by BETH KERY
“I keep telling her that,” Nick said, his gaze on Deidre as he forked a potato onto his plate.
Addy pointed at Nick. “Well if that boy, who knows horses better than Evan and I combined, says you’re a rider, then you’re a rider!” Addy declared, as if there was no point in further discussing the topic. “There’s no way you could look so much like your mama and not be a horsewoman. I still can’t imagine why Brigit never brought you kids to the stables, though. I never thought about it much, but it is very odd, isn’t it?”
Deidre stopped chewing. Nick neatly changed the subject.
* * *
“I’m sorry about Addy’s questions about your mother,” Nick said later as they pulled out of the McGraw Stables in Nick’s car.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. I had a wonderful time. How can you apologize for taking me for a ride in a horse-drawn wagon and then for the best home-cooked meal I’ve had in a long while? Addy could give my mother a run for her money when it comes to cooking,” she said, staring out the window of the sedan into the dark night.
“She’s a bit on the blunt side. I’m sorry if she made you uncomfortable,” he said, giving her a sideways glance.
“It’s okay,” Deidre mumbled. He came to a halt at a four-way intersection. Nick’s was the only vehicle within seeing distance on the desolate country road.
“Is it?”
“Yes. Of course,” Deidre said, laughing. She didn’t want to dwell on her mother when it’d been such a magical day so far. “I have an idea. Do you know what we should do?”
He raised his eyebrows but remained silent. Even though the interior of the car was dim, she noticed the subtle change in his expression. An electric, tingly sensation flickered in her belly. She licked her lower lip anxiously and stared out the front window, her heart starting to throb in her chest.
“Do you want to go Christmas shopping with me? I haven’t gotten my family anything yet.”
He began to drive again. She wondered if she’d disappointed him with her blasé suggestion, given the heat of his stare just then.
“Tell me where to go. I’m at your command,” he said, his light tone reassuring her.
* * *
She had more fun than she thought she would shopping at Harbor Town’s finest establishments—Dora’s Fashion Station; Health and Team Athletics; and, of course, the renowned Shop and Save, where they stocked every item on her nieces’ and nephew’s Christmas lists.
“You’re laughing at my expense,” she admonished Nick later that night as they left Health and Team Athletics. He wasn’t really laughing, only smirking, which Deidre was learning was the equivalent of roaring with mirth when it came to Nick. He only shrugged as he opened the trunk and placed several bags into it.
“That manager and salesman were fawning all over you like you were a movie star returning to her hometown,” he said, referring to two men in the shop who had recognized Deidre. The manager had been a few years older than her, and Chip, the salesman, a few years younger. She hadn’t recognized either man, but they’d known her. Both of them had lit up on seeing her, rushing over to greet her and tell her how much they used to enjoy watching her water-skiing shows years back.
“I had no idea you were so famous,” Nick mused, still wearing that small grin as they drove down Main Street through the light snow.
Deidre wasn’t just embarrassed, her cheeks were hot enough to fry bacon on them. She’d had no idea her summer job during high school and college would be so well remembered in Harbor Town. She’d taken on the lead role in a Mackinaw Island water show purely out of a need for money. After she’d gone to college, she’d refused to take financial assistance from Brigit. She hadn’t done a ski jump or—heaven forbid—been the apex of a skiers’ triangle since she was twenty-one years old.
It embarrassed her to think of Nick considering her as some of the townspeople did—a racy female daredevil in a skimpy bathing suit.
Nick had hired someone to investigate her past, hadn’t he? What sorts of photos had he seen of her, performing at water shows in tiny bikinis? It certainly might have been evidence that added fuel to his doubts about her character. He’d probably thought of her as the equivalent of a showgirl. No wonder he’d been so suspicious of her.
Had John Kellerman, DuBois’s chief legal officer, also seen those photos? Had Lincoln?
She blushed again in embarrassment, rising out of her thoughts when she realized Nick had put the car in Park in the driveway of Cedar Cottage.
He reached into the backseat and withdrew a manila envelope. “I hope this doesn’t kill the mood,” he muttered, looking a little regretful.
“Is it the forms you need me to sign for the Vivicor acquisition?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“It’s not going to kill the mood,” she said, feeling guilty again when she recalled all the accusations she’d made yesterday about him using her to get her cooperation. She didn’t really believe that.
She didn’t want to believe it. Not when she was so attracted to Nick.
She gave him a reassuring smile before she reached for the car door latch. “Come on inside. I’ll make some decaf and we can look at the papers.”
“You can contact Abel Warren, Lincoln’s personal lawyer, and have him advise you before you sign,” Nick said half an hour later. He’d just given her an overview of the transaction. They sat on the sofa side by side, coffee cups on the table before them. Deidre held the necessary papers in her lap. “Abel is an impartial party. He’ll advise you just as he would have Lincoln.”
She met his stare, a pen poised in her hand. “Lincoln wouldn’t have asked Abel for advice on the matter. He would have trusted your decision. That’s why he hired you to run his company.”
His mouth flattened.
“Is there some reason I need impartial legal advice?” she asked slowly. “I’m just agreeing to an acquisition that will benefit DuBois Enterprises, right?”
Nick nodded, but his mouth remained tight. He suddenly reached over and grabbed the pen and packet of papers from her. He tossed them on the table.
“Nick, what are you—”
“I don’t want you to regret signing anything.” He put his arms around her, and she gazed up at him in amazement.
“I won’t regret it. You’ve served DuBois Enterprises faithfully for years. I trust you to make good business decisions,” she whispered, stunned by the focused heat in his eyes.
“Business can wait,” he said. “This can’t.”
He covered her mouth when she opened it to speak. She moaned when she came into contact with his heat. All the anticipation, all the desire that had been building in her since he’d looked down at her as she lay in bed yesterday sparked and flared high at his kiss.
His mouth felt hot and persuasive moving over hers. He altered the angle of his head and penetrated her lips with his tongue, his hunger a palpable thing. She melted beneath his bold claim, stroking him back eagerly, sliding her tongue against his, thrilling at the tension that sprung into his muscles. His kiss was so addictive that she made a muffled sound of protest when he ended it.
“I want you. A lot. I know I’m just stating the obvious,” he said next to her mouth, the sound of his ragged male desire sending a prickle of excitement through her.
“I want you, too,” she admitted, letting her lips slide against his, caressing, kissing, nibbling. “But maybe it’s a bad idea for us to give in to it? We’ll probably regret it.”
“How in the hell could I ever regret having you?”
Something jumped in her stomach at the sound of his disbelief mingling with stark desire. Nevertheless, she grasped at rational thought, trying to gird herself against his appeal.
“What if you ended up taking me to court?” she whispered, meeting his stare. “You do
n’t think it would be problematic that we’d previously slept together? Not exactly neat and clean.”
“This whole thing has been messy from the start. Maybe we ought to embrace that fact instead of run from it.”
She stared into his face, looking for some sign of what was the right thing to do in this situation. She saw nothing but a virile, attractive man who clearly desired her.
He leaned close. “I want you to understand something, Deidre. If it should ever come to any kind of legal action in regard to Lincoln’s will, it would have nothing to do with you personally and everything to do with the well-being of DuBois Enterprises. Are you certain you don’t want to learn the business?” he asked her intently.
“Yes. I can’t even imagine it, Nick.”
“That’s not certainty. That’s ignorance of the task at hand. You’re intelligent. You could learn. I could teach you.”
“Do I have to decide right this second? Shouldn’t we establish without a doubt whether or not I am Lincoln’s daughter?”
He leaned back, staring at the Christmas tree with his brow furrowed.
“What?” she queried.
“I promised myself I wasn’t going to talk to you about the will today.”
Deidre chuckled. “It just goes to show you how money and power has a way of intruding into any situation.”
He met her gaze. Her smile faded when she registered his expression.
“I don’t accept that,” he said before he leaned over and captured her mouth again in a blistering kiss. She whimpered as his consumption continued. Their mouths fused, tongues and lips moving together in a warm, liquid friction. Her hand found its way to his collar where she delved her fingers through his thick hair. She loved the feeling of it so much, she let her other hand join in the pleasure. He groaned, low and rough, when she scraped his scalp with her fingernails. Deidre grasped his head, holding on for dear life as desire coiled tight inside of her. Nick’s words—and her own internal conflict—warred in the background of her increasing arousal.
This whole thing has been messy from the start. Maybe we ought to embrace that fact instead of run from it.
If it should ever come to any kind of legal action, it would have nothing to do with you personally.
She thought of all the bonds of love and friendship that had been torn asunder when the Itani and Reyes families had taken Brigit to court following the accident Derry had caused. Deidre had left Harbor Town by that time, but Marc had conveyed the brutal, heart-wrenching details to her. Courtrooms could become emotional battlefields.
She moaned, miserable at the idea of breaking contact with Nick. She did it anyway.
“What?” he asked, his voice rough and sexy.
“I don’t know what the right thing to do is,” she whispered.
She hated how his gaze became shuttered. Desire didn’t soften Nick, necessarily—in fact, his body and focus seemed to tighten beyond their typical readiness for action. What desire did to Nick was open him, invite her to enter and relish the pleasure of an attractive, complex man. Seeing him start to withdraw from her again, even slightly, hurt more than she’d expected.
She felt her grip on rationality slipping. He leaned down so that their faces were only inches apart. She inhaled the smell of soap and subtle, spicy cologne and felt her body respond.
“There’s not going to be a shooting star to tell you whether it’s right or wrong,” he said. “You have to trust me in this, Deidre.”
She swallowed thickly. Doubts assailed her, but his male scent dulled them. Her lips still felt tender and hot from his kisses, as if the nerve endings had been awakened and clamored for more pressure...more pleasure.
“You’re the chief executive officer of DuBois Enterprises. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t regret it tomorrow.”
“I’m a man, not a job. Like I said, there’s no way in hell I’ll ever regret making love to you.”
It was like standing on the edge of a cliff. Maybe she should have demurred, but her heart pounded with excitement.
And she was a diver, after all.
She gave a breathless consent.
Chapter Six
He moved so rapidly, so surely, Deidre realized he must have been waiting on a precipice of anticipation, as well. He stood, swept her into his arms and headed for the hallway. He ate up the space with a long-legged stride and kicked the door to the master suite open wide. Deidre smiled and laid her cheek next to his chest. His hastiness in the matter pleased her.
He set her on the edge of the bed. The light from the hallway spilled into the darkened room, letting her see his shadowed face. She waited, her heart starting to perform a drumroll on her breastbone.
He reached out and touched her cheek.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he said, his fingertips running over her jaw and neck, making her shiver.
“I could say the same of you,” she whispered.
For a few seconds, he stroked her and the silence seemed to press on her eardrums.
“You have the face of a rebel angel. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Thank you,” she mouthed soundlessly, stirred to her core by the rough gentleness of his voice.
He came down over her, easing her onto the mattress. His mouth settled on hers. She loved the feel of his weight on her. He was so hot...so hard. She drank in his elemental maleness, never before feeling the stark power of her own soft femininity than at the moment, because of the delicious contrast of their straining bodies.
He lifted his head, his hands encircling her waist. He moved, sliding her along the comforter with him until they lay on their sides facing each other, their heads resting on the pillows. His mouth continued to coax her, enliven her as it moved over her lips, cheek and neck, demanding and feverish.
She slid her fingers just beneath his shirt and rubbed. The sensation of his smooth, thick skin covering dense, warm muscle made her grasp both sides of his shirt and part them. The sounds of the snaps popping sent a thrill of excitement through her. She broke their kiss and pressed her face between the cloth, loving the taste of his naked skin, the texture of the springy hair on his chest. He made a low, rough, desperate sound.
He opened both of his hands on her waist, the gesture a blatant reminder of how much larger he was than her, how much of her he could hold in his grasp. She pressed feverish kisses over his chest. He slid his hands upward along the fabric of her sweater, plumping her breasts from below with the hard ridge of his forefinger and thumb. She responded to the erotic caress by tasting a small, erect nipple with her tongue. He made a muffled sound in his throat and covered her breasts with his hands.
She whimpered against his skin while he molded her to his palms.
“Nick,” she pleaded softly.
“I know. I’m going to undress you.” She helped him by raising her arms when he drew her sweater over her head. She shivered uncontrollably when he opened his hand at her waist and slid it over her belly.
“As soft as I thought you’d be. Softer.” He held her stare as his long fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans and he deftly unbuttoned the fly. The movement of his hand next to her stomach and pelvis caused a molten sensation to spread at her core. “Turn over on your belly.”
“Wha—” she asked, confused by his request.
“It’s okay,” he assured. He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her. She’d never felt so vulnerable—or so excited—as she lay there on her stomach and he began to slide her jeans down over her hips. She gasped in aroused surprise when he leaned down and pressed his mouth to the base of her spine.
“I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw it,” he grated out roughly as he kissed her tattoo; shivers of pleasure rippled up her spine.
He pressed his hot mouth jus
t above the crevice of her buttocks, and Deidre knew he kissed the base of her brilliant rose tattoo that included a golden caduceus spiraling up the stem. She’d gotten the tattoo in an impulsive moment a year ago in Germany. Until that second, it had been a private, secret indulgence. Or so she’d thought.
“When...when did you see my tattoo?” she asked in a strangled voice.
“I went into the workout facility at The Pines one afternoon a few months back and you were on the treadmill with your back to me. I saw it then—most of it anyway. I’ve been waiting to see the rest.” One of his hands cradled her hip as he continued to study her tattoo with his lips and tongue. She shivered in rising excitement. “You don’t wear much when you work out, Deidre.”
“I didn’t know I’d have an audience.”
“An avid one.”
She muffled a moan by pressing her mouth against the pillow when he slipped his hand beneath the satin of her panties and shaped one of her bottom cheeks to his palm. She’d never felt herself to be the focus of so much desire in her life. His mouth rose along her spine, kissing, licking, biting gently at the sensitive skin on either side of the vertebrae. When he reached the cloth of her bra, he flicked open the fastener so effortlessly, she blinked. Then his mouth was back on her skin, finding her neck while his hand explored the contours of her thighs and hip.
“Give me your mouth,” he muttered, and she twisted her torso. His lips found hers, his tongue a sleek, demanding invader. Again, she drowned in his taste, turning on her hip and drawing closer, seeking more...needing more. Her entire body was going liquid with desire. She felt his hand slide along her thigh and realized dazedly he was drawing her jeans off her legs. He broke their kiss and leaned down to peel off her socks. Her breath caught when he caressed her calf and lingered on her thigh. She panted softly when he lay down next to her. He raised a hand and slowly removed her bra, baring her to his gaze.
“Look at you,” he murmured quietly. Enough light flooded in from the hallway that she was able to watch his face as he examined her. He looked transfixed, his expression almost grim with desire. She shivered when his hand coasted along the side of her waist and ribs and then lingered on a breast. His hand covered her. Her nipples tightened almost painfully. He gave a low groan before he seized her mouth again. She fumbled with his shirt, baring his torso and touching him greedily. He finessed her sensitive nipple with his fingertips.