ONE
Carly Wexler stood back and admired the window display. Rays of sunlight streamed through the plate glass, illuminating an assortment of gold and diamond wedding bands. The enduring symbols of love and commitment caused her stomach to bunch into a tight knot. She closed her eyes, firmly convinced that a fresh glance at the sparkling rings would calm her nerves. After all, nothing could go wrong when a wedding had been planned as meticulously as hers.
She opened her eyes for another look. To her left, complementary wedding bands shimmered against a black velvet backdrop. His and hers. Carly and Peter. They were, as her fiancé reminded her, well-suited, sharing mutual friends and interests. A matched set, she thought, her gaze drifting over the glittering selections.
Every piece in the window had a partner... an apt description of her relationship with her fiancé. They didn’t share a grand passion, but that was what made theirs a perfect union. In an ideal world, love and passion could coexist, making a couple a perfect fit, instead of merely offering them a perfect coexistence. But Carly no longer believed in fairy tales. Thanks to her father’s destructive actions, she had seen the damage running on pure emotion could cause. Better to accept mutual respect and caring than to risk pain and disillusionment. She brushed at her newly cut bangs, paying little attention when they fell forward again.
A plain platinum and 18-karat gold set caught her eye. Though the criss-crossed bands were flanked on either side by more jeweled rings, Carly couldn’t take her eyes off the simpler pair. “Perfect,” she murmured. Too bad her fiancé would prefer a ring with more precious stones, one designed to impress.
“Like those.” She tapped her finger against the window.
She understood Peter’s need to make a statement, just as he understood her need for the perfect wedding with all the trimmings. Give and take, she reminded herself. Her finger traced a pattern on the cool glass.
“What woman wouldn’t like all those glittering diamonds?” From directly behind her, a sexy yet unfamiliar voice vibrated in her ear.
The question intrigued her. “One with substance perhaps?” She answered without turning. Both her heart and her gaze had refocused on her ring of choice.
“And wit,” the man added with obvious admiration.
She clasped her hands behind her back. “Good taste,” she responded, enjoying the innocent game.
The answering chuckle, deep and resonant, captured her interest, diverting her from choosing the circular band that would forever bind her to her future husband.
“It takes brains to see beyond the dazzle of diamonds,” the stranger said, approval marking his masculine drawl.
“I suppose.” Curiosity aroused, she turned toward the voice, her long skirt floating around her bare legs as she moved.
The sensual voice tantalized but hadn’t deceived. A ruggedly handsome man smiled at her. Her gaze locked with his. Hazel eyes flecked with gold shimmered beneath the afternoon sun and laugh lines bracketed a sensuous mouth.
Those mesmerizing eyes studied her intently. “Real beauty speaks for itself.”
Her cheeks heated at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“Just stating the obvious.”
Embarrassed, Carly acknowledged his words with a nod. She felt a connection with this stranger, one that defied logic. With long sandy hair streaked by the sun and the sexy way he rocked on the heels of worn hiking boots, he oozed wildness and danger, raw masculinity and cocky confidence. She brushed at her bangs with trembling hands. She preferred tame and safe. This man was anything but.
“So, what attracts you?” he asked. His gaze lingered on her an instant too long before darting to the jewel-filled window.
You do. The unbidden thought rocketed through her brain. “Those,” she said in a hoarse croak. She pointed to the simple bands with a none too steady hand.
“Nice,” he murmured in agreement. “So have we discovered what kind of woman prefers plain gold to diamonds?” His rich laugh hung in the air.
The sound warmed her, even as an unexpected chill dashed over her skin. She glanced up at the blue sky. A single puff of cloud covered the sun. Carly knew with complete certainty that this man, and not a passing feat of nature, caused her tremors and distinct sense of unease.
“Someone with more sense than to stand on a street corner in Manhattan and talk to a perfect stranger,” she murmured. “Excuse me.” She pivoted on her heel, intending to head inside the store, where safety in numbers awaited her.
“Carly, wait.”
She froze in midflight, turning back toward that compelling voice. “Who are you?” she asked warily.
“Mike Novack, Peter’s brother.” He held a bronzed hand toward her.
She silently cursed her fiancé’s lack of sentiment. The only picture she’d seen of Mike had been as a young boy. Certainly she’d have recalled seeing a current photo of the good-looking man standing before her.
“Brother.” Even as she reached out her hand, dismay and self-loathing rippled through her. Flirting with a stranger while shopping for wedding bands had been bad enough, but flirting with Peter’s errant brother showed a decided lack of judgment.
The type of judgment she’d expect from her father, not from herself.
“Last time I checked,” Mike said.
His strong hand grasped hers and she lost any sense of equilibrium she might have felt. His calloused fingers wrapped around her skin, enclosing her hand in warmth.
Heat traveled from her fingers, up her arm and into her br**sts before settling in the pit of her stomach. Through sheer force of will, she tried to ignore the new and unnerving sensations.
She wrenched her hand free from Mike’s grasp and focused all her attention on the plate-glass window. Without the sun’s rays, the rings had lost much of their sparkle and allure. She wrapped her arms across her chest in a futile attempt to warm herself inside and out.
“Carly?”
She grit her teeth against the sound of concern in his deep voice. “Obviously you’ve seen my picture.”
Mike smiled. “The one on Peter’s desk.”
“I wish I could say the same of you.”
“I’m the photographer in the family, not Pete.”
“So I’ve heard. Are you also the family flirt?”
His eyes narrowed in confusion. “I know I’ve been out of the country for a while, but when did casual conversation become slang for come-on?”
She blew her bangs out of her eyes with a hard puff of air. “Okay, I overreacted.” To a man who made her heart race and her palms sweat. As far as she was concerned, she’d definitely underreacted.