“Dinner? Dancing?” He grinned, ready to elaborate and add to his list. “Roller skating? Bungee jumping? Body surfing?”
“I could maybe handle a movie. It’s dark there and nobody would have to know I was out with a maniac.”
He beamed at her. “Excellent choice. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is Saturday. Don’t you have a real date?”
“Carlie, Carlie, Carlie. This will be a real date. Up to, but excluding, the good-night kiss.”
Carlie twisted her mouth in apparent thought, chewed the corner of her bottom lip and studied her short, neat nails.
“You’re not contemplating death, you know,” he said dryly. “I’ll even let you choose the movie.” He watched the fleeting expressions on her face, and saw her indecision, her...nervousness? Damned unaccountable female. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to actually beg for a date. It was a rather disturbing experience.
“I can choose what we’ll see?”
His heartbeat picked up speed. “Absolutely.”
“A true concession. All right. I’ll go.”
Tyler felt his muscles ease, and only then realized how stiff he’d been. He felt as if he’d accomplished something major. Carlie was no easy nut to crack. But he was determined to help her loosen up. He could help her with the children, easing some of her obligation, and also show her how to have a good time.
He suddenly realized that things were starting to pick up. Boredom was a thing of the past. First there was that night with the mysterious, timid masked lady, whose identity Brenda refused to reveal, no matter how he cajoled. His curiosity over that little episode was still extreme; he’d never met a woman like her before. Sooner or later, he would find out who she was.
Of course, he’d never met a woman like Carlie, either. She was as unique as any woman could be. He smiled, thinking of her again. Prickly, independent, outspoken Carlie. He surely had enough excitement to keep boredom at bay for some time to come.
* * *
“I can’t believe you chose this movie.”
Carlie smiled in the dim theater, very aware of Tyler sitting beside her. He was dressed in jeans and a dark sweater. She could smell his after-shave, and his own natural, masculine scent. It was comforting, stimulating and very distracting. “I love Mel Gibson.”
“Now, why does that surprise me? Oh, yeah. You’ve made it clear to me on several occasions that macho, sexy men are low on your list.”
“No. I made it clear that men who thought they were macho, sexy men were low on my list.”
“Don’t look at me like that! I never claimed to be macho.”
“Are you claiming to be sensitive, instead?”
“Certainly. Especially in specific areas. Like low on my stomach, the top of my spine...”
Carlie’s breath caught and her skin suffused with heat. He wasn’t lying. She remembered all too well just how sensitive he was in those particular areas. Throughout that one special night, he’d shown her how to give as well as take, and she’d thoroughly enjoyed each lesson.
She elbowed him roughly to cover her reaction. “You’re impossible.”
“Naw.” He waited a heartbeat. “Just very sensitive.”
“Hush, the movie is starting.” Carlie knew she sounded rude, but she didn’t care. Tyler’s flirting was just that, flirting. He did it with every woman he came into contact with, be she nine or ninety. It shouldn’t mean anything, and likely wouldn’t if she wasn’t the mystery woman. But she was, and his words affected her in numerous ways. Her head knew he wasn’t serious, but her heart jumped into a wild cadence of excitement every time he teased.
“Lesson number one, Carlie. You don’t rudely tell your date to hush.”
She shifted her gaze, peering at him in the growing darkness. “Not even when the movie is starting and he’s yakking on about his sexuality and very personal preferences?”
“That’s right. You should have told me where you’re sensitive, too.”
“Oh. Well, let’s see. My feet?”
“You’re not trying to get in the mood here, are you?”
She chuckled, feeling some of her tension ebb at his dry expression. Leaning slightly toward him, she nudged him affectionately with her shoulder. The action surprised them both, and Tyler whispered, “That’s better,” then boldly put his arm around her.
It felt good. Comforting and exciting at the same time. But she had to remind herself this was only a game to him. And she was only a distraction.
“You shouldn’t stiffen up so, either,” he added. “I’m not getting fresh. Just relax.”
The words had been whispered gently in her ear. She could have added it as another sensitive spot, yes, indeed. He was being so careful with her, lightly teasing and so solicitous. She wanted to lean against him, to feel more of his heat against her side. Instead, she stared straight ahead. “Shh. Don’t make me miss the movie.”
It would be okay, Carlie thought, once she managed to relax a little. Tyler would never connect her with the pool house. And he wasn’t attempting to fondle her; his hand wasn’t moving from her shoulder and he wasn’t drawing her nearer to his body. He was just...there. Firm. Nice. Male.
They shared a huge bucket of extra-buttery popcorn and a large cola. Carlie felt Tyler’s eyes on her when she unconsciously licked the butter from her fingers, but when she turned to him, he didn’t say a word. He looked perplexed, annoyed and exasperated. Carlie frowned at him, but he shook his head and looked away. She couldn’t begin to decipher his thoughts, and a few seconds later he excused himself to go buy candy. He returned with a box of chocolates.
“After all that popcorn, you have room for candy?”
Her tone had been whisper-soft, and he answered in kind. “You’re doing it again. You don’t talk to your date as if he’s a glutton. You should say, ‘Oh, candy!’ and thank him for it.”
She contrived a blank expression. “Oh, candy! Thank you.”
He laughed out loud, prompting the people behind him to grumble a complaint.
Carlie whispered, “I gather by your display of humor, I didn’t do it right?”
“You are amusing, Carlie. You really are. Thank you for coming with me tonight.”
Her throat felt tight when she tried to smile. She dropped her gaze to her lap for a moment, then raised it to look at him. “I’m having a good time, too. Thank you for asking me.”
He held her eyes a moment longer, tightened his arm around her in an affectionate squeeze, then turned his attention back to the screen. Carlie silently studied his profile. He wasn’t the puffed-up, conceited egomaniac she’d accused him of being. At least, not now, not with her.
Probably because he was with her; he wasn’t trying to impress or seduce her. He’d claimed boredom, but she wasn’t at all certain that was possible, given his reputation. There was no doubt Tyler Ramsey could have a different date every night of the week, without resorting to asking her out.
But it was nice being with him, knowing he didn’t really see her as a woman, but rather as a companion, someone to spend a few hours with. She thought of the party and trembled.
Tyler accepted that she was heavy, plain and greatly lacking in good taste. He’d made no bones about detesting her choice in clothing. But it had taken only a few small modifications—a wig, colored contacts—and he hadn’t recognized her at all.
With each passing hour, she found herself growing more attracted to him. It had started out being strictly physical. After all, Tyler Ramsey was the kind of man girls dreamed about and women fantasized over. And Carlie had recently lived a few of those fantasies. But now, she realized how easily she could lose her heart.
Carlie thought about the woman she used to be, so frivolous, so anxious to attract her husband’s attention, wanting and needing his approval. She’d failed dismally then, and eventually had learned a valuable lesson. Not that she blamed her husband entirely, for she had failed him in numerous ways. But he hadn’t even tried to be patient with her. He’d thrown out accusations without remorse or consideration to her age and inexperience. At first, she’d been crushed that she wasn’t a sexual person, that she’d failed in the most basic female concepts.
She was older now, wiser, no longer taken in by men and their obscure promises. Her husband hadn’t wasted any time in finding someone who suited his sexual tastes better than she did. It didn’t hurt anymore to remember, nor did it fill her with disappointment and self-reproach. She’d vowed never again to be that vulnerable. And she’d never been tempted to waver from that pledge.