He stared at her as if she’d just suggested he’d broken the last remaining law of decency. “I didn’t throw you away! I know I handled things poorly that evening—”
Daisy pulled her gaze away from his chest and laughed bitterly. “You think ‘poorly’ handles it? That must be one of those understatements you prep-school boys are so fond of. I thought you were a prince, but it turned out you were nothing but a frog. My, God, I was a virgin—”
“I didn’t know that!”
“Maybe not when we went up to the room,” she conceded ungraciously. “But—”
“I didn’t. You wore that slinky little dress—”
She felt her jaw sag. “Are you saying that I was asking to get laid?”
“No. Yes. No, dammit. But you gotta admit you acted as if you knew the score.”
“How? By dancing with you at the reception? By flirting? My God, Nick. You swept me off my feet. I thought you were so…” Dazzling. Interested in me. Until that night, he had acted as if she were just a pesky little kid, and she could still remember the thrill of having him treat her like a woman. Yes, she had flirted, but how could she have possibly done otherwise? He’d been a god, golden and exciting, and he’d made her feel exciting, too.
She refused to admit anything of the kind now, though. She’d sound like an infatuated dork. Giving her head an impatient shake, she searched determinedly for the conversational thread she’d dropped. “Besides, if you didn’t know I was inexperienced going in, you sure as hell knew it by the time the deed was done.”
God, yes. Nick was forced to acknowledge that he’d had no excuse. His finger had discovered proof of her virginity during an intense moment of foreplay. He could have, should have, stopped it right there.
But he hadn’t. After fighting his basic instincts for what had felt like a millennium, he’d been consumed by the powerful chemistry that had drawn him to Daisy since the first moment he’d clapped eyes on her.
For years she’d been the featured player in some of his hottest, sweatiest fantasies, but until that moment he’d convinced himself that he would never give in to a lust he had no business feeling in the first place. He was stronger than that, he’d assured himself; more honorable by leagues. Hadn’t he kept himself at a safe distance when they’d lived in the same house? And once their parents had broken up, hadn’t he put her firmly out of his mind? Hell, yes. He’d pursued women his own age, made friends with his fist. He’d taken a lifetime’s worth of cold showers.
But Mo had gotten married that night. And while he’d been happy for his sister, he’d also felt cut adrift as he’d watched his one constant ally forsaking all others to cleave unto her new husband.
And there Daisy had been, with her laughter and her warmth, and her flirty little dress and big, admiring eyes. He had fought the good fight, dammit; had fought it for a very long time. It had simply been beyond him to continue the fight when he’d had her naked and aroused in his arms. Somebody was going to relieve her of her virginity, he’d figured; it might as well be him. At least he could make it good for her.
As if she’d read his mind, Daisy said fiercely, “You were happy enough to relieve me of my virginity, but, boy, the minute you got yours, you couldn’t wait to get out of there.”
All Nick’s defenses slammed into place. “What did you expect, Blondie? That I’d say making love with you was better than anything I’d ever experienced before? That I’d suggest we rush right off to the nearest justice of the peace?” He made his tone deliberately mocking, because the truth was he’d been tempted to say and do exactly that. And it had scared the shit out of him.
Daisy’s laugh was caustic. “No, I certainly knew better than that. But you said you loved me while you were screwing me, so neither did I expect you to roll right off me and head for the door.” She hugged herself, and he noticed with surprise that she was shaking. “Call me a starry-eyed optimist, Coltrane, but I’d just given you something that I’d vowed to hang on to for my husband. I don’t think an ‘atta girl’ would have been out of place.”
To Nick’s utter horror, Daisy’s voice cracked on the last word and tears pooled in her large eyes, making them look enormous. Smart-mouthed, indomitable Daisy…crying? Before he could react, she spun on her heel and fumbled for the doorknob. He reached out for her, but the minute his hand touched her shoulder, Daisy jabbed back with her elbow, catching him in the gut.
“Back off!” She pulled the door open. “I’ll stand guard out here.”
The door slammed shut behind her and, rubbing his abdomen, Nick turned to lean against it. Then he slid bonelessly down its surface until he sat on the cool concrete floor. Propping his elbows on his knees, he ground the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. He felt as if he’d just been hit between the eyes with a sledgehammer. God, he was an idiot. A blind idiot.
How else could he have convinced himself that she’d forgotten that night? God Almighty, she’d been a flaming virgin—of course she remembered. That wasn’t the sort of thing a woman just blew off. He’d been her first lover and had left her high and dry shortly after introducing her to something pretty damn momentous. It hadn’t been as bad as she’d made it out to be, but the truth was, he’d protected himself at her expense. How could he have been so obtuse as to believe she’d actually forgotten about it?
His hands dropped away and his head thunked back against the door. Okay. It was not one of his brighter conclusions, obviously. Daisy wasn’t exactly the sort of woman to simply forgive and forget. But until two minutes ago, he’d been convinced that night had impacted him alone, and for that he had to give the little lady a cigar. She was one cool customer. The Daisy he knew had always been brutally honest, so when she’d looked at him as if he were an egotist for thinking she might recall the way they’d burned up the sheets together, he’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.
Not that she’d flat-out lied. She hadn’t come out and actually said she didn’t remember. But she had looked right through him, and she’d pretended she didn’t recall how long it had been since they’d seen each other, and he’d made the precise assumption she’d wanted him to make.
He pushed to his feet. So now he knew better.
The real question was, where the hell did they go from here?
“Absolutely nowhere—that’s where we go.” Back in the apartment, Daisy stared at him as if he’d sprouted an additional head. “You think just because you’ve come to some nine-years-belated revelation that this is a brand-new situation?” She looked down her nose at him—quite a feat, Nick thought sourly, for someone who was a good eight inches shorter than he was. “Think again, Coltrane.”
What he thought was that if he were the least bit intelligent, he would have given her more than a lousy hour to cool down. Daisy’s eyes were narrowed and her lips pressed together until all hint of softness was eradicated. “I don’t suppose you’d accept my apologies at this late date, either?”
“You’ve got that right, bud. You can take your lame apologies and stuff ’em. There was a time when I would have loved to hear them. I don’t care anymore.”
It rankled, but damned if he’d let it show. “Good for you. Then you can just sit here and pout.” The insulted tilt of her not-so-dainty nose warmed the cockles of his heart. “I’m going to call my sister.”
“Yeah, well…tell her hello for me,” Daisy muttered and stomped away.
Reid was just contemplating how quiet an empty house could be when the phone rang. He snatched it up before it had a chance to ring a second time. “Cavanaugh residence.”
“Reid? It’s Nick. Is Mo around?”
“No. She’s showing a place tonight.”
“Oh.” The line was silent for a moment, then Nick blew out a soft breath and said, “It’s not as if I really have anything to report, anyway. Just tell her I haven’t come up with the money yet to get her out of her jam, but I do have a pretty good bidding war going with a few of the tabloids, and I’ll hear something definiti
ve by Friday night. How about you; have you come up with anything?”
An icy knot gathered in Reid’s gut. Nick hated the tabloids—only something extremely serious would compel him to sell one of his photos to one. But he managed to say, “I haven’t had any luck yet, either.” Jesus. What the hell had Mo gotten herself into? And why did Nick know about it, when he didn’t?
“Did you find out what she needed the money for?” Nick asked. “She wouldn’t say, but you know Mo. It had to be to bail someone out of trouble.”
Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Me,” Reid said, but the word was barely audible and he had to clear his throat. “She paid off a loan that I’d cosigned. I was mad at her for not trusting me to handle it myself. And now she’s…”
“In serious shit.” Nick blew out a breath. “You can’t take the responsibility on yourself, though, Reid. You and I both know she has a bad habit of smoothing over other people’s problems—whether they care to have them smoothed or not. And she sure as hell didn’t think this one through before she jumped in with both feet.” Nick was silent for a moment, then said, “Well, listen. I’ll call the minute I’ve got something to report. You do the same, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” Reid didn’t remember hanging up the phone. He sat in a stupor in his soft leather chair, hunched over with his elbows on his widespread thighs, blindly staring at his loosely clasped fingers as shadows crept across the hardwood floor.
The entire room was enveloped in post-twilight gloom by the time he heard the front door open and close. He watched his wife cross the foyer and waited for her to step out of her heels and set her briefcase on a shelf of the small table before he spoke.
“Your brother called.”
Mo slapped a hand to her breast and whirled to face the archway. “My God, Reid, you scared ten years off my life!” She walked into the living room. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?” She bent to turn on a table lamp.
“Wondering where you got the money you used to pay my loan.”
Mo froze. “You say you talked to Nick?”
“I did. And a funny thing, Maureen—he has information about some trouble you’re in that he thought I knew about, too.” His fingers tightened as he met her eyes. “We both know that isn’t true. So, I ask you again: how did you pay off my loan?”
She collapsed onto the couch perpendicular to his chair. “I borrowed from one of my escrow accounts.”
His knees went weak, and in a far corner of his mind he acknowledged it was a good thing he was already seated. “You did what?” She merely stared at him over her white knuckles as they mashed her lips against her teeth. “But that’s…not legal.” And the last thing Mo would ever do was something criminal. “Why would you do that?”
She brought her hands down, fingers tightly woven together, to rest in her lap. “I thought I was helping you.”
She’d wanted to help him? It surprised Reid that she’d bother. She’d been so distant for so long, he’d pretty much begun to assume she’d merely stuck with him out of a stubborn refusal to give anyone the opportunity to say, Like father, like daughter. It shocked him to think she would risk not only her reputation but her very freedom for him.
For the first time in months he looked at her closely. Not just at her elegant features or shiny brown pageboy, but at all of her. Mo was a big woman, tall and well rounded. He’d always liked holding her; she’d felt substantial in his arms. Today, she appeared smaller.
Somehow that made his hopes rise, which no doubt said something unflattering about his character. But she was always so relentlessly efficient that he’d long felt superfluous to their marriage. When she’d finally accepted that nagging wouldn’t halt his habit of making high-risk personal loans, she’d gone out and started her own realty firm without so much as an iota of input from him. That had hurt, and his response had been to focus on his own interests while ignoring hers, which had caused her to distance herself further yet. Maybe now, though, he could finally do something for her. He unlinked his hands and leaned forward. “What made you think that putting yourself at risk would help me?”
“It was only supposed to be for a day or two,” she said. “I’d sold an apartment building on Nob Hill, and my commission would have more than covered what I borrowed. I should have been able to replace the money without anyone being the wiser. Except…”
When she just sat there staring at the pale tangle her fingers made against her coca silk skirt, he prompted, “Except?”
She didn’t look up. “Except the inspection turned up substandard wiring, and the seller doesn’t think it should be his responsibility to bring it up to code, and the buyer is talking about backing out. And until they get it straightened out”—her plump shoulders sketched a brief shrug—” no commission.” She raised her gaze to meet his eyes and he was shocked to see tears standing in her eyes. Crying was not something he associated with Mo.
“I’m such an idiot, Reid. A criminal idiot.” The tears trickled over her lower lids and slid silently down her cheeks.
“No, you simply took a gamble that you thought had good odds, and the odds turned on you. But the good news is”—he reached out to gently wipe away her tears with his fingertips—“you’re talking to the King of Bad Odds. I know all about turning bad ones into decent ones. So dry your eyes, honey, because I’m going to make it my number one priority to turn this mess around for you.”
10
wednesday
DAISY awoke slowly. She rolled onto her back, draping her arm over her eyes against the annoying light that filtered through her eyelids. She yawned hugely. She stretched. Then slowly, reluctantly, she lowered her arm and opened her eyes.
Wearing nothing but a pair of khakis, Nick squatted next to the couch, and the shocked breath she sucked in at finding him there resulted in a girlish “eek”. Her hand slapped to her chest in a reflexive bid to contain the sudden kick of her heart…and encountered the warmth of skin.
She scrambled upright, aware of her bare arms and legs as she reached to the foot of the couch where she’d kicked the sheet. The apartment still retained a hint of last night’s stuffiness and sunshine streamed through the windows. All indications pointed to a hotter day than yesterday. “What?” she snarled as she pulled up the sheet and tucked it under her armpits. She retrieved her gun from under her pillow. “What now?”
“Here.” Nick thrust a steaming mug into her hands, and her eyes closed in ecstasy as she inhaled the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Cracking one eye open, she gave him a wary once-over as she sipped from the mug. She sure wished he’d put on a shirt. All that skin and muscle was distracting.
He rose to sit on the trunk that served as a coffee table. Reaching back, he pushed the corner of her weapons case from under his rump; then he straightened and regarded her without favor. “You sleep like the dead.”
“Well, excuse me. You’ll be happy to know I don’t charge for my sleeping time.”
“Great. I’ll take immense comfort in the knowledge when the goons goose-step past you to blow me away in my bed.”
She lowered the mug. “What do you suggest, Nick, that I sleep with one eye open? Or perhaps you’d prefer that I didn’t sleep at all.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“No, you only implied my sleep patterns make me incompetent.” She eyed him over the rim of her cup. “On the other hand—and much as I hate to give you credit for anything—you do have a point. Maybe you should think about hiring someone else for the night shift.” Then I could go home and regroup—and maybe have a better handle on this crazy situation during the days.
“Oh, yeah, I’ll give that some real thought…the minute I earn enough money for another retainer.” He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Speaking of which, get dressed. We’ve gotta leave in half an hour.”
“Dammit, Coltrane!” Daisy erupted from the couch, coffee sloshing, sheet slipping. She set the mug aside and rose to glower at him. “What will it take to keep you o
ff the streets? Didn’t yesterday teach you anything?”
“Sure it did. From now on, I look both ways before I cross the street.” He shrugged his bare shoulders. “I have bills to meet, Blondie—obligations to my clients.”
“You have a death wish, is what you have.”
He ran a chemical-roughened fingertip down her forearm to the hand holding the gun at her side. “You’re the one who keeps telling me how good you are.”
Her flesh rose in the wake of his touch, and she slapped his hand away. “I am good. But if you refuse to exercise any precautions there’s only so much I can do to ensure your safety.” Despite his flippant attitude, she sensed an underlying anger in him that she didn’t understand. But she saw by the closed, stubborn set of his face that she was wasting her breath arguing, so she pushed past him. “Fine. I’ll go get ready.” Her arm inadvertently brushed the warm skin of his side and the awareness that immediately stood every nerve on end maddened her.
Standing beneath the pounding spray of the shower a minute later, she wondered why on earth she still clung to a job that had disaster written all over it in foot-high, flaming letters.
Yes, she needed Nick’s retainer. And certainly she wanted her business to succeed. But this was insanity—Nick pushed all her buttons, brought out her worst personality traits. Every minute spent in his company wound her tighter than a cheap watch, and at the rate she was going she was bound to blow sky high before too long. Then there would be hell to pay.
Nick obviously didn’t respect her expertise, and she couldn’t even lay the blame for that solely at his door. Not when she kept behaving so unprofessionally. She’d failed time after time to use her head when circumstances called for it and had reacted instead with a blind impetuousness most adolescents would be embarrassed to claim. Nick was the only person she knew who could annihilate her control without breaking a sweat. He annoyed her; he infuriated her.
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