If the roads into town looked anything like his yard, it would be few days before she’d be able to venture into town. That meant more time with Nick.
Nick ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Let’s go inside and listen to the news. Soon as the roads are cleared and the causeway is open, you’re heading back.”
Gosh, it was as if he’d just read her thoughts. Veronique’s heart sank at his resolute tone. Why couldn’t the stubborn man chill and let her stay a little longer?
“You sound like a broken record. I already agreed to go back. You don’t have to keep reminding me,” she grumbled.
“Good,” he grunted. “It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed seeing you again, Ronnie. I just need to be alone.”
Her mood lightened when he admitted he’d enjoyed seeing her again. She smiled and didn’t budge an inch as she stood before him. Nick didn’t move a muscle either. Her gaze caught on his mouth, and she swallowed a pleasurable sigh at the thrilling memory of his kiss last night. Her glance lowered to the smooth brown column of his neck. He had felt strong and solid with her arms wrapped around him. The vivid memory made her want to wrap her arms around him now.
Nick’s bronze chest and wide shoulders rocked her senses. He was brown all over, his body a beautiful array of sinew, ridges and well-defined muscle. She’d had a hard time keeping her eyes averted when he’d walked out this morning clad only in a pair of faded, low rise jeans.
She sucked in a breath and took in her fill of his male beauty. She would have loved to glide her hand over his chiseled torso. She felt his penetrating eyes on the top of her head. When she glanced up, her mouth parted and her breath came in shallow pants as she gazed at him, wide-eyed and tingling with desire.
“Don’t look at me that way.” Nick’s voice held a compelling edge.
Her breath hitched in her chest. “Why not?” she asked softly, not taking her eyes from his mouth. She took a step closer and waited.
“We’re not going there again.” His voice sounded low and gravelly…and hot.
She knew he was referring to their kisses last night. Disappointment over his restraint made her heart sink.
She shook her head ruefully. “You have more willpower than I do. I liked last night.” She touched the side of his face and hoped with all her heart he’d kiss her again. But when his mouth tightened, she removed her hand. “I wish Daisy hadn’t shown up and ruined everything.”
“She’s going home today,” he stated evenly.
“Good. Glad to hear it, Señor Nicky,” Veronique said in a playful tone.
Nick pulled his sunglasses off and met her gaze with blistering blue fire. “I’m not in the mood for jokes.”
Her face heated up instantly. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I didn’t mean to annoy you.” The problem with Nick’s no-nonsense personality was that it often tempted her to tease him. This was not a good time for that. Definitely not.
“I’m curious about Daisy. How old is she?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Really? She looks younger.” Veronique searched his face for a reaction, but he remained impassive. “How long has she been working for you?”
“Long enough to know she’d better quit calling me Señor Nicky if she wants to keep her job,” he said in a tone so disgusted, Veronique had to swallow a giggle rising inside her. She managed to squelch it, but the corners of her mouth turned upward.
“She’s sneaky about getting her way. If she wasn’t such a good cook and excellent housekeeper, I’d let her go,” he said.
“I’m sure you could find someone just as good,” Veronique said casually.
“She needs the money to support her baby. She lives with her dad, who’s my gardener. Felipe’s a decent, hardworking man and he’s got his hands full with her and his grandson. Daisy is too damned impulsive.” He paused and slanted a meaningful look at her.
She lifted a challenging brow. “You think I’m too impulsive? Is that what you’re—”
The rest of her words halted when she saw a man heading toward them with a machete. Nick’s back was turned to him, but Veronique saw he was a swarthy man in combat fatigues and dirt-encrusted field boots.
Chapter Eight
“Nick. Who’s that with the machete?” Veronique said from of the corner of her mouth.
Nick turned around and surprised her by waving at the approaching man.
“You know him?”
“Yeah, he’s the gardener.” Nick strode up to the gardener and clapped him on the shoulder. “Felipe, you’re just the man I wanted to see.”
Felipe nodded. “I’m here to help, but first I have to find Daisy. Is she here?”
Nick frowned. “Yeah, she’s here. Didn’t you know?”
“No. I told her not to go to your house. She must have walked all the way over.” He raised his hands in a gesture of despair. “Or hitched a ride.”
“I had no idea your daughter was here until she came running out of the guesthouse last night when a tree hit the window.”
Felipe’s ire dissolved into fatherly concern. “Was she hurt?”
“No, she’s fine. Sorry, Felipe. Daisy told me you knew she was here.”
Felipe’s face and neck turned red. “I didn’t. Where is she?”
“In the kitchen. Come on,” Nick said in a resigned tone.
Felipe set the machete down and muttered in Spanish under his breath.
Nick motioned toward Veronique. “By the way, this is Veronique Whitcomb. She’s visiting from New York.”
“Nice to meet you,” Felipe mumbled, clearly agitated and not up to meeting anyone.
“Same here,” Veronique said brightly. She was more than pleased to meet him. His arrival would take Daisy out of their hair.
* * *
They found Daisy in the kitchen at the gas stove with Baxter at her feet. The tempting aroma of sizzling bacon, fried eggs and freshly brewed coffee made Veronique’s stomach growl.
Daisy’s back was turned as she slid the eggs onto a white ceramic platter. Wearing skimpy red shorts and a snug white tank top, her round hips jiggled to the beat of the Spanish song she sang in a throaty voice. An apron was tied around her waist and her long black ponytail reached the apron ties just above her behind. The edge of her shorts barely covered where her full bottom cheeks met curvy thighs, and the girl’s firm, golden flesh didn’t have an ounce of cellulite.
Was this Daisy’s usual work attire? Veronique hoped not. Nick was sure getting an eyeful today. She stole a glance at him, fully expecting his eyes to be glued to Daisy Duke’s provocative posterior, but they weren’t. His attention was on Felipe, who looked spitting mad.
“Daisy! What are you doing here?” Felipe demanded.
In mid-song, Daisy whirled around and greeted her father with a sassy smile. “Oh, hi, Papi. I was making breakfast for Señor Nick.”
She held up the platter of eggs and bacon. Ignoring her father’s irate face, she carried it to the kitchen table and set it down.
“Look,” Daisy said, pointing to the nicely set table.
“I told you not to come here last night!” Felipe thundered in Spanish. “Why did you lie to me?”
Daisy darted a mortified glance at Nick. “I didn’t lie. I was going to stay with Doña Miriam like I told you, but when I got to her house, her son had already taken her to Fort Myers.”
They argued in rapid fire Spanish and Veronique understood most of it. From the annoyed look on his face, Nick did too.
Felipe’s dark eyes glowered with censure. “Your mother spoils you too much, watching your baby and making life easy. You should have been home taking care of Manolito. He’s sick.”
Daisy quickly switched to English. “Mami knows better how to take care of him. Don’t be mad, Papi. I came to help Señor Nick. He’s been so generous with us—” she said, giving Nick a sidelong glance from beneath her curly lashes.
“Yes, too generous with you. You will work clearing the yard with me today,” Feli
pe said firmly.
“No! You know I hate to work outside.” Daisy’s hands formed fists at her sides as she stood in rigid defiance before her father. The nostrils of her tip-tilted nose flared and her cheeks turned crimson beneath flashing eyes. “Señor Nick needs me here,” she said, gesturing toward the pans on the stove.
“Don’t worry about that. I can help with the housework,” Veronique interjected, eliciting a raised brow from Nick.
Daisy gave her a hate stare. “You?” she spat out scornfully.
“Be quiet,” Felipe commanded his daughter.
Baxter’s ears pulled back and he began to growl.
“I’ll say what I want.” Daisy untied her apron, tossed it to the floor and ran toward the door. Baxter got up from his prone position and followed.
“Come back here, Bax,” Nick commanded. The lab came to his side and nudged Nick’s hand with his snout. He patted the top of Baxter’s head. “Good boy.”
Felipe yelled after Daisy, “Where are you going?”
A slammed door was her only response as she flew outside.
Felipe turned to Nick. “I apologize for Daisy. She acts like a child sometimes. She’s nineteen and should know better!” Red-faced, he retreated from the kitchen.
Nick looked disgusted when Felipe closed the door. “Nineteen? Hell, she lied about that too. I knew she was taking night classes at the junior college, but I had no idea she was so young.”
Veronique raised her eyebrows. “Why would she tell you otherwise?” she asked as she filled two mugs with steaming coffee from the stovetop percolator and joined him at the table. If Daisy was taking night classes, she must have been a good student in high school.
Nick shrugged. “Beats me.” He took the outstretched mug from her. “Aah,” he said, inhaling the strong aroma. “She makes good coffee though. Let’s eat.”
“Hold it. We have to conserve water. Let’s use the paper plates I brought.” Veronique made short work of replacing the dishes with paper plates and the flatware with plastic utensils.
She slowly chewed a strip of perfectly crisp bacon while she watched Nick dig into his food with gusto. The recent exchange between Daisy and her dad had left a bad taste in her mouth. Nick, on the other hand, was relishing his breakfast.
“Gotta hand it to her. Daisy is a good cook, even though she doesn’t tell the truth,” Veronique acknowledged. She raised her brows and met his gaze. “She was cooking up more than breakfast in that outfit. Felipe looked furious.”
“Can’t say that I blame him. She shouldn’t have lied.” Nick set his fork down and splayed his hands out in a stretch. “There’s too much damn drama going on around here. That girl is outta control.”
No kidding. From the way Nick acted toward Daisy, she surmised they hadn’t slept together—yet. Daisy was sixteen years younger than Nick, but she was out to seduce him. Why else would she cook in such revealing shorts? The baby doll she’d worn last night had been practically see-through—good thing they’d been in the dark. This morning, Daisy had been wearing pink lip gloss and gold hoop earrings. Who wore earrings and make-up after a hurricane, for God’s sake?
Veronique fed Baxter a piece of her bacon. “How did she come to be your housekeeper? Did she ask for the job?”
“She didn’t have to. When I saw her working in the yard with a pregnant belly, I brought her inside to work.”
Her heart fluttered as she gazed at him tenderly. She had a soft spot for Nick’s innate compassion. It knocked her off her feet every time—especially now. What a dichotomy—a successful corporate raider who was capable of compassion. No wonder Zack and Elizabeth had thought they could destroy him.
“That was kind of you,” she said.
“I’m not the same guy at camp, Ronnie,” Nick said, his tone flat.
“You’re still kind,” she persisted, smiling at him.
He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from side to side, working out the kinks. “I wouldn’t call it being kind. I needed a housekeeper and she fit the bill. I had sunk down real low, drinking too much and sleeping too much.”
“When was this?” she asked, hating to imagine Nick like that.
“Six months ago. I was a mess and this place was a shambles.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What made you clean up?”
“I didn’t want to end up like my old man. He was a nasty, mean drunk. The day Mom left him and took my sister and I with her is the day I started living without fear.”
“I hear you,” Veronique said with a heavy sigh. “My dad wasn’t a mean drunk, just a sloppy one. I hated to see him stumbling around.” When her famous father had drunk too much he’d became a drooling, crass man who couldn’t keep his balance. She shuddered at the memory.
“Not a pretty sight for a little girl,” Nick commiserated, shaking his head.
“Yes, but when Daddy was sober, he was awesome.” She couldn’t help feeling bad that she’d brought to light her father’s tragic flaws. “Every morning, we’d have breakfast together and instead of reading the paper, he’d give me his full attention. He always asked, ‘What good thing are you planning on doing today, Ronnie?’ He was big on social reform. So am I.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly.
She tapped his hand. “You’re one to talk. You have a strong social conscience too.”
Nick didn’t respond to that, just sat there gazing at her with an unreadable expression.
She sighed. “Luckily, I only saw Daddy in bad form a few times because I had a ridiculously early bedtime.”
“I never had a bedtime. What time was yours?”
“Nine o’clock. Nanny Millie was a real drill sergeant. No amount of pleading or arguing changed her mind. But when she left the room and got out of my hair, I would read till midnight,” she said with a triumphant grin.
He nodded. “Just like when you were in camp.”
Astonished that he’d bring it up, she said, “You remember that?”
“The only time you were quiet was when you were reading or drawing. Are you still drawing caricatures?”
She chuckled. “Absolutely. They’re my wicked form of therapy…and revenge.”
“I better not catch you drawing pictures of me,” he growled, eyes darkening to midnight blue. He braced his forearms on the table with fingers laced together as he held her gaze.
“You wound me, Nick. Don’t look at me that way. I’m innocent,” she said, ignoring the twinge of guilt. If he only knew the sketch she’d been planning of him covered in plaster. He’d looked so ferocious—and cute. A big, grouchy bear dusted in snow. “Back to Daisy. I take it she got your house in order.”
He pushed back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “You could say that. Within a week of hiring her, everything was spotless and organized. She cooked up some fine meals too. That girl loves to cook and is a clean freak. It’s the only reason I’ve kept her on.”
“I’m not exactly Suzie Homemaker, so I can’t fault you there,” Veronique said with a wry smile. “Frankly, I’d much rather work outside. Housework is boring.”
“And yet you offered to do it just to get rid of Daisy. How generous of you.” Nick’s lips curved upward and the hard planes of his face softened, making her wish he’d kiss her again.
“Somebody had to get rid of her,” she said, not taking her eyes from his.
“You don’t pull any punches, do you, Ronnie?” The flash of appreciation in his eyes sent a ripple of pleasure through her.
“Nope. My lack of a filter has gotten me in trouble a few times,” she admitted, returning his warm smile. Her heart did a little dance, relishing their moment together. They’d shared a good meal and he was opening up to her. The ever-present wariness in his eyes had lessened, making him appear more relaxed, even approachable.
“I’ll bet,” he grunted.
“You don’t pull any punches either, Nick.”
He grew silent as he regarded her across t
he table with brooding eyes.
Veronique lowered her gaze and collected her wits. When she looked up, he was still watching her beneath hooded lids. “So…where’s the father of the baby? Is Daisy married?”
“No. He wants to marry her, but she refuses.”
Veronique leaned in. “Really? Why?”
Nick shrugged and his face shuttered, signaling the subject was closed. “Who knows? It’s none of my business…or yours. Don’t put your reporter hat on, Ronnie.”
Holding his mug in his hand, he rose from the table and deposited it in the sink.
So much for their moment. Disappointed, Veronique drained her coffee and pushed back from the table. Baxter roused from his nap on the floor and went to his water bowl, where he slurped noisily.
“I’m going to try to reach Natasha again. Leave everything there. I’ll clean up,” she said, gathering the paper plates and plastic forks.
“Sure you can handle it? It might be too boring,” Nick taunted.
“Oh shut up,” she said, grinning.
She turned on her heel and sauntered away. After Daisy’s ample display in the short shorts, she felt a bit lacking in the way of curves. But Nick was male, and she was sure he’d be looking at her retreating backside and legs.
Might as well give him something to watch. She threw in a little extra hip swaying and glanced over her shoulder.
Sure enough, he was checking her out. Her stomach did a neat flip flop as her pulse kicked up a notch.
Chapter Nine
Nick shook his head and tamped down his body’s instant reaction to Ronnie’s saucy exit. She was going to be his undoing. He knew she was trouble from the moment she appeared at his door and he sent her away. He didn’t want anyone in his house, especially not a reporter. But she’d come back like a wet, injured kitten and he’d had to let her stay. What was he supposed to do—turn her away when the bridges were closed? And besides, she was Ronnie. The girl wore her heart on her sleeve and she didn’t have a mean or deceptive bone in her body.
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