“I think she might be back.”
“Who?”
“Her.”
“Her? You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”
“The blonde.”
“The blonde? Nope, still need more.”
Scott halted his pacing and glared. “Her. The blonde. The only woman to ever totally mess with my head. Her.”
A long moment passed before Nick sucked in a breath. “Ooohhh, her.”
Scott scowled. “Didn’t I say that clear enough the first time?”
“Hey, just take a minute, okay?”
“Take a minute?” Scott squeezed his eyes shut. “I haven’t had a single minute of head space since I almost knocked her off her feet in town last night. Jesus, Nick, you’ve got to do something.”
“I’ve got to do something? What does that mean? I never saw the woman.”
Scott stopped pacing. “You’re my friend, aren’t you? You’ve got to help me find her.”
Nick huffed out a laugh. “What’s the matter with you? Even if it was her, you’ve got enough sense to stay the hell away, right?”
Scott opened his eyes and glared toward the open garage door. Dark storm clouds gathered in the distance like an omen. Nick was right, finding her would surely lead to trouble. Trouble he didn’t need...but there was no way in hell he could let this go. He had to know if she was really Carrie. What he’d do about it if she was, he hadn’t figured out yet, but right then, not knowing ate at him from the inside out.
“Scott? Did you hear what I said?”
“I heard you.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“I’m guessing you haven’t spoken to her, so forget her.”
“How could I have spoken to her when I barely saw her?”
“Then what’s the problem here, man? If you haven’t spoken to her—”
“She smelled the same.” Scott closed one eye against the pain of his pitiful feelings.
“What?”
“She smelled the same. Exactly as I remember. Her hair is shorter but just as thick, just as pissing sexy as it was then.”
“You hear yourself, right? This is ridiculous. What is it you want me to do exactly? Come down there and put you in a damn straitjacket?”
“I’ve got plans, Nick. You know I’ve got plans.”
“Damn right I do. Plans that will make you rich after all the blood, sweat and tears you’ve put into that garage. So, what’s the problem?”
“She is. Having her turn up here.”
“I don’t understand. You’re saying if this mystery woman is the one you spent a few nights with, it changes everything? Don’t talk crap, man. This is one woman. A woman who disappeared. Who never called. I’ll be honest with you. I hope to God it isn’t her. She’s a hassle you don’t need.”
“How can either of us know that?” Protectiveness for Carrie burned like a fireball inside Scott’s chest. He clenched the phone. Memories of the way her body felt in his hands, the texture of skin as smooth as silk beneath his lips...
“Because of you. That’s how.” Nick sighed. “You love women, but you’ve never loved a woman like you did her. You fell like a shot, man. Bam! Face down on the floor with no idea how to get the hell back up. You don’t need that again. I’m telling you right now, if it’s her, get on your damn bike and leave the Cove today.”
“Sure. I’ll just run away. Don’t bother telling Mum or my sisters what I’m doing...” The click-clack of high heels yanked Scott’s head up like it was attached by a rubber band to the ceiling. He stared toward the door, his heart picking up speed.
Click, clack. Click, clack.
“Scott? You still there?” Nick’s voice filtered down the line.
Tension rippled through Scott’s body and his heart beat fast. Carrie came through the open door and halted. Their eyes locked.
Scott’s mouth drained dry. “I’ve gotta go.” He snapped the phone closed.
She stepped farther into the garage and closed her umbrella. He might have been mistaken, but he could have sworn her eyes widened as she cast her gaze over his chest. Before his ego could inflate an inch, their eyes met. God, she was beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed but her gaze steady as she clutched her purse at her stomach.
She tilted her chin. “Hello, Scott.”
That voice. He swallowed and crossed his arms, fighting a wince when his elbow knocked his injured hand. “So it was you I saw in town last night.”
She stiffened. “You saw me?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
Time stood still and he cast his gaze over her face and body before he could stop himself. Desire burned and mixed with the shock pulsating through him. The atmosphere crackled, showing him all too clearly nothing had changed about his hot and crazy sexual attraction to this woman. He still wanted her, would willingly take her against the garage wall right then if she asked him.
She came closer and halted less than five feet away. He curled his hands into fists to stop from reaching for her as her gaze wandered over his face and chest, lingering at his bandaged hand before she met his eyes once more. “I have to talk to you.”
Her soft, husky voice whispered over his senses, raising every hair on his body, making his dick twitch awake as though it’d been dormant for three long years. He purposefully slammed his defenses into place. “Is that so?”
Her eyes flashed with a fire he remembered only too well when they’d been face-to-face at The Coast Inn. “Yes.” She glanced around the garage. “I’m sorry to turn up unannounced like this, but I’m here and we need to talk.”
He stared at her in disbelief as questions, demands and weaknesses hurtled around inside him, battling with the intense sexual frustration storming through his body. “Just like that, you turn up and say, ‘We need to talk’?” He shook his head and turned away from her, lest he get caught in the snare of her wide, impossibly gorgeous eyes. “Go away.”
“No.”
Keeping his back to her, he uncrossed his arms and planted his hands on his hips. He tipped his head back and smiled as insanity rushed his bloodstream. He wanted to grab her, shake her, kiss her and make love to her. God, he wanted to drop to his damn knees in front of her and beg her to tell him where she’d been and now she was back, was she back for good?
“Scott?”
He closed his eyes, barely resisting the urge to cover his ears and block out her voice, achingly laced with the unmistakable sound of a plea. “Whether you want to see me or not, I have to talk to you, and I won’t leave the Cove until you listen to me.”
Her heels clicked closer and his body tensed, waiting for what came next. The dangerous, musky scent of her perfume wafted under his nostrils and he inhaled. She approached the bench beside him and put down a business card. “My number’s on there. I’m staying at the Christie. Call me when you’re ready to talk. It’s important or I wouldn’t have come.”
He glanced at the card. Carrie Jameson. Producer.
She turned and walked away. He let her go, feeling like a smashed-up car after a hurricane, tossed and turned