Carolina stared at him, almost not able to form words. She’d come over here to cool herself off after nearly throwing caution to the wind and repeating the same mistake she’d made in college. Fortunately, Drew’s idiotic words had cooled her down considerably. “You really have no clue, do you?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes, and that’s the problem. You never did.” She walked over and grabbed his coat, jabbed it in his chest and pushed him toward the door. “Thanks for a great day, but really, Drew, it’s time for you to go.”
“I said something to upset you.”
“Really? You? I find that hard to believe.” She opened the door. “Good night, Drew.”
He turned to her, looking like he really had no idea. “This isn’t over, Carolina.”
She shut the door in his face, embarrassed that she’d nearly fallen into bed with Drew.
Again.
What was it about that man that made her want to get naked and have sex with him? What was it that made her so easily forget her vow to hate him for what he’d done to her all those years ago? He’d humiliated her once, and yet she was still wildly attracted to him. Today he’d made her forget that she had all these plans for her future, plans that hinged on her having laser focus and tunnel vision.
Only one thing in her life was important right now, and it wasn’t sex and a complicated relationship with a man that, despite all her protestations and determination, still seemed to linger in her heart and all over her body after all these years.
Even now she could smell him on her, and as she took a deep breath, lust filled her and she regretted throwing him out. Right now they could be having hot, passionate sex.
He was right about one thing—she was tense, and she could use a release. Her body pulsed with need and she’d been so close to having him, to feeling his hands and his mouth on her again.
Would that have been so bad?
She dragged her fingers through her hair. God, yes, it would have.
He weakened her resolve. He weakened her—everything. As strong as she knew she was, she became nothing more than a quivering mass of . . . female whenever she was around him.
And that just wasn’t acceptable.
She needed to steer clear of Drew Hogan, not only for the next few months, but forever.
NINE
THE QUIET OF THE HOLIDAYS—AFTER CAROLINA HAD gotten Drew out of her house, if not out of her head—had given her the opportunity to make some serious progress on her line. She’d buried herself in work, mainly because she needed to, but also because she wanted to forget the mistake she’d almost made.
Again.
He touched her so easily, slid past her defenses as if that hurt had never happened. Though it was her hurt, not his, so she had to stop blaming him for how he made her feel.
And if it was light and simple to him, again, that was on her. He wanted her, and she supposed she should feel flattered instead of insulted.
As she rolled her head around her neck to get the kinks out, and lifted her shoulders up and down, she realized Drew had been right on one count.
She was tense, could feel it in every muscle as she worked on hour ten of this day, which had started far too early and would likely keep going until she couldn’t see the thread or her eyes grew so tired the lines on the fabric patterns started to run together.
Today she was in her work studio, a space she rented so she and her assistants could sew and bring in the models for fittings. She was fortunate that she’d made a good living working as a designer for David Faber, and that she had family money to start her business. But that’s as far as the family money went. Now she was on her own, and she wanted to succeed—or fail—on her own merits. She didn’t want to rely on Preston money year after year to fund what others would think of as a hobby project. The pressure was on.
This line had to be a success.
At least she was seeing some progress, and that made a little of the tension ease.
“It’s coming together, Carolina.”
She nodded at Edward, one of her assistants, a talented designer in his own right. She’d hired him as soon as she knew she was going to design a line of her own. He’d been an invaluable asset, with a critical eye for what looked good on men, and sewing skills that she treasured.
“Yes, it is. At least there are finished products going up on the racks.”
He put an arm around her and hugged her close. “And beautiful finished products at that. One step at a time, is what you always tell me.”
She turned and smiled at him. “I know. I know. I just want it all to be done right now.”
“But it isn’t, and you need to have patience. Just breathe and take it one day at a time. The reward will be yours at the end, love.”
She laughed. “Quit throwing my own platitudes back at me and get back to work.”
Edward moved off. Carolina went to the rack, checking the finished products against her tablet so she knew what had been completed and what was left to be done.
Too many things left to do and not much time to accomplish them.
She fingered one of her dresses, a simple cotton shift she’d worked hours on designing. She slid her fingers along the scalloped edges. The hint of lace had been a perfect touch. The beige was subdued. She loved its simplicity and hoped the audience would, too.
But maybe it was too simple. Maybe if she amplified the color or changed to a print . . .
“You’re second-guessing yourself again, boss. It’s perfect just the way it is.”
She shifted her gaze to her other assistant, Tierra, a gorgeous, raven-haired beauty and the best seamstress a designer could ever ask for.
“You’re right. That dress is perfect.”
“It is,” Tierra said. “So leave it alone and come talk to me about how you want this shirt stitched. I also have a question about the fabric for this dress. The patterns aren’t matching up like they should.”
The next couple of hours were a flurry of activity. By the time they ended for the day, it was nearly eight p.m. Carolina headed back to her apartment, mentally and physically exhausted.
She changed into yoga pants and pulled a sweater over her long-sleeved shirt, then fixed a frozen Chinese microwaveable meal and sat on the couch cross-legged. She grabbed the remote, needing some mindless television to wind down her brain after today’s intense work session.
She surfed channels, not finding anything that suited her. When she landed on tonight’s hockey game, she stopped, set the remote on the arm of the chair, and watched the game while she ate.
The Travelers were tied one to one with Nashville’s team going into the second period.
After her not-so-stellar showing on the ice skating rink Thanksgiving Day, Carolina watched the ease with which the skaters raced across the ice, sticks in hand. She couldn’t help but focus on Drew as he fought a Nashville player for the puck, always so impressed with his skill on his skates. He’d been so calm and patient with her that day when he could have just as easily blown her off to showboat his superior skating prowess. Instead, he’d put his arm around her and slowly made his way around the ice with her.
Okay, so he wasn’t the jerk he’d been in college. At least he hadn’t been that day at the rink. But he’d still tried his best to get in her pants.
Then again, she hadn’t exactly been throwing off stay away from me signals, had she?
Pondering that thought, she focused again on the game. She hadn’t heard from Drew since she’d asked him to leave her apartment that night. When he’d told her it wasn’t over.
Yet he hadn’t called her and hadn’t been back.
She rolled her eyes and took her bowl to the sink, rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher.