by Tara Leigh
That can’t happen. A week ago, I basically served myself to him on a silver platter—and he turned me down.
And if he stays here in New York, I’m sure I’ll do it again just to distract myself from the date on the calendar.
No, Bermuda is definitely a better option. And besides, spending a long weekend in a tropical paradise hardly qualifies as a hardship. Surrounded by strangers, I’ll be safe from both Derrick and Nash.
With a sigh I pick up my phone. “I changed my—”
Nash’s smooth voice interrupts me. “Jay’s waiting for you downstairs.”
My shoulders tense. “How did you—”
“Know you’d change your mind?”
“You know, no one likes a know-it-all.”
“Yet everyone respects a man who knows it all,” he says, a little too flippantly. “Now, don’t take too long, traffic’s a bear getting uptown at this hour.”
I swallow my rising irritation. “It will be faster if I take the subway. Jay doesn’t have to chauffeur me everywhere.”
“He does if he wants to keep his job. More than that, he’s going to sit right next to you in the passport office.”
“Nash, that’s ridiculous.”
“No. It’s non-negotiable.”
I’m fuming. “It’s been over a week since Derrick came to my apartment. I’m sure he’s—”
I hear voices in the background trying to get his attention, but Nash doesn’t hang up. “He was there yesterday.”
“What?”
“And two days before that. Attwood hasn’t forgotten about you, Nixie. Not even close.”
I cross my arms, gnawing at the inside of my cheek. Thinking.
“Please.” The word is like a soft breeze, caressing the side of my face pressed against the phone. A breeze with the power to knock me on my ass.
I capitulate. “Fine. But only because you asked nicely.”
Nash rewards me with that throaty chuckle I love so much. “I’ll do my best to be as nice as possible from now on.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me staring at my phone and wondering if leaving the country with him is such a good idea. A nice Nash . . . Jesus. My willpower is about as steady as a quivering spoonful of cranberry sauce.
Chapter 14
Nash
Just as Eva predicted, Jay hasn’t even come to a stop in front of her building before Madison and Parker leapfrog through the revolving door. “Uncle Nash, Uncle Nash—are you going to fly us to Bermuda?”
“Can I sit next to you in the cockpit?”
“I want to sit next to Uncle Nash!”
Scooping the twins into my arms, I buckle them into the booster seats in the third row. “I’m not the pilot, so I won’t be sitting in the cockpit. But I’m sure you can visit.”
Knight Ventures does business all over the world, which often requires sending a team of employees to far flung locales at the last minute to get the jump on a deal. Rather than buying my own jet, I invested in a charter company in need of cash to buy a bigger, newer fleet. The benefit is access to a private plane anytime I need it.
And if Parker and Madison want to spend an hour in the cockpit, talking the ear off the pilot and co-pilot, I’m sure it can be arranged.
But Madison is already distracted. “I know you,” she chirps, pointing at Nixie.
Nixie’s cheeks lift into a pleased smile. “You remember me?”
“Of course. You’re a princess, too.”
A light and airy laugh bubbles up from Nixie’s throat, and she brings a finger to her lips. “Shhh. That needs to be our secret, okay? I wouldn’t want your uncle here to get jealous that I’m royalty and he isn’t.”
Madison bobs her head, dark curls bouncing on her tiny shoulders. “Yeah, Uncle Nash hasn’t got any princess glitter on his face.”
Nixie turns to look at me, her face serious as she appraises my skin. “Nope, not one speck.”
“I do!” Parker shouts, pointing to his nose. “But mine is called prince pepper, ’cuz I’m a prince.”
Eva hands the last of her bags to Jay and slides into the car. “Are my children informing your friend of their noble lineage already?”
“She’s a princess too, Mommy. Remember?”
Eva glances at Nixie, head tilting to the side. “You do look familiar.”
I deliberately get into the front passenger seat, pretending to work through my email inbox.
“Yes. I was working in the ice cream shop—”
“Oh right, the one near Central Park. Is that how you two know each other?”
“Um. Not exactly.” I hear Nixie fumble. “We sort of bumped into each other downtown before that.”
“Oh. Nash didn’t mention it.” Consternation laces her words.
Nixie deftly moves the conversation back to Madison and Parker, involving the kids in her conversation with Eva. By the time we arrive at Teterboro they’re all chatting comfortably, although there’s enough tension in Nixie and Eva’s voices to hear that they’re still sizing each other up, like tennis players hitting balls before their actual match.
Eva darts off after the escaping twins as soon as we get out of the car, while I wait for Nixie. Noticing the blood drain from her face, I reach out a hand for her elbow. “Hey, you okay?”
She takes a shaky breath, her eyes fixed on something over my shoulder. “I think I put it out of my mind that I would actually have to set foot on one of those.”
“One of . . .” I follow her gaze, realization dawning. “The plane?”
“Yeah. I haven’t flown since the summer before—” She stops, swallows. “We went to Disneyland.”
Shit. I should have anticipated Nixie’s reluctance to fly, but it never even occurred to me.
Nixie’s eyes swing back to mine. “I don’t think I can do this.”
Fear of flying is common among those affected by 9/11. I’ve flown so often for work that my uneasiness has worn away. But my parents didn’t get on an airplane until after the twins were born, when making the thousand mile trip from Florida to New York every few months became too taxing.
“Yes, you can.” I step toward her, blocking her view of the plane and enfolding her hands within my own. “Once we get inside, there’s a glass of champagne with your name on it. And in three hours we’ll be on the beach.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t remember if I brought sunscreen.”
“I did.” I didn’t.
Her gaze seems to snap into focus. “Oh really? What SPF?”
What the hell is SPF? “The max. One hundred percent.”
A weak smile flutters onto her lips. “Liar.”
“I’ll buy you a lifetime supply of sunscreen when we get there. I’ll hire someone to follow you around with an umbrella if I need to.” I take a step backward, then another, pulling Nixie along with me. “And I’m counting on your help with the twins.”
“You don’t need me. Eva’s with them.”
I shake my head. “Eva gets motion sickness. In about ten minutes she’s going to be passed out cold on a Dramamine-Xanax cocktail. You can’t leave me alone with two four-year-olds.” My eyes widen, as if the thought terrifies me. I’m not stretching the truth about Eva, but Madison and Parker are seasoned travelers and will probably spend most of the flight interrogating the pilots and stewardess and devouring every sugared confection they can get their hands on.
“Are you lying again?” Nixie’s hands are trembling, eyes darting up at the plane, down to the ground, and then back to me. But with each step I take, she follows. Just a few more and we’re at the stairs.
“Nope, not one bit. Help an uncle out, will you?” I put one foot on the mobile stairway and then another, tugging Nixie up with me. With each step she loses a little more color, her tiny freckles growing more visible. Gold princess glitter.
“Mr. Knight, so nice to have you on board again.” I spare a glance at the stewardess, a pretty blonde, just long enough to confirm that I haven’t slept with her.
Thank god for small favors.
I nod. “Good to be back. My friend could use a glass of champagne, I believe.”
“Anything for you, sir?”
Madison is already tugging at my leg. “Uncle Nash, Mommy says we can have Shirley Temples if you say it’s okay. Can we, can we?”
A glance at Eva confirms that she’s tossing back her pills with a mimosa, and I incline my head toward Nixie. “What do you think? Should we get our little royal highnesses good and sugared up for the ride?”
“Pleeeeeeeeease.” Madison begs, sliding onto the ground as she stares up at us. “They’re my favoritest drink in the whole wide world.”
Nixie seems to pull herself together and rise to the occasion. Tugging her hands from mine, she puts them on her hips and regards my niece. “Hmmm. Are you sure they’re your absolute favoritest? Even more than milkshakes?”
Madison pauses to consider the question, wide eyes bouncing to the stewardess. “Do you have milkshakes?” she asks, as sly as a preschooler wearing a pink sparky tutu could possibly be.
The icy blonde’s cheeks take on a reddish hue. “No, I’m afraid we don’t.”
My niece blinks twice and turns back to Nixie. “Yes, Shirley Temples are my most favoritest.”
A laugh filters from her lips. “Can’t argue with a princess.”
“So, one champagne, two Shirley Temples, and I’ll just take a water for now,” I order, picking up Madison and buckling her into a seat.
“Thanks, Nash,” Eva says, her tone grateful as she takes the last sip of her mimosa. “I’m about five minutes away from a nap.”
I’m surprised she seems to have lost interest in Nixie already, but I know how sick she can get if she isn’t at least half-asleep by takeoff. “No worries. We’ve got this.”
She raises one eyebrow, no doubt a response to my we, but stays silent.
I clear my throat, slightly stunned myself. We.
But it sounds just right. I turn back to Nixie. “Take whichever seat you like, I’m going to get Parker.”
For a suspended moment, Nixie looks as if she’s about to say something, but then she drops into the nearest chair and fumbles with her lap belt.
By the time I get back to the cabin with Parker, metallic wings freshly clipped to his shoulders, Madison has unbuckled herself and is sitting beside Nixie, her little mouth releasing a never-ending stream of questions and comments. “Can I sit next to your friend, Uncle Nash?”
I’d been hoping to occupy that seat myself, but one look at Nixie’s face tells me Madison is taking her mind off the fact that we’re going to be flying thirty thousand feet above the earth in a fiberglass tube at least as well as I can, probably better. “That okay with you?” I ask anyway, selfishly hoping Nixie will insist on holding my hand through takeoff.
Doesn’t happen. “Of course,” she says, reaching over to help Madison with her belt, as if I didn’t just maneuver her onto the plane like a tug towing a rudderless boat into harbor.
I put Parker in the seat across from his sister and sit beside my nephew. Parker has always been quieter than Madison, silently observing the world through eyes that are the mirror image of his father’s. The mirror image of mine. He didn’t speak a word until last year, and just as Eva was beginning to research speech therapists, he began speaking in full sentences, each word pronounced perfectly.
The stewardess comes out with our drinks, and as I pass Parker his maraschino cherries suspended in carbonated sugar water, I see that he’s already fastened his belt. “Good job, buddy.”
Parker grins and gulps at his drink. “Safety first, Uncle Nash.” He looks down at my lap. “Do you need help with yours? I can show you.”
I reach out to ruffle his hair and then click my belt into place. “All set.”
Five minutes later, after the pilot comes out to say a few words and invites the twins back into the cockpit once we’re at a comfortable flying altitude, we’re speeding down the runway.
Nixie throws back the last of her champagne and takes hold of Madison’s hand.
“Do you want to wear my tiara?” my niece asks. “You can’t be scared with sparkles on your head.”
Nixie doesn’t respond right away, closing her eyes as the jet engines force the wheels off the ground, the nose of the plane easing upward. One hand squeezed within Nixie’s, Madison reaches for her pink tiara and transfers it from her dark head to Nixie’s fiery mane. Nixie opens her eyes, that golden gaze of hers pointed straight in my direction.
Damn. If I wasn’t sitting down, I would have fallen straight on my ass.
Madison is solemn. “When you’re not so scared, you can give it back, okay?”
Nixie lifts a delicate hand to her head, her full lips pulling into a soft grin. What I wouldn’t give to see her mouth occupied by something other than a smile. Almost as if Nixie can read my lewd thoughts, she quirks an eyebrow, her stare pinning me to the back of the leather seat before she reaches over to give my niece a hug, the bejeweled headpiece tipping precariously. “Thank you, Madison. I feel so much better now.”
Madison flashes white baby teeth that sparkle more than the pink rhinestones. “I’m a twin. I’m a good sharer. All my teachers say so.”
Parker has been observing the exchange in his usual serious way. “That’s not true. You don’t always share with me.”
“But you’re my brother, silly.”
“You should share with me the most.”
I cut in. “That’s true. Brothers and sisters should share with each other.”
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” Parker asks Nixie.
“No. I always wanted to, though.”
“Even if you had to share with them?”
“Yes, even if.”
Madison chimes in. “Uncle Nash had two brothers, but they both went to Heaven. So now Uncle Nash gets us all to hisself.”
The plain truth of her words eats at my composure like a vat of acid. I blink, glancing at Nixie who is just as taken aback as I am. Neither twin notices, though, and once the jet levels off, they happily leave with the stewardess to return to the cockpit. I order another champagne for Nixie and a whiskey for me.
“You lost both of your brothers?” Nixie says. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I unbuckle my belt and cross the few feet between us, dropping into the seat Madison just vacated and stretching my legs out in front of me. “Probably the same reason you don’t like talking about your parents. It’s hard.”
Nixie rests her hand on my forearm, the heat from her palm burning through the fabric of my shirt and warming my skin. Then she sighs, tilting her head to the side until she’s leaning against my shoulder. And for a while we just sit together quietly, lost in our own thoughts.
Except that, with Nixie, I don’t feel lost at all.
I feel . . . found.
Nixie
I’m flying. In an airplane. An airplane that could fall from the sky—or crash into a skyscraper—at any moment. And somehow I’m barely even thinking about the precarious position I’m in . . . because of Nash. Because of his charming niece and nephew. Even because of Eva.
But mostly, right now, because of what I just learned. Nash didn’t lose just one brother. He lost two.
I can’t even imagine.
And yet . . .
I can. Of course, I can.
“Nash.” His name is a sigh. An apology. A single syllable I’m using to express an entire galaxy of thoughts and emotions.
And when Nash turns to me, it’s as if he hears it. All of it. Every single thing I’m trying—and failing—to say. Because there’s a universe of understanding in his gaze.
He kisses the tip of my nose. “How does it feel?”
Amazing. Absolutely amazing.
It feels like I’m a part of his family. Like there was a small space, just my size, waiting for me. I’m not sure that Eva would agree, of course. But she’s been, if not overly welcoming, then at least polite.
But N
ash definitely has a place for me. We fit together perfectly.
And for someone who insists he doesn’t “do” relationships, Nash is putting on an Oscar-worthy impression of a devoted family man. It’s amazing how different he is from the man he initially pretended to be.
Where is the cold, heartless brute I first met? The man who wouldn’t bring a woman back to his own apartment because it was too personal? The cocky suit who was quick with a come-on, but slow to open up?
Because this man—the one sitting beside me who worships his niece and nephew, who stepped in to rebuild a relationship with the woman who broke his heart, who gave me a dog—he’s the kind of man that belongs in storybooks and fairytales.
Or is the champagne going to my head?
“How does what feel?” I ask, playing it safe.
Thank God, because Nash says, “Flying.”
I chase my embarrassment with another sip of champagne, the bubbles tickling my tongue, sliding down my throat. I haven’t eaten anything since last night and my muscles feel loose, the surface of my skin tingling. “I am, aren’t I?”
But when I look at Nash again, I know flying is a stand-in for something else. Maybe even everything else. Just like when I said his name and meant so much more. “And you’re doing a kick-ass job of it.”
I laugh. “You know, I like this version of you.”
“What version?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not going to explain it. You’ll say something dumb and ruin it. But I just want you to know, you’re a good guy. And I’m glad I’m here.”
Because of the travel requirements involved in bringing a pet to Bermuda, I left Kismet in New York with Nash’s assistant, Katherine. Her own dog died last year, and she seemed genuinely thrilled to have a pooch for a few days. I feel badly for not bringing Kismet with me, but I know it’s for the best. She’s still recovering from her encounter with Derrick, and fending off the attentions of two enthusiastic preschoolers would hardly be taking it easy, as the vet suggested.
With the twins happily occupied in the cockpit, and Kismet back in New York, I’m free to focus all my attention on Nash. We’re already so close, but I find myself leaning just a little bit further. I’ve always known Nash is attractive. I mean, it’s impossible not to. But there’s something particularly mesmerizing about his eyes. They could have been drawn by a kindergarten prodigy obsessed with coloring inside the lines, cerulean irises ringed by a deeper, darker jade. And once I start to move, gravity does the rest. Until I’m so close that Nash’s hand wraps around the back of my head, cradling my skull, and his lips descend on mine.