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“Yes, Scarlett?”
“I don’t feel well. Can I have some water?” As a result of the inflammation, her voice held a smoky, seductive note.
Resisting its siren song, knowing it was the illness that made her sound so sexy, Carter rose to his feet to bring her a glass of water from the bathroom. He supported her as she drank from the cup, and when he set it aside, his face was inches from her own. He stared into her fascinating purple eyes and grew hard with desire. He hadn’t held a woman for over a year, and none of the women in recent years had ever been this tempting. “Scarlett,” he said, clearing his throat.
She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his, moaning low in her throat. “Carter,” she whispered against his lips.
He pulled away from her as she fell back to sleep. This wasn’t real, it was just the fever.
None of this was real.
It couldn’t be.
This was a business arrangement, nothing more.
7
Scarlett
For three days, Scarlett stayed in her room, recovering from her illness and dealing with the humiliation of kissing Carter. She still did not understand why she’d done such an impulsive, stupid thing, and was perfectly willing to chalk it up to her weakened state.
Carter had made a point of avoiding her for the past three days, and Ann had been her only companion, bringing her meals and taking care of her. She protested when she came in to find Scarlett dressed and walking to the door. “I’m much better now,” Scarlett said in a still-scratchy voice. In truth, her ankle hurt more than her throat, and though she felt slightly light-headed, she needed to escape the room for a while.
Ann hovered behind her as Scarlett limped down the stairs and into the breakfast room. She left to bring in the food, and Scarlett was sitting in silence when Darren joined her a few minutes later. “Morning,” she said with a ghostly smile.
“You’re up,” he said with some surprise. “Are you sure you feel like—”
Scarlett waved her hand, “Yes, I’m much better, and so is my ankle. I’ll be taking this thing off in the next couple of days
.”
“That’s good to hear,” Darren said, looking pensive. “Uh, Carter hasn’t been in a good mood the last three days,” he said abruptly.
“Really?” Scarlett inquired in a cool tone as Ann placed a steaming bowl of oatmeal before her. “Maybe he was deathly concerned over my illness. He wouldn’t want to lose such a large investment,” she mocked.
“I was just warning you,” Darren said and turned his attention to the food. They were eating in silence when Carter came striding in.
Scarlett didn’t look up from her oatmeal, but noticed the room temperature seemed to drop. She forced the ball of paste down her throat and sipped at her juice before finally lifting her head. “Good morning,” she said stiffly.
Carter ignored her greeting, and Darren’s as well, as he took a seat at the head of the table. Ann bustled in with a tray for him, and they maintained an uneasy silence. Darren finished his meal quickly and left them with a nod. The room grew even colder.
“Feeling better?” Carter sounded disinterested in her reply, making it plain he only inquired because it was expected.
“Yes, thank you.” She strove to match his distant tone.
“We need to get something straight.”
Scarlett lowered her spoon and looked at him. “What’s that?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“You can’t soften me up.” He glared at her.
“Excuse me?” Scarlett inquired, but she knew he was referring to the kiss.
“You heard me,” he bit out. “I don’t know what kind of scheme you hatched with your father, but I’m not relenting, and I’m not relinquishing my claim to the house.”
“I never thought you would be so kind,” Scarlett said blandly.
Carter snorted. “Of course not. You just decided to kiss me for other reasons,” he mocked. “I suppose you fancy yourself as Beauty?”
