Tempt Me, Taste Me, Touch Me
Page 18

A flicker of guilt worked its way up her spine. She wasn't cheating on James, but then, she hadn't given him his ring back yet, had she?
But this was about Tyson, not her. "She cheated, didn't she?" "It was as much my fault as it was hers," he said, and although Carrie disagreed, she kept quiet. For now. "Kimberly knew exactly what she wanted from me. From marriage. From her life. She was up-front. At least I think she was. She loved that I was in the wine business, but as she got friendly with the competition, she started wondering why I wasn't bottling more. Why my production wasn't on par with the big guys. She blamed my methods."
Carrie cut in. "She didn't support you being organic, I take it:' "She did at first. Thought it sounded New Agey, or something.
But the reality is that it's expensive. And time consuming:' He shook his head. "All of this is the long way of saying that I found her in bed with my vineyard manager. She wasn't the least bit upset to see me standing in the doorway. From what I hear, Rogelio didn't last long, so my sense is that she used him to get to me. To end things with me:'
"I don't get it;' Carrie said, enraged at this woman who had treated Tyson so badly. Even though her rage was at odds with the fact that she wouldn't be with him had his ex-wife not been an utter skank. "Why would she want to leave you? You're intelligent, you've created a remarkable business, and on top of that, you are beyond amazing in bed."
She clamped her mouth shut, but she was a moment too late. "Beyond amazing, huh?" She blushed. "Can we forget I said that?"
He laughed. "Nope. I'll be remembering that one for a good long time. Beyond amazing applies to you too, you know. It's something I don't get, actually:'
"What's that?" "How come you haven't been snapped up yet? Us men aren't really that stupid, are we?" "I'll plead the fifth on that one;' she said in a teasing voice, but inside, even as she thrilled at his compliment, she was cringing. She should have already told him about James. Friday night, during dinner, when he'd asked her if she was seeing anyone, she could have made a joke about being on the rebound with a ring still in her pocket. And again, last night at the dinner, she'd had her chance out in the garden to say, "You're not the only one with a past;' but she'd been too wimpy, too afraid of spoiling her fairytale evening to come clean. Now, it felt too late. Her timing was terrible.
Tyson's words broke into her jumbled thoughts. "I was that stupid, actually. About Kimberly. I should have known we weren't a good fit. But I wanted to be married. Have kids. It was time. Another thing to check off my list. Sounds stupid, doesn't it?"
"Not at all. I know all about lists. I think I invented them:' He grinned at that, but she knew he wanted her to say more. To let him in. "I was in a similar situation. Not married;' she said, wanting to be clear, still trying to find a way to tell him about James without making herself look bad, "but, I guess, trying to cross some things off of my list. Getting married was one of them. Kids would have been another if I'd ever made it to the altar:' They were sitting up in bed now. Tyson's back was propped against the headboard, she was sitting crosslegged, covered in blankets and sheets. She felt so comfortable with him, here, like this. She felt like they belonged together.
Please, God, she silently prayed, don't let me mess this up.
She took a deep breath and said, "It's a funny story, actually, has a lot to do with that horrible crowd I hung out with for too long:' but just as she was about to admit the worst, a telephone rang and he shifted his attention away from her.
"That's my emergency line." He looked torn. "I wouldn't think of getting it otherwise. I want to finish this conversation. I want to learn more about you, Carrie. I'm hoping I'll get the chance."
She swallowed hard. Partly from relief. Partly because he wanted to see her again. He wanted to get to know her better.
"You will. Get the chance, I mean. Don't worry. Go deal with your emergency:'
"You won't leave town before I see you again, will you?"
He was already out of bed, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt. He looked rugged and rumpled and gorgeous. Naked, she stood up and wrapped her arms around him.
She gave him a long, thorough kiss, then said, "Not a chance." He gave her one last, hot kiss and told her to take his car back to the hotel, then he was gone. She felt silly putting the fancy dress back on, so she opened the door to his walk-in closet and tried not to feel like a snoop as she reached for a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. Everything in his closet smelled fresh and clean and wonderful. She wanted to stay in his house forever. Instead, she reached for the self-control that she'd been such a master of until Friday night, pulled on his clothes, carefully folded her dress, and grabbed his keys from the foyer table. Hopefully she could slink back into her room at the hotel without anyone seeing her.
A FEW MINUTES LATER she pulled into the parking lot, wishing she knew of a back entrance. She took a deep breath, plastered a confident smile on her face, and walked barefoot through the lobby, holding her dress in one hand, her shoes in another, feeling more like a teenager who'd snuck out a window the night before than a grown woman.
She held her head high and met strangers' stares and inquisitive smiles with self-assurance. By the time she locked the door behind her and finally let herself breathe again, she felt as if she'd run a marathon. She closed her eyes and let her weight rest against the door.
She couldn't put James off any longer. A formal ''I'm giving you your ring back as soon as I get home because we're completely over and never should have started in the first place" call to her ex was long overdue.
But first, she needed to clean up. The thought of facing James, even over the phone, made her want to look her best. Almost as if he'd know what a mess she was without seeing her and it would put her at a disadvantage.
She took her time in the shower. Somehow it seemed vitally important that she shave her legs, moisturize, pluck her eyebrows. She chose her outfit with undue care, slipping into a black tank top that she knew James hated (black was a big no-no in Mummy's book, of course) and a short denim skirt that Vanessa had insisted she buy last month. Carrie felt sexy and naughty.
She tried his cell, his house, and his office before she remembered that it was Sunday. Which meant church, first, lunch at Agnes's Nob Hill showplace, second. She was hardly able to believe that she'd forgotten the weekly ritual she'd endured for two long years.
Great. She was going to have to tell him they were officially over with his mother listening over his shoulder. It was almost enough of an excuse for Carrie to put the call off a few more hours. But she was sick to death of being a wimp.