by Leanne Banks
"You could have been a wealthy woman if you'd married him," Nick said.
Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's what my father says every time I go home. It would have been his money, not mine. I'm happier broke and sweating over calculus than I would have been with Brad."
Silence followed. Feeling Nick's gaze on her, she finally looked at him and saw a tinge of fascination in his blue eyes. It was gone so quickly she wondered if she'd imagined it.
"You are an unusual woman," he said.
She shrugged. "I never thought so."
"The second engagement?"
Olivia sighed. This memory hurt. "Bad judgment on my part," she confessed in a low voice. "Very bad judgment. Sean was as driven as Brad wasn't. Unfortunately, he was driven in a way that involved illegal activities. As soon as I found out, I asked him to stop. When he didn't, I broke it off. Soon after that, he was caught and went to prison."
Olivia couldn't meet Nick's gaze. She could look at his forgotten coffee cup suspended in his hand. She could look at his crisp white shirt and tie, his strong chin and jaw, even his broken nose, but not his eyes. To this day, she still felt ashamed of her poor judgment, and she hated the idea that Nick might look down on her.
"Everyone makes mistakes," he said in a quiet voice that surprised her with the warmth in its undertone.
"This was a biggie."
"It could have been bigger," he noted pointedly. "You could have married him."
His words surprised and relieved her so much she felt a knot of emotion in her throat. She nodded.
"And you learned from it," he said.
She bit her lip, then laughed to push back the unwelcome urge to cry. "Yes. I learned I have not-so-good judgment with men, so maybe getting engaged isn't a good idea for me. Look at the time," she said, changing the subject and wrapping the bagel in a napkin. She was going to drown if she didn't get out of here. "I need to get to my class. So, are those ground rules okay with you?"
He glanced back at the paper. "Only one left. 'Public displays of affection shall be kept to a minimum.'" He shrugged. "The only danger is sex. It's not as if we'll get emotionally involved."
Stunned that Nick could be so sensitive one moment and so utterly male the next, she gaped at him. The last ten minutes she'd taken turn after turn on an emotional roller coaster. She took a careful breath and counted to ten. "That's where we disagree. Good sex and emotion go together," she said. "Otherwise it's just sex," she told him. "And it's not good."
She waited a moment, then decided to end the conversation. "I'm glad we understand each other. Have a nice day," she said, and headed for the door.
Nick caught up with her on the front porch. "I have a client coming tonight," he said to her.
She glanced back at him. "Does this mean you want me to fix dinner or drinks or something?"
He shook his head. "No. It'll be a teenage girl with her mother. The girl has some facial scars and doesn't want to be seen in public." He shrugged. "I don't usually meet with clients at home. I thought you should know they would be in the house."
She could tell from his expression that something about this case weighed heavily on him. "Okay. I can make myself scarce or hang around. Just let—"
"Nick and Olivia!" a woman's voice called.
Olivia turned her head to see Councilwoman Anna Vincent practically skipping across Nick's frost-covered lawn.
"Congratulations, you two," she said as she approached the porch. "I was delighted to read the news, Nick. I had begun to wonder if you would ever get serious with a girl. You must let me hold a party in your honor."
"No!" Olivia and Nick said in unison.
Olivia cleared her throat. "Thank you, but that's not necessary."
"Not at all," Nick added firmly. "Not necessary at all."
Anna shook her head and lifted her hands at their protests. "Of course it's necessary. When Richmond's most eligible bachelor gets engaged, it's cause for celebration. Or mourning for those other girls. Isn't that right, Olivia?" she added with a wink.
Olivia's stomach turned. "Right," she mumbled. "Well, I need to get to class. Have a good day," she said to Anna, then glanced at Nick.
An uncomfortable silence followed.
"See you tonight," he said, and slid his arm around her.
Olivia was so surprised she couldn't move, not even when he lowered his head.
"She's expecting this," he whispered, then kissed her.
At the touch of his mouth on hers, her heart raced. He pulled back slightly and she felt a shocking, unwelcome urge to cling to him. She felt a smidgeon of relief when she noticed Anna walking toward her house, but the controlled expression on his face bothered her. How could he remain so unaffected while she needed a fan? Angry at herself for her reaction and at him for his surprise caress, she bit her tongue to keep from sticking it out at him.
"I would appreciate a little more warning next time," she whispered, "so I can do a better acting job."
"Don't worry. You were very convincing."
Frustration boiled inside her, but Olivia didn't reply. She marched to her car, started the engine and made sure the windows were snugly closed. When she was two blocks away from Nick's house, she screamed at the top of her lungs.
* * *
By the time she returned to Nick's house early that evening, Olivia had decided that Nick had taught her something important. There were worse kinds of men than bullies. And Nick was one of them.
He was a dichotomy that made her crazy. Too intelligent, arrogant, clever, sexy, confident, heroic, occasionally sensitive, but often not, and just plain maddening.
The occasional sensitivity had gotten to her, she concluded. She'd let down her guard. Big mistake. Now she was having trouble with her hormone switch.
She tried to tell herself he was a jerk, but that was tough because the man had saved her life. She would just have to try harder, she vowed as she opened the front door and walked toward the kitchen. She would start tonight by spending the entire evening in her room studying calculus. Hearing voices in the living room, she recalled the visit with his client as she pulled a carton of juice from the refrigerator.
She poured a glass and turned around to lean against the counter as she drank it. She started when she spotted a girl with her head bent downward and straggly light hair in front of her face. "Oh, my goodness! You're so quiet, I didn't know you were here. Would you like some juice?"
The head gave a small shake. The girl hadn't made a sound, but a smothering sense of loneliness seemed to surround her. Olivia would have to be totally insensitive not to feel the pain emanating from the girl. Silence hung heavily in the room and Olivia remembered the rest of what Nick had told her. This was the teenager with the scars. For just a moment Olivia considered leaving the girl alone, but something wouldn't allow her to do it.
"I'm Olivia," she said. "I, uh, I'm Nick's fiancée," she said, and mentally added, For a while. "He's a terrific attorney. You're lucky he's representing you. Is that your mother in there with him?"
The head nodded again.
"You have an unusual hair color. Lovely strawberry-blond," Olivia chatted on, stepping closer. "I used to be a hair stylist, so I tend to notice hair. Has it been a while since you got it cut?"
Silence followed. "My dad's hair is this color," a muffled voice finally said. "It hasn't been cut…" She hesitated. "It hasn't been cut since the accident."
The flat tone of the girl's voice grabbed Olivia's stomach and twisted. "About three months?"
"Yes," the girl said, sounding surprised. She lifted her head a fraction. "How did you know?"
"I know hair," Olivia said. "But what I really need to know is calculus."
"You go to college?" the girl asked.
"Yes," Olivia said, and smiled even though the girl couldn't see it. "I'm twenty-six and I'm a freshman."
"You didn't go when you got out of high school?"
"No." Olivia hesitated. This particular fear was in the past.
Admitting it wouldn't breathe new life into it. "I didn't think I was smart enough."
The girl lifted her head a fraction more, and Olivia saw the beginning of the red scars on her young face. The sight saddened her. At the same time, her mind raced with questions. How had this happened? What kind of accident had scarred her?
"This is supposed to be my junior year, but I don't know if I'll be able to catch up." She moved her right arm, which Olivia just noticed was in a cast. "I'm right-handed."
"How frustrating. I bet you've missed your friends."
The girl nodded. "I haven't seen them in a while."
"They haven't come around?"
"No. I—I haven't wanted anyone to see the scars. They're terrible."
Olivia knew she should be staring at calculus equations in hopes of someday understanding them.
And let this lonely, sad girl keep feeling lonely and sad.
She couldn't have lived with herself if she'd left the room. Calculus could wait a few more minutes for her attention. It wasn't as if she understood it anyway. Sighing, Olivia sat next to her. "I don't have any scars," she said. "I have a birthmark right in the middle of my forehead. It's pinkish purple and about the size of a quarter. My mother told me it was called a stork bite and it usually goes away, but mine didn't."
The girl glanced up to look at Olivia through overgrown bangs. "I don't see it."
Olivia smiled gently and rubbed off her foundation. "The magic of makeup."
The girl lifted her face. "The doctors aren't sure what will happen with my scars. They just say it will take a while for them to heal."
Olivia saw the red streaks across the girl's skin and took a sip of her juice to hide the emotions that roiled through her. Sympathy. Anger. Sympathy again. She tried to imagine how she might have felt if such an accident had happened to her when she was a teenager. She tried to imagine what anyone could have said to make it better, and absolutely nothing came to mind.
"What happened?" she asked.
The girl's gaze slid away. "Car accident. The guy who hit me was a drunk driver. He's fine."
The injustice brought a bitter taste to her mouth. "Fine," she echoed. "Until Nick gets him. And he will."
The girl met her gaze, and just beyond the bleakness of her pale eyes, Olivia thought she saw a flicker of anger. "Yeah," she said.
"What's your name?" Olivia asked.
"Lissa," she said. "Lissa Roberts."
"Well, Lissa, I've got some time on my hands," she said. "How would you like a haircut?"
Thirty minutes later Nick found his client in Olivia's bedroom. The voice of Fiona Apple drifted from the radio. Olivia's shoes were tucked under a chair. One lone cookie and a few crumbs occupied the plate on the nightstand. Half-empty glasses of soda sat on the makeshift magazine coaster.
A tea party? he wondered, and took a second look. Lissa's hair looked different, and he noticed with surprise that she was actually talking. If he believed in sorcery, then he would say Olivia had worked some magic.
The two females sat on the floor surrounded by a beauty counter's supply of cosmetic pots and lipsticks and eye shadows.
Sitting with her legs crossed, Olivia used what looked like a paintbrush on Lissa Roberts's face. "It won't be perfect. It won't cover completely," she said while she painted Lissa's scars. "But if you get tired of the red, you can try this. It'll be better than trying to breathe through the scarf we tried earlier."
Lissa made a noise that sounded almost like weak laughter, causing Nick to stare. More magic? he wondered.
"Maybe I should move to Turkey," the girl said. "They wear scarves all the time there, don't they?"
Catching sight of Nick, Olivia gave him a lopsided smile. "Oh, hi. What do you think of Lissa's hair? She let me cut it."
"It looks pretty. I never noticed the color before," he said, thinking he'd never seen Lissa when her head wasn't tilted downward. Her hair had looked dull and misshapen.
"Here are my favorite Audrey Hepburn-style sunglasses," Olivia said to Lissa as she placed them on the teen's nose. "For when you feel brave enough to go out for ice cream. Or to a movie," she added, smiling gently, then turning to Nick. "All done with your appointment?"
"Yes, Mrs. Roberts is waiting in the study."
"Thank you, Olivia," Lissa said.
"Oh, this was truly my pleasure," Olivia said. "You saved me from facing calculus."
After Lissa's mother complimented Lissa's new cut and thanked Olivia profusely, they left. Nick glanced at Olivia standing beside him as she stared at the door.
"Will you win this case?" she asked, still not looking at him.
He saw the tension in her stiff body and heard the emotion in her voice. "There are no guarantees, but it's likely I can negotiate a sizable settlement for Lissa."
"That sounds like the kind of hedging you're instructed to use with clients," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and meeting his gaze. "I want to know what you really think."
The fire in her eyes echoed in his gut. She was angry about the victimization of Lissa. So was he. He just wouldn't let it control him. "You want to know if I'm going to fry the despicable excuse for a man who nearly killed Lissa. Yes, I am."
"Good," Olivia said, and paused for a moment, shaking her head as if she were reasoning something in her mind. "After that stunt you pulled this morning on the front porch, I tried to convince myself that you are an insensitive jerk without an ounce of tenderness, romance, or any other redeeming quality."
Taken aback by her declaration, but still curious, he lifted his eyebrow. "And now?"
"I still think you can be insensitive, and if you have an ounce of tenderness or romance, you hide it very well," she said.
"But I'm not a jerk and I have some redeeming qualities," he concluded, feeling a slight sting from her assessment.
She smiled, and he wondered why it made him certain the sun had peeked out from a cloud.
"You're a Mighty Warrior Commando," she said. "You get the bad guy even after it looks like he got away."
This wasn't blind hero worship. She spoke with confidence and conviction. The light of admiration in her eyes gave him the heady sense that he could conquer worlds. It was, he thought, more dangerous than any drug or sorcerer's spell.
* * *
Late that night Nick reviewed his notes as he sat in his room. Olivia had taken a shower in the guest bath and a teasing wisp of the scent of her oil lingered. He'd heard her pacing before she finally went to bed.
He'd worked out, showered, and paced to no avail. Although he would deny it to his dying breath, he was too spun up to sleep. Every time he looked at Lissa Roberts, he wanted to punch someone's face in. Every time he felt that urge, he reminded himself he would indeed punch someone, but in a far more crucial area. The bank account.
He shouldn't, however, have gone against his instinct to keep his home strictly off-limits to clients. It brought their worries and despair into his private domain. His home was his island of security, his personal haven.
If the Roberts case wasn't enough to bother him, the knowledge that Olivia was naked, soft, and shiny with oil, just a few steps away, put him over the edge. Her remarks about his insensitivity, and lack of tenderness and romance irritated him, challenged him.
Nick wasn't insensitive, and he could be as tender and romantic as the next guy. Well, romantic, anyway, he mentally amended. He just wasn't impulsive and stupid. If he were impulsive or stupid, he would be pounding down Olivia's door right now telling her to make love to him until his brain and body were numb.
Instead he would be rational while his body burned and his mind tormented him with the seductive possibility that Olivia could be his.
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
"We have a social commitment Friday night," Nick said, nudging Olivia's shoes out of the walkway.
"So soon," she said with a slight grimace. She pulled muffins and roasted chicken out of the oven.
>
"Yes. You don't need to keep cooking for me," Nick told her. "My hands are better now. I can dial take-out again."
She shrugged. "It's a reciprocal response for me. I'm living in your house, so I feel like I need to do something."
Nick could suggest several other reciprocal offers she could make, but he refrained.
She glanced up at him. "Okay. What's the occasion? How dressy? And how adoring will I need to act?"
"Dinner with my boss and his wife. A dress will work." He ground his teeth. "Clarify 'adoring.'"
She scooted into her chair and he pushed it forward, enjoying the slight surprise on her face. "On a scale of one to ten," she said, "how much do I have to act like I think you are the smartest, sexiest, most incredible man in the world?"
Nick paused, his sense of fair play at war with his baser instincts. The idea of seeing how Olivia would act when she was crazy for a man was just too tempting. "My boss and his wife have been waiting for me to get married for years. They have repeatedly lectured me on the merits of matrimony. They want to believe this is the real thing."
Her face fell. "Ten?"
Nick nodded, and barely bit back a smile.
* * *
She wore a calf-length burgundy jacquard dress that nearly succeeded in hiding her curves, yet still gave the impression of easy sensuality. The only giveaway was the scoop neck that revealed the shadow of her cleavage. She wore her hair loosely tied back with a burgundy ribbon woven through it. She also wore an uncertain smile.
She looked sexy and vulnerable, and as Nick presented her to his boss, he felt the oddest sense of protectiveness. He kept the thought to himself since he was certain Olivia was liberated enough she'd kick him in the shin for his attitude.
"Bob and Karen Turner," Nick said, with his hand at the back of Olivia's waist, "this is my fiancée, Olivia Polnecek."
He felt Olivia stiffen for a second at the word 'fiancée,' but then she smiled and extended her hand. "I've heard so much about you. It's nice to get a chance to meet you."