by Scott, S. L.
“No,” I say, putting my hand out. “It’s not the chair.”
“I’ll get you whatever you need, Mr. Christiansen. Just tell me what you like.”
I don’t mean to stare at her blankly, but that difference is growing more apparent. “It’s not the chair. It’s me.”
A move to a new city, just like a chair, isn’t going to change things for the better. This relocation may give me a corner-office view, but I miss the one of Natalie—the skyline dotted with lights behind her when we picnicked in an empty apartment. Seeing her standing outside my hotel room in Catalina with that quirked grin, annoyed at herself for having to knock on my door because she was locked out.
Her lying in bed when I had to leave for the airport, too beautiful to walk away without another kiss. The sun shining in her eyes as she stared out to sea on the patio of the bungalow. But all those views pale compared to the one of her in my arms, thinking she was dreaming.
The first time our eyes met, I knew I was a goner. I knew I was hers. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t even exchanged names. My soul held hers, and that was it.
That.
Was.
It.
My mom’s words return—Destiny will always find a way through a misunderstanding.
I’m no good for anyone else. I walk past Emily and out the door toward the exit. “Mr. Christiansen?” she calls behind me.
I keep running until I’m at the elevators, then call Tatum. She answers just when I think it’s about to go to voicemail. “Took you long enough.”
“I need to see her. I need to talk to Natalie. Will you help me?”
Without hesitation, she replies, “Let me work my magic.”
Falling against the wall, I slump down, holding the phone to my ear. “Thank you, Tatum.”
“Hurt her again, though, Nick, and I’ll hurt you.”
Her threat doesn’t sound empty. I may not be afraid of what Tatum would do, but I won’t cause Natalie any more pain, so it’s easy to agree. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Stand by.” The line goes silent. I look at the screen to verify that she did, indeed, just hang up on me. Yep, she sure did.
And I’m left wondering what stand by means, not by definition, but how long do I wait?
I need to get out of here because I’m too anxious to wait around for Tatum to call me back while surrounded by an office of strangers with their eyes glued to the new guy. Acting like a crazy person in front of Emily won’t help those rumors. Natalie would have laughed. Emily looked ready to call security.
Taking the elevator to the lobby, I set my sights on the set of doors in front of me. I chuckle under my breath as every last thing seems to be a reminder of Natalie, especially revolving doors.
Do I push through the side door or attempt the revolving doors again?
I vote for certainty, not willing to take any more risks. Where did that leave me before now? Alone and across the country in cold weather. That’s where.
The wind whips up, chilling me to the bone. I pull the lapels of my jacket closed in the front just as my phone rings. Moving off to the side, using a small concrete wall that juts out to block the wind, I look at the screen when it rings again.
The photo Natalie took the morning after finding each other again stays steady on the screen. My heart squeezes in my chest at seeing her beautiful face, but seeing this photo only means one thing. “Hello?”
34
Natalie
“Hi,” I whisper into the phone, huddling it to my ear as if some stranger in the coffee shop will overhear.
“Hey.” That tinge of hope that I’ve been holding onto for all this time is heard in his voice as well.
I’m not sure what to say now that I’m talking to him again. “You sound well.”
“Well?” He pauses. “No, I’m not well.”
I fight through the lump forming in my throat, and whisper, “You’re not well?”
“No, I’m terrible, actually.” The sound of wind travels the line, trying its best to keep me from hearing his deep tone that used to reach my core. But I’m here, pressing my phone to my ear to listen to anything he has to tell me. He says, “How’s your dad? My dad said he’s on the mend, but I haven’t heard anything else.”
Tilting my head down, I see the foam on the coffee is melting, the leaf design fading away. But I don’t care about that. Nick asking about my dad means the world to me. “He’s doing a lot better. He’s learning to relax. It’s a struggle, but he’s getting quite good at it.”
The lightest of chuckles comes across, then he says, “That’s good to hear.”
“Yeah.” We both seem to be suffering from the same issue—a hesitancy to drop our walls—though I have to say he had a head start. I probably shouldn’t ask, unsure if I’m crossing some imaginary boundary I shouldn’t. “What’s wrong?” I do it anyway to satisfy my own curiosity.
“I . . . I came to realize today that I’m no good without you. Call me selfish, smug, or whatever else you want, but I’m in love with you, Natalie.”
My breath catches somewhere in my chest, a knot near my heart as I digest what he just said. That wasn’t what I expected. I expected a hard day at work, or his pipes are busted at the bungalow, or even that he never meant to hurt me. Those things crossed my mind before he just unleashed the love lines.
I won’t cheapen the words by second-guessing him. He literally has nothing to lose at this point. He said the right thing, though, to gain my attention. “Go on.”
“I miss you so much that it aches to have been away from you for so long.” His voice catches this time. “I love you so much. Will you see me? I’ll catch the red-eye and be there in the morning. I’ll explain everything.”
When I look up, the weather has gotten worse, and the wind causes a few people to move inside after their napkins are swept away from their tables. They’re easy to ignore when I see a charcoal suit on a man who I swear could have walked right off a runway. I smile to myself, enjoying the sight of Nick taking cover against the corner of the building.
Tatum sets her cup on the table, and asks, “How long are you going to leave him out there?”
I place my hand over the phone, and whisper, “A little longer.”
She laughs. “You’re naughty.”
Shrugging, I bring the phone back to my ear. “Save yourself the trip. What would you tell me if I was in front of you now, Nick?”
I watch him position himself to avoid the wind, giving me a good view of him. His hair is darker as if the sun refused to shine on him any longer. I can’t see his eyes well, but those lashes are visible as he squints into the distance in deep thought. His suit fits those broad shoulders as if it was tailored to him. He says, “I was brought in at the tail end of negotiations to meet with your mom and dad when Andrew had to cancel at the last minute. I was representing my family as much as the company, scoping them out as much as they were me.”
“St. James, Nick. How did you not put two and two together? We even ran into each other that morning at the building. The revolving door from hell. I won’t even go in one of those contraptions again because of getting stuck in it.” That’s actually one of my favorite memories, but I have so many if I allow myself to still enjoy them. I find myself smiling and glance around the coffee shop, wondering if I look like a fool. But I notice I’m not the only one staring out the window at him, and jealousy spikes when I see how pretty the competition is.
“I don’t have a good reason for that. They all sound like excuses, but I think I was ignoring the evidence in front of me on some level. I didn’t want to see what was so obvious.”
Rolling my eyes at these poor souls thinking they can get his attention through a window if they apply fresh lipstick and bat their eyelashes, I look back at him. He’s barely staying put with the wind gusting around him. Pulling my shoulders back, I stick out my chest and flip my hair. “This is part of the problem we had. Everything was so fast that important details slipped thr
ough the cracks. And the thing about secrets is they always come out.”
“They do. I just wished there were none between us.”
“When did you find out about my company being shortlisted for ending the funding?”
“When we went to my parents’ house for brunch. In the meeting with my dad and Andrew. But I swear I came to tell you. You took the call from your mom on the terrace. I told my family I needed to be the one to talk to you. That’s when you found out about your dad’s heart attack.”
“That morning is a blur to me now.” Trying to remember how it played out, I finally land on his mom’s expression when we came inside. “Your mom was mad at you like you were the one who made me cry.”
“Yes,” he says, running his hand through his hair. One of his tells I’ve become familiar with. We keep saying we don’t know each other, but that right there reminds me that I do. I do know him. And he also loves to say I do, as I just did twice. “She gave me the dirtiest look for hurting you.”
I smile. “She took my side without even knowing what made me cry.” I wish he could see how that makes me feel. Just when I start to admire him again, he turns in my direction. “Oh, shit.” I drop to the floor, hitting the table on my way down and rattling the mugs on their saucers.
“What is it?”
Spying on him through some guy’s denim-covered legs, I see him with his back to the coffee shop again. Phew. “Nothing. We were just saying how Cookie loves me more than you.” A smug grin rides high on my right cheek. I exhale and climb back up while Tatum laughs her ass off.
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I already did.” As much as I want to indulge in the sound of his laughter or how handsome he is, I still need answers. “So, let’s get to the details. Why did you sign a contract that effectively dissolved my company?”
“I sign as legal counsel representing our party, Christiansen Wealth Management. I had met with Manhattan Financial’s legal team, so I signed, which is standard. It was boilerplate stuff. My dad even mentioned that your father was fighting for one of the companies, and we were happy to let him have it. I didn’t know, at the time, that it was yours.”
Pinning him to the wall with a glare, I ask, “Does that mean you would have kept it to control me?”
“No. No, not at all. If it were up to me, I would have freed you from the burden of the loan and reworked your contract.”
Legal speak has to be missing love language. Like a sixth sense, it’s the sixth language to getting laid. Another is the phrase “Freed you from the burden.” Five of the hottest words ever heard.
Okay, so maybe I’m not thinking clearly. How can I when he looks so damn handsome in the middle of what looks like a tornado brewing? Add snow into the mix, and I say, “You should come inside.”
“Come?” he asks, and my tummy clenches, just hearing him say it.
“I mean, go inside.” Eyeing Tatum, she nods her approval. She picks up her cup and nods to the corner by the fire where she’s heading. “The wind sounds strong. You should find a coffee shop and wait it out.”
“I should. Not sure if it’s getting better or worse. It’s unpredictable. I see a coffee shop across the street.”
Bolting to my feet, I yell, “No!”
“Why not?”
“Surely, there’s a closer one than across the street. Look around, Nick.”
I sit down, trying to catch my breath, not caring that I’m getting a few dirty looks for startling some table neighbors. He says, “You’re right. There’s one closer. I just don’t care for their coffee.”
“Me either.” I push mine away as if it personally offended me. “We can get something else.”
“We?” The bell above the door chimes, and I look up.
Standing again, I lower the phone to my side. A smug smirk is set on his stupid sexy face. I shrug. “Figured some conversations should be had face-to-face.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He cuts through two tables but stops on the other side of mine. “What are you doing here?”
I’m not upset that his natural instinct had him ready to embrace me, to kiss with the passion we always shared. Okay, the last part is just my fantasy, but I remember those kisses well. Reaching into my pocket, I pull the note out, and reply, “Cookie brought me here.”
I know my company is safe and under a new deal with my parents, so I’m not stressed about that. But we’re standing here like two fools who don’t know what to do with themselves when not attached at the hip. I say, “Before this goes any further, I have to know the truth.”
“I promise to tell you anything you want to know.”
“Look me in the eyes, and tell me that your family wasn’t trying to take advantage of my dad and that none of you knew anything regarding my company until that morning of the brunch.”
We sit down, remaining across from each other. Holding his hand up like a Boy Scout, he says, “I swear to God, we wanted a clean and honest transaction. I wouldn’t be working there—hell, I wouldn’t be speaking to my family if they had planned something underhanded. I’ve seen enough movies to know it’s always the lawyer who’s taken down first.” I manage a halfhearted smile. It’s all I have to give right now. “None of us knew STJ was yours until you told me, then we figured the rest out when we met that morning.”
He doesn’t hold back the plea that fills each word. By how he’s still staring at me, unblinkingly, I believe him.
“I signed the paperwork. Guilty as charged. I can’t take it back, but I would in a heartbeat. I was distracted in New York when I signed them, trying to get out the door to meet you for dinner and again when I was supposed to deliver them to the offices.”
Surprised how he looped that around, I ask, “Are you blaming me?”
“No. Not at all, but you are so bad for my career.” A humorless laugh escapes him.
“Am I bad for you?”
“No. You’re so right for me. Fuck my career. I’ll find another like worshipping at the altar of Natalie.” He dares to breach the invisible boundary between us and takes my hand. “We’re better together.”
My soul knew the truth the moment I laid eyes on him, but I’m so glad to hear him verbalize it. I scoot my chair around the table and invade his personal space. “What are your theories on coincidences these days?” I blurt, resting my chin on my hand. “I think everything happens for a reason.”
Much to his delight, he replies, “Sounds like you might believe in destiny.”
“Destiny with a little helping hand.” I close the gap and take a deep breath. This doesn’t feel like I’m giving in. I’m receiving love, his to be precise, and I have so much to give in return to him. “I missed you.”
“I missed you so much. I felt lost without you.”
My heart feels free, knowing I haven’t lost him. “I also love you.” But there’s one more thing I have to do before I can open my arms for him. “I need to apologize, Nick. For my reaction at the hospital—”
“God, no, Natalie, you didn’t. You don’t—”
“No, I do. And my mom wants to as well. There’s no excuse, really, but we were so blinded by pain and fear, and well, as my mom said to me yesterday, we were just looking for someone to blame.”
“I can understand that. And I am sorry that this . . . miscommunication happened, but in some ways, it was a good thing. The time without you just felt so, so wrong. Moving here, going into my new office . . . I should have felt excited about the challenge ahead of me, but I just felt empty.” I love this man. He’s just mirrored my thoughts exactly. Empty.
But enough words for now. Feeling that the weight of the world is off my shoulders, I get up and do what I’ve been wanting to—sit on his lap and stake claim to those lips. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lean my forehead against his. I love the way his hand rubs my hip, just like old times. “Question. How long are we going to drag this out? Because I’m really ready to be kissed again.”
“B
y anyone or me?”
“You. Only ever you, Mr. Smug and Sexy.”
His grin grows, dimples showing. “I’m going to kiss you, Natalie St. James. Are you ready for it?”
“I was born ready for you, Nick Christiansen.” Before I have a chance to add some wisecrack, he cups my cheeks and kisses me with passion—his lips on mine and our tongues falling back into their rhythm again.
Ripping my lips away before we’re arrested for public obscenity, I catch my breath, and then with the next, I ask, “Want to come back to my room and start this relationship on the right foot?”
“Given a second chance—”
I hold my finger up. “Third, to be accurate.”
“Given a third chance at this relationship and you want to skip to the main event? No dinner?”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not hungry.” Tilting my head to the side, I add, “For food, that is.”
“No drinks?” Waggling his eyebrows, he asks, “Rum and Cokes?”
“I’m good, all caffeinated and ready to go.”
“You just want to skip to the main event?”
I shrug. “We never did adhere to other people’s dating timelines. Why start now?”
He kisses me again before setting me on my feet and taking my hand. We head to the door, but before we leave, he looks across the room, and says, “I owe you one, Tatum.”
She raises her mug. I give her a little wave, and mouth, “Thank you,” for everything she did to help me track Nick down. If I had followed my assumptions, I’d be sitting in LA alone, instead of back in his arms.
At the hotel, there’s no wasting time. We fumble into my room, our clothes coming off and landing on the floor like a breadcrumb trail leading to the bed. His lips embrace mine while his hands roam my body. Grunts and growls escape him as he kneels before me and kisses down the center of my body. Moans of pleasure wisp through my lips as I weave my fingers through his hair. He mentioned worshipping earlier, and I’m feeling like a goddess because of him.
But then I’m lifted and kissed on the mouth again as we fall onto the bed, our bodies tangling as we tousle in the covers. I roll onto my back and help pull the sheet from between us. As soon as my legs are freed, Nick lifts the covers and is quick to disappear under them, leaving me with the image of those dimples and mischievous eyes before he reminds me how magical his mouth is.