She leaned back, tired and feeling more like she needed a nap. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get through the afternoon.
Her eyelids had actually started to drift closed when the car came to an abrupt stop. Jerking her eyes open, she realized they weren’t anywhere near her apartment.
“This is Rockefeller Center.”
He grinned. “Yeah. Thought we’d do something fun before I dropped you off. You did work hard this morning.”
“No, I need to work hard this afternoon.”
The driver opened the door and Drew stepped out, holding out his hand. “Plenty of time for that.”
“You go have fun. I’ll go home and work.”
“Carolina. Come on. An hour. Then I’ll take you back home.”
“Drew. Absolutely not. I have things to do.”
“But it’s Thanksgiving.”
“I don’t care if it’s the end of the world. I have a deadline.”
He shook his head. “You really need to set some parameters and take some downtime.”
“Good-bye, Drew.” She reached for the door handle.
He squatted down in front of the car door, giving her an incredible view of his amazing thighs encased in denim. Strong and muscled, just like the rest of him.
“Would it help if I told you that this detour is at your mom’s suggestion?”
She paused. “What?”
“Gray and I talked last night, and when he found out I hadn’t gone home for Thanksgiving, and that you were going to serve meals for the homeless with me, he said he was grateful you weren’t going to be alone for the holiday. I guess your mother was nearby, because she got on the phone with me after that.”
Carolina would believe that. “And she said what?”
“She asked me if I wouldn’t mind forcing you to go out and have some fun today, and I quote, ‘instead of letting her imprison herself in her apartment for the duration of the holiday.’”
That did sound like her mother. “She worries too much. I love my work.”
“I’m sure you do. But the thing is, I promised her I would. And you know how formidable your mom can be. You don’t really want me to tell her I let her down, do you?”
Carolina frowned. “That sounds an awful lot like blackmail, Drew.”
“It does, doesn’t it? So let’s go.” He took her hand and pulled her out of the car.
As they walked along, she looked up at him. “This is why you’re not with your friends watching football.”
“Huh?”
“Because of some sense of obligation you feel toward my brother and my mother.”
“Oh. No, that’s not it.”
“I can assure you, Drew, that you don’t have to feel obligated. I’d even lie.”
He stopped and turned to her. “You’d lie to your own mother?”
“To make this deadline? Yes. So we can go back to the car now, and your conscience would be clear. You can hang out with your friends, and I’ll go to work.”
She pivoted, but Drew grasped her arm. “Not so fast.”
She wanted to scream out her frustration. “What? Surely you haven’t suddenly dredged up some long-lost Boy Scout sense of honor, have you?”
“No. But I did promise your mother. And besides, I agree with her. Gray and your mom both told me you’ve been working nonstop on launching your line for the past two years, even before you quit working for whatever-his-name-is designer.”
“David Faber.”
“Yeah, him. So is that true?”
She stopped, enjoying the feel of warm sunshine on her face, despite the chilly day. “Mostly.”
“That probably explains why you’re so cranky.”
Her jaw dropped. “I’m cranky?”
“Sure you are. Because you’re working all the time and you don’t remember how to go out and have fun.”
She wanted to kick him right in the balls. “I know how to have fun. I have fun all the time.”
He led her up the stairs. “Yeah? What was the last fun thing you did?”
“I . . .” She stopped and thought. “I shopped for fabric.”
He shook his head. “That’s work-related. Something not related to your job. When was the last time you went to a club, or a movie, or to a friend’s party? Or went out on a date.”
She opened her mouth to give him an answer, then realized one didn’t immediately come to mind. Okay, so she had been focusing a lot on work. But that was by choice, and sacrifices had to be made when the prize was her own fashion line. “I can’t remember.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought. And that’s why you’re cranky. You probably haven’t gotten laid in at least a year.”
She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with him. Besides, it was more like a year and a half, but she was not admitting that, especially not to Drew, the hot stud who probably got laid four times a week. “That’s so not true.”
He gave her a wry grin that spoke volumes about how he didn’t believe her.
Damn him.
She thought they were going to stop at a bistro for some coffee and conversation, so when he took her to the ice rink, she stopped and tugged her hand from his.
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Why not? It’ll be fun.”