by Tara Leigh
“Simmons,” I bellowed.
Katherine was in my office a moment later, not at all flustered by my strident tone. “Yes?”
“There something wrong with the climate control unit.”
She turned to examine the thermostat on the wall. “It’s reading sixty-seven degrees, same as always.”
“It’s a fucking sauna in here. Have someone check it.”
“Right away,” she said. “Anything else?”
I glanced at the papers covering my desk, the computer monitor detailing my daily schedule. I had back-to-back meetings for most of the day, and tonight Nixie and I were scheduled to have dinner with Mack Duncan. Katherine had sent him the press release announcing our engagement and he’d insisted on meeting with us socially before reconsidering my offer to purchase his company.
It struck me that I was worried about Nixie because I was legitimately worried about Nixie—not just because I needed her to prove to Duncan that I was a serious, level-headed man capable of taking over NetworkTech.
So level-headed I’d mastered the art of lying out of both sides of my mouth.
I swallowed heavily. There were very few people in the world who meant more to me than a business deal. All this time, I’d considered Duncan’s company to be a once in a lifetime unicorn deal. But I was wrong. I’d been chasing the wrong dream. Nixie was the goddamn unicorn.
There would always be another business deal, but there was only one Nixie. And every lie that crossed my lips made me less worthy of her. That was going to stop, tonight.
If Derrick had so much as laid a finger on her, I’d rip him apart from limb to limb.
Katherine cleared her throat. “Was there anything else you needed?”
I gave my head a mental shake. “Have you heard from Nixie this afternoon?” Ever since Katherine had taken care of Kismet while we were in Bermuda, Nixie and my assistant had struck up something of a friendship.
“Actually, yes. I called earlier to remind her of the appointment with a personal shopper at Saks.” She glanced at her watch. “Right about now.”
A flare of hope broke through my anxiety. “Call them. Find out if she’s there.”
Katherine pivoted, concern streaking across her face, and headed back to her desk just outside my office. Barely a minute later she was back. “Yes, she’s there. Should I have them pass along a message for you?”
A tidal wave of relief crashed into me and I grabbed at the back of my chair for support. Yeah, tell her to answer my damn calls. “No. No message. But call Jay and tell him that his ass had better be sitting right outside Nixie’s dressing room, and that further deviations from the plan will not be tolerated.”
Katherine offered a stiff nod. “Will do.” She glanced at the clock hanging on my wall. “And you’re wanted in the conference room in five minutes.”
“I’ll be there,” I said, pulling my chair away from my desk and dropping into it, the movement propelling me forward until I planted my elbows onto my knees, holding my head up with my palms. Fear for Nixie’s safety had shaken me to my core. I took a few deep breaths, calming my still frantic nerves. Nixie wasn’t with Derrick. She was safe at Saks Fifth Avenue, trying on outfits for our dinner tonight and a wardrobe befitting my fiancé.
As fear for Nixie’s safety gave way to images of her undressing, I groaned. Was this what being in a relationship was like—all these messy thoughts and feelings taking up space in my brain? It was awful.
My intercom buzzed. Was it time for my meeting already? “I know, I know. I’ll be right there.”
“Actually, there’s someone here to see you.”
Frowning, I lifted my head to glance at my packed schedule. “It’s not exactly a good day for drop-ins,” I commented wryly.
“I know. But I think you’ll make an exception in this case.”
I rubbed at my temples and sighed. “Who is it?”
“Paul Attwood.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Nixie
Walking through the vaulted lobby of the Ritz-Carlton, a shopping bag in each of my hands and several more carried by Jay, who had clearly gotten a dressing down by Nash for leaving me alone, I felt like an imposter.
Actually, no. I was an imposter.
But at least now I would be an imposter with camouflage. According to the stylist I worked with, she’d been instructed to not only find me an outfit for tonight’s dinner, but an entire wardrobe appropriate for the fiancé of Nash Knight, billionaire businessman.
Wedding dress shopping. Encounter with Derrick. Living out my teenaged Pretty Woman fantasy at Saks Fifth Avenue. I’d had quite the day already, and it still wasn’t over. Nash was picking me up in less than an hour for what Katherine had described as a business dinner. It seemed odd, given that I wasn’t involved in Nash’s business, but what did I know?
I just hoped that whoever we were meeting wasn’t as intimidating as Nash, or he might mistake me for a mannequin. We hadn’t seen each other since Bermuda, and the man left me feeling topsy-turvy every time I laid eyes on him. I mean, sometimes I had to remind myself to breathe around Nash. The air itself felt different, thinner, when he was near. As if Nash inhabited a higher altitude than the rest of us. My lungs weren’t programmed to thrive at his level.
“Where do you want these?” Jay stopped at the open doorway to my bedroom, half a dozen bags hanging from his wrists.
One glance at the clock told me I wouldn’t have enough time to put everything away before Nash arrived to pick me up, and I extended a finger toward the closet. “Just inside there would be great, thanks.”
After Jay had settled himself in the living room, I closed the bedroom door and kicked off the comfy outfit I probably wouldn’t be wearing again anytime soon.
Since my trip to Saks had ended with a visit to the spa, all I had to do was slip into the elegant crepe de chine blouse and the tailored skirt that was so chic I could almost believe the Upper East Side was my native habitat. A pair of leather Gucci boots with a dangerous-looking heel completed an outfit I never would have put together on my own.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I was grateful for the added boost of confidence the designer pieces gave me—so long as I didn’t fall on my face, thrown off-balance by the perilous combination of Nash’s proximity and four-inch heels that made walking a risky sport.
The finishing touch was a Judith Leiber clutch that had cost more than my rent. It was the prettiest thing I’d ever owned. I was stuffing my phone and a tube of gloss into it as I walked out of the room, straight into a wall.
Except . . . this wall had hands that reached around to grab my arms. This wall smelled like an evergreen forest. This wall had eyes with so many shades of green I didn’t have names for them all. “Nash,” I squeaked.
The corners of his lips pushed into an amused smile, hands sliding up my arms to rest on my shoulders, thumbs sweeping along the bare skin of my neck. “Hey there.”
Desire bombed down my spine, pooling inside my stomach and sending a shower of sparks zinging along every nerve. “I—I didn’t realize you were here already.”
“Yeah, just walked in. I sent Jay downstairs to pull the car up front.” His eyes dragged along my body, ending at my boots. “I take it this is the reason you were too busy to pick up my calls earlier today.”
“Um. Yes, sorry about that. I had my phone on silent while I was trying on clothes and shoes.”
He pointed at my boots. “Doesn’t look like you should walk too far in those.”
A strangled laugh bubbled from my throat. “Doesn’t look like I can walk much at all.”
His smile widened. “Don’t tempt me. I’d love to go all caveman and sling you over my shoulder right about now. Not sure we’d actually make it out the front door, though.”
My chest squeezed, forcing air from my lungs in a dizzying rush. I lifted my chin at the same moment Nash’s fingers pushed into my hair, cradling my scalp. His lips found purchase on mine, the soft s
weep of his tongue making me moan. I’d just about managed to convince myself that kissing Nash hadn’t felt as good as I remembered, but clearly I’d only been lying to myself. It was every bit as good as I remembered. Better, even.
Maybe because it didn’t feel fake. Everything about this kiss, this man, felt solid and true. Real.
Nash kissed me until I was breathless, and then he pulled away, his lips trailing along my jaw, down the curve of my neck. Wherever his mouth went, my pulse sped up, beating harder, faster. My Judith Leiber fell from my grasp, and I wrapped my arms around Nash, reveling in the tense, coiled muscles beneath my palms. He was hard . . . everywhere. The bulge pressing against his trousers stoked the fire building inside of me. I clawed at his shirt, bunching the fabric within my fists.
The bed was just a few feet behind me. Instinctively, I took a few steps backward. Or maybe it was Nash walking forward. Either way, we moved as one until I felt the edge of the mattress pressing against the back of my calves. “Wait,” I gasped, somehow managing to wrench my face away from his. “We’re going to be late.”
“I don’t care.” Nash’s growl permeated the fog I was mired in.
Pushing against his shoulders, I arched my back, blinking until his face swam into focus. Katherine didn’t actually give me any specifics, but I’d gotten the sense that tonight’s dinner was a bigger deal than Nash had let on. “This is important to you.”
“You’re important to me,” he shot back.
Somewhere inside my body, my heart was throwing a ticker tape parade. Balloons, confetti, a full-on marching band. I wanted to believe him, so damn much. And if he was really telling the truth, if he really did care about me, I couldn’t let him sacrifice a critical business opportunity just for a frenzied bout of lovemaking. “Ditto.” I ducked out of his reach and took a few steps on wobbly legs, bending to retrieve my abandoned clutch. “Which is exactly why we’re not going to be rude and keep your associate waiting.”
Nash took a deep, shuddering breath, running both hands through his hair and then squeezing his neck as he directed an incredulous stare my way. “You’re really serious,” he said, his eyes moving from me to the perfectly made bed dominating the room and then back to me again.
I stayed silent, not sure I could get another word out right then. Nash looked so vulnerable—like an adult version of Parker, if someone else had blown out the candles of his birthday cake. Finally he let go of the corded muscles at his neck, shoved his hands in his pockets, and gave a jerky nod. “Okay. But first, we should—” His words were rough, the frayed remnants of lust clinging to his vocal cords.
Pivoting, I walked out of the room. “Yeah, I know what you think we should do. And we will—later.”
I was at the front door before Nash caught up with me, his palm searing the small of my back as we stepped into the elevator and then the Navigator. Tension filled the interior of the car as I stared out at the crowded city sidewalks. It wasn’t always possible to distinguish the tourists from the natives, but on a crisp winter night, white lights twinkling from every corner and every tree, we were all tourists in our own city.
After a few minutes, Nash spoke up. “I wish your parents could be here for our wedding.”
Where had that come from? A slight shrug lifted my shoulders, not wanting to go down that road. If I did, I might not be able to get out of bed for a week. The entire trajectory of my life would be different if my parents were still alive. I’d missed out on shopping for a prom dress with my mother, and learning how to change a flat tire from my father. Countless goodnight kisses and morning hugs, bedtime stories and ballet recitals. So many moments, big and small, had been stolen from me, and from so many others.
If my parents were still alive I probably wouldn’t have been at the 9/11 remembrance ceremony this year, or disoriented by tears as I raced through that alley. With no inheritance, I wouldn’t be on the run from Derrick. And Nash wouldn’t have rescued me.
“If they were, we wouldn’t be getting married.” My one sentence rebuttal came out sharper than I intended.
A flash of something raced across Nash’s face, too quickly for me to decipher it, and then he angled his head away from me and toward the window, leaving me staring at the chiseled perfection of his profile. I drank in the view, knowing it wouldn’t be mine for much longer.
No matter how real our kisses, or genuine my diamond ring, our engagement was fake. For good reason.
Nash’s name left my mouth in a whisper and he turned back to me, just as the words that had been eating me up inside erupted from my throat. “You should be with Eva.”
He gave a slow blink, then shook his head. “No, Nixie. I shouldn’t. And I won’t.”
“Why not? You loved her once. Your brother isn’t coming back. And there are the twins to consider.”
“I have considered them. I would do anything in the world for Madison and Parker, and you know it. But marrying Eva just so a piece of paper says we’re a family . . . they don’t need that. They need people in their lives who love them, no legal decree required. I do, and I always will.”
“But Nash—” Before I could say anything else, Nash wrapped his fingers around my chin, dragging the pad of his thumb over my lower lip.
“Eva cheated on me with my own brother. I’ve forgiven her, I have. But I’ll never fall in love with her again. And I’ll never be able to trust her again, either. Not that way. What kind of life can you build without trust? Eva and I are family, we’ll always be family—but we are not a couple. We will never be a couple.”
Nash was telling me exactly what I wanted to hear, but could it really be this easy? Doubt was a drumbeat, too powerful to ignore. As if he could read my mind, Nash spoke up again. “If Derrick promised to be the man you thought he was when you first started dating, would you take him back?”
My answer came easily. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not in love with him anymore.”
“Because . . .”
I gave him the answer he was looking for. “Because I don’t trust him.”
“Exactly. Trust is like a keystone. Without it, you just have a pile of rocks.”
“You should have been a builder instead of a businessman.”
“Maybe. But I’m pretty confident in what we’re building now, together. Are you?”
“I—I think so,” I stammered. “But, look at me, do you really think I’m cut out to be your wife? You’re Wall Street and I’m Williamsburg. We don’t mix.”
“I am looking, Nixie. Since the moment we met, I haven’t been able to look away. And I hear there’s a bridge connecting the two.” He reached out to take my hand. “Which leads me to a question.”
Did Nash really believe everything he was saying? I was giving him an easy out, no hard feelings. Why wasn’t he taking it? “Okay.”
Nash cleared his throat, adjusted his tie. “How do you feel about kids?”
“Parker and Madison? I adore them. They’re—”
“No. I can see how you feel about my niece and nephew. I mean kids in general.”
My heart hurled itself against my ribcage, and I took a shuddering breath. “Oh. Actually having children of my own?”
He gave a curt nod.
“Honestly, I haven’t given it much thought.”
“I’d like you to think about it. Because, every time I see you with the twins, there’s a part of me that wishes they were ours.”
The color must have drained from my face, because Nash rushed to offer reassurance. “I’m not planning to kidnap them or anything. But I want things with you I’ve never wanted before. Never thought I would want at all, with anyone. And I’m hoping you feel the same way about me, too.”
Before I could gather my thoughts to respond, Nash continued. “Listen, there’s something I need to tell you. About tonight, about—”
Caught up in our conversation, I was started by the door opening. We’d arrived, a line of painted cast iron lawn jock
eys saluting in welcome. I flashed a soft smile. “Guess you’ll have to tell me later.”
Nash hesitated for a moment, looking uncertain. But then he gathered himself and stepped to the curb, extending a hand to help me down. With my heels, the top of my head was nearly to his chin, his mouth that much closer to mine. For a moment, I thought Nash would kiss me and I leaned into him, his hands running up and down my back in slow, reassuring strokes. But instead of a kiss, he spoke again. “I mean it, though, after dinner we’re going to finish this conversation.”
I eyed him warily. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Don’t be. Everything is fine. Everything is going to be fine.” For a moment I wondered if he was trying to convince me, or himself. “I want you to have a nice time tonight. Just be yourself.”
Myself. I wasn’t even sure who that was anymore. My life had been a hurricane, especially lately. But right now, staring into Nash’s smoky gaze, buffeted from the blustery wind by his wide shoulders, it felt like I was standing dead-center in the eye of the storm. There was calm, and quiet. And above, arching over us like a rainbow, were the words he’d just spoken in the car. Talk of a future so perfect it didn’t seem possible. At least, not for me.
I dredged up a cautious smile. “I can try.”
Nash’s stare intensified. “You be yourself and I’ll be myself. Just be two people who can barely stand to be in the same room without touching. Two people who can’t wait to get out of here so they can spend the rest of the night with more privacy and a lot less clothes.” I shivered as Nash cupped my chin, his thumb sweeping over my lower lip. “There won’t just be talking. There will be kissing, too. Lots of kissing.”
The electric current between us was a palpable thing, scrambling the rational side of my brain and making it impossible to think clearly. My body was responding to Nash in a way that was dangerous. Because my heart wanted to go along for the ride, too. But if the life Nash had just described didn’t pan out, I might never recover. “Are you negotiating again?”