by BETH KERY
A silence stretched. She couldn’t seem to inhale a full breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said, the perception of her selfishness breaking through her emotional chaos like a hot knife. It only added to her distress. “I...I hadn’t been thinking of it in that way. To me, this whole situation with Lincoln is—”
“Intensely personal,” he muttered, his breath brushing against her cheek. He’d sounded so grim, it shocked her when he pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth. She shuddered with emotion and a wave of physical weakness. “I understand that, too. Better than I had in the beginning. Every time you told me you could care less about DuBois Enterprises, that you only wanted to know your biological father before he left this world, you meant it literally. I get that now. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that there’s a much bigger, wider picture here, Deidre.”
Tears coursed down her cheek. The edges of her vision were darkening. “I wish Lincoln had never changed that damn will,” she mumbled through leaden lips.
His arms encircled her and he brought her hard against him. When he squeezed her tight, more unwanted tears spilled out of her eyes. He opened his hand at the base of her spine, and she had the disorienting thought he knew she had a tattoo there, although that wasn’t possible—was it? Her vision swam before her eyes. His caress struck her as focused...cherishing...possessive. He spoke next to her ear, the sensation of his warm breath on her skin and the sound of his roughened voice increasing her uncontrollable trembling.
“What’s done is done. We’ll deal with the consequences. I just want you to know that I’m not your enemy. Please believe that. If you’re truly Linc’s biological daughter, if Lincoln wanted you to have partial control of his company and if he was of sound mind when he made that decision, then I will make sure that legacy is passed on to you. I would fight anyone tooth and nail who challenged your claim if all those things are true, including John Kellerman. So there’s no reason to feel threatened by me telling Kellerman about the genetic testing or that you’ve expressed interest in the Vivicor acquisition.” He leaned back and stared down into her face. She blinked the tears out of her eyes so she could see him better, but he remained blurry. Deidre had the vague impression that he looked alarmed, but she couldn’t understand why.
“Deidre? Deidre—”
Her knees gave way. He uttered a curse as she collapsed and he caught her in his arms.
* * *
Nick watched her face anxiously as he carried Deidre down the hallway. Her eyelids fluttered, but she remained conscious. He’d nearly had a heart attack when he felt her legs give and she’d slumped in his arms. She was sick—weak—and he’d been barking at her like a rabid dog. He realized how upset she was at what she’d perceived to be a betrayal on his part. Nick had been wound up, as well. He’d been so caught up in trying to get her to understand his point of view that he’d remained utterly insensitive to the fact that she was about to faint.
He lowered her to the edge of the bed. She placed one hand on his shoulder and straightened into a sitting position.
“Lie down. I’m going to call a doctor.”
“No,” she said, sounding fatigued but firm. “It’s just low blood sugar. I haven’t been eating much over the past few days. And I’m a little tired.” Something about the defiant, if weary, tilt of her chin instinctively told him she wasn’t used to being the one receiving care. Deidre was usually the caregiver. She was the fighter. This couldn’t be easy for her. He understood her need for independence, but she’d better get used to some help, in the short term, anyway.
“I’ll be right back.”
He returned a moment later with a large glass of milk and a box of granola bars. “I called your sister at the Family Center. I figured she should know you weren’t feeling well. She says she’s coming by, but I told her you’d be resting. Eat a couple of these to get some fuel into you,” he directed, unwrapping a bar for her.
She seemed too tired to argue. Her petite frame slumped at the edge of the bed. She ate the food he gave her mechanically, swallowing it down with several gulps of milk. She shook her head weakly when he handed her the last of the second granola bar.
“Why don’t you lie down? Do you want some tea?”
She shook her head and managed a weak smile. “You’re a regular Florence Nightingale.” Some color was returning to her cheeks.
In fact, too much color.
“Are you all right?” he asked, noticing the light sheen of sweat on her forehead.
She nodded. “I’m hot,” she whispered. “It’s one of the symptoms of low blood sugar. It’ll pass in a minute, now that I’ve eaten.”
He matter-of-factly reached for the bottom of her sweater and drew it over her head. She looked a little stunned when he tossed the garment on the end of the bed, but apparently the cool air on her skin felt too good—or she was too exhausted—to protest. He knelt and removed her leather boots, forcing his gaze to remain on his task. A few seconds later, he stood and lifted the sheets, easing her limp form beneath them. Her eyelids grew heavy the second her cheek hit the pillow.
“You need a nice, long nap,” he said, tucking the sheet around her shoulders and drawing the comforter to her waist. “I knew you’d hardly been eating while you were at The Pines, but I had no idea you’d been wearing yourself out like this. I should have guessed. The staff told me you hardly left Linc’s side in the days before he died.”
“It was where I wanted to be,” she whispered. Her gaze flickered up to meet his. He abruptly stilled. She, too, looked frozen, unable to glance away. Staring down into Deidre’s eyes could make a man feel like he was sinking...falling. The seconds stretched. He felt his body sway slightly, as though he were being drawn to her like a magnet.
“Go to sleep, Deidre,” he said gruffly.
She rolled on her side, her back to him. He stood next to the bed, watching her long after her breath became even and peaceful.
He walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him carefully. One hand remained on the knob. He stretched his arm and palmed the frame above the door. He leaned there, unmoving.
“Nick?”
He blinked. Colleen Kavanaugh and a tall, dark man stood in the hallway. How long had he been leaning there, lost in thought? He hadn’t even heard them enter the cottage.
“She ate a couple granola bars and drank some milk. She’s sleeping soundly,” he said, straightening.
“Are you all right?” Colleen asked him, a strange look on her face.
“Yeah. Of course,” Nick replied. He walked past the concerned-looking couple to the kitchen. He didn’t want their voices to wake Deidre. He automatically shook Eric Reyes’s hand when Colleen introduced them.
He wondered what Colleen had witnessed on his face as he stood there at Deidre’s door. She couldn’t possibly know he’d been reliving the moment when he’d whisked Deidre’s sweater over her head, exposing inches and inches of flawless, smooth skin and graceful, sloping shoulders. The vision of her naked, lithesome arms had made him want to do something crazy. The bra she’d worn beneath the simple sweater had surprised him a little, it was so feminine and pretty. Deidre was the epitome of feminine and pretty, granted, but she was so no-nonsense, he’d have pegged her for being the practical-lingerie type.
Instead, black lace had encased small, thrusting, firm breasts. When Colleen had called out to him, he’d been fantasizing what it’d feel like to run his mouth along the edge of that lace and feel the warm, sweet swell of flesh against his lips.
He shook his head as if to clear it.
“You’re a doctor?” Nick asked Eric, who nodded.
“Do you think Deidre should go to the hospital?”
“From what I understand from Colleen and her brothers, Deidre is typically a strong woman. She’s probably just dehydrated and run-down. We
’ll get some fluids and food into her when she wakes up. You know what stress and grief can do to a person. If I suspect it’s anything more serious—”
“You’ll call me,” Nick said. He dug in his jeans pocket for his wallet. “Do me a favor and call me either way. I’d like to know how she’s doing. Here’s my number.” Colleen looked taken aback but accepted his card.
“I’m sure it’s just exhaustion,” Colleen said, “but I’ll keep you updated.”
“Thanks,” Nick said before he headed for the door.
He wasn’t sure what exactly had hit him as he’d stared down at Deidre as she lay on that bed, but he knew one thing for sure: he wanted her too much to control it, regardless of the strange circumstances...no matter the possible consequences.
* * *
Deidre awoke three and a half hours later to the smell of chicken broth. She sat up, feeling disoriented when she noticed she was just wearing her bra and pants. The vision of Nick’s fierce stare as he’d looked down as she lay in the bed flashed across her mind’s eye in vivid detail.
Other memories stampeded across her brain. Nick talking so coolly on the phone about her to John Kellerman. As for the rest, I’m not certain right now, she remembered him saying. She’d been moved deeply by Nick’s desperate entreaty to understand his position, but it hurt to know firsthand he still had his doubts about her.
She clamped her eyes shut in regret as she recalled the rest of their charged encounter. She’d fainted. Well, almost fainted anyway. She’d never fainted in her life. And Nick had taken her to bed and partially undressed her.
Once again, she thought of the way he’d looked when he’d stared down at her, his desire naked and exposed, a clear reflection of what must have been in her own eyes.
She placed her hand over her heart when it gave a strange throb.
After a moment, she sighed and drew on her sweater. She ran a comb through her hair and exited the bedroom.
“Are you all right?” Colleen asked anxiously when she walked into the kitchen. Her sister was standing at the stove, stirring the contents of a pot. Eric lowered the newspaper he’d been reading as he sat in the breakfast nook.
“I’m fine,” Deidre said, embarrassed. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your day. You haven’t been here the whole time I slept, have you?”
Colleen waved her hand dismissively and reached for a bowl. “Never mind that. How are you feeling?”
“Still dizzy?” Eric asked, standing and coming toward her.
Deidre shook her head, pausing when Eric reached to touch her brow. “I haven’t got a fever,” she said, embarrassed. “I feel fine now. It was my blood sugar. I didn’t have an appetite this morning.”
“I’ll willing to bet you haven’t had an appetite for weeks. Stress,” Eric mumbled as he stared at the clock on the wall while he took her pulse.
“This has all been too much for you. And you haven’t been sleeping well,” Colleen fretted as she ladled some soup into a bowl. “Sit down and eat this.”
“Yes, Mother,” Deidre teased with a smile. When Eric finished taking her pulse, however, she went and ate her soup like a perfect patient. She hated being perceived as weak. Seeing the concerned expression on Colleen’s face was enough to make her mend her ways and take better care of herself.
“I’m good as new,” she declared as she pushed back her empty bowl. She’d wolfed down two and a half helpings, much to her shock. Colleen’s cooking always had that effect on her, just like her mother’s used to when she was a girl.
“The soup was delicious, thank you.”
“You still need to take it easy and get plenty of rest,” Eric said. “You know as well as I do the way people can run themselves down after the death of a family member.”
“I might have slacked off a little bit on taking care of myself in the past few months, but I promise I’ll get strict again,” Deidre said quickly when she saw Colleen’s brow furrow. “I’ve been so preoccupied with Lincoln. It all caught up with me this afternoon, I guess,” she admitted as she watched Eric walk up behind the back of Colleen’s chair and stroke her sister’s shoulders. She grinned, happiness surging through her at the sight of Eric and Colleen’s tangible love for one another.
“Now that you two made up at the rehearsal dinner, I can see I’m going to have trouble prying you apart, aren’t I?” she asked the couple.
“That’s the plan,” Eric murmured silkily before he leaned down and gave Colleen a kiss. Deidre had liked Eric from the moment she’d met him a few nights ago. He was handsome, yes, but also aware of other people’s feelings and at the top of the bell curve of intelligence. She’d known enough doctors and surgeons over the years to judge that with confidence. The main reason she liked Eric, however, was that the man was clearly crazy for Colleen.
She cleared her throat as she toyed with her soupspoon. Eric and Colleen broke apart. “Did...did Nick leave after I fell asleep?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
Colleen nodded, suddenly serious.
“He’s a real puzzle, isn’t he?” Eric asked. “I got the impression from Colleen he was suspicious of you and this business of Lincoln DuBois’s will, but he was acting like he’d take on a whole platoon single-handed to ensure your safety when we got here this afternoon.”
“Nick was standing at your bedroom door like a watchdog when we arrived,” Colleen informed her quietly. “He looked so intense, I wondered if his stare could burn a hole through the door.”
Deidre’s cheeks turned hot. She knew precisely what Colleen meant about Nick’s stare.
“He’s an enigma, all right,” she said before she changed the subject.
Deidre had to promise Eric and Colleen at least half a dozen times she’d take it easy that night and get plenty of rest. The couple left at nightfall to go and pick up Coleen’s children, Brendan and Jenny, from Brigit’s house. Deidre took a long, hot bath once she was alone. At around five o’clock that afternoon, her cell phone began to ring. She tensed, dread welling up inside her. The response had been programmed into her since coming to Harbor Town. She’d been worried about her mother calling. Increasingly, she was also growing anxious about receiving the call about the genetic testing from GenLabs. She told herself she was being ridiculous. Surely it’d be a week or more before she received that call.
She checked the number and saw an unfamiliar prefix. She answered, her heart starting to race.
“Hello?”
“Am I forgiven?”
A rush of warmth went through her when she recognized Nick’s blunt, matter-of-fact voice.
“I suppose, seeing as you did your part to revive me,” she said, smiling.
“How are you feeling?”
“Embarrassed, mostly. That’s never happened to me before.”
“I kind of figured. You didn’t seem too happy about it. I guess it’s true what they say about doctors and nurses making the worst patients.”
She wandered over to the pretty Christmas tree and ran her fingers over some soft needles. “I was very compliant when Colleen fed me. I’m much better, I promise.”
“It’s amazing how the body needs little things like food and sleep,” he murmured mildly enough. Maybe it was her guilt that made her hear a hint of remonstrance.
“I’ll take care of myself. I honestly hadn’t noticed how run-down I’d gotten.”
“Neither had I. I knew you hadn’t had much of an appetite while you were at The Pines, but I’m kicking myself for not realizing how bad things had gotten.”
Deidre swallowed thickly. It wasn’t his job to monitor her physical health, after all. She couldn’t help but recall how Colleen had said Nick had been standing at her door like a watchdog.
A charged silence ensued.
“I’m sorry about shouting at you the way I did,” he s
aid.
“You didn’t shout at me. What you said was true. I need to come out of my shell and look at the bigger picture here. There are a lot of people depending on DuBois Enterprises. Lincoln would have wanted me to understand that.”
Was that relief she heard in his ragged sigh?
“I’m going to give you the number for Abel Warren—Lincoln’s personal attorney. He’s handling the will. He’ll be able to explain the details of the will and give you the information for how to access your funds. He’ll probably want to fly out here to see you.”
“No,” Deidre said quickly. “I’m not ready for that yet. I’d rather wait for the genetic testing before I make any moves in that direction.”
“If that’s what you want, but I still want you to have Abel’s number. He can inform you of your legal rights, Deidre. I’ll text his number to you, and you’ll have it for reference.”
Deidre couldn’t find a reason to disagree with that. It was hard to explain to Nick that it was daunting to try to plan a life that was precariously perched on shifting sands, especially since he seemed like one of the aspects that might change at any moment.
“Do you think you’ll feel up to going out tomorrow afternoon?” he asked.
“I feel up to going out now, to be honest.” She smiled when she heard his doubtful grunt. “Don’t worry. I promised to rest up tonight. What did you have in mind for tomorrow afternoon? Do we need to discuss something else about DuBois?”
“I’d like to get your signature for the Vivicor transaction, if you’re still agreeable. More importantly, I just want to take you out, if you’re up for it.”
Her stroking fingers paused on the Christmas tree. “To do what?”
“It’s a surprise. I hope you like it. Just dress warmly—we’re supposed to have light snow—and be ready by two o’clock.”
She agreed and said goodbye. His mysteriousness only added to her sense of excitement in regard to spending time with him. He may have been secretive about the details, but she was fairly certain about one thing.