Unconditional

“What do you want?” I demand. I spent last night alone with a bottle of whiskey, trying to drink Carina off my mind. Some plan: I woke to a killer hangover and an empty bed. Now I’m storming around the bar, trying not to bite the head off of anyone who looks at me funny.

“Easy, cowboy.” Brit frowns. “What’s up with you?”

I force myself to take a breath. “Nothing, I’m just…stressed.”

“Is Princess giving you a hard time?” Brit’s mouth twists in a scowl. She flickers her eyes upwards to where Carina is clattering around, redecorating that mess of an apartment.

I tense. “Don’t call her that.”

“What? C’mon,” Brit says with a conspiratorial smile, “I can’t believe you let her stay. She’s the last person I figured would show up here. Are they building a new wing on her mansion or something?”

The scorn in her voice is clear, and it sends my hackles up. “I said, don’t,” I snap. “Can you just give her a break?”

Brit blinks, looking surprised. “Why are you defending her?”

“I’m not,” I lie, fighting to keep my temper under control. “I’m just saying, you don’t know her, that’s all.”

“I know Juliet,” Brit protests, “and that’s plenty. You know they barely speak? Carina almost didn’t show up for the wedding.”

“It’s none of our business,” I growl at her. My hands are tied, I can’t tell Brit what’s going on with Carina without breaking her confidence, but I can’t stand to hear Brit talk like this. “We don’t know what their history is like, so how about you stop being so damn judgmental and give the girl a chance?”

Brit’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t flinch. She mimes zipping up her lips. “Subject dropped. Whatever you say, boss.”

“Thanks.” I take a breath, trying not to think of Carina. “How’s it going with you, anyway?” I change the subject. “Did you get those designs finished?”

“Barely.” Brit gives me a look, but doesn’t press it. “I sent them all over, and then I have to go present in person next week.”

“You’ll be great,” I tell her. “You’ll blow them away.”

Suddenly, there’s a crashing noise overhead. We both look up.

“Is she redecorating or doing demo?” Brit murmurs.

There’s another crash and what sounds like a yelp. I bolt for the hallway.

“Carina?” I call, taking the stairs two at a time. “Are you OK?”

I burst through the door and look around. The radio is playing loud, some country song,

and there’s messes and boxes everywhere in the main room, but no sign of her. I move towards the kitchen door, still panicked. What I see there makes me stop dead in my tracks.

Carina is painting the walls, wearing a tiny pair of cut-off shorts that look downright illegal, an old T-shirt knotted up above her flat, tanned stomach. She’s got splatters of paint on her skin, her hair twisted in a messy bun, singing along like nobody in the world is watching.

“Gone like a freight train, gone like yesterday!” Her voice is amazing, strong and pure. She reaches up to dollop paint on the wall, shaking her ass in time with the beat.

She’s motion and sunlight, energy and joy. My heart swells in my chest just watching her, a world away from that broken, tense girl who showed up at the house a week ago.

“Gone like a—” Carina stops dead, noticing me standing there. “Garrett!” She blushes, lowering the paintbrush. “Hey, umm, hi. I didn’t hear you come up.”

“Sorry.” I clear my throat. Dammit, she looks so beautiful—so breathless and free, her cheeks flushed.

The same way she looked when you kissed her.

A surge of desire courses through me. I want to grab her right now, shove her up against that wall and just take her. Hard. Peel those clothes from her body, smear paint across her na**d skin…

“Garrett?”

I snap back. Carina is staring at me, waiting.Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I swear I see a ripple of desire on her face, those beautiful blue eyes widened, her lips apart.

Dear Lord.

The war rages inside me, almost more than I can stand. She’s only a few feet away; I could reach her in a heartbeat. I could make these fantasies a reality, show her the pleasure that taunts me late in my dreams.

But then what? my voice of reason demands. You’d be no better than the rest.

I clear my throat. “Oh, yeah. I, umm, heard the noise?”

“Sorry.” Carina bites her lip, and dammit if I don’t feel another bolt of lust. “It was the cabinets. They’re practically falling apart, so I figured I could just rip them out.”

I see the pile of broken timber. “Call me if you need stuff like that done. You could hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Carina laughs. “It’s kind of fun. Getting all my tension out, you know?”

I do. I could help with that tension, and I know a million places I would start. Up against that wall, on the floor, over the kitchen counter…

“Just call me,” I manage in a strangled response, turning away before she can see what she’s doing to my body. “You know I’m right downstairs.”

I leave before I have a chance to do something I regret.

Downstairs, I retreat to my office and wait for the raging lust to subside. I pace angrily in the small room, but all I can see is Carina, so close, but so far away.