CHAPTER ELEVEN
LIVING ROOM
VICKI’S CONDO
CAMBRIDGE
THAT EVENING
VICKI STRUGGLED. She really didn’t want to include Carson in her next plan, but she had promised, and she wasn’t one to break a promise, so she called him. “I’m going to invite the group to my place tomorrow evening at seven. Would that work for you?”
“It might be better for the two of us to talk before you meet with them,” he said.
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
She gave in reluctantly. “Okay. Then could you drop by this evening around eight?”
“Just give me the address.”
His abrupt answer made it clear he wasn’t any more enthusiastic about seeing her than she was about seeing him. He does have a certain charisma, she thought after she hung up. I’ll bet that turns most women on. Not me. No way. Too bad he won’t stick his neck out. What is it about him that makes me think of Garon? She went over and picked up the photo on the bookshelf. The tent in the background reminded her of the first time they had slept in it together. She ran her fingers over the frame and across the glass. Then she put the photo back and looked at the gold bangle on her wrist. She wasn’t ready to remove it yet. And she would keep wearing the green dress Garon liked so much. The color reminded her of the rainforest and how sad he was when he told her that there already was a gas pipeline cutting 660 kilometers through the Amazon to Manaus.
Carson put his cell down, turned his laptop off and put a leash on Forsaken. He could catch a bite to eat before he set off for her place. Her grit was certainly admirable, and she was indeed stunning, especially in the dress that matched her wide-set green eyes above high cheekbones. Unfortunately, she would strike some people as radical. He wasn’t about to let her get under his skin.