Amanda straightened from the plug and gazed at herself in the mirror. “You haven’t even met him yet,” she mouthed, and gave herself a level stare that invited no arguments. “And don’t forget,” she added and pointed at her reflection, “you’ve got your dad to think of!” Satisfied with her self-lecture, Amanda nodded and decided a romance with Franklyn West was about as logical as one with Nate Knighton.
Ten
Nate planned to be late to Amanda’s little party, and he was. He figured the entry would be less of an upheaval if the room were already full. Nate eased into the sizable lobby and hovered near the wall.
Designed for corporate entertainment, the area looked like a small ballroom at an exquisite hotel. Along the south wall, a two-hundred-gallon saltwater aquarium offered a sampling of the ocean’s most striking occupants, including an imposing lion fish, a gaudy orange sea anemone, and two clown fish entertaining their audience with water aerobics. Two waiters, laden with silver-trayed delicacies, circled the room while a harpist dressed in cream-colored silk plucked out a melody intended to sooth the soul. But the effect was lost on Nate—all the way lost.
He was too agitated at the thought of being with Amanda for his soul to be soothed. He hadn’t seen her in a month—not since that upheaval over Mason Eldridge. And that’s the reason he’d invited himself to this gathering. Nate had stayed away as long as he could. The day had come for an Amanda fix, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself. He hadn’t even tried.
His heart thumped in rapid cadence as he caught site of her trailing from one guest to another. She was wearing a straight black dress that demurely stopped just above her knees. Her black spiked heels probably placed her a full inch taller than him. She towered over the whole group like a larger-than-life goddess with flaming hair.
Nate swallowed hard. He didn’t remember Amanda ever looking more beautiful . . . or his experiencing this melting sensation in the center of his soul. His palms moistened, and Nate blasted himself for being so weak.
This has nothing to do with love, Nate told himself, just as he’d told himself a dozen times during the last month. It’s just an irrational attraction, that’s all, he reasoned. Like a cold, he added. I’ll recover soon and be done with it. Amanda won’t ever have to know.
Finally she stopped near Angie and Wayne West. Beside them stood a tall, blond guy dressed in a tuxedo and looking like he just stepped off a high-dollar yacht. Nate glanced down at his usual navy suit and the ever-present red tie. This one was peppered with bronze golf clubs. Amanda’s comment about his predictable red ties made him wonder if he was like wallpaper in her life—forever present but never seen.
His mouth tightened as he observed Amanda again. When she returned the yacht king’s smile with enough warmth to ignite the whole outback, he grimaced and meandered toward the beverage table with all the nonchalance he could feign. The smell of coffee did nothing to tempt his dry mouth. Nate needed wet and cold. Heavy on the cold. He spotted several bottles of club soda nestled in a bowl of ice and was deciding he might drink all of them when he noticed a bronze-skinned beauty near the table.
He didn’t need a second look to recognize Janet French. The only other time he’d been with Janet, Nate had been tempted to get her phone number. But after prayerful consideration, he did not sense that was the best move. He quickly reconsidered that whole decision, as well as Janet’s petite figure in a simple-yet-elegant fuchsia dress. Nate couldn’t deny the prospect was tempting. Nevertheless, he knew in his heart the decision from a year ago must remain firm. Janet French, while highly appealing, simply was not the woman for him.
A baby’s familiar cry rippled from behind, and Nate swiveled to peer across the room. As he presumed, the cry belonged to none other than his nephew, Matthew Gordon Knighton. Matt’s mother, Bev, stood near the entry, jostling the seven-month-old while scanning the crowd.
With an indulgent smile he couldn’t deny, Nate momentarily abandoned the club soda pursuit and strode toward his redheaded sister-in-law. While there was no questioning her relation to Amanda, Bev lacked Amanda’s height, the stun-gun effect of brilliant green eyes, and the knock-’em-dead smile. Of course, that was in Nate’s opinion. He was sure Gordon would disagree.
Whatever, Nate thought as he approached his nephew. Those two have something most married couples would die for. He could only pray God would be as good to him one day.
He was mere feet from Matt when the dark-haired child spotted him. He smiled and lurched forward with enough gusto to challenge Bev’s grip and her balance. “Aaahhh!” she exclaimed as Nate hurried to her rescue.
The baby squealed and welcomed Nate’s opened arms. “How’s my champ?” he asked and settled Matt near his heart.
“I’m surprised he’s going to you like this!” Bev exclaimed while adjusting the neck of her cotton sweater. “He hasn’t seen you in nearly two months. I didn’t think he’d recognize you.”
Still smiling, Matt reached for Nate’s face. But the child’s eyes widened. He held his breath, then jerked his head back and released a scream that hushed the whole crowd.
The harpist’s fluid chords and the quiet gurgle of fish tank bubbles were all that filled the breathless silence.
“What’d I do?” Nate squawked.
Bev laughed and accepted Matt as he scrambled back into her arms. Still crying, he latched on to Bev’s neck and stared at Nate as if he were the Loch Ness Monster.
“I think he thought you were Gordon,” Bev explained as the guests resumed their chatting. “Then when he got a good look at you, he realized he’d made a mistake.”
“Well, hey there, little guy.” Nate patted the baby’s back. “I’m just your old Uncle Nate. I wouldn’t hurt you. No, I wouldn’t.”
“What are you doing to my son, you old buzzard?” Gordon’s jovial voice floated from behind.
Smiling, Nate turned toward Gordon. The elder Knighton son was two inches shorter than Nate, twenty pounds heavier, and showed more signs of gray hair every time Nate saw him.
“Looks like I’ve scared him out of a year’s growth,” Nate explained.
Gordon reached for his son. The baby settled into his father’s arms and laid his head on his shoulder.
“I couldn’t get him to go to sleep,” Bev explained. “We left the girls with Dad, but Matt wouldn’t have any of that. So we decided to just bring him with us. I was in Amanda’s office, trying to get him to sleep so I could enjoy the party. But . . .” she shook her head, “he kept crying for ‘Da, Da, Da, Da.’”
“I guess that’s what you get for being such a good pop!” Nate slapped Gordon on the back, squeezed his shoulder, and for the first time experienced a twinge of envy for his older brother.
All these years Nate had relished his freedom. Even though thoughts of a wife had been highly inviting for quite some time, Nate still enjoyed his untethered status. He could come and go as he pleased, with whom he pleased, when he pleased. Presently, it would be highly pleasing to come and go with his own little tyke.
“Ah well, Bev,” Gordon said. “I’ll just manage him while you get a snack.” He nodded toward a waiter laden with a tray full of goodies. “Those bacon things are too good.”
“Amanda always comes up with something so good you want to stuff your pockets full and take them home for later,” Nate quipped and wondered about the possibilities of stuffing Amanda in his pocket and taking her home . . . forever. He blinked and shook his head.
She’d never fit in my pocket, Nate reasoned, but his mind didn’t seem to register the logic.
“Well, hello there, li’l Matt.” Amanda’s distinct voice floated from nearby, and Nate couldn’t stop himself from stiffening. This is what he’d come here for—his Amanda fix. He eyed her as she stooped to look into her nephew’s face. All the while, Nate searched for something to say.
“Be careful,” he drawled. “He’s got a scream that shatters glass.”
“So I’ve heard,” Amanda replied wit
hout looking at Nate. Matt lifted his head and observed his aunt.
“Want to come to Aunt Amanda?” she encouraged and patted her hands together. “If I can get him to come to me, maybe you two can have some time together,” she mumbled from the side of her mouth.
“Don’t tell us that,” Gordon joked, “or we might leave for hours.”
“Oh, Gordon.” Bev slapped at his arm.
“Well, maybe you could at least enjoy a bottle of club soda together,” Nate offered and was reminded of his own thirst as Matt extended his arms toward Amanda.
She took the baby and turned him toward Nate. “See there. There’s your Uncle Nate again.” Amanda waved Bev and Gordon away while Nate cringed.
“Not sure that’s such a good idea,” Nate said. “The last time we got close, he shut down the party.”
“Oh, he’s okay,” Amanda crooned as the baby focused on the red beads clasped upon her neck. He wrapped his chubby fingers around the expensive new toy and tugged.
“Yikes,” Nate whispered, “he’s got your beads. Those things didn’t come cheap, either.”
“Who cares,” Amanda mumbled under her breath, “he’s quiet. And besides, you owned the store in the first place. You probably turned in the receipt for a company voucher.”
While Nate could have done exactly that, he hadn’t. He never did on the gifts for Amanda. He always wanted them to cost him something—even if bought from Knighton’s. Nate had never examined his reason for this, but tonight he suspected the motives might involve this chemistry that had sprung between them. Or at least had sprung upon Nate. Amanda, completely focused upon her nephew, didn’t appear to be sprung upon whatsoever.
Nate loosened his tie a bit and wondered if anyone else in the room were having problems breathing.
When Matt lowered his mouth toward the pretty red playthings around Amanda’s neck, Nate said, “Now he’s going for the chew.”
“That won’t work,” Amanda agreed. “Quick. Do you have something else he can play with?”
Nate shrugged. “I . . . I . . .”
“Quick!” Amanda repeated while trying to discourage Matt from chomping at her beads. “I’m afraid if I have to break his hold he’s going to scream again.” She looked toward Nate’s tie. Before he understood her intent, Amanda was waving the red strip of silk under Matt’s nose.
“Here,” she offered, “you can chew on this. It’s pretty and red, too.”
“But that’s my tie!” Nate squeaked as Matt grabbed the tie and shoved the end into his mouth.
“Don’t worry.” Amanda waved aside his concerns. “You’ve got forty dozen red ties at home. You won’t ever miss this one.” She slid him a saucy look much like the one she’d hooked him with at O’Brien’s, and Nate forgot all about the tie . . . or what day of the week it was.
“So what have you been doing with yourself these days?” Nate asked as Matt continued gnawing.
“Oh this and that,” Amanda replied. “You know, all the usual.” She glanced past him, then back to the baby. “And you?”
“The usual,” Nate repeated and grappled for something brilliant to say. But the smell of her perfume blocked all brain activity. “You smell great,” he said. The second the compliment popped out of his mouth, Nate was tempted to jerk the tie from the baby and stuff it into his mouth.
“Thanks,” Amanda said as casually as if he’d just mentioned the weather forecast. “It’s Jasmine. I think you gave it to me two Christmases ago.”
“I did?” Nate blurted and recalled telling his secretary to pick out some perfume for Amanda and his sister and mother. He’d never even bothered smelling the stuff, but had been pleased when Amanda was delighted with the gift.
“Yes.” She peered smack into his eyes. “I still have all your Christmas presents.” The admission took on a challenging edge.
Nate, confused by her hidden message, observed Matt, who was still in the tie-devouring business. Finally he said, “Well, I guess I still have all yours, too.”
They’re just in my closet, that’s all, Nate thought, and that whole ordeal took on a ridiculous twist. The purpose in “Operation Closet” had been to rid himself of Amanda stuff and, therefore, Amanda thoughts. But the closet was filled, and Nate was more consumed with Amanda than ever.
Now his spirit was more thirsty than his body, and the only “drink” that would satisfy was Amanda. While she focused on the baby, Nate allowed himself the indulgence of perusing her features and shamelessly absorbing the delicious effect.
When she looked directly at him, Nate glanced away, only to encounter the blond yacht king nearing them. Interestingly enough, Janet French approached from the other side, and Nate realized his time alone with Amanda was over.
Just as well, he thought, before I compliment something besides her perfume.
“There you are, Amanda,” the yacht king said. “I was wondering where you got off to.”
“Just doing some baby-sitting,” Amanda said as Matt abandoned the tie for a hard stare at the newcomer.
“Nate,” Amanda asked, “have you met Franklyn West? He’s Wayne West’s son—Angie’s stepson.”
“No, we haven’t met.” Nate extended his hand for a shake and experienced the odd sensation of meeting a male who was both taller and broader-shouldered than he. The guy’s tousled blond hair, straight nose, and engaging smile placed him on Nate’s “it doesn’t matter if I never meet him again” list. He grappled with the unusual sensation of somehow being outdone.
“So nice to meet you,” Franklyn said, his voice laced with a British tone. He glanced toward Janet, who was demurely approaching. “And I believe I remember you from the last time I visited. You were at Dad’s house helping your aunt clean, weren’t you?”
Janet nodded and smiled.
“You’ve visited before, Franklyn?” Amanda asked.
“Yes, six months ago, actually,” he said.
“Why didn’t we meet then?” She widened her eyes.
“Wasn’t that when we were in Paris?” Nate asked.
“Ah, yes. I believe that’s right.” Amanda shifted Matt and touched the beads, and Nate wondered if her memories of the trip were as fond as his.
“So it looks like I missed a beautiful part of Tasmania then,” Franklyn said with a meaningful smile.
“You’ll have to forgive his accent,” Amanda teased and winked at Janet. “He spent a lot of his childhood in Britain with his aunt and uncle. His uncle’s family is from there. I told him earlier we’d try to teach him to talk while he’s here.”
“Don’t take lessons from the likes of her,” Nate grumbled. “She’s spent one too many days in America. It’s ruined her but good.”
“I guess we’re the only ones who talk like true Aussies then, Nate.” Janet’s soft addition to the conversation drew Amanda’s focus. She looked down at Janet, and Nate thought he detected a slight swell of dislike. But the impression was so short-lived he dismissed it. Amanda had never been prone to disliking people. She was usually quite the opposite—friendly to everyone. Besides, she was the one throwing the party for Janet.
A resounding crash sent baby Matt into a leap and prompted his crumpled-faced crying.
“Oh no! How did that happen?” Haley wailed, and Nate spotted her at the end of the drink table. A large, stainless steel bowl lay on the floor. Ice was scattered like marbles in all directions. Haley held a small bottle of soda and gazed at the mess near her feet.
“Haley strikes again,” Amanda moaned. “I don’t know how she always does this.” She extended Matt toward Nate. “Here. You take the baby. I’ll go help her.”
“Oh no,” Nate said and lifted his hands, palms outward. “The last time I held him, he gave me eardrum damage for life. I’ll help her. You just keep Matt happy.” He directed a vague, “I’m outta here” smile toward the yacht king and Miss French and strode to Haley’s rescue.
Eleven
Haley gazed at the wet, cold mess near her feet. She’
d been leaning across the table to retrieve a soda when her backless spike heels failed her. Her ankle turned, and she plunged into the ice bowl. The metal bowl sloshed water on her and plummeted off the end of the table. Now she had streaks of water down the front of her sundress, her toes were cold and wet, and ice and soft drink bottles were everywhere.
Helplessly, she looked up to see if someone might take pity on her mishap, only to encounter half the crowd gazing at her. Harold Priebe’s bushy brows had never appeared so domineering. Angie West’s eyes bugged like the lion fish’s in Amanda’s tank. Betty Cates, that eternal scatterbrain, observed the whole mess with a “How did you manage that?” look on her face. Her neck warming, Haley figured this act must have transcended even Betty’s abilities.
In the face of Amanda’s perseverance, Haley had agreed to the regular addition of spike heels to her wardrobe. “You’ll get used to them,” Amanda had insisted. Haley was now wondering if Amanda’s prediction was an impossibility. So far the results had been far from fashionable. She’d twisted her ankle twice, rubbed blisters on her little toes, and nearly fallen on her face so many times she’d lost count.
If God wanted all women to wear mile-high toothpick heels, then why did He inspire people to create flats? she thought and shook her head.
Haley placed her soda on the table, knelt beside the bowl, and turned it over. She cupped her hands and scooped up some of the ice.
“Here, let me help,” a considerate male voice said.
She looked up to encounter Nate Knighton’s gaze, full of kindness and compassion . . . and a trace of humor. Haley glanced around the room to discover all guests had lost interest in her latest escapade. The bushy brows, fish eyes, and Betty’s astonishment were otherwise occupied. Haley’s face cooled, and an unexpected giggle escaped her.
Nate chuckled and knelt beside her.
“They say everyone has a special talent,” Haley chirped. “I guess mine is spilling things.”
Amanda_A Contemporary Retelling of Emma Page 9