by Nancy Bush
Brushing her hair to a crackling shine, she then walked to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of Diet Coke. She thought of the expensive champagne Mr. Kern had awarded her last Christmas when she’d turned around the limping Moreland account. It had sat unopened for nearly six months already. Should she uncork it now?
Opening her fridge, where the champagne had sat all these months, she drew out the magnum of Dom Perignon. She had an aversion to champagne. She could still see it spilling in a silver stream from her father’s lover’s glass.
But it was hardly the champagne’s fault. Determinedly, Rory unwound the wire around the cork, then carefully wedged the cork loose. It exploded with a loud pop, hit the ceiling and bounced downward.
Rory laughed as champagne fizzed over her hands. Shrieking, she jumped backward, the liquid narrowly missing her dress. Champagne poured over the tops of her shoes, and she felt it ooze down to her toes. She was glad Mr. Kern couldn’t see the way she’d wasted his expensive gift.
The doorbell rang.
“Just a minute!” Rory hurriedly poured out two glasses and carried them to the door, balancing both in one hand as she twisted the knob. “For you,” she said, smiling as she handed a glass to a surprised Nick.
“Champagne?”
“Dom Perignon. Sure to give us both a headache, but who cares. I’ve had this bottle since last Christmas.”
Nick’s gaze dropped slowly over her appearance. “My, my, look at you,” he murmured.
Rory’s cheeks pinkened in spite of herself. “Oh, give me a break.”
“You just can’t take a compliment, can you?”
“No. I have no social skills in that regard,” she agreed unrepentantly. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
In a dark gray suit and a white open-necked shirt, he positively radiated good health and masculinity. Rory resisted the pull on her senses by refusing to do more than glance at him.
“That’s two compliments from you in one day,” Nick remarked lazily. “I don’t know if my heart can stand it.”
“Well, I’ve been storing them up. It’s been six years.”
“Seven, but who’s counting?”
“Has it been seven?”
“I think so.” He glanced around her apartment, and Rory was suddenly conscious of how small and characterless it seemed. She silently vowed, as she had many times before, to take the time to really decorate the place.
“What,” Nick asked carefully, “is that?”
Curled up on one of the kitchen chairs, his slanted blue eyes trained suspiciously on Nick, Rory’s Siamese cat lay as immovable as stone.
“Oh, Problem,” she said, smiling. Hearing her, Problem flicked the end of his skinny brown tail.
“Problem?”
“That’s his name.”
“Maybe I don’t want to know why.”
Rory smiled. “He roamed around the whole apartment complex creating havoc with the garbage bins until he finally adopted me. My next-door neighbor told me he was my problem.”
“Ahhh.” Nick walked over to the cat. Problem stretched and yawned and started to purr when Nick scratched behind his ears. “I’ve never seen you as a cat person, Rory.”
“I’m not sure I am one, but maybe. Problem seems to think I fill the bill.” Rory liberated her red knit coat from the closet and started to thrust her arms through it, but Nick suddenly appeared beside her. He plucked the coat from her grasp and held it out for her. Slipping her arms inside, Rory felt his warm fingers briefly brush against her nape. Gooseflesh appeared on her skin.
“Ready?” she asked, her voice unnaturally tight.
“Whenever you are. Where would you like to eat?” he asked.
“This was your idea,” she reminded him. “You choose.”
“How about some place down on the wharf?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Any place down there that has dancing?” he asked, opening the front door.
“Dancing?”
“You know, that thing we did at my wedding?”
Rory slid him a look. She’d wondered if he would bring up Jenny. Though their divorce was long over, Nick had never wanted, or been able, to express his true feelings about it. “Dancing is not high on my list of priorities,” she explained as she walked ahead of him down the stairs from her third-floor apartment. Nick’s silver Porsche was at the curb, and Rory couldn’t help smiling as she settled in beside him.
“What?” he asked, glancing her way.
“Did I say anything?”
“No… but I sense disapproval all the same.”
“You’re confusing disapproval with envy.” Rory ran her hand over the expensive leather seats. “You always did have a talent for getting the best of everything.”
“Not everything,” he answered lightly as he switched on the ignition. The car started with a roar and settled into a soft purr.
“So what’s missing in your life?”
“I can think of a thing or two.”
“Such as?”
He didn’t immediately answer as he shifted gears and moved into traffic. Rory was extremely conscious of the snowy white cuff peeking out of his gray jacket. She stared through the windshield, worried about this heightened awareness of him she couldn’t seem to control.
“I miss our friendship,” he said at length.
“We’re not ex-friends,” she admitted. “We just haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“No.” He fiddled with the touchscreen in his car, and amazed, Rory sensed that he was trying desperately to change the subject.
“No?”
“Our friendship pretty much ended with my marriage, which, by the way, was the second biggest mistake I ever made in my life.” He glanced her way. “You were right about that.”
“I never said it was the biggest mistake of your life.”
“Close enough. I’m just glad to be back in Seattle and starting over again. The last few years in San Francisco aren’t really worth remembering. So I thought I’d start over with you, with us.”
“There you go again, pretending you bought Jacobson & Kern because of me.”
“It’s not all pretending.”
His tone was serious. Rory glanced his way, certain he was putting her on. Careful, she warned herself again. “What was the first biggest mistake?”
“What?”
“You said marrying Jenny was the second biggest mistake. What was the first?”
“Oh.” He hesitated. “Someday maybe I’ll tell you about it.”
They stopped for a red light and Nick glanced her way. “Stop frowning or you’re going to have permanent creases between your eyes.”
“I’m not frowning,” Rory insisted.
“Yes, you are. There.” He reached over and touched her forehead right above the bridge of her nose. “Just like that. Relax, you still look great.”
“Still?”
“For a thirty-two-year-old woman.”
She sputtered impotently, and he had the nerve to laugh.
“I’m revising my opinion of you,” she said flatly. “You’re more than a pain in the ass. You’re downright mean.” She glanced out the side window and muttered, “You’d drive a lesser woman to Botox.”
“Sorry.” Nick coughed into his fist surprised. “I was joking.”
“Yeah, well…”
She subsided into silence and refused to be drawn into more conversation the rest of the drive, no matter how hard Nick tried. Being with him was too unsettling, and she had this feeling that he could infect her reason. He’d done it to other women. She was smart enough to know she wasn’t immune.
The restaurant Nick chose was an informal bistro that cantilevered over Puget Sound. He requested a table by the window and Rory turned her attention to the view of the water. Ribbons of light from the windows of the restaurant shimmered on the undulating black surface. In the distance, a faint line of burnt orange was all that remained of the setting sun.
&nb
sp; The windows were thrown open and the salty tang of the sea penetrated the café. Rory inhaled deeply, willing the pressures of the week to the back of her mind.
Nick ordered a draft for himself, but Rory refused another drink. “I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said. “You do look great.”
“Humph,” Rory snorted.
“Almost as good as…” his eyes drifted across the room for a comparison as he picked up his menu.
Rory snatched the menu from his grasp before he could finish that thought. “Okay, wise guy. I’m no older than you are, remember?”
“Yeah, but you told me I’ve aged well.” He snatched the menu back.
“And I haven’t?”
“I just said you looked great, didn’t I?”
“Are you trying to start an argument? Is that it? You haven’t seen me in forever and all you can do is needle me?”
“It’s not all I can do,” he assured her, his mouth curving.
Rory made an indignant sound.
“What was that?”
“A snort. You made me snort at you. Anything else?”
Nick chuckled and Rory buried her nose into her menu. They were walking a very fine line. This was a dangerous game they were playing, the kind they’d never indulged in when they were kids. The kind they shouldn’t be indulging in now.
The waiter came and took their order, and Rory refused to make eye contact with Nick. This “date” was not going as planned.
“How’s your sister?” Nick asked, as Rory searched her mind for banal conversation.
“Married. With three-year-old twins.”
“You’re kidding.” Nick seemed genuinely taken aback. “I always pictured Michelle as the footloose and fancy-free type.”
“Unlike her sarcastic older sister?” Rory guessed, more amused than angry.
“Unlike her sensible older sister,” he corrected smoothly. “How are you two getting along these days?”
“Absolutely fantastic,” Rory said.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Sometimes I don’t know who’s more surprised, her or me.”
“That’s good,” he said, and lapsed into silence
Rory dragged her thoughts from Nick and the fact that he was an only child and purposely thought about her sister. All the childhood rivalries, jealousies and fights between them had melted away years before. Somewhere along the line Michelle had grown into a real person, one whom Rory liked, admired and wanted to be with. “One of the benefits of adulthood is that you don’t have to hate your sister anymore just because she’s your sister. You can actually like her and it’s okay.”
“Do you see her often?”
She nodded. “She lives in Seattle; about forty minutes away from me.”
Nick looked pensively out the window as the waiter brought their plates. “I won’t be back for a while after this. I’ve got to wrap things up in San Francisco, and it’s going to take some doing.” He shot her a look she couldn’t interpret. “I guess we’ll have to make tonight last.”
“I’m not a night owl, Nick. As much as I’d like to paint the town red, I’ve got work tomorrow and I have this crazy, demanding new boss. I should really get to bed early.”
She’d been concentrating on her plate but looked up with a wry smile to Nick—only to see the sober sensuality simmering in his eyes. Her heart lurched. Quickly she glanced away. Nope. She wasn’t going to think of Nick like that, no matter what he did.
Daring a look back, she saw that he was still staring at her, but now his eyes were filled with amusement. Her pulse slowly returned to normal. Idiot, she berated herself. She’d imagined the whole thing.
“So tell me the truth this time. What made you decide to buy Jacobson & Kern? You could have probably started your own company here,” she pointed out.
“Not with Jacobson & Kern’s reputation.”
“You could make your own reputation in time.”
“Your confidence in my ability is appreciated.”
“What is this? False modesty?” Rory frowned at him. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always done exactly what you set out to do. When you decided to go into investments, I knew you’d be a success. You had to be. You’re Nick Shard. You don’t fail at anything.”
“I wasn’t so hot as a husband,” he pointed out.
“That’s only because you’re not husband material. But you’re an outstanding businessman. Your success rate was great even before you bought out that company in San Francisco. When you and Jenny were still married and you worked for Crowe, Weatherby, and—”
“Who says I’m not husband material?” he broke in.
Rory stopped short. “I do.”
“Why am I not husband material?”
He sounded so disgruntled that Rory shook her head. “Well, Nick. What can I say? Your reputation precedes you.”
“In what way?” At her short laugh, he demanded, “I’m serious, Rory. In what way?”
“In every way. You never lasted with any woman longer than a few months, and, like you said, your marriage was short-lived. You can tell me that you’ve lived like a monk these past few years, but I won’t believe you.”
“How do you know I haven’t been seeing the same woman for the past few years, hmm?”
“Have you?” Rory’s chest tightened reflexively.
“No,” he admitted.
“Well…” she murmured, relieved in spite of herself.
“I’m not the player you seem to think I am.”
“It doesn’t matter to me what you are. We’ve been friends too long for anything you do to surprise me. Forget it.” Rory was anxious to change the subject. “So why did you decide to come back to Seattle now?”
He looked like he was going to keep arguing with her, but he finally just shook his head and said, “Seattle’s home. When I left for San Francisco, I thought that would be it, but I got homesick, I guess. I never thought I’d want to come back.”
“Why not? Because of Jenny?”
“No. That died an unlamented death.”
“Then what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Some unfinished business, I guess.” He took a swallow from his draft and turned his attention to the meal.
There was something different about Nick, Rory decided. A change in attitude she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It piqued her interest and she found herself studying him surreptitiously while she picked at her plate, unable to do justice to the luscious seafood.
“You never told me what the first mistake was,” she reminded him.
“No, I didn’t.”
That was the end of that. Rory felt Nick was deliberately hiding something from her. She turned her face to the cool evening breeze wafting through the open window. Fine. If he wanted to be mysterious, let him. It wasn’t going to bother her.
Strains of music filtered inside, and Rory glanced around to see a three-piece band tuning up at a small patio to the right. Moist air off the Sound had dampened the tile floor, but even so, several couples had drifted outside, waiting to dance. Rory heard soft laughter as the band broke into a slow song.
“Ready?” Nick asked, tossing down his napkin.
“Oh. No. No dancing.”
“C’mon.”
“No, Nick.” She tried to evade the hand he reached across the table, but he caught her arm, pulling her to her feet.
“What’s wrong with dancing?” he asked, peering down at her. “What in God’s name do you do for fun, Rory?”
“I don’t have fun. I don’t believe in it. It’s not good for the soul.” How could she explain she didn’t want to be that close to him?
“Says who?” He laughed.
“It’s a truism of life. One of those things you just learn.”
“You overthink things too much,” he growled low in her ear, guiding her to the dance floor against her will. “Let go a little.”
Rory stumbled in his wake. “Nick…” she warned.
“I hope this isn’t your usual tactic with women, or you’re going to lose popularity,” she huffed.
“I’ll take my chances. So who have you been seeing lately, hmm?” he asked, drawing her into his arms.
Rory tried to wriggle free, but even though he held her loosely, his grip was surprisingly hard to break. “No one.”
“There must be someone.”
“Well, there isn’t.”
He closed his eyes as if lost to a memory then slowly opened them and asked, “What about Don Tisdale? He looked like a contender.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t date people I work with.” He laughed silently. “What?” she demanded.
“This isn’t a date?”
“No,” she said immediately. “And we’re not really working together yet, either.”
“I call bullshit on that.”
“You can call bullshit all you want. It’s my rule.”
She was suddenly aware that the tune was too slow and romantic for a dance with Nick. She opened her mouth to tell him so the same moment he dragged her tighter against his body.
The shock of hard masculine thighs and steely arms froze her tongue. “I always thought you’d marry,” he said, his breath ruffling her hair.
“No.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because I would have to marry a man.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have to,” he drawled, after a moment, as if he were thinking about her meaning. “What’s wrong with men?”
“I don’t know. You’re the expert.”
“I get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something.”
“Nope.”
They danced silently for a few moments, then he asked, “If marriage is out, how about having an affair with someone?”
“I think that sounds more like your department, not mine.” She bent her head, suddenly remembering that time they were together in college. “You’re not offering your services again, are you?” she asked, glancing up at him.
For a moment Nick looked blank, then he broke into laughter. “I didn’t offer my services before,” he reminded her, grinning. “You just wanted me to.”
“Faulty memory!” she declared.