Their suite was on the third floor. Carolina had no idea how many others were enjoying the spa, but so far shed only seen staff-and Maguire. The suite took her breath the first time she saw it.
His-and-her bedrooms both had their own bathrooms. The central living area between held a fireplace, a medieval round table and a wall tapestry that concealed a minifridge with snacks and drinks. Her bed was on a pedestal, with velvet drapes and hand-embroidered pillows. Greta had told her the truth. She barely made it inside before folding up on the bed and sleeping hard and deep.
When she wakened, though, the sensation of luxurious pampering and contentment was gone. Her head was thudding, her heart pounding. The long, whisper-satin gown still felt embarrassingly sexy against her skin, the heap of Swiss feather bed no less fabulous, but she headed into the main room, knelt down on the stone hearth.
This whole week had been disturbing and tantalizing and scary and wonderful, and above all, distracting.
But she had a life in shambles back home. It hadnt disappeared. Maybe shed desperately needed a break. Maybe she could be excused for hiding out for a few days. But shed done that now, and the crushing weight of decisions and problems was still waiting for her.
She had to push the stop button. She couldnt keep falling for a man who wasnt for her, living a fantasy life that wasnt hersbehaving like a woman she couldnt be.
Maguire disconnected from all electronics, locked down his business and headed upstairs. The staff claimed Carolina would likely take a solid two-hour nap, but he hadnt checked on her in a while now. He didnt want to make further plans for the day until he evaluated what she felt up to.
As the elevator let him out on the third floor, he considered that he wouldnt mind a serious nap himself. His neck creaked, and a sharp headache threatened around his eyes. He was used to lack of sleep, but hed been pouring on work hours on top of time changes and travel.
Adding Carolina to his life had created all kinds of complications. Some, hed expected. Some were mightily confounding him.
The door to their suite was an oval-shaped piece of carved wood-very cool and castle-like-but it was darned hard to unlock the door without making a sound. Still, he tried, let himself in, and then immediately stopped dead.
Hey, he said, but he thought, Hell. Hell times ten.
Carolina wasnt sleeping the way she was supposed to be, but sitting on the hearth rug, her head on her knees, kind of rocking back and forth. Her toes peeked out of a gown that couldnt be legal in public. God knew every inch of her was covered-except for pale pink toenails. But the slinky-slidey material revealed every hint of curve. Her nipples. Her adorableness.
And hed have been happy to concentrate on that, but it was downright impossible to miss her disconsolate posture. She had that look in her eyes again. The lost-waif look. The why-would-you-kick-my-puppy look.
Hey, he said again, trying for his most blustery voice. Wary of making anything worse, he moved closer, crouched down next to her. This isnt how the storys supposed to go. You were supposed to love all this. Sleeping in the cool old castle. All the history crud. The spa thing.
I did. I do. But, Maguire, I just cant keep playing. I have to go home!
Here hed expected Armageddon from those anxiety-drenched eyes. Instead, this was nothing more than a little crisis. Of course youre going home, he said, and leaned forward, to poke a long fork into the flames, push at the logs, creating a fireworks of sparks shooting up the giant chimney-and a spray of light that glowed on her skin. Just not quite this minute. See, back home, you have all those people who want to bite off a piece of you. Thats what happens when you inherit serious money. It brings out the vultures in people, even normally good people. And you know the real problem with that?
Everything.
No. He hooked an arm around her shoulder-not too close-no fingers touching what they shouldnt. Just a hug-hook. Nothing more. The real problem is that you got lost in that picture. All youve been hearing is what everyone else wants, what everyone else expects. Weve got to switch that back, and make it about you. The moneys a chance for you to saywhat do you want from your life? What really matters to you? So we work on that stuff. We dont go back home until you know exactly what you want to do from here. You go back strong. You go back feeling good about yourself, your life, what you want. And until then, you get to hide out, and let Maguire-thats me-take care of all the crappy details.
Youre a goofy man, Maguire.
Ive been insulted worse. Trust me. He looked around, too damn aware of her warm skin, the scents surrounding her, that tousled brush of silvery-blond hair.
I dont want to bebeholden to you. You dont owe me anything, much less all the time youve been taking-
This isnt about owing. Its about understanding. I know exactly what that inheritance did to your life because I know exactly what it did to my own family. Its been sabotaging everything you could do or be. But I can stop that from happening to you. I can help you make it work.
No, you cant.
Actually, I can, Carolina. I can teach you to be tough. I can show you how to handle this, the way no one else can, because you know positively that I dont need or want anything from you.
She frowned. You always sound so logical when you start talking. Only, what Im saying is logical, too. No matter what I do, people are going to be unhappy with me.
And thats a big deal, huh?
Maybe it wouldnt be for you. And Im not trying to win a popularity contest like a thirteen-year-old kid, Maguire. Im just trying to live a decent life. Do the things that matter to me.
Somewhere around here, there had to be some liquid refreshment that didnt involve sour-tasting herbs or mystery gray stuff that was good for you. He got up, prowled around the various cupboards and shelves, found a carafe, sterling goblets, plain old bottled water. I want you to think for a minute, he said.
I am thinking. She also took the goblet of simple cool water and gulped it down.
Back when you became a special ed teacher, you were influenced by what you believed you could do. That affected where you could go to college, the goals you had then, the places you applied for work. Essentially you established boundaries that worked for your life then-but now, you can take all that fencing away. Imagine, if you could have gone to any university on the planet, would you still have chosen the school you went to?
She sipped more water. Thats impossible to know.
Nope. Thats the point. What was impossible before could be totally possible for you now. If you wanted-and still want-to do things for kids with special needs, you have a whole basketful of options to pick from these days. You can still teach, if thats what you want. But you could also start your own school for kids with special needs, if you wanted that. Or you could get a group of experts together, come up with entirely new program ideas for special-needs kids. Theres no limit to where you could take just this one part of your life.
She frowned. Youre messing with my head, Maguire.
And thats exactly what I want to do for a couple weeks. Mess with your head. Show you how to use that money instead of it using you. Help you get what you want.
Maguire? What if I want something that you dont agree with.
Thats easy. This isnt about me. I dont have to agree with anything. If you want it, then well find a way to help you go for it. He thought the whole talk was going pretty well. Very well, in fact, but there was something in her expression that changed. She faced him, her soft eyes glued on his, studying, examining. Thinking. Thinking too much. It was obvious she was the kind of woman who got in trouble if she spent too much time thinking. What? he said impatiently.
I could want to go after something, no holds barred, risk everything, that youd really have a problem with.
Like what?
Like what if I wanted you, Maguire? What if all I wanted was to fall in love with you?
Her voice was softer than melted butter. He almost had a heart attack, but thank God, the phone vibrated in his pocket. He grabbed for it with a palm that was wet with sudden sweat-shock sweat-and could barely manage a coherent conversation.
The call only lasted a minute. By that time, hed managed to shoot to the other side of the room, with a massive old medieval table between them, which had to weigh five hundred pounds. Not that he was afraid of her. The waif? How could he possibly be afraid of the waif? He just felt moresecurewith a little distance between them. At least until he recovered from the words shed blurted out. Especially that one word. The four-letter one.
We can talk seriously. And nonseriously. About a lot of things. That was a promise. But right now, there are some people coming up here.
Wait a minute. What people? Why?
Thank God they got here. Initially hed been wary of setting up the Shoe Project, wary that Carolina wasnt ready for any commotion yet. But Italian shoes had been high on her wish list, and rather than spend time actually shopping in Rome or Milan-not his favorite pastime, for sure-he figured itd be more time efficient to bring the products to her. It wasnt as if her shoe size had been hard to find out ahead of time.
He sprang up when he heard the first knock on the door, and then the parade began. Almost all the vendors were men, carrying boxes and carts, with labels like JP Tod, Miu Miu, Fendi, Versace, Casadei.
Carolina-the precariously fragile woman hed found curled in a hospital bed in a fetal position-started shrieking like a child on a playground.
The scene deteriorated from awful to worse. Maguire hiked to the bar, grabbed a malt liquor and hastily retreated to a corner, out of harms way. It only took minutes for their serene living space to turn into Armageddon. Boxes were opened, splayed. Carolina was fitted, argued over, and encouraged to walk up and down the room in various shoes.
He had no idea that shoes had their own language, but he kept hearing terms hed never heard before, like Dorsay pumps and kidskin with a Swarovski buckle and burgundy strapper. One Miu Miu was defined as a feather shoe, which is exactly what it looked like-a bunch of silly feathers-so Maguire was confounded how the pair could cost five thousand bucks. A lavender sandal from Versace almost made Carolina drool-she was groaning like a woman in the throes of orgasm-and then came something identified as a red patent-leather lace-up. One look at that pair and she started giggling. And dancing around the room with the swagger of a goofy drunk.