having to take care of the kids and all—well, it's nothing that Ben hasn't said every time he visits us. But hearing it from you..." Her voice trailed off and she shrugged again. "It offended me. I took it personally and got mad."
"So I noticed." Tyler cupped her shoulders with his hands. It felt perfectly natural to touch her. So very right. His fingers kneaded absently, feeling the delicate lines of her
bones, the soft warmth of her skin. He inhaled sharply and slid his hands down the length of her arms. "Look, Carrie, I-"
She whirled away from him and stepped into the pool. "It's time for lunch/' she announced brightly. "Are you hungry, kids? Hungry for lunch?" She sounded so enthusiastic that the children grew quite excited and echoed something sounding like "yunsh."
"Good! Come on," Carrie said encouragingly, helping first Emily, then Franklin, and finally Dylan out of the pool. Franklin and Dylan ran to the house. Emily paused and looked back at Tyler.
"Yunsh?" she said questioningly.
Tyler was absurdly touched. "Are you inviting me to lunch, Emily?"
Emily looked up at him with those big blue eyes of hers, looking tiny and cute with her mop of blond hair and her round, little face. She raised her small arms in an unmistakable demand to be picked up.
"You want me to carry you?" Tyler asked. Emily did not reply, but waited expectantly. Tyler scooped up the little girl and headed toward the house. He had to, he assured himself. Snubbing a one-year-old was inexcusably churlish. "Okay, I'll accept your kind invitation, Emily. I'll have lunch with you."
"Oh, no!" Carrie groaned. She opened the back porch door and the boys clambered inside. Sleuth, the cat, who had been napping on the glider, dashed into the house when he heard them coming.
"What do you mean, 'oh, no'?" demanded Tyler, trailing her into the kitchen.
"Exactly what I said. I thought you'd leave when we came inside."
"We're not fighting anymore," Tyler reminded her. "Why do you want me to leave?"
"Because you're exhausting," she said bluntly. "Being with you is exhausting. And I only had three and a half hours' sleep last night and right now I'm so tired that all I want to do is to feed the kids lunch, put them down for their naps and then crash into bed."
"I like the 'crash into bed' part." Tyler grinned wickedly. "And I am not exhausting, I'm stimulating. Ask any of the Tremaine board of directors who it is that keeps those interminable board meetings from becoming deadly boring. They'll all say it's me."
"Deadly boring can be restful. You, I repeat, are exhausting. That's why I'd like to rescind Emily's invitation to lunch."
It was true, but only the partial truth, Carrie acknowledged grimly. The full, unabridged version would have to include those tantalizing streaks of pleasure that had spun through her when he'd touched her. The almost stunning urge to melt against his big hard body, to press herself into the wiry-soft mat of hair on his chest, to rub her legs against the muscular columns of his.
She hadn't dared let it happen. She had already spent entirely too much time thinking about the way he had kissed her last night, reliving the feel and the touch and the taste of him. She'd even dreamed about it during her paltry three and a half hours of sleep.
What utter insanity! A sexual infatuation she did not need! Aside from being shamefully disloyal to poor dear Ian, getting physical with Tyler Tremaine would be sheer folly, not to mention a guarantee of misery.
The man undoubtedly was accustomed to women throwing themselves at him, to doing anything at all to please him. The only reason he was sticking around now was because she did not try to please him and he found it novel. She related to him on a wholly different level than the other women in his life because she was not one of the women in his life. And she fully intended to keep it that way.
"Let's take off these wet suits/' she said briskly to no one in particular, reaching
"So I noticed." Tyler cupped her shoulders with his hands. It felt perfectly natural to touch her. So very right. His fingers kneaded absently, feeling the delicate lines of her
bones, the soft warmth of her skin. He inhaled sharply and slid his hands down the length of her arms. "Look, Carrie, I-"
She whirled away from him and stepped into the pool. "It's time for lunch/' she announced brightly. "Are you hungry, kids? Hungry for lunch?" She sounded so enthusiastic that the children grew quite excited and echoed something sounding like "yunsh."
"Good! Come on," Carrie said encouragingly, helping first Emily, then Franklin, and finally Dylan out of the pool. Franklin and Dylan ran to the house. Emily paused and looked back at Tyler.
"Yunsh?" she said questioningly.
Tyler was absurdly touched. "Are you inviting me to lunch, Emily?"
Emily looked up at him with those big blue eyes of hers, looking tiny and cute with her mop of blond hair and her round, little face. She raised her small arms in an unmistakable demand to be picked up.
"You want me to carry you?" Tyler asked. Emily did not reply, but waited expectantly. Tyler scooped up the little girl and headed toward the house. He had to, he assured himself. Snubbing a one-year-old was inexcusably churlish. "Okay, I'll accept your kind invitation, Emily. I'll have lunch with you."
"Oh, no!" Carrie groaned. She opened the back porch door and the boys clambered inside. Sleuth, the cat, who had been napping on the glider, dashed into the house when he heard them coming.
"What do you mean, 'oh, no'?" demanded Tyler, trailing her into the kitchen.
"Exactly what I said. I thought you'd leave when we came inside."
"We're not fighting anymore," Tyler reminded her. "Why do you want me to leave?"
"Because you're exhausting," she said bluntly. "Being with you is exhausting. And I only had three and a half hours' sleep last night and right now I'm so tired that all I want to do is to feed the kids lunch, put them down for their naps and then crash into bed."
"I like the 'crash into bed' part." Tyler grinned wickedly. "And I am not exhausting, I'm stimulating. Ask any of the Tremaine board of directors who it is that keeps those interminable board meetings from becoming deadly boring. They'll all say it's me."
"Deadly boring can be restful. You, I repeat, are exhausting. That's why I'd like to rescind Emily's invitation to lunch."
It was true, but only the partial truth, Carrie acknowledged grimly. The full, unabridged version would have to include those tantalizing streaks of pleasure that had spun through her when he'd touched her. The almost stunning urge to melt against his big hard body, to press herself into the wiry-soft mat of hair on his chest, to rub her legs against the muscular columns of his.
She hadn't dared let it happen. She had already spent entirely too much time thinking about the way he had kissed her last night, reliving the feel and the touch and the taste of him. She'd even dreamed about it during her paltry three and a half hours of sleep.
What utter insanity! A sexual infatuation she did not need! Aside from being shamefully disloyal to poor dear Ian, getting physical with Tyler Tremaine would be sheer folly, not to mention a guarantee of misery.
The man undoubtedly was accustomed to women throwing themselves at him, to doing anything at all to please him. The only reason he was sticking around now was because she did not try to please him and he found it novel. She related to him on a wholly different level than the other women in his life because she was not one of the women in his life. And she fully intended to keep it that way.
"Let's take off these wet suits/' she said briskly to no one in particular, reaching
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