Putting It to the Test Read online

  The air became humid in the small space. The light from the adjoining rooms seemed to fade. And when he softened his tone, his voice played like a song between them.

  “You went willingly into my arms and you know it as well as I do,” he said. “And please don’t tell me you regret what we shared because that was the best sex I can remember and I’d do it all over again if you’d only let me.”

  Pressing herself against the wall, she swept her tongue across her bottom lip, then slowly raised her eyes to his, and when their gazes met, he saw the depth of her surprise. She clearly hadn’t expected a word of this, and he had to take pause and wonder just how high a tower he’d managed to build around himself.

  Had she really seen none of this coming?

  Shaking his head, he asked, “Did you think you were just some notch on my bedpost?”

  She lightly shrugged. “I…I don’t…Maybe.”

  He backed up a step and brushed a hand over his face. “You underestimate yourself, Carly. You’re light-years from a notch on a bedpost.” Taking another step away, he added, “You’re the kind of woman guys fall for.”

  He could see he’d thrown her for a loop. Gone was the defiant stiff chin and pursed angry brow, and in their place was a woman who’d just been plunked upside the head by his admission. And he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked again, her voice soft and hesitant.

  “Honesty. I want to know what I can do to cure this tension between us. I want to know how we can find a truce and keep it.” Feeling a sudden need for air, he stepped into a living area that, while sparsely furnished, was thankfully devoid of all things pink. Opting for an upholstered blue-and-white-striped chair, he moved through the room and plopped down.

  “I wasn’t kidding about my job, Carly. Hall’s pissed—and he’s pissed at me.”

  “I’m sure he’s pissed at me, too,” she said. She hadn’t moved from the hallway and was only now taking gradual steps into the room. “I was the one who cheated on the survey.”

  “Yeah, well, he doesn’t know about that.”

  “You didn’t tell him?”

  The level of shock in her voice brought a sour taste to his mouth. She didn’t have to be so stunned that he hadn’t blown the whistle on her, though he shouldn’t have expected more. She’d had a bad impression of him from the start, and in her defense, he’d never made the slightest effort to correct it.

  “No, I didn’t tell him,” he said, trying to reassure her. “That’s your business, not mine, and it wouldn’t have mattered to Hall anyway. In his eyes, you get along with everyone and I don’t. If you have a problem, it’s only because you’re dealing with me.”

  “He said that?”

  “He might as well have.”

  She fell silent for a long time before she quietly admitted, “That’s not fair.”

  “He’s probably more spot-on than I’d care to confess.” After all, it was Hall who’d told him to give honesty a shot. And—lo and behold—it seemed to work. Matt was sitting here in Carly’s living room, and not only hadn’t she called the police, she wasn’t even yelling at him anymore. Cupping his face in his hands, he rubbed his eyes and considered his situation. At this point he had no problem laying his soul on the line if it would fix things here. The only question was, could Carly be honest with him?

  She spoke up then. “I’m sorry I blew up at the office and got you in trouble. Monday morning, I plan to straighten that out with Mr. Hall and—”

  He looked up from his hands. “You aren’t apologizing to Hall for any of this.”

  She slipped into the chair opposite his. “Storming into the conference room in a conniption fit is most definitely something I need to apologize for. And I don’t care what Mr. Hall thinks, you don’t deserve to take the blame for it all. If anything, he’s the one who should be apologizing for dreaming up this stupid survey in the first place.” That angry stiffness returned to her chin. “I shouldn’t have had to fix a survey to get a spot on that project. I should have been given it based on the work I’ve done for him all these years.”

  “Carly, he didn’t put you on the project because he already knows your capabilities. I’m the one being tested here, not you. It’s the reason I’m on the hook for how things have turned out. He already knows he can pair you with anyone and the job will run smoothly. I’m another story.”

  She pursed her brow. “What do you mean you’re being tested? Tested for what?”

  Did she not know about the new design team or the open management position? He thought everyone had heard that rumor.

  For a brief moment he considered holding back, not knowing how she’d react to finding out they were both in line for the same job. But then he remembered Hall’s comment about honesty, how so far it had been working in his favor.

  “Did you know there was a management job opening up?” he asked.

  The quick change in her expression said she did. “I heard a rumor,” she muttered. “I don’t know how much truth—”

  “It’s true. Hall confirmed it for me this afternoon.” The dark turn to her eyes left him fearing he’d just obliterated all the progress they’d made, but he had to come clean. “You and I are both candidates for the job.”

  Her eyes widened. “Me?”

  “I told you, Carly—you don’t have anything to prove when it comes to Hall. He’s already confident in your abilities, but he admitted he’s torn between the two of us. He feels I’m better with the clients and you’re better with the staff, and unless one of us proves the ability to do both, who knows which way he’ll go.”

  For the longest time she simply sat and stared, those violet-blue eyes reflecting his same feelings about the dilemma they faced.

  “So we’re competing for the same job, yet he expects us to get along and function as a team,” she finally said.

  He nodded.

  “And he assumes we can because the survey said we were perfect for each other.”

  “Yes.”

  She frowned. “Remind me again why you didn’t tell him I fixed the survey? It sounds to me like it would have resolved all of this and landed you that management spot.”

  He had to admit he’d asked himself that same question more than a dozen times on his way to her house, but no matter how he turned it over, the result stayed the same. “I’m not a perfect man, Carly, but I won’t stoop to making myself look good by making you look bad.”

  A pained look crossed her face before she pushed up from the chair and stormed out of the room.

  “Carly?” he asked as he heard her footsteps round the hall into the kitchen. Cupboard doors slammed, drawers rolled open and closed while those sharp steps echoed through the room. “We need to talk about this.” He began to rise from the chair, but before he could, she came back with two bottles of red wine and a pair of tumblers.

  “I don’t drink much,” she said. “This was left over from a party. It’s the only alcohol I have.” Handing him a corkscrew, she dropped one of the bottles in his lap. “This is probably a bad idea, but I could really go for a drink right now.”

  He stared at the bottle in his hand. “You’re right,” he said. “This is a bad idea.” Then he peeled back the lead cap and twisted the corkscrew into the top. “But it’s the best bad idea I’ve heard in a long time.”

  12

  “MR. HALL IS A big dumb jerk!”

  Matt glanced at the angry pout on Carly’s face and realized she was right: she didn’t drink much. He’d only now refilled her glass of wine—and not a large one at that—and already she was demonstrating the effects of the first.

  “You already said that three times,” he replied, fighting back a chuckle.

  Somehow the two of them had ended up stretched out on the fuzzy shag rug that covered the hard oak floor of her living room. At Matt’s side was a half-empty bottle of wine and a fireplace filled with a dozen lit candles. Short of the cat that had taken up residence
on his butt and a meager glass of wine that had gone straight to Carly’s head, the scene might have actually been romantic.

  Carly was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, a blue-and-white-striped seat cushion acting as her pillow. “I’ll say it three more times before the night is out.” She lifted her head to take a sip of her wine. “I’m really mad at him. He should not be putting us in this position.”

  She set the wine back on the coffee table at her head, plopped against the cushion and huffed.

  “We’ve been through this. We agreed we’d help each other out, do the best job we could and let Hall decide in the end who he wants to manage the new unit.”

  They’d come to the decision after feeling each other out and realizing neither of them was willing to step aside and let the other have the job. Apparently, Carly had her eyes zeroed in on that promotion as much as he did, and the only truce they could find was making an honest effort to help one another strengthen their weaknesses and let the best man—or woman—win.

  And, ironically, once they’d made that decision, their differences had melted away like ice cream on hot asphalt. It seemed once they’d been honest with each other about what they wanted, all the stress had eased between them and they were able to relax.

  “I still think he could have saved everyone a ton of trouble by just giving it to us straight from the start.”

  “Well, Hall’s never been one to take the standard route with anything.”

  She lifted her head and eyed him with all seriousness. “He doesn’t, does he?”

  “No, but we’ve talked enough about Hall today. We were playing Truth or Truth, and you never answered your question.”

  The game started out as a twist on the classic Truth or Dare, Matt deciding the option of having a dare was probably a bad idea, but both of them wanting to end the day having aired every grievance between them. Thus the game Carly coined Truth or Truth.

  “I forget my question,” she said.

  Propped on his elbows and lying on his stomach, he pointed his thumb toward his backside. “What’s up with your cat?”

  Carly sat up and gasped. “Mr. Doodles! Get off Matt!” She swatted at the cat, but the gray tabby didn’t budge. “Gawd, he’s such a bad cat. He doesn’t listen to anything I say.”

  “He’s not that bad. I only wondered if he had a fetish for men’s butts is all.”

  “No, he’s just not well trained. Honestly, I grew up in apartments, and this is the first time I’ve ever had an animal. I don’t know what I’m doing with him. And there’s no such thing as a cat trainer. Trust me—I looked.”

  “You’ve never lived in a house before?”

  She leaned against the cushion and stared proudly at the space. “This is my first and it’s all mine. I bought it myself, you know. I wanted to make sure my kids grew up in a real house with a real yard.”

  “And a badly trained cat.”

  “Exactly!” she laughed.

  He watched as she stared at the ceiling and envisioned her dream, her face filled with such hope and pride it felt contagious.

  “Your parents could never afford a home?” he asked, taking a casual sip of his wine.

  She snorted. “My dad could probably afford three homes. It’s just that all those mistresses get expensive.” She furrowed her brow. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he did own homes in a couple states. For as little as we see him, he’s probably one of those guys with a bunch of families none of us know about.”

  Matt gaped. “Are you serious?”

  She shrugged. “I really don’t know. I get so frustrated with my mother. Every time I try to pump her for information she gets upset and we end up fighting.” She turned and placed a hand over her mouth. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I love my mom. She’s the only thing steady in mine and Jodi’s lives and she works her fingers to the bone. I just don’t understand why she hasn’t dumped him for something better. I’d never let a man treat me like that.” Then her expression soured. “It hurts the whole family, not just her.”

  Matt hadn’t meant to open sore wounds, and judging by the bitter pain in her eyes, it seemed her father stung sharp and deep.

  Another thing the two of them had in common.

  He redirected the subject, preferring that gratified look he’d seen before. “Well, now you’ve got a home of your own.”

  “In all its pink splendor.” She turned her head and met his gaze with a smile. “You ever hate a color so bad you never want to see it on anything again?”

  “You aren’t fond of pink?”

  “Nobody can handle this much. You should have seen it before I ripped out the carpet.”

  He scanned the room. “I can imagine.”

  “It’s the only reason I got the place at the price I paid. Nobody could handle all the pink, not even the flippers. I bought it way under market, and now it’s just a matter of time and money before I turn it into the home I want.”

  Matt looked around and took it all in, his reaction a mix of pride and pity. On one hand, he admired her for being so resourceful in chasing after her dreams. On the other, this quirky oversize dollhouse was a pathetic start that would take a lot more than paint and elbow grease to bring it around. Through a sliding glass door he saw a backyard of little more than mown weeds. Though the wood floors weren’t pink, they were long overdue for a good sanding and polish. Kitchens and baths were expensive to rip out, and even once landscaped, this oversize lot would be big enough to require plenty of constant care.

  Rather than a savvy investment, the house looked like a little girl’s desperate attempt to create the home she’d been denied, and his heart went out to her. The need in her eyes made him want this for her as much as she did, and as a man who hadn’t grown up with a real home, either, he understood the desire.

  “Hey, wasn’t that more like three questions?” she asked.

  He smiled. “I guess it’s your turn.”

  She studied him for a while, the smile slowly fading from her lips and sobering her playful expression.

  “So…what happened with the Nationals?” she said. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  Though his failed career in baseball wasn’t his favorite topic, he shrugged and shook his head, well accustomed to dealing with questions. A guy didn’t leave town with a bright future ahead of him and return with nothing without people wanting to hear the story.

  He took a quick sip of his wine and smacked his lips. “I wasn’t good enough. It’s as simple as that. I had the national talent, but not the work ethic to make something of it. I’d been cocky and immature, assuming I was better than I was. And though a dozen coaches and trainers had tried to warn me, I never gave it my best before it was too late. They released me before I got it through my head that hard work was just as important as natural talent. And in a tough field like baseball, you needed both to be successful.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was somber and that annoyed him. He’d spent enough of his life feeling sorry for himself, wallowing in grief and anger over that devastating blow, and like an alcoholic being offered a drink, he didn’t like people pulling him back to that state again, even unintentionally.

  “Don’t be,” he said. “We don’t always get what we want out of life. It’s how we handle what’s left that matters.”

  It was the line Stu had given him and it had become the rule he lived by. It was only when he’d really listened to those words and accepted their meaning that he’d started to turn his life around. He’d gone back to school to study graphic arts and discovered in the process he had more talents than just baseball. Stu called it a great gift to be able to remake a life once failed, and Matt was determined not to let this one slip through his fingers.

  “And you took what was left and became a successful Web designer,” she said.

  “I’m trying.”

  Her voice softened and she rested a comforting hand on his arm. “There’s no trying about it. You really are very good, you know. I’m not
just saying that.” She pulled a reluctant smile to her lips. “I’d give anything for your eye for art. I’ve tried to mimic some of the things you’ve done before, but it never comes out right. You’ve got a gift that just can’t be taught.”

  There was something in the way she said it, not only sincerity but respect, that made the compliment mean more to him than he would have expected. He felt her words deep in his chest. In a place he reserved for very few. And it occurred to him at that moment how much her opinion mattered to him.

  Weeks ago—heck, even hours ago—he would have scoffed at the idea that Carly’s opinion mattered. Maybe it was that she’d never complimented him before. Maybe her persistent disdain for him had always kept him in armor. But here, with their shields down and their hearts slightly ajar, he realized how much her approval really meant to him.

  Staring in those bright blue eyes, the end result of two years of anger showed its face to him and he finally saw it for what it had been. He’d treated Carly badly out of jealousy. Not jealousy on the job but jealousy of the fact that this woman everyone loved wouldn’t turn her affections toward him. She was the ray of sunshine beaming on everyone she passed but clouding over in his presence, and he didn’t realize until now how much he’d desperately wanted that sunshine, too.

  In Matt’s life, very few people made their way into that place in his heart. It had been cemented over too many times by affections he’d been denied. His father had been the first to close over the hole instead of fill it, and despite his mother’s efforts and those of a dozen teachers and coaches, no one had been able to break the barrier Jeff Jacobs had created.

  Only Stu had found an opening, had crept into that space where Matt kept the few people he cared for, and through Stu Matt had learned to let more people in. There’d been college professors and some mentors along the way, the latest being Brayton Hall, who Matt sought approval from and drank in whatever respect he could earn. But he’d known all this and had accepted the risks of opening his heart.