And brief. She wanted to be very brief.
Mark yanked the door wide. His eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed. He looked hot and rumpled and distracted, as if he’d just rolled out of bed.
Nicole’s heart bumped.
She moistened her lips with her tongue and gave him her most conciliatory professional smile. “I realize this is probably an inconvenient time. But—”
“Yeah, it is.” He turned from her and addressed the child. “She’s okay. But don’t do that again.”
Nicole cleared her throat. “I, um—”
Mark walked away, saying over his shoulder. “You might as well come in. You want coffee?”
“No, I, um—”
“You look like you need some. God knows I do,” he muttered and stalked across the main room of the apartment.
It looked like a den, like a lair, decorated all in browns and greens. The walls were planked. The furniture was rough. Petey the Pike leered at her from above the sofa as Nicole edged over the threshold.
The angel child watched her with wide, interested eyes. “I’m Daniel. I’m six.”
“Hi, Daniel. I’m Nicole.”
“I learned three new words today.”
“Don’t say them,” Mark warned from the kitchen. “Cream and sugar?” he asked Nicole.
“Just milk, please.” She smiled again tentatively at the little boy. Professional, she reminded herself. Conciliatory. And then she blew it. “Do you live here?”
The boy shook his head. “I’m visiting.”
She almost sagged with relief. Mark wasn’t keeping things from her. He wasn’t lying to her. He wasn’t— “Is Mark your—” Uncle? Cousin?
Mark returned bearing a coffee mug and wearing a hard, closed expression. “Daniel is my son,” he said flatly.
Nicole looked like he’d just splashed ice water in her face instead of handing her a cup of coffee. Not the reaction he’d hoped for. Pretty much what he expected.
Single dad and chick magnet were not the same thing at all. He’d already screwed up last night by not being straight with her. Finding out this morning that she’d been dumped for a six-year-old obviously wasn’t scoring points either.
She hid it pretty quick, though. At least from the kid. Mark appreciated that.
“That’s nice,” she said. “Do you live with your, um—”
Mark crossed his arms, watching her with grim amusement. “Grandparents,” he supplied.
“My mom died,” Daniel said. “A car hit her.”
Oh, now, that was good, Mark thought, grabbing for his customary cynicism. If they didn’t scare her off completely, maybe he could work the pity angle. For some women a cute kid with a dead mom played better than a chocolate Lab.
“I’m sorry,” Nicole said. She looked at Mark, her blue eyes warm and sincere. “For both of you.”
He felt like a jerk. He was a jerk, looking for ways to use her soft heart against her.
But he didn’t want to let her go.
“It’s not like you’re thinking,” he said.
She tilted her head. “So explain it to me.”
“It’s a long story.”
Her gaze cooled. “Of course. Some other time.”
He was losing her. “No, I meant—”
“It’s really none of my business. We don’t have the kind of relationship where you have to feel compelled to share the details of your personal life with me.”
He wanted to agree with her. But he didn’t like the way she was withdrawing behind that bright, blank barrier she erected against hurt.
“So what should we talk about? The bar? The weather? Did you know our average rainfall this year is eleven inches above average and seven of those inches fell in the last month alone?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Very funny. Actually, I came to discuss—”
“After breakfast,” he interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“We can talk about whatever you want after breakfast. You look like you need some, anyway.”
Her free hand went self-consciously to her hair. She looked—not less perfect, she was still and always a knockout—but less pulled together than usual. Her face was pale, her eyes were tired, and her clothes looked slept in.
“Well, I—”
“We’re making eggs,” Daniel announced unexpectedly. “You can have two.”
Her whole face softened when she turned her attention to the child. Mark doubted she was even aware of it. “Two eggs?”
“Unless we break any more,” Mark said dryly.
Daniel’s eyes widened. His lower lip quivered. “You said it was no big deal.”
Ah, hell.
“It’s not,” Mark said.
Nicole smiled with sympathetic understanding. She must be used to kids. Married Ted, the insurance salesman, had had three boys.
“Problems?” she asked.
Mark curled his hand around his son’s bony shoulder, willing it to relax under his palm. “Nothing we can’t handle,” he said.
But it was nice, he discovered, to have some adult backup. Nicole helped Daniel set the counter with silverware, praised the eggs and dealt competently with toast crumbs and spilled milk. And Danny seemed more relaxed in her company, chattering about starting first grade and sliding from his stool to show off his collection of plastic lizards that traveled with him in a special shoe box.
“I like dogs,” he announced. “I want a dog. But Grandpa says they’re dirty, so I have lizards.”
A boy ought to have a dog, Mark thought with sudden, fierce conviction.
A dog would be somebody to play with. To take care of. To look up to you with unconditional, unquestioning love.
Yeah, Daniel needed a dog.
And Mark needed…
Well, he sure as hell had never had a pet. Any dog dumb enough to sniff around the DeLucca household would have run away from his dad’s abuse or starved from neglect.
He watched his son arrange the lizards among the crumpled napkins and dirty glasses. Nicole was talking to him, getting him to explain the difference between lizards and salamanders—man, the kid was smart. Who would have guessed he’d know something like that? And Mark thought, This is okay.
It felt right to have the kid here.
It felt good to have Nicole around, asking all the right questions.
He could get used to this.
The thought rippled like a storm flag on a cloudy day. Danger. Alert.
He shouldn’t want to get used to this. What if he decided having them around was a good thing and then it blew apart? What if he came to need them and they didn’t need him back? Mark set the dirty dishes in the sink. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth.
Robert Wainscott had made it clear he would fight to keep Daniel.
Danny himself might not want to leave the grandparents he knew for a father he’d only just met.
Nicole was recovering from a series of hit-and-run lovers. Despite last night’s offer, probably the last thing she needed was drive-by sex with someone she had to work with day in and day out.
Mark ran cold water over the egg-crusted plates. Face it. He didn’t have what it took to make things work for the long haul. Tess was the one with the caring gene. He was the screwup with the short attention span.
He’d never met a relationship he couldn’t louse up or a responsibility he couldn’t walk away from. By now he knew better than to set himself up for disappointment.
Didn’t he?
Every book and article Nicole read stressed the importance of communication. That was why she had barged in on Mark and his little boy: to communicate to him her determination to reestablish their relationship on a businesslike footing.
Well, that, and because she couldn’t keep away from him.
She cradled her mug in her hands, feeling the warmth of the coffee seep through the thick china, letting the warmth of Daniel’s chatter seep into her bones.
Okay, maybe she had allowed herse
lf to be diverted from her original purpose. But Mark had promised to tell her about Daniel’s mother—it’s a long story—and that was still communication. Wasn’t it?
So her objectives were good. Basically. Her motivations were pure. Mostly.
It wasn’t her fault that none of her books offered any guidance on how to launch into a complicated discussion of involvements and intentions when your lover—employee, she corrected herself hastily—was distracted by breakfast dishes, and his six-year-old son was marching lizards up your leg.
She stirred reluctantly. “I should probably go. Thank you for breakfast.”
“More coffee?” Mark asked.
She was tempted. And by more than the coffee. Mark’s eyes were warm and dark, his jaw attractively stubbled. He looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed and with very little encouragement would roll back in.
Her pulse quickened. She tightened her grip on her cup. “No, I—you obviously have plans for the day.”
“You could come with us.” Daniel, standing by her knees, turned his head toward his father. “Couldn’t she come with us?”
Mark frowned slightly. “Is that what you want?”
Nicole cringed. He might as well have spray painted a huge No Girls Allowed across the front of the clubhouse.
She stood, making a grab for one of the plastic lizards as it tumbled to the floor. “Really, I—”
“Please?” Daniel asked, still looking at Mark.
Mark hesitated. “Sure,” he said. “That would be fine.” And then, before Nicole could tell him she wouldn’t dream of intruding on the DeLucca-male, Sunday-morning bonding ritual, he smiled at her crookedly. “In fact, it would be great.”
Her insides turned to warm mush. Nicole Reed, Human Oatmeal. She sighed. “Where are you going?”
“In a boat. A big boat. On the lake.” Daniel’s eyes were wide with excitement…or nerves? He clutched a big blue lizard. “You’ll have fun. Please?”
A big boat on the lake. Nicole looked at Mark. “Will you make me walk the plank?”
“No. We have other uses for our female prisoners.”
Her heart beat faster. “Oh, now, that’s reassuring.”
“Relax. You have a chaperone.”
“But no clothes.” She was still in the khaki pants and silk blouse she had worn the night before.
“You can stop at home.”
Her stomach clenched. The thought of facing Kathy and her overnight guest was more than she could bear. “No.”
Mark shrugged. “Then we’ll find you something.”
“Please?” Daniel repeated, like little Oliver Twist requesting another bowl of gruel.
She had always been a sucker for male persuasion. The combined coaxing of father and son was too much to resist. She needed to be wanted, and she wanted to be with them. Maybe it wasn’t smart, but it was true. And Nicole was sick of lying to herself.
“If I’m really not intruding—”
“Daniel wants you,” Mark said.
She searched his gaze, black, challenging. “Does he?”
“We both do,” he said.
She took a deep breath. “Then…yes.”
“Cool,” said Daniel.
“Good,” Mark said. “Let me get you something to wear.”
The “somethings” turned out to be a large white T-shirt, a zippered black sweatshirt and a snug blue bikini.
Nicole held the pile up and raised her eyebrows. “Yours?”
Mark paused stuffing a duffel. “The T-shirt is.”
“And the bathing suit?”
He shoved a child-size sweatshirt and a pair of shorts into his bag. “Somebody must have left that behind.”
Somebody female. Somebody temporary.
But it did fit very well, Nicole thought, craning to look at her reflection in the bathroom when she went to try the suit on under her clothes. She wasn’t falling out the top, and the blue flattered her coloring. Should she take it as a sign her luck was turning?
Or as a warning?
It was hard to cling to gloomy thoughts when the lake sparkled and the sky gleamed and the wind whipped her hair from her eyes and her doubts from her head.
They walked down the dock. Or rather, Nicole walked, Daniel skipped and Mark strode after him. Boats tugged gently at their moorings on either side, their ports of origin ranging from Batchawana Bay to the Florida Keys, their names ranging from the sentimental to the silly: Sea Dreams, Annie’s Yacht, Kawabunga. Flags and beach towels bleached in the bright sun. A dog launched itself from the side of a boat, splashing and barking.
Danny stopped. “Is he okay?”
Nicole looked to make sure. The dog’s head was a sleek wet arrow in the water. Its legs churned beneath the surface. “I think so. He’s chasing that ball. See?”
“He’s swimming.” The boy’s voice quivered.
Mark stopped beside a long white boat with deep red sails bundled to the—whatever that part was that stuck out from the mast. Under Way ran in red letters down the side.
“Technically, that’s a dog paddle,” he said.
Nicole raised her eyebrows. “Which you, of course, can identify because of your advanced marine training.”
His mouth quirked. “Well, yeah. And because he’s a dog. That was a big clue. So, can you swim?” he asked Daniel casually.
The boy shook his head.
“Don’t go jumping in after any ball, then, okay?” Mark said.
“What if I—” The boy snapped his mouth shut.
“Fall in?” Mark finished easily. “Not going to happen. But I’ve got a vest for you to wear that would keep you afloat.”
“Where is it?” Daniel asked.
“Right onboard.” Mark stepped over the low side and onto the deck of the big white sailboat. It rocked under his weight.
Nicole gaped. “This is yours?”
“Every inch,” Mark said.
“It’s—” Gorgeous. Expensive. “—big,” she said.
“Twenty feet.” He caught Daniel under the arms and swung him aboard. The boy clutched at his shoulders. “Easy, sailor.”
“But how could you—” Crass, Nicole scolded herself. She might as well come right out and ask how much he made.
Except she knew how much he made. She paid him.
“I had a lot of pay saved up and waiting for me when I got out,” he said. “Not that I could have afforded her if some forty-six-foot ketch hadn’t dragged anchor in a storm off Mackinaw and plowed right into her. I’ve spent the past year doing repairs.”
He fit an orange life jacket onto Daniel and guided him to a padded bench before extending a hand to Nicole. She grasped it tightly, trying to ignore the foot or more of dark water separating them, and lurched toward him.
He caught her, chest to chest. His was lean and strong.
Her heart hammered. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “Welcome aboard.”
He handed her to the seat beside Daniel and tossed her a matching vest.
“What can I do?”
His grin flashed. “Enjoy the ride.”
Oh, my.
She watched him untie from the dock, long arms reaching, strong back flexing. He moved with speed but without apparent haste, pushing, adjusting. The breeze flipped back his hair. The engine thrummed under her feet, and she looked at him in surprise.
“I want to get clear of the marina before I put her under sail,” he explained. “Someday I’ll take you out on Lake Michigan and show you what she can really do. But today—” the boat shuddered gently as he urged her away from the tie-up and into open water “—we’ll just take a little tour of Paradise.”
The lake, he meant. He wasn’t really offering to show her heaven. Although… Nicole lifted her face to the wind, the sun warm across her shoulders, the cold night only a memory. Danny leaned against her side, shivering with excitement, like a puppy.
Maybe heaven was like this after all.
“Now you’ll see something,”
Mark promised.
He moved nimbly, working the lines. The main sail rattled as he raised it. It billowed, snapped and filled, lifting above their heads, deep red and glorious as a flag. The boat leaped. Mark scrambled out on the pointy front part of the boat, only a gleaming silver rail separating him from the rushing water.
“Is that safe?” Daniel whispered, pressing closer for reassurance.
She put her arm around his shoulders. “I’m sure your father knows what he’s doing.”
She hoped so, anyway.
And he certainly seemed competent, fearless, as he set the second sail against the wind. He dropped back into the cockpit and took the wheel. The breeze flattened his shirt against his hard chest. His feet were braced against the deck. His strong hands were easy on the wheel.
He looked like every romantic picture to come out of Hollywood or from between the covers of those books she bought and devoured in secret. Of course, she knew better than to fall for the fantasy completely. Pirates were thieves and marauders. Sailors had a girl in every port. Even Odysseus took ten years to train his wandering heart toward home.
But there was no denying that something in her leaped and filled at the sight of him as the sails leaped and filled with the wind.
The bank slid by to their left—trees tinged with autumn, and the shops, all gray shingles and red brick, and the spire of the Catholic church rising in the distance.
“There’s the Blue Moon,” Mark called, lifting a hand from the wheel to point.
She had never seen him like this before. Cocky, yes. But not this happy. This relaxed. This young.
He grinned. “Want to give her a try?” He eased the wheel suggestively toward her, and the boat angled in response. Thrilling. Scary.
She shook her head vigorously. “No, thank you.”
He straightened them out with a slight adjustment. The boat surged forward. The shore rolled past, sandy beach and dark pine and the broad white steps of the Algonquin hotel.
“Daniel?” Mark invited.
The boy stared yearningly at the wheel. But he didn’t move from his seat.
Mark held out his hand, palm up. “Come on,” he coaxed. “We’ll do it together.”
Very slowly the boy stood. He took one hesitant step forward. And stopped, his fingers curled around the edge of his seat.
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