Tempting Mr. Wrong (Wrong Man) (6 page)

Carly cleared her throat again. Once again, she was surprised when Lance caught her meaning.

“This one time I’ll clean up. Next time, it’s all on you.”

“Yay! Today is so fun.” With that, Mya dashed out of the room.

Carly agreed wholeheartedly with Mya. Today was fun. In fact, it was becoming the best day ever. A new job interview lined up, a happy niece, and a super-hot man standing right in front of her. As usual, Carly didn’t think. She acted. Crossing the room, she engulfed Lance in a big hug.

Clearly shocked at the gesture, he let out a whoosh of breath, but that just made her tighten her hold around his crazy-hard body. After a moment, she felt his arms fumbling behind her back, and then he finally sank into the gesture, wrapping his strong arms around her. He smelled so good, like fresh soap and something musky and masculine.

“You smell good,” he whispered, echoing her thoughts.

She stumbled back at the compliment and felt her eyes go wide.

His gaze fixated on something over her left shoulder. “I mean, considering I spent the last few years with a bunch of sweaty, dirty soldiers, it doesn’t take much to impress me in the aroma department.”

Oh. She didn’t know how to answer that, so she took a step toward the door. Pausing, she whispered, “Thank you. You know, for keeping Mya entertained today.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered.

But neither of them moved. Their eyes locked, and her breathing picked up. She could see his Adam’s apple moving up and down rapidly. The air felt as thick as the ruffly pink comforter on Mya’s bed.

Breaking the moment, she offered an embarrassed chuckle and walked out of the room, but she stopped outside the door, leaning against the railing on the staircase. What had just happened in there?

“Aunt Carly, I’m ready to make the ice cream!” Mya yelled from the bottom of the steps.

She snapped out of her stupor and headed to the kitchen. It didn’t take long to assemble the ice cream sandwiches, and once she had Mya settled in the family room with a coloring book and crayons, she started making dinner. But Carly was shaken. There was no other way around it.

Chewing on a fingernail, lost in her thoughts, she ignored the rice she was making—you didn’t need to stir risotto, right?—and cast her thoughts back to earlier in the day. Anna had insinuated that Carly could fall for Lance again. She cast her gaze toward the stairs. Unfortunately, her friend was right.

Lance was definitely easy on the eyes. “Please,” she muttered under her breath. The guy was a walking wet dream. He was extraordinarily attractive, and honestly, Carly would be content to stare at him all day. But until the hug upstairs, her only attraction to Lance had been, well, his looks.

Then she’d watched him with Mya. He’d been patient and funny. Despite his—what had she called it?—regimented attitude, he’d actually seemed fairly laid-back up there. Her heart melted when he talked to Mya about Chris, too.

She took a sip of her red wine, which did nothing to calm her. It wasn’t only the game or the way he’d acted with Mya. It was that hug, and that made no sense. Carly hugged everyone. She was a lean, mean hugging machine. Only that small gesture had never sent sparks down her arms or turned her legs into jelly before.

Her head was spinning just thinking about him. “Not good,” she whispered.

She moved to the oven, peering inside at the chicken strips that had been baking for…well, she couldn’t really remember when she put them in. That didn’t matter, though, right? Chicken needed to be cooked thoroughly. She wished she could deal with Lance as easily as she was making this dinner. And Chris used to make fun of her cooking skills.

Footsteps sounded on the staircase and Carly jumped. Lance was coming, and she didn’t want him to see her flushed or anything. She couldn’t let on that she’d been thinking inappropriate thoughts about him. The best thing for everyone would be for her to have zero contact with the hot soldier.

No more sexy sensations and tingly feelings.

A different sensation caught her off guard; this time it was pain that surged through her finger. “Ow, dammit.” Carly looked down to see that she’d tried to remove the pan of chicken strips out of the oven without one of those oven glove things. She dropped the pan on the counter just as Lance drew her to the sink and shoved her hand under cold water.

“You okay?” he asked as he turned back to the pan in question and placed it on top of the stove.

“I hope it didn’t leave a mark on the counter.”

“The counters are granite. They can take the heat. Besides, I’m not worried about the counter,” he said, his dreamy voice soothing her much more than the water washing over the blister that was already showing.

“You’re not?” she asked.

He shook his head as he returned to the sink. He got close to her. Real close. Close as in that clean, musky scent wafted over her heated skin.

Gently, Lance held her hand up to inspect it. She didn’t want to admit it, but as soon as he touched her, she got that same heady feeling. Carly glanced up and met his eyes. Her breath caught. If he weren’t holding onto her, she’d slide down to the floor.

“You said another bad word
,
” Mya called from the family room.

Lance’s lips curled up into a smile, but he didn’t release her hand. “Kid’s perceptive.” His breath fanned over her face.

“Yeah, well, someone has to pay for her college tuition. I should have enough swear money in a couple more months.” Carly told herself she only sounded breathy because she’d been slaving over a hot stove.

“How are you feeling?”

Like I could kiss you.
Carly blinked. “Oh, my hand?” She looked down at the red blister. “I’ll live. I’ve done worse.”

Lance shocked her when he brought her hand to his lips and placed a soft, light kiss next to the injury. Her stomach did a flip worthy of the entire Olympic gymnastics team.

“What are you doing?” Mya asked. She’d moved right next to Carly’s leg.

Carly jumped, yanking her hand from Lance, smacking it against the counter, and then wincing at the fresh pain. Still, she tried to keep it together. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

She gave Lance a sideways glance, and to her amazement, he was actually grinning.

“Your aunt hurt her hand. I’m helping fix her up.”

“Can I help, too?” Mya wondered.

“Sure,” Lance said, once again moving Carly’s hand under the running water. “Do you think you can get a Band-Aid for me?”

“Yes.” With that, Mya was off.

Clearly her keep-her-distance-from-Lance strategy wasn’t working. At this rate, she was bound to do a hell of a lot more than kiss him.

Chapter Five

If there was one thing Lance’s mother had taught him, it was to never bite the hand that feeds you. But in this case…

There was no denying he was happy to have someone cook for him. The problem was…Carly was clearly not the best chef, a point proven when he bit into a chicken tender and had to take a huge gulp of water to push it down his throat. Not the best chef was an enormous understatement, he amended. The problem was not that Carly wasn’t a kitchen master. The problem was that Carly couldn’t cook at all. Hell, he’d had day-old MREs better than this.

He snuck a peek at Mya who was pushing a soggy piece of broccoli around her plate. Poor kid. Then his gaze fell on Carly, who appeared oblivious to the state of her cooking. Actually, she looked really pretty. She’d pulled her hair back in a messy ponytail while she’d finished preparing the, um, “meal,” and a few strands had escaped to frame her face, a face that was flushed from the exertion of being in front of a hot stove. The extra color accentuated her green eyes and made them sparkle.

Currently pursed as she considered her glass of wine, her lips were pink and tempting. Too tempting. What would they taste like? Probably like something amazing and decadent. So, something completely opposite of this dinner. At that moment, Carly made a little noise that sounded like the most appealing thing he’d ever heard. He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable as his pants began to feel snugger. Where in the hell had those thoughts come from? Probably that hug upstairs. She’d definitely surprised him with it.

Even more surprising was how good it had felt. In his arms, she’d been soft and supple, and even though there was probably almost a foot height difference between them, she seemed to fit just right with him. Not to mention her flowery perfume. Or maybe it was lotion or shampoo or something. He had no idea. All Lance knew was that the woman smelled amazing, and it had taken every ounce of self-control not to take a little bite.

He spotted a framed photo of Chris on the shelf behind the table. Was it just him or was Chris giving him a hard stare from behind the sterling silver frame?
Okay, buddy, I know. She’s your sister.

Shoveling in a forkful of risotto, Lance almost choked. Holy fuck. The rice was hard as a rock. Had she even cooked this at all? Again, he glanced at his hostess. She reached over and wiped something off Mya’s face, the love emanating from her eyes evident. Lance hung his head and begrudgingly took another bite of rice. He felt like an ass. Carly was young and beautiful, and she’d been thrown into a horrible situation. Not that he considered Mya to be horrible. Quite the opposite, actually. It had shocked him how much he’d enjoyed his afternoon with her.

But Carly had to do this every single day. Plus, she was finding a job. Not to mention she was taking care of this big house—a house that Lance had started touring with his renovation eye. Chris and Gretchen did a great job with cosmetic fixes. There were a lot of fixes that needed to be made to make sure the old place was safe and secure.

Carly said something to make Mya laugh. The amusement in her eyes, the flush of her face, combined with her already tempting curves and all that fiery hair, had his stomach clenching.

Didn’t matter, he cursed himself. The fact remained, he wasn’t sticking around here forever. He still planned to tackle his bucket list, and starting something with any woman would be completely unfair. And this particular woman? She was off-limits. Big time. His gaze flicked up to Chris’s picture again and he gulped. He decided the safest course of action was to choke down more of this shitty food and keep his libido in check.

“This chicken isn’t good.”

Apparently, Mya didn’t get the memo on pretending to like Aunt Carly’s food.

“What?” Carly looked up from her red wine, her eyes widening as she turned to Mya.

Mya plunked her fork down. “Yucky.”

At that, Lance snickered. He couldn’t help himself. At Carly’s double take in his direction, he started cracking up. Something about how unaware Carly was to her own inept cooking mixed with the innocent way Mya announced her opinion. This kid was a riot. But when he saw Carly’s face fall, his laughter quickly faded, and his mother’s words replayed in his head.

Then the worst thing that could ever happen, happened. Carly’s eyes filled with tears. He froze. Lance didn’t do well with tears of any variety, but female tears were definitely a foreign and very scary situation. Mya’s eyes grew huge, and she tugged on her hair.

“Aunt Carly, what’s wrong?”

He heard the tremble in Mya’s voice. Oh no. Incoming, more tears. Before he could take action, Carly’s chair scraped against the floor, and she fled toward the back door.

After the door closed, he and Mya sat there for a few moments. Then Mya looked at him, the picture of innocence. “Is Aunt Carly going to cry? Is she mad at me?”

He saw her lower lip begin to tremble and sprang into action. He scooped up Mya and held her close. “No, of course not. She loves you too much. She’s just upset because…well, because…”

“’Cause why?” she mumbled against his chest.

“’Cause she was disappointed with the meal she made tonight. That’s all.”

Mya glanced down at his plate. “It’s gross.”

Couldn’t argue with the truth. “How about this? How about I go talk to her and make sure she’s okay. And you stay in here.”

“Do I have to finish my dinner?”

He wasn’t some kind of sadist, and he definitely didn’t condone child abuse. “No, I think you ate plenty. Besides, we have those amazing ice cream sandwiches to look forward to.” Thank God there was something edible that Carly couldn’t mess up. He winked at Mya.

“Yay. Can I watch TV?”

“Sure, kid. While you do that, why don’t you draw a picture for your aunt? I saw you with some crayons earlier. I bet a picture would make her feel happier.”

Mya’s face lit up, and she took off to gather her crayons and paper. One crisis averted. Now, on to the other. But as he crossed to the door, he knew this one wouldn’t be as easy as diverting a four-year-old’s attention to a new subject.

Lance walked through the door into the backyard. It smelled like freshly cut grass. Not from their yard, though.
Must be the neighbors
, Lance thought. But the reminder that someone needed to take care of the lawn gave Lance a job for the next day. The weather was still warm. Not surprising for North Carolina in September.

Carly was sitting on one of the swings hanging from the large swing set. With her head hanging down and the fact that she wasn’t that tall to begin with, she almost passed for a kid.

Except his body responded to her in a very grown-up, very adult way. Quietly, he crossed the yard and sat on the second swing. Or tried to. He’d apparently grown quite a bit since the last time he’d played on a swing set.

Carly didn’t speak, and Lance had no earthly clue what he should say. So he decided to offer his specialty: silent support. She broke the quiet a few minutes later. “I’m sorry I lost it in there. Is Mya okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s coloring a picture for you.”

She smiled slightly. “It was only me and my brother growing up, you know.” Her words held a defensive tone.

“Okay,” Lance said.

“I mean, our parents were both military. I imagine Chris told you that.”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“We spent a lot of time moving from house to house. We were like these little gypsy children that traveled to our aunts’ and uncles’ places and then to our grandparents’ house, and then back again. Sometimes we got to live with our parents, too. Or at least one of them.”

Chris hadn’t mentioned that part. Lance supposed he should have figured it out. Where else were the two of them supposed to live while their parents served? Tough childhood. He’d moved once when he was ten. It had sucked.

“Sounds rough.”

“Sometimes it was. Sometimes it was fun. We got to see a lot of places, meet a lot of different people.”

Lance shifted on the uncomfortable swing. “My mom always said that kids needed the three
S’s
: schedules, stability, and set activities.”

Carly reached over and gave him a playful pinch. “That explains a lot.” She twisted her swing a couple times, paused, and then let it unwind, spinning her in circles. “I’m not complaining,” Carly said. “Please don’t think I’m complaining.”

He studied her. This poor kid was in way over her head. But instead of crying or yelling or bemoaning the fact that at twenty-six she’d become a mom, a cook, and a housekeeper overnight, she didn’t want to complain?
Hell
.
Complain away
, he thought.

“I think if you want to take a moment to bitch or vent, I’m all ears.”

Meeting his gaze, she waited a moment, her mouth set in a stubborn position. Lance could see the indecision in her eyes. “Seriously,” he told her. “If I were you, I’d be cursing up one side of this yard and crying my eyes out down the other. Think I can’t take it? Think I haven’t heard worse?” he asked.

“It’s not that…”

“Hey, it’s just me and you out here, and I’m not in the habit of judging.”

After a quick glance around the empty backyard, she blew out a long breath. “Our relatives were great. They really were. And when Mom and Dad were around, they were amazing. But I guess with all of that upheaval and chaos…” She trailed off.

“You had a hard time?” he guessed. Some people may have labeled his mother a tiger mom, but maybe she’d been onto something. With Carly’s erratic upbringing, that’s probably why she had been so close with her brother.

“No, I was going to say we never learned to cook.” They both laughed. “Chris and I always joked that we’d have to marry chefs because neither of us had a clue how to make anything. I mean, I can do mac and cheese. From a box,” she said. “Chris could make scrambled eggs. That was about the extent of it.”

“Mac and cheese, some nice fluffy eggs, what else do you need in life?” he asked and was happy when her lips twitched.

“Well, Chris got lucky. He found a chef, a wonderful mother, and a beautiful partner all with Gretchen. They were best friends,” she finished quietly.

Something about her words or maybe the emotion simmering right under the surface had a big ball forming in his throat. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I haven’t been so lucky yet. With finding the chef part, I mean,” she added.

She’d said it flippantly, but as soon as the words left her mouth, Carly cast her eyes downward and leaned her head against the chain of the swing.

He didn’t know where the words even came from—maybe a hunch—but he said, “It must have been lonely growing up like that.”

She shrugged. “At least I had Chris.”

“And now you don’t.”

Her breath hitched, but he noticed her eyes remained dry. She was a fighter, he would give her that. But maybe, while he was in town, he could help her feel a little less alone.

“How about this?” he asked and noticed her meet his gaze, curiosity in her eyes. “Why don’t we make dinner together tomorrow?”

“What’s that?”

“Oh well, see, dinner is one of the three main meals we eat each and every day.”

Reaching over, she batted him with her hand. “Surprisingly, I am familiar with the concept of dinner.”

“What occurred inside that house earlier tonight would not be considered dinner by most human standards.”

“Shut up.” But she was grinning as she said it.

He nodded. “So tomorrow. Me, you, kitchen, five o’clock. Be there.”

“Really?”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m not much to behold in the kitchen, either, but I do have a couple recipes that I break out from time to time.”

“You want to cook with me?”

“Hey, I figure between the two of us we should be able to make something edible for the kid.”

Carly swung her legs around so the swing turned and she was facing him. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“Now just to let you know, the kitchen is that room with all the food-making equipment.”

“Oh.” She played along. “You mean that place where all the takeout menus live?”

“See, I knew you’d be a fast learner.”

She laughed, and her whole face lit up. Her eyes were so mesmerizing. The sun had almost set, and even in the fading light, the emerald green color called to him. He found himself moving his swing closer to hers. But just then the sound of pots and pans banging in the kitchen had them both looking back toward the house.

“I think Mya is taking matters into her own hands,” he said.

“More likely she’s stacking pots and pans so she can get to those ice cream sandwiches we made a couple hours ago. Kid has a sweet tooth like I’ve never seen before. Even worse than mine.”

Even though she laughed, sadness lingered. He could feel it hanging in the air the way the swings were hanging from the swing set.

“Come here.” When she didn’t budge, he held out his hand. Her eyes flicked down to it and then quickly back up at his face. After a few moments of consideration, she put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

For a long moment he simply stood there, engulfing her tiny hand in his larger one. Her skin was so soft, like a delicate silk. Then, without thinking if it was the right thing to do, he folded her into a hug, a hug that lasted longer than necessary. He’d meant to comfort, like an older brother would, only he began to run his hands down her back in a very non-sibling-like manner. There was nothing sisterly about Carly.

Sisterly, brotherly: that led to thoughts of Chris.
This is wrong. This is wrong.
Then why did it feel so right?

Sighing, her hands traveled to his stomach, and she turned her face into his chest. He groaned quietly, barely a rumble in his chest, and tipped her face up to his. Lust, hot and wild, swirled in her eyes, eyes that had changed from that bright emerald hue to a cloudy, stormy green.

Lance didn’t need more of a signal than that. Without second-guessing, he took her mouth, slowly, gently. Almost instantly upon touching his lips to hers, he felt a shock to his system. He could taste the wine on her lips, fruity and appealing. Her flowery scent wrapped itself around him, enticing him to get closer. Wanting more, he tilted his head so he could go in deeper. She pressed herself against him, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. He let out a groan. It was possessive and raw. He moved his lips over hers, enjoying everything about the way she kissed. He nipped at her bottom lip and felt her fingers clench his shirt as she stood on tiptoes to get even closer. When her lips parted, his tongue took advantage of the moment by forging ahead and mingling with hers.