He'd hoped she hadn't noticed that every time he came, he checked the bookrack to see how many had sold. “That lady with the pixie haircut bought Murder By Moonlight one evening and before she left, the other three Charlie O'Dell titles. We need more copies, okay?"
Nick's heart raced. “Did you mention I wrote them?"
"I thought she knew. I saw the two of you together and thought that was why she wanted them. Not that they aren't good.” Her face turned red. “I'm a big fan."
And so was C.J.
She didn't know who Dennis Nicholas was, but she liked his books. Maybe if they ever found one another again, the real Nicholas Dennis would bare his soul and she'd like him.
* * * *
EVEN WITH A DOUGHNUT in his hand and another in his stomach, Nick couldn't stop thinking about Celeste. What would she think if she knew he was a writer? Would she care, or had she already forgotten him? The phone rang, and he wished it would be her, but it was Dell. “If you called to needle me about the book,” Nick said, without preamble, “it's coming along."
"I didn't, but time is running short. I talked to your dad the other day. He sounds tired. You ought to keep in closer touch."
"Is that why you called, Dell?” A clap of thunder sounded. Lightning flashed. The sky opened up. Nick groaned. He'd be stuck inside all day with the computer staring him in the face again. “To lecture me?"
"Cheez. I've never known you to be so crabby.” Dell paused a split second. “I called to invite you to a party."
A drop of rain hit the computer monitor. Grabbing the sheet that had covered the mop lady, he covered it. Rain poured in around the window. Nick groaned.
"Nick. I said party. Your favorite word."
"My least favorite word is rain. Damn it, Dell. It's raining in the trailer. My computer's getting wet."
"Why do you think I'm getting rid of that hunk of tin? Leave. Come stay with me while you finish your book."
"Is there an umbrella around here?"
"In the cubbyhole over the bed."
Phone in hand, Nick scrambled to pull out a beach umbrella. “I hope this thing is waterproof."
"Listen a minute. The party is tomorrow night at The Willows, a fancy new club ten or twelve miles from here. My buddy's baby brother is getting married. It's an engagement bash. Before you ask, he said it was okay to bring you along instead of a date. And after I embarrassed myself by asking, you better not refuse. So the bride and groom are kids? There'll be plenty of booze and who knows, maybe some hot-looking moms."
The rusty panel over Nick's head gave way, and a flood of water hit him in the face. “I'll be there,” he sputtered, “if I can spend the night at your house in a dry bed."
* * * *
NICK DROVE UP to The Willows in his mud-splattered Explorer. His cousin must be desperate to get married if he was looking at moms, but what the hey, it would be a great place to get drunk. And maybe if he got Dell soused, he could talk him into letting him borrow the lake cabin for a month, until he won. Or lost. He'd bought tarps to cover his bed and computer while he was gone and put backups of all his work in a waterproof box. He had to get out of there soon, but where to go? Not Dell's where his cousin could breathe down his neck, that was for sure.
When Dell told him The Willows was ten miles from Ridgefield, he might as well have said it was in Montclair. The two towns were rivals in basketball and Dell played varsity the year Montclair High beat them in a heartbreaker of a state final game, so maybe he hadn't wanted to say the name. Montclair began with an M, but chances of Celeste growing up in the next town without Nick knowing her were slim. He'd known all the good-looking high school girls for miles around.
The club was lit up like the Las Vegas Strip, and they had valet parking. Helluva bash. Dell was waiting at the front door. Nick looked down at his white pullover and khaki pants. “You didn't tell me you were wearing a tux."
"I knew you wouldn't come if I did. But you could have worn a jacket.” Dell led the way inside, where his buddy, Paul, introduced them to the future groom.
Shaking hands with Mark Simmons was like grabbing a handful of overcooked spaghetti. The bride-to-be, Susan Harte, eyed Nick's bare arms while giving him a strained smile. “Are you from around here, Mr. Dennis?"
"You mean, don't I know enough to wear a jacket to formal affairs?” Nick grinned, and she flushed all the way to the vee neck of her dress. Slim with dark waist-length hair drawn back with a pale blue bow that matched her dress and eyes, she looked more like a child than an engaged woman. “I'm not local if that helps my case."
Dell dragged him away. “You want to get us thrown out of here?"
"I drove three hundred miles to have fun. I refuse to be disdained."
"I don't suppose you stopped to see your dad."
"Not my idea of a rollicking good time.” Nick eyed the crowded bar and moaned. Free booze, and everyone, including him, was ready to guzzle.
"They're passing champagne.” Dell pointed out a waiter with a tray coming toward them. “It wouldn't kill you to drive ten miles south to Ridgefield. Your dad looks tired."
"You should find a wife so you'd have someone else to nag.” It was only ten miles out of the way, but Nick had made poor time driving in the rain and wasn't sure he'd have gone anyway.
"Your fath—"
"Stop.” Nick took a quick step away and bumped a waiter with a tray of glasses. The glasses tipped and clinked. Two fell over, splashing champagne on Dell's sleeve and Nick's arm. He caught a glass, teetering on the tray's edge, before it fell to the floor.
Someone laughed softly and Nick, sure he was hearing things, turned slowly, heart pounding.
C.J. stood beside a man in a tux, a smile on her lips.
Lips Nick had kissed. Smiling at him. She moved away from the man who muttered something about bumpkins, straight toward Nick. A vision in a lavender dress that hugged her shapely hips and draped softly at the top, showing just a hint of her breasts, she took his breath away. Her eyes met his, and all the anger he'd felt toward her, all the hurt, melted away.
"Nick.” He loved the way she said his name. “What are you doing here?"
"Crashing someone's engagement party.” He touched her cheek to make sure she was real, and she smiled.
"From what I saw, you're doing a good job.” She flicked a champagne droplet from his arm and sucked her fingertip.
Nick felt such a tightening in his loins, he wished he had worn a jacket. Pulling out a handkerchief on the pretense of wiping his arm, he dangled both in front of him. “Kind of like standing up in a boat, isn't it?"
"You and that insolent grin,” she said, tipping her head back to laugh.
The line of her throat begged to be kissed. She was killing him here. He shook his handkerchief, trying to bring it to full size. “I believe you mean charming. Although the bride-to-be might have considered it insolent."
C.J. swept a glance over the crowd. “You met Susan?"
"I believe she disapproved of my attire."
"You look good to me.” She turned her full attention on Nick and spoke softly. “I thought chance meetings only occurred in fiction."
"Life is stranger than fiction.” A svelte woman with red hair and a throaty voice tucked her hand in Nick's arm. Before he could say he believed the saying was “truth is stranger than fiction,” she introduced herself. “I'm Cee's friend, Marianne Joest, and you must be the man-beast. Nick ... who?"
"Dennis.” Nick said a silent prayer that C.J. wouldn't make a connection between his name and the mystery author. They had a lot to discuss, if she left here with him the way he hoped.
Dell cleared his throat and Nick, who'd forgotten all about his cousin, turned to see him eyeing Marianne. After Nick introduced the two of them. Dell turned to C.J. “And you would be..."
"Celeste Harte."
She had a perfect last name. Nick smiled smugly. He couldn't have done better if he named her himself.
"Harte? The same name as the g
uest-of-honor?” Dell asked.
"That's right,” C.J. said, color rising in her cheeks.
Nick tried to remember what he'd said about the bride-to-be, hoping it wasn't insulting. What was the bride's name? Susan. C.J. bought something for Susan at the flea market. Sandals or slippers. “Your sister?"
Marianne bumped Dell's arm, spilled champagne down the front of his tux, and started mopping at it with a cocktail napkin. “I'm beginning to feel like a maiden ship,” he said, his ears flaming as she swiped at the lower portion of his tuxedo jacket.
"Darling, you're anything but a maiden,” Marianne said, smiling up at him. “Just come along and I'll get a damp cloth and sponge you off."
Dell cast Nick a helpless look as she dragged him away.
C.J. took his arm. “Let's go out on the verandah. It's stuffy in here."
A full moon splashed silver light on the willows that dipped low around the porch. White wicker rockers and summer-bright plants in stone urns sat close to the single wooden rail. Nick led her down three steps to a path that opened into a grove of trees. A perfect spot to be alone with C.J., and if Marianne purposely baptized Dell, Nick owed her. C.J. smiled up at him. He'd been angry since she left, but when he saw her tonight, the feeling left him, and he felt lonesome and afraid. Anger was better. Safer. “Why did you leave the way you did?"
"Do you want a true explanation, Nick? Or do you want a game of pretend?"
"I thought you enjoyed those times together."
"Oh, I did.” She touched his cheek tenderly. “I did."
"You led me to believe you wanted to stay another week, then took off the next day without explanation."
"You wrote the rules.” She raised a hand to her throat.
She wore a diamond ring and wedding band.
Fury boiled up in him. He'd been so sure she was honest. “You didn't play by the rules.” It was some game she'd played. Today I am ... free to make a fool of Nick. His voice was tight. “You didn't wear those rings at camp."
She looked at her hand. Surprise showed on her face, and he wondered if she'd remembered she wore her class ring to New Beginnings and lost it. She looked up at him through lowered lashes. “You didn't want to know my marital status."
He'd hoped she'd deny being married. Tell him she and her husband were separated, at least. Hoped she'd say something to stop the pain stabbing him in the gut. “Who called you home, Celeste?"
"Susan is my husband's sister. She called me."
"I trusted you to be straightforward with me."
C.J. twisted the rings off, and put them in her purse. “Susan asked me to wear these tonight. She came to live with her brother and me five years ago. Harry died two years later."
Nick gulped. “You're a widow? She's your former sister-in-law?"
"I'm her guardian, and she called me home to plan her engagement party."
C.J. wasn't married. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He should be relieved but was angry again. Furious. She'd led him on, made him suffer. “You took off lickety-split to plan a party?"
"I'm all Suz has. She needed me."
"I thought you were going to stop meeting everyone's demands."
"I knew that's what you'd think if I tried to explain."
"She could have waited a couple of days, or weeks."
"She didn't think so, and that's the problem. She wants to get married in September. I want her to go to college. I came home, to change her mind."
Nick cocked a brow toward the noisy club.
"I haven't succeeded, yet, but I can be as stubborn as Susan, and I'm not giving up.” C.J. smiled and touched his face, and he felt some of the iciness leave his heart. “I didn't want to leave New Beginnings and my freedom teacher, but a girl's future is at stake. I'm not giving up my quest for freedom, just taking a short detour. She's my responsibility. Can you understand that?"
Nick nodded and pulled her close. C.J. wasn't one of the hot-looking moms Dell talked about, but she had the responsibilities of a mother. And she was plenty hot. Nick rubbed his chin against her hair and smelled her sweetness. She lifted her face and he rubbed noses with her. “I'm sorry for making like a jealous lover, but it tore me up when you left. And for a moment there, when I thought you were married, I..."
"I know,” she murmured. “I'm sorry."
He tipped her chin and looked into her eyes. “It doesn't matter now."
"I've missed you, Nick ... Dennis.” She seemed to taste the name on her lips, repeating it softly.
The door to The Willows opened, casting light across the porch, and she stiffened even though they were concealed by shadows. “I should be inside playing hostess."
"I'll let you go. For now, if you'll kiss me."
She raised her face, slipped her arms around his neck, and their lips met. She tasted like ice cream on a sultry day, as if he couldn't get enough to soothe his need in this lifetime. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and as she melted against him, her lips, her body melding with his, Nick's world shifted into place again. Releasing her as the sound of music swelled from the club, he looked deeply into her eyes. Together again. He believed in karma and now, he believed in fate. He'd found her when there didn't seem to be a chance.
Holding tightly to her hand as they walked slowly back to the party, Nick vowed silently never to let Celeste Harte get away.
* * * *
CEE FELT LIKE a free spirit entering the Blue Moon, a roadhouse she hadn't visited since her teens, with Nick at her side. The music was country, while back then it had been hard rock. The crowd tended toward truckers rather than kids who tried to pass fake IDs. But the lights were still blue and draught beer was still the only alcoholic beverage sold.
They sat in the corner booth farthest from the jukebox, and for her, only that little corner of the world existed. Pale brown hair touched the collar of his white pullover, contrasting sharply with his dark golden tan. His eyes were as blue as she remembered, although she'd wondered in his absence if they could be.
"You're as beautiful as I remembered,” he said softly.
Karma. “You too."
He chuckled and took her hand, and she felt blessed to find him again. She looked down at their clasped hands so he wouldn't see the tears that sprang to her eyes. “I was afraid we'd never find one another."
"It has to be destiny.” He sounded happy, and she blinked hard and nodded. He touched her eyelashes. “Happy tears?"
"You're learning.” She traced the strong line of his jaw.
Some couples moved onto the floor to dance to a fast country tune. Hands clasped, wrapped in their own thoughts, she and Nick pretended to watch. She wished they'd play a slow song so he could hold her close. The song ended, and chatter was the only sound. Nick motioned to the waitress for two more beers. “I'm glad Susan and Mark had plans after the party and your parents had to leave early."
Cee was glad too, although wild mustangs couldn't have kept her from Nick tonight. He lifted his almost-empty beer mug and tipped his head back, exposing a mat of soft curls at the vee of his shirt. She longed to touch his chest. Stroke his arms. Run her hands down over his narrow hips.
"Your father didn't like me any better than Susan did."
Justin Bachman wouldn't like anyone as well as he had Harry. He'd chosen him for her the same way he would have chosen Yale or Harvard for a son. Her daddy used to say Harry Harte was made of the same stuff as Donald Trump. Cee had to agree, but not the way her father meant. Of course, he still believed Harry's infidelity was her fault.
The waitress brought the beers, and Cee noted the way she looked at Nick and walked away, swinging her hips. But he paid her no heed. His eyes were on Cee, and her heart swelled to fill her chest. “Susan and Daddy aren't related but they're much alike."
"I'd wager they're two of the people who made demands of you."
It wasn't a question but she thought Nick expected an answer. “Daddy has always been demanding, and so was Harry. Susan is a sweet kid,
but that's the defining term. Kid. She believes she's grown up, and all she thinks about is getting married, having a home of her own, and babies.” Cee ran her fingers up and down the frost on her fresh beer.
"She looks—and acts—younger than eighteen."
"I've protected her a lot since she lost her parents and her brother.” She'd protected her from the truth when she shouldn't have. Ruefully, Cee rubbed a finger in the last of the frost on her mug. “I didn't want to leave camp, and you, but I need to see the job of raising her through."
"It's rained every day since you left. Mold is growing on my bedclothes.” He straightened the wet napkin under his mug.
She stroked his knuckles. “How long are you going to stay at New Beginnings?"
"Until I win the b ... lottery."
"Blottery?” she chuckled. “Waitress, please don't bring this man any more beer.” The waitress was nowhere near, but Nick looked away as if Cee had truly embarrassed him. “Can't you afford a better place?"
"I could, but I'm not wealthy. Let's get out of here, okay?"
Cee shrugged, surprised by his sudden request to go. They had nearly full beers, but he threw down a tip and slid out of the booth.
Outside, Nick took a deep gulp of air.
"Are you okay?"
"It got a little warm inside, that's all.” He took her hand and walked to the edge of the parking lot where there was an old wooden bench. He put one foot up on it, and she sat down, being careful of her new dress. Hundreds of initials had been carved on that bench by couples over the years. “I'm spending the night with Dell, but he and Marianne seemed to hit it off. I don't want to go back too early and burst in on them."
So why had he decided to bolt out of the Blue Moon? “I'm in no hurry to get home."
Nick sat on the other end of the bench and, taking out a pocketknife, began to carve a heart between them. ND. He paused and rubbed his knife blade on his handkerchief.
"Marianne might have taken him to her house, next door to mine.” Nick carved a C. Was he hoping for an invitation to come home with her? “She lives alone, after two marriages."
"Ouch. Does that mean Dell is or isn't safe?"
"What do you mean, safe?"
Finding Mr. Romantic Page 9