The Sometime Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

her duplicity. “Wilson was quite an affectionate man.”
    Mike choked on his pickle. “That so?”
    “Oh yes,” Carrie said, putting on her most confidential face. “It was somewhat embarrassing actually. PDA to the max! Sometimes, I practically had to beat him off with a stick!”
    “A stick?"   Mike gave up on his pickle and took a long drag of beer. “That doesn’t mean you’ll be hurting me, does it?”
    “Not in the least,” Carrie assured him, feeling a familiar ache wend its way all the way down to her bones. An ache that told her she was going to enjoy this little party a lot more than she’d originally suspected.
    “Ah darn,” Mike said, with a Cheshire grin. “But, no worries. We can work around that.”
    “You just remember your mission,” Carrie cautioned him sternly, again with the knife.
    “Anything you say, oh knife-wielding one.”
    Carrie laughed and looked down at her hand. “No cracking jokes at the shower. Got it? Especially none that would give the two of us away.”
    “Your wish is my command.”
    Carrie wondered about that. Wondered, especially, if she’d been just a tad bit rash in insisting this thing between her and Mike remain simply “friends.”
    “You’re awfully quiet,” Mike said, cocking one eyebrow. “Thinking up those three wishes?”
    But, honestly, Carrie only found herself thinking of one. About how nice it would have been if Wilson had been a bit more like Mike. More relaxed and easy to get along with.
    “It’s funny, really,” she admitted over the rim of her tickling glass, “but I was thinking about how different you are from Wilson.”
    Mike settled back in his chair. “And that -- at this precise moment in time -- would be a compliment?”
    Carrie smiled and set down her glass. “You’re a nice man, Mike Davis.”
    “Ah ah,” he said, shaking his head. “Please don’t tell me that!”
    “That you’re nice? Why ever on earth not?”
    Mike coughed and picked up his beer. “Let’s just say that the only woman who’s ever called me nice and is still talking to me is my second grade teacher, Mrs. Rich.”
    “Let me guess,” Carrie said, narrowing her eyes. “Alexia said you were too nice for her.”
    “Bingo,” Mike said, setting down his empty beer. “Ditto that, Carol. And Marianne, and Barbara...”
    “My, my,” Carrie said, pursing her lips. “You do have quite reputation, don’t you?”
    “As the perpetual bachelor, yes,” he said, with a frown.
    “But that’s a reputation most men would savor.”
    “Well, if you haven’t noticed, I’m not most men.”
    Oh, she’d noticed alright. Noticed in a heartbeat. “So what exactly is it that you’re after, nice-guy Mike Davis?” she asked with a teasing smile. “If it’s not your personal freedom, like most men.”
    “I’ve had my personal freedom,” he assured her. “So much of it, I’m practically drowning in it. But to answer your question --”
    “Honestly,” she said, laying her napkin on the table, “all kidding aside.”
    “Honestly? Don’t you think it’s a big risky to be asking honesty of a man you met less than a day ago?”
    “No more risky than taking him home to meet my grandmother.”
    Mike gave her a broad sweeping smile that settled into an affectionate grin. “Ah Carrie, you’re really very sweet.”
    “Now, don’t go calling me sweet --”
    Mike chortled. “Let me guess? Something like my Mr. Nice Guy?”
    Carrie felt the heat envelope her at the thought of being read so easily. But he could read her easily, this man she scarcely knew. Or perhaps it was simply because the two of them were in the same boat that he happened to know exactly what she was feeling, precisely when she was feeling it.
      “Okay,” Mike continued, “to answer your question -- honestly. What I’m after is probably not so different from what you are. A stable relationship, a home. Kids maybe.”
    “A white picket fence?” she asked, feeling the renewed heat in