“What’s the condition?” he asked with a wry grin.
Peaches folded her arms, pushing her boobs up in ways that looked all kinds of awesome. “If I can call you Wes.”
Carter stared at her. Well, hell. His name had never sounded so soft, so … nice. “I— That’s a … I’m not sure. I mean, only Jack calls me that,” he stammered, throwing his cigarette into the ashtray. “I’m not— I mean, Christ.” Both hands found his scalp. How could he explain his hatred of his Christian name? That was a long-ass, depressing story.
“Okay, I get it. Carter it’ll be,” she said, touching his right shoulder blade. “Actually, instead, maybe I’ll name you after a fruit. How about Kiwi?”
The burst of laughter that exploded from him felt new and fantastic. Peaches laughed along with him. Dammit, she was gorgeous when she laughed. Her whole face lit up and her eyes crinkled, almost disappearing. Carter was mesmerized.
“Okay, enough of this.” She chuckled. “Let’s get to work.”
The discussion points she produced elicited heated debates, which they both enjoyed more than they should have. They argued and undermined one another, but the atmosphere was playful and light and, Carter couldn’t deny, sexy as hell.
“Shit,” Peaches cursed, taking Carter by surprise. “It’s late.”
He glanced at the clock. They’d run over by twenty-five minutes. “Time flies when you’re having fun, right?” The wink he sent her way caused her cheeks to pinken. “You, um, you got a date or something?” Carter asked as she rushed, throwing her shit into her bag.
“Oh no!” She gave a vigorous shake of her head. “I don’t have a date. I—I’m single.” She snapped her mouth shut and briefly closed her eyes.
Carter could barely hide his elation. Or his relief. She belonged to no one. No man had claimed her, made her his. His mind boggled. Christ, were they all fucking insane?
“Hey, Miss Lane,” he called with a grin as she set off with her things across the room. “I enjoyed today.”
“Me too,” she answered, mirroring his smile. “Oh, and Carter …” She turned back to him while the guard opened the door. “The name’s Peaches.”
9
Carter was anxious. He was anxious and nervous and dammit, where the hell was Peaches?
He was sitting in a nicer room than normal, alongside Jack and his rat-faced attorney. Diane, his case manager, was due in fifteen minutes and Peaches still hadn’t arrived. She was definitely in; Jack had told him so when he’d asked indifferently of her whereabouts. He hadn’t been able to ignore the way Jack eyed him. That shit made him nervous.
The door opened and Carter’s leg ceased its bouncing when Peaches entered. She was stunning in a pale blue top and black pencil skirt. Her hair was up in a loose twist and Carter immediately wanted to unfasten it and grab a handful, just so he could smell it, to see if it still smelled of the sweet peaches he remembered.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she told Jack while glancing at Carter.
He caught the look and smiled. Jack cleared his throat at his side and Carter’s face dropped instantly. Shit. Jack was aware of there being “something” between the two of them, and had asked frequently about Peaches ever since his stupid ass had passed out. It was only a matter of time before Jack would figure it all out.
He’d have to be more careful. He knew he’d been a lot calmer around her. Where Peaches was concerned, his temper had been under control and, as positive a thing as that was, it could prove to be very dangerous. With that thought, he slouched in his seat, averting his eyes from her, and went to work picking at the cuticle on his right thumb.
As if on goddamn cue, Ward entered the room, followed by Diane. She was a striking woman in her mid-thirties, with large dark eyes and brown hair that rested just under her shoulder blades in deep waves.
Ward began by making the introductions to Peaches, who blushed wonderfully when Diane praised her on the work she’d done. Diane walked over to Carter’s table and, without a word, pulled out all the necessary papers. She took a seat opposite Carter and began writing at the top of the application form.
“How are you?” she asked him. “You look well.”
“I’m just dandy,” he answered in his usual blasé, cocky tone.
Diane ignored it. “The parole board is convening in six weeks. Your hearing will be then. But I have a few concerns regarding some instances that may have an impact on your application.”
Carter bristled.
“I have evidence here,” Diane stated while she held up another form, “that you’ve shown aggressive behavior toward other inmates, staff, including Miss Lane and Mr. Ward, and have threatened guards while in their charge.”
“That’s because one of them assaulted me,” Carter fumed. “Damn near broke my wrist!”