“You shit,” she muttered in his ear. “I’ll be right back. Is Clarissa in the kitchen?”
“We are on a first name basis with the mother-in-law?” Xavier asked.
“Please behave,” she begged. “It’s our last night.”
While she disappeared through the back door, Nigel sat down next to Xavier. “Well, bonsoir, mon ami,” Xav said with a pat on Nigel’s back. “Having a good week?”
“Listen, I must apologize,” Nigel began. “I feel like I’ve taken January away from you.”
Xavier moved closer as if they were spies sharing secrets. “You can keep her,” he told Nigel. “And next year at this time, you’ll be offering her back to me.”
“Now, Xavier…”
“Oh, I love her, but don’t tell her I said that.” Xavier crossed his arms over his chest. “She was happy this week. And that was nice to see.”
Relief filled Nigel’s soul. “So…she really did enjoy her vacation? Here…with me? I mean…with us…?”
Xavier took a drink of wine. “Immensely. You beat her ass, didn’t you?”
“Xavier! My goodness.” Nervous habits died hard, and Nigel covered his mouth with his hand. “I see why you’re such good friends. You both love to create a little chaos, don’t you?”
“Beat her ass—with anything. She loves that,” Xavier whispered. “But do you want to know what she really loves?”
“No!” Nigel turned away and eyed the bottle of wine. He had to have a glass. “Yes.”
“Nipple torture.”
Face wrinkling, Nigel had to turn away. He just couldn’t look Xavier in the eyes. “Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes,” Xavier insisted. “You don’t like?”
“I—honestly, I’m just flustered having this conversation with you.”
Xavier tossed his hands in the air. “Who better to hear it from?”
“Dear, dear me…”
“Get a pair of alligator clamps…”
“Al-alligator clamps?”
Opening his mouth wide, Xavier bared his teeth. “Yes, they have bite. Grrr…”
“Um, Xavier, do alligators growl?”
# # #
“Oh, January!" Clarissa opened her arms wide for a hug but then hopped back. “This dirty apron. I don’t want to ruin your outfit.”
“Don’t be silly, Clarissa,” January said and handed over her gift. “I just wanted to give you a little something to thank you for taking such good care of us this week.”
Touched by the sentiment, Clarissa finally realized that it was January’s last night with them. Usually, she was happy to see her guests go before another rush came in. January, though, impressed some grand memories upon their hearts. “You didn’t have to do this…”
“Nigel already went through that speech. Didn’t work. It’s a gift to share with Lawrence, but you can open it now if you’d like.”
Just as January suspected, Clarissa was one of those people who carefully tore at each corner as if she were going to save the wrapping paper and use it again. “How lovely, January! Oh, we’ll think of you every time we toast.”
That time, January reached out to hug Clarissa. “Just a little something to remember me.”
With a jolt, Clarissa pulled back. “You will come back again, won’t you?”
“Of course, I will!” January insisted, but they both knew that next visit depended on what happened with Nigel.
“If you trust nothing else, have faith in a mother’s instincts,” Clarissa said, and January noticed a tear in her eye. “He’s my son, and I know he’s quite fond of you, January. In fact, I haven’t seen him like this since—since…oh, never mind.” Clarissa stood tall and gathered her emotions. “This might be the last night of your trip, but I hope it’s not the last night we spend with you.”
“I hope it’s not either,” January said. “But that’s up to Nigel.”
Clarissa knew her only son well, and she was certain that he’d already made up his mind. However, she had to allow Nigel and January time to work this out.
“You are always welcome here, January. Always.”
“Oh, now, Clarissa, why are you crying?” Lawrence made his way into the kitchen with Dickens and Molly. He’d just returned from their nightly stroll around the grounds. “Stop it, both of you. Go outside and enjoy the evening. It’s a beautiful night.”
Once January opened the back door, she stopped and propped her hand on her waist, caught off-guard by the most adorable scene. Xavier and Nigel shared a bottle of wine as they laughed over some silly joke—likely at her expense.
Never in five years did she see Xavier engage in such an intimate moment with Etienne. Just knowing that he approved so openly of her budding relationship with Nigel comforted her. No one knew her quite like Xav, and she trusted his opinions.
For the first time that week, Nigel really seemed to let his hair down, joking not only with Xavier but also with his father. She hadn’t realized that they were such a comedic pair until Lawrence started telling stories of Nigel’s boyhood. They were great at poking fun, but she also noticed how much father and son loved each other.
Meanwhile, January took the time to really talk to Clarissa, who had her own memories of Nigel’s youth. She reminisced about his riding lessons and noted that he almost competed in the Olympics, but he lost interest after his first year at university.
Clarissa even confided that she felt her son was very lonely growing up, but she’d had trouble conceiving. By the time Nigel was born, she didn’t want to chance fate with her age. Shuddering at the thought, January could relate so much more than Clarissa realized. She hoped to start her own family before it was too late.
They’d chatted about January’s upbringing, too, and Clarissa couldn’t believe she was the youngest of five—and the only daughter. Their families were worlds apart, but somehow, January and Nigel had found common ground with each other.
As midnight drew near, Nigel tried to keep her good-byes short, but January was in no hurry to rush her hugs and kisses. She told Xavier she’d meet him back at the manor house in time to return the rental car and board the train, and then Nigel shuffled her out the door.
Once they settled in the front seat of his car, Nigel turned to her and said, “We could do it in the backseat for old time’s sake…”
And then, January felt the first quiver of her lips as her entire body began to tremble. Destroying her promises to herself that night, she covered her face with her hands, slumped over and started to cry.
Chapter Nineteen
Before she even had the chance to blink, Nigel took her in his arms. It had been so long since she’d really cried, and January was so embarrassed by the demise of her own willpower. She didn’t want this night to be like this. She didn’t want Nigel to see her so emotional. He had enough problems of his own.
“Hey, sweets, please, don’t cry,” he murmured as he rocked her in his arms. Nigel couldn’t deny that he felt the same way, but this sudden burst of sadness shattered him. “Oh, no. January…oh, January…”
“I am so sorry.” As she sat up to face him, she didn’t care about how blotchy her face might look while the tears continued to roll. He cared about her, regardless of her stupid Hollywood image. “I didn’t mean to do this.”
“Darling, I know this is upsetting,” he tried to soothe her. “But we’ll see each other again. I have faith we will.”
“But what if…what if filming goes terribly wrong, and I have to stay an extra month? Or…what if…”
“What if…?”
“Well, now that you’re getting your self-confidence back,” she began, “what if you decide to go out one night and meet some girl at a bar—some gorgeous girl who’s younger than me…and twice as pretty…and smarter…”
“Hey, hey, hey…” He held her face in his hands and attempted to thumb away her tears, but they were flowing far too swiftly for Nigel to keep up. “Even if that girl exists, she’s not January Louise Gallimore.�
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“And who am I?” she shot back. “What do I have that she doesn’t? What can I give you that she couldn’t possibly do?”
“I’m sure she doesn’t have your spirit because you are unique.” He touched his finger to her chest. “And I’m sure she wouldn’t have your heart.”
“Please don’t tell me what you think I want to hear,” she begged. “I can’t leave like that. I just can’t.”
Admittedly, January’s behavior shocked him. Nigel thought she was so strong, but this sudden downturn didn’t sway him. He liked seeing her show some emotion—he needed to hear that this week meant more to her than a quick affair on the rebound.
“Listen to me,” he pleaded and gave her shoulders a shake. “I am not about to just write this off as some summer fling. I know it hasn’t even been a week, but you mean so much more to me than something so trivial. We’ll figure this out, but right now, you have a job to do. And I understand that.”
“I wish…I wish you could come to Los Angeles with me,” she said. “But you’d never get to see me.”
“And I have responsibilities here,” he reminded her. “To Mum and Dad—to my students.”
“Right place. Wrong time.” Bitterness filled her voice as she contemplated their ugly reality. “I’m going to miss you so much that it hurts—I can feel it, this heavy weight on my chest. And I’ve…I’ve never felt that way before.”
“And you’re afraid of it, aren’t you?” When she nodded, he pinched at her beauty mark. “I know because I’m feeling the exact same way.”
“This sucks. There’s no other way to express myself. It just fucking sucks.”
“It does suck, but I don’t want you to spend our last night together in tears.”
Nigel didn’t need to say another word. He just held her for a long moment in that front seat while his parents and Xavier watched them from the window, wondering what was going on.
“Darling, I would love to hold you like this all night, but I do have to drive…”
“Take me to your cottage, Dommy.” January sat up in her seat and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Because I need to be held.”
They made that now familiar drive in silence. However, January didn’t feel alone in her desolation as she often did with Etienne. She could see the sadness in Nigel’s eyes, too. With only hours left, she had to make the best of these final moments.
“You sit down on the couch,” he told her as he unlocked the door. “I’ll get us a blanket and check in on Lenny.”
“You even care about my rabbit…” she said, feeling the tears in her eyes once again.
“Of course, I do. I love animals, but even more than that, she’s your baby.”
Looking into his eyes, she shook her head. “How did I ever find you? Nigel, you are such a wonderful man.”
“Sit down. And focus. We have some serious snuggling to do.”
January wasn’t in a hurry, though. She folded her arms around herself, feeling a slight chill from the evening air, and she took a good look around. This room already held so many memories for her. For them.
Glancing to the hearth, she recalled the warmth of the fire on that cold, rainy night. She remembered her discovery of the secret that gardening book held inside the cover.
Her mind, though, dared to do some dreaming. She envisioned a Christmas tree in the window with the aromas of Clarissa’s baking wafting from the kitchen. She imagined the sounds of children’s laughter…
And then she stopped herself. At this rate, and with her luck, she’d likely end up moving back to New York and adopting a child, all on her own. There would be the occasional visit from Uncle Xav, and maybe she’d do a show or two on Broadway. At least the stage provided strong roles for older women.
She wasn’t sure how the hell life would unfold in the coming months, but she was relatively certain that she was finished with Hollywood. She made a pile of cash. Hell, she could even work on her own fashion line—or maybe partner with Xav.
It was the sense of the unknown that gutted her. She knew what she wanted. She just couldn’t have it right now. And the notion that this, too, could disappear filled her with despair.
Luckily, Nigel didn’t leave her alone with her thoughts for long as he returned with Lenny and a bottle of wine. “All the creature comforts,” Nigel chuckled.
Scooping Lenny from Nigel’s careful clutches, January sat back on the couch and gave the bunny a kiss. “Mommy has to leave you, too. Again.”
“She stays with Xavier while you’re away?” Nigel asked.
“Yeah, she does. Etienne was never a fan of her fur.” With a snort, she mustered her best French accent. “Zeh buh-nee rahbeet messed up hees magnifique clothes.”
“I don’t think I could spend much time around him,” Nigel admitted, as he uncorked the wine.
“Yeah, sometimes I wonder how I did it for five years,” she thought back over her failed relationship. “Did you like him, Lenny? You never said much.”
“If animals could talk…” Nigel sighed and sat beside her. “Wait, though…I do know a talking horse. What was her name?”
“We didn’t even get to fuck in the stables yet.”
“We’ll have time for that,” he assured her. “Let’s look to the future, rather than fretting over the immediate.”
“You’re the Dommy. I do what you say.”
“You know, I would be happy to keep an eye on Lenny while you’re away—if you’d be comfortable with that.”
His suggestion was so thoughtful, and she wanted to cry all over again. “Oh, Nigel…”
“No, January, don’t cry, please.” Right now, he needed to rely on the memories of their morning horseback rides and of their lovemaking in the lavender fields. Nigel couldn’t hide his romantic side, and he had nothing but those images to cherish in her absence. “But seriously, think about it. I wouldn’t mind her company.”
And it would give January an excuse to return to him at summer’s end.
Leaning back against his chest, she sipped her wine. “You want to watch my baby bunny for several weeks while I’m away…” January felt as if she had to say the words herself to believe them. Nigel’s offer was both genuine and generous. “You have such a sweet and tender heart.”
“So do you,” he insisted. “And I’m shocked that no one noticed that before me.”
“I guess I’ve been hanging around the wrong guys.”
“Well, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I hope you’ll hang around the right one now.” He placed his glass down on the coffee table, and his hands moved to her shoulders for a rub. Ever so slowly, he turned her in his arms and caught her lips to his. “I have no intentions of sleeping tonight. I just want to make love to you.”
Kissing Nigel always pacified January. It was as if the troubles with the entire world disappeared with the caress of his lips. That night, she paid attention to every sensation, beyond the sultry workings of his mouth. She felt his strong chest as she pressed against him, losing herself in the ripple of his abs beneath his shirt. As those muscular arms embraced her, she indulged in the safety he afforded her—both in mind and in body. His natural instincts to watch over her calmed her. She needed that security—and stability—that he could bring to her life.
January also needed some good, old-fashioned lovemaking. Not that Nigel’s efforts to be her Dominant partner didn’t thrill her, too, but it was nice to just have that sexual connection without having to perform every time the lights went out.
Decidedly, she also loved the feel of his hands over her back. He never just swiped his palms over her for a quick feel. His fingers always worked hard—massaging and rubbing and stroking—to awaken her senses.
The might of his thighs tightened around her hips; however, his cock wasn’t the only thing on January’s mind. She savored his loving in its entirety, and she felt their fierce connection far beyond sex. Reciprocation was new to January. In the past, she always felt that she did most of t
he giving. Now, she had to learn how to accept his emotions, too.
Over, around and everywhere, their hands roamed, but neither one of them moved to take off a stitch of clothing. Prolonging their foreplay allowed them both to pretend that they still had time.
When Nigel finally moved to sit, they were both breathless. January looked over to the hearth to find Lenny minding them from afar, and she giggled.
“I believe we’re being watched.”
“Won’t be the first time,” January quipped much to Nigel’s shock. “Come on. You know all about my secret past.”
As he reached behind him, he lifted the lid of one of Clarissa’s dried flower decanters where he’d hidden a few condoms.
“In the potpourri? Are you joking?”
“Oh, I tucked them all over the house—just in case. My mother better keep her hands out of the flour jar in the kitchen.”
“But potpourri?” she pressed him. “You want your cock to smell like dead roses?”
“Well, you seemed to enjoy its lavender scent the other afternoon...”
“You make me giggle…”
“Maybe next time, we won’t have this problem?”
Immediately, her mind jumped to conclusions. “You’re not getting a vasectomy, are you?”
“Um, no,” he said simply. “It’s Nigel here—not Etienne.”
Pulling the tip of her thumb into her mouth, she cast her eyes down, away from him. She knew she had to stop making assumptions based on her past. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he told her and pulled her close again. “Old demons never truly disappear. But we can move on and ignore them.”
“Would you just kiss me again?”
“Will you let me take your clothes off?”
Suddenly, she was ready for him. She loved their lengthy make-out sessions, but that look of raw hunger in his eyes pushed her to the edge. With a shake of her shoulders, the thin straps of her tiny tank fell. “I’m all yours—for the taking.”
A single pull of his hand lifted her shirt over her head. Since they weren’t playing, rules didn’t apply, and she rushed her fingers down the front of his shirt. She needed to feel that chest with her own bare hands.
SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit) Page 27