by Gina Wilkins
“The Artist Formerly Known As Prince.”
“Oh.”
“This is a good song, too,” she went on. “Do you like music, Andrew?”
He was still just trying to keep up. “Yes, I like music.”
“What kind?”
“Jazz, mostly. Charlie Parker.”
“Jazz is okay. I usually prefer pop or country. Do you ever listen to country music?”
He didn’t quite shudder. “No.”
“Too bad. You’re missing some great lyrics. Like that Clay Walker number from last year—‘She could charm the stars and hypnotize the moon.’ Is that sweet or what?”
Andrew might have thought the words were rather corny—before he’d met Nicole. But, as mesmerized as he’d been since he’d first seen her, she certainly seemed to have hypnotized him!
“Do you like football?” she asked unexpectedly. “I love it. I’m a Tigers fan—my sister attends Memphis State.”
“Well, I—”
“I liked basketball better when I was in high school, but now football’s my favorite. College, mostly, rather than pro.”
“I see.”
“Professional sports are okay sometimes, but they seem so calculated and businesslike on the whole. I like the enthusiasm of the college players. Did you play any sports in college?”
“Baseball.”
“I’d bet you were a pitcher.”
“You’d win.”
A bit smugly, she nodded. “If you had played football, you’d have been the quarterback. Or the star forward in basketball.”
“What makes you say that?”
“That’s just the type of man you seem to be.”
It irked him that she thought she’d so neatly summed him up after such a brief acquaintance. Especially since he hadn’t come close to figuring her out.
“Nicky,” someone called from nearby. “You look great! I like you as a brunette.”
“Thanks,” Nicole replied, then smiled at Andrew’s expression. “I was a redhead last year. The year before that, I dyed it honey-blond. I liked it both ways, but I finally got tired of touching up the dark roots.”
He eyed the near-black curls he’d been admiring all evening. “This is your natural color?”
The little dimple at the right corner of her mouth deepened. “More or less.”
Nicole Holiday was definitely not what she’d first seemed—in more ways than one, Andrew mused. And then she rested her cheek against his shoulder and his mind went blank again.
Andrew lost track of time as they danced and mingled with Nicole’s friends in the club. He was welcomed among them, yet still he felt markedly out of place. In contrast to Andrew’s traditional formal wear, the others were dressed more casually, more contemporarily Most of them looked as though they’d stepped off the set of a popular Generation X sitcom, making Andrew feel older than his years.
It wasn’t that they were that much younger, in actuality; but they dung to their youth, while he’d worked to downplay his own during the past few years, especially since taking over the top spot at DataProx. Even their slang was unfamiliar to him—there were times when he felt as though he was struggling to understand a conversation in a language with which he had only a passing acquaintance.
He was only thirty-four, he thought at one point. Why did he suddenly feel like an older uncle who’d been pressed into chaperoning a party?
He couldn’t help wondering if Nicole—or Nicky, as all her friends called her—was beginning to notice how different he was from the others.
If she regretted her impulsive invitation for him to join her this evening, she certainly hid it well. She still smiled at him in that way that made his pulse race. She touched him easily, and frequently, making him fantasize about more intimate touches in more private surroundings. She introduced him to everyone as her friend Andrew, making it sound as if they’d known each other for a long time, rather than only a few hours.
Occasionally during the evening, someone would ask Nicole about “Stu.” Andrew noted that she always reacted in much the same way to the name. She wrinkled her nose and murmured something unintelligible in response. Then she usually towed Andrew off to the dance floor, effectively ending the conversation.
It was more than obvious that she did not care to talk about Stu; Andrew, on the other hand, found himself wanting to ask her about the guy. Just who was he, and what did he mean to Nicole?
And why, he wondered, did it matter so much to him? He’d only just met Nicole, after all. He certainly didn’t know her well enough to contemplate a long-term relationship with her. He’d never been the jealous or possessive type—especially with a woman he’d known only a few hours.
So why was he suddenly reacting to Stu’s name with a surge of jaw-clenching, fist-flexing, bicep-hardening testosterone?
Rather concerned about his uncharacteristic behavior where Nicole Holiday was concerned, he tried to remember how much he’d had to drink during the evening. Was his judgment impaired? Was it safe for him to drive?
But, no. He’d had only a couple of glasses of champagne at the club, hours ago, and nothing since arriving here. Nicole had accepted a drink from one of her friends, but he’d politely declined, good-naturedly calling himself the designated driver. So if he was intoxicated, it had little to do with alcohol, and everything to do with Nicole’s smile.
He would have to start being careful, before that smile led him straight into trouble.
Announcing that it was time for a breather, the DJ played a slow, sultry number. This time it was Andrew who wanted to dance; he was growing addicted to the feel of Nicole pressed cozily against him. Something else he’d better worry about—when his mind cleared, of course.
She went into his arms with the ease of long familiarity, nestling her head into the curve of his shoulder. He wondered if she could hear the erratic hammering of his heart. If any other woman had ever felt this good, this right, in his arms, he’d forgotten.
He slid his hand a few inches higher on her back, to the area bared by the low dip of her sexy black dress. Her skin was impossibly soft, enticingly warm.
The images that flashed through his mind were probably illegal. He held her slightly away from him when she would have snuggled closer; it had been many years since his body had embarrassed him on a dance floor.
Nicole tilted her face up toward him, her warm brown eyes telling him that she knew what she was doing to him—and that she liked it.
Wicked eyes and an angel’s smile. He’d never anticipated how much that combination would appeal to him.
He suddenly had to taste her again. Needed to do so more than he needed his next breath. As if she’d read his expression—or his mind—Nicole rose on tiptoe to bring her mouth invitingly closer to his.
Andrew kissed her. And then kissed her again. And she returned the kisses with an enthusiasm that almost made him forget their very public surroundings.
It was with some difficulty, and a great deal of reluctance, that he pulled away from her when the music ended.
Still standing very close to him, Nicole reached up to touch his cheek. “Andrew?”
The husky murmur slid caressingly down his spine. “Mmm?” was all he could manage to say.
“I’m hungry.”
It took him a moment to change mental gears. “You’re hungry?”
She smiled and nodded. “Starving. Want to go get something to eat?”
He glanced around the dance club. He spotted plenty of drinks, but no food. “You mean, go somewhere else?”
She seemed to be swallowing a laugh at his still-dazed expression. “Yes,” she said gravely. “Somewhere else. Unless you’re too tired?”
Tired? He’d never been more wide-awake. His pulse was still racing, and every nerve ending was on full alert. “No. I’m not tired. Let’s go.”
It took them nearly twenty minutes to get away. Nicole finally said her last farewell—to Tommy, the doorman—and escaped with Andrew in
to the cool night.
Laughing and shivering, she huddled against him for warmth as they hurried to his Range Rover. With her so close to him, Andrew didn’t feel the cold. He was more likely to overheat, he thought wryly, wondering again at his atypical responses to this woman.
He bundled her into the passenger seat and hurried to start the engine. “It’s forty degrees out. You really should wear your coat.”
She only laughed and tossed her hair away from her face. “Probably.”
He drove out of the club’s parking lot and toward the main intersection. He glanced at the dashboard clock. It was nearly 2:00 a.m. “Where would you like to eat?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just cruise around until we find something that looks appetizing.”
He didn’t expect to find many restaurants open at this hour, even for New Year’s revelers. The usual twenty-four-hour places would probably be their best bet. Traffic on Poplar was still heavy for the hour, and some of the vehicles were weaving suspiciously. Andrew passed two unhappy-looking motorists who’d been pulled over by patrol cars.
He kept his own speed down, his driving careful, and his eye peeled for less cautious drivers. He had to make more of an effort than he would have liked to keep his concentration on his driving rather than his passenger.
“Nicole?” he asked without looking away from the road.
“Nicky,” she offered. “Yes?”
“Who’s Stu?”
He hadn’t really planned to ask the question then, but he’d known he had to ask since he’d realized the name meant something to her.
“He’s someone I used to date,” she said evasively. “It didn’t work out.”
“Did he hurt you?” Another question he hadn’t meant to ask.
“I was more disappointed than hurt.” She didn’t bother to elaborate.
“Was he the reason you left town?”
She shook her head. “I needed a change. And then I needed to come home.”
Before he could ask for any more details, she turned the questioning smoothly on him. “What about you, Andrew? Haven’t you ever had your heart broken?”
“Not broken. A little bruised, maybe,” he said, thinking of the discouragement he’d felt when he’d realized that his carefully orchestrated engagement had been a terrible mistake.
“Then you’ve never really been in love,” she pronounced knowingly.
His eyebrow rose. “And were you?”
Again, she shrugged. “Unfortunately, I was in love with an illusion, not the reality. When I realized that, it was easier to let it go.”
“So if you saw this Stu guy now...”
“I’d probably slug him,” Nicky answered promptly.
When he shot her a questioning, sideways glance, she giggled. “I said I’d gotten over him. I didn’t say I’d forgiven him,” she noted. “He was a real jerk.”
He smiled. “Oh. Then I’ll slug him for you, if you like,” he offered generously, confident that it would never be necessary for him to follow through on the foolish promise.
“Thanks, but I’d rather handle it myself. I can be a little bloodthirsty at times.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Traffic was thinner now that they’d gotten past midtown, which was still in party mode. He’d headed automatically for the Germantown area, figuring they could find a restaurant.
Nicky looked out the window. “This area is really growing fast,” she murmured. “A lot of these buildings weren’t here when I moved away last year.”
“When did you get back in town?”
“A few days ago.”
“Do you have an apartment, or are you staying with family?” He rather hoped it was the former; he’d have a better chance of being invited inside when he took her home if she lived alone. Damn it, he was thinking like an eager teenager again.
“Neither. I’m still looking for a place. I’ve got a room in a motel until I find something.”
A motel. He digested that a moment, wondering if she’d had no other place to go. “Don’t you have family in the area?”
“My younger sister’s a student at M.S.U. She lives in a mobile home with three other students. I didn’t want to intrude on Joyce and Norvell, they’re only distant relatives. I have a male cousin who has an apartment in the Pinch, but it’s hardly large enough for him.”
Andrew nodded, thinking that some of the old apartment buildings in that historic but generally impoverished district were hardly habitable. The neighborhood was still waiting for the great reincarnation and revitalization the city had been optimistically predicting for the past decade.
“Are your parents still living?” he asked.
“My father died several years ago. I always miss him at this time of year. He loved the holidays. He dressed as Santa to deliver our presents until he died. I was nearly thirteen then. Had he lived, he’d probably still be carrying on the tradition. Did your dad ever dress as Santa for you, Andrew?” she asked, sounding as though she were trying to imagine the man she’d met at the club in a red suit and fake beard.
He shook his head. “My parents never deluded me about Santa Claus. I knew from infancy that it was only a legend. Dad believes in facing reality.”
She was quiet for a while. Sensing that she was dismayed by his remark, he quickly moved on. “What about your mother?”
“My mother’s still going strong. She divorced her second husband last year and is now angling for a new one. The latest prospect lives in Shreveport, Louisiana, so she’s been spending a lot of time there.”
It seemed that almost everything Nicole revealed about herself made it more clear that she and Andrew came from very different backgrounds, led very different lives. She seemed to be the footloose type, in contrast to his own predictable routines.
Since he’d met her, she’d mentioned that she tended to be curious, impulsive—and bloodthirsty, he added, remembering their conversation about her ex. He, on the other hand, was sensible, practical and deliberate.
He recalled the moment he’d first seen her, when he’d had the odd, unsettling feeling that he’d just found the woman of his fantasies. He thought of his nearly overwhelming reactions to their midnight kiss. She had felt so right, so blissfully perfect for him. Now...well, the more time he spent with her, the less likely a long-term relationship seemed.
He wasn’t at all sure he was the type of man who would appeal to her on a permanent basis. Though he couldn’t imagine ever becoming bored by Nicole—how could he when he never knew what she was going to do or say next? But he couldn’t imagine that he would be as interesting to her.
Yet his initial attraction to her hadn’t waned. In fact, the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her.
Andrew wasn’t one to indulge in one-night stands, meaningless affairs or purely physical liaisons. Not only did they seem a waste of time, since marriage and family were his ultimate goals, but he was far too cautious to risk his health, besmirch his reputation and set himself up for potential ugly lawsuits. The women he’d dated in the past few years had all had one thing in common—they all had some possibility of becoming Mrs. Andrew Colton Tyler III.
Since he’d already accepted that Nicole was unlikely to be interested in that position, the sensible, practical, Andrew-type thing to do would be to pull back. Take her to her motel, tell her how nice it was to have met her, vaguely assure her that they would probably see each other again, and go on his way, writing this off as an enchanting but unproductive New Year’s Eve.
Somehow he knew he wouldn’t be following his own advice. And his absolute certainty worried him. Just what was happening between him and this woman he hardly knew?
“You’re being very quiet all of a sudden,” Nicole commented, making him aware that she’d been watching him as he drove. “Is anything wrong?”
He shook off his probably unfounded uneasiness and managed a faint smile. “No. We’re not far from a couple of all-night restaurants. Is there anyt
hing in particular you’d like to eat?”
“Breakfast food. An omelet, maybe, or pancakes.”
He nodded. “Sounds good. There’s a—”
“Andrew!” Nicky suddenly cried, stiffening in her seat. “Stop the car!”
Reflexively, he slammed on the brakes after swiftly ascertaining that no vehicle was behind him. There wasn’t another car in sight, in fact. “What—”
Without warning, she threw open her door. Before Andrew could stop her, she’d unsnapped her seat belt, leapt out of the Range Rover, and disappeared into the cool, dark night.
He was left parked in the middle of the street, staring stupidly at the empty passenger seat.
With a muttered curse, he pulled the vehicle to the side of the road, out of imminent danger of being hit by an unwary motorist. Then he opened his door and climbed out, wondering what in the world Nicole was doing. And asking himself what other strange things would happen to him before this unusual night ended.
4
ANDREW FOUND Nicole kneeling in the shadowy, deserted parking lot of an insurance office a few yards from where she’d jumped out of his vehicle. He couldn’t help noticing the way her short skirt had hiked up high on her thighs, revealing almost the entire length of her shapely legs.
He told himself he was simply concerned that she was too cool in her sleeveless, partially backless, practically skirtless dress. He knew he lied; the truth was, he found the scanty garment—and the skin it revealed—all too appealing.
And then he saw the animal. It was a dog, of sorts, though Andrew wouldn’t even try to identify the predominant breed. It was dirty and matted and shivering, obviously a stray and just as obviously in need of care.
Andrew was not a dog-lover. “Nicole—”
“Look at her, Andrew. Poor thing, she’s miserable.”
“Yes, but—”
“Heaven only knows when she last had anything to eat. And, oh, there’s a scrape on her forehead. It’s bleeding a little. Do you suppose she was hit by a car?”
“It’s on its feet, so it must not be too badly hurt,” Andrew said cautiously. “You’d better not touch it, Nicole. It could be—”