TYSON DROPPED HER OFF at her hotel, and she let herself into her room in a dreamy daze. She was stripping off her clothes too bad Tyson hadn't been able to stay for another soap-up session-when she saw the blinking light on her hotel telephone.

"Rose and Vanessa must be worried sick;' she said aloud. She should have called and left them another message today, but she'd been so swept up in Tyson that she hadn't thought of it until now. She was startled when the voice on the line didn't belong to either of her friends.

James had called. His words swam in her head and she sat down, hard, on the edge of the bed. "Carrie, it's James;' he said, as if she could have mistaken his cultured, precise tones for anyone else's. "I've called your cell phone several times, but you haven't picked up. 1 hope all is well:' She heard him pause, as if he'd realized he needed to say something more personal than that. "And that you're having a good time with your friends:'

His words didn't ring true, and now that she thought about it, he'd never really made a secret of the fact that he thought Vanessa was a slut and Rose needed to lose some weight. The jerk.

He cleared his throat, preparing to bring out the big guns. He didn't like to lose. Her refusal of his proposal must have burned a hole in his pride.

"I know you needed a few days to get used to the overwhelming idea of joining the prestigious Carrigan family. I'm confident that it will be everything you've ever dreamed of."

He was confident that marrying him would be everything she had ever dreamed of?

She could hardly believe he had said that. Or that he seemed to actually think he knew one whit about her dreams. Dating James for two years had been her first big mistake. Keeping his ring for the weekend instead of insisting he take it back to the jeweler for a refund had been her second, bigger blunder. She was happier wearing Tyson's old T-shirt with dirt under her fingernails.

James was in her past, whether he liked it or not. She didn't know what her future would hold, but Tyson was her present.

And it was time to grab for real happiness with both hands. She took a long shower and spent ages on her makeup and hair. She wanted to blow Tyson away tonight. He'd dropped her off at the hotel an hour ago and already she was missing him. Craving him.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Her heart went to her throat. It couldn't be James, could it? But? when she looked through the peephole, she saw a man holding a large box. And a gorgeous bouquet of over-sized mustard flowers.

She grabbed a wad of bills to tip the man and placed the stunning arrangement on the table by the window. She opened the card, smiling as she read, "'A beautiful wildflower for a beautiful wild woman:" Tyson thought she was a wild woman? No one had ever called her that or, so far as she knew, ever thought the word "wild" in reference to Carrie Anderson.

She turned and looked at herself in the mirror above the table, wondering if something tangible had changed about her. And then she remembered her striptease in his wine cave, and her cheeks flushed. Not out of embarrassment. Rather, remembered pleasure.

Turning back to the box, she gave in to the unbridled urge to rip it open. Beneath a thick layer of tissue lay the sexiest dress she'd ever set eyes on.

She picked up the green silk with trembling hands and slipped into the dress. Twirling in front of the floor-toceiling mirror on the back of the bathroom door, she'd never felt so pretty before. Or so daring. James had always told her that less skin was better, classier, so she'd never worn something strapless, or tight, and had certainly never had a dress slide open all the way to the top of her thigh.

Suddenly insecurity threatened to overtake her. But she had great shoulders, didn't she? Her thighs weren't bad either, and she couldn't deny that there was something naughty about the idea of flashing her gams at people when she walked by.

She needed a glass of wine to calm her nerves before Tyson came to pick her up. She wanted him to be proud of her tonight. But before she left for the hotel bar, she wanted to share her joy with her best friends. In lieu of hunting them out via their cell phones or by the pool, she made a quick call to Rose's room. "Rose, I hope you haven't been too worried about me. I've met the most wonderful man. His name is Tyson and he owns a vineyard and he's just gorgeous and incredible:' She sighed. "I know, I need to talk to James to tell him it's definitely over between us, but I just haven't had time. I'll probably be gone until Sunday when we check out and I feel really bad about leaving you and Vanessa, but he's amazing and I know you'd kill me if I didn't spend this last night with him. Although since I haven't heard from either of you, I'm going to assume that you're both having a great time too. Love you." She left a similar message for Vanessa, then grabbed her purse.

Last night had been Fairy Tale Evening, Volume One. Volume Two was about to begin.

SEVEN

CARRIE WAS WAITING FOR HIM in the bar, and when she stood up, he stopped breathing. He'd never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. He'd known the dress would look good on her, but the vision before him was so far beyond good ... from her gleaming blond hair that fell to her sun-kissed shoulders in soft waves, to her deep blue eyes and her fantastic figure, she was a goddess come to life. How am I going to let her go on Sunday night? pushed to the front of his brain, and he was too thrown off his game to force it away.

She worked the green silk between her thumb and forefinger, and he knew she was waiting for him to say something. "You're stunning;' was all he could manage.

"I never wear green;' she said, and he hated the nervous lilt to her voice.

"You should. Wear it, I mean:'

"James always told me that blue was my-" She caught herself and dropped the rest of her sentence, but Tyson was so mesmerized by the curve of her br**sts that he didn't process her words. "I'm going to be fighting men off with a stick."

Carrie's sweet smile hit him right in the gut. "Really? I'm used to wearing, well, more clothes than this, I guess. I wasn't sure I could carry it off."

"You can," he said as he brought her hand up to his lips. He pressed a kiss onto the back of her knuckles. "And you do. So well, in fact, that I'm not entirely certain we're going to make it to the dinner after all:' "I want you too;' she said, just loud enough that he could hear her but no one else in the elegant cocktail lounge could. "Maybe we can figure out a way to go to the dinner" -she paused, reaching up to adjust his tie, a movement that went straight to his cock-"and ... "

She didn't finish her sentence. She didn't need to. He could see the faint outline of her hard ni**les beneath the thin silk of her dress, and he had to close his hand into a tight fist at his side so that he wouldn't rip it down to her waist, right then and there in front of a room full of strangers. He needed to get them out of the hotel in the next thirty seconds or they'd be no-shows at the Winemakers Dinner.