Memories: A Husband to RememberNew Year's Daddy (Hqn)

by Jackson, Lisa

  “Me?” He pointed a finger at his chest. “Do anything to upset my wife? Never. Just the same, you owe me one.” He rapped his knuckles on the edge of her desk and walked toward the reception area.

  Nikki blew out a sigh of relief, ruffling her bangs in the process. It was good to finally be alone, though her peace lasted less then forty-five minutes, when Connie returned bearing a steaming cup of coffee and a toasted bagel.

  “Fresh off the cart,” she said, sliding the bagel, napkin, coffee and small container of cream onto a stack of Nikki’s mail.

  “You’re a lifesaver.” Nikki poured in the cream and sipped from the hot coffee.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re back. Things have been dull with a capital D around here since you’ve been gone.” A set of slim gold bracelets jangled as she motioned toward Frank Pianzani’s glassed-in office. “Worse than ever. Frank seems to think the only stories I can handle all have to do with triplets being born or teachers being fired. Heavy stuff.” She winked lashes thick with mascara. “You’d think someone would tell that man we’re closing in on the twenty-first century.”

  “I know just the woman to do it,” Nikki said pointedly.

  “Moi?” Connie pointed a red-tipped nail at her sternum and shook her head. “And chance losing my job? Uh-uh. I’ll leave all that brave and noble business to someone else. I’m just a working girl.”

  “Sure,” Nikki said as Connie strolled back to her desk.

  She finished her bagel, dusted her fingers and sipped coffee while continuing to scan her notes, read her mail, skim the last few issues of the Observer and generally catch up with the rest of the staff. Time still seemed out of sync for her, and whether from jet lag, her amnesia or her stormy relationship with Trent, she couldn’t concentrate fully on her work. Relationship. Ha! What she shared with Trent was no more than cold lies and hot sex.

  That thought turned her stomach sour, and she tossed back the rest of her coffee, crumpling the cup and casting it into the wastebasket as she tore open an envelope. But work didn’t come easily. She wasn’t used to the noise and activity of the office. Secretaries clicked by in high heels, mail carriers pushed carts along the aisles between the cubicles housing individual desks, phones jangled, conversation wafted past soundproof barriers, and the fluorescent lights overhead hummed while offering a surreal light to the inner workings of the Observer.

  She couldn’t seem to dislodge Trent from her mind. His face swam behind her eyelids and his vague accusations against Senator Crowley kept playing back in Nikki’s head like a record that was stuck. She twirled a pencil between her fingers and wondered about the connection between Crowley and Trent. Why was Trent so hell-bent to see Crowley destroyed?

  Scratching the back of her head with the eraser end of the pencil, Nikki pulled up the files of stories she was working on before she left for Salvaje. Most of her work was finished and printed: old news. Only a few articles and interviews hadn’t been completed, but not one of the articles had anything to do with politics or Diamond Jim Crowley. As she read over her work, trying to feel some connection to this job, she experienced an undercurrent of dissatisfaction, solidifying her earlier guess that she’d been unhappy here at the Observer.

  Max had written an article on Senator Crowley a few weeks back, but the piece read more like a campaign advertisement than a piece of cutting-edge journalism. It was little more than a reminder that James Thaddeus Crowley was working hard in Washington, D.C., for the people in Washington state. For jobs. For the economy. For the environment. For everyone. Nikki’s stomach roiled. Something stunk to the very gates of heaven. She was sure of it, and in a flash of memory she recalled that she had planned an exposé of Crowley, there was something…some scandal he had covered up. What was it? She worried her lip between her teeth and tried to concentrate, but other than her image of the cold man with the cane in the photography shop in Salvaje, she remembered nothing. Trent had said something about bribery. Think, Nikki, think!

  Nothing came. Not one measly thought.

  “Terrific,” she growled in disgust and let out a perturbed sigh. Disgusted with her lack of memory, she rifled through the new stories she’d been given: an update on new bike paths near Lake Washington, an in-depth article on the new director of the symphony, a story on the import/export business in Seattle, with a note that she could use her own father as one of her sources as he owned one of the largest import/export houses on the Sound.

  Nothing of any substance. No investigative journalism. No dirt. Not one thing that really mattered.

  No wonder she’d been after Crowley. Tapping her pencil on her desk, she squinted at her computer monitor. But what was Trent’s connection to the senator? He’d been in Salvaje, dogging Diamond Jim, just as she had. He’d been worried enough to pretend to be married to her. But worried about her safety? Or worried about what she might print about the senator? What was his ax to grind? She didn’t know, she thought, leaning back in her chair and frowning at the screen, but she damned well planned to find out!

  *

  “Not really married!” Connie’s jaw nearly dropped into her spinach salad. “But—you called. Said so.” Her face crumpled into a mask of confusion and a wounded shadow crossed her eyes as she stared at Nikki.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know myself.” While picking at her crab Louie, Nikki confided in Connie, leaving out nothing save the very painful fact that she was falling in love with the very man who had started this phony charade in the first place. She even told her friend about her amnesia and the fact that she could remember little.

  “You’re kidding!” Connie whispered in the crowded restaurant. She glanced over her shoulder as if she expected to find, in the company of reporters, stockbrokers, secretaries and junior executives, a gun-toting mob hit man sitting in a caned-back chair, huddled over a plate of fettuccine, his gun and silencer visible when his jacket slid open as he reached for the garlic bread.

  “Look, it’s not that bad.”

  “Not that bad, are you out of your ever lovin’ mind?” Connie hissed.

  Nikki pronged a slice of egg with her fork.

  “You fall or are shoved off a cliff, barely escape with your life, can’t remember a damned thing, and your rescuer, nearly a total stranger who just happens to be on an island few people have ever heard of, claims you’re married to him. Later, after you tell your family and friends that you’re married, he admits it was all a lie. And why? To keep you safe? I think I’d take my chances with a barracuda.”

  “But you know him,” Nikki said, feeling the unlikely urge to defend Trent. Rolling an olive over a bed of lettuce, she tried to explain. “Look, I know it sounds bad—”

  “Bad isn’t strong enough. Fantastic is more like it. Unbelievable is damned close, or downright deceitful is even better yet. God, the nerve of the guy. And, for the record, I don’t know him. Yes, I met him when I had that auto claim. Someone stole my BMW, remember? The one my folks gave me when I graduated from college.” She munched on some lettuce. “Did I tell you it was stolen by a guy who was involved with a ring of car thieves? Trent, working for my insurance company, exposed the entire operation.”

  “So he’s not all bad.”

  “Few people are. And he’s definitely not hard on the eyes. But I don’t trust a liar, Nikki, and neither should you. This guy lied to you. In a major way. If you ask me he should be strung up by his…well, his hamstrings or worse!” She tore off a piece of bread and leaned across the table. “So tell me, when you thought you were married to him—”

  Here it comes! Nikki picked up her water glass and swallowed against a dry throat.

  “What did you do… Well, you were supposed to be on your honeymoon. How’d you handle all that?”

  Nikki nearly choked, but this time the lie—the half truth, really—rolled easily off her tongue. “I was hurt. My face, my ankle, my whole body. Trent acted as if my injuries were reason enough not to get too involved. Besides, you should have seen
me. I wish I had pictures. My face was so ugly, no man would be interested.”

  Connie lifted a skeptical brow, but didn’t argue, and Nikki felt like a heel. Why couldn’t she explain everything? Because the truth of the matter was she’d fallen for the louse.

  “That’s why I can’t accept the wedding gift,” she added as she pushed her half-eaten salad aside. “It’s beautiful, but I’m not married.”

  Connie managed a smile. “Keep it,” she said. “It was worth hearing all about this.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Consider it an early birthday present.”

  “My birthday’s in May.”

  “A late one, then.”

  They argued, and finally Nikki gave in, agreeing to buy lunch in partial trade, just to keep Connie happy.

  “Now, about that missing memory of yours. Maybe I can fill in a few blanks,” Connie said. “You were really unhappy before you left and you were on this…vendetta, I guess you’d call it, against Senator Crowley. You wanted to do an exposé on the man, and Frank refused to let you. Even when Peggy went to bat for you, he insisted that Max or John be given the story, and we all know that Max thinks Diamond Jim can walk on water. When Peggy insisted that you be given a fair chance, Frank put his foot down. The quote went something like, ‘Men just have a clearer insight into matters political.’ You know, something pompous and asinine and way off base. It goes without saying that it caused your blood to boil.” Connie cast Nikki a sly smile. “I think you were working on the story, anyway. You must’ve been if you found Crowley in Salvaje. What the devil was he doing down there?”

  “I wish I knew,” Nikki said as the waiter slipped their bill onto the table. She picked up the receipt, determined to find out everything she could about Senator James Crowley, as well as Trent McKenzie.

  *

  By late afternoon, the drizzle had disappeared. Sun began to dry the wet pavement, leaving puddles only in the deepest cracks and holes of the sidewalks and streets.

  Nikki walked through the revolving door and took in great lungfuls of fresh air from the bay. The sky was still overcast, but a few rays of sunshine pierced through the clouds to sparkle on the concrete.

  Tucking her umbrella under her arm, Nikki spied Trent, hips resting on the fender of his Jeep, arms folded over his chest. He was double-parked in an alley, but didn’t seem the least concerned about a ticket. He lifted a hand when he saw her and she couldn’t help the stupid little skip of her heartbeat at the sight of him. As if they truly were newlyweds. What a joke! When was this hoax going to end? Wrapping her arms close around her, as if she could guard her wayward heart, she sidestepped the deepest puddles.

  He grinned at the sight of her, that sexy slash of white she found so unnerving. “Found your car.”

  “You did? At the airport?”

  “Right where you left it.”

  She climbed into his rig, as if she truly belonged there, and the scents of leather and oil seemed suddenly familiar. This was getting dangerous. Though she was always a little unsettled by him, there was something intimate and secure in being with him.

  He adjusted the seat, started the engine, flipped on his blinker and merged with southbound traffic, skirting the Sound.

  True to his word, he drove her directly to one of the parking lots near the airport where her little Dodge ragtop was wedged between a Toyota wagon and a Cadillac.

  “How’d you find this?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Professional secret.”

  “Give me a break.” She opened the passenger door of the Jeep but before she could step out, his hand surrounded her wrist. “I’ll meet you at your apartment later,” he said, and she felt her pulse jump a bit.

  “I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”

  “Got to keep up appearances, don’t we?”

  “For whom?” A part of her was anxious to be alone with him, to continue their little lie—make that big lie—to be with him in the apartment, to sit in front of the fire with a glass of wine, to kiss and hold him and touch every inch of him, and yet she knew that the longer she put off the inevitable, the more time she wasted pretending they were in love, the harder their eventual breakup would be. She needed to protect her heart.

  He rounded the Jeep’s hood and stood next to her as she forced her key into the compact’s lock.

  “Don’t,” she warned before he laid one finger on her.

  “Nikki—” He tried to touch her, but she drew away.

  “I really can’t go on living this lie,” she said, her voice hitching a little. Oh, Lord, she wasn’t going to break down now, was she? She jammed the key harder into the lock and twisted.

  “You have to.”

  She stiffened.

  “For your safety.”

  That was too much. Whirling to face him, she left her keys dangling from the lock. “Oh, for crying out loud! Let’s not get into this again. You know where I live, where I work, all about my parents, family, even my ex-boyfriend, for God’s sake. And what do I know about you? Nothing! Not one blessed thing. But I’m supposed to feel ‘safe’ with you. Give it up, McKenzie.”

  “You can’t get rid of me.”

  “Sure I can. As of now, we’re divorced.”

  He barked out a laugh that bordered on cruel, then grabbed her quickly and swung her against him. She gasped as his mouth descended on hers, kissing her so hard she couldn’t breathe. Her knees buckled and her head was spinning. Don’t let him do this to you! a part of her brain screamed, but another part sighed in contentment.

  Propped against the still-wet side of her car, the door handle and her keys digging into her buttocks, she tried to call up every reason in the world to push him away, attempted to recover her hard-nosed stance and insist that they had to end their affair, but her heart was pumping wildly, her body ached for the touch of him, and her determination seemed to slip away, inch by inch, just as the sun slid slowly beneath the horizon.

  Her senses swam, and it seemed natural to wind her arms around his neck and tilt her head eagerly to feel his mouth against hers. His tongue parted her lips and she shivered with anticipation of that glorious invasion as it touched and danced with hers.

  When he lifted his head, his breath came out in a rush and she swallowed with difficulty. This felt so right and she knew it was so wrong. Loving him would only cause more heartache, more pain.

  Touching his forehead to hers, he held her close. “Let’s not argue about this, okay. I’ll meet you at home.”

  “My home,” she clarified.

  “Yes, Nikki, your home.”

  He didn’t move as she slipped into the driver’s seat of her convertible. The upholstery molded to her contours; the seat was the right distance from the throttle for the length of her legs. Shoving the gearshift into Reverse, she backed the car out of its tight slot, slammed into Drive and, with a squeal of tires, threaded her way through the parking lot.

  Trent watched her go and wondered how in the hell he was ever going to ease back into his old routine. Once this Crowley mess was settled, there would be no reason to see her, no reason to find excuses to be with her, no reason to scheme ways to get her into his bed.

  Angry at himself, the world in general, and most pointedly at Diamond Jim, he kicked at the tire of his Jeep, felt a jarring pain all the way from his foot to his hip and swore under his breath. From the first time he’d seen Nikki Carrothers he’d felt his heartbeat catch, suspected that she was a woman like no other he’d ever seen. When he’d found out that she was working on a story about Crowley, he’d learned everything he could about her. The more he knew, the more fascinated he’d become until, like Crowley, she had become his obsession. One good. One evil. A balance.

  But Trent hadn’t expected to become more entranced with her as the days had passed. His intuition had been right, he thought grimly as he stepped into the Jeep. She was different. Stubborn, determined, relentless—not exactly female qualities that he’d hoped to find in his wi
fe.

  His hands poised in midair over the steering wheel. Wife? What was he thinking? He didn’t want a wife, never had and especially would never want a bullheaded, prideful, arrogant woman like Nikki. No, he’d always gone for the softly feminine type, curvy, flirtatious, not too many brains. Those kind of relationships were easy to end.

  There had been a few intelligent women in his life, women who were attractive to him on a level he didn’t trust, women who had a chance of toying with his heart and his mind, and he’d avoided them like the proverbial plague. But with Nikki, things were different.

  He jammed his key into the ignition, punched the throttle and roared after her. A cynical smile curved his lips. At first he’d played the role of her protector for the singular reason of keeping her safe, but as the marriage charade had worked and he’d been forced into close contact with her, he’d found his attraction to her impossible to fight. She’d been vulnerable and alone in the hospital, frightened, but as the days had passed and she’d healed, Trent had caught a glimpse of the woman within, the woman who seemed to have wrapped her long fingers around his heart and given a hard tug.

  Hell, what a mess! And now, here he was, chasing her. Fitting, he thought with more than a trace of irony curving his lips. He couldn’t help wondering if he’d be chasing her for the rest of his life.

  *

  Nikki felt a new power as she drove. Following a nonending stream of glowing red taillights, working her way from freeway to exit, turning on the radio to stations that were as familiar as a favorite old robe, she realized she was beginning to understand herself. Memory flashes were coming as rapidly as the street signs, milestones of her past flashing through her brain.

  She remembered a little black dog named Succotash, her favorite doll, her mother lighting a cigarette and warning her never to pick up the habit herself, the fights that seemed to wave from her parents’ bedroom every night when she was in junior high school, her mother’s increasing fascination with wine, the splitting of her family, painful and hard. She’d felt as if the underpinnings of her entire world had been ripped away, all the security she’d known had been stripped from her. That bleak period in her life was the only time she could remember seeing her father cry. Her chin wobbled a bit before her thoughts centered on happier moments, her senior prom and the sparkly white chiffon dress she’d worn only to spill orange punch on the skirt.