The Twenty-Four-Hour Bride

by Day Leclaire

  “Ah, yes. The rye. Highly successful. Very promsing. So what brings you here today, my boy?”

  “Dinner.”

  “Wonderful!” He peered around expectantly. “What are we having?”

  “You invited us, remember?” Nick switched his attention to Ellie. “What are we having, Mother?”

  “Let me see.” She opened the refrigerator. “Oh! It’s Chinese tonight.”

  Hugh rubbed his hands together. “Good choice. Love Chinese. Sweet and sour pork is my favorite. Is there any pork, Ellie?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  Dani stood, silent and confused, listening to the bewildering exchange. Finally she couldn’t take any more. “I don’t understand any of this,” she announced to the room at large.

  Hugh offered a reproving frown. “Aren’t academics strong in your family, my dear?”

  “Apparently not strong enough. What I mean is, you seem to think we’ve met before.” She glared at Nick. “We haven’t. I’m Nick’s wife. I think he neglected to mention that part. You don’t remember our wedding because you weren’t there.”

  “Well, of course not,” Hugh retorted indignantly. “Not if it was during our experiments with rye.”

  “What I mean is... This is the first time we’ve met. Ever. You don’t know me and I don’t know any of you. Well, except for Nick and Abigail.”

  “Abigail?” Ellie glanced around. “Who’s she?”

  Dani held out her armful, thought better of it and cradled the baby protectively against her breast. “Your granddaughter.”

  “We have a granddaughter?” Hugh demanded. “I don’t remember any granddaughter. When did that happen?”

  “Last month,” Nick supplied, opening cupboards and removing plates. “I called you about it.”

  “I haven’t checked the machine for a while,” Ellie said. “We probably haven’t heard the news yet.”

  Nick paused to confront his mother. “If you didn’t get my message, then why did you invite us to dinner?”

  “Because it’s a blue moon, of course,” she stated blithely.

  To Dani’s relief, even Nick seemed bewildered by that one. Thank heaven it wasn’t just her. “A blue moon,” he repeated.

  “Right. The second occurrence of a full moon in one month, to be exact. Last time you visited you said we should get together then. I specifically noted it on my calendar. Tonight will be a blue moon, so I called.”

  An odd sound rumbled in his throat. “I said we only get together once in a blue moon. It was meant as a criticism, Mother.” He took a deep breath, and to Dani’s concern, all expression slid from his face.

  “Abigail... Abigail... One more minute and I’ll have it.” Hugh’s brows met over a prominent nose. “I’m almost there.”

  Distracted, Dani looked at him. “Do you know what everyone’s name means?”

  “But of course. Hugh, thought. Nick, victory. And • Eloise.” He smiled at his wife. “She’s my very wise one.”

  “Dad has a photographic memory,” Nick explained. “There isn’t a list he hasn’t memorized. It’s just unimportant details that tend to escape him.”

  She caught her lip between her teeth. Was tonight’s dinner one of those unimportant details? Judging by Nick’s empty expression, it would seem so. “What can I do to help?”

  If he caught the secondary meaning behind her question, he ignored it. “Why don’t you put Abigail. in her car seat and join us in the dining room. We’ll get the table ready.”

  Hugh heaved a great sigh. “Ah, yes. ‘My father rejoices.’ Excellent choice. Is it a family name, Danielle?”

  Her heart gave an odd lurch, and her gaze clashed with Nick’s. “No,” she said slowly, remembering her husband’s words the first time he’d held his daughter. “It’s just a name,” he’d said. “Nick chose it.”

  “Well, now you know why.” Hugh nodded his approval. “I’m not the only one with a photographic memory, my dear. Stands to reason he’d choose a name that meant something.”

  “Nick?”

  He didn’t say anything in response. Not a word. No expression. No emotion. Nothing.

  But it was a lie. Every bit of it. How could she not have realized before?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “NICK—”

  “This isn’t a good time, Dani. We’ll discuss it later.” His eyes held a curious blankness, as though they were focused inward, staring at some private landscape only he could see. “Would you mind getting Abigail’s car seat?”

  It seemed easier to agree than to argue, especially at this juncture. But she fully intended to tackle him about Abigail’s name at a later date. It struck her as too important to ignore. By the time she’d done as he requested, the others had assembled in the dining room. Nick poured wine into glasses, the elaborate cut crystal sitting incongruously alongside the boxes of take-out. Knowing she preferred to avoid alcohol while nursing, he’d given her bottled water.

  “I didn’t think to buy any fruit juice. Sorry.”

  She didn’t want him to apologize. Not for anything—not for the odd house, not for their odd reception, nor for the oddest element of all, his parents. “Water is fine.”

  “So, tell us what you do, Dani,” Ellie requested.

  “Right now I’m concentrating on motherhood. But for the past five years I’ve worked for SSI.”

  “What’s that?”

  They didn’t know about SSI? She frowned. “That’s... that’s Nick’s company—Security Systems International.”

  “Oh, right. Computers. Do you program computers, as well?”

  “No. They pretty much defeat me. I’m in sales.”

  “I see. You sell computers.”

  “No, I—”

  “How do you sell computers if they defeat you?” Hugh questioned abruptly.

  Dani took a quick gulp of water. “You don’t understand. I sell security systems.”

  “I thought you said you sell computers.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  She directed a harried look in Nick’s direction, annoyed when he lifted his glass in a sardonic salute. “Good luck,” he mouthed.

  Determined to set his parents straight, she explained, “I sell security systems run by a computer.”

  “She sells alarms, dear.” Ellie spooned rice from one of the cartons. “Like the one Nick installed in the lab so we’d know when he needed us.”

  Dani tried again. “They’re a little more sophisticated than that. They’d have to be, to sell in such a competitive market. But we’ve done quite well. SSI is an international business, known around the world.”

  “International, huh?” Hugh mulled it over. “Don’t your alarms sell domestically?”

  Dani dropped her fork into the moo goo gai pan and glared. “Yes, they sell domestically. We have a lot of domestic clients.”

  “A damn shame you’ve had such limited success. Well, at least you tried.”

  “That’s not what I—” she leaned across the table and spoke in a loud, clear voice. “SSI is very successful. Nick is very successful.”

  “You’re his wife. Of course you’d say that.”

  “And they’re not alarm systems. They’re security systems. There’s a big difference.”

  “I’d think it would be easier to sell alarms,” Hugh replied. “Simple to install.”

  “And they run off batteries.” Ellie cocked her head. “Does your system run off batteries?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Well, there you are, my dear.” Hugh speared a cube of pork. “Alarms are easy to use. And affordable. A product has to be affordable, you know.”

  “Our systems sell like hotcakes!”

  “Don’t exaggerate, sweetheart.” Nick spoke for the first time. “I suspect hotcakes sell much better.”

  Hugh nodded. “Very popular, hotcakes. Practically sell themselves.”

  “So does our security system! And I can sell them because Nick is so brilliant. I’m
actually selling him.”

  “His IQ is remarkably high,” Ellie conceded. “Just tipped the scales into genius, as I recall. Too bad he didn’t go into biology.”

  “Or chemical engineering.”

  “He invented a computer program that thinks! Gem is an unbelievable accomplishment.” Dani’s chin wobbled. “Aren’t you proud of him? Don’t you care?”

  “You’re a passionate little thing. Not terribly logical, though.” Her father-in-law smiled sympathetically. “We’re not criticizing Nick, my dear. We’re simply discussing his achievements—or lack thereof.”

  Dani shoved her plate to one side, her appetite gone. “For your information, your son is so clever and has sold so many systems, he’s a damned billionaire.”

  “I don’t think so,” Hugh said kindly. “I suspect you’ve put your decimal in the wrong spot. Move it over three or four places and you’ll be closer to the mark.”

  “He is too a billionaire. Aren’t you, Nick?”

  “I used to be a billionaire. I told you, business is off right now. I’m now just a measly old millionaire. I barely rate a mention in Men with the Most Bucks.”

  “Why aren’t you defending yourself?” Her voice had grown husky and ripe with bewildered pain.

  He took a sip of wine, his gaze surprisingly gentle. “What’s the point?” he said at last.

  Tears started in her eyes and clung to the ends of her lashes. In another minute, she’d thoroughly disgrace herself. “Now look what you’ve done!” She threw her linen napkin onto the table. “You’ve made Abigail cry.”

  She swept the sleeping baby into her arms and retreated to the parlor. It was time to nurse, anyway, assuming she could calm down enough to accomplish the feat. Unbuttoning her blouse, she found herself longing for Kenny G’s soothing saxophone for the first time in weeks. Somewhere deep in the house an alarm rang. She heard the scrape of chairs and the murmur of voices, followed by stark silence. She shut her eyes and struggled to relax. Not that it did any good. Abigail whimpered.

  “You and me both, sweet pea,” Dani murmured unhappily.

  The next instant she felt the couch dip beside her, then warm hands cupped her shoulders. “Relax.”

  She sniffed. “I don’t think I can.”

  “I’ll help. Lean against me.”

  The minute she’d done so, he eased her and Abigail onto his lap. She dropped her head to his shoulder and sighed. “No music?”

  “I haven’t installed Gem over here. She wouldn’t like living here, and my parents wouldn’t enjoy having her.”

  “I’m with Gem.” Then, realizing she’d been overly critical, she apologized. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  “Nick—”

  “Forget about it, Dani. I shouldn’t have brought you. My parents... They take some getting used to.”

  “But—”

  “Let it go. If you keep worrying, you won’t be able to nurse.”

  She nodded, her cheek brushing against the fine cotton of his shirt. He felt warm and solid and utterly calm. Her tension eased slightly. “Everything seems to get clogged whenever I’m upset,” she confided.

  “I know.” His hand slipped under her hair, and he rested his chin on the top of her head. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

  “Where are your parents?” She made a face. Apparently she couldn’t drop the subject. At least not yet.

  “They went back to the lab.”

  “Oh.” She peeked up at him. “Was it my fault?”

  “No. Didn’t you hear the buzzer? Their latest experiment is at a crucial point. They had to get downstairs.”

  “Oh,” she said again. And then, “Did that happen a lot when you were growing up?”

  “I was a very independent child.”

  “Out of choice...or out of necessity?”

  Nick pushed a tumble of dark curls from her forehead. “Does it matter?”

  He said it so stoically, with such utter fatalism, it took everything she had to respond with a matching tranquility. “If it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t ask.”

  His sigh emanated from a spot deep inside, from a place she suspected had long ago been protectively encased in ice. “My parents have always been very involved in their experiments. As a result, they didn’t have a lot of spare time. I learned early on that the fastest and easiest way to get something done was to do it myself. Does that answer your question?”

  Her brow wrinkled, and she swung her foot back and forth. It must have been a very different existence from the one she’d experienced. With so many brothers and sisters demanding attention, her parents couldn’t have escaped to a basement retreat even if they’d wanted to. They were constantly on the run, chauffeuring kids to dance recitals and sporting events and school—Her frown deepened.

  “How many of your school activities did Hugh and Ellie make?”

  “Don’t, Dani. There’s no point.”

  “How many, Nick?”

  “They came to some.” A rough laugh rumbled deep in his chest. “They just showed up a little late.”

  The hand not holding Abbey caught his shirt and curled into the soft cotton. “Like at our wedding?” she whispered. “That sort of late?”

  “Yeah.”

  Just that one word. But it told her everything she needed to know. She could picture it. Every bit of it. A lean, towheaded boy with needy eyes and an oddly closed expression. He’d come home from school to an overgrown yard and a dark house. It probably took all his strength to shove open the front door. And inside he’d find...silence. No lights, no appetizing odors from the kitchen. Just a refrigerator full of chemicals, experiments and mold, and parents who spent their lives in the basement. If hunger struck, he’d fix himself a meal. If he needed help with his homework, he’d ask a neighbor. And if he longed for a hug or a pat on the back? What then?

  She screwed her eyes shut against the pain, unable to stop the path of her thoughts. When Nick was still a child, he’d installed an alarm. If his need for attention grew desperate enough, he’d push a button. She doubted he’d often given in to the lure of that button. But once he had, he’d undoubtedly been forced to wait. He’d stand by the steps leading to a dark, sealed basement. And wait. He’d probably spent a lifetime waiting. Always waiting. Forever disappointed.

  An image filled her mind. An image of Nick on their wedding day. He’d hesitated in the doorway between the corridor and the judge’s chambers, delaying the ceremony. Hoping against hope that his parents would come?

  This time she couldn’t stop the tears.

  He tensed, every muscle rigid. “I don’t want your pity, Dani. I don’t want it, nor do I need it.”

  “What do you need?”

  “This.”

  His mouth closed on hers, parting her lips with gentle insistence. This was a far different give and take than the exchange in his office. The spark that day had been fast and almost painfully hot. Desire had raged, coiling and twisting tighter and tighter until it had been almost impossible to stop. But this kiss was unique.

  It was tender instead of hard, a benediction instead of a demand. Nick’s arms held her and their daughter with exquisite care, his mouth tasting of wine and ginger. With a soft sigh, she dropped her head to his shoulder and relaxed into his embrace, the stress generated from dinner slipping away. He pushed her shirt open and palmed her milk-laden breast, his thumb stroking the sensitive tip. It was the most erotic moment she’d ever experienced, and her response was as instantaneous as it was unmistakable. A familiar tingle shot through her veins, and his hand grew moist.

  “You’re milk’s come in.” Satisfaction lit his words, and he cupped Abigail’s head, lifting her toward the source of her nourishment. “There you go, sweet pea. Dinner’s on.”

  Dani closed her eyes, more comfortable than she could have believed possible. She nestled deeper into Nick’s embrace, a wistful thought disturbing the pleasure of the moment. How co
uld she turn this fantasy into reality? She had a husband and a child—she should be satisfied. Instead, she yearned for more. She wanted a real marriage and a husband she could trust. But more than that...

  She wanted love.

  Nick’s love.

  Her breath stopped, and in that instant the terrifying truth struck. No. Oh, no, no, no. She wanted the marriage to become a reality because somehow, at some point, she’d fallen in love with her husband. Totally. Irrevocably. And forever. Her anger at his parents and her concern for his well-being stemmed from love. But her fear of living with him and her fight to hold him at a distance stemmed from fear—fear that once again, she’d opened her heart and soul to a man unable to return her feelings. Only this time she wouldn’t escape relatively unscathed, as she had with Peter. If Nick couldn’t love her, she’d pay a heavy price. She’d pay the ultimate price.

  Nick made sure the front door to his parents’ house was securely locked. Satisfied, he stood on the porch for a brief moment and surveyed the desolate front yard. It hadn’t changed in years. Once, long ago, he’d made a stab at turning the brown, weed-choked garden into something green and living. But it had been a fruitless pursuit. The ground had refused to yield to him.

  “Nick, are you coming?”

  His gaze lifted from the barren yard. Through the cold iron gate he could see Dani. She waved at him and then leaned into the car, strapping Abigail’s carrier into the back seat. A very attractive backside waggled back and forth and for an instant time seemed to slow.

  Behind him rose his childhood home, darkly outlined against a dusky fall sky. And as he stood there a solitary leaf drifted before his eyes, trembling within the grip of a brisk wind. But he didn’t move, refused to acknowledge the sudden chill or the rapidly gathering darkness. Refused to allow the emotions battering at his soul to escape.

  “What do you need?” she’d asked.

  He’d known the answer. He’d just been unable to explain, to admit what he needed to survive. The words had long ago been ripped from his vocabulary, just as the emotions they expressed had been ripped from his soul.

  Dani approached the cold iron gate and gripped it with her warm hands.