“Well, with that settled...” Anne smiled, then cleared her throat. “I mean almost settled. What’s going on with the wedding details? Are you all set?”
Carly nodded. “Pretty much.” She leaned closer to Mike to allow the waiter room to maneuver.
Caesar salad had always been Mike’s favorite, and when everyone had been served, he picked up his fork.
“All that’s left is the final fitting on my dress.”
Mike’s appetite disappeared. Watching as Carly moved one leaf around the plate, he surmised that she wasn’t any more hungry than he.
“I’ll be glad to go with you,” Anne said, hope shining in her eyes. “After all, it isn’t every day your daughter gets married.”
Whatever Mike’s first impressions of Anne Wexler, they were obviously as false as the shield she hid behind. It was obvious now that she loved her daughter but feared being rejected.
“No thanks, Mom. I don’t need your help. I’ve got a million errands to run and last-minute appointments before the high school graduation.”
“All of which have nothing to do with me. I want to be there. Just name the time.”
Carly raised her eyes from her dish and glanced toward her mother. “I’ll probably just drop by the bridal shop during lunch on Friday.”
“Friday’s the Bar Association luncheon honoring your father.” Disappointment radiated from Anne in waves.
“I know, and I can handle this alone. After all, the dress is picked. It’s just a final fitting.”
“But every bride needs someone there for them.” Anne paused. “Your bridesmaids?” she asked hopefully.
“Are coming from out of town, you know that. And Juliette has a business lunch.”
Anne turned toward her husband, her intention clear.
“No! You belong with Dad. I can deal with this alone. I’m fine, Mom.”
Mike couldn’t take it anymore. For either of them. “If you need a second opinion, I could help out.” He draped an arm over Carly’s chair and leaned back. “I might enjoy it,” he said with a grin.
Peter looked up from his conversation with Roger. “Not a bad idea, Carly. At least you’d have someone there... you know, for moral support.”
“I don’t need...”
“Sure you do,” Pete insisted. “You’ve handled all this on your own, planned everything, picked everything.”
She raised a napkin to those luscious lips. “Not quite everything,” she muttered, then lowered the napkin back to her lap.
Mike shifted his wrist and tapped her on the shoulder. “I don’t mind.”
“We can’t,” she said. “It’s bad luck or something.”
He roared with laughter. “Why would you say that?”
“It’s not like he’s the groom,” Pete said, joining Mike for a laugh.
Suddenly Mike didn’t find the subject all that amusing. “If you want me, I’m available,” he said, suppressing the nudging guilt that threatened whenever he even thought about Carly.
Mike loved his brother. For Peter, Mike felt a kinship born of childhood struggles. For Carly, Mike felt... something stronger than he could put into words. But regardless of Peter’s faults or reasons for this engagement, Mike’s interest in his brother’s fiancé was low.
If he allowed Carly to come between them, he would lose the only family he had left. And so would Pete. For that reason alone, Mike was determined to keep a safe distance from Carly from here on in. With all the self-control that had gotten him the perfect picture numerous times, that shouldn’t be too difficult. But his conflicting desires just might tear him apart.
“Carly?” Peter laid a hand on her bare arm. Mike clenched his teeth in response.
“Okay,” she said, glancing at Mike. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Mike?” Peter glanced at him, one eyebrow lifted, waiting for an answer.
“Sure.” He’d help her. He’d help Pete. But at what cost? And to whom?
FOUR
Operating under the assumption that busy minds didn’t have time to think, Carly awoke early and spent the morning tackling belated spring cleaning and ignoring the persistent ring of the telephone. Unfortunately she couldn’t do the same thing with the doorbell.
She wiped her dusty hands on her jeans and brushed her bangs out of her eyes with the back of her hand. Whoever stood by the buzzer had more determination than she did. “Who is it?” she called out.
“Mike.”
Her stomach flipped, but she grabbed for the doorknob before she could change her mind. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
“And we would if you’d answer your telephone.” He grinned. “May I?” He gestured inside and, without waiting for an answer, slid past her into the apartment.
“Pushy,” she muttered.
“So I’ve been told,” he called over his shoulder.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” Despite her late-night resolution to steer clear of Peter’s brother, she couldn’t deny she was glad to see him. She shut the door, turned and followed him inside.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.
He stood by the window overlooking the small park. Wearing ragged denim shorts and a black T- shirt, his impact was as potent as ever.
“I thought we should talk.” He crossed his muscular forearms over his chest.
Idly she wondered if he worked out and where. She’d love to watch him develop those biceps. She licked her suddenly dry lips. The Carly Wexler she knew never had such wayward thoughts about men.
He pushed himself off the wall and took two steps toward her. The sexy swagger and casual air that were so much a part of him never ceased to amaze her. Neither did the fact that he was related to Peter. And that was the thought that sobered her.
“Talk about what?” she asked warily.
“What happened last night.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Nothing happened.”
His eyes narrowed, pinning her in place. “Funny, but you didn’t strike me as a coward.”
She ignored that comment. “We were on a crowded dance floor. Nothing happened.” If you don’t acknowledge it, it can’t hurt you. Her mother’s voice echoed inside her head. Tears she’d suppressed late in the night rushed forth, threatening to fall at the slightest provocation.
“Why did I know you’d say that?”