How old were you?”
She let out her breath. “Eleven.”
His heart dropped to his stomach. He knew that her family had died from carbon monoxide poisoning from a faulty appliance in their home. But he didn’t know the details. “How did you survive when the rest of them didn’t?”
“I wasn’t there. I was at a neighbor’s house. It was my first slumber party. I was younger than some of the other girls, so my parents were hesitant to let me go, but I begged them, so they gave in.” She breathed a little deeper. “Not being home that night saved my life.”
“It was different for me. I was in the car when it crashed. The impact was fast, brutally quick, but I remember it in slow motion.” It had been like an out of body experience that never ended. “I have a scar.” He pushed back the pieces of hair that fell across his forehead. “Here, just below my hairline. It was noticeable when I was young, but it’s faded over the years.”
She approached him and reached out to touch the scar, running her index finger along the pale line. She was painstakingly gentle, and it made him want to kiss her. They were standing so close he could’ve leaned forward and captured her mouth with his. But he didn’t take the liberty. They stared at each other instead, steeped in a strange kind of intimacy.
“I’m glad you survived the accident,” Carol said, smoothing his hair across his brow.
“So am I.” But before things got unbearably awkward, Jake stepped back, trying to restrain the tenderness between them. “After the crash, I used to pray to Uncta, a deity from Choctaw mythology who steals fire from the sun. I was the only one who was rescued from the car before it went up in flames.”
“Did you think Uncta had saved you?”
“No, but I wanted to steal fire, too. To have his powers.”
But that wasn’t going to help Jake now. He’d already jumped straight from the frying pan and into the flame, feeling things for Carol that he wished he didn’t feel. He still wanted to kiss her, as passionately as he could.
Carol wondered what had gotten into her, touching Jake the way she had. She shouldn’t have traced his scar or tried to subdue the unruly strands of his hair. Those types of things were reserved for lovers, not your boss.
But she wasn’t going to apologize. That would only draw attention to what she’d done. She could already feel the discomfort it had caused.
Breaking the silence, she said, “I’ll go get my new clothes so you can see them.” It was the purpose of his visit, after all. But she wasn’t going to offer to model them for him. That would be way too weird.
Carol dashed into her room and grabbed the garments.
She returned to the living room and laid them out on her couch. She went back for the accessories, and then lined them up on the coffee table.
“That’s a cool bounty,” he said.
Yes, it was, with at least two different outfits per day, along with shoes, purses and beach bags to match. “I have you to thank for it.”
“As long as you’re happy with everything.” He reached for a hanger with a flowing fabric draped around it. “What’s this?”
“That’s my party dress. It’s a sarong.” It was made from the finest silk in the world, decorated with a hand-painted design and trimmed in shiny glass beads.
“The material is beautiful, but how does it work?”
“There are lots of different ways to wrap it. Millie showed me how she thinks it will best suit me. This goes with it.” She grabbed a big sheer scarf and swished it back and forth. “It’s called a body veil. It goes around the dress for a fluttery effect.”
“A body veil.” He spoke softly. “That even sounds pretty.”
She forged ahead. “Both pieces are from a Brazilian designer who just exploded onto the scene.” She’d already memorized his name in case anyone at the party asked who she was wearing. “Millie said that they don’t use beach towels in Rio. Instead, they lay a sarong in the sand and the women use them as cover-ups, too. But you probably already know that since you go there every year for Carnival.”
Before she envisioned him doing wicked things in the streets of Rio, she quickly added, “My outfit was created as an evening gown and is much fancier than the sarongs they use at the beach. It’s from the designer’s most recent collection and hasn’t even hit the stores yet. So I was wrong about not wearing something straight off the runway.”
Jake put down the dress, treating it gently. “It has a romantic quality.”
She supposed it did, especially with the inclusion of the body veil, but dang if she could come up with an appropriate response.
Was Jake as attracted to her as she was to him? Was that even possible? It was sure starting to feel like it.
He was now eyeing her new bikini. It wasn’t an itty-bitty, stringy thing, but the design was nonetheless sexy. Millie had talked her into it, saying that the low-cut top and high-waist bottoms showed off her curves. Thankfully, Carol already had a bit of a tan from hanging out at the pool. It wasn’t summer yet. It was still spring, when the Southern California weather varied from day to day, so sometimes she cheated and used a tanning bed at the salon, preparing for the hotter months ahead. However, she was cautious about not overdoing any type of UV exposure. She never did anything in excess.
Jake did, though. He was the king of indulgences. She couldn’t imagine two people being more opposite, aside from the loss of their families, which had been their tie from the beginning. She’d first met him when she’d applied for a job at his Caring for Fosters Foundation, the organization he, Garrett and Max had created that provided financial and emotional support to foster children. She hadn’t gotten the job, as her experience in nonprofits was limited. But Jake had made it up to her, offering to hire her as his personal assistant, a position that was also up for grabs at the time. And now, here she was, two years later, trapped in feelings she couldn’t quite define.
“I should put everything back,” she said. She wanted that bathing suit out of sight, out of mind. Which was foolish, she knew, considering that eventually he was going to see her in it.
“I can help.”
“That’s okay, you don’t have to.”
“Really, I don’t mind.”
“All right.” Carol gave in. Otherwise, letting him handle her belongings might seem like a bigger deal than it was, even if it was making her nervous.
With both of their arms full, he followed her down the hall. They entered her room, and she placed her load on the bed.
He followed suit, then said, “It’s girlie in here.”
“I guess it is, to some degree.” Along with textured wood furnishings, the decor consisted of dried flowers, lacy pillows and a tufted headboard upholstered in blue velvet. “But what can I say?” She made a goofy joke. “I hit like a girl, too. So you better watch out.”
He laughed. “There’s no such thing as hitting like a girl. My sisters used to pummel the crap out of me. But most of the time, I had it coming.”
She teased him. “You were a troublemaker even then?”
“I used to embarrass them in front of their dates, telling the guys stupid things about them.”
She kept up the banter. “Remind me not to have you around when I go on my next date.”
His expression sobered. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Carol. I’m not a kid anymore.”
Boy, didn’t she know it. He was about as grown-up as a man could get, tall