The Morning After Read online

  “I’m glad to see you though.” She gave smiling a try, rather unconvincingly.

  Her lip wobbled. Was that a hint of moisture in her eyes?

  Ethan strode forward. “I’m going to pull you out. Can you get your hands free?”

  The costume was so huge, her head and shoulders were plainly visible within the gaping hole. He could reach in, get his hands under her armpits…Ethan blinked. Her naked armpits. He put his head close to hers, and peered down into the costume’s shadowy depths. “What are you wearing?”

  Cara clenched her eyes tight. “Nothing.”

  A vivid vision of Cara naked flashed in Ethan’s mind, heating his blood and causing his whole body to tense instantly. He gritted his teeth, and forced himself to think of something else. Anything except his best friend naked. “Tell me you’re kidding,” he hissed in a deep voice.

  “I’m kidding.” The corner of her mouth turned up in an unconvincing smile. “But only just. I’m in my underwear.”

  A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead.

  Ethan glanced around. Now that Winnie The Pooh’s head was off, the little crowd had lost interest, and had wandered over to watch the pop group that was tuning up on the other side of the park. He needed to get her out of here. And there was only one way to do it. “I hope you’re wearing your pretty set, rather than your granny knickers.”

  Cara’s eyes widened.

  “Stick your arms out.” Ethan reached in through the open head of the costume and rested his hands on her bare shoulders. A shot of electricity flashed through his hands up his arms and jump-started his heart into a frantic drum-roll. His fingers curled convulsively around Cara’s softly curved shoulders. What on earth was going on? He’d never had that reaction touching Cara before; she was the one woman in the world he wasn’t attracted to in that way…

  But now, staring into the azure pools of her eyes, he felt like he was drowning.

  Her tongue swept across her bottom lip.

  And desire blazed through Ethan like a forest fire. The urge to taste her lips welled up out of nowhere. Attraction simmered in the air between their bodies. She was feeling it too; her expanding irises and sudden stillness were testament to that.

  Cara glanced away. “So, how’s this going to work?”

  Her words threw him into confusion. It couldn’t work, her relationship had just gone belly-up, and he…he never had long-term relationships. He cleared his throat.

  Cara frowned. “Ethan, get me out of this damn costume.” Her voice held an edge of panic.

  Reality seeped through the fog in his brain. Of course, she wasn’t talking about their shifting relationship, she was talking about something much more urgent. The need to get her free.

  She wriggled, then both her arms slipped through the opening. Ethan bent and slid his hands down to her ribcage, grasping her firmly. Her hands linked behind his neck.

  “Ready?” He tried not to react to the feel of her breath against his cheek. Clenched his teeth tight to force the attraction onto the back burner.

  “Ready,” she whispered.

  With one huge effort, Ethan pulled her from the costume.

  Her face was against his neck. Her chest melded to his as she shimmied out of the confining suit into his arms.

  Her legs were half in, half out, and he slipped an arm around her bottom and jerked. Arms full of half-naked warm woman, Ethan closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in her musky scent.

  ****

  Talk about out of the frying pan into the fire. Every inch of Cara’s body was pressed hard against Ethan’s. His long hair brushed against the backs of her fingers. Her lips were at his strong column of neck, and her breasts were squashed against his hard expanse of chest.

  One hand held onto her bottom, and a flush of heat bloomed in her stomach at the contact.

  This. This was what was missing in her relationship with Michael. How could she even consider marrying someone who didn’t arouse such exciting feelings in her? She didn’t want Ethan to let her go. She wanted to rip off his T-shirt and feel his naked flesh against hers. Wanted to kiss him, long and deep, and wrap her legs around his waist.

  Rapid fire clicking.

  Ethan cursed loudly. He slid her down his body to the ground. Her legs wobbled as her Converse All stars settled on the damp grass.

  Ethan ripped off his hoodie. “Put it on.” He held it open as she slipped her arms into the oversized garment. And stood quiet as a child as his long tanned fingers slipped the tab home, and zipped up to her neck.

  He glanced at her bare legs. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “My clothes…”

  Ethan’s dark chocolate gaze searched hers. “Where?”

  Cara pointed. “In the trailer.”

  Ethan’s arm circled her waist. He strode across the field so fast she had to jog to keep up. “We need to get out of here. Someone was taking photographs.” He glanced behind them, his strong jaw clenched tight.

  Everywhere he went people took photographs.

  Cara bit her bottom lip. How on earth would she explain the picture to Michael? And her parents—who were so ready to see the worst in every situation after that wild incident in her past?

  “Grab your stuff,” Ethan demanded as they reached the trailer. “Don’t hang around to change. You can pick your car up later, I’ll bring mine around.”

  Ten minutes later they were in his car, speeding through the country roads to the cottage she rented on the outskirts of town. Dappled sunlight streaks flashed through the windshield, cast by the avenue of tall beeches straddling the road. Cara’s jeans were inside out. She tried to untangle them, then gave up, and leaned back against the seat’s warm leather interior.

  “They’re going to wonder where I’ve gone.” No doubt the sight of a headless Winnie the Pooh would cause nightmares tonight for some of the toddlers who came across it. She couldn’t make herself care though. Being stuck inside the dark costume had been terrible. And when she’d seen Ethan’s familiar face she’d thought she’d faint with relief.

  Something beeped in the pile of clothes on her lap. “I must have a message,” she said.

  “You missed at least five from me,” Ethan said. “I’ve been trying to contact you all morning.”

  Curiosity niggled. “I’m coming to the premiere and the dinner, why would you need to get hold of me so urgently?”

  Ethan’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He gazed through the windshield, and jerked his head as her cottage came into view. “This is you, right?”

  The niggle turned into an ache. “Yes.” She’d only seen Ethan so serious once or twice in the years since they’d been friends. When there was trouble.

  The powerful car surged up the driveway, then came to a stop at her cherry-red front door. “We’ll talk inside.”

  In the tiny kitchen, Cara dumped her clothes onto the heavy pine table. “Put the kettle on, then. I’ll get dressed.” She turned her back. But still felt his gaze on her.

  He didn’t move.

  She swiveled to face him. “Ethan?”

  His dark brown eyes, fringed with lashes so long they were positively indecent on a man stared into hers. His long hair flopped across his forehead, and he pushed it back with a tanned hand. His mouth…

  Cara couldn’t seem to stop looking at his mouth.

  When he spoke it was in a tortured rasp. “Have you spoken to Michael today?”

  Cara closed her eyes. Guilt sliced through her like a knife. What was the matter with her? Michael Maguire, the man who wanted to marry her, hadn’t even flickered through her mind since Ethan had appeared. She was having naughty fantasies about having her very own steamy Crash Carrigan love scene in her kitchen, when she should be having those fantasies about Michael. And she’d never, ever fancied Ethan before.

  Heat flushed her cheeks. “I haven’t spoken to Michael since yesterday afternoon,” she muttered. “He’s been working.” She fumbled with the clothes on
the table, pulling out her cell-phone. Six missed calls, and a couple of text messages. “He’s probably been trying to get in contact with me too.”

  Ethan stepped close. So close her nipples peaked beneath his sweatshirt. His hand cupped her jaw as he tilted her face up to his.

  “I’ve something to tell you.”

  Chapter Three

  Cara jerked away from Ethan’s hand. She took a step back, a frown creasing between her eyebrows. Her pixie chin tilted up in a familiar ‘go on then, I’m braced for it’ challenge.

  Ethan swallowed. Ridiculous as it was, that look from this pocket Venus was enough to make him wish he was somewhere else. Anywhere else but standing before Cara as she waited for him to elaborate.

  That look probably got her class full of teenage boys to pay attention.

  Despite the fact that her legs were bare, and she was covered from shoulder to mid-thigh in his hoodie, she looked like a strong, confident woman who would balk at nothing. But they were friends. Closer than family. And that look couldn’t fool him. It masked Cara’s soft center. A gentle heart that would be crushed when she learned the truth of her lover’s betrayal. Ethan’s hands curled into fists. “You better sit down.”

  Cara rolled her eyes. “Come on, Ethan.” Her voice was laced with just the right amount of light scorn. Then she stilled and grasped his arm. The color bled from her face. “Oh Christ, has there been an accident? Is Michael…”

  Why was he making such a mess of this?

  Ethan shook his head. “He’s fine.” He helped her onto the nearest chair, and sat down opposite her, pulling his chair close so their knees were touching. “But he’s not the guy you think he is.”

  Cara’s shoulders stiffened.

  Ethan took a deep breath, and prepared himself for breaking her heart. “I came into town yesterday, and met up with Sean for a drink.” His throat was dry—a drink right about now might be good. “Anyway, I saw Michael in the club.”

  “But he was working last night.” Cara’s voice was barely louder than a whisper.

  “Maybe he told you he was working, but I saw him. With a woman.”

  Cara’s eyes widened. She looked like a puppy that had been kicked.

  Ethan’s heart clenched. He knew that feeling, only too well. He gritted his teeth, and ploughed on. She deserved to know all the gory details. “I’m telling you because you need to know.” He reached for her hand and warmed it between both of his. “He was kissing the woman.”

  Cara gasped. The fingers captured between his hands fluttered and shook. “I…” Her head shook in rapid shakes back and forth in fervent rejection of his words.

  Ethan focused all his attention on her white face. “There’s no mistake.” His voice was deep and quiet. “He was messing around, when he’d already asked you to be his bride.”

  “Did he see you?” Cara forced out through white lips.

  “Yeah, about thirty seconds before I hit him.” Ethan felt his mouth stretch in a tight smile.

  “You hit…”

  Ethan crossed his arms. “He deserved it.”

  A ringing cut through the silence. Ethan reached into his pocket to fish out his cell phone, pressing a button to send it to voicemail without even glancing at the display to see who was calling.

  “I need to talk to him.” Cara stood. She scanned the messages on her phone. “He rang me this morning and left a message. I need to listen to it.”

  Ethan’s phone rang again.

  Cara glanced at his pocket. “You better answer that, it could be important.” Clutching her phone, she walked from the kitchen into the sitting room.

  She was hurting. And she had more hurt on the way, when she heard confirmation from Michael’s own lips.

  Ethan flicked his cell phone to voicemail again, and strode into the sitting room.

  Cara was curled up on the red leather sofa. The phone was clamped against her ear, and her eyes were scrunched up tight. Her free arm was wrapped around her stomach—as if holding herself together.

  Ethan stopped in the doorway. Maybe he should give her some privacy. He discarded that idea the moment it formed. She didn’t need privacy, she needed a friend. And luckily, she had one. “Cara.”

  Her eyes opened. She snapped her phone shut and placed it carefully on the sofa next to her. “He left me a message.”

  Ethan picked up her phone and sat down next to her. “May I?”

  She nodded.

  Michael’s familiar voice replayed. “You’ve probably already heard from your friend. And yes, I won’t bother to deny it. I was out with a woman. And, as his bloody brother was there to witness it, I won’t waste your time and mine in pretending it was innocent.”

  Ethan glanced at Cara.

  She stared at the wall.

  “The truth is you’re a bit of a cold fish. A man needs a willing woman sometimes.” Michael’s voice was laced with bitterness. “I know it’s over between us. Don’t bother calling me back, I’m turning my phone off and going to Dublin for a few days.”

  Dead air filled the space where his apology should have been.

  “Cara.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Ethan. And I’d like you to go.” Cara stood hugging herself. Avoiding his eyes.

  Ethan wanted to pull her into his arms. Reassure her that everything would be all right. He wanted to tell her that Michael had always been an ass, since he’d been captain of the rugby team, always chasing girls with big breasts and come-hither eyes. But adding to her grief wouldn’t help. She’d asked him to go, and he would. “The premiere is at eight,” he said. “I’ll be here to pick you up.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not going.”

  There was too much space between them. He closed it, grasping her upper arms gently. “If you don’t go, everyone will want to know why. You’ve been involved with the fundraiser for the hospital from the outset. You’re on the committee. It was your idea, for God’s sake. You’re going. With me.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back at seven-thirty. Be ready.”

  ****

  Three hours and a bucket of Haagan-Dazs later, Cara wandered into her bathroom. She peered in the mirror. Swollen, bloodshot eyes peered back. With a twist of the faucet, the basin filled with cold water. She wrung out a flannel and sat on the toilet seat, flopping the wet cloth over her face.

  Her shoulders relaxed as the cold water soothed. Ethan was right. If she didn’t go to the premiere, everyone would want to know why. They’d call, maybe even turn up at her house to find out what was wrong. She couldn’t let that happen. It would make her humiliation so much worse.

  The only thing for it was to dress up in the slinky number she’d bought specially for the occasion, put a brave face on, and make some excuse for Michael’s absence. The bad news could come out tomorrow. Tonight the success of the fundraiser must be her only concern.

  An hour later, the doorbell rang.

  Cara glanced out the bedroom window.

  A long, black limousine idled by the curb, with a uniformed driver staring straight ahead. She checked herself out in the mirror. Glittery purple dress. A quick turn around made sure vpl’s were absent. Matching killer heels—hopefully she wouldn’t have to walk far in them. Carefully applied makeup had banished the crying jag from earlier, and her hair looked okay too—it should, she’d spent long enough taming it.

  She tried out her party smile. Not great, but it’d have to do.

  The doorbell rang again, obviously jabbed a couple of times in quick succession. She caught a glimpse of her first real smile in hours as she turned from the mirror. Her heart warmed. Ethan was there for her. He was always there for her. She grabbed her matching purple bag from the bed, and hurried to open the door.

  “Wow.” Ethan’s wide grin set off a tingle of reaction in her stomach. “You look…” His gaze swept her head to toe. “Fantastic.”

  He looked pretty damn fantastic too, in a fitted black suit, black shirt and black silk tie. Not many men could c
arry off such a severe look, but with his long hair brushing his shoulders and that hint of stubble, Ethan looked every inch the Hollywood movie star.

  She breathed in the scent of sandalwood and man, and a wobbly, swoony feeling swept through her. “You look pretty fantastic yourself,” she whispered.

  “We’re well matched then.” Ethan took her hand. “Ready to go?”

  In the limo, Ethan carefully poured her a glass of champagne. “I thought we could do with a glass before we get there.”

  “Do you always have a drink before you go out to things?” Her voice sounded sharp. “I mean, you’re not drinking too much, are you, Ethan?” Her hand covered his.

  Ethan swallowed a mouthful. “I don’t drink too much. And no, I don’t usually have a drink before I go out to things.”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  His gaze burned her to her spine with its intensity. “I know what you meant,” he said in a soft voice. “You were thinking of my father. But believe me, I have enough friends in the business who abuse alcohol, and I’m not inclined to become a user. I know how that can turn out.” He gazed out the window.

  “So the champagne’s for me, then?”

  At the teasing tone in her voice, Ethan turned back. “Yes. I thought you could do with some Dutch courage before facing everyone.”

  Cara put her glass down carefully on the built in table and reached out to trail a hand over his jaw. “Come here you.”

  He leaned closer.

  She kissed his cheek, feeling the stubble against her lips. “You are a good friend, Ethan Quinn, and I don’t think I’ve told you how much I appreciate you.”

  If his face angled, their lips would meet.

  Cara pulled back. “So.” She sucked in a deep breath, and forced a lightness into her voice she sure didn’t feel. “You hit him. Tell me all about it.”

  “It was a real Crash Carrigan move. Uppercut to the jaw. He went down like a sack of potatoes.”

  A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside, releasing the pain and angst with it as it filled the close confines of the car.