Scandalous Passion

“Where are we going?”

“A new restaurant.” The car’s powerful engine rumbled to life. At the touch of a button, the garage door lifted, letting in the evening light. Carter’s hand nudged her knee as he reached for the gearshift. Phoebe moved her leg out of the danger zone, but not soon enough to prevent the tingle traveling upward. She pressed her knees together.

Stick to the agenda, Phoebe. Twelve dates. No dalliance. No broken promises. No broken heart.

Carter’s house was one of three stately older homes on the secluded forest-surrounded street. “When and why did you join the Marine Corps? I thought you hated that vagabond life.”

“After graduation. For the job training.”

He’d graduated days after they’d said goodbye. Had their breakup caused him to have a change of heart about settling down? He didn’t elaborate as he took the winding road downhill with curve-hugging speed until he reached the stop sign at the main thoroughfare.

“And now you’re out,” she prompted.

“Yes.” The car shot forward into a break in traffic with a burst of leashed power.

“Why not become a lifer like your father? He should be way up there in rank now.”

The bunching of his jaw muscle was his only response.

“Carter, you forced these outings. The least you can do is converse politely.”

He cut her a quick look. “My father has been promoted to Lieutenant General. That’s three stars. I received a medical discharge after I blew out my knee on my last mission.”

She remembered the scars. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. It was time to get out of the military. I was in a holding pattern that had nothing to do with where I wanted to go with my life.”

His reply hit a little too close to home. She shifted in her seat. “Do you work with Sawyer? I remember the two of you once talked about opening a company together.”

“No. I fly solo.”

She didn’t think he referred only to business.

Minutes later Carter’s car swept up the circular drive of a stone castle-style structure complete with twin octagonal turrets. A valet rushed to take his keys and another opened Phoebe’s door just in time for Carter to hand her out. Carter’s warm fingers wrapped around hers, sending a current of electricity up her arm. It always had been that way between them. She exhaled a pent-up breath when he released her, but her relief was short-lived when his palm settled against her spine. A shiver of awareness inched its way up her vertebrae.

She tightened her grip on her purse. “Wasn’t this a private residence when we were students at the university?”

“The family fell on hard times and sold it. Old money surrenders to new. The current owner turned the estate into a restaurant with dancing. He wants to work up to hosting weddings, but for now you might want to tell the senator it’s a good place for private parties.”

Carter seemed to know an awful lot about the owner’s plans. But Phoebe had no intention of dancing with Carter tonight or of telling her grandfather that she’d been on a date. The admission would lead to an inquisition and a discussion of the suitability of her escort. Grandfather was eager to marry her off—in a politically advantageous match, of course.

Phoebe paused in the palatial foyer. She could easily picture a bride sweeping down the wide marble staircase. An attractive blond hostess interrupted the mental image by greeting Carter by his first name then escorting them to a table in a private corner of what probably had been the formal drawing room of the private residence. Phoebe felt a spark of something that was certainly not jealousy each time the woman flashed Carter a blinding smile.

Candlelight flickered on the widely spaced tables and from wall sconces, giving the room an intimate air. Silverware and crystal glittered like diamonds in the soft light. Carter pulled out her chair and Phoebe noticed the single long-stemmed red rose on the snowy tablecloth in front of her chair. She sat and lifted the bud to inhale the heady fragrance. If this had been a true date she would have been bowled over by the romantic setting. But this wasn’t a date, and she wasn’t going to let herself be impressed. Much, she added grudgingly.

Carter seemed completely at ease with the opulent surroundings and deferential treatment. Twelve years ago he wouldn’t have been. If the hostess’s greeting hadn’t clued Phoebe in to the fact that Carter had been here before then his ordering without consulting the menu would have. Her menu didn’t list prices, but she didn’t need them to know this dinner would be a far cry from the economical meals and picnics of their past. They’d never shared expensive dinners because Carter couldn’t afford them and he’d refused to let her pay. The wine steward arrived, consulted with Carter and then departed.

Was the entire point of this evening to show her that he was now comfortable in her world? If so, why did he think she’d care? As if he’d read her thoughts he reached across the table and trapped her hand beneath his. Warmth traveled up her arm.

“It’s good to see you again, Phoebe.” His husky baritone and intent gaze made her stomach muscles quiver, and when his thumb stroked the inside of her wrist, she forgot to breathe. “Why don’t we go into the next room and dance until our meal is ready?”

The thought of being in Carter’s arms again made her light-headed, then an idea hit her with an ice-cold shower of sobriety. Did he think she’d tumble easily into his bed because of their past relationship? Well, he’d better think again. She wasn’t a wide-eyed innocent any longer. She’d been wined and dined by some of the slickest politicians and political wannabes in the nation’s capital—many of whom thought the best way to influence her grandfather was through her bed. She’d made a mistake once and become engaged before figuring out that she wasn’t the main attraction in the relationship. The experience had been enough to make her question the motives of every man who asked her out.

Anger bubbled in her blood. How could Carter believe her to be so easy, so gullible? She concealed her annoyance with a polite smile the way her grandmother had taught her and extracted her hand. “I don’t care to dance, thank you. How long have you been back in Chapel Hill?”

To give him credit, her failure to melt in her chair didn’t throw him. “Three years. What about you? Where do you live?”

“I divide my time between Raleigh and D.C.”

The wine arrived and Carter went through the tasting ritual. “Why are you still working with your grandfather?” he asked as soon as the steward departed.

Phoebe shifted in her seat and reached for her glass. “He needs me.”

“And if his presidential bid fails, what will you do?”

Good question. The year before her grandmother passed away she’d made Phoebe promise to look out for her grandfather if anything ever happened to her. Phoebe often wondered if Gran had had a premonition that undiagnosed ovarian cancer would take her life so swiftly. After the funeral, Phoebe had put her plans on hold to help her grandfather through his grief. The months she’d expected had lapsed into years until Phoebe had been delaying her own plans for so long that she’d finally quit making them.

Phoebe was in one of those holding patterns Carter had mentioned earlier. Not that she regretted the years at her grandfather’s side. She’d learned a lot, met world leaders and become very good at her job, so good in fact that she could work almost anywhere she wanted…. But if her grandfather’s presidential bid failed, Phoebe didn’t want to work for another politician. The joy of finding the poetry in the speeches had long since faded, and the appeal of twisting words to rouse patriotism or to hide blunders and weaknesses was gone. What kept her going was the knowledge that the work she did as part of her grandfather’s team made a difference.

What would she do with her life once her grandfather retired? The question rattled her, but it deserved thoughtful consideration when she wasn’t seated across from such a distraction.

She sipped her wine to alleviate the dryness in her mouth caused by fear of the unknown. Once upon a time, exploring the unfamiliar with Carter had thrilled her. Had she changed so much in the passing years? Had she become too much of a coward to try something new? “We’re anticipating a successful campaign. Should the outcome not go as projected then I’ll explore my alternatives.”

“Time has a way of getting away from you, Phoebe. If you don’t make decisions, the choices will dwindle until there are none.”

She wanted to ask what had made him so bitter, but refrained because she didn’t want to become involved. Get the pictures. Get out. “You’re suggesting I live for the moment? Just selfishly grab whatever I want with both hands and damn the consequences?”

The way her parents had.

He probably thought she’d grab him if he played his cards right. Although the thought tempted her, she wasn’t young and foolish any longer, and she didn’t do casual sex, especially not in Washington where who was sleeping with whom was the gossips’ favorite topic.

His gaze held hers. “I’m saying, figure out what you want and plot a strategy to achieve it before it’s too late, unless of course, you want your grandfather to keep calling the shots for you. What do you want, Phoebe?”

Knotting her fingers in her lap, she snuffed out the question before she could answer it. It didn’t really matter what she wanted. Her course had been set years ago. She would continue to write her grandfather’s speeches and act as his hostess as she had since graduation from Georgetown University. If she didn’t feel any enthusiasm for the plan, then the pictures were to blame. Once she no longer had to worry about them turning up in the press to humiliate her and anger her grandfather, she could get excited about the possibility of a whistle-stop tour of the country and later, living in the White House. In the meantime, she had research to do before she could begin drafting her grandfather’s declaration of candidacy speech.

She pasted on her best campaign smile. “I want my grandfather to win the election. He is by far the best candidate. Let me tell you why.”

Sortie one. A draw.

Carter folded his napkin at the end of the meal and battled frustration. Strategic withdrawal. Reevaluate the strategy. Approach from a different flank.

Phoebe had installed razor wire around herself in the past twelve years. She’d carefully sidestepped all personal questions and remained immune to every suggestive comment or look. Seducing her wouldn’t be as easy as he’d expected.

A heavy hand descended on his shoulder. Carter jerked his gaze upward and found Sam at his shoulder. He rose and returned Sam’s salute. “Great chow as usual, Sam.”

“You’re too kind, Captain,” Sam said in a voice heavily laced with sarcasm. “Who’s the pretty lady?”

Phoebe’s eyes widened as she took in all six feet, six inches of his forty-year-old, hard-as-nails, kick-your-ass-and-enjoy-it friend. Sam would be one scary dude to run into in an alley, and he didn’t look like any chef Carter had ever encountered, but he’d been a damned good Marine and a real team player.

“Phoebe, this is Sam Kalas. He kept our platoon fed. His cooking has been known to make a four-star general get on his knees and beg for seconds. Sam’s the owner and chef of this place.”

“Part owner,” Sam corrected. “Without your bucks to back up my cooking, I’d still be slinging military rations and living in the barracks. Instead I get to cook food that looks and tastes good and live upstairs in these swanky digs.”

Phoebe shot a surprised glance in Carter’s direction and extended her hand to Sam. “My compliments to the chef.”

“Thanks, ma’am.” Sam’s black eyes pinned Carter. “When Suzie told me you’d called for a reservation for two, I decided to come out to see who’d make you break your fast.”

Carter’s ears burned under Phoebe’s speculative gaze. So he didn’t date much these days. Big deal. CyberSniper came first. But Sam had handed him the perfect opportunity to pay Phoebe back for making their past dates a dirty secret. He let his mouth tip in a smile his corps buddy wouldn’t misunderstand. “Phoebe’s an old friend.”

Sam’s speculative gaze fixed on Phoebe’s red cheeks. He nodded. “Nice meeting you, ma’am. I’ve been working on a new dessert recipe all week. Can I tempt you folks?”

“We really have to run,” Phoebe replied before Carter could. “But thank you.”

Carter considered the potency of Sam’s concoctions and weighed the odds of salvaging the evening. Curiosity urged him to try any means at his disposal to see if Phoebe’s kiss still packed the old punch he remembered. “How about a carry-out?”

A smartass grin spread across Sam’s face. “Whatever you want, Captain.”

With another sharp salute, Sam returned to the kitchen.

Phoebe’s jaw and spine looked rigid enough to snap. “I won’t have dessert with you.”

The kiss Carter wanted looked like a slim possibility, but he’d always enjoyed fighting against the odds. “What makes you think I’m willing to share? But you don’t know what you’re missing, Phoebe. Sam’s desserts are like sex in a spoon.” He winked. “A smart woman would reconsider.”

Three

“Try a little sin, Phoebe. You’ll like it.”

Phoebe shifted on her feet in the moonlight-flooded driveway of Carter’s home and tried to ignore her body’s traitorous response to the invitation in his huskily murmured words. Every self-preservation instinct within her screamed, Run, but she couldn’t. Carter had her caged between his broad chest, the open door of his car and the seat she’d just vacated. A balmy evening breeze caressed her sensitized skin.

He passed the open container holding the rich-smelling chocolate dessert beneath her nose and her mouth watered.

“What do you know? Sam included a couple of disposable spoons.” Carter scooped up a bite of the creamy concoction and lifted it to Phoebe’s lips.

She shouldn’t be tempted by the man or his decadent dessert. She’d never forgive herself for succumbing to the first, and her hips would pay the price for sampling the second. But this entire escapade with Carter was ill-advised and thorny, and she deserved a reward for holding strong against his potent charm all evening. It hadn’t been easy.

She opened her mouth and Carter fed her. Dark chocolate, sweet cherry and rich cream flavors merged on her tongue. She closed her eyes in ecstasy. Heaven. Bliss. No, better. Rolling the tastes around in her mouth, she searched for the perfect words to describe the dessert without success.

She licked her lips. “That is truly amazing.”

Carter set the container on the roof of his car and leaned closer until only inches separated their faces. His breath fanned her cheek and the look of intent in his eyes made her insides quiver.

“Almost as good as sex,” he said a whisper away from her mouth. “Want to come in and share?”

Phoebe cursed her weakening knees and the way the fine hairs on her body rose to attention. My God, he was playing her and her stupid hormones were falling for it. She ignored the rapid pounding of her heart, blocked his forward progress with a hand to his chest and glared at him.

“Would you quit the Casanova routine already?”

He observed her through narrowed eyes. “You think I’m trying to put the moves on you?”

She arched an eyebrow and aimed for sarcasm, but it wasn’t easy when her body ached for what he offered. “Aren’t you? The question is why?”

His jaw shifted, then he rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands into his pants pockets, giving her some much-needed space. “I’m curious. Aren’t you?”

“About what?” she asked even though she suspected she knew the answer.

“Whether it would be as good between us as it used to be.”

Her stomach plunged to her pumps. Yes, the thought had crossed her mind a few times since making the decision to seek out Carter, but she had no intention of satisfying her curiosity. The last time she had, he’d stolen her heart and shattered it into tiny irreparable fragments.

She forced a casual shrug and lied through a dismissive smile. “Not really. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get home. Enjoy your dessert.”

Shoving past him, Phoebe beat a hasty retreat to her car. She fumbled with her seat belt until it clicked and glanced at Carter one last time before throwing the car in reverse. And then she remembered she’d forgotten to collect. Argh. She shoved the gearshift back into park, rolled down her window and stuck out her hand.

“The picture,” she called, and wiggled her fingers. “Please get the picture. I’ll wait here.”

Carter sauntered toward her. His casual stride contradicted the stiff set of his shoulders and the determined line of his jaw made her skin prickle in alarm. She shifted uneasily in her seat. Carter reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a photo. A voice in Phoebe’s mind shrieked in panic. He’d had one of their pictures in his pocket all evening. What if it had fallen out? What if—

And then Carter leaned down and folded his arms on her open window, choking off her thoughts with his nearness. “You really shouldn’t rush off.”

“I’m expecting a call,” she said through teeth clamped together in an I’ll-be-polite-even-if-it-kills-me smile.

He ignored her open hand and ducked through the window. Phoebe leaned back against the seat to give him as much room as possible as he reached across her body to tuck the picture into the outside pocket of the purse she’d set on the seat beside her. His scent surrounded her. Instead of depositing the photo and withdrawing from the car as she’d expected, he cupped her face in his warm hand. Before she could react, Carter’s lips were on hers. Hot. Soft. Insistent.

Phoebe’s breath lodged in her lungs. Heat steamed her skin. She wanted to push him away, but couldn’t seem to instigate the action.

The magic is still there.

He sipped from her lips, lifting and nuzzling again. His thumb stroked over the pulse racing at the base of her throat and then traced her collarbone to the V of her neckline. Her nipples rose in anticipation of his touch. The slick heat of his tongue caressed her bottom lip, slipped past to tease her sensitive inner flesh and to skate over her clenched teeth. Overwhelming sensations poured down on her, stealing sanity and eroding her willpower. She was on the verge of giving in to the hunger and opening her mouth to taste him when he straightened and stepped away from the car.

“G’night, Phoebe. Call me when you think you can handle our second date.” With a casual salute he headed back toward his house, grabbed the decadent dessert from the roof of his car and disappeared into the garage.

Phoebe released a frustrated breath. He’d gotten to her. Damn him. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. She curled her trembling fingers around the steering wheel and backed out of the driveway.

Next time she’d be prepared for his devious moves.

With his pulse hammering in the triple digits, Carter stumbled into his house and collapsed in a kitchen chair. He’d feel smug about the success of his sneak attack if he weren’t totally disgusted with himself.

He still wanted Phoebe with the panting lack of control of the boy he’d once been. The knowledge had hit him like a sniper’s bullet the second his lips touched hers. He scrubbed a hand over the lower half of his face, but he couldn’t erase the feel of her satiny lips or her sweet taste. He’d grossly underestimated his opponent’s power.

He’d been about to write off the evening as an unsuccessful maneuver when she’d wriggled her fingers and sent a fire-storm of memories streaking through his brain. She’d used the same gesture twelve years ago to invite him into her arms.

One thing was damned certain. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he got Phoebe Lancaster Drew into his bed and out of his system. But she had his number and he didn’t like it. She expected a seduction, so he’d have to scale back and be more subtle if he wanted to soften her up. A grin of anticipation tugged at his lips.

He retrieved a legal pad from the kitchen drawer and composed a list of ways to get Phoebe to let down her guard, then he reached for the phone. Date number two would require a little help from his friends.

“‘Call me when you think you can handle our second date,’” Phoebe mimicked Carter’s deep voice as she accelerated up his driveway and into the shade of an overhanging oak.

As if she could ignore a challenge like that. But still, she’d waited two days to call. Of course, that wasn’t because she lacked nerve, but because the day after their first date had been the Memorial Day holiday. She groaned at the bald-faced lie…um…political whitewash.

Casual clothes. Tennis shoes. Nine o’clock tomorrow. Click. Her phone conversation with Carter gave new meaning to the term succinct. He hadn’t allowed her the opportunity to argue or to ask him to reconsider ending this nonsensical game.

She shoved the gearshift into park, opened the car door and stepped into his driveway wearing her new cross-trainers. Her heart rate doubled as she marched up the walk. The first date picture had been the one she’d already seen. Which one would Carter choose for today’s mystery date? And would she shove it in the back of her nightstand drawer with the other one or would she destroy it?

Destroy it, she decided. She couldn’t risk her grandfather finding it. The pictures were the only evidence of her wilder days. She didn’t want him to fear that she was like her mother—an embarrassment and a liability to his political stature.

You’re a selfish prima donna who never thinks of anyone but herself. Go. Go and don’t come back until you’ve grown up.

If growing up means being a pretentious old windbag like you, then I’m never coming back.

Phoebe rubbed her temple, trying to erase the memories of that last explosive argument between her grandfather and mother. Despite the passage of twenty-three years, she could still hear the raised voices as clearly as she had that night from the top of the stairs.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.