August 26, 1998, 3:00 P.M.
Carrie sat in her office, chewing on her bottom lip. She was having
some very definite second thoughts about going to Sami's wedding. She
just wished she could forget that her little sister had ever existed.
Her life would have been so much simpler. She would have married Austin
and they would have grown old together and she would have never have
fallen in love with Mike.
That unbelievable dream she'd had just wouldn't go away. She was sure
she could never look at her desk the same way again. No matter how much
she tried to put the forbidden thought out of her head, she couldn't
help looking at it and seeing the two of them on it together.
What kind of a woman am I? she asked herself as she buried her
head in her hands, and brushed the hair out of her face. This is the
first anniversary of my marriage and I'm going to throw it all away for
a man who. . . who makes me feel like I've never felt before in my
entire life.
She took a deep breath, willing herself to stop picturing it, stop
thinking about it, stop imagining what she would do if Mike actually had
done those things to her. But it was futile. She kept her eyes open
and she saw herself stretched out on her blotter, writhing against him, begging him to not stop; she
closed her eyes and her mind came up with even more erotic and explicit
images that she didn't have the mental strength to contemplate.
Carrie felt herself blush. She loved Mike, yes, but was she ready to
tell him? Oh, that was secondary to the more immediate problem she was
having. The real question should be could she control herself when he
walked through the door?
She was startled by the ringing of the telephone.
"Carrie Brady."
"Hi, Carrie, it's Mike."
He was speaking in a normal voice, but just the sound of it turned her
on instantly. Carrie crossed her legs underneath the desk as she
clamped down on her overactive imagination.
Good God, it just wasn't fair!
"Hi," she said and mentally cursed, noticing that her voice had dropped
an octave. She probably sounded like a phone-sex operator.
"How are you?"
If you only knew, Horton she thought to herself, wondering what
he would say if she answered that candidly. "I'm fine. What's on your
mind?"
"Well, you, actually."
"Oh, really?" Unquestionably unfair. If her knees turned to jelly from
just that. . .
"Yeah. I was wondering, since the wedding's going to be at the Kiriakis
mansion, and you happen to be living there, would you like me to pick
you up early so you can change into something more comfortable?"
Don't go there, Carrie. "I know that office clothing isn't
exactly best-suited to a wedding, especially in this weather."
"You're right," she agreed. "I'm probably going to have to find
something a little less stifling than this suit. It's gotten really hot
outside."
"You're lucky. I have to sweat it out in my tux."
Oh God, oh God, oh God, I don't want to think about the many ways I
could picture. . .
"Ohh, poor baby," Carrie said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "but
can we go the apartment instead? There's a dress I've got there that I
was thinking I'd wear."
She could hear the grin in his voice as he replied, "Sure. I'll see you
in fifteen minutes, okay?"
"Okay."
"Bye."
"Bye." Carrie put the receiver back on the cradle and rubbed her
forehead with her fingertips.
This was crazy.
She was crazy. For Mike Horton. If the funny little flip-flop her
stomach did whever she thought about him (which was what?, every two
seconds?) was any indication, then this was not the platonic kind of
love she'd read about in her high school English class.
She was in love with Mike Horton, yes, but lately her libido had been asleep, probably due to her inability to communicate well with her husband. Carrie needed a strong, established bond to feel sexually interested in anyone, and whatever interest she'd had in Austin just seemed to have disappeared. But Mike, now that was a different story.
If she didn't watch herself, Carrie thought she might end up throwing
herself at Mike the moment he walked through the door. . .
Mike took one last look in the hall mirror before he opened the door.
Not bad for a guy who had about five hours sleep in the past
forty-eight hours.
"Hold it, Mike," Gus said as she came running down the stairs. "You
almost forgot the most important thing!"
"What's that?" he asked, waiting patiently.
"We have to go into the kitchen."
"I'm not taking Grandma's donuts to the Kiriakis residence. They'd be
more likely to turn their noses up at them than eat them," Mike said
jokingly. Gus ignored him as she opened the refigerator and reached inside.
"Here." She whipped out a white rose in a box. "Maggie picked them up
for you and Mickey. Can't have the Hortons looking shabby, now can we?"
Mike smiled as he opened the box and took out the rose. "I feel like a
kid going to a prom, not an uncle going to see his nephew's mother get
married."
"You're hardly a kid, Mike." Gus declined to comment further.
Mike examined the flower. "It has a stick pin."
"So I see," Gus said.
"Do you know how many times I've mutilated myself trying to put these
things on?"
Gus rolled her eyes. "Would you like me to put it on for you?"
Mike thrust the rose into her hand. "Please!"
He marveled at the swift work she made of the task, and she didn't even
prick herself once. "Gus, I think you missed your true calling."
"I'm kind of partial to eradicating cancer, thank you very much," she
replied absently as she arranged the baby's breath and the leaves.
Mike submitted gracefully, but he wore a long-suffering smile just the
same. She patted him on both lapels and adjusted the bow tie. Gus
considered him for a moment, then said, "There, I pronounce you fit to
leave the house. Go forth and have fun!"
He bowed and made his way to the door.
"Oh, Mike?"
"Yes, Gus?"
Her smile was soft and heartfelt. "You look very handsome. Any woman
would be thrilled to have you as her escort."
"Any woman but you, right, Gus?"
She grinned. "Get outta here before I break your kneecaps."
He winked at her and shut the door behind him.
Mike, you don't know what that'll do to a girl, Gus thought to
herself. What's Carrie going to do once she she's you dressed like
that and you flash her that smile?
"Oh my God, you look. . ." Carrie was tongue-tied. She couldn't find
the right words to describe how good Mike looked. There were none to
describe it, and she probably couldn't have tried, considering her jaw
was somewhere near her ankles.
He was dressed in a black tuxedo, and a single, perfect white rose was
in his lapel. She felt her knees getting all weak and jello-like again,
and it wasn't even dinner yet!
"Hmmm," Mike said, trying to keep the mood light. "'Like a Greek god?'"
He struck a pose and she laughed. It was a little bit louder than
usual, but it broke the tension.
"I was about to say you look very, very handsome, Dr. Horton."
He grinned and hugged her. "Thanks, Carrie. Are you ready to go?"
She turned her body away from his so she could try to start breathing
again. "Yeah, I have some files I need to bring home, but I've got them
right here."
"Carrie. . ."
It was that tone he used when she was working too hard. She put on a
teasing smile and said, "Don't you 'Carrie' me, Mike! You work way too
hard yourself!"
"Yeah, well it goes with the territory." He took the files from her
arms and held the door open for her. "Besides, I think you're just
trying to see if you can keep up with me."
"It's a medically proven fact that women have more stamina than men,"
she replied pertly, sweeping though the door. "You should know that,
Dr. Horton."
Mike closed it behind them. He cocked an eyebrow. "Really? In all
things? Guess I need to brush up on my knowledge of the female body."
Carrie's face turned bright pink as she blushed. Oh, God, of all the
double entendres!
They were walking down the hall and failed to see the figure of Nancy
Wesley as she watched them go by. She smiled in a distinctly sharklike
manner, comtemplating what kind of office furniture she would order for
her husband if things kept up like this.
Nancy was a little bit annoyed that the Brady girl's wedding invitation
had been extended to only to her husband, but she spend the time in more
useful pursuits instead. . .
Mike opened the door for Carrie and deposited the files on her lap. He
walked around the back to the other side, fully intending to unlock it,
but Carrie had already beaten him to it. Mike remembered something
Mickey once said about judging a girl by whether or not she would unlock
the car door for him once she was inside, but he simply shook his head
and muttered, "Off limits, Horton."
Carrie watched furtively as he opened the door and smoothly slid into
the seat. She felt the blood rushing from her head into more southernly
parts as he inserted the key into the ignition and started the car. Her
eyes never left his right hand as he moved it to the stick. She found
herself swallowing with difficulty as he shifted into reverse and backed
out of the parking space.
Her eyes were fixated on his right hand as he decisively shifted from
reverse into first, then into second as they pulled out of the hospital parking
lot. He rested his palm on the butt of the gear shift, his long fingers
curving gently so that his grip was loose, but prepared. Carrie could see
that he was wearing a pair of cufflinks that she'd never seen before.
They were shaped like a pair of wings.
"Why so quiet, Carrie?" Mike asked softly as he shifted into third.
"I was just, um. . ." Great, I can't even answer a simple question
in this state! "I was admiring your cufflinks!"
Mike gave his right wrist a glance. "These? Oh, thanks! I've had them
for years. They were a gift from Gus."
"Really?" Carrie latched on to the topic as if it was her salvation.
"What was the occasion?"
"Well, it happened in Israel," Mike said, his voice tinged with a bit of
nostalgia. "The both of us were working in this hospital in Jerusalem.
We were in an elevator when the power went out during a bad
thunderstorm. Gus, as you know, is terrified of small spaces, and
almost freaked out on me. But somehow I managed to keep us both calm
until they got the power working again. She said I'd been as good as a
'guardian angel,' and she gave me the cufflinks to remind me of that
incident."
"Oh." Carrie digested this slowly. Clearly, her aunt and Mike had
quite a past together, especially if he knew about her claustrophobia.
Gus wasn't the kind to go about airing her weaknesses if she could help
it.
But her mind drifted again and she found herself concentrating on Mike's
hand as it rested on the stick shift. There was something vaguely
hypnotic and downright erotic about the way he executed each movement,
as if the Corvette was a woman and he was stroking her just the way she
liked to be handled. Carrie had never heard a car so well-run as this
one obviously was. It practically purred.
"You know something, Mike?"
"What's that?"
"I feel like I'm in a James Bond movie."
Mike started laughing. He just couldn't help himself. "And why is
that?"
"Here we are in your 1950-something red Corvette, you're wearing a
tuxedo, and you know how to drive like you're 007," she replied, giving
him a knowing smile.
They had come to a red light. Mike turned his head to look at her, all
sweet and innocent in her ice blue suit. He grinned and asked
audaciously, "Does this mean that you're a 'Horton girl'?"
Carrie rolled her eyes, pretending to be secretly amused but trying
valiantly not to launch herself on to him. She was saved by the light
as it turned green again.
Mike gave her another glance and wondered what she would say if she knew
why Gus Fredericks was really here.
All of a sudden, another car pulled out of the side street they were
coming up on and almost side-swiped Mike and Carrie. Mike, reacting out
of instinct, brought the car to a screeching halt and held out his arm
just in time to make sure most of the files sitting on Carrie's lap
would not go flying.
Carrie gulped as she clenched the files tighter. That was a close call!
She hardly realized that Mike had tried to help her keep a hold of them
until she felt something warm and heavy on her left leg. It was his
wrist. His hand was against the stack, keeping them stable, and his
thumb lay on the inside of her thigh. She gasped at the sensation, but
Mike mistook her quick intake of breath to be related to the reckless
driver.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his hand still on the pile of files on her
lap.
"Yeah, I'm fine." You have you hand between my legs, Mike Horton,
and I'm far from fine!
Mike saw where his hand was and quickly pulled it away. He put the car
into first and they started moving again.
"Sorry," he said after a few minutes.
"For what?" she asked, the insides of her thighs still tingling. He
has such warm hands. . .
Mike thought for a moment. There was no delicate way to verbalize what
he was apologizing for so he replied, "Nevermind."
Carrie looked at his profile, then at the mountain of paperwork that
covered her lap and the place where, for a brief moment, the hand that
had been making her all hot and bothered just by watching it adjust the
gears had been between her legs. She returned to watching his hand,
wondering what she would do if he did that again when she had nothing at
all on her lap.
They arrived at the apartment without mishap and found a parking space.
"I just want to grab a quick rinse," Carrie said as she kicked off her
shoes. "Do you mind waiting?"
"Not at all," Mike replied and sank down on to the couch in the living
room.
Everything had a fine sheen of dust on it. It wasn't surprising, since
the place hadn't been lived in for a few months. Mike leaned back,
resting his head on the sofa.
If God hadn't struck him dead already for what had happened in the car,
maybe now He would take the chance.
How could one explain to God that the urge he had to grasp the soft,
silkiness of Carrie's inner thigh and slide his hand under her skirt had
been so powerful that it had taken off of his willpower to not do it?
Heck, he should get brownie points for not even touching her at all
since that had happened!
Mike pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his
forefinger. If temptation had ever been incarnated in the flesh, it's name
would have been Carrie Brady. . . Reed.
He heard the sound of the shower running and he willed himself not to picture her naked, but the image was there in his mind. It had been there ever since he'd had to strip her down so she didn't catch pneumonia. He didn't need to think very hard to remember what she's felt like pressed up against him. It was criminal to have a body like that.
Mike closed his eyes and began reciting the bones of the body, and then the muscles. It was a soothing exercise that made it possible for him to lower his anxiety at times. It couldn't hurt to try right now.
He was all the way to the foot when Carrie came out of the bathroom, wearing a very old-looking bathrobe. She'd pinned up her hair to keep it from getting wet, but a few tendrils had become dampened.
"Hi, I'll just be a few more minutes," she said.
Mike noticed something about the bathrobe. "Hey, that's almost exactly like my bathrobe."
Carrie blushed. "Truth be told, when I was younger I had Jenn find out what kind of robe you had, and I bought the feminine version of it. I know, I know, just a little crush activity that all girls do, trying to match with someone they like."
Mike grinned. "It looks better on you. Mine is falling apart."
"Well, blue always was my color," she replied flippantly. "Now I'm going to need your help for just a minute."
Mike levered himself off of the couch. "Okay, with what?"
Carrie motioned him into the main bedroom and opened up her closet. All of her winter clothing was hanging up in there, as well as her spring stuff. Mike noticed this and thought that she must be under the impression that the living arrangements that Austin made with his mother won't be lasting too long.
She reached in and pulled out two dresses. One was a pretty lavendar sheath with a jewel neckline, the other a black velvet slip dress with golden straps.
"Which one?" she asked.
Mike hesitated. "I would say the black."
"Why?"
"Because I have this feeling that you'd look really good in it," he said honestly.
She giggled and kissed his cheek. "Okay, the black it is. Now out you go so I can get dressed!"
Mike allowed himself to be shooed out. It was another ten minutes before Carrie came out of the bedroom, wearing the dress. Her hair had been pulled back into two elegant jet barrettes, and her makeup was soft and subtle. She was stunning, just as he'd known she would be.
He let out a long, low whistle.
She grinned and blushed, ducking her head.
"Madam, I would honored to escort you to the wedding of Samantha Brady and Franco Kelly."
He held out his arm, and she took it.
Gus parked the Lexus and turned off the car. Alice was sitting next to Gus in the front seat while Laura had opted for the back. Both ladies were dressed very well, Laura in a gold dress, Alice in pale blue.
"Okay, ladies, here we are."
Gus helped Alice out of her side of the car and the three of them walked around to the back of the house. Once there, Alice and Laura were snapped up by Caroline Brady as Gus politely excused herself.
"Gus, dear," Alice. said, "where are young going?"
"I'll only be a moment, Mrs. H.," Gus confided, "I forgot something in the car."
"Okay dear, but come back soon so we can introduce you."
"I will, I promise," she replied and planted a kiss on Alice's cheek.
Gus walked quickly back to the Lexus and hopped in. She reached under the driver's side seat and pulled out her Glock 9mm semi-automatic. It was her baby, specially pared down ever-so slightly to her specifications. Could fit against her thigh and provided ease of movement with a minimum of discomfort. Gus quickly pulled up the right side of her dress and inserted the gun into its holster. One more check for the clip in her cleavage and the clip in her purse. She got out of the car, locked it, and turned around, intending to walk back towards the house.
Instead, she bumped into a solid wall of human male that smelled strangely familiar.
"Hello, Gus, nice to see you again."
Gus looked up and felt the blood drain out of her face.
"Trevor," she whispered.
The tension was tangible. After nine years, he was still gorgeous in that rough and jagged way. She felt old, familiar and not unpleasant feelings steaming up her insides.
"How are you?" he asked.
He was dressed in Armani, impeccable as always. His hair was salt and pepper in color now, but the intense blue of his eyes hadn't dimmed. His mouth still had that built in sneer that was even now incredibly sexy. Gus felt herself weakening.
"I'm fine. And you?"
"Just fine." He smiled. "It's really good to see you again."
"It's been a long time," she said, doing her best to regain her poise.
"Yes, it has been a long time."
She thought for a moment. "Why are you here?"
"Well, that's a long story. . ."
A childish voice broke the intimacy of their conversation. "Mommy! Mommy!"
"Claire?!" Gus whirled her head to see a golden-haired angel coming running towards her at full tilt. Gus caught her daughter with open arms, hugging her tight. "Oh, God, baby, I've missed you so much!"
"Mommy, I missed you, too," Claire said, burying her head against Gus's shoulder.
"You're such a big girl now, sweet pea," Gus said, "Let me look at you."
Claire clearly took after her mother in looks. She had the Fredericks chin, the cheekbones and the hair. Only her eyes were her fathers, deep intense blue, like an indigo sky. She was wellgrown for her age, with long limbs and graceful posture. Just like Carrie when she was little, Gus thought.
"I'll be ten years old in two months," Claire said. She hugged her mother even tighter and Gus looked at Trevor.
"You weren't supposed to be here for another two days."
Trevor grimaced slightly. "Well, we speeded up the trip because Juliana wanted to be there for the wedding."
"I see," Gus said.
"Mommy, you look very pretty," Claire injected, plucking at the chiffon of Gus's dress.
"So do you, sweet pea," Gus said, trying to avoid having Claire touch the fabric near the outside of her right thigh. "Blue is definitely a good color on you."
Claire grinned and put her hand in Trevor's. "Daddy picked it out for me. He said it matched my eyes."
"Well, actually, Juliana chose the dress. I just gave it my approval." Trevor smiled down at his little girl and kissed her forehead. He looked up and his smiled became warm and loving. "Ah, here she is."
As he said these words Gus turned partway and saw a long-legged, very slender woman with exquisite bone structure and glorious reddish gold hair walking towards them. She slid her arm around Trevor's waist and leaned her head on his shoulder. Trevor put his free hand around her.
"Gus, I would like you to meet my fiancee, Juliana Roberts. Juliana, this is Claire's mother, Augusta Fredericks."
Juliana detached herself from Trevor long enough to hold out an elegantly manicured hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Augusta."
So this was the woman who was trying to take over the raising of her little angel. Juliana was beautiful, immaculately dressed, had elegant manners and seemed genuinely sweet at first glance. Gus hated her immediately.
"Shake hands, Mommy," Claire prompted.
Gus, remembering her manners, extended her own hand just as gracefully. "Likewise," she answered.
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