by Gina Wilkins
He frowned, wondering if he should take offense.
Nicole laughed. “There’s that serious, I-think-I’ve-just-been-insulted look again. I wasn’t slamming you, Andrew. It was simply an observation. However,” she added, sliding off the bed and onto her feet. “I could be wrong. Why don’t you show me your bedside manner and I’ll let you know what I think?”
His eyebrow rose. “I beg your pardon?”
Still smiling, she walked up to him and snatched the jeans out of his loosened grip. “Let’s play doctor.”
“I—” Before he could finish, he had his arms full of soft, vibrant woman.
Her arms locked around his neck, Nicole lifted her mouth to his. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know what that sexy striptease act would do to me,” she murmured, and nipped at his lower lip.
Her husky words went straight to his groin. “I, er...”
“Have I mentioned yet that you have a body to die for?” She slid one hand caressingly down from his throat to his navel, leaving a trail of heat in her wake.
His hands clenched at her hips. He dragged her closer and kissed her more roughly than he’d intended. She seemed delighted by his ardor.
When he finally lifted his head for air, Nicole stepped backward, toward the bed, pulling him after her. “There’s no reason we can’t see a late movie, is there?” she asked, her smile wicked.
Hopelessly seduced, Andrew shook his head dazed, “No reason at all,” he said hoarsely, and followed her eagerly to the bed.
THEY NEVER MADE IT to a movie. They did, finally, make it to the kitchen, where they found that his considerate housekeeper had left dinner in the refrigerator for them. Pasta salad, cold cuts and fruit—nothing needing preparation or attention. Which was just as well, because all of Andrew’s attention was entirely claimed by Nicole.
“I looked at a couple of apartments today,” she remarked as she poured cola for both of them.
Andrew’s own throat suddenly went dry. He reached for his glass and took a long gulp. “Did you find anything?” he asked after he’d swallowed and was reasonably sure he could speak lightly.
He was relieved when she shook her head. “Not yet. But there are a couple of other places I’ll check out tomorrow.”
“You know, of course, that you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. I’ve...enjoyed having you here,” he said awkwardly. And wasn’t that an understatement?
She gave him a brilliant smile from across the table. “How sweet. I’ve enjoyed being here.”
He cleared his throat. “Er...I couldn’t help noticing that all your things were gone when I got home from work. Were you expecting to find a place today?”
She shrugged. “Either that or I thought I’d check into a motel. I didn’t want to take your hospitality for granted.”
“You weren’t. I’ll help you bring your bags in after we eat.”
“Okay. I’ve also started looking for a job, by the way. I filled out a couple of applications today.”
Again he tensed slightly. “Where?”
She shrugged, apparently as interested in her food as their conversation. “A couple of places. Do you have any honey mustard?”
“Check the fridge.”
She slid out of her seat and buried her head in the refrigerator, emerging triumphantly a moment later. “Found it!”
“The personnel director at DataProx is always looking for clerical workers,” Andrew suggested carefully as Nicole returned to her seat. “I never get involved in hiring, of course, but I’m sure you could get an appointment with her if you call. She’s pleasant and approachable. You’d like her.”
Nicole glanced up from her plate to study him a bit questioningly for a moment. And then she nodded and looked down again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I, er, suppose I could mention to her that you’re a, er, friend of mine and—”
“No. Please don’t do that. As much as I appreciate the offer, I really prefer to find my own jobs,” she said quickly.
He should have been relieved. After all, there were many reasons it wouldn’t have been prudent of him to intercede on her behalf with his personnel director. But he couldn’t help feeling a bit miffed that Nicole had so summarily rejected his offer. She had no idea, of course, how difficult it had been for him to make it.
He pushed at his glasses with his forefinger and nodded curtly. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I will. Thanks.” She immediately changed the subject, commenting that the weatherman had predicted a cold front in a few days, which might even turn to snow by the end of next week. Measurable snow in Memphis was rare enough to be a novelty, but she said she’d seen enough snow in Minneapolis to last her a while.
Andrew wasn’t particularly interested in the weather, but he nodded and murmured appropriate responses to her observations. He didn’t really care what they talked about; he was simply enjoying being with her. Sharing cold cuts and a cozy conversation in his kitchen. A quiet, intimate interlude his former fiancée would never have enjoyed, since it wasn’t nearly exciting and glamorous enough to satisfy her. Yet Nicole didn’t seem to be at all bored or restless.
It was a comfortable, domestic scene that warmed him, made him feel completely relaxed and content. Feelings so rare for him that he hardly recognized them. He was aware that they could quickly become addictive. Which might have made him nervous, had he allowed himself time to think about it.
“Tell me more about your family,” Nicole suggested, bringing his attention back to their discussion. “I’ve met your parents, but you haven’t mentioned extended family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents.”
“My father had a brother, but he died without ever marrying. My mother has a sister who lives in Maryland. She has two daughters in their early twenties, I think. The youngest one was still in college, the last I heard. I haven’t seen them in years. My grandparents are all dead—my mother’s father died a couple of years ago. He was the last.”
“Were you close to him?”
“He lived in Virginia. I only saw him once or twice a year. I suppose I was fond enough of him. I just didn’t know him very well.”
Losing interest in her food, Nicole propped her chin in one hand and studied him across the table. “Were you close to your father’s parents? They lived here, didn’t they?”
“Yes, the Tylers have been in Memphis for a long time. I was quite close to my grandmother, who died when I was sixteen. My grandfather was a rather stern man who was obsessed with business. I didn’t see much more of him than I did my grandfather in Virginia.”
“Did he and your father get along?”
Andrew tilted his head to look at her. “Why are you so interested in my family?”
“I’m interested in all families,” she admitted with a smile. “If any of my questions sound prying, tell me to butt out. I’m not easily offended.”
“I don’t mind answering your questions. I just wondered why you asked.” He reminded himself not to interpret her curiosity to indicate personal interest in him—she’d just admitted that she liked hearing about everyone’s families. But he still found it rather flattering that she showed such interest in knowing more about him.
He tried to decide how best to answer her question. “My father and my grandfather got along well enough. They were both obsessed with business, both driven and ambitious. Grandfather died of a heart attack in his office. He was eighty-three. My father surprised everyone when he chose to retire at the relatively young age of sixty-two. He’s still chairman of the board, still spends several hours a week at the office when he’s in town, but he turned the day-to-day operations over to me.”
“And what does he do with his time now?”
“He’s a golf addict. He plays tennis and handball and is a tournament bridge player. And he likes women.”
“It sounds as though he’s enjoying his retirement years.”
“I suppose,” Andrew agreed vaguely, though he’d
never quite understood his father’s decision to retire. Andrew couldn’t imagine leaving the challenge of business behind at any age to pursue nothing more constructive or consequential than clubbing a little ball into a hole in the ground. Or chasing after a pretty face.
“Maybe he looked at his father’s latter years and decided he wanted more,” Nicole suggested.
Andrew shrugged. “I don’t know. He and I have never really talked about it.”
“Why not?”
“I...we just don’t usually talk about things like that,” Andrew answered lamely. For the past decade or more, his conversations with his father had all centered around the business. Personal conversation was limited pretty much to polite generalities. Andrew wasn’t particularly happy with the rather cool relationship he had with his father, but he’d never considered making any move to change it.
“What about your mother? She seems like the demonstrative type,” Nicole observed, toying absently with a strawberry on her plate.
Andrew almost winced. “Mother is more emotional than the Tylers,” he agreed, thinking of his mother’s frequent, vociferous condemnations of his father since the divorce five years ago.
“I bet she dotes on you, her only child.”
Andrew had to think about Nicole’s words. He’d never considered that his mother “doted” on him. She was fond of him, certainly, and quite proud of him. She’d cared for him, instructed him, advised him, chided him, bragged about him—but he wasn’t entirely convinced that she really knew him. Not his thoughts or his feelings, his hopes or dreams. Maybe it was because he had never been able to verbalize those things—not even to himself, usually.
He’d been told that he was not a man other people could feel close to. Not even his parents, apparently. Strange how he’d never really thought about that—until Nicole had caused him to view himself through her eyes.
He wondered how long it would be before she, too, found him too detached and reserved to be interesting.
For the first time he found himself wishing he were a different sort of man. Because of Nicole.
“You’re staring at me again,” she said gently, making him aware of how long he’d been gazing across the table.
“I can’t seem to help that,” he admitted. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
“Is that good or bad?” she asked teasingly.
He answered with total candor. “I’m not sure.” Again he found his feelings about her hovering between fascination and alarm.
She blinked. “Well, that’s honest enough.”
“I’m always honest,” he murmured.
She laughed. “Yes. I’m sure you are.”
Was she laughing at him again, or sharing a joke with him? He wished he knew. He wished he were the type to make her laugh aloud at something witty or outrageous that he’d said. He wished...
“Finish your dinner, Andrew,” Nicole said, reaching across the table to tap the edge of his plate. “I spotted half a pecan pie in the refrigerator and I’m ready to dive into it. If you don’t hurry, there won’t be any left for you.”
His mouth quirked upward. “I’ve always admired a woman of strong appetites,” he murmured as she crossed the room.
She looked around the edge of the refrigerator door, her smile decidedly naughty. “Honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
He promptly lost all interest in food. It was all he could do to get through the next half hour or so without attacking her. When she’d had her fill of coffee and pecan pie, he stopped trying to resist her. And she cooperated fully.
In that aspect, at least, they were beginning to understand each other perfectly.
9
ON FRIDAY, Andrew went to his office as usual, though with the same atypical reluctance to leave home he’d felt the day before. And then he blew a good part of his morning sitting at his desk, staring into space and thinking about Nicole. Wondering if she’d be there when he got home that evening. Remembering the dismay he’d felt when he’d walked into his house the evening before and found that she wasn’t there.
He’d never felt this way about anyone before. It bothered him greatly. For one thing, he was aware of how irrational it seemed after knowing her such a short time. Did obsession really strike that quickly? And was this obsession—or something more common, but no less unsettling?
He rather wished that there was someone he could talk to about Nicole. He went through a rapid mental list of the men he called friends and realized that, while he could imagine himself boasting of a conquest with them—though that had never been his style—he couldn’t predict their reactions if he tried to talk to them on a more personal basis.
What would they say if he tried to explain that it wasn’t just physical with Nicole—that it never had been? Or if he tried to describe the emptiness inside him at the thought of losing her, even though he hardly knew her in some ways?
It occurred to him then that he really didn’t have many friends. Certainly none who were close enough to bare his soul to, even if he were the sort of man who could make himself that vulnerable.
Ashley had said he had no intimates because he wouldn’t allow himself to risk intimacy. She’d accused him of emotional cowardice. Perhaps she’d been right.
He was damned near terrified of the things Nicole made him feel.
That wasn’t normal after such a short time together, was it? He wished again that there was someone he could ask.
His secretary’s voice came over the intercom, startling him out of his brooding reverie. “Mr. Tyler? Your mother is on line one.”
“Thank you, Grace.” He lifted the receiver warily. “Hello, Mother.”
“Hello, dear. I have a little favor to ask of you.”
Of course she did. Except to ask for “little favors,” his mother rarely called him unless she’d spent an evening with her bridge club. After hours of looking at photographs and listening to bragging anecdotes about darling, talented grandchildren, she often called Andrew and demanded that he provide her with some. Immediately.
“What favor, Mother?”
“You needn’t sound so suspicious. It’s nothing major. I simply want to leave Buffy at your house while Lowell and I are in New York this weekend. It will only be for a few days. She won’t be any trouble at all.”
Andrew groaned. “Mother, I really don’t care to baby-sit your dog. Can’t you put it in a kennel?”
“Of course not!” Lucy sounded highly indignant at the very suggestion. “She would be miserable in such a place. I usually take her with me, but she’s had a little cold recently and I don’t think she feels strong enough for air travel.”
Oh, great. The dog had been ill. If that hairy little mutt died while in Andrew’s care, his mother would never forgive him, he thought with a grimace.
“I won’t be home to watch after it, Mother. I really think it would be best if—”
“Oh, that’s no problem. Martha has already agreed to look after my precious. She’s really no trouble at all. Just a little food and water, a warm place to sleep, regular walks, medication three times a day, her favorite toys around her, a special treat before bedtime, her—”
“You’ve already talked to Martha?” Andrew cut in.
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to impose on her without talking to her first.”
Andrew managed to resist the temptation to point out that she apparently hadn’t had the same consideration for him. He sighed.
“All right, I suppose it can stay,” he said without bothering to be particularly gracious about it.
“Uh...when will you be bringing it over?” he added, wondering if Nicole would be there at the time, and how he would explain her presence to his nosy parent. Maybe he should offer to pick the dog up, himself. His Range Rover already smelled of mutt, anyway, and it could save some awkward questions.
“Oh, I’ve already taken her to your house. First thing this morning. When I left, both Martha and dear Nicky were fussing over my litt
le Buffy, and I knew I’d left her in the best of care.” An expectant silence followed the bombshell.
Andrew cleared his throat. “Um, Nicky?” he repeated, stalling for time.
“Yes. She’s a lovely young woman, Andrew. I quite like her. I understand she’s living with you now.”
Andrew slipped off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose between his left thumb and forefinger. “She isn’t living with me. She’s only staying until she finds an apartment.”
“So she explained. She told me how you simply refused to allow her to stay in a motel alone for fear of her safety. That was so generous and noble of you, darling,” Lucy assured him with a laugh in her voice. “I’m sure your motives were entirely unselfish.”
“I, er...”
Lucy chuckled. “Never mind explaining. I hope I’ve made it dear that I’m delighted. You and Nicky make a lovely couple. What beautiful children you would have together!”
Andrew groaned again. “Mother—”
“I won’t tease you any more, dear. I really must go. My plane leaves in a few hours.”
“Have a safe trip,” he told her in resignation.
“Thank you, Andrew. We’ll have a long, cozy talk when I get back, shall we?”
Not if he could help it. He’d already decided that he wasn’t ready to discuss his relationship—for want of a better word—with Nicole. Especially not with his grandchild-obsessed mother. He murmured something noncommittal and hung up the phone.
And then he buzzed his secretary. “Grace? Have we got anything around here for a headache?”
NICKY HAD FULLY intended to look for an apartment and a job that day. But she’d slept later than she’d planned—something she could directly attribute to Andrew’s energy the night before—and then his mother had shown up unexpectedly just as Nicky had been preparing to leave.
Lucy hadn’t bothered to hide either her surprise or her delight at finding Nicky at her son’s home. She hadn’t asked any particularly prying questions; in fact, she didn’t say much at all. She’d simply smiled and assured Nicky that Andrew was a fine young man who’d make some lucky woman a wonderful husband and father to her children.