“It’s the Latin in him.” Juliette grinned. “Sexy men make sensual, lasting lovers. I should know. We’ve been together for ten years.”
Carly rolled her eyes. They’d had this conversation too many times to count. “What a man’s like in bed is no reflection on whether a couple has a lasting future.”
Juliette raised a knowing eyebrow. “How would you know?”
Carly sighed. “So we haven’t slept together... it doesn’t mean we don’t have staying power.”
“What I don’t get is the why. You’re marrying him. Seems to me you ought to want him, too.”
She twisted uncomfortably in her seat. Not from the topic of conversation, because she and Juliette could talk about anything, but because of the deadly accuracy of her friend’s point. She cared about Peter, but she didn’t much care that they hadn’t consummated their relationship. The desire wasn’t all-consuming and strong... which was a large part of the reason she wanted to marry him. He was safe. Safe from passion, safe from her family’s past. And she loved him for that.
“There’s time, Juliette.”
Her friend leaned forward. “Not if you’re marrying for the wrong reasons. Then you’ll find out too late that you made a mistake.”
“Are you saying my marriage to Peter is wrong?” Carly tensed, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Of course not. Only you would know that. I just worry about you.”
“Well, don’t, because there’s no problem.” A knock on the door prevented Carly from following up on that statement. A good thing, since she didn’t feel as secure as she sounded. After Juliette’s assistant left the tea and two bone-china cups on a table, Juliette poured, then slid Carly’s cup across the glass table.
“Chamomile?” Carly asked, glancing at the light amber-colored liquid.
“This week’s blend is lavender and patchouli. It will soothe your nerves, and some believe it acts as an aphrodisiac. But only you will know whether that is true.”
She eyed Juliette doubtfully.
The older woman shrugged. “What do you have to lose? Drink up and maybe you’ll be the one surprised tonight.”
“Anything is possible,” Carly murmured. She lifted the cup and took a hefty sip.
* * *
Feeling light-headed and giddy, Carly packed the dinner she had ordered from Peter’s favorite gourmet restaurant. She stopped at the liquor store across the street from his office. On a whim she splurged and bought the most expensive brand of champagne the small shop carried. Maybe Juliette was right and tonight would be a special one for her and Peter.
Clutching the bottle under her arm, she waved at the same rotund security guard who’d held the night shift since she was in her teens. He’d seen her grow up and no longer required her to sign in or call after hours.
At eight P.M. the reception area was empty, and Carly wound her way back to the large conference room at the end of a long hall. Hushed voices and a feminine laugh rang out in the quiet office. She rounded the corner and stopped in the doorway. She’d expected to find Peter and one or more of his colleagues hard at work preparing for an important closing in the morning.
Instead she found Peter and a very feminine, very young associate sharing a laugh over a large pizza. The woman appeared relaxed, her stockinged feet perched on a chair beside Peter’s. And Carly’s meticulously neat fiancé had loosened his tie and tucked the end inside his shirt, presumably to avoid stains. He’d rolled up his sleeves and leaned back, feet propped, in a comfortable-looking chair. Unopened legal-size folders sat in a stack on the conference table. From the look of things, they’d remain unopened for a while.
Though she’d had second thoughts about stopping by unannounced, Carly was suddenly glad she had. Their relationship could obviously benefit from added spice and her surprise would be a great start.
“Excuse me.” Carly cleared her throat “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Startled, Peter’s feet hit the floor with a thud. “Carly.”
“Last time I looked.”
He shot her a curious glance. The casual banter that came so naturally around Mike fell flat with Peter.
“This is a surprise,” he said.
“Good or bad?”
His eyebrows creased in confusion. “Neither. It just is.”
Carly forced herself to remain composed. Not an easy task while standing in the doorway holding a picnic basket in one hand and a bottle of bubbly in the other, spouting bad jokes and feeling ridiculously out of place.