The Marriage Mistake
Page 22

Immediately, she was led to the corner table where Sawyer stood to greet her. He favored black, and it was the perfect color for him. Lean and graceful, his hair hit his shoulders and framed the harsh features of his face. He held a dangerous aura about him that intrigued her.
She ordered a dirty martini and they engaged in small talk.
“How do you like Vegas so far?”
Carina motioned around her. “What’s not to like? I’ve been trapped in Bergamo my whole life, so this is like a gourmet meal after living on crackers.”
He smiled. “I’ve traveled to Milan many times and know your mother. I’ve always loved the tranquility of your home.”
“Bergamo is part of my soul. But I’ve lived with three older siblings who were overprotective, and it was hard to experience anything new and exciting. I’m enjoying my taste of freedom.”
“Freedom is a heady drink.” Those eyes gleamed with mischief. “Like the first hit of a fine wine. The taste is more explosive due to being contained for many years.”
She plucked an olive from her drink and slid it off the stick. His gaze followed her mouth in obvious interest. “You’re a poet, Sawyer Wells. Who would’ve thought? How do you know my mother?”
“We met years ago. She pulled me out of a delicate situation, and I promised her my loyalty.”
She lifted a brow. “Are you going to elaborate?”
“No.”
Carina grinned. “You must have read the handbook for women. We love a good mystery.”
“I thought you liked to fix us also. Save us from ourselves.”
“We do, but you rarely let us.”
A chill skated down her spine at the sudden flare of heat in his gaze. Oh, yeah, she was way out of her league. This man was a master of seduction and she belonged in training camp. Still, the heady banter and his sharp wit pulled her in, even as he scared the hell out of her.
“Are you going to tell Max about our date?”
The mention of his name yanked her back into reality. Her fingers clenched. “If he asks.”
Sawyer caught the motion and leaned in. The scent of woods and musk wrapped her in sensuality. “Tell me about your relationship with Max.”
“He’s my brother’s best friend. We grew up together and he followed Michael to New York to open La Dolce Maggie.”
“Childhood friends?”
“Yes. Why so many questions about Max?”
Sawyer studied her. “Has he claimed you?”
She sputtered on her next sip. “Excuse me?”
“Are you sleeping together?”
“No. But I’m not sure why it’s your business.”
“There is no question you should be afraid to ask, Carina. You’re not only beautiful, but intelligent. A dangerous combination. I want to make sure you’re free.”
His rich tone wrapped her in possibility. This man wanted her. Why wasn’t she swooning and inviting him to her room? Damn Max. Somehow, she was still stuck on her childhood crush, and it only pissed her off.
“I’m free. And I’m tired of talking about Max.”
He reached out and snagged her hand. A pleasant jolt vibrated through her, but nothing like the intense belly-dropping excitement when Max touched her. Not that she was thinking of Max.
“So am I. Though I may need to release you to let you keep your dinner date.”
She tilted her head and her hair slipped over one shoulder. “But not yet.”
A smile touched his lips. “No, not yet. What do you paint?”
“Portraits. Family members, babies, animals. I love looking beyond the surface of people and trying to capture something they never see. Reminds me of how my sister-in-law describes her photography.”
“I can’t paint a stick figure, but I can appreciate. I remember my first trip to Italy and getting drunk on the art. I was almost arrested at the Uffizi Gallery because I wouldn’t leave.”
“Yes, I’ve haunted the gallery my whole life. The first time I laid eyes on the Sistine Chapel I sobbed like a baby.”
“You never wanted to paint professionally?”
The longing washed over her, fierce and raw. The more she realized her future with La Dolce Maggie, the more her soul cried out for something different. Carina hesitated, not sure how much to share with him. “Yes, but I never believed in myself enough.”
Sawyer nodded. “I know how that feels.”
The silence between them throbbed with the lure of friendship and the possibility of more.
Carina smiled. “Now, tell me about the glamorous world of hotels.”
They talked for the next hour until it was time to meet Max for dinner. Sawyer clasped her hand within his. “Carina, I’d like you to join me afterward. I’ll show you the club and we can go dancing if you’d like.”
Carina hesitated. Her need for Max battled with the temptation before her. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
“I’ll be in Tao waiting for you. You decide.”
He pressed a kiss to her cheek and left her.
Her past fantasies warred with her present.
Time to choose.
• • •
Carina made her way back to the lobby where Max waited for her. The look on his face when he spotted her set the tone for the evening.
His jaw dropped. His gaze took in her outfit, and his features tightened. “You can’t wear that,” he whispered in fury. “For God’s sake, Carina, that dress is, that dress is—”
“Hmm, a simple ‘you look nice’ would have been appropriate.”
The moment she spotted the Versace dress she’d gone nuts. An elegant crisscross of straps wrapped her breasts up in a wicked game of peekaboo, until the beholder had no idea what was fabric and what was flesh. The skirt nipped in at the waist, then fell to the floor in a series of jagged cuts, and the peachy color complemented her olive skin. A quick trip to the spa took care of her Brazilian wax, and even though she’d screamed, the pain had been well worth it. She left her hair down loose and wore only a thick gold cuff around her wrists, reminding her of a sexy slave girl.
His current speechlessness made the price so well worth it. Even better when she finally turned.
He hissed in a breath. The fabric in the back started at the curve of her buttocks. She’d begun the evening with a naughty game she intended to win. She tossed her next comment over her shoulder. “If you don’t like it, you can always take it off.”
He didn’t say a word.
The Canaletto restaurant was filled, but they were immediately ushered to a cozy table outside near St. Mark’s Square. The gorgeous cream colors and glowing lights gave an air of intimate elegance, and overlooked the Grand Canal where gondolas floated past and murmurs of low conversation drifted in the air. Feeling as if she was transported to Venice, Carina relaxed and ordered a glass of Montepulciano and enjoyed the earthy richness on her tongue. Anything was better than allowing it to loll out of her mouth like an idiot.
Why did he always have to look so . . . perfect? Where Sawyer was all raw sex and darkness, Max reminded her of a polished playboy, with an easy charm and elegance bred in his bones. His suit had been replaced with a dark blue silk shirt, casual slacks, and low-heeled leather boots. His Vacheron Constantin watch gleamed burnished silver around his wrist as he reached for his wine and took a deep swallow.
The plan was simple. Use her time over dinner to seduce him. Unfortunately, she realized he decided to play his own game: memory lane. “Remember the time you brought that guy home from school and Michael and I followed you to Sam’s Cafe?” He shook his head as if pretending to remember. “We hid in the bushes and when the dude leaned in to kiss you, Michael jumped out. Scared him so bad he left you there, so we had to take you home.”
The image still stung. The humiliation of having Michael stalk her with his sidekick seriously undermined her dating life. “And your point is?” she asked dryly.
“Sorry, just remembering how overprotective your brother is. That’s all.”
Point taken. By throwing her big brother into the conversation, it was a definite seduction killer. Also a direct reminder of the stakes involved. She needed to up her game. Carina took another sip of wine, licked her lips, and smiled. “I had a date with Sawyer this evening.”
He stared at her. The stunned expression on his face soothed her confidence. “What are you talking about? Sawyer asked you on a date?”
“Yes.”
He gritted his teeth in masculine temper. “When?”
“I went to see him in his office. I told him I was stepping out of the deal due to my mistake, and that the figure I gave was impossible.”
A vicious curse escaped his lips. “You were supposed to let me handle it.”
Carina lifted her chin. “If I make a mistake I fix it, Max. You should know that about me by now.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I do. I just wish you didn’t feel like you always have to take on the world by yourself in order to prove you’re worthy.”
The statement hit her full force. He did know her, more intimately than any other man. “Well, it’s done now. Sawyer agreed not to let my blunder affect the negotiations.”
“Did you feel you had to go out with him? Did he pressure you?”
“No. I wanted to.”
He jerked back. “Sawyer is out of your league, Carina. Stay away from him.”
He may have repeated her own thoughts but it still pissed her off. “You don’t know what league I play in any longer. How long have you been friends?”
“Long enough to know he’s not right for you.”
“Then who is?”
He practically brooded at the direct challenge, focusing his attention on his wine. She hoped for a bit of jealousy to throw him off, but once again, he backed off from a challenge by hiding behind a twisted sense of honor. “Let’s change the subject, shall we?”
“Sure. I got a Brazilian wax today.”
He choked on the piece of bread in his mouth. Eyes watering, he lowered his voice. “Are you kidding me? Don’t talk about stuff like that.”
The sweat beading his brow told her he was uncomfortable in other aspects. “Why not? If you insist on topics of conversation that portray me as a little girl, I guess I have to remind you I’m all grown up.” She winked. “Wanna see?”
A flush crept up his cheek. “No. And don’t let anyone else see, either.” He shifted in his chair. “You’re playing a screwed-up game with me and you’re not thinking of the consequences.”
“Let’s go over the options then, shall we?” She put up her hand and ticked off the items with each finger. “We’re both consenting adults. Attracted to each other. It’s only for one night. And we move on. What’s the problem I’m missing?”
The waiter set down matching plates of Chilean sea bass baked under a hard salty crust. The Yukon potatoes were chopped and served tableside, dripping with oil, garlic, and herbs. She speared a flaky piece of fish and moaned over the gorgeous texture and crisp skin. “Damn, this is good,” she said.