party. With Edward.”



She cut him a warning look. The scene in his office still burned, but she’d be damned if he ever knew. She was done playing games with the man. Time to give him a taste of what she always went through. An inquisition. “I’m looking forward to hanging out more with Laura. I’ll tell Michael I invited her to dinner next week.”



That got his attention. His lithe frame stiffened. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t invite my dates to events without my permission.”



“Why?”



“I like Laura, but I’m in no rush. Meeting family is important.”



She grinned. “Another one bites the dust, huh? Too bad, I thought she had enough to interest you for a while.” He sucked in his breath. She moved on to the next box with a ruthless efficiency and told herself not to engage. Unfortunately, he stepped in front of her and forced her to spar.



“What do you know about the women I date? Just because I move slow and careful does not mean I can’t settle.”



Carina threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, that’s a good one. If I had a dollar for every wrong woman you chose I’d be richer than you. But you didn’t listen to me when we were young, and you’re not now.”



“Name one.”



“Sally Eckerson.”



He frowned. “We dated for three months. A successful relationship.”



“Hmm, interesting. She ended up sleeping with your friend Dale, remember?”



He scrunched up his face, deep in thought. “Oh, yeah. But we had broken it off.”



“No, you broke it off after you found her in bed with your roommate. Then there was the blond model you dated who had an IQ of a whopping one. Maybe two.”



“Jenna? Not true, we had plenty of good conversations.”



She stared him down until he shifted his feet. “Max, you brought her to dinner at Mama’s house. She didn’t know there was a war in Iraq or who the president of the U.S. was.”



“So, she wasn’t a historian. Big deal.”



“She admitted she didn’t read books without pictures.”



“Vogue has articles in it.”



“Yeah, just like you read Playboy for the in-depth stories.”



“That’s unfair. I happen to love women—all women—and give them a chance. Just because I haven’t found The One doesn’t mean I’m not trying.”



Carina shook her head. “I watched them enter and exit the door my whole life. You’re trying with all the wrong women for a reason. You have intimacy issues. Each one is doomed to failure.” Her traitorous heart wobbled and caved an inch. Why couldn’t he see what she did every time she gazed at him? A man full of love who was too afraid to give it? But she knew by practice he’d never be ready to settle down. He refused to date anyone who was worthy of him, because then he’d be out of excuses. By dating women he couldn’t hurt, he was saving himself from his own personal nightmare.



Becoming his father.



He never talked about him, but the wound of being abandoned as a baby never truly healed. He’d set himself up to impossible standards in order to protect himself from ever making the same mistake. Losing his honor. Abandoning the people he loved. The easy fix was evident—he refused to take a chance on anyone.



She reached up and touched his face. The rough stubble scraped against her fingers, and the delicious scent of male heat and sweat and musk rose to her nostrils.



“You’re nothing like your father, Max.” He jerked back. Shock filled his eyes, but she gave him no time to process her statement, or catalogue her weakness for him. “I appreciate the beer and the help. But I really need to get to work. I’ll see you on Saturday.”



This time, she deliberately turned her back on him. Seconds ticked by. Then she heard the clink of the glass on the table and the door shut behind her.



Carina sagged with relief. She’d never walk that path again. She’d never be the woman to save him, and he’d never love her the way she needed. But there was a whole new world out there that opened in possibility, and she’d be a fool not to take advantage. Starting with her date.



Carina plucked her iPod from her purse, slid up the volume, and got to work.



• • •



The Farmers Craft Festival attracted a huge crowd in the Hudson Valley. Max made his way through the field of tents stretched out over acres of fairgrounds and stopped occasionally to examine local artists’ wares. Tables held a delightful array of unique items, from carved pottery to hand-painted birdhouses to watercolor canvases. Local businesses rolled out the red carpet for the event and held various demonstrations to entice guests; there were local charities, police and fire houses, karate and yoga schools. May bestowed the gift of sun and heat, and everyone ran around in shorts and tank tops, ready for an early summer.



Max breathed in the scents of grease and sugar, grabbed a homemade lemonade, and headed toward their tent. The screams of children from the bouncy tent echoed in the air, and a sense of peace settled over him. It was interesting how he’d adopted upstate New York as his second home without a bump. The majestic mountain peaks shimmered in the distance and reminded him they remained king, squeezing the Hudson River within their grip. He loved the familiarity of the locals without the usual snobbiness reserved for outsiders. Here, they were all family, welcomed the moment one decided to adopt a local town as his own.



Max took a hard right, stopping occasionally to chat with various business owners, and kept a lookout for the big sign. He hadn’t been able to oversee this event, but he trusted David to wow him. He worked well with the chef at their new store, and the samples they decided on were a winning combination. Thank God he’d vetoed the chocolate—it would have been a melty mess on a hot day like this.



His gaze snagged on the huge banner and the crowd squeezed around the table. Yes. Their desserts were a huge hit if the line was any indication. A flash of white moved in and out, and a familiar husky laugh raked his ears in a caress.



Then he saw her.



Definitely not David.



She wore tiny little white shorts that did nothing to hide her magnificent ass. Her top should have been conservative enough since the fabric covered everything, but the bright yellow only directed attention to the thrust of her breasts. Her hair was bunched up underneath a ball cap with LA DOLCE MAGGIE spelled out in black lettering, and flirty gold hoops swung on her earlobes. His gaze automatically took in those tanned muscled legs to her feet. Just as he thought. With every other woman wearing flip-flops, she stood out in three-inch yellow sandals that were impractical, ridiculous, and sexy as hell.



What the hell was she doing here?



He pushed his way toward the front of the table but she still didn’t notice him. She flew back and forth with samples of cassata—a sponge cake plump with cannoli cream and soaked in liqueur. Bite-size pieces of tort di treviglio looked fresh and tempting, and the honey biscotti seemed a big hit with the children. Juggling conversation and glasses of iced mocha coffee, Carina chatted, laughed, and handed out a dizzying array of flyers. Her face gleamed with sweat but she never faltered. The two interns played back up, but even Max could see they were out of their element. Rushing back and forth on lanky legs, they seemed unable to properly work the espresso machine and used their time to gape at their gorgeous female boss.



As if she finally sensed his gaze, Carina stopped mid-flight and turned her head.



Something weird squeezed his chest—an uncomfortable tightness he never experienced. The odd urge to take her in his arms flooded him and he took a step forward. Thank God he didn’t finish the movement. With a casual wave, she smiled and went back to her job as if he’d never appeared.



Ego slapped down to size, he cleared his throat and tried to get a grip.



He pushed his way forward and glared. “What’s going on? Where’s David?”



She never broke stride and took her time to answer. “Wasn’t able to make it. I’m covering.”



Max smothered a curse. “Why?”



She shrugged. “His wife’s pregnant. He was in the ER last night with her—she had false contractions.”



“Is she okay?”



“Yeah, but he was exhausted and wanted to stay with her.”



“What about Edward or Tom? They’re supposed to play backup.”



She smiled and doled out a biscotti. “They had plans. I told them I’d take over.”



This time the curse escaped. Her management skills were nonexistent when it came to playing the hard-ass. She let the employees get away with ridiculous stunts they’d never to think to pull on him. She was smart, savvy, and a complete pushover. Her heart got her in trouble every time. “You should have called me, Carina. Dio, I’m going to slaughter my sales force on Monday.”



Her eyes snapped with temper. “Don’t you dare. Besides, I want to be here. I needed to learn the desserts, what sells and what doesn’t. I learned more in the last few hours than I ever did in the office. Get over it.”



The two teenagers took a break from the machine hissing in crankiness and walked over. “Hi, Mr. Gray,” they greeted in unison.



He nodded and tried not to seem like a mean old man. “Hi, guys.”



“Umm, Carina, we’re having trouble keeping up with the espresso. I can’t seem to get it to work right.”



“Okay, Carl, I’ll check it. Here, do the pastries for now. Don’t forget the flyers.”



“Got it.”



Max eased his way toward the side of the L-shaped table where the professional espresso maker loomed with monstrous proportions. She fanned herself and attacked the shiny robotic levers. “You’re management, Carina. The staff is playing you big-time. You moved yesterday and have to be exhausted.”



She gave him a smile full of sass. “Speak for yourself. I’m eight years younger than you. Stamina is not my problem.”



He had a sudden urge to tear off her clothes, tumble her in the field, and teach her about real stamina. The image of her naked and moaning under him assaulted his vision. “Watch out, little girl. I may have to prove you wrong.”