of the stack was probably the most innocent of all the photos they’d taken with Carter’s old camera set on a timer. Carter stood straight, tall and completely nude with his back to the camera. Phoebe couldn’t help contrasting the lanky frame in the photograph with the muscle-packed body in front of her. She’d been standing in front of him, completely concealed from the camera by his body except for her forearms and hands. She’d wrapped her arms around his waist to cup his buttocks. Those pale hands could have belonged to anyone except for the identifying heirloom signet ring on her right ring finger—the same ring she wore every day of her life.
Phoebe curled her fist by her side, but it was no use trying to hide the ring. Heat swept through her as she remembered how his thick erection had burned against her stomach, her nipples had scraped his bare chest and how his own hands had cupped her bottom. Moments after the shutter clicked he’d lifted her, filled her with one deep stroke, and loved her until they’d both collapsed on the floor, too weak to move until the sound of his roommate’s key grating in the lock had sent them scrambling for their clothing.
She’d loved Carter Jones beyond reason and this picture brought those feelings rushing back with a force she couldn’t dam. Fast on the heels of the hot, fizzy arousal racing through her blood came pain—the pain of his desertion. He hadn’t loved her enough.
She always lost the ones she loved. She’d been abandoned by her fun-loving parents when she was seven. They’d been killed in a rebel uprising in some godforsaken land six years later. The signet ring was the only memento she had of her mother. Her grandmother, who’d become Phoebe’s surrogate mother, had passed away quickly and unexpectedly four months after Phoebe started at the university, and then Phoebe had lost Carter five months later.
Her grandfather was the only family Phoebe had left, and now it seemed her grandfather’s approval hinged on her standing beside him in his presidential bid. Heaven only knew what would happen if these pictures leaked out and Phoebe’s indiscretion tainted his campaign. Would he abandon her, too, or did he love her enough to forgive her for her wild and impetuous first love? It wasn’t a chance she was willing to take.
“I’ll buy them from you. How much do you want?”
“The pictures aren’t for sale.” His hard expression warned her not to waste time arguing.
Unable to bear looking through the rest of the photos, Phoebe passed them back. “Then I want the negatives as a show of good faith.”
“No can do, sugar. Not until the last date.”
Sugar. Sweet to the taste and habit-forming. She closed her eyes against the memory of him looking up at her from between her legs with a smile slanting his damp lips as he uttered those words. She lifted her eyelids and met Carter’s gaze. The watchful expression on his face told her he also remembered the often-repeated phrase and its context.
“I want your word that you won’t show these pictures to anyone else.”
“You have it,” he replied without hesitation.
Phoebe bolstered her resistance. “When do we start?”
“Tomorrow. Where are you staying?”
“My grandfather’s home in Raleigh.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
“No.” Alarm raced through her bloodstream. “That’s not necessary. I’ll meet you.”
Carter’s jaw turned to granite. “Still worried what Granddad will say if your former classmate turns up on your doorstep?”
He remembered the awkward introduction to her grandfather, but he hadn’t waited around long enough for Phoebe to explain why she’d been so cautious. “He’s out of town.”
His lips curled in disgust. “Figures. I pick my dates up and I see them back to their door…unless they spend the night with me.”
A nerve beneath her right eye twitched—a telltale sign of stress she’d never been able to conquer. “That will not be the case. I’ll meet you here and then you can see me back to my car door.”
His mouth set in a militant line and he looked ready to argue, but then he acquiesced with a sharp nod. “Fine. Six.”
Her heart stuttered. One battle won, but certainly not the war. Phoebe Lancaster Drew, what have you gotten yourself into?
He’d expected Phoebe to chicken out. Instead she arrived thirty-three minutes early.
Carter lowered the dumbbell to the floor and wiped the sweat from his face with a towel. The slamming of his heart had nothing to do with his strenuous workout and everything to do with the slender woman striding up his front walk. The knowledge didn’t please him.
It had been a bitch of a day—mainly because he couldn’t keep his mind off tonight. Jes, his executive assistant, had threatened to quit if Carter didn’t stop barking commands. Jes had claimed it was bad enough he was working on a Sunday to finish a last-minute proposal. Finally, Carter had left work and come home to take out his frustration on his free weights. He descended the stairs from his upstairs workout room and opened the door before Phoebe could ring the bell.
Her dark brows lifted as she inspected his sweaty workout tank and shorts. She tilted her head and firmed her mouth. “Am I overdressed?”
He checked out her tailored dress—a close twin to yesterday’s stuffy and uptight suit. The navy-blue fabric gently draped her breasts, but it couldn’t hide the pebbling of her nipples. Unfortunately the concealing garment skimmed past the curve of her hips to cover most of her long legs. Too bad. Phoebe had first-class legs.
“You’re early. I need to get ready.”
“I allowed extra time for traffic but there wasn’t any. Besides, the sooner we start, the sooner I can get home.”
Her barb caught him like a sucker punch, but damn if he’d let it show. He hid his irritation by wiping his sweaty face with the towel and gesturing for her to come inside. “You want to look around while I shower and dress or do you want to wait for the guided tour?”
“Neither, thanks.” She declined and insulted so politely Carter just shook his head.
“Give me ten minutes. There’s iced tea in the fridge. Help yourself.” He gestured toward the kitchen and then headed for the master suite.
Carter stripped and stepped under the shower spray, pondering how he could still find Phoebe attractive after all this time. Soaping his shoulders, he shrugged. Probably because they’d explored all kinds of uncharted territory with an uninhibited thirst for knowledge that he hadn’t experienced since. Blood pooled in his groin and his heart pumped double-time at the mythological proportions of his memories. What better way to debunk that myth than by spending a month in her company? Then he’d find himself a sweet local gal, settle down and have kids.
Roots. That’s what this old house was all about. He’d spent most of his life traveling the globe, and it was time to put down roots, to make his own history. Surely a family of his own would fill the void inside him? His parents didn’t count since his dad was stationed halfway around the world and Carter rarely saw them.
He wanted a love like theirs—the kind that meant no sacrifice was too great. In all the years of their marriage, Carter had never heard
