The Christmas Cookie Chronicles: Carrie by Lori Wilde Read Free Book Online Page A

fall in love, but it was far too late. She’d fallen for him in high school, and no matter what she told herself to the contrary she’d never really gotten over him.
    “Do you remember when we danced like this at the nightclub in Caesar’s Palace?” he whispered in her ear.
    Carrie remembered all too well. She lifted her head from his shoulder, stared into his eyes. “That was a very long time ago.”
    He cupped her chin in his hand, his thumb sliding over her jaw, his gaze hooked on her mouth. She could almost taste him. The way he used to taste, once upon a time. Did he still taste the same?
    “Carrie,” he said softly, her name rolling off his tongue like a prayer.
    As if he really, truly cared about her.
    She stopped moving in the middle of the dance floor and rooted her feet, causing him to have to stop, too. “This was a really bad idea.”
    “So is this,” he said. “But I’m doing it anyway.”
    Then there, underneath the mistletoe on Thanksgiving Eve, her former husband kissed her.

 
    C HAPTER F IVE

    M ark closed his mouth over Carrie’s delectable lips and the circuit board of his brain lit up. At last she was in his arms once more. Illogically, it felt as if he’d been holding his breath for eight long years, and finally he could breathe again.
    Dimly, he was aware of a smattering of applause, the sound of the jukebox changing, and then came John Mayer singing their song. “Your Body is a Wonderland.”
    Meddlesome, small-town folks. A guy had to love them. People you knew. People you could trust. People who had your back no matter what. The kind of people he had not found since he’d left Twilight in his rearview mirror. How much he had willingly given up for success.
    His people.
    Her sweet mouth turned salty, and Carrie gave a little shiver. Her shoulders trembled as if she was crying. Carrie? Crying? On another woman, maybe, but this was tough, sassy, tart-mouthed Carrie MacGregor. He’d never seen her cry. She was a rock.
    Slowly, he peeled his mouth from hers. “Carrie, are you crying?”
    She smacked a palm against his chest, pushed back. “Screw you.”
    Yeah, well, that thought had been primary in his mind since he’d looked over that balcony and seen her on the street. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
    “I’m not crying!” She swiped at her eyes. “Don’t for one minute think you have that kind of power over me, Mark Leland.” Her cheeks flushed.
    Around them the other couples had stopped dancing. They were drawing an audience.
    “Babe, I’m so sorry,” he said. It was inadequate. Too little, too late. He knew it.
    “If you’re really sorry, then get me the hell out of here.”
    “What do you mean?” Mark asked.
    “Do you want to be with me or not?”
    She didn’t have to ask twice. He took her hand and pulled her toward the exit, ignoring the hoots and catcalls from the bar patrons.
    But once he had her outside, he didn’t know what to do with her. He’d walked over here from the B&B.
    Carrie seemed to understand his dilemma. She pulled car keys from her pocket and tossed them to him. “You drive.”
    “Where should we go?”
    “Use your imagination.”
    Was this right? Did she want what he thought she wanted? Should he take her where they used to go? The fishing pier beside the old Twilight Bridge that spanned the Brazos River not far from the house where Carrie grew up.
    She climbed into the passenger side of a white VW bug. “You coming?”
    Oh yeah, baby. You betcha. His breath slipped out in hot, excited exhalations as he climbed into the front seat and fumbled with the side latch, sliding the seat back far enough to accommodate his long legs. He was so hot and bothered by the thought of being with Carrie again that he couldn’t think straight and for a moment got turned around. He took off in the wrong direction and had to make a U-turn.
    He reached across the seat, found her hand, and squeezed it. “Are you sure about