One Night

  “But you must have seen him?”

  Cathie knew they worked together. “Of course.”

  “Does he know?”

  “I think he suspects.”

  “What are you two going to do if you’re pregnant?” Cathie asked, sounding very much as if she was at her wits’ end.

  “I don’t know.” Carrie hadn’t wanted to think about her continuing relationship with Kyle just yet. As sure as the sun shines in August she knew what his reaction to a pregnancy would be. He’d grit his teeth and suggest they marry. Carrie would prefer to raise the child herself than have a martyred husband.

  “It could be all this worry’s for nothing,” Cathie murmured on an optimistic note.

  “True,” Carrie concurred, but all of a sudden she knew with a certainty she didn’t question that she was carrying Kyle’s baby.

  “You can have a blood test done at your local doctor’s office,” Cathie said, “or you can buy a home pregnancy test at the local drugstore.”

  “Okay,” Carrie murmured, disheartened.

  “What are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”

  This was another aspect of the situation Carrie wasn’t prepared to face just yet. “Eventually there won’t be any way to hide it from them, but I’m certainly not going to mention it until I’m absolutely certain.”

  “Don’t tell Dad who—”

  Carrie knew what her sister almost said. Their father would raise hell. One thing was certain: Michael Jamison must never learn Kyle was the father of her baby. When and if he discovered the truth, Michael would make all their lives miserable.

  Rarely had Kyle been more eager to leave the radio station. He was tired of waiting to hear from Carrie. It was time for a confrontation.

  He stopped off at a grocery store on his way, picking up several items he felt she would need and probably hadn’t bought for herself. First he’d cook dinner for her, he decided, and then they’d talk. Seriously talk.

  First and foremost he intended to clear up what it was he’d said that had set her off in the first place. He’d tried once to make amends and utterly failed. This time would be different. He promised himself he’d listen more carefully. He’d try harder. Once they had that out of the way, they could face the second major crisis of their relationship: whether Carrie was or wasn’t pregnant.

  Carrie answered the door, her eyes widened as if she were surprised to see him. She looked a bit uncertain, which wasn’t like her.

  “I know you said you needed time, but I can’t wait any longer,” he said.

  It could have been his imagination, but she seemed reluctant to let him inside the house.

  “I brought us dinner,” he said, moving into her kitchen and setting two grocery bags on the countertop.

  “I ate just a little bit ago.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “I’m not hungry yet myself.” He took the milk and other items that needed to be refrigerated out of the sacks and left the rest on the counter.

  When he’d finished he turned to find Carrie standing as far away from him as was possible and still be in the same room. She was wearing cut-off jeans, and the tips of her fingers were inserted into the front pockets. Her hair was up in a high ponytail and she was barefooted. She watched him wearily.

  “First off,” he said, “I thought we should talk.”

  “What about?”

  “Us.” Kyle pulled out an oak chair but didn’t sit. Carrie didn’t seem inclined to do so either. He braced his hands against the back of the chair.

  “If you want to discuss us as a team employed by KUTE, I think you should know—”

  “No.” Kyle cut her off. She was avoiding the issue, but he wasn’t going to let her. “We’re going to settle whatever it is that’s wrong between the two of us.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “That’s pretty autocratic of you to decide the subject of our discussion without first…Kyle, are you even listening to me?”

  Kyle had trouble answering her. Not because he didn’t know what he wanted to say; the words clogged his throat, unable to squeeze past a deep and sudden awareness of her as a woman. The way Carrie had folded her arms pushed up her breasts, and for the first time he was conscious that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her cotton T-shirt.

  “Kyle?”

  “Sorry.”

  Her nipples had hardened, he noted, thrusting themselves forward against the front of her shirt like an open invitation. Kyle didn’t need to be reminded of how they felt, in his hands or against his lips.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His fingers bit into the wood chair with enough strength to cause his hand to ache. “You aren’t wearing a bra,” he said impatiently.

  “What in the name of heaven has that got to do with anything?”

  “I can’t carry on a serious conversation if you’re dressed like that.” He motioned with his hand. “For heaven’s sake, go put one on.”

  “I most certainly will not. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s miserably hot and I’m not going to put on a bunch of extra clothes because you think women need to wear bras.”

  She didn’t understand it wasn’t women in general who plagued him but one particular feisty one. Her. Otherwise he agreed with what she was saying.

  “All right,” he said slowly, drawing in a deep breath. “We’ll forget that.”

  “Good.” She waited an impatient moment and then continued. “Go on, I’m listening.”

  Kyle looked her way, but try as he might he couldn’t make his gaze reach any higher than her breasts. This wasn’t like him. Kyle was a man who liked being in charge, a man in control of his own emotions. There’d been other women in his life, but none who had affected him physically as deeply or profoundly as Carrie.

  All at once, he needed to sit down; otherwise she’d witness the powerful influence she had on him, and he wasn’t keen on having her learn how weak he was when it came to her.

  “Sit down,” he said, “and we’ll talk all this out logically.”

  “All right.” She made it sound as though it were a major concession. “I imagine you want to discuss what happened in Dallas, and at this point you’re probably terrified of the consequences.”

  “That’s not it at all,” he returned heatedly, surprised with the vehemence of his reply. With just about anyone else, he could disguise his irritation; not with her. Carrie had the power to reduce him to a babbling idiot within minutes. “I want to know what I said that you found so insulting.”

  Her face tightened. “I believe we’ve already gone over that. Trust me, rehashing your opinion of my morals isn’t going to solve anything.”

  Kyle momentarily closed his eyes as the frustration ate at him. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “That’s what I said,” she said in heated tones. “Not when we have far more important subjects to discuss.”

  “Like what?”

  She eyed him as if trying to decide if she should have his IQ tested. “In case you’d forgotten, I could very well be pregnant.”

  “We don’t know that yet.” The subject had been keenly on his mind every day since they got back from Dallas, but he wasn’t about to tell her.

  “True, I haven’t been tested yet, but—”

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it, all right?”

  “No,” she said, and he noticed how pale she’d gone. “You don’t want to discuss it because you’re worried sick it might be true.”

  “We aren’t going to discuss this subject until we know for sure what we’re dealing with. Why get ourselves all upset over nothing?”

  “Upset! Who said I was upset?” she cried.

  “I know I’m not!” he shouted back.

  Carrie blinked at him several times as if he’d taken her by surprise, and after a moment the hint of a smile caused the corners of her mouth to quiver.

  “What’s so all-fired funny?” he demanded, then deeply regretted his lack of patience. She was worried sick and
all he could do was berate her, shout at her, when he should have been looking for ways to comfort her.

  The humor drained from her eyes, and she stood. “Nothing. It’s just that…oh, Kyle, it was sweet of you to bring dinner, but really I won’t be hungry for ages.”

  Her words were a dismissal, but Kyle wasn’t going to leave. He moved out of the chair, walked over to where she was standing by the kitchen counter, and took her in his arms. She came without resisting, as if she too had been waiting for this moment, dreading it yet desperately needing him to hold her.

  Kyle kissed her lightly, making sure the contact between them was warm and gentle. She didn’t open her lips to him, but then he hadn’t expected that she would.

  Not at first.

  So he kissed her again and again, lightly, tenderly, on her temple and cheek. He ran his tongue on the underside of her chin and down her throat, marveling at how soft and silky her skin was and at the primal feminine scent of her.

  Between kisses he whispered how beautiful she was and with some finagling managed to free her hair so the glorious weight of it spilled into his waiting hands.

  After a few moments he felt the tension ease out of her body and she relaxed against him. Taking her by the hand, he walked into the living room, sat on the sofa, and brought her down into his lap.

  Kyle wasn’t sure what he intended. One moment they were arguing and the next she was in his arms. It seemed the most appropriate place for her to be. They certainly didn’t have any trouble communicating on the physical level; anything else was a disaster. Kyle figured they could work on the verbal aspects of their relationship later. Just now he had more pressing interests.

  He’d been teased and tantalized to the limit of his endurance. No longer. Holding his breath, he slipped his hand beneath her shirt, kneading her breast in a slow, almost hypnotic motion until she sighed and sought his lips.

  Kyle gave her his mouth and, using his tongue, gently stroked her own in deeply arousing kisses. Arched as she was against the barrier of the sofa arm, Carrie’s breasts were thrust toward him. He fondled their satin-smooth roundness until her nipples were rigidly extended. Only then did he rasp his thumb over the apex of her breast and was instantly rewarded by a soft sigh. Instantly the nipple tightened even more and thrust upward.

  “No fair.” The words seemed strangled. With a determined effort, she righted herself, removed her T-shirt, and straddled him, a knee on each side of his thighs.

  Kyle blinked, not knowing what to expect but definitely knowing what he wanted. He wanted, he needed her warm and willing beneath him, and soon, before he went crazy. Heat surged through him and his shaft hardened into a full, throbbing erection. His need wasn’t eased any by the way Carrie was working her tight little buttocks over him.

  Her arms circled his neck and she trailed kisses along the side of his jaw and then lower, to the hollow of his throat. Her tongue made maddening circles there and then slid ever so lightly to the pulse point in his neck.

  Kyle moaned in helpless desire. She was driving him over the brink. Impatiently he reached for the snap of her jeans, but he was all thumbs. He sighed with gratitude when she pushed his fingers away and did the task herself. When she lifted her buttocks to peel open the zipper, he was ready, easing his hands inside the widening V. The skin of her inner thighs felt like silk against his palms.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said, slowly lowering her weight against his bulging hardness. Nestled as she was against him, it was all he could do not to flip her on her back and bury himself inside her. He, however, was light-years ahead of her. She wasn’t nearly ready for him, and he could think of only one way to cure that, although it would be torture for him.

  He eased his hand past the elastic of her lacy underwear and closed his mouth over her nipple, sucking deeply. Carrie released a small cry of surprise and burrowed her fingers into his hair.

  When she started to move her hips and rotate against him, he knew she was as eager for their lovemaking as he was.

  “Soon, sweetheart, soon,” he promised, his words barely audible as he struggled to free her from her jeans.

  “Kyle…oh, Kyle.” She was panting his name.

  “Yes, sweetheart, just a minute now.”

  “Did you…do you have anything for protection with you?”

  It took a moment for her words to work past the sexual haze that clouded his mind. His eyes flew open and he blinked. “No,” he answered gruffly. “What about you?”

  The way she slumped against his shoulder was answer enough.

  “Do you mean to tell me that between the two of us we can’t come up with a single birth control method?”

  “Rhythm?” Carrie suggested in a whisper.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he was willing to risk pregnancy, but then his thinking cleared. It would be just his luck to get Carrie pregnant now, if she wasn’t already from their last throw-caution-to-the-winds encounter.

  Slowly she eased her weight back onto her knees and refastened her jeans. Before he could protest she’d managed to slip the T-shirt over her head as well, but he wouldn’t allow her to leave his lap. Denied everything else, he clung to this one small pleasure.

  “Please, let me hold you a few minutes,” he whispered.

  She didn’t seem eager to slip out of his arms either, and that encouraged him.

  Neither of them spoke for several moments.

  “You know what I was just thinking?” Carrie whispered.

  “No.”

  “Do you remember that state patrol officer who stopped us just outside of Paris?”

  “The one whose wife had left him?”

  “Yes. Do you remember what he said about their relationship?”

  “Not really.” Kyle wasn’t thinking all that clearly and marveled that Carrie could.

  “He claimed the only place the two of them could get along was in bed. That’s the way we are too,” Carrie said. “We can barely exchange a civil word, but the minute you kiss me, I’m putty in your hands.”

  She had this all wrong. It was the other way around. She was the one who wielded the power over him. When he held and kissed Carrie, she had absolute control over him. For a man who prided himself on his restraint and discipline, this was an admission he’d rather not make, especially to her.

  “The answer to that is simple enough,” he said, being facetious. “It’s to keep you in bed. I promise you we’ll both be happy.”

  “You’d like to keep me barefoot and pregnant, wouldn’t you?”

  She sounded angry when he’d only been kidding her. “I was teasing,” he said gruffly, disgruntled that she couldn’t have figured that out on her own. “Lots of couples communicate best in bed,” Kyle went on. “It’s not so bad, is it?”

  “No,” she agreed reluctantly. “As long as neither one of us has anything to say, we’re in fine shape.”

  “What have I said that’s so offensive?” he asked, genuinely wanting to know. “I’d do anything to make matters right between us.”

  “Why?” she asked. “So you can get me back in your bed?”

  Kyle needed to think about the answer. He didn’t want to be anything less than completely honest. Apparently she found his lack of response insulting. She climbed off his lap so fast, she nearly fell onto the carpet. Laughing was not the appropriate response.

  “Don’t you dare laugh,” she ordered. “In fact, it’d probably be best if you left.”

  “You don’t mean that.” He gestured weakly with his hands, wondering how all his good intentions had backfired once more.

  To prove her point, Carrie walked over to the door and opened it.

  Kyle stood and glared at her. He should never have tried to reason with her. This woman was driven strictly by her emotions.

  Next time he’d know better. She’d dented his pride once too often. He was through with coming to her house with his tail between his legs. He was through begging her forgiveness for
imaginary crimes he was supposed to have committed.

  It was only fair that she know of his decision. He paused, his hand against her screen door. “I won’t be back until you invite me.”

  She laughed softly. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  Kyle looked at her and felt a sinking sensation. He didn’t know what he’d done that was so terrible. For that matter, he wasn’t convinced Carrie did either. Fighting with him was a convenient excuse to hide the uncontrollable physical pull they felt toward each other. If that was the way she wanted it, fine. He was in no position to argue, not if he intended on maintaining his pride.

  Carrie managed to make it through the next couple of days without another confrontation with Kyle. At the station he was stiff and polite toward her, doing his best to ignore her as much as possible, to act completely indifferent.

  At least that was what he wanted her to think. Carrie knew otherwise. A couple of times she felt his gaze on her, but when she looked toward him, he’d focused elsewhere.

  He’d meant what he said about the next move coming from her. He didn’t speak to her unnecessarily, didn’t phone her, and, other than professionally, kept almost entirely to himself.

  None of this behavior was any different from before they’d taken their trip together. She’d been perfectly happy then. Now, however, she was miserable. Pride could be a burdensome thing.

  Friday morning didn’t start out well. The check Carrie had sent almost two weeks ago to retrieve her grandmother’s opal ring from Dillon’s Pawnshop had been returned with a note. She tore open the envelope to learn that Dillon was sorry, but his assistant had sold the ring by mistake, and there was no record of the buyer’s name.

  Carrie was crushed. The opal had been in her family for three generations.

  The fact that she and Kyle had a public appearance to make that afternoon didn’t help matters any. Mr. Tidy was opening a tenth laundromat in the city and had asked KUTE’s morning personalities to come for the grand opening.

  As usual there would be free hot dogs, popcorn, and balloons to contend with, in addition to the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Under other circumstances Carrie would have enjoyed the outing. Not so this afternoon.