Nick had kissed her. She’d kissed him. Actually, kisses were too mild a word for the fire they’d lit. She’d have let him lift her onto the worktable and take her there. Or she could have pushed him back onto the table and crawled on top of him.
She hugged the amazing knowledge to her heart. He’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him. It had been like a passion bomb. It had just exploded and now the world was totally different.
When this man left…but the stranger was talking. “Ten years back, Hannah was involved with a Steven Loyola.”
She forgot her dreams.
“It’s amazing what people remember,” the stranger said. “And how much they’ll tell you, once a little time has passed.”
Zoe felt her fingernails digging into her palms. Something bad was coming.
“They were at a party. They were both drunk, but Hannah insisted on driving Steven Loyola’s car. She hit another car, but fled the scene before anyone saw her.”
“How did you get this story?” Nick sounded coldly emotionless.
“A girl at the party. She said she liked Steve, knew he was basically a good guy and didn’t want him any more caught up with Hannah. She saw the crash, stopped and helped, but told the police she hadn’t seen who did it.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“The driver was a middle aged man. He was as drunk as Hannah. The alcohol maybe saved him. It relaxed his muscles. He didn’t even get whiplash, though his car was a write-off. Since he wasn’t hurt and was over the alcohol limit himself, the police didn’t put much effort into the case. His passenger broke her pelvis, among other injuries. She was his fourteen year old daughter.”
“Hell.”
Zoe heard the anger and defeat in Nick’s voice. She wrapped her arms around herself. She knew who the stranger was now. A private investigator. Nick must have called him in to find material to counter Hannah’s effort at blackmail. This would work. Hannah would fear court, the chance of a jail term.
And Zoe’s cousin Steve would be destroyed. Doctors weren’t allowed this sort of record.
“We can’t use it,” Nick said.
Chapter Four
“Where the hell did you go, yesterday?” Nick demanded as soon as Zoe walked in the studio door. “One kiss and you ran. Don’t expect me to apologise. I wanted that kiss. You wanted it.”
“I didn’t run because of the kiss.”
Nick looked astonished and almost disappointed. He rallied. “So it was just coincidence that you took off?”
“I had some thinking to do.”
He crowded her personal space. He hadn’t shaved that morning and his blond stubble gave him a rumpled, just out of bed appeal.
She hardened her heart and said a stern “no” to her hormones. What was between her and Nick—if anything beyond explosive chemistry—had to come later. “Are you seeing Hannah today?”
“At lunchtime. Zoe, forget about her. You and I.” He stopped and grabbed her shoulders. “You don’t think I’m really interested in Hannah, do you? I’m just trying to prevent her upsetting Cecy.”
“I know that.” She couldn’t help covering one of his hands with hers before she gently disengaged. The frustrated look in his eyes made her hopeful and scared at the same time. “When Hannah’s gone, then, if you want…”
“Oh, I want,” Nick said grimly.
“Later, then.” She walked to her room, feeling as if she balanced on a tightrope. She heard him curse, stomp into the office and the crash as of a chair sliding back against the wall. She slid her handbag from her shoulder to the floor and looked around for something to fill the morning.
Last night had been the worst of her life. Talk about tangled loyalties. That private investigator had dropped a grenade in the middle of her life. Now she could hear it ticking.
She wanted to protect Steve. Whatever he’d done, he’d built something of his life. He helped people, healed them. He had a fiancée who adored him. The worst of it was, contacting him, asking him to confront Hannah, wasn’t an option.
Of course she could ask Steve, but if she did, it wouldn’t really be a question. If she asked Steve, the man he was now wouldn’t hesitate. He’d sacrifice his career for Cecy and her unborn baby. Even if they could force Hannah to withdraw her blackmail attempt without having to go to the police themselves, her own relationship with Steve, who was like an older and much loved brother, would be altered forever. If he knew she knew, would he withdraw from everyone? From the family, from his fiancée?
Damn Hannah and the damage she caused.
And Nick. He’d said he wouldn’t use the accident to counter Hannah’s blackmail, but if the witch contacted his stepmother, if Cecy lost her baby, Nick would never forgive himself. He was trying to protect his friend, his stepmother and his father.
Someone had to protect Nick.
Zoe had dressed this morning with just that idea in mind. For what she intended, she needed every bit of confidence, not to say bravado, she could scrape up. Her jeans were an expensive pair she usually wore to go clubbing. Normally, they were kept strictly separate from her painting activities, but not today. They slimmed her legs and cupped her bottom just as jeans should. Her sweater was a burnt orange colour cotton. Light enough to be worn in spring, tight enough to show that, yes, she did have curves.
No way was she letting Hannah intimidate her…because there was one other sin to be added to Hannah’s long list of transgressions. She’d ruined Zoe’s first kiss with Nick.
Oh, not the kiss itself. It had been amazing. But the indulgence of it. Zoe should have been able to spend the whole night dreaming of Nick’s mouth—so beautiful, firm and hungry and as delicious as the rest of him. That kiss should have led to other things, to learning his body and feeling his touch, to an intimacy she’d hardly dared hope for.
Nick had a body she wanted to adore.
She pulled her sketchbook of Nick from the desk. It was like a talisman against Hannah’s awfulness and the stress of the situation she’d created. Zoe carried the book to the sofa and curled up with it. If she thought too much of what she intended to do, today, she’d be sick with nerves.
Nick laughing. Nick serious. Nick naked.
It was a serious indulgence to flick slowly through the book, studying Nick and remembering how he frowned in thought or moved with controlled strength or lounged on this very sofa, talking to her.
She picked up a pencil and started sketching.
Two hours later she put down the pencil and rubbed the sore muscles in her neck as she listened to Nick talking to Marly in the front room.
“Yeah, an early lunch,” he said.
“Fudge, fudge, fudge.” The sketchbook went flying as she raced for her handbag. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the small gilt-framed mirror that hung in the corner of the room. “Fudge!” She’d forgotten the time and now she’d have to face Hannah without even the chance to comb her hair.
If she missed this opportunity, all of last night’s heart searching was pointless.
At least Nick wasn’t walking out to the back courtyard to his car. She dropped her car key back into her bag. That made it a heck of a lot easier for her to follow him. She finger combed her hair as she tiptoed up to the doorway to the front rooms and peered through.
Nick was on the street, walking past the window.
She ducked back a second, then scurried out into the showroom.
Marly looked up in surprise.
Deep breath. Don’t explain. I can do this. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. I have an appointment.”
“Uh huh.”
Zoe closed the door on her friend’s skepticism and curiosity. The important thing was not to let Nick see her.
Nick couldn’t remember ever being in a worse mood. Zoe’s retreat was the last straw.
He’d sent Jim Lennon away yesterday with the terse instruction to “find something else”. His memories of Steve’s self-destructive behaviour post-Hannah ten years ago were to
o strong. Although, now that he knew the reason for Steve’s behaviour, he understood his friend’s self-disgust.
But Steve hadn’t been driving the car. Hannah had. Did Steve really deserve to have his career come crashing about his ears because at nineteen he hadn’t been able to control a selfish bitch? How could he have made her stop at the accident she’d caused?
He could have gone back himself.
Nick shut down that small voice. Hannah was his problem, not Steve’s. All he had to do was stall her another day, maybe two. There had to be other sins in her past. Jim would find them. He had to.
And if push comes to shove, if it’s Steve or Cecy?
His jaw set stubbornly. He’d stall Hannah.
She sashayed into the restaurant two minutes after him. Her silver top was cut low and provided ample evidence that she wore no bra. Her black trousers were leather, or a good imitation. She looked like wealthy trash, but maybe that was because he knew her nature. The other male customers at the café were all staring.
He checked his watch. She must have been watching for him in a car or another café. That was good. It meant she was more eager, more tense than she would have him believe. He could work with that.
“You’re asking for too much money,” was his opening salvo once their coffees had been served.
“Really? You can afford it.” She’d added no sugar, but she stirred her espresso anyway. Her full lips were painted a heavy crimson and long, mascaraed lashes hid the expression in her eyes.
He hated her cold selfishness, but he forced a casual tone. “Why should I? The media outlets wouldn’t give you half as much.”
Hannah smiled, sly and self-satisfied as a cat, and lifted her coffee cup to sip. She left a dark red stain on the rim. “Nicky, you’re forgetting to factor in pain and suffering. Saving sweet Cecy from my story and the photos has to be worth something.”
“Oh, it is.” Zoe pulled a third chair up to the table. “Saving Cecy is worth a counter offer of blackmail.”
“Get out of here,” Nick said rudely but with heartfelt intent.
Zoe ignored him. All her attention was on Hannah.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Steve Loyola’s cousin. Remember him? Nick’s friend.”
For an instant, all expression vanished from Hannah’s face, leaving it a mask. Then she flicked her hair in a so-what gesture. “Wimpy Steve. I remember him.”
“He remembers you, too, Hannah. Wild, reckless, drunken Hannah.”
Careful, Zoe. But Nick bit back the words. Whatever game Zoe was playing, Hannah looked more wary of her than she’d ever been of him. Maybe because Hannah had been able to con men in the past, but women could see her for what she was. A blood-sucking parasite.
“I’m here with a message from Steve.”
Hannah sneered. “That I broke his heart, but he wants me back anyway.”
“Nope. Steve’s message is about justice and paying for one’s sins.”
Nick stared at Zoe, trying to read her. Had she gone to Steve with the problem of Hannah? But no, she’d promised not to mention it to anyone. She certainly wouldn’t break that promise to talk to Steve, not to the Steve who’d frightened the Loyolas with his suicidal behaviour post-Hannah.
Unless Zoe had heard Jim Lennon, yesterday? Nick felt a cold chill run down his spine. Oh Zoe, I didn’t want you to know.
“You see, Hannah.” Zoe sounded very confident. “When Steve heard you were threatening another innocent life, he decided enough was enough. He doesn’t want to see you again, but if that’s what it takes he’ll go to court and swear that it was you driving the car that hit that girl and her dad—and you were drunk.”
“He wouldn’t. He didn’t at the time.” Hannah caught her breath, her guilty gaze darting to Nick.
He grinned nastily. “Gotcha. Have you been keeping secrets, Hannah?”
“So what?” She held her nerve, but she snatched her hands off the table, out of view. “There’s a statute of limitations to most crimes and I can always leave the country.”
“People’s behaviour doesn’t change.” Nick leaned forward. He had to end this, now, while Hannah was vulnerable. “Give it up. You chanced it, betting I’d panic into paying you off to spare Cecy. Well, guess what? I’m enough of my father’s son and now that I smell blood in the water, I won’t let up. I’ll be your personal shark, circling and circling. I’ll dig up every bit of nastiness in your life and I’ll show it to the world. I’ll have a word with your good-time friends—or Dad will. You’ll be dropped from guest lists and your bank will shut down your credit. Challenge me, Hannah, and I’ll gut you.”
She retreated for every inch he leaned forward. “I hate you.” Her voice shook.
“And I despise you.” Victory was a sour thing.
Her chair toppled over as she stalked out.
Nick rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off the ugliness of the encounter. He looked thoughtfully at Zoe. Her face was pale and her generous mouth thin with tension. “Does Steve really know that Hannah’s returned?”
“No.”
In the silence between them, the café gradually resumed the hum of conversation halted by Hannah’s dramatic exit.
He studied Zoe with dawning admiration. “You bluffed her.”
“Steve would have said what I said he did.” She gripped her hands closely together. “If I’d told him. He’s a man now.”
“Not a scared boy?” He leaned forward and covered her hands. “I wanted to keep you out of this, but you were right. What you brought to the table was a truth that collapsed Hannah’s rotten house of cards. She believed my threat because of your obvious integrity. It was enough to change the balance of power.”
“So Cecy’s safe?”
“Thanks to you.”
“No.” She smiled faintly. “It was you who took on the burden of Hannah’s blackmail. You’re a good man, Nick Gordon.”
“I’d like to be something more,” he said quietly. “I’d like to be your man.”
Chapter Five
Zoe cast a quick look around the café. After Hannah’s dramatic exit, the other customers were still curious about her and Nick. For this, she wanted privacy. “Could we go back to the studio?”
His chair grated as he stood. “Good idea, but you have to answer my question.”
“I will.” Even she could hear the husky promise in her voice.
Nick kept his hand low on the curve of her back as they walked. The heat of his palm sent shivers and tingling awareness through her. It was a touch that asked and claimed.
“Take an early mark,” he said to Marly when they reached the studio.
Marly looked a wide-eyed question at Zoe, then her gaze darted between the two of them. Although Nick no longer touched Zoe, the tension and electricity between them was obvious. Marly grinned. “No problem, boss. I’m out of here.” She winked at Zoe.
Nick flipped the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ as he shut and locked it. Then he looked at Zoe with heart-stealing seriousness. “Am I yours?”
“I want to say yes. I want to, so much.”
He walked up to her, standing close enough to run his hand up and down her arm. “Why can’t you?”
“You’re out of my class, Nick. No.” As his mouth compressed. “Not money. I mean how you look. You’re gorgeous and you date stunning women. I can’t match your experience or sophistication.” She put all her insecurities out there, on display.
“You don’t have to. God, Zoe. If I wanted a plastic beauty, I could have thousands. When I was young and stupid I fell for women like Hannah. You saw how well that went. You said Steve is a man, now. I am, too. I want what he’s found. A woman to love, to build a life with.” He raked a hand threw his hair. “Hell. I didn’t mean to lay all that on you just yet.”
She placed her hand on his chest. “All that?”
“Is it too much? I don’t want to scare you. We can take this slow, see how it develops.” But his dreams were
in his eyes.
He wanted to dream his dreams with her.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“What else would shatter that sophistication you mentioned?” He smiled down at her, wry, wary, hopeful. He covered her hand with his, pressing it harder over his heart. “I want everything, Zoe—with you.”
His confession broke something inside her. It cracked her fears, which crumbled like vampires in sunlight. Everything she wanted was hers for the taking. She reached out. “Me, too.”
His kiss prevented further words. Zoe melted into this most basic form of honesty. His hunger and hers, the need burning in them, and the sweet, singing euphoria that the one you love, loved you back. She ran her hands down his spine as she arched into him, feasting on his kisses. It felt so good, so amazingly right.
“Not here.” Nick cast a hunted glance at passersby who could see them through the window. “Your room. Your sofa.”
He tugged her towards privacy and she laughed, delighted in his loss of cool and her own surrender.
“Laugh at me.” Once through the doorway and out of sight of the world, he pressed her against the wall. He kissed her fiercely. This was no polite seduction. It was raw hunger, soul deep need.
She gasped as he lifted her, fitting her to his arousal, grinding just enough that her own arousal flared into a pulsing ache. She wrapped her legs around his hips. Now the slightest movement set up the best kind of friction.
“Duck your head.” He carried her into her room.
His strength sparked wildfire through her body. She whispered his name as he slowly lowered her to the ground. She clutched at his shirt, kissing his throat, kissing any place she could reach.
“Ah Zoe.” He bent to clear the sofa, keeping her close with one arm.
She couldn’t work out why he suddenly stopped until she followed his gaze.
“You were drawing me?”
The most recent sketch showed how he’d looked kissing her.
Drawing Closer Page 3