Chapter 15
You have the sex. You bang all those feelings out. Donetta’s crude, but nonetheless insightful, words came back to Leila as she looked through her peephole and prepared to open the apartment door and let Carter in. She tried her best to push down her wild emotions, but she was having the hardest time. It seemed that in that moment, with him standing in her hallway, waiting to gain entry to her apartment, all she could think of was following Donetta’s advice and, for lack of a better term, jumping his bones.
“I’ve got to get it together,” she whispered to herself. “But what would be the harm in following Donetta’s advice and just going for it?” This final comment she directed at a now perplexed Ollie, who had stopped his barking and was looking at her as if he was trying to say, “Oh, come on. Get on with it and just open the damned door!”
Leila shook her head. “I know, I know. It would be a disaster all around. Damn it. I hate it when you’re right.” Ollie’s ears perked up as Leila shook her head. She’d been down that road before, and anyway, sex was not a part of this deal, whether she wanted it or not. She knew it would be a mistake.
“Excuse me? Are you by any chance talking to me, or is this a ‘you and you’ type of conversation?” Carter asked through the door.
Crap! Just how thin was her door, and how good was his hearing?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she yelled. “I’ll be just a minute.” Already she was kicking herself for calling Nia and playing the part of the hysterical wife. Yeah, she’d have a ton of explaining to do tomorrow about that one. But right now it was showtime.
Leila opened her apartment door with a flourish and a smile. “Welcome home, honey!” She said the words brightly and added a laugh so that it was clear to Carter that she was indeed joking with the honey tag.
The nervous side glance he gave her, while jumping out of the way of a once again barking Ollie, gave her pause and made her wonder if the joke had fallen flat. “Ollie, no! Stop! Go inside and be quiet. You know Carter. He’s a friend!” In that moment, Leila really hoped those words were true. She looked back up at Carter. “Too soon?” she asked, referring back to their rather testy afternoon.
He gave Ollie a cautious glance, then looked at her, offering up a small and frankly unconvincing smile. “No, not at all. We’re fine.” He looked down again as Ollie stood still at his feet between the hall and the doorway and gave him a low growl. “Now I know for sure your building has the best security,” Carter said. “I don’t think Ollie here likes me. Looks like I’m not getting in anytime soon. He’s not hearing you on the friend deal. Maybe I should stay at my place and we ease into this.”
Something about his words struck her, or maybe it was the easiness with which he said them. It wouldn’t be the first time a man had used her dog as an excuse to bail, either. No, it wasn’t the smoothest excuse, but as far as excuses went, it still worked. Not that she blamed him. She was sure his mother had given him a right earful that afternoon on the reasons why he shouldn’t continue with their arrangement. And why should she blame him? She’d already proven to be a lunatic hothead who flew off the handle with the slightest provocation. Why would he want to be married to someone like her? Fake or not.
That was okay. She’d play it cool and not show she was bothered. Why let him see she cared? Leila waved a hand. “Listen, I get it. It’s not as if this afternoon went well. So if you want out, take your out. Though you could have called me. You didn’t have to go out of your way and take a trip all the way down to—”
He stopped her rudely by putting his index finger to her lips. Ollie growled louder, and Carter put his hand back down slowly. “Down, boy.” This comment he directed Ollie’s way, and the damned dog complied once Leila said, “Shhh,” and then added, “Please.” As if that made it all right.
Carter looked at her. “You love getting a word in, don’t you? I get it. Though you don’t know me that well, I, too, like to get a word or two in here or there. Now, would you mind calling off this beast so that I can bring in my bags?”
Leila blinked hard and for the first time noticed the bag handle to the side of the door. “Fine. Well, why didn’t you say so first off?” She let out a huff and stepped back out of his way. “Ollie, chill it for a minute. He’s coming in.”
Leila watched as Ollie got her tone and followed her command, getting over his little power trip as he scurried around and let Carter carry in his small rolling suitcase and a larger garment bag. Over the top of the roller, he also had a large reusable shopping bag from a local city grocery. She swallowed as her heart began to pound. So this was happening. Despite all her relationships, she’d never once had a guy really move in. They had all just sort of crashed. First, they’d bring a toothbrush, and later they might add a tee or two, a pair of jeans, and maybe an errant pair of boxers, but none of them had ever come with a full suitcase. She snorted to herself. How ironic that the one who finally did was her husband, and he was moving his bags into her guest room.
Carter turned her way and handed her the shopping bag. He gave her a cute crooked smile that held a bit of caution. “It’s from my mother. After we left, she went a little crazy in my kitchen. Just a few meals to hold us over for a couple of days.”
Leila peeked in the bag to see dish after dish in carefully sealed and labeled plastic-ware. There was enough food in there to keep them stuffed for the better part of a week or more. Did Carter’s mother always cook for him like this? She looked back up at him, and as if guessing her thoughts, he said, “No, she doesn’t always cook for me.”
Leila tilted her head and raised a brow. “Really?”
He suddenly looked embarrassed. “Well, not every week.”
Leila gave him a slight grin. “Well, then, thank her for me. Why don’t you go and get settled? Did you eat yet? Because I haven’t, and I’m sure whatever’s in here is better than what I was going to order. You want me to heat you up something?”
Carter gave her a slightly surprised expression, as if he had expected a different response. But he nodded and started on his way to the guest room. “Sure. I mean if you don’t mind or I could just do it myself.”
Leila gave him a raised brow.
“Thanks. That would be great.”
Leila let out a long breath, trying her best to inject some normalcy into this most abnormal moment then headed to the kitchen, telling herself that she’d handled that well, all things considered. Now, if she could just figure out how to get her hormones to stop raging every time he got anywhere near her, she’d be all right. Only five months, give or take twenty-nine days, and the part of a lifetime could be hers.
* * *
Maybe if he just had sex with her, it would all be all right.
Carter laughed to himself at the ridiculous thought as he laid the garment bag out on the bed, then hoisted up his suitcase. Yeah, right. As if that was an option. Number 1) It wasn’t like he really had a chance in hell with her. Number 2) He was now officially in business with her and was going by his own rules, and it didn’t matter that the business just so happened to be that they were to appear to be in a relationship, to convince the public only. By all rights, Leila was now a colleague, and that took her out of the potential sex lane and landed her firmly in the “keep it clean” work lane, so . . . Number 3) What did it matter? Going back to number 1, it wasn’t like he had a chance in hell.
But, Carter thought, as he went over to the tall bureau and carefully placed the few changes of underwear he had brought with him, seeing her in that doorway, once again looking beautiful, fresh faced, and makeup free, he knew this assignment was going to be hard. And in the end, how was he really supposed to win?
That part still got to him. When Jasper had proposed the bet that night, it was late. And who knows? Maybe Carter’s mind had been foggy from the taste he’d taken of the horrific blue vodka. But what did he really expect from this little experiment? Sure, he got the part about him choosing a show or her choosing a show, but how was one supposed to bail on the whole marriage thing? What could he possibly do to make her want to bail? Did Jasper really expect him to go about wooing his most high-profile client, then let her down? Carter suddenly paused midway in the act of hanging up his suit in the little closet space she’d given him, noting that she’d shoved quite a few dresses of questionable length to the far end of the closet to accommodate him. He recalled Leila’s look of surprise as she fell into him at the airport, her breasts pressing against his body, and the way she had shown up unannounced at his office and had practically dared him to kiss her. Wait a minute. Did Jasper expect Leila to seduce him? Rein him in and then somehow send him packing, like she had her other dudes?
Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. She was rather welcoming tonight, although at the same time she had told him it was okay to walk away. So what was that all about? Carter looked toward the open doorway and Ollie; his smushed dog face and dark eyes almost taunted him in their mockery. “I’m screwed, aren’t I?” Carter said to the dog.
For his answer, all he got was Ollie’s behind, as the dog gave a surprisingly dignified huff and walked away. Yeah, he was screwed. Even the dog didn’t find him worthy of a backward glance. That was all right. Leila and Jasper would soon find out they had picked the wrong mark. He’d worked too hard for an opportunity like Sphere, and there was no way he was letting anyone, no matter how enticing or sexy she may be, jeopardize his chances of making it a success. She’d get through these six months, or at least close to it, with her reputation raised and the potential to be the next star, they both needed to make his Brentwood show a success. No, he wasn’t going to resort to seducing her, or he wouldn’t have to, since by the time this deal was over, she’d be eating out of his hands and begging to be given the lead on the Brentwood show.
* * *
“This is really delicious. Here. Are you sure you don’t want some more?”
Leila put out her hand and waved it in front of his mouth, offering him a bite of the crusty bread his mother had sent along with the chicken and vegetable stew she’d made. Leila had taken the bread and had sopped up some leftover sauce with it. She’d then taken her last piece of chicken and balanced it on top of the bread. In his seat across the kitchen island, Carter only shook his head as he looked at her, resembling a defiant toddler, and so she shrugged and ate the final bite herself.
She looked at him and smiled. “Wow! You’ve got to thank your mother for me. It’s been so long since I’ve had a home-cooked meal that I’d forgotten how much I actually missed it.” She paused and for the first time noticed how deep Carter’s frown went. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Am I boring you or keeping you from something?”
He blinked, as if coming back to life. “No. I’m sorry. It’s me. I just didn’t expect this,” he said, waving his hand over the island, at the spread-out mess of used dishes.
She frowned. “What? Eating, dinner, food?”
He leaned back, stretching a bit, while he rubbed his large hand over the back of his neck. Then he looked at her. Those dark eyes, which had seemed to see so much when he first looked at her, now looked at her like she was a stranger. “Yes, all of it. The dinner, the food. Honestly, Leila, I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this much.” He sucked in a breath as she waited.
What should he say? Maybe from him at least she’d find out what it was that had sent so many other men fleeing for greener pastures.
Finally, he finished his thought. “I don’t know . . . normalcy.”
Leila pulled back. “Normalcy?” She shook her head and picked up her dish, then brought it over to the trash to discard the bones, careful to keep the stray bits from Ollie. Carter got up to help, but Leila snatched the plate from his hand and gave him a tight smile. “I’ve got it.”
Carter gave the plate to her but then took the other dishes to the sink and proceeded to wash them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the word normalcy was so bad,” he said by way of apology.
“Well, it is. At least the way you are saying it.” Leila came over to his side and attempted to edge him out of the way of the sink. “I’ve worked too long in this business to be thought of as normal.” She pushed a hip against his own. He didn’t budge. Just let the dishwater fill in the sink as he added soap.
“I get that, and you’ve done a great job of it. No one would figure out that you’re the type who enjoys chilling at home with a chicken and rice dinner. I’m sure there are fans of yours camped out, waiting at Club Haze or one of the other hot nightspots.”
And with that, Leila’s hip checked him again. “Shows what you know,” she said, though he still wouldn’t budge. “I swear, you must live with your nose in the weekly gossip rags.” She looked over at him, angry that he would ruin a night that she was trying to make perfectly lovely and, yes, perfectly normal, despite the perfectly abnormal situation they found themselves in. “Now, would you please move? I’d like to rinse these dishes. I don’t know why you put in so much soap. I have a dishwasher, you know.”
He looked at her dead on, giving her that look of his that, she was starting to realize, meant she’d just said something he thought was totally ridiculous. It gave her the sudden urge to punch him in that smug face of his. “Why would you run the dishwasher and waste so much water when you have so few dirty dishes?” he asked.
Seriously? First, he criticized her for being normal, and now she was abnormal because she wanted to use a dishwasher. Leila looked at the sudsy water, then over at his pristine white collared shirt, still tucked into his perfectly pressed pants. Except for the fact that his cuffs were rolled up, you’d think it was 9:00 a.m., as the man still looked so good, so unruffled. All this did was remind her that she really hadn’t thought through the logistics of this “getting hitched” deal. What did she have in common with this man besides business? And even when it came to that, they were at odds. Here he was, standing there, being all perfectly himself, winged tips and all; and here she was in her bare feet, leggings, and a T-shirt, her hair by now, probably a mess about her head, looking more like she’d just rolled out of bed than a woman ready to launch her big acting career. How in the world was she supposed to convince this man to make her the lead in his next hit? Besides, right now he was looking at her like he could barely tolerate her.
It was utterly and completely infuriating. He was in her house, damn it! Without really thinking, or maybe after thinking way too much, Leila reached down into the sink, scooped up a handful of the sudsy water, and sloshed it right in Carter’s face.
Carter sputtered and jumped back. “What are you doing?”
Not answering, Leila stepped into his place at the sink and proceeded to rinse the dishes calmly, feeling somehow at ease, while he wiped himself down with a paper towel.
The ease she felt was short lived, though, and she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat when he went to unbutton his now spotted white shirt and was left standing there in just his slacks and a white tank. It was no matter, she told herself. She’d won that round.
Leila placed the dishes in the dishwasher and was about to hit START when Carter came up behind her. Close. Way too close. “Wait. Don’t start it yet. You forgot this,” he said, handing her a glass. Yes, she’d won that round.
Or had she? The heat from his body was almost measurable as it simmered around her. So he was going for a whole other tactic entirely, she thought as she stood there and slowly took the glass from his hand, their fingers just barely glancing off each other. “Thanks,” she said, her voice slightly breathy, and at that point, Leila didn’t know if it was intentional or natural. All she knew was that he was close, and he smelled like heaven dipped in just enough hell to make him interesting. Damn it. He wasn’t supposed to be interesting.
She let out a breath as she watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and the overwhelming urge to lean in just a little and stick out her tongue to give it a little taste was almost too much. But she didn’t. Instead, she took a step back. And turned away. Put the wayward glass in the dishwater from the most awkward position.
When she turned back around, he was on the other side of the counter taking a seat. He gave her a smile. The devil seemed to have backed down, and once again he was as docile as a lamb. “So,” he began. “This is it. Day one together under our belts.”
Leila nodded and gave him a halfhearted smile. “It would seem so.” She tilted her head. “I guess we did all right, all things considered.” She let out a sigh. “Sorry about your shirt.”
He shrugged. “It’s just a shirt. And I was being a little . . . judgy. It’s your place. I get that.”
“If you leave it with me, I’ll have it cleaned.”
Carter shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I have a place near work.” He looked at her with soft eyes. Those eyes that made her wonder if he knew how dangerous they really could be. “But thanks for the offer.”
There was an awkward silence, and his wistful smile broke her heart a little as she thought of the compromising that they both were engaging in. “Uh, do you want to watch TV? A movie or something?”
He shook his head. “Thanks, but no. I think I’m going to head to my room and get a little more work done.” He looked at her with a little more concern on his face. “That is, if you don’t mind. I understand this is our first real night together.” He grinned wider. “Wifey.”
Leila eked out a smile. “No problem, hubby. It’s not like we’re doing this for real.” She gave an awkward laugh but hoped he was convinced of it. “I mean, if we were doing this for real real, I’m sure we’d both have our minds on things that newlyweds do.” She laughed again and then silently told herself to zip it. This was getting more than awkward and becoming downright weird. Leila let out a cough. “You let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right across the hall.”
Carter gave her a nod. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he said while stretching his arms above his head, showing off the width of his chest. “I’m an early riser. I like to get into work by eight or eight thirty, and before that I work out. I’ll try to be quiet, though.”
She waved his words off. “It’s no problem. I have an early boot camp class with Nia tomorrow. With my appetite, I have to be diligent about my workouts. So I’ll be up early.”
He got up from his seat by the counter and came her way. “Well, good night.” For a second, she thought he might shake her hand. And he actually extended his hand over the top of Ollie’s head. The dog was seated on the floor at her feet, taking in the whole awkward exchange.
“Yes, good night,” she squeaked out, an unoriginal reply, and suddenly she felt much sadder than she should. She wished he’d just go off to his room and leave her to her emotions. But then he shocked her once again and took her hand, pulled her softly toward him as he took a step forward, gently took her in his arms, and kissed the top of her head tenderly.
“Don’t worry, Lei. We’ll be all right. We’re in this crazy thing together. I still don’t see either of us losing here.”
Leila took the opportunity to inhale deeply to cement the smell of him and the memory of this moment in her mind. To remember that he wasn’t thoroughly evil and there had once been something she liked about him. Finally, Leila pushed against his sides, and he let her go. She smiled, or attempted to. “You say that now. But we’ve only just begun. Just wait until tomorrow, when the circus is in full swing.”