The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 2

by Nora Roberts

  “Want something cold?”

  “Mmm, I’ll just have a sip of yours, okay?” She picked up the large insulated glass on the table and sipped slowly. “Iced coffee. Perfect.” She detested iced coffee and had never understood why people chilled a perfectly nice hot drink.

  She ran her tongue over her top lip and sat companionably beside him. Not too close. A woman didn’t want to be obvious. She glanced at the monitor and was so surprised by the complex and detailed floor plan that she nearly forgot the point of the visit.

  “Why, isn’t that fantastic? How in the world do you do all that with a computer? I thought architects used pencils and slide rules and calculators.”

  “Not as much as we used to. CAD makes our lives easier. Computer-assisted drawing,” he explained. “You can take out walls, change angles and pitch, widen doorways, lengthen rooms, then change your mind and put it all back the way it was. And you don’t wear out erasers.”

  “It’s just amazing. Is this going to be someone’s house?”

  “Eventually. A vacation home on the west coast of Mexico.”

  “A villa.” Images of hot music, exotic flowers, and white-suited servants popped into her mind. “Bri’s been to Mexico. I’ve never been anywhere.” She slanted him a look under her lashes. “You’ve been all over the world, haven’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t say all over, but here and there.” A little alarm bell rang in his brain, but he ignored it as foolish and egocentric. “Wonderful cliffs on the west coast, great vistas. This place will look out over the Pacific.”

  “I’ve never seen the Pacific Ocean.”

  “It can be wild down this way. This area here”—he tapped the monitor—“it’ll be the solarium. Arched glass, sides and roof—motorized roof. They’ll be able to open it for parties or whatever when the weather’s right. The pool goes there. We’re keeping it free-form and building up the west side with native rock and flora. Small waterfall trickling down here. It’ll look like a lagoon.”

  “A swimming pool, right inside the house.” She gave a long, wistful sigh. “Isn’t that something. They must be millionaires.”

  “And then some.”

  She filled her eyes with dreamy admiration and stared deeply into his. “You must be the very best, then. So important. So successful. Designing Mexican villas for millionaires.” She laid her hand on his thigh. “I can’t even imagine what it would be like, being able to build such beautiful things.”

  Uh-oh. The second alarm bell was louder and impossible to ignore. He considered himself a fairly intelligent man. An intelligent man knew when a woman was hitting on him. “A lot of people work on a project like this. Engineers, landscapers, contractors.”

  Wasn’t he sweet? she thought, and slid a little closer. “But without you, they wouldn’t have anything to work on. You’re the one who makes it happen, Nathan.”

  Retreat was often the intelligent man’s choice, Nathan decided. He shifted, managed to put the best part of an inch between them. “Not if I don’t get these plans done.” He gave her a quick smile that he hoped wasn’t as nervous as it felt. “And I’m running a bit behind on them, so—”

  “They look wonderful.” Her hand trailed up a little higher on his thigh. Intelligent or not, he was also human. His body reacted as nature dictated.

  “Listen, Lexy—”

  “I’m just so impressed.” She leaned in, inviting. “I’d just love to see more.” Her breath fluttered out onto his lips. “Lots more.” Deciding he was either too much of a gentleman—or too blockheaded—to make the next move, she pressed her mouth to his and wound her arms around his neck.

  It took him a minute. She was warm and tasty, and most of the blood had drained out of his head, making it difficult to think rationally. But he managed to take hold of her wrists, unwind her, and ease away.

  “You know ...” He found it necessary to clear his throat. “You know, Lexy, you’re a very appealing woman. I’m flattered.”

  “Good.” Her pulse picked up a little. The image of Giff’s face, enraged with jealousy, slipped into her mind and the pulse picked up a bit more. “Then why don’t we go inside for a little while?”

  “There’s this other thing.” He drew her arms down, kept his hands firmly over hers. “I really like my face the way it is. I’ve gotten used to it. Hardly ever cut myself shaving anymore.”

  “I like it too. It’s a wonderful face.”

  “I appreciate that. And I don’t want Giff to feel obliged to try to remodel it for me.”

  “Oh, what do I care about Giff?” She gave a careless toss of her head. “He doesn’t own me.”

  The edge that came into her voice, and the sulky heat in her eyes amused him, and told him that a lovers’ spat was certainly at the root of this current attempt at seduction. “Have a fight, did you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about Giff. Why don’t you kiss me again, Nathan? You know you want to.”

  Part of him did, a very primal part that was just a little too close to the surface right then. “Okay, we won’t talk about Giff. We’ll talk about Jo.”

  “She doesn’t own me either.”

  “No. I’m . . .” He wasn’t quite sure how to put it. “Interested in her,” he decided.

  “I think you’re interested in me.” To prove it, she freed a hand and made a beeline for his crotch.

  Managing not to yelp, he caught her hand firmly. “Cut that out.” His voice took on a lecturing tone that would have made any mother proud. “You’re worth more than this, Lexy. A hell of a lot more.”

  “Why would you want Jo more than me? She’s cold and bossy and—”

  “Stop it.” He gave her captured hands one quick, hard squeeze. “I don’t want to hear you talk about her that way. I care about her. And so do you.”

  “You don’t know what I care about. Nobody does.”

  Because her voice had cracked at the end, he felt suddenly and pitifully sorry for her. Gently he lifted her hands, and when he kissed them had her blinking in surprise. “Maybe that’s because you haven’t really made up your mind yourself yet.” Hoping it was safe, he released one of her hands to brush the hair back from her face. “I like you, Lexy. I really do. That’s another reason I’m not taking you up on your very tempting offer.”

  Shame washed over her, rushing hot to her cheeks. “I made a fool of myself.”

  “No. I damn near did, though.” Steadier at last, he eased back, reached for his now tepid coffee to cool his throat. “Most likely you’d have changed your mind somewhere along the way. Then where would I be?”

  She sniffled. “Maybe I wouldn’t have. Sex is easy. It’s the rest that messes things up.”

  “Tell me about it.” When he offered her the coffee, she managed to smile and shake her head.

  “I hate iced coffee. I only drank it to seduce you.”

  “Nice touch. You want to tell me about your fight with Giff?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Misery settled over her so heavily she rose and paced, hoping to shake it off. “He doesn’t care about me, doesn’t care what I do or who I’m with. He couldn’t even spare an hour of his precious time for me today.”

  “Sweetheart, he’s crazy about you.”

  She let out a quick laugh. “Being crazy about somebody’s easy too.”

  “Not always. Not when you’re trying to make it all work.”

  Lips pursed, she looked back at him. “Do you really have feelings for Jo?”

  “Apparently.”

  “She’s not easy about anything.”

  “I’m finding that out.”

  “Are you sleeping with her?”

  “Lexy—”

  “Not yet,” she decided and her lips curved. “And it’s making you twitchy.” She came back, sat on the edge of the table. “Want some tips?”

  “I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to discuss ...” He trailed off, then simply abandoned dignity. “What kind of tips?”

  “She likes to be
in charge, in control of things, you know? It’s how she works, how she lives. And always, she keeps that little space, that maneuvering room between herself and someone else.”

  He found himself smiling again, and liking Alexa Hathaway even more. “She’d never guess how well you know her.”

  “Most people underestimate me,” Lexy said with a shrug. “And mostly I let them. But I figure you did me a good turn today, so I’ll do you a good turn back. Don’t let her maneuver too much. When the time comes, you sweep her away, Nathan. I don’t think anybody’s ever swept Jo Ellen away, and it’s just what she needs.”

  She gave him a long, measuring, and very female look, then smirked. “I figure you can handle that part just fine. And I also figure you’re smart enough not to tell her what went on around here.”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  Then the sassy look faded. “Find out what’s wrong with her, Nathan.”

  “Wrong?”

  “Something’s eating at her, and whatever it is, she came here to get away from it. But she isn’t getting away from it. The first week or so she was here, she’d cry in her sleep, or pace the floor half the night. And now and then there’s a look in her eye, like she’s afraid. Jo’s never afraid.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “Me?” She laughed again. “Jo wouldn’t talk to me about anything important. I’m the silly little sister.”

  “There’s nothing silly about you, Lexy. And I, for one, don’t underestimate you.”

  Touched, she leaned over and kissed him. “I guess that makes us friends.”

  “I’d like to think so. Giff’s a very lucky man.”

  “Only if I decide to give him a second chance.” She tossed her head and rose. “Maybe I will—after he crawls some and begs a lot.”

  “As a friend, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to Giff either. He’d feel really bad about pounding me.”

  “Oh, I won’t name names.” She sauntered to the door, glanced back. “But I think you’d handle yourself, Nathan. I do believe you’d handle yourself just fine. ’Bye now.”

  Alone, Nathan rubbed his eyes, his heart, then his stomach. Handling that one, he thought, would be a real challenge. And he wished Giff the very best of luck.

  JO was just loading the picnic hamper when Lexy strolled into the kitchen. Her camera bag sat on the counter, carefully packed. Her tripod leaned against it.

  “Going on a picnic?” Lexy asked airily.

  “I want to shoot some pictures on the north end, thought I’d make an afternoon of it.”

  “All by yourself?”

  “No.” Jo tucked the wine she’d decided on into the basket. “Nathan’s going along.”

  “Nathan?” Lexy hitched herself up on the counter to sit, chose a glossy green apple out of the stoneware fruit bowl. “Why, isn’t that a coincidence.” Smiling, Lexy polished the apple on her blouse, just between her breasts.

  “Is it?”

  “I just came from his place.”

  “Oh?” Though her back went stiff, Jo managed to keep her tone casual.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Enjoying dancing on the edge, and leading her sister to it, Lexy bit into the apple. “I was passing by the cottage, and there he was, sitting out on the screened porch having some iced coffee. He invited me up.”

  “You don’t like iced coffee.”

  Lexy tucked her tongue in her cheek. “Tastes do change. He showed me some floor plans he’s working on. A Mexican villa.”

  “I wouldn’t think you’d be interested in floor plans.”

  “Oh, I’m interested in all kinds of things.” The devil in her eyes, Lexy took another crunchy bite of apple. “Especially good-looking men. That one’s prime beef.”

  “I’m sure he’d be flattered you think so,” Jo said dryly and slapped the lid down on the hamper. “I thought you were going to see Giff.”

  “I saw him too.”

  “You’ve been busy.” Jo hefted the hamper, slung her camera bag over her shoulder. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll lose the light.”

  “Toddle on along then and have a nice picnic. Oh, and Jo? Give Nathan my best, won’t you?”

  When the door slammed, Lexy wrapped an arm around her stomach and howled with laughter. Another tip, Nathan, she thought—rile up that green-eyed monster a bit, then reap the rewards.

  SHE wasn’t going to mention it. She would absolutely not lower herself to bring it up in even the most casual manner. Jo shifted her tripod, then bent to look through the viewfinder to perfect the angle she wanted.

  The sea beat more violently here, whipping and lashing at the rough beach below the jutting bluff. Gulls wheeled and screamed, white wings slashing across the sky.

  Heat and humidity were soaring, making the air shimmer.

  The south wall of the old monastery was still standing. The lintel over the narrow doorway had held. Through it, light and shadow tangled and wild vines flourished. She wanted that abandoned look—the tufts of high grass, the hillocks of sand the wind built, then destroyed.

  She wanted no movement and had to wait, judge the instants of stillness between gusts of wind. A broad depth of field, she thought, everything in sharp focus—the textures of the stone, the vines, the sand, all the varying shades of gray.

  To accomplish it, she had to stop down, decreasing the aperture, slowing the shutter speed. Tilting her lens slightly more toward horizontal, she framed in, careful to block out the ruin of the remaining walls. She wanted it to look as though the building could be whole, yet was still empty and deserted.

  Alone.

  She took her shots, then carried tripod and camera to the east corner. The texture was excellent there, the pits and scars that wind and sand and time had dug into the stones. This time she used the tumbled walls, capturing desolation and loss.

  When she heard a quiet click, she straightened. Nathan stood just to her left, lowering his camera.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking your picture.” He’d managed three before she caught him at it. “You had a nice intense look about you.”

  Her stomach shuddered. Pictures of her, without her being aware. But she forced her lips to curve. “Here, let me have the camera. I’ll take yours.”

  “Better—set the timer on yours and take both of us. In front of the ruins.”

  “This type of view camera, this light, they aren’t made for portraits.”

  “So, we won’t mat it for your next show. It doesn’t have to be perfect, Jo.” He set his camera down. “It just has to be us.”

  “If I had a diffuser ...” Turning her head, she squinted into the sun, then, muttering, changed the camera’s viewpoint to cut back on shadows, calculated the aperture, adjusted shutter speed. She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Jo.” It was a struggle not to laugh. “Think of it as a snapshot.”

  “I will not. Go stand to the left of the opening in the front wall. About two feet over.”

  She waited until he’d walked to the spot she’d pointed out. Through the viewfinder she watched him grin at her. She could do so much better, she thought, if she had some control, had the necessary equipment to manipulate the light and shadows. She’d have been able to highlight his windblown hair, bring out all those different shades of light and dark.

  The light was hard, she decided. It should have been softer, just a little romantic to show off those wonderful eyes, that strong bone structure. With a reflector, some backfill, a diffuser, she could have made this shot sing.

  God, he was attractive. Standing against that worn and pitted stone, he looked so strong and alive. So male and capable. So sexy with that plain gray T-shirt over a broad chest, those faded and worn jeans snug over narrow hips.

  “I see why you don’t do portraits as a rule.”

  She blinked, straightened. “What?”

  “Your model would lapse into a coma waiting for you to set the shot.” Smiling, he stretched out his arm, giving her a come
-ahead curl with his fingers. “It doesn’t have to be art.”

  “It always has to be art,” she corrected. She fussed for another moment, then set the timer and went to stand beside him. “Ten seconds. Hey!”

  He shifted, pulled her in front of him and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I like this pose. Relax and smile.”

  She did, leaning back against him as the shutter clicked. When she started to move, he nuzzled her hair.

  “I still like this pose.” He turned her around, arms sliding and continuing to circle as he lowered his mouth to hers. “And this one even more.”

  “I have to put my equipment away.”

  “Okay.” He simply moved his mouth from hers and skimmed it down her throat.

  Nerves and desire did a pitch and roll inside her. “I—the light’s changed. It’s not right anymore.” Because her knees were going to shake, she drew back. “I didn’t mean to take so long.”

  “It’s all right. I liked watching you work. I’ll help you stow your gear.”

  “No, I’ll do it. I get edgy when anyone fools with my equipment.”

  “Then I’ll open the wine.”

  “Yeah, that’d be nice.” She walked back to her tripod, easing out a long, quiet breath. She was going to have to make up her mind, and very soon, she thought, as to whether she was going to advance or retreat.

  She unhooked her camera, carefully packed it away. “Lexy said she’d been with you this morning.”

  “What?” He could only hope the pop of the cork masked part of the shock in his voice.

  “She said she went by your cottage.” Jo was already cursing herself for bringing it up, and kept her eyes firmly on her work.

  Nathan cleared his throat and suddenly wanted a glass of wine very badly. “Ah, yeah, she did. For a minute. Why?”

  “No reason.” Jo collapsed the tripod. “She said you’d shown her some plans you were working on.”

  Maybe he’d underestimated Lexy after all, he mused, and poured two hefty portions of wine. “The Mexico job. I was doing some fine-tuning on it when she . . . dropped in.”