by J. R. Ward
The steady hum of the Hacker’s engine dropped to a low pump as Nick pulled into the boathouse. After he shut it off, he stepped from the gunnels onto the dock. As soon as his feet landed, he looked down at the decking, wondering why he felt like he was still on water.
Air, he thought. He needed air.
Or maybe he could’ve used less scotch over the course of the evening.
That was probably it.
With more care than usual, he tied up the boat and started on the walk up to the mansion. He discovered that as long as he kept his head level, the weaving and dizziness went away. The night chill seemed to help clear his mind, so he loosened his bow tie and opened up his starched collar. When that made him feel better, he took off the tuxedo jacket and slung it over his shoulder.
What a horrible evening, he thought. The Thorndykes were nice enough, but they’d invited Candace’s father, not knowing about the breakup. The man had railed at Nick for an hour about how deplorably his daughter had been treated and how fortunate it was that she’d moved on to someone better.
Nick had started in with the scotch as soon as Hanson had started in with him. He’d kept drinking right through the roasting of the pig, which had not gone well. Thanks to his desire to keep emptying his glass, the entrée had emerged from the ground petrified into a pig chip half the size of what it had been going in. After attempts to carve the roast broke one knife and dulled two others, Thorndyke had given up and served his high-class guests hamburgers and hot dogs. As Nick was leaving, he’d been informed his services as pig-sitter wouldn’t be needed in the future.
He stopped walking and looked toward the mountain. Squinting through the darkness, he tried to see if there was a fire going at the campsite.
Was Carter sleeping? he wondered. Curled on her side, breathing deeply and slowly, her lashes against her cheeks?
He cursed out loud as his mood deteriorated further. He’d been berated by Hanson, had failed at his assigned task of roasting that frigging pig, and was now staring down the barrel of a royal hangover. But worse, he was mad as hell at Carter and she was going to be leaving soon.
Nick raked a hand through his hair as he started for the house. He noticed there were lights on in the guest wing. The Swifts were down for another evening, obviously.
His eyes, more alert, shifted back to the mountain.
He changed direction.
Going past the house, he moved quickly through the meadow to the edge of the forest. Locating the trail in the dark, he scaled the mountain with growing conviction. As he made his way to the summit, he practiced his speech. About how closed-minded she was, how intolerant, how unfair…
When Nick got to the campsite, he saw a glow in Carter’s tent and marched right on over. Wrenching back the flap, he pronounced, “Woman, you need to listen to what I have to—”
Buddy Swift looked up from a comic book, surprised.
Nick blinked, nonplussed.
A chuckle was sent his way. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but ‘woman’ is a first.”
“Where is she?” Nick demanded.
“Down at your house.”
“Oh.” Nick weaved slightly.
As Buddy looked at the man who had interrupted his reading, he had to hide his smile behind Superman #7. It wasn’t all that often he saw a billionaire disheveled and a little tipsy.
“You okay?”
“Damn right I am.” Farrell’s voice was gruff and his eyes were dark with displeasure. He also looked as if he were going to fall over.
“Say, you want to take a load off? You look like you need a minute to gather yourself.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“Here.” Buddy got up from the cot. “Why don’t you sit down. I was just going to get up and check the perimeter.”
It was something he’d been doing throughout the night, catnapping and then walking around between the campsite and the circle of stones. He was trolling for midnight intruders except, instead of finding one, one had found him.
As he went about his route, Buddy felt sad for Nick and Carter. They were both struggling, and he wished that the circumstances around William Wessex’s arrival had been different. Carter had been so happy right before her father had come. She’d looked young and carefree for the first time since he’d known her. Truly happy.
When he didn’t find anything out of the ordinary, he went back to camp. As soon as he stuck his head inside the tent, he groaned.
Snoring like a bulldog, Nick Farrell was asleep, one arm cast aside and hanging off the bed, the other tucked into his neck.
The guy was going nowhere tonight, Buddy thought.
Figuring he had no choice, he shrugged out of his jacket and rolled it up to make a pillow. He was hoping the ground was still soft from the rain and that the tent floor was free of leaks.
The next morning, Carter got up early, eager to get out of the house without running into Nick. She made the bed, put on shorts and a sweatshirt, and went down to the kitchen. There, she found Cort and Gertie with their heads together, working at something. They quickly put whatever it was away.
As Carter murmured a greeting, Cort grunted and pulled his bathrobe around him. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, with his hair matted instead of sticking straight up and his eyes half closed into slits.
“Go take a shower and wake up,” Gertie said, shooing at the boy. “You’re making me tired just standing there.”
“Mornin’, Carter,” he mumbled, shuffling past her.
“Rough night?”
“We watched Jaws.”
Carter smiled, imagining they’d had a good time together. “Wouldn’t think that would tire you out so much.”
“We saw it three times.” He yawned.
“Ah.”
He turned around. “So, Gertie, can we go?”
“You’ll have to ask your uncle.”
Carter stiffened and looked over her shoulder as if Nick was going to appear any moment. She began to inch her way to the door.
“Where is he?” Cort asked.
Gertie shrugged. “Haven’t seen him. Maybe he’s still sleeping.”
“Naw. His bed’s made up. I know ’cause I walked by and the door was open.”
Gertie frowned. “Didn’t he come home last night?”
Carter’s stomach heaved and she turned to the door. Gertie, however, stepped into her path and pressed a mug of coffee into her good hand.
It was Cort who made it to the door. “I’ll go down and check to see if the boat’s back.”
After he left, Gertie shot her a pointed look. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation. Nick knows this lake like the back of his hand and he isn’t one for fooling around, if you know what I mean.”
Carter offered a strained smile over the rim of the mug as she tried to drink the coffee quickly. She was wondering what was worse, him not coming home because he’d been in an accident or because he’d spent the night with someone else.
Now, those were two great choices. Like getting to pick between a broken collarbone and a dislocated shoulder.
“It’s none of my business,” Carter said with finality. “He’s a grown man, free to do what he pleases.”
The pounding between his ears woke Nick up and, at first, he thought it was another migraine. Then he remembered the scotch.
He rolled over, groaning.
“I can assure you,” a dry voice said, “I don’t like waking up to you much, either.”
Nick’s eyes snapped open. Even though they refused to focus, he managed to make out Buddy Swift’s wry grin. The man was lying on the ground with his head resting on a rolled-up parka.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Nick demanded, his voice full of gravel.
“The same could be asked of you.”
The guy had a point, Nick thought, looking around the tent. “What am I doing here?”
“Don’t know. You showed up in the middle of the night.”
Both men sat up slowly. Nick noticed that Buddy’s grimace matched the one he felt on his own face.
“Does this mean we’re going steady?” the guy asked with a gamine smile.
“Sorry. We’re one-night-stand material only. What time is it?”
“Must be almost seven.”
The two struggled to their feet. When they emerged from the tent, Nick’s eyes strained against the bright light and the promise of the day. He noticed Buddy didn’t seem any more eager to be up and around.
When the other man stretched, his body let out a loud crack of protest and he groaned in response. “Hard to imagine there was a time when my back could handle anything I threw at it. What the hell was I thinking, tackling that tree by myself?”
“It’s arrogance.” Nick rubbed his eyes. “Same thing that had me drinking half a bottle of scotch.”
“I feel like I’ve been in a car wreck.”
“I feel like I am a car wreck.”
“You want coffee?” Buddy went over and fired up the propane stove.
Nick nodded. Carefully.
While it was brewing, Buddy said evenly, “So I guess I wasn’t who you were looking for last night.”
Nick sat down at the picnic table. “Wasn’t looking for anybody. Just out for a midnight stroll.”
“In a tuxedo?”
“It was after five.”
Buddy laughed. “You sure seemed disappointed to find me in Carter’s tent.”
Nick reached his arms out over his head and bent side to side. “Last night was scotch-fueled folly averted by dumb luck. It was a good thing you were in there.”
Buddy came over with two mugs, passing one across the table as he sat down. “You sure about that?”
“Sure enough.” Nick took a sip and winced. “Good God, this stuff could wake the dead.”
“Considering the state we’re in, I think it’s just the ticket.”
The two sat drinking in silence, until Buddy said cautiously, “I’ve known Carter a long time. She seemed happy with you.”
“That’s changed now.”
“I know. And I wish it hadn’t.”
“You and me both.” Nick put down his half-empty mug.
“You want more coffee?”
He started to shake his head but stopped with a grimace. “No. I don’t want to risk having a seizure.”
Buddy took a big gulp of his. “What a lightweight.”
With a sardonic smile, Nick got to his feet. “Well, thanks for a lovely evening.”
“You’re welcome. But tell me, when will I see you again?”
“I’ll call.”
“Sure, you will.” With a saucy wink, Buddy waved and went back to his coffee.
Nick headed for the trail, hoping he’d make it down the mountain in one piece.
20
CARTER SWALLOWED the tail end of her coffee, burning the roof of her mouth. She had no interest in hearing confirmation that Nick hadn’t come home. She’d already made up her mind about what he’d been doing in the dark hours.
“I think I’ll head up the mountain,” she said to Gertie, trying to force nonchalance.
“Will we be seeing you for dinner?”
“I don’t think so. Things should be dry enough up there now.”
And even if she had to eat cold corn out of a can and sleep in a puddle, she was going to stay at camp.
“You shouldn’t be worried about Nick. As I said, I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason behind it all.”
Of course there is, Carter derided. Like he met up with a six-foot-tall model with hair the color of the sun and bee-stung lips that could suck-start a Harley. The two were probably planning their wedding in Majorca right now.
“He wasn’t with a woman,” Gertie said evenly, as if she’d read her mind.
Carter shrugged. “If he was, it’s all right. I have nothing to do with his personal life. It’s just business between us.”
At Gertie’s look, she tacked on, “Really.”
“You two are so alike,” the woman said ruefully.
“We’re both mammals, that’s true, but then, so are elephants and dolphins.” Carter opened the door and was almost outside when she remembered the clothes she’d left upstairs. Bolting through the house, she ran up and grabbed her bag. She was flying back to the stairs when she saw Nick come through the front door.
She skidded to a halt, teetering on the top step.
With a jolt, she saw that he was looking incredibly sexy in a disheveled kind of way. His tuxedo jacket was slung over one shoulder and his shirt was open at the collar. Those gray eyes were heavy-lidded and his hair looked as if it had had fingers running through it.
Whose fingers? she wondered.
“Good morning,” Nick said as he looked up at her.
She shot him an angry look. Shoring up her load, she started down the stairs. When she got to the bottom, he blocked her way.
“Sleep well?” he taunted.
“Unlike you, obviously,” Carter snapped. “You look like hell.”
“It was quite a night.” He had a sly smile on his face. “Unexpected, to be sure.”
“I hope you enjoyed yourself.” She put the bag between them and tried to push by him but he refused to move. “Do you mind?”
“I hope you have a good day at work,” he said in a mocking voice.
“You bet I will. The faster we get finished, the quicker I can get away from here.”
“The accommodations on my mountain and in my house aren’t to your liking?”
“More the host,” she hissed, shoving him hard.
He finally stepped aside and she rushed out the front door.
Carter’s walk up the mountain was punctuated by a lot of curses and some fast footwork. She made it to camp twice as fast as she usually did.
Buddy was trying to light a fire when she arrived.
“Food,” he said by way of greeting. “We need more.”
Carter collected herself with difficulty. “With the way you pulled down dessert last night?”
“That’s why they call the mouth a piehole. I was just following the owner’s manual.” He got to his feet. “We’re running low on just about everything. I was thinking I would go. Ellie and Cort can stay up here with you.”
Carter frowned. “I don’t need them as babysitters. I have a cut on my hand, not a neurological deficiency.”
Buddy’s brows rose at her sharp tone so she took a deep breath and tried to smile. “So how was the night up here? Quiet?”
“No,” he said with a grin, “and courtesy of the interruption, I’m stuck figuring out how to tell Cort I’m dating his uncle.”
“Excuse me?”
“Last night, the big man and I shared a tent. Your tent.”
She felt her jaw open. “Nick?”
“Yup.”
“He was up here? With you?”
“Yeah, and he snores like a wounded badger. Did you know that?”
She started to shake her head in disbelief. “But why did he come up here?”
“Why do you think? Too much scotch, not enough of you. He was all ready to give a big speech. You should have caught the look on his face when he saw me.” Her friend chuckled.
“You’re not serious.”
“The hell I’m not.”
“I can’t believe it,” she murmured while sitting down.
Buddy sighed theatrically. “He even stayed for a cup of coffee this morning. Such a gentleman.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“When?”
“This morning. He made me think he was out with…” She shook her head. “I guess it doesn’t matter.”
Buddy took a seat next to her. “Aw, come on, a billionaire stumbles up a mountain, in the middle of the night, wearing a tuxedo, just to find you. I think that means something.”
“Yeah,” she grumbled, trying not to be pleased. “That he’s nuts.”
“Right.”
Carte
r shot her friend a long look and then cracked a smile. “Buddy, don’t tell me the car is a lemon when you’re trying to sell it.”
“I’m nuts and you’ve put up with me.”
“I’m not in love with you,” she countered evenly.
Buddy’s face assumed a hopeful cast. “Does that mean—”
“No, I’m not in love with him either. And don’t give me that look.”
“What look?”
She rolled her eyes. “Shouldn’t we talk about getting back to work instead of my nonexistent love life?”
Buddy put his arm around her shoulders, his expression serious. “You should go talk to him.”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing more to say.”
“I think you’re scared.”
“Damn right I am.”
“You’re crazy about him and, after last night, I’d bet the farm that he feels the same way,” her friend said gently.
“Buddy, you live in university housing in Cambridge. You don’t have a farm to bet. And let me get this straight. You think it’s wrong to stay away from a ruthless man who has a reputation for treating women like disposable napkins?”
“That goes a little far, don’t you think?”
“Come on, he’s the poster child for ‘use once and discard.’”
“Don’t be absurd. And anyway, you’re different.” The conviction in Buddy’s voice tore at her, reminding her of all she wanted to believe in. “You aren’t one of those dime-a-dozen socialites who exists on a liquid diet of Chardonnay and has her palm out for clothes money all the time. You’re a real woman.”
Carter stood up, trying to find the resolve she needed to let the subject drop, to let Nick go. “I’m not convinced the problem is with the women he picks. Now can we stop talking about this? It was old days ago when I lost my illusions about him.”
Buddy reached out and took her hand. “Carter, how long have we known each other?”
“Jeez, I don’t know. Six years? Something like that.”
“And have I ever given you a piece of bad advice?”
She had an urge to send back a flippant response, but she saw that his eyes were grave. She shook her head. What he said next surprised her.
“I know he hurt you. Badly. But you know what? The course of love is never painless and people do stupid things. They make mistakes. And trust me. I know a man in love when I see him because I’ve been one. What showed up in your tent last night was a guy who was missing his woman. It wasn’t a slick operator intent on getting laid. He loves you. I just know it. So think about giving him a chance. Okay?”