A Night To Remember

by Gina Wilkins

  She couldn’t help wondering why he’d come with her. Why he was still with her. Was it only deeply ingrained manners? Had leaving his club with her been an impulse he’d regretted almost immediately, but was too polite to show? Was he now counting the moments until he could gracefully get rid of her, as well as the dog?

  Reluctantly she pulled her attention back to her driving. As tempting as it was to keep staring at him, she doubted that Andrew would appreciate a traffic mishap on top of everything else that had happened that night.

  ANDREW DIDN’T FALL asleep during the drive, but he dozed, allowing his thoughts to drift. He tried not to think about the events of the past hour or so, from finding the stray dog to his visit to the hospital emergency room. He couldn’t remember his painful fall without cringing. Served him right, he thought morosely, for feeling like a hero after using his karate skills in self-defense for the first time.

  Instead of dwelling on his humiliation, he thought about Nicole, and the way he’d felt when he’d first seen her. Danced with her. Kissed her.

  Nothing that had happened since had completely diluted the staggering effects of that magical midnight kiss. He still wondered what it would be like to kiss her in private, with no one to observe them or interrupt them.

  It was Nicole’s voice that roused him from his sensual fantasies. “Andrew? Are you awake?”

  He opened his eyes, suddenly aware that the vehicle was no longer moving. “I’m awake.”

  They seemed to be parked on a country road. There were no street lamps, so the only illumination in the vehicle came from the dim lights of the dash. Even with her skin tinted green, Nicole was stunning. He could feel himself falling under her spell all over again.

  “Andrew?” She sounded concerned. “Are you all right?”

  “Mmm? Oh, yes, I’m fine.”

  “You didn’t answer me. I asked if you’d like to stay here in the car and rest while I take the dog to my uncle.”

  He forced himself to pay attention. Glancing out the side window, he frowned. “I don’t see a house.”

  Or a driveway, for that matter. As far as he could tell, they were parked in the middle of a rutted dirt road, with nothing but trees on either side of them.

  “You can’t see Uncle Timbo’s house from the road. I’ll have to walk a few yards through the trees. He’s sort of a recluse.”

  “Doesn’t he own a car?”

  “He has an old pickup that he parks in a little clearing on down the road a bit. He rarely drives it. He sees no need to have a driveway to his house.”

  So, she was planning to tramp through the woods at four in the morning. Andrew told himself that nothing else could possibly surprise him today. He straightened in his seat and unbuckled his safety belt. “There’s a flashlight in my emergency kit.”

  “Are you sure you want to come with me? Your head must still hurt—”

  “I’m coming with you,” he said flatly, having no intention of allowing her to walk through those woods alone. “Wear your coat,” he added when he noted that she’d taken it off again.

  She nodded and reached over the seat to retrieve the garment. Disturbed by her movements, the dog lifted its head and began to whine. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” Nicole said. “We aren’t leaving you here. This time you’re coming with us. You’re going to love Uncle Timbo. And he’ll love you.”

  Andrew hoped she was right. He still found it hard to believe her uncle would welcome them at this hour, especially when he learned that they intended to leave a grubby mutt with him.

  Steeling himself against the cold air, he opened his door and slid out of the Range Rover. He winced when a sharp pain shot through his head in protest of the movement—a good night’s sleep was starting to sound damned good to him—but he didn’t give himself time for self-pity. Instead he walked immediately around to the back of the vehicle to retrieve the flashlight he always kept filled with fresh batteries and ready for any contingency.

  He’d always taken pride in being prepared for anything, like the dutiful Eagle Scout he’d once been. But he’d never imagined an evening like this one.

  Wouldn’t his friends and family be surprised if they could see him now? he thought wryly as the odorous dog bounded out of the Range Rover and sniffed happily around Andrew’s feet.

  Andrew snapped on the flashlight and turned to Nicole. “Okay,” he said. “Lead us to Uncle Timbo.”

  5

  THE DOG STAYED close at their heels as Andrew and Nicole stepped off the dirt road and onto a narrow path that led into the woods. Andrew had to support Nicole, who had some difficulty negotiating the rough ground in her ridiculously spiked heels. Not that he minded having her so close, he thought as she nestled against his side, her unbound curls brushing his cheek.

  They could just see their way, thanks to the moonlight and the beam of Andrew’s flashlight. After five minutes or so of walking, he still hadn’t seen a house. “Just how much farther is it?” he asked.

  “Not far,” Nicole answered softly. “Stay close, girl,” she said to the dog, who didn’t seem inclined to wander. In fact, the animal was looking around rather nervously.

  Andrew could sympathize with the dog’s uneasiness. Walking through the woods at this hour felt strange to him, too.

  Though he’d never been considered an especially imaginative man, except when it came to running a business, it wouldn’t have particularly surprised him to encounter a ghost or goblin this evening. Had he been just a bit more fancifully inclined, he might have even suspected Nicole of being a witch. A magic spell would certainly explain his own uncharacteristic behavior this evening!

  Nicole stumbled, and he steadied her with an arm around her shoulders. She fit against his side as though she’d been made to be there. She smiled up at him and his heart skipped in reaction. The moonlight did incredible things to her flawless skin and luminous dark eyes. His mouth tingled with the desire to kiss her again.

  He shook his head to rouse himself from the near trance he’d almost fallen into. Damn it, she was doing it again. Hell, maybe she really was a witch.

  “Poor Andrew,” she murmured, making him wonder if reading minds was one of her tricks. “You look so grimly determined to see this thing through. Couldn’t you just try to relax and enjoy yourself?”

  He made an effort to smile back at her. “Hiking through the wilderness in the middle of the night isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”

  “We’ll have to discuss your idea of fun later. I’m very interested in learning more about it. But for now, we have a fence to climb.”

  He wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “We have to do what?”

  She pointed to the three strands of barbed wire crossing the path ahead of them. “There’s no gate. We have to go over, under, or between the strands. I’ve gotten a few scrapes when I misjudged the space between them. I hope you’re current on your tetanus shots.”

  She knew very well that he’d been given a tetanus shot at the hospital less than an hour before. He inhaled deeply through his nose. “Okay,” he said rather grimly. “Let’s climb a fence.”

  Nicole went first, while Andrew held the strands of wire for her to duck through. Even in her swingy coat and tight skirt and heels, she negotiated the strands of barbed wire with a skill that spoke of long experience.

  “I’m very fond of Uncle Timbo,” she explained from the other side of the fence. “I visit him fairly often.”

  Andrew only nodded and stretched the top strand high enough to give him space to go under. He’d almost gotten through when a sharp, tearing sound made him groan.

  “Andrew?” Nicole asked in quick concern. “Are you all right? Have you cut yourself?”

  “No. Just ripped the jacket of my tux.”

  His brand new tux, he could have added. Tailored specifically to his measurements. This was the first time he’d worn it. He’d donned it expecting an evening of dancing and social interaction. Had he known he’d be fighting gunmen and cl
imbing barbed-wire fences, he’d have requested a more durable fabric. Kevlar, perhaps.

  “Sorry.” She sounded genuinely contrite. And rather amused, as well, he noted in resignation. Again, he had the sneaking suspicion that she was secretly laughing at him. He really was going to have to do something about that—later.

  The dog crouched low against the ground and scooted beneath the fence, then pressed close to Nicole’s side again. Nicole reached out to take Andrew’s hand. “Almost there,” she promised.

  He closed his fingers firmly around hers. “Good.”

  They’d taken only a few more careful steps before a man’s voice growled, “Stop right there.”

  Andrew froze. The dog whimpered and tried to hide between Andrew and Nicole.

  Peering into the shadows ahead of them, Andrew saw what appeared to be a skinny old man in overalls and an oversize hat. Moonlight gleamed softly, menacingly, on the long, shiny barrels of the shotgun clutched in the man’s hand.

  “Your uncle, I presume,” he whispered to Nicole.

  She laughed softly. “Yes.”

  And then she raised her voice. “Uncle Timbo, it’s Nicky. I’ve brought someone to meet you.”

  To Andrew’s relief, the shotgun lowered. “Nicky? What the hell you doin’ out here in the middle of the night, girl?”

  “It’s a long story. Are you going to invite us in and let us tell you about it?”

  “Well, come on, then. No need to stand out here in the cold.”

  Nicole tugged at Andrew’s hand to pull him forward. “You’re going to love him,” she assured him.

  Andrew only made a noncommittal sound in his throat.

  Timbo’s house turned out to be a two-room shack mostly hidden in a thicket of towering shrubs. It was surprisingly neat, if Spartan. Shelves of tattered paperbacks covered one wall. A battered couch, a wooden rocker, and a small round table with three straight-backed chairs around it were the only furnishings in the main room. The back wall served as the kitchen, consisting of a few cabinets hung above a sink, an antique-looking refrigerator and a two-burner gas stove. Through the open doorway to the other room, Andrew spotted a narrow, unmade bed, a chest of drawers and another wooden rocker.

  Two cats dozed beneath the table. Neither looked up when the stray dog slithered into the cabin behind Nicole. Nor did the dog seem interested in them. It seemed to be trying to fade into Nicole’s shadow, making Andrew suspect that the dog had learned to expect abuse if it drew attention to itself.

  Nicole’s uncle, who could have been anywhere from seventy to a hundred for all Andrew could tell, set his shotgun against a wall, tossed his hat onto a hook beside the door, and turned to study his visitors. Andrew studied him in return. The old man’s shiny head was thinly covered with gray hair that matched the stubble on his lean cheeks and jutting chin. His eyes were dark and piercing in their deep hollows beneath his thick gray eyebrows. Andrew got the impression that Nicole’s uncle didn’t miss much around him.

  He’d spotted the ragged tail visible behind Nicole and Andrew. “What’s that? A dog?” he asked, his voice reminding Andrew of a sharp bark.

  “Yes. She’s a stray,” Nicole explained. “She seems to be healthy, though she’s been neglected. I didn’t have anywhere else to take her, Uncle Timbo.”

  The old man nodded. “Let’s look at her, then.”

  Nicole shifted to reveal the huddled animal behind her.

  To Andrew’s surprise, the stern old man took one look at the pitiful mutt and melted. Andrew almost winced when it occurred to him that he must have looked much the same way when he’d first spotted Nicole at the country club.

  Timbo knelt with surprising ease for a man of his age and clucked at the dog. “C‘mere, girl. Come meet ol’ Timbo.”

  The dog whined, trembled, and inched forward, her anxious eyes darting from the old man to Nicole and back again. Patient, Timbo held out his hand. “C‘mon, darlin’. I won’t hurt you.”

  The dog sniffed the man’s hand, then his face. And then she licked him, her tail wagging tentatively.

  Timbo laughed, revealing teeth too white and straight to be natural. “Hate to tell you this, darlin’, but you stink.”

  The accusation was made with affection. The dog didn’t seem to take offense.

  “She’s very sweet-natured,” Nicole said, watching the bonding process with a smile.

  Her uncle nodded. “Seems to be. Needs a bath and some attention.”

  “That’s why I brought her to you. I didn’t want to take her to the pound.”

  A fierce frown crossed the old man’s face. “No. I’ll take her.”

  Nicole nodded. “I thought you would,” she said a bit smugly.

  Timbo patted the dog again, then rose to cross the room and fill a plastic bowl with water. He set that on the floor, rummaged in a cupboard until he located a bag of dry dog food, then filled another bowl with that. The two cats roused at the sounds of food, and he filled a bowl for them, as well, pouring cat food out of a box that had been sitting on the counter. Only when the animals were cared for did he turn to Nicole and Andrew.

  “Well,” he said, nodding toward Andrew. “Who’s this?”

  “This is my friend, Andrew Tyler. Andrew, my great-uncle, Timothy Holiday.”

  “You can call me Timbo,” the old man conceded gruffly. “Being as you’re a friend of Nicky’s. What’d you do to your head?”

  Nicole spoke before Andrew could shrug off the question. “He was hurt defending me from a robber,” she said, taking Andrew’s arm proudly. “You should have seen it, Uncle Timbo. Andrew beat up a delinquent with a gun who was trying to take my jewelry.”

  Timbo’s heavy brows drew together in another fierce frown. “You hurt?” he demanded of his niece.

  She shook her head. “No. Thanks to Andrew.”

  The old man stuck out his hand to Andrew. “Then I’ll thank you. I’m right fond of Nicky. Wouldn’t have wanted her harmed.”

  Rather embarrassed, Andrew shook the man’s hand. Then he couldn’t resist saying, “You should tell her to be more careful. Even when the punk waved a gun in her face, Nicole defied him. I wish you’d help me convince her that a handful of diamonds isn’t worth risking her life for.”

  “They aren’t diamonds, they’re fakes,” Nicole commented, touching her necklace. “But that didn’t matter. That kid had no right to take our things just because he had a gun.”

  Andrew counted to ten before speaking. “You were willing to fight him over a fake diamond necklace?” he asked tightly.

  She gave him a cautious look, then nodded. “It’s my fake diamond necklace,” she explained.

  Andrew let out a long, low exhale, deciding he’d better not say any more about it just now. Uncle Timbo might not appreciate Andrew yelling at his niece.

  Timbo gave a crack of laughter. “Kid always had more guts than sense,” he said with more pride than regret. “Give me a kiss, Nicky.”

  Nicky dutifully, and happily, kissed the old man’s lined cheek.

  “You’re all dressed up,” Timbo said, as though suddenly noticing her clothing and heels. He glanced at Andrew. “And you’re wearing a tux. Did you know you’ve got a bad tear in the coat?”

  Andrew only nodded.

  “Been to a party?”

  “It’s New Year’s Eve, Uncle Timbo,” Nicole reminded him. “Well, actually, it’s New Year’s Day. Almost dawn, now.”

  The old man seemed surprised. “It’s New Year’s? Guess I lost track of the date. Well, this calls for a drink, don’t it?”

  Andrew wondered at the rueful glance Nicole shot his way.

  “Sit down, sit down,” Timbo said, motioning toward the kitchen table. “I’ll pour.”

  Andrew and Nicole took their places at the table while Timbo dug into the cupboards and pulled out three mismatched glasses.

  “Have you seen Nate lately, Uncle Timbo?” Nicole asked as she slipped her coat off her shoulders and allowed it to drape over the
back of her chair.

  “He was here a week ago or thereabouts—I suppose it must have been Christmas. He adjusted my satellite dish.”

  “I’m sure it works much better now. Nate’s my cousin,” Nicole added for Andrew’s benefit. “He’s an undiscovered genius.”

  Andrew lifted an eyebrow. “In what way?”

  “He an inventor. Computer stuff. He has brilliant ideas, but he sometimes has trouble executing them. Someday someone’s going to realize his potential and he’ll be in huge demand.”

  “The boy’s young yet,” Timbo commented, setting the three glasses and a large mason jar filled with amber liquid on the table. “His day will come. And so will yours, little girl.”

  Nicky dimpled. “So you keep telling me.”

  Her uncle beamed affectionately at her and handed her a glass half filled with the unlabeled beverage. And then he poured a glass for Andrew, giving him at least double the amount he’d offered Nicole. “Good stuff,” he assured Andrew. “Made it myself.”

  While Andrew eyed the brew doubtfully, Timbo filled the remaining glass for himself and hefted it in front of him. “Happy New Year,” he said, and tossed back a third of his drink in one long gulp.

  Andrew watched as Nicole repeated the toast and took a hearty swallow of her own drink. She didn’t grab her throat or turn purple or anything suspicious, so he lifted his own glass. “To the New Year,” he murmured, and tipped the glass to his lips.

  The potent beverage nearly knocked him out of his seat.

  Andrew had never actually sampled battery acid, but he suspected that it would have tasted very much like the deceptively harmless-looking liquid he’d just swallowed. His throat burned, his eyes watered, his stomach clenched. His ears buzzed; he wondered if smoke was pouring out of them.

  It was, without doubt, the most revolting concoction he’d ever tasted. And Nicole was just sitting there, smiling and sipping as though it were sparkling spring water. Timbo had already drained his own glass and was refilling it.

  “Drink up, boy,” he urged Andrew heartily. “I’ve got plenty.”

  Andrew looked at Nicole with narrowed eyes. Damn it, she was laughing at him again. He just knew she was, though her expression was sweetly innocent.