Part 6

Rachel woke the following morning a happy woman. The crazy events of the night before were not a dream, that she knew without a doubt. Carl’s precious self had been placed on the auction block and she’d snapped him up to the tune of fifty thousand dollars. He belonged to her. At least he would whenever her bank wired the funds through to the Applettes.

Stifling a giggle at memories of last night, she stood before the full-length cheval glass. The imprint of his lips still lingered on her own. If only she’d been able to keep her hands on him after the sale, those lips could’ve spent the morning exploring something other than her mouth. Not to mentions the long, lovely stroll his hands would have taken. The thought made her shiver.

"Bad girl," she chastised her reflection before shrugging into her worn, comfy robe she’d taken to using as of late. Grabbing her toiletries she practically floated down the hall to her floor’s communal bathroom.

"…still asleep. Wouldn’t you be after what she did last night? It’s not every day you drop a chunk of change on a hunk of man like that."

"I wouldn’t call him a hunk. He didn’t spend the night either. You’d think she’d be dying to see him."

The voices were coming from the room next to hers. Rachel recognized them as belonging to the maid and the desk clerk.

"I had no idea he’d be there," a third voice she recognized as Ronda, her newfound friend. "I know a bunch of ladies who’d give their right arms for a chance at him."

"Can you blame them?"

Murmurs of agreement floated out to where Rachel stood frozen. She didn’t like eavesdropping, even when it was about her, but she couldn’t help herself.

"’Course, I always hoped he’d find someone," the maid added. "He’s a really nice guy even if he does keep to himself way too much."

"I agree. He deserves some happiness after all he’s been through. It was so hard to watch him when…" A slamming door at the end of the hall covered the rest of Ronda’s words. "I just don’t think this Rachel is the one for him."

Excuse me, but what would Ronda know?

"What makes you say that Ronda?"

Yeah Ronda.

"I dunno. Really can’t put my finger on it except to point out how she was dressed last night."

"I wasn’t there," the maid said, "but I got a look at her things while cleaning her room. All business clothes and she sleeps in this ratty old gown."

Rachel glanced down at her old robe. She didn’t know whether she should be disturbed at strangers discussing her computability with Carl or that the maid was scoping out her wardrobe. So her robe was worn, it wasn’t as though she’d packed for this trip with seduction in mind. She hadn’t expected to run into Carl. Besides, what did they know?

"See what I mean. I bet Carl’s used to someone with class."

"Mmhmm, just look at the women with which he keeps company."

Women? What women? The old green-eyed monster stirred to life.

"Lorna for one, she’s classy."

"HAH!" Rachel clamped her hands over her mouth and hoped they hadn’t heard her.

"Did you hear something?"

DAMN!!

"Nope."

Rachel raced back to her room and slammed the door. So a bunch of strangers didn’t think she was woman enough for Carl, huh? As if any of them could cut the mustard.

Annoyed, she whipped the armoire door open and rifled through her wardrobe. Okay, she’d have to agree she hadn’t thought to bring a decent piece of casual clothing. Assuming she wanted to seduce Carl, she’d also failed to include her best lingerie. Hey, she enjoyed the practicality of cotton.

In fact, now that she thought about her undies, not to mention her outerwear, she realized they were as matronly as the next grandma’s.

"When did I get so old?" she moaned. There wasn’t one thing at her disposal that she wanted be wearing when she ‘bumped’ into Carl again. Assuming she wanted to see him again.

She wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself—wild horses couldn’t keep her away from him now. Maybe she should’ve just thrown him over her shoulder, brought him back to the Inn and chained him to the bed. At least there’d be no worrying about what to wear.

She heard a knock at the door. "Rachel? You in there?"

"Ronda!" Rachel yanked open the door. "Ronda, I’m desperate. I need your help."

"Good mornin’ to you too."

"I haven’t time for pleasantries. I’m not even going to ask you why you’re here." Other than to gossip about her. Rachel raced around the room pulling together something to wear. "I need some advice."

"O-kay."

"Now, here’s what I need," said Rachel, then carefully explained her plan.

*(*

Miles outside sleepy little Apple Creek, Carl was dealing with his own early morning realizations. And he didn’t like it one bit.

The fact he’d allowed himself to participate in a bachelor auction he could accept. It really hadn’t been as devastating experience as he’d first believed. In fact, under other circumstances, it would have been quite charming. He’d rather enjoyed himself last night until…

Rachel. His normally quick mind refused to wrap itself around that tidbit of reality. He’d been blown away when her face had floated out of the crowd. Blown away was an inadequate phrase for how he’d felt, still felt, at seeing her. Not to mention the kiss--it had been divine, touching, hot and about a hundred other things.

And because those nagging sensations had bombarded him all at once, he uncharacteristically fled the auditorium like a coward. Now he felt like an expensive grade-A heel.

Carl’s raging headache thumped inside his forehead, reminding him he was definitely awake. Oh, to sleep again. He could forget he’d ever known Rachel Cory.

He should go to town and track her down. Wouldn’t be too difficult. By now apple Creek would be aflame with news of the rich, foolish stranger. He could see her, maybe talk to her in a civilized, controlled setting. Find out how she came to be on HIS turf and tell her to take her money and run. That’s what he would have done a lifetime ago. This Carl, this man he’d become, wouldn’t do that. This Carl had work to do, breakfast to eat and aspirin to take. This Carl needed a plan, and quick, or he’d lose himself yet again.

*(*

Rachel’s fingers tapped the steering wheel of Ronda’s SUV and marveled at the difference a day really did make. Yesterday she’d been depressed about being stuck in a tiny town with no wheels and little luck. Now she was seemingly on top of the world with Carl right at her very fingertips. How much better could it get? Well, a lot. After all, Carl had tucked tail and run last night—not a good sign.

Rachel wrested herself from her thoughts as she remembered Ronda’s directions. Ten miles out of town, the second dirt road on the left, after the giant ceramic rooster. A giant rooster statue? There it stood, larger than life and dead ahead. This was certainly not Carl’s element. Without a doubt she’d wake up in a second and find this was all a dream.

Turning, she continued along the road enjoying the scenery. This place was just as remote as Ronda promised. Carl was a private man, but him living out in the country was somewhat farfetched. She just couldn’t see him here—he was a penthouse and limo sort of man, not pitchforks and pigs-in-a-blanket. She’d always believed he’d move to New York once he’d left Bay city. She could see him in New York. She understood him in that context. At least she now knew why it had been so hard to find him all those months ago.

As she rounded a deep bend in the dusty road, Rachel received an answer to one of her questions. The farmhouse that sat in the clearing was charming in a rustic sort of way. Its two stories sported a bright coat of white paint and loads of vibrant flowers filled the yard. If she had passed this house without knowing Carl lived in it, she would have never known. Yet for some reason, it all made sense. Go figure.

She drove through the open gate of a white picket fence—white picket!?—pulled up the lane and parked behind a grimy Cherokee. She killed the engine but didn’t move to get out of the vehicle. Great time for cold feet. Nervously she flicked a strand of hair out of her face ten ran a hand over the soft material of her new dress. New clothes, new lingerie, new chance with Carl. It was now or never.

A calming breath and Rachel was out the door and headed for the house. It was even nicer up close.

"Can I help you?" A young, extremely well built young man appeared out of nowhere.

"I’m here to see Carl…Carl Hutchins. I am in the right place?"

"He’s out at the back of the property." He gestured over his shoulder. "Keep followin’ the road until you see his old Scout." With that he disappeared around the corner of the house.

"Thanks! Fine. Sure," she muttered. She just loved playing hide-and-seek. She really didn't need this torture. If she were smart she'd pack her bags, head for the highway and find a way to proper civiliziation. Sigh. As if she would ever do that. She'd spent the cash and she intended to reap the benefits. Whether Carl liked it or not. For what it was worth she was beyond caring about what his failure to contact. She was more than willing to let bygones be bygones.

Another long dusty road. How did he live like this? Rachel dutifully followed the young man's directions and presently happened upon a rusty old Scout. It had to be Carl. She hopped out of the SUV and made an attempt to straighten her helplessly wrinkled sundress. Before she could stop the thought, she wondered if he'd like what she'd chosen during her impromptu shopping spree.

In her strappy sandals she climbed a gently sloping footpath. In the distance she heard an occasional watery slap. So, there was a pond up ahead. The clothing she stumbled upon confirmed someone was in the water. Stooping, Rachel sifted through the garments...sturdy boots, socks, jeans (jeans!), a shirt and a pair of black briefs. She smiled. A big, wolfish smile. If the someone in the water wasn’t Carl, she'd eat her briefcase.

Just a few more steps and she was at the edge of the water. It wasn't really a pond, but more like a small lake. A picnic table and grill sat to the left and a deck with a raft to the right. Several rocks jutted out of the water, which provided ample opportunity for diving. She focused her attention on a 'plop' and saw a sleek gray head. Yep, she was right.

At ease in the water, he turned in her direction. He showed no surprise at seeing her, if indeed he was surprised at all. He'd always had some extra sense when it came to her, even if it had failed him last night.

He didn't say a word, only lifted himself slightly out of the water to sit on a submerged outcropping. Little droplets of water splashed from his hair onto his tan chest. Rachel’s eyes followed them with avid interest. His arms were more muscled and defined than when she'd last seen him sans clothing. Too bad the water hid the rest.

Carl studied her just as closely. If he didn't say something soon, she'd scream. "What's the matter Carl? Cat got your tongue?"

That got her a slight smile. "I'm waiting for you to join me."

NOT what she'd expected. Maybe what she wanted, but not what she thought he'd say. And she knew he thought she'd probably refuse. Rachel toed off her sandals and reached up to ease a strap from her shoulder. "Whatever you say."

"Rachel..."

First one strap, then the other. In for a penny, in for a pound. Even if she wanted to stay nice and dry on shore, she was now beyond turning back. Despite the heat, her skin goosepimpled at the rush of air as her dress fell to the ground. Another flick and her panties joined it. She had enough time to appreciate the slight shock on his face before she dove under the water.

She surfaced just a few feet away from him. She had to hand it to him--he looked so calm. As for herself, she was quivering on the inside. She'd taken the plunge, so to speak, what was she supposed to do next?

..to be continued…