by Chloe Blake
Nicole gasped when lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating things again. “Is that a terrace?”
“Yes,” came his muffled voice from a walk-in closet. He emerged with a pile of clothing. “There are stone stairs that lead to the ocean. I’ll show you in the morning. But you won’t be able to use the stairs with that ankle.”
“You could just carry me,” she teased.
The look he gave her said he wasn’t amused. “Aren’t we here so you can use the bathroom?”
“You haven’t shown me the ladies’ room.”
“Follow me.” She limped after him down the candlelit hall to the guest bathroom. He set the pile in his hands on the corner stool. “I don’t have any women’s clothes. But you can change into these and leave your clothes here to dry. Then feel free to make yourself comfortable in the living room.”
“Thank you.” He nodded and turned to leave. “Destin. Really. Thank you.”
His eyes looked navy in the firelight. “You’re welcome.”
She set her candle on the sink and closed the door, thankful for a proper toilet. She hopped to the stool and sifted through the clothing. A large black terrycloth robe, a large T-shirt, a pair of soft pants and thick socks. Sexy.
She sat on the stool and changed, taking her time, opening the window to let just a bit of the air into the humid space. Everything was way too big for her, the T-shirt falling over her nakedness like a minidress, but the clothes were warm and dry. The pants were so long she needed to roll them, but the fabric wouldn’t stay. With her bad ankle, she could see herself tripping or worse.
Leaving the pants on the stool next to the rest of her clothing, she slipped on the socks, then tied the robe tightly around her waist. The overlap concealed her legs, and as long as she sat like a lady, no one would know she wasn’t wearing underwear.
Last but not least, she limped to the mirror above the sink and cringed at her stringy hair. There was no helping it.
Emerging from the bathroom, Nicole followed the flickering glow from the candles around the room and found Destin by the tan leather ottoman opening a bottle of wine. He was in a gray T-shirt and the same type of soft pants she’d left in the bathroom. His bare feet were planted in the soft rug. It was almost...romantic. The only things missing were music and a charcuterie platter.
“Do I look homeless?”
He chuckled when he saw her and continued pouring two glasses of wine. “You look adorable. Come, get off that ankle.”
Nicole made herself comfortable on the plush couch, clenching the robe together at the knees, and took the wine glass he offered. She was fully covered. Honestly, she looked like a bear, but the fact that her panties were drying in the bathroom made her hyperaware of the way she was sitting.
She took a calming sip from her glass. “This is your father’s Cab Franc. The one from dinner.”
“It’s truly remarkable that you can tell the difference,” he said softly, walking from the candlelight into the shadows. Cupboard doors began to slam and utensils clinked.
“You said something like that earlier,” she said, her voice carrying into the kitchen. “Why does it surprise you so much?” Magnus ambled into the room and stretched out at her feet. She reached down to rub his belly. When she came up, Destin was setting a large wooden block of bite-sized food on the ottoman.
Pitted olives, pickles, cheese triangles and a small mountain of prosciutto lay in front of her. “These will spoil if we don’t eat them now. I’m sorry, it’s not much. I seem to be out of everything,” Destin said, popping an olive into his mouth and settling into a lounging position on the other side of the couch.
He smiled then, one arm stretched across the back of the couch while the other hand balanced his wine glass on his knee. The Prince in repose, she thought.
“And to answer your question, my father argued that the signature wine from Dechamps Brazil—the one featured in Wine Spectator—was too close to his signature wine, and therefore he took my wine and slapped the Dechamp France label on it.”
Nicole frowned. “That’s illegal.”
“Not if you were dumb enough to sign a contract stating that any wines created on Dechamp lands belonged to the parent company.”
Nicole frowned. “Why would you sign that?”
Destin lowered his gaze. “I trusted my father and his team of lawyers.” Nicole had the decency to blush. “It didn’t matter that I created both signature wines, my rights were gone the minute I put my name on that contract.” Destin drew deeply from his glass and topped it off, then leaned over to refill hers, as well.
“Both of the wines? No wonder you hate lawyers.” And it explained why he was fighting with his father. “Sounds like working with family isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
He grinned. “Think about all of the annoying things your boss does that affect you, then imagine that man is your father.”
“Hmm, no. That doesn’t work.”
“Exactly. There is security in family, but every dinner or holiday ends in a business discussion. There is no separation of church and state.”
“Wow. I never thought of it that way.”
“But don’t get me wrong. We have our good moments.” His gaze hit the rug. “I love my family. Very much.” An awkward pause descended. “Do you have siblings?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“Children?”
“No,” she said, unsure she wanted to discuss such personal details.
“A boyfriend? Or husband?”
She shook her head in answer.
“Why?” Instantly his gaze softened, which made her uncomfortable.
“There’s no reason. I focused on my career. And I’m proud of that.” She heard the edge in her voice and instantly regretted it. “Actually, I’m up for a promotion.”
His lips formed a flat line, and his gaze didn’t waver from her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to strike a nerve.”
“No, it’s just that I won’t allow anyone to hold me to a stereotype. I haven’t met the man of my dreams. Not everyone can have it all.” It was her turn to trace patterns on the table. The adoption agency came to the forefront of her mind. She might not have it all, but she was going to get damn close.
She squirmed, preferring him in the hot seat. “Are you and Elliot fighting about the sale?”
“You don’t want a family?”
They spoke in unison, each apologizing politely for interrupting. Destin gave her the floor.
“Are you and Elliot fighting about the sale?”
“No. Elliot is a lot like our mother was. He hovers. He meddles. But it’s always with a good heart.” He paused. “We aren’t fighting, but he gets himself caught in the middle when our father and I do fight.”
“And you and your father are fighting now.”
He lowered his eyes and slowly nodded. “Your turn.”
“I did want a family. Sure.”
“You did,” he repeated. “But no longer?”
She sighed. “I still want one, but time isn’t on my side.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t have the luxury of waiting for a man.”
“Because of your age.”
It wasn’t a question, but rather a statement. It stung. She felt her walls go up and the bolts slam into place. “I don’t think this is something you discuss with strangers.”
“Not even strangers who saved your life?”
She snorted. “My life wasn’t in danger.”
“Those shoes tried to kill you. You could have fallen down the stairs. Or broken your ankle or your wrist trying to catch yourself. You don’t know what tragedy was prevented because I was there. What do they say in the kung fu movies? Your life is mine, now.”
The corners of her mouth lifted. “Spoken like a t
rue Shaolin master. You like kung fu movies?”
“Elliot was obsessed with them when he was little. I had to chaperone him because our parents refused to go. They were dubbed in English and subtitled in French. Awful.”
She laughed, happy to change the subject. “I used to watch them at a friend’s after school.”
So many nights she had come home from junior high and, while her father was passed out, done her homework, made dinner, then gone to her friend’s apartment across the hall. It was a time she never thought about if she could help it, but never forgot.
“Is your family in New York, too?”
“My parents passed away some time ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” She knew what he was thinking. No husband, no children, no family. She drained her glass and made methodical work of the food.
* * *
Destin wondered if he had gone too far, but he’d been surprised at the fact that she had no one at home waiting for her. She was intelligent, accomplished and—he watched her lips close around a small pickle—sensual. It was obvious in the way she savored her wine, the curve of her lips when she smiled and in the foods she chose to eat. Maybe she was as selective with men as she was with her palate. Or maybe she hadn’t found a man who could stimulate all of her senses.
She was wrapped in his robe, reclining against the couch arm, her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He watched as she eased forward and reached for another olive. The slippery sucker eluded her, and she stretched farther, keeping a tight grip on the terrycloth over her legs.
His breath caught when she lost the handful of fabric and the robe fell open to expose her leg from foot to thigh. She quickly covered herself, forgetting the olive to grab a slice of prosciutto, and sat back primly. He had a rampant urge to drop to his knees and trail her inner thighs with kisses. The thought had him adjusting his seat and also thinking he should have worn less flimsy pants.
“So, what’s wrong with you?” He hadn’t meant the question to be so direct, but he was still getting a hold on his libido.
“Excuse me?” One eyebrow went up.
“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“Wha...well... I don’t know... I date. Things just don’t always work out.”
“You have a list of requirements, don’t you?”
She cocked her head. “Everyone has a list.”
“Men don’t have lists.”
“Yes, they do. Hot? Check. Boobs? Check. That’s a list.”
“And how many items are on your list?”
“I don’t know...a few.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. More than a few, he’d bet.
“I would venture that you, Miss Parks, are a control freak.”
Nicole sat up straighter. “No, I just know what I want. I think that makes it easier for everyone involved.”
“What you want is not always what you need.”
“Whoa, is this more kung fu wisdom?”
“No, that’s my mother.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m sure your mother was right. She sounds very wise.”
“She was. She was independent, like yourself. I think she would have liked you.”
“Really? She didn’t hate lawyers?”
Destin’s lips twitched. “I should clear something up from last night. You are not the first attorney we’ve hired. The others were all hotshot men who thought more about lining their pockets than what was best for us or Rio Grande. None of them worked out. My shock wasn’t because I’m a chauvinist. I just wasn’t expecting...” he paused “...you.”
She smiled, and when she spoke again, it was in a teasing tone. “But you are a bit of a misogynist.”
“No, I just tell bad jokes. Elliot is the people person in our family.”
“So, how is working with a female lawyer so far, Destin?”
It took him a moment, but he leveled his gaze on her. “Jury is still out.”
Chapter 9
Nicole tossed and turned in the night, assailed by a list of things that had to be done the next day and concerned that the storm would never cease and would turn the property into a giant mud pit. Her buyers were powerful—and impatient. At this rate, it could take days for the place to dry out, which meant delayed showings and the risk of lost interest.
Sinking into the pillows, she mused that the pitch black of the unfamiliar room was making her feel like time was slipping away. How dare Destin ask such personal questions? She didn’t need him making her feel like a failure at love; she did that all on her own. Nicole used to say she was alone, not lonely, but somewhere along the way it had turned into straight-up lonely. A family of her own would vanquish that feeling, hence her wanting that promotion. Yes, she deserved it, but as fabulous as her single life had been, she was ready for more.
Everything would be different after she became a mother, wouldn’t it? No longer would she feel that hole in her heart, the one that she wasn’t able to fill, ever since the people who’d loved her disappeared. Often she wondered if her friends were right, that she was barreling head-on into adoption without thinking it through. But she had thought about it ever since the pregnancy scare she’d had with her last boyfriend.
She’d found her NuvaRing on the shower floor and freaked, remembering their late-night water playdate, where they’d both wanted to get dirty before getting clean. Staring at the contraceptive device, she’d counted back to her last period and felt...joy. A little fear and uncertainty were present, of course, but there had been happiness, too.
Her boyfriend? He hadn’t felt the same way.
A lawyer himself, he’d said all of the right things that you say to a woman when she might be pregnant. Supportive phrases that Nicole had suspected he didn’t feel. He’d bought the drugstore test and tried to seem unconcerned, even as he questioned whether she’d removed the ring herself. And, when the test came back negative, he’d slumped, relieved and smiling, against the kitchen counter. Nicole had wanted to cry.
Not long after, he’d pulled away, blaming the demise of their relationship on her job. She’d lost hope for romantic love, but her desire for a baby, a little family all her own, still lingered.
Destin’s blue gaze wafted through her thoughts. He wouldn’t be like that. From the way he’d taken care of her that night, it was obvious he had parental instincts. Maybe he’d even wanted to become a father, before his loss, of course. He’d turned somber when she spoke of the deaths in her family, but there was something else in his eyes, something Nicole recognized in her own. Loneliness.
Unable to fall back asleep, Nicole thrust the covers aside and placed her feet firmly on the floor. A quick splash of water on her face might quiet her active thoughts. She moved to find her candle and matches, the darkness of the room and its frequent purple illumination from the lightning unnerving.
Lit candle in hand, she crept forward out of the bedroom doorway, favoring her still-tender ankle, listening hard, unused to the eerie silence of the unfamiliar home. She preferred to hear taxicabs whizzing by on the streets below, or a verbal fight happening on the corner. Not this Edgar Allen Poe-like quiet where her heartbeat thumped in her ears. She turned her attention in the direction of Destin’s closed door, but again heard nothing. Did he sleep nude? She’d seen his bed, but what did he look like in it?
Remembering her nakedness under the long T-shirt, she scurried to the bathroom and quietly shut the door. Placing her candle on the sink, she ran the water and made use of the facilities, grateful for the cool breeze from the window she had cracked earlier.
A movement caught her eye, but a quick inspection of the shower stall, Jacuzzi tub, sink and closed door calmed her. “Just your own shadow,” she murmured at her reflection in the wall mirror. Leaning toward the stool, she fingered her clothes, which were laid out and slowly drying.
&nb
sp; Quickly, she pulled her hand back from her lace panties, blinking a few times, unsure if the candlelight was playing tricks on her. Surely the flickering was what was causing this dark...thing. The thing moved.
Nicole’s loud yelp bounced off the walls, and her rigid body knocked the mason jar that held her candle into the sink. Pure black enveloped her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Magnus’s barking sounded instantly outside the door.
“Nicole!” Destin’s voice and heavy footfall traveled up the hall. She heard her name again, along with several knocks. Then the door burst open. Destin’s eyes were wide and glittered turquoise from the lit candle in his hand. He was shirtless, in only his loose trousers, and Nicole was momentarily distracted by the picture he presented in the doorway.
With the shadows behind him, he looked larger than life—all smooth skin, rippling muscle and chiseled torso. Her gaze caught on the light smattering of dark hair on his chest, hair that also covered his forearms and, starting below his navel, disappeared below his thin cotton pants toward the bulging outline of his...
She snapped her gaze upward.
* * *
“What happened?” His distressed gaze traveled over her in seconds and landed back on her stricken face. “Nicole, what’s the matter?”
Unable to find her breath, she rapidly shook her head and pointed. A fuzzy black tarantula, the size of a child’s palm, sat unmoving on Nicole’s pink underwear. Thank God, Destin thought. The ugly but harmless creature was more of an annoyance than a threat. Destin frowned at the crack in the window, apparently the creature’s entrance. The scary intruder had been looking for shelter and found it on pink lace. Good choice.
“It’s okay. It won’t hurt you.” Destin said, doing his best not to ogle her. His T-shirt fell to the tops of her thighs, and her unbound breasts quivered against the thin fabric. Those long legs were naked, exposed and gorgeous. And unless she’d had another pair of underwear with her, her panties were underneath the spider. Blood from his brain rushed straight to his lower body.
“It’s huge!” Nicole backed against the wall.
His gaze flicked to her face, which reflected terror. He supposed she’d never seen anything like it in person. He didn’t want to tell her he’d seen larger ones just outside the winery. “Come out so I can remove it.”