Addy could hear Jim's deep breathing, could feel the utter stillness. "You're taking your sister-in-law?"
"Yes, well—"
"It's all right, Jim." Addy walked farther away from Nick, knowing he was listening to her every word. "If you're trying to tell me that you and Carol are—are involved, I understand."
"I just didn't want you to think that I'd been leading you on and fooling around with Carol at the same time." Jim's voice sounded strained, pleading. "I guess I've always known that nothing would ever come of our friendship. And since Romero showed up… Well—I need someone, Addy, and so does Tiffany."
"Of course you do, and believe me, I understand. Good luck, Jim. I—I hope everything works out for you and Carol."
They said their goodbyes. Addy punched the off button. Nick came up behind her, leaning over to take the phone out of her hand.
"You didn't want Jim Hester, despite the fact that he's a nice guy. You wanted to be a mother to his daughter."
She would have preferred not to discuss that situation with Nick, even though it was obvious that he'd overheard every word of her conversation and had jumped to the correct conclusion. As foolish as the notion seemed, Addy couldn't help feeling like she'd been dumped. "I thought you didn't like Jim."
"I changed my mind about Hester. I wanted to dislike him, but I couldn't. He's all right, Addy, but he's not the man for you." Nick tossed the phone into a cushioned lounge chair.
Addy fiddled with the drawstring on her yellow walking shorts. "Let me get this straight. You've warned me off Brett Windsor because he's only interested in my money and you think Jim was the wrong man for me because all I wanted from that relationship was to be a mother to Tiffany."
"That about sums it up."
"I'm surprised you aren't telling me that you're the right man for me. Now would be the perfect time, wouldn't it?" Addy couldn't bring herself to face Nick. Somehow she knew he was smiling, that self-assured, macho smile.
"I am the right man for you, and we both know it."
"You're wrong, all wrong." She turned, forcing herself to look at him, determined to remain in control. "What you want is another conquest. You want—"
"I want you." Nick focused all his attention on Addy, his dark eyes reaching out, pulling her to him, mesmerizing her by their look of heated desire. "I don't want another woman, and I couldn't care less about Rusty's millions. All I want is you. Your body, your mind, your heart. Everything that makes you Addy."
When Nick reached out and took her hand, she jerked away from his touch as if he'd hurt her. "Don't do this to me. I can't handle it."
She ran from him, her bare feet racing over the warm flagstones. Nick didn't follow her immediately. Running his fingers through his thick black hair, he cursed himself for a fool. He couldn't seem to get it right with Addy. With other women he'd always been the smooth Romeo, who knew exactly what to say and do. With Addy it was different. She was different. The woman was driving him crazy. She wanted him to prove himself to her, and he had no earthly idea how to go about doing it.
He gave her five minutes alone—four minutes more than he wanted to give her. He found her in the den, staring out the window. She'd wrapped her arms around herself. Her shoulders drooped in defeat.
"Addy?"
Her body stiffened, but she didn't turn around or reply. He walked over to her. More than anything he wanted to pull her into his arms. He didn't dare. At this precise moment she'd fight him like a wildcat. Addy was a woman who needed persuasion, and he was damned and determined that he was going to be the man to persuade her.
"Come on and sit down," Nick said, his big hand hovering over her shoulder. It was all he could do to keep from touching her. "Why don't we just sit and talk for a while?"
"I don't want to talk to you." Addy kept her back to him. "I want you to leave me alone."
"Were you this stubborn as a little girl? If you were, Rusty must have had his hands full raising you."
Some of the tension drained from her body. It wasn't a visible thing, yet Nick sensed it. He lowered his right hand to her shoulder, making sure his touch was light and non-threatening.
Addy felt the warmth of his touch through her blouse. His hand was big and hard and strong, yet his grip on her shoulder was unbearably tender. Hating herself for enjoying the feel of his hand on her body, she refused to look at him. She didn't trust herself to remain in control if his eyes were still filled with desire.
"I'll never lie to you." Nick balanced his cane against the wall, then placed his left hand on her other shoulder, turning her around toward him. "I'm not looking for love and marriage and I'm not making you any forever-after promises."
Addy glanced down at the Sarouk rug beneath her bare feet. Her vision focused on the intricate gold, rust and blue pattern. "What—what can you give me, Nick, in return for my blind faith in you?"
He reached out, slipping his fist beneath Addy's chin. "I can give you passion and fulfillment. I can make you glad that you're a woman."
She was tempted, so very tempted. But men said whatever they thought necessary to get what they wanted. They sought out your weaknesses and used them against you. Men did that sort of thing. Gerald had.
He tilted her chin upward, forcing her to face him. Her eyes widened with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Every word he said was true, but how could he make her believe him? "Addy?"
"I'm not going to sleep with you, so you might as well give up on me. I—I don't like sex, and I refuse to become one more in a long line of women who've shared your bed."
Releasing her chin, Nick stepped away from her, but didn't break eye contact. "You didn't like sex with Gerald. That doesn't mean you won't like sex with me."
"You are, without a doubt, the most egotistical man I've ever known. I'm no good at sex, and not even a Latin stud like you can change what's lacking in me. I'd disappoint you, Nick, so why don't you stop pursuing me and put us both out of our misery?"
"The only thing that's going to put us out of our misery is making love. I've just got to figure out a way to prove myself to you." Walking over to the stereo unit hidden inside the huge oak cupboard, Nick checked through Addy's tape and disk collection. "Don't you have anything except classical and semi-classical stuff?" He held up a tape. "Well, what have we here? It's not exactly Ricky Van Shelton, but it's not Beethoven either."
Addy couldn't stop looking at him, puzzled by the sudden change in his conversation from something extremely personal to something totally insignificant. What was he trying to do, throw her off guard?
Nick inserted the tape in the player, then leaning heavily on his cane, walked over and sat down on the sofa, tossing several pillows onto a nearby round table. Suddenly the sound of soft, romantic music permeated the room. The mixed voices of men and women sang "Close to You." Nick patted the sofa. "Come sit down and we'll talk."
Addy gave him a wary stare. "I don't trust you."
"Yes, you do. It's yourself you don't trust."
Addy moved toward Nick, slowly, cautiously, intent on proving him wrong. A show of bravado was called for here. She wasn't a silly young woman eager to believe a man's sweet lies. She was a woman who'd gone through her trial of fire, and she could handle anything, including the likes of Nick Romero.
Addy sat down, making sure she was as far from Nick as she could possibly get while sharing the same small sofa with him. "I don't want to talk about sex."
"Fine. Let's talk about Addy McConnell when she was a little girl." Nick scooted several inches toward her, then propped his big feet on a tiny needlepoint footstool. "What did you do for fun?"
"I—I took riding lessons, swimming lessons, tennis lessons, piano lessons—"
"Whoa, Red! I asked what you did for fun. Lessons aren't fun."
"I enjoyed my lessons, even if there were never any other children around … only my bodyguards." Addy shifted nervously when Nick draped his arm across the back of the sofa.
An entirely instrume
ntal rendition of the "Gone with the Wind" theme filled the room. Addy sighed. Nick smiled.
"You really were a poor little rich girl, weren't you? An overprotected, pampered Southern belle in a golden cage. Didn't you ever spend any time with other kids?"
"No. Only when Janice was allowed to visit and when Daddy gave me my yearly birthday party." Addy remembered those precious visits with Janice, who had become her dearest friend—her only friend. And the parties had been like dreams fulfilled when the children of M.A.C. employees were brought out to the mansion to celebrate her birthday.
"What about school?" Nick inched closer to Addy. She didn't seem to notice.
"I had private tutors. Public school was never considered, and Daddy thought private schools weren't safe."
"Are you saying that you never did anything just for fun? Spontaneous things? Crazy things?"
"Everything I did had to be supervised, otherwise it was unsafe. I—I did have privacy in my room. I learned to escape into books. They became my friends." It had been in those books that she had become a part of the fantasies, the romantic legends, the tales of knights and their ladies. As a child she had first read of Charlemagne and his twelve paladins—the douze pairs who were his bodyguards and companions.
When Nick eased his arm around her shoulders, she started to pull away, but realized that she didn't want to leave the warm comfort of his embrace.
"There was a world of difference in our childhoods. Nobody ever watched over me. The only person who even cared where I was or what I was doing was my grandmother. My father was a field hand who was either working or boozing it up. He finally drank himself to death." Nick tightened his hold on Addy when she snuggled against him, bending her knees as she lifted her feet onto the sofa.
"What about your mother?" Addy asked.
"My mother." Nick grunted. How could he possibly explain a woman like Kitty Romero to Addy? "My mother liked men. All men. While my father drank, she whored around. She left us, my brother Miguel and me, when I was ten."
"Oh, Nick, I know how difficult it is to lose a mother."
"Red, losing my mother was a godsend. She was nothing but white trash. My grandmother was the only mother we ever really knew. Kitty did us a big favor by leaving."
Addy could hear the pain in Nick's voice, the anger he tried so hard to deny. When she laid her head on his shoulder, she felt him stiffen and then relax. "My mother committed suicide when I was ten. She—she had a nervous breakdown after Donnie … when Donnie was murdered."
"I didn't intend for us to talk about gloomy subjects." He loved the feel of her so close to him, her head resting against him, her whole body snuggling to him with such trust.
"Then maybe we shouldn't talk about our childhoods."
"Mine wasn't all bad," he said, reaching down to take her hand in his, holding it palm up. "Miguel and I were close, and we had a lot of fun together. He was five years older, but he never tried to brush me off so he could run with the older guys. He took me everywhere with him." Suddenly, Nick's whole body tightened, his face rigid. "Damn!"
"What's wrong?" She gazed up into his face and almost cried at the sorrow she saw in his dark eyes.
"I can't seem to steer clear of gloom and doom." When she stared at him questioningly, he said, "Miguel was killed in an oil rig accident when I was seventeen. God, I thought I'd die when we lost him!"
"He—Miguel was married to Dina."
"Yeah." Nick squeezed her hand, then released it and withdrew his arm from around her shoulders. He looked at her, sensing the waves of sympathy flowing from her, washing over him. He grabbed her face in his big hands, cradling her gently. "Tell me about your birthday parties, Red. I never had a birthday party in my whole life."
Instantly Addy realized that he didn't want to talk about Miguel and Dina and his relationship with them. Addy smiled at Nick. "Oh, my birthday parties were grand affairs. We had them at Elm Hill before Mama died, and then at Daddy's new house afterward. All of M.A.C.'s employees' children came. It was always a catered affair with a huge cake, ice sculptures that held the ice cream and thousands of helium balloons released into the air. And entertainment. A pony ride, a clown, and a band when I got older." Tears gathered in her eyes. She willed them away. She didn't cry. Not ever. Not anymore. "I always loved my birthdays. It was the only time I never felt—confined."
"I got invited to a birthday party once. One of the kids at school. I don't think I ever envied another kid so much in all my life." Nick ran his hands down Addy's neck, across her shoulders, and down her arms. He stopped at her waist. "It was no big production like your parties. Just cake and ice cream. A few drooping balloons. But what I remember were the presents. All that bright wrapping paper and ribbons and all those gifts." He pulled Addy toward him. She went willingly. "I was lucky if I got one present at Christmas, and never on my birthday. Grandma would always remember. When I was little she'd give me a dime to go to the store for ice cream. We were so damned poor."
"My father grew up poor, too." Addy could not resist the hunger in Nick's eyes. "You and Daddy really do have a great deal in common, don't you?"
"Yeah, in more ways than you'd ever imagine." Nick lowered his head, his lips brushing hers. "We both care a hell of a lot about you."
Being kissed by Nick Romero was very much like being burned by a painless fire, a fire that consumed and left you hot but unharmed. His lips were warm and damp and demanding. He nibbled, he teased, then parried before thrusting. She groaned into his open mouth, accepting the invasion of his tongue, feeling herself slowly but surely unraveling from within. Spiraling tension built low in her stomach, the pressure mounting as it invaded the very core of her. Her nipples tightened. Her small breasts suddenly felt very heavy.
She clung to him, not wanting these strange but wonderful new feelings to end. Nick wasn't just her bodyguard. He wasn't just some Latin lover out to score. He was a man who'd known his share of pain. A man whose childhood still tormented him as Addy's did her. Poverty and neglect had soiled the pure happiness of his boyhood. Enviable wealth and constant protection had taken the joy from her girlhood.
Nick deepened the kisses, devouring Addy with his passion. He gave his hands free rein, allowing them to roam over Addy's body at will. She was willowy thin and so delicately made that he could easily break her in two with his hands. He covered one breast with his palm, savoring the feel of her jutting nipple against his rough flesh. He wanted this woman—wanted her in a way he didn't understand. She was more than a body, more than the means of physical release. He wanted to absorb her, to bring her to him and make her his.
Nick lifted Addy onto his lap. She felt the hard, pressing throb of his arousal against her bottom. Her mind screamed that it was time to run. Her love-starved body silenced her mind by squirming against Nick while she thrust her tongue out to meet his.
He knew if he didn't stop now, it would be too late. Addy was responding to him, wild and hot and wanting. But she wasn't ready for him. He hadn't proven himself to her. When he took her, he wanted her to know what she was doing, to be sure of him and of herself. He wanted her to accept the fact that they were destined to become lovers, but he didn't dare risk letting her think there could ever be more to their mating. Addy had to come to him fully prepared to accept a short-term relationship.
He slowed the kiss, soothing her body with gently caressing strokes. Releasing her mouth, he leaned his forehead against hers. "I love the taste of you, Addy, and the feel of you. You've gotten me so excited I'm hurting."
"Nick?" She spoke in a hushed whimper, her arms still draped around him, her body still seeking closer contact with his.
He patted her face, tenderly, softly. "It's going to happen for us, but only when you're ready."
Pulling away, Addy stared at him. Her eyes were wide and round, her mouth open on a sigh. "You—you really do want me, don't you?"
"More than I've ever wanted another woman."
She slipped off his lap, then st
ood. Gazing down at him, she reached out with trembling fingers, then jerked her hand back before looking directly into his desire-filled eyes. "I want to believe you… I want to—"
"And you will, when I've proven myself to you."
"Nick?"
"When there are no more doubts in your mind or your heart, then you'll come to me and I'll give you more pleasure than you could ever imagine." He saw the startled look cross her face, the sweet, pink flush that stained her cheeks. "Don't worry about what happened in the past. You aren't frigid or inadequate in any way. When you decide the time is right, I'll show you just how good at sex you can be."
Addy couldn't breathe. Her lungs refused to function, so heavy was the weight of emotions pressing down on her. Nick's words set off an explosion of sensations inside her, frightening her into action. Turning from him she fled, running out into the hall.
Nick sat on the sofa, his body aching with unfulfilled desire. With any other woman, he'd have taken her body, given her satisfaction and felt only mild affection for her the following day. Addy McConnell was different. He knew that once he'd experienced the ecstasy of being buried deep inside her hot, sweet depths, neither of them would ever be the same again.
Damn, how had this happened? How had he allowed himself to get so emotionally involved?
* * *
Addy stood in the foyer, gripping the staircase banister with her damp hands. She could hear her heart beating, drumming loudly in her ears. Her mind reeled from the sure knowledge that she had come close, very close to succumbing to Nick Romero's dangerous charm. Perspiration moistened her aroused body.
He—not she—had called a halt to the passion that had consumed them both. He could have taken advantage of her, but he hadn't. That proved something, didn't it? Wasn't his consideration of her feelings a sign that she could trust him?
Slumping down on the bottom step, Addy propped her elbows on her knees and cradled her chin and cheeks in her hands. Dear Lord, how had her life gotten so far off course? How had she, in one week's time, gone from a sensible, independent woman in control of her own life to a romantic fool bound to an irresistible man, dependent upon him for protection and yearning for him to give her love?
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