“Absolutely. I’ve already changed the locks myself since there’d been squatters in it. I bought new carpet for the bedrooms. I’ve ordered some hardwood for the foyer, kitchen, and great room, and tile for the bathrooms. It should be ready for pickup tomorrow. There’s another ten grand in the account tied to this debit card. I’ll text you the PIN. Whatever you can do with this money and just over four weeks… I’d appreciate it enormously.”
“You’re a lucky SOB that I’ve embraced retirement and don’t mind home improvement projects.” Caleb smiled.
Truth was, it would be nice to fill his idle thoughts with something besides getting Carlotta under him and spreading her pretty, round thighs so he could see her pussy. Touch it. Taste it. He had little doubt that she’d been celibate since before her divorce, and he’d play on the need wrought by her deprivation if he had to. But he’d rather start with holding her, building trust, making her comfortable and happy. Then he’d make her scream out his name.
“Whatever you’re thinking, please don’t share.” Hunter gave a mock shiver, then tossed him the keys.
Caleb caught them with one hand and batted his son’s head with the other. “Shithead. I’ll help you with one condition.”
“Shoot.”
“Don’t talk to Kata about her mother. I think…I’ve got an idea.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute, Carlotta?”
At the sound of Caleb Edgington’s voice behind her—how did he get that close without her hearing his approach?—she shivered. Butterflies in her stomach was something she hadn’t felt since adolescence, and she didn’t like how feminine he made her feel. His voice was always deep and rife with desire. He didn’t hide his feelings well. Of course, she didn’t think he really tried.
Though it had been over two years since her bout with pneumonia, she had never forgotten her recovery. Hunter and Kata, then newlyweds, had taken her from her neglectful ex-husband’s home and brought her to Caleb to convalesce. He had carried her everywhere, simply scooping her up in his arms to cart her upstairs for sleep, then bringing her downstairs for meals. She wasn’t a tiny woman, so how did that man manage to pick her up as if she weighed almost nothing?
Caleb cleared his throat, bringing her back to the present. She glanced over her shoulder. Though he hadn’t spoken again, he all but compelled her with those terribly blue eyes, with the rugged planes of his face. Carlotta dragged in a shaking breath. The truth was, she owed him for all his gruff care while she’d recovered. Yes, she’d baked for him and given him a lovely card…but she’d purposely left everything on his porch when he wasn’t home.
Because he made her blood race for the first time in forever. And he terrified her.
Gathering her oxygen and courage, she turned and looked up, up, up in order to meet Caleb’s gaze. Even in the darkened parking lot illuminated only by the scattered lamppost here and there, Caleb still looked like something out of a fantasy. Those watchful eyes gave her nowhere to hide. His tight T-shirt attested to his daily multi-mile run. Bulging arms showed that he wasn’t idle, as if he sought to prove that age really was just a number. He looked every bit as good as guys half his age.
He deserved someone a little less fifty, a little less round…a little less wary of relationships.
“Of course, Caleb.” She pasted on a brightly fake smile. “I always have time for family. What would you like to talk about?”
The man blanked his irritation with a carefully impassive expression, but she knew that he didn’t like being lumped in as a relative. And truthfully, she didn’t see him as one—at all—despite months of trying. Yes, he looked like Hunter. Her son-in-law treated Kata very well and made her daughter one happy woman. Caleb…he just looked like a hugely capable, sexual man.
She swallowed against a little dizzying wave of desire as she stared at him and pretended disinterest.
Pretending became nearly impossible when he wrapped his hand around her elbow and brought her just a bit closer. Across the parking lot, she saw Kata and Hunter drive away. And there went her security blanket.
“Let’s step into this little coffee shop.”
He did not ask or wait for an answer, just started leading her in that direction. Carlotta weighed giving in to his demand against protesting. In the end, it wasn’t worth the fight. They were going to be in public…and she liked his hands on her more than she should.
A moment later, Caleb led her up the curb, somehow mysteriously placing himself right where he could help her in case her ankle decided to freeze up, as it occasionally did. Then they were inside, surrounded by people of all ages with their laptops, mellow music, low lighting, and the smell of exotic coffee rife in the air.
He led her to a table in the corner, near the back, then seated her like a gentleman, pushing her chair close.
“Coffee? Dessert?”
“No, thank you. I am pleasantly stuffed after that lovely meal. Thank you for dinner.”
“My pleasure. I’m getting coffee for myself. Do you want a smoothie? Water?”
So, he wanted her to have something to make her comfortable during a potentially long discussion. Carlotta sighed. What exactly did he want to talk about? Hopefully not to revisit their last date and that kiss that still made her feel hot all over whenever she thought of it. And made her fantasize about him touching her.
“Water, then. Please.” She settled into the chair, studying the black, faux-wood table.
Caleb made his way to the counter, and she stared under her lashes at the sturdy width of his shoulders, the tapering of his lean waist to his narrow hips. He stood ramrod straight, like a military man, and kept his gaze trained forward while ordering from the twenty-something barista. He returned a few minutes later with his hands full. Once he settled into the chair across from her, she realized how small the table seemed, how quiet the corner was, how little air she had to breathe when he sat so near.
Goodness, if he asked her out again, would she have the fortitude to say no? Of course, she really, really wanted to say yes—to nearly anything he might ask. But if she couldn’t handle a putz like Gordon, Caleb Edgington would run over her entirely. Keeping her guard up was critical.
After setting his steaming coffee aside, he palmed a big bottle of water. He’d thoughtfully asked for a cup, then poured some of the cool liquid for her. “Here you go. I’ll get to the point. The kids need our help.”