The Best Of Both Worlds. Elissa Ambrose

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ hadn’t returned any of his calls, and he was tired of her ice-queen attitude. The sooner they got it out in the open, the sooner they could get on with their lives. They were adults, weren’t they? This kind of thing happened all the time, didn’t it?

      So why did he feel like a heel?

      Three months ago, after seven uninterrupted months on-site, he’d flown back from Phoenix to be the best man at David’s wedding, intending to return to the job the following morning. After the reception Mrs. Roth had invited the guests to take home anything they wanted. Although she’d been referring to the sweet-table and flowers, Carter had taken home the groom’s younger sister.

      “The decor doesn’t do much to whet the appetite, does it?” Armed with a pot of coffee, a fresh-faced young woman no older than eighteen, her long blond hair in a ponytail, stood by the table. “The diner’s only saving grace is that it’s across the street from the bookstore. More coffee?”

      “Sure, why not?” If the first cup hadn’t killed him, nothing would. He read her nametag and asked, “Christina, can you tell me when Becky will be back from her break?”

      She frowned. “Sorry, mister, Rebecca left just before you got here. She was let go. I guess she went home.” A worried expression crossed her face. “I hope she’s okay. That storm out there is pretty nasty. She was on foot.”

      “Christina!” a large, beefy man called from behind the counter. “How many times do I have to tell you not to fraternize with the customers! Get back to work!”

      “I’m not fraternizing, I’m working!” She took out her order pad and pretended to write. “I feel pretty bad about the whole thing,” she said quietly. “She was fired because of me.”

      “I doubt that,” Carter replied. “Becky’s made a career of getting fired. She’s perfected the technique all on her own, without any help from anyone.” He had to give her credit, though, for sticking it out this long. Who would have thought someone as pampered as Becky would work in a rattrap like this in the first place? He dropped a five-dollar bill onto the table and stood up. “Thanks for the refill, but I think I’ll skip it. Maybe I can catch up with her.”

      “Coffee’s only a buck-fifty. What about your change?”

      “Keep it. Working for someone like him—” he motioned to the man behind the counter, who was scowling in their direction “—I’d say you’ve more than earned it.”

      By the time he reached the car, it was already buried in snow. Grumbling, he proceeded to clear the windshield with his bare hands. Dammit, it was only the first week in December, too early for a major storm. He should have remembered his gloves. In seconds his hands were stinging with the cold.

      This is what happens when you don’t plan ahead, he thought.

      Like Becky, for instance. He should never have let it happen.

      As kids they had flirted innocently. She’d been cute and funny and charming—and spoiled worse than an overripe peach. A princess-in-training, her brother used to call her. She was also five years younger. But as she grew into womanhood, the age difference began to fall away, and cute gave way to radiant, funny to endearing, charming to devastating. Ringlets of long sable-brown hair tumbled freely down her back, as though daring someone to tame it. Her large brown eyes were unfathomable, and her mouth, which seemed to curl in a perpetual half smile, half pout, was sinfully tantalizing. She was, however, from a different world. Without ever having to say a word, his family had made sure he knew the boundaries.

      Not pursuing a relationship was a mistake he’d regretted for years. And three months ago, on the night of David’s wedding, he’d made another one.

      Since then sleep had evaded him. He’d lain awake in his hotel room, trying—without success—to drive the memory of that night from his mind. As much as he hated to admit it, she’d gotten under his skin.

      But he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Except apologize.

      What had he been thinking, letting her come back with him to his apartment? He no longer felt that the difference in their backgrounds was a barrier, but these days, thanks to a failed marriage and a fast-paced lifestyle, any kind of involvement was at the bottom of his wish list. Becky was the kind of woman who needed a husband. She wasn’t the type who would settle for an affair.

      That devil-may-care, free-spirit act didn’t fool him for a minute. She might look like a temptress, might act like a temptress, but he knew the truth. Becky Roth was as homegrown as apple pie, or in her case, apple kugel.

      Of course, if the truth were told, she had seduced him.

      And that’s why he felt like a heel. He should have turned her down.

      Three teenagers, bundled in coats and scarves and gloves, ran out of a large saltbox-style house. A boy around sixteen stopped to roll a snowball, then shot it at the girl, who appeared to be a few years younger. The girl squealed and the two boys laughed.

      “Oh, you think you’re so macho!” the girl shouted, retaliating with a bull’s-eye shot to the taller boy’s shoulder.

      “I think I’m going to defect to the other side,” the taller boy called to his friend. “With a windup like that, your sister could pitch for the pros.”

      For a brief moment Becky was that young girl, and the taller boy was Carter, her teenage crush, her brother’s best friend. She closed her eyes, trying to conjure up memories of her youth, a carefree time when life wasn’t encumbered with complications. Back then there weren’t as many choices, she thought. You did what was expected of you.

      Without warning a snowball smashed against her forehead, causing her to lose her balance. Her legs slipped out from beneath her, and a moment later she was down on the sidewalk. “Oh, no,” she said, noticing the rip in her panty hose. Along her shin was a nasty red patch. At first she felt nothing but the cold, but then the pain took over. She wasn’t bleeding, but her skin felt as if she’d been whipped with steel wool.

      “Are you all right?” the taller boy asked, concern written across his brow. “Gee, I’m sorry, ma’am. With all this snow, I didn’t see you. I didn’t mean to clobber you.”

      Ma’am? Did he just call her ma’am? Just when she thought the day couldn’t get any worse, some kid has to come by, practically knock her unconscious and then call her ma’am.

      “He meant to clobber me,” the girl by his side said. “Randy, you moron, don’t just stand there. Help her up.”

      Becky squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to squeeze out the pain. It was a trick she’d learned when Jordan left, and it had worked. She hadn’t cried, and afterward she had gone about her life as though nothing had changed. And nothing had, really. All that had happened was that she’d moved out of her husband’s domain back to her parents, where she’d been living in limbo these past nine months.

      Nisht ahir un nish aher, Bubbe would say. Neither here nor there.

      A tear rolled down Becky’s cheek. The trick wasn’t working. “My leg,” she moaned. “It hurts.”

      “I’ll take care of her,” she heard someone say. It was a man’s voice, deep and resonant. She opened her eyes and winced, but not because of the pain. Carter. Above her stood Carter Prescott, III, СКАЧАТЬ