“Hey, you’re representing all of us in a way. All I ask is that you try not to be photographed in jeans that are over four years old, okay? Have a little pride.”
“Dinner’s ready, everyone!” My mother called to us from the doorway to the kitchen. “Per Honey’s request, we’re eating on the patio. Grab your drinks, and let’s go outside.”
It was a perfect early summer day in Maine, and although the sunshine had been warm all day, the breeze that blew over the flagstone deck was cool and refreshing. I found a seat at the long wooden table, jostling for space between my father and Lisel. My mom and Mrs. Muller were the last to join us.
“Who miscounted?” From his position at the head of the table, Handsome frowned and gazed around at the place settings. “We seem to have one extra spot. Are we missing anyone?”
“It must be for Jeremiah,” Bria joked, referencing her childhood imaginary friend. “Don’t worry, Handsome, he doesn’t eat much.”
“But I do.” The deep voice came from the open doorway behind me, and I spun in surprise, my mouth dropping open as Nicky strolled out. “Thanks for saving me a seat, Aunt Maggie. Happy birthday.”
He paused briefly next to Honey’s chair, wrapping her in a quick, warm hug. The room exploded in voices, most of them aimed my way.
“Did you know he was coming?” Lisel whispered, her eyes wide.
I shook my head. I felt a little dizzy, as though I’d dropped into an alternate universe of the unexpected. Nicky was heading toward me, his eyes smiling and watchful. When he reached my place, he leaned over to press a kiss to my cheek.
“Hi, Ky. Surprised?”
“Just slightly.” I gripped my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking. “What—when did this happen? How long have you been here? How long can you stay?”
“Here.” My father stood up and slid over to the empty chair. “Nicky, you can sit next to Kyra. Sounds like you have some catching up to do with my daughter.”
“Thank you, sir.” Nicky flashed my dad a grin before he pulled out the chair and sat down. “I think I’d better make it good.”
“Let’s start passing the food before it gets cold,” my mother interrupted. “Nicky, you can do your explaining while we eat.”
“I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to pull it off—getting over here.” Nicky helped himself to potato salad. “I had a gap in my schedule, but there was a chance I was going to have to take an engagement on behalf of my sister. While I was waiting to see how that ended up, your grandfather emailed and invited me to your grandmother’s birthday dinner. I didn’t tell you, Ky, because if it didn’t work out, I didn’t want to disappoint you.” He slid a portion of barbecued ribs onto his plate. “I’m in Maine until Tuesday afternoon, then I have to fly back.”
“And he’s staying here, with us,” Honey added. “It’s more private than a hotel. The press can’t come past the gates.”
“Oooooh.” Bria wagged her eyebrows. “Sounds romantic.”
“Shut up, Bree.” I glared her way, and Nicky laughed.
“Bria? Is that really you? Last time I saw you, I’m pretty sure you were begging me to give you a piggyback ride.”
My sister giggled. “Sounds about right. And hey, you know, if you’re game, I’d be more than happy to let you deliver on that ride now.”
“No.” I nudged at her foot under the table. “Behave yourself, Bria. Don’t make Nicky sorry he came all this way for Honey’s birthday dinner.”
“Kyra, I hate to break it to you, sis, but I don’t think he flew across the ocean to say happy birthday to Honey.” Lisel winked at me before shifting to respond to our grandfather, who was asking her a question.
“She’s right, you know.” Nicky reached for me under the table, taking one of my hands in his. “I didn’t fly over for dinner. Or for Honey. Or even for birthday cake, which I saw as I came through the kitchen—and it looks amazing.” He threaded his fingers through mine. “I came to see you. And only you.”
A joy I hadn’t felt in many weeks bubbled up in my chest, and I let myself look into Nicky’s eyes. The steady promise and the warmth I saw there erased all of the stress and embarrassment of the past month.
I wanted to answer with some pithy quip, but all I could manage was a smile and two heartfelt words.
“I’m glad.”
“WHAT KIND OF FLOWER IS that?”
I craned my head to follow the direction Nicky was pointing, squinting against the bright sunlight flooding over us. We were lying on a quilt in the middle of my grandmother’s flower garden, and I’d been drowsing, nearly dozing, before Nicky spoke.
“Oh. The yellow one?” I rolled over onto my stomach, propping myself on my elbows. “That’s Cypripedium parviflorum. Variety makasin. More commonly known as lady’s slipper. It’s a type of orchid.”
“Ah. And here all I was thinking was that it was pretty and it smelled nice. Now the science geek in me feels totally inadequate.”
I snickered. “The science geek. You, my friend, are the furthest from a science geek that I can imagine.”
“Hey! Are you calling me stupid?” Nicky scowled at me.
“Never.” I leaned sideways to kiss his cheek, just because he was here next to me and I could do it. “You’re very intelligent and knowledgeable about many things. Including many science things. But you’re not a geek. You’re a science . . .” I considered briefly. “A science hunk. How about that?”
“Is it a good thing?” He reached over to brush the curls away from my face.
“It is. A little dated, maybe . . . it’s a word my mother uses a lot. She says when she first saw my dad at their freshman orientation in college, she wanted to talk to him because he was a real hunk.”
“It must be a strictly US-based colloquialism. Is it short for something?”
“I think . . .” I cast up my eyes. “It’s probably short for ‘hunk of manly goodness’. How’s that?”
“Depends. Did you just make it up this minute?” Nicky narrowed his gaze.
“I did.” I grinned, and Nicky poked me in the ribs, sending me into peals of giggles. “But you should be flattered, because my invention was totally inspired by you, my sweet hunk of manly goodness. Oh, correction. My sweet science hunk of manly goodness.”
“Hmm.” He rested his chin in his hand. “Am I, then?”
“A sweet science hunk of manly goodness? Absolutely.”
“No. Yours?”
My heart flutters, which had been almost constant since Nicky had surprised me two days before, went into overdrive. I dropped down and rolled to my back again, so that I could see his face more clearly.
“You are. If you want to be, that is.” I traced the line of his jaw. “Do you?”
He stared at me, heat filling his eyes. “Yeah, I do.” Shifting, he caught my hand and pressed his lips into the palm. “If you’ll be my . . .” He twisted his mouth a bit in an exaggerated pose of deep consideration. “My sexy goddess of womanly virtue. How’s that?”
I pretended to pout. “It doesn’t say anything about my intelligence. And virtue makes it sounds like I’m jealously guarding my virginity, which—” I cleared my throat. “Well, not that you’re asking, but that ship has sailed.”
“True. Okay, let me think about it. How about this: my clever goddess of womanly sexiness.”
I nodded. “I like that. But it’s kind of a mouthful. It doesn’t roll off the tongue the way my science hunk does.”
“You’re right. I’ll just have to say you’re my Ky, and you’ll know that all the other stuff—the intelligence, the goddess, the sexiness—it’s all implied in those two syllables.”
Happiness so deep and rich that it almost choked me swept over my heart. These last few days with Nicky . . . I couldn’t think of any time in my life that I’d been more content or more filled with hope. We hadn’t done anything exciting, aside from afternoons swimming in the estate pool, walks in the orchards that surrounded the house and times like this, lo
unging in the garden. But it was enough, because we were together, and the world hadn’t intruded.
At my grandparents’ insistence, I’d been staying here at their home, too. It made sense; I didn’t have to drive back and forth, and it gave Nicky and me more time together. Nicky had insisted that I put my phone away in a drawer and that we both stayed away from the television and any social media, so that nothing would disturb us. I didn’t mind that at all, except that now and then, I wondered what the world was saying.
I’d asked Nicky if the media had realized he was flying over here. He’d given me an enigmatic shrug and replied, “They always know what’s going on.”
I didn’t push him beyond that, mostly because I didn’t want to know. I was going to Scarlett O’Hara this whole thing; I’d think about it next week, once Nicky was gone again.
“I don’t want to leave.” As though he’d read my mind, he sighed the words, wrapping loose strands of my hair around one of his fingers.
“The garden, you mean?” I wasn’t being obtuse; I knew what he was saying. But I still wanted to hear the words.
“This garden, yes. This house. But mostly, you.” He stretched out his arms and lay flat, his cheek against the quilt. “I don’t think I’ve felt this safe and normal since the last summer I spent in Florida, at Gram’s.”
“It’s been a wonderful few days.” I skimmed my hand up his arm. The light blue T-shirt he was wearing didn’t do anything to disguise the hills and valleys of muscle that covered his shoulders and back. He was so tempting lying there next to me, his eyes closed and his dark blond hair mussed by the breeze.
We were alone here. Honey and Handsome had left for the airport early this morning, heading back to Florida, where they would enjoy the beach and chaperone Bria, who had a lifeguarding job there for the summer. Mrs. Muller had been by earlier today to make sure we had enough food and to close up the parts of the house that would remain unused until my grandparents returned for Thanksgiving.
But she’d left just after lunch. Nicky’s policeman was staying in one of the small guesthouses, here in case we needed him but otherwise staying out of our way. There wasn’t another soul around for miles, and everything was silent except for the trilling of the birds.
We’d been slightly cautious, just a little tentative since Nicky had been here. He’d kissed me good morning and good night, and he held my hand while we walked. We stopped under trees in the orchard for long, desire-drunk kisses. While we watched movies at night, Nicky wrapped one arm around me and held me close. But we hadn’t gone any further. I never would have even considered sleeping in his room while Honey and Handsome were in the house. I didn’t think they had delusions about my sex life, but I respected them both too much to push those boundaries.
But now . . . we were alone. The sun was hot on us, and I’d been dying by degrees to touch Nicky . . . to feel his hands on me. With fingers that were only a tiny bit hesitant, I ran my hand down his spine, stopping at the hem of his shirt. I paused for a beat and then slid underneath, smoothing my touch over warm, solid skin and muscle.
Nicky didn’t move, but his breathing hitched slightly. I explored him, learning the scape of his body, thrilling to the feel of him.
“Ky.” He breathed my name on a sigh. “My Ky.”
“Hmmmm.” Emboldened, I dropped my lips to the expanse of skin revealed between his pushed-up shirt and the waistband of his shorts. Closing my eyes, I pressed tiny kisses to his spine, to the valley on either side and then upward, nudging the cotton of his tee out of the way as I went.
“Kyra.” Nicky groaned, turning over to his back and reaching for me at the same time. “God, that feels good.”
“You taste good.” I buried my face in his neck. “And mmmmmm, you smell good, too.”
He pulled me up so that I was sprawled across his chest. “I want to taste you, too.” His fingers combed through my hair at the back of my head as he gently forced my head down to kiss my lips.
Need surged within me, and I took control of the kiss, angling my head to deepen our connection. I opened my mouth so that his tongue could find mine, stroking and exploring.
His other hand, the one that wasn’t buried in my hair, feathered down my back to rest on my ass. Beneath me, I felt his desire for me, a hard ridge against my hip.
I wanted to sit up, undress both of us and slide onto him, inch by intoxicating inch. But something, some unlikely caution, held me back. I couldn’t say why, but I wasn’t ready to take that step, not when everything still felt unsettled. I was sure about Nicky. My feelings for him were strong and true, and I believed him when he said he wanted me, too.
But beyond that, nothing was certain—from when we’d see each other again to where either of us saw this going in the long-term. That was why I couldn’t take that last step. Not yet.
Being smart and sensible, though, didn’t mean that all pleasure was out of the question. Drawing up both of my legs, I bent my knees and pushed into a sitting position, straddling Nicky’s hips.
He gazed up at me, his eyes hazy and hooded. His lips were slightly parted, and his chest rose and fell rapidly.
“God, Ky. You’re beautiful. Breathtaking.” His hands bracketed my hips, and the way he looked at me, the way he held me—I felt like what he said. Beautiful. Wanted.
Crossing my arms over my stomach, I grasped my shirt and stripped it off, tossing it to the side of the quilt. Nicky’s eyes flared as he lifted his hands to palm my breasts over the thin lace of my bra. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, and I hissed in a breath as both rosy tips tightened at his touch.
“Kyra. I want to put my mouth on you.” He sat up, wrapping his arms around me, and I hummed a little as my center ground into him. His fingers lowered between us, curling over the edge of the bra’s cup and pushing my boobs into prominence. Bending his head, he drew the nipple between his lips.
I dropped my head, arching my back to give him better access. The world spun around us, and everything vanished except Nicky and me and this exploding passion between us.
“Sir!”
I jerked back out of instinct, covering myself with both arms. Nicky immediately pulled me closer, protecting me from being seen. I ducked my head into his shoulder.
“What’s the matter, Tom?” His voice was terse and strained.
“Sir, we have a little bit of a situation. It’s come to my attention that someone—ah, we assume media presence—is within the vicinity and has rigged something so that they can see into the garden. I’m very sorry to interrupt, sir, but I think you might want to consider . . . moving inside.”
“Fuck.” Nicky ground out the word, and I felt his arms tense. “Do you know what they got? How long have they been there?”
“Not sure at the moment, sir. We’re investigating and doing what we can to remove them, but as they are not on private property, there’s a limit to what we can do.”
“Of course.” Nicky swallowed, and his hand smoothed over my hair. “Ky, can you reach your shirt to put it on?”
I nodded, my head rubbing against him. I wasn’t ready to lift up my face yet.
“All right, then. Tom, we’ll be inside in a moment.”
“Of course, sir. Is there anything I can do to—”
“No, just some privacy, thanks.” After we heard the snick of the door closing, Nicky added, “But apparently privacy is too fucking much to ask for.”
I drew in a deep shaking breath. The mood of the afternoon was shattered, and suddenly, I didn’t feel safe and happy anymore.
“I’m sorry, Ky.” Nicky repeated the words for the fourth time since we’d come inside. He was slumped in Honey’s favorite wing chair, his phone in his hands, as I lay on the sofa, watching him in silence.
“You didn’t do this, Nicky. And there was no way you could’ve anticipated it. So please stop beating yourself up.” I rested my chin on my bent arm. “You’re many wonderful things, Nicholas Windsor, but omniscient is not one of them. I’m okay wi
th that.”
He turned eyes to me that were filled with a miserable mix of guilt and anger, though I knew neither were directed at me.
“The thing is, Ky, I did know . . . something. The other day when we snuck out to see your project plots—someone saw us, and the pictures were published. The reporters knew I was here. And I knew that they did. But I managed to convince myself that as long as we stayed on your grandparents’ property, we’d be all right. I was reckless and stupid.”
I pushed myself to sit up, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell me? About the pictures, I mean?”
He pushed one hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. “I didn’t want to ruin our time together. I was going to tell you before I left, so that you wouldn’t be blind-sided, but I didn’t think there was any good reason to make you worry when we were still together here. I’m sorry. I was trying to do the right thing, but apparently, I’m incapable of figuring out what that is anymore.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You did do the right thing. I had a beautiful couple of days of relaxation, where I didn’t think about the outside world at all. I needed that, Nicky. I needed the break, and you gave it to me. The truth is that I’m not an idiot. I knew, in the back of my mind, that it was probably pretty likely someone had figured out you were here. I chose not to think about it while we were alone together.”
He smiled for the first time since Tom had interrupted us in the garden. “I guess that makes us both ostriches, doesn’t it? Willing to bury our heads in the sand for the sake of a little peace.”
“Well . . .” I uncurled my legs and rose from the sofa, advancing on Nicky where he sat. “If I’m going to be an ostrich, I can’t think of anyone I’d like to be in the sand with other than you.” Bracing my hands on either arm of the chair, I leaned over to brush a kiss over his lips.
“Funny, that’s exactly how I feel about you.” Nicky slid his arms around my middle and tugged me down to sit on his lap. “You know, here inside the house, no one can see anything. We could pick up where we left off, in the garden.”
The Anti-Cinderella Page 12