11. Eleven

Eleven

Carson

My eyes slam shut, willing myself to sleep, but my eyelids flutter open again. Damn it! With a sigh, I throw the covers back and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My head is pounding along with my heart. A conflicting mix of anger and…something else. It's a confusing warmth that spreads through me at the memory of Anna, a harsh contrast to the icy knot of betrayal that still lingers.

Anna's infiltrated my life again, her laughter echoing in every room, a constant reminder of the past. Earlier, I walked in to find her in a frilly cami and short set, a sight that shouldn't have ignited a flame of desire, but it did. I felt a primal urge to pull her close against me.

She barely looked older than Connor, with her face devoid of makeup and her chestnut hair falling in a messy tangle around her face. An image that shouldn't have stirred anything but a flicker of appreciation that she was comforting our child, yet my traitorous body had other ideas. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and carry her to my bed.

God, I hate that I still desire her. How can I want a woman I can't trust?

But it's more than her appearance breaching my carefully erected defenses. It's the gentle way she soothed away Connor's fear. When I walked back in and overheard her reassuring our son that she and I both loved him, I felt the hard knot of betrayal in my chest loosen. She disarmed my own mother faster than I would have thought possible. Hell, she had Mom eating out of her hand by naming Connor after my father. That thoughtful gesture was a reminder of the woman I thought I knew. The woman who used to understand me. Damn her! How can she be all these wonderful things yet still be a woman who would cheat on her husband?

Grimacing, I rub the heel of my palm against my gritty eyes. The image of her lush body refuses to fade. I stretch my neck, trying to loosen the tension that's bunched my muscles into a knot. The bathroom offers a temporary escape. As I swallow the ibuprofen with a grimace, the chalky bitterness mimics the feeling in my gut. A bitter pill to swallow. That's how I feel. Who is the real Anna? The sweet girl I met on the cruise? The cheating wife or the loving mother who was comforting my son down the hall?

Shame burns in my throat, a bitter aftertaste of the confusing emotions swirling within me. How can I want someone I can't respect? Yet, I do. Sinking back onto the bed, I lean my elbows on my knees, the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

My son is the most important thing. I offered to let Anna stay because I thought it was best for him. Nothing changed. He loves his mother, and I can tell he needs her around. So, I can't ask her to leave just because I'm having difficulty resisting her charms.

No, instead, I need to guard my heart. Her warmth threatens to melt my icy defenses. She already hurt me once. She could do it again, leaving me with scars deeper than the ones I already carry.

My fist tightens around the bedsheet as I clench my jaw. This vulnerability, this confusing longing, is a weakness I can't afford.

My lips twist into a snarl. Where's the steely resolve I used to possess? Where's the man who navigated corporate battles with a cool head and an iron fist? Here I am, a CEO brought to his knees by... what? A memory? A ghost of the past?

"I must be getting soft," I mutter to myself, "What happened to my reputation for being stern and unyielding," my voice dripping with sarcasm. I can't let this mere slip of a woman get under my skin.

With that thought, I slide back on the bed and throw my arm over my eyes. The darkness offers only a temporary escape from the emotions raging within me.

My son's laughter wakes me the next morning. I blink as my eyes are gritty from lack of sleep. I resolutely stand and walk directly into the shower. I'm hoping the hot water will shake the fog from my brain.

Fifteen minutes later, I walk out of my bedroom, fully dressed and ready to face the day. The smell of sausage fills the air as I follow my nose to the kitchen. I walk directly to the coffee pot and fill my cup. I take a grateful sip before I turn to face my son's boundless energy and Anna's brief smile.

I hold up my hand and say, "We're meeting at your Uncle Chase's house tonight around six. I thought maybe you and I could shoot some hoops after breakfast."

"Cool," Connor offers his typical preteen response, but I can tell he's eager to go outside.

Anna deftly places a platter of scrambled eggs with cheese on the table. She returns with another plate filled with hashbrowns and the perfectly browned sausage I could smell the minute I walked out of my room on the table. My stomach growls in anticipation.

I quickly dish up a portion for me, and Anna does the same. We've both learned to take what we want before my ever-starving son beats us to it.

"Thank you, Anna, this tastes good," I say politely. Connor glances over at his mom and says, "Yeah, Mom. Thanks."

"You're welcome," she hides a grin and gives me a wink. "Both of you."

Once we're done eating, Anna shoos us out the door with, "I'll take care of the dishes. You guys go play ball. I need some time this afternoon to get online and submit Connor's transfer to his new school."

"Let me know if you need assistance," I remind her, but she's already shaking her head. "No, but thanks. I've already been through this once."

Later, as Connor and I take the elevator to the apartment, we're both slick with sweat, our shirts clinging uncomfortably to our backs. A Florida afternoon spent playing basketball had left us thoroughly drained.

I smile over at my son. "Man, do we need a shower."

He lifts his arm for a sniff, then holds his nose in disgust. I laugh as I explain, "Yeah, we're a little ripe." His face falls into a frown, so I add solemnly, "That means we stink."

"Oh," he says with an agreeing nod.

We walk in to find Anna bent over in the pantry, head down, rummaging through the shelves. She straightens up quickly and turns around. Her cheeks are flushed from the exertion, "Oh, you're back. I hope you don't mind. I was just taking a look at your pantry, and it seemed a little cluttered. So, I took the liberty of reorganizing things a bit." She glances around defensively, then back at me, a sheepish grin on her face.

"Have at it. The kitchen is yours," I say with a sweep of my hand. She blinks in surprise. "Thanks, I appreciate that," I hear the sincerity in her voice.

As she walks over to hug Connor, she suddenly stops with a wrinkle of her nose. Connor looks up at her and states, "We're ripe." Then he gives her a wave and yells over his shoulder on the way into the bathroom, "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Good," Anna calls after him in a teasing tone.

I involuntarily smile. Then, as soon as I realize it, I frown. She looks at me as if I've lost my mind. "You okay?" she asks warily.

"Yeah, our son just wore me out. He's so full of energy, and I'm suddenly feeling my age." I say with a sigh. Anna smiles, "Been there, done that." She looks up at me with an apologetic smirk, "Hate to tell you, but it only gets worse."

Then she cocks her head and says knowingly, "It's worth it, though, isn't it?" She looks at me with a thoughtful gaze, "I shouldn't be surprised that you're both bonding so quickly. But I am."

"Bonding. Yeah, if that's what spending time with Connor does, then yes. It's totally worth it."

She gives me a sweet smile and looks like she wants to say more. I notice she has a smudge of flour adorably across her cheek, and I feel the urge to brush it from her. Instead, I abruptly turn on my heel, kicking myself for almost falling under her spell again. Then I stride to my bedroom and into a shower. A cold shower.

It's five thirty and Connor and I are waiting in the living room for Anna. We both hear a door open, and she steps into the living room, a vision in white. The light sundress whispers against her skin as she walks over to us. Its intricate purple flowers around the hem swirl around her legs. The delicate scent of lavender, perhaps from her shampoo, wafts past me.

"Mom, you look pretty," Connor says, a wide smile breaking across his face.

A light blush blooms on Anna's cheeks. "Thank you, honey. I made a little effort," she says, her gaze flickering nervously as she licks her lips.

She's pulled back her chestnut hair on both sides with combs, the style highlighting the light smattering of purple eyeshadow that deepens her clear gray eyes. With shiny lip gloss highlighting her full lips… Kissable lips? What the hell? Seriously, Carson?

I sigh, the sound escaping my lips before I can stop it. As I follow them out the door, I force myself to relax my shoulders, the tension momentarily forgotten under the weight of my traitorous thoughts.

I'm moodily silent on the way to my brother's house. "Dad!" Connor says loudly, as if it isn't the first time he's tried to get my attention. My eyes dart to the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of his expectant face.

"Sorry, Buddy," I mutter. "I was miles away. I missed what you said."

"Uncle Chase is your younger brother, right?"

"Right," I confirm, forcing my attention back to the road. "There's two years between each of us. Chase is my youngest brother by four years, and Carter is in the middle. He's two years younger than me."

As Connor rattles off their names to himself, I reassure him, "Hey, don't worry about it. They'll all introduce themselves when we get there."

Anna and Connor both nod as I pull up to a large home in the San Marco area. It's an older historic district, and both my brothers have purchased homes in this area. I get out and open the door for Anna, a gentlemanly gesture despite my preoccupation. Connor is already bouncing on his feet. His hair is combed, and he's wearing cargo shorts like me. He is wearing a red T-shirt, and I'm wearing a light blue golf shirt. My heart swells with pride as he steps up beside me.

Before I can ring the doorbell, the front door swings open wide, and Chase and Carter stand crowded in the doorway. Val and Kat are behind them, peeking over their broad shoulders to get their first glimpse of their nephew.