Risk Is a Four-Letter Word (3 page)

"You just need to get out more."

Carrie twisted around to stare at her sister in
disbelief. "You're joking, right? I spend most of my time shopping."

"That doesn't count. That's for your
job," Olivia retorted. "I meant out with friends.
Meeting
guys."

Carrie sighed. "I'm too tired at night to
go gallivanting around, trying to hook up with one loser after another. They
take one look at my face and my boobs, and the next thing I know, they're
pissed off when they find out I have a brain, too. It's not worth it
anymore." She put her arm over her eyes, trying to relax. "I'm happy
with my job. I'm happy with you and the kids as my family. I don't need
anything more."

Olivia fell silent for a long moment. Carrie
listened to the sound of children playing happily around them, wishing her
sister would stop with the matchmaking ideas.

"I know you enjoy being an interior
decorator. And I know you interact with a lot of people. That doesn't mean you
aren't still lonely," Olivia said finally.

Carrie
shifted,
her
nose prickling. That comment hit a little close to the bone. "I'm okay.
You shouldn't worry about me. And I love living next door to you." She
opened her eyes and sat up to look at her sister. "You and your wonderful
husband and my awesome nieces and nephew keep me from being lonely. I'm glad I
moved in next to you." She grinned slyly. "Although I have to admit, those
townhouse walls are a bit thin."

Olivia smiled. "Stubborn. You're really
stubborn. And please don't tell me you can hear us. What I don't know can't
hurt me."

Carrie laughed and lay back down.
"
Youbetcha
."

Chapter Two

The second time Zeke met Carrie, he and Eric
were wandering around the
Museum
of
Modern Art
in
Manhattan
.
He loved coming here. For some reason, the artwork in
MoMA
spoke to him, more so than the paintings in other museums. Maybe it was growing
up the way he did. When his father drank too much, Zeke would lose himself reading
an art book. Later he began to whittle chunks of balsa wood. He loved creating
beautiful things with his hands. He loved finding inspiration in other artists'
work.

"Why do I always let you talk me into
coming with you here?" Eric whined as he trailed behind. Eric did
not
like museums. Even though he was as much of an artist as Zeke, he approached
beauty from a different perspective, preferring to wrestle it into submission
rather than coax it.

"Because I'm your best friend and you had
nothing else to do today. Stop complaining. You sound about two years old. It's
embarrassing." Zeke walked to the stairs leading from the main level up to
the second floor atrium, dodging a group of high school students and a family
of four on the way. From there, he headed to the
escalators
.
He loved the way this building was put together. He could see multiple levels
as the steps carried him up which was why he always started on the fifth floor.
Also, his favorite Wyeth painting was up there. So were the bathrooms.

"I hate these escalators," Eric said
behind him. "They
creep
me out."

Zeke smiled to himself. Eric hated escalators.
He
especially
hated the ones in this
building. Zeke knew this.
Everyone's
gotta
have a hobby
, he thought.
Tormenting Eric is mine.

"Next time we can take the elevators,
right? I mean, you promised this trip would be quick. I'm getting hungry."

"Oh, my God, you're such a baby. You just
ate a donut so you're not starving." Zeke struggled to keep the laughter
out of his voice. "Why did I drag you here with me?"

"Because art is boring and I make you
laugh," Eric replied, his voice light and teasing. "And you love
me."

"Oh, sure, I love when you bitch and moan.
How could I live without
that
for a
few short hours?" Zeke walked onto the next escalator. He needed to use
the men's room.

"Why do we always have to start at the
top?" Eric's voice was annoyingly penetrating, despite the noise of the
crowd. Zeke hunched his shoulders. This was how Eric got back at him.
Nothing like playing stupid to drive Zeke out of his mind.
Maybe if he ignored him, Eric would shut up.

"I'm dragging you to the next car show. I
swear I am," Eric continued. "You'll like it.
Sweet
Mustangs.
Tricked out Chevys.
The occasional hot chick."

Zeke sighed. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."
He stepped off the escalator onto the fifth floor and headed to the restroom.

"Wait. What?" Eric grabbed him by his
jacket. "Did you actually agree to come with me to a car show?"

Zeke tried not to grind his teeth.
"Maybe.
If you're nice to me."

Eric smiled, happiness lighting up the strong
lines of his face.
Shit.
Whenever
Eric smiled like that, Zeke found himself doing whatever his friend wanted.

"Yes! You said it out loud. Let everyone here
be my witness!" Eric let go of Zeke's shirt and spun around, right hand
outstretched. "On this lovely day of October 14th, 2012, my best friend,
Zeke Griffin, promised he would come with me to a car show."

Several people gave them funny looks, but an
older man standing by the water fountain flashed a thumbs-up. Zeke wanted to
choke his so-called best buddy.
"Eric, seriously."

Eric grinned and slung an arm around Zeke's
shoulders. "You are the best friend a guy could ever have," he said
quietly into Zeke's ear.

Zeke repressed a shiver with the ease of long
practice.
Eric has no idea you are bi
,
he told himself firmly.
Get a grip
.
"I guess I owe you since you always come to
MoMA
with me when I ask." He gave Eric a penetrating glare. "Of course you
complain bitterly every time, so you can expect the same exact treatment from
me at the next car show."

Eric laughed good-naturedly and hugged him
closer, obviously not taking his warning seriously.
Just you wait. I'll whine so much you'll want to kill me by the end of
car-show-day
, Zeke thought as he relaxed into his friend's embrace. He
opened his mouth, about to deliver another disgruntled retort when he caught
sight of a familiar face. He froze.
Was
that--?

"Zeke
? "
Eric squeezed his arm.
" What's
wrong? I was only
playing around, you know that, right?"

"No, no it's not that." Zeke stared
hard at the woman standing in front of Christina's World, his favorite
painting. He pointed at her. "She looks like the woman from the
beach."

"What woman from the beach?"

Zeke rolled his eyes.
"The
woman who lost her bikini top.
There is
no way
you could have forgotten that so don't play dumb. What was
her name?" He kicked his brain into gear, a difficult prospect with Eric
pressed all along his side. "Carrie. Her name was Carrie. She had gorgeous
blue eyes and--"

"Oh! Yeah, the one with the big--"

"Don't say it out loud! Jesus, Eric,"
Zeke muttered.

Eric chuckled. "Well, the nakedness kind
of made an impression on me."

Zeke coughed. "Yeah, well, that happens
when your brain is the size of a pea."

"Hey!"

"And when it sits below your belt,"
Zeke couldn't resist adding.

Eric shoved at him playfully, but Zeke ignored his
friend and moved closer to the woman. He was about to tap her shoulder when she
stepped back and her elbow socked him in the gut. He lurched to the side,
trying to catch his breath. Damn, her bones were sharp!

"Oh,
my gosh
, I'm
so sorry!" she exclaimed, spinning around. She rushed over and he got a
good look at her face. It was definitely Carrie. "Are you okay?"

Zeke nodded, trying to catch his breath. His
stomach was still knotted up, from the hit or from meeting her again, he wasn't
sure. At any rate, he was looking right at her when she realized who he was.
Her eyebrows lifted and she gasped, flushing. Her blue eyes widened.

"You!"

Zeke smiled as he finally got control of his
breathing. "That's not my name." Eric came up behind him.

"That's not my name either," Eric
teased.

Carrie bit her lip. She looked wonderful. Her
deep blue eyes matched the scarf she'd knotted around her neck. Her long dark
sweater brought out the pretty brown of her hair. Leggings hugged her hips and black
boots emphasized her sexy calves.

"Zeke.
I remember," Carrie said. Her gaze shifted to Eric. "And
you're Eric. I didn't forget. I'm just surprised to see you here."

"I guess it's unlikely we'd run into each
other in the middle of a city in a completely different state. Maybe the
universe is trying to tell us something." Zeke stepped closer and fingered
her scarf. The crazy attraction he'd felt at the beach was still there.
"You look lovely."

Carrie smiled. "You don't look so bad
yourself."

Her eyes trailed down his body and Zeke wondered
what she thought of his brown canvas jacket.
The ripped
jeans.
Eric was wearing Zeke's favorite sweater today, the green one
that brought out the hazel in his friend's eyes. The one Eric stole from
his
closet, not that Zeke minded. Eric
looked great in it. Carrie eyed him then Eric, her flush deepening. Oh yeah,
she liked the way they looked.

"What brings you to
MoMA
?"
Eric asked her.

She lifted a shoulder. "I'm working with a
client here in the city in a couple hours, but I got in early. Whenever I have
time to kill, I come here to look at Christina." She motioned to the
painting behind her. "It's my favorite."

"I like it, too," Zeke said. Would
she freak if he moved closer? There were a lot of people around. He stepped
close enough to smell her perfume.
Honeysuckle.
Yummy.

"Why are you here in the middle of a
Wednesday?" Carrie asked them curiously.

Eric laughed. "Mr. Artist here drags us
into
MoMA
as often as possible."

Carrie's expression lightened. "Oh? You're
an artist?"

Zeke shrugged. "I make furniture. Eric and
I make furniture together, actually, but I like to paint, too."

She pursed her lips and Zeke wanted to touch
them, thumb them until she relaxed. "What kind of furniture?"

"High-end stuff.
We work with some exotic hardwood and steel. I do most of the
welding, Zeke works with the wood," Eric explained.

Zeke tried to hide the happiness he felt at
Eric's pride in their business, but didn't think he did a very good job of it.

Carrie's face sharpened with interest.
"I'm an interior designer. I'd love to see some of your stock, if
possible."

Eric grinned and Zeke's heart thumped at the
sight.
Damn
. The man did things to
him.
It really isn't healthy standing
between these two
, Zeke thought. Eric was the embodiment of what Zeke liked
in a guy: strong, confident,
good
-natured.
And Carrie seemed to be what he most liked in a woman: beauty,
brains, and creativity all woven up together.
It was a perfect storm of
sexual and intellectual attraction. Zeke felt a little lightheaded.

"We have a small studio out in northern
New Jersey
, in an old
barn. We do most of our work there. But we also have a website where you can
look at our stuff." Eric reached into his pocket, rubbing against Zeke's
hip as he went for a business card. "Here's our information."

Carrie took it and tucked it into her bag.
"Thanks." She pursed her lips and looked around. "I know it's
not even close to lunch, but I'm hungry. Would you two like to grab a bite with
me?"

Zeke grinned, delighted and completely unable
to hide his pleasure.
I probably look
like a dork
, he thought, but that didn't stop him from accepting her
invitation.
"Yeah.
We'd love to." He didn't
ask Eric beforehand. Zeke knew his friend would never turn down the opportunity
to eat with a gorgeous woman, particularly one as interesting as Carrie.

"Great. I just need to use the
restroom," she said, pointing behind her. She tucked a long strand of hair
behind her ear. Her eyes dropped from Zeke's face to his groin, as if by
accident. Zeke thought maybe it was unconscious on her part, except she did the
same thing with Eric, looking him up and down. Then she licked her lips. Eric
tensed beside him at the exact moment Zeke's crazy idea took hold. He shifted
closer.
I hope she doesn't slap me
,
he thought.
Just one kiss and I'll let
her go.
The noise from the crowd in the museum receded into the background
as he kept his eyes on her. She glanced at his face, frowning slightly. Zeke
moved in some more. She blinked and turned slightly, but didn't edge away.