By then she was beyond words.
He took his time, exploring her body at a leisurely pace that slowly pushed her closer and closer to the edge. With the final leap inevitable, she clasped him tight, called out his name, and pulled him with her.
Several hours later, she was awakened by the opening guitar riff from George Thorogood’s Bad to the Bone coming from Nick’s jeans, which hung from the back of the chair. She would get it for him, but she couldn’t seem to make herself get out of bed. The room was so cold, and she was so warm.
She nudged his shoulder. “Your pants are ringing.”
“Hmph?” He opened one eye.
“Your phone…in your pants.”
“Oh.” He sat up and ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “I should probably get that. It might be Kenny or Lewis with news about Mahoney.” He rolled over and climbed out of bed.
As he crossed the room, she settled back against the pillow to admire the view. She’d never considered herself a true connoisseur of the male posterior, but he did have a fine pair of glutes. He fished his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, took one look at the name, and frowned. Instead of answering, he tapped the red circle to decline the call and returned it to his pants.
“Not the police?” Zoë asked as he returned to bed.
“No.” Nothing more.
She checked the time on her phone on the nightstand. “We should probably get up. Lyman is expecting us at the hospital by ten.”
He pulled her back into his arms and nipped her earlobe. “It’s early. Besides, the way I feel right now, I can make this quick.”
“Not too quick, I hope.”
“Never.”
One thing led to another, and they barely made it to the hospital on time. When they walked into Marian’s room, they found the whole Prescott family.
“Good morning. Look what the doctor did for me!” Marian waved her right arm, now free of its cast.
“I think she’s more excited about that than the baby.” Lyman sent her a teasing smile.
“I am not. “ Marian gave him a playful shove with her newly liberated appendage. “But it’s going to be so much easier to take care of William with two hands. Would you like to see him?”
Zoë grinned. “Absolutely.”
After suitable oohing and aahing over the baby, Zoë asked, “Are you ready to go home?”
Marian walked gingerly to the closet and retrieved her coat. “We’re just waiting for the nurse with the wheelchair. They won’t let me walk out of here on my own. Hospital rules, apparently.”
Zoë noticed a large teddy bear with a big red bow sitting in one of the chairs. She walked over and picked him up. “This is adorable.” She glanced at the baby, asleep in his car seat and ready to go. “Even though it’s bigger than William at the moment.”
“It’s a gift from Victor Watanabe.”
Marian’s matter-of-fact tone made the statement all the more startling. Zoë snapped her head around. “What?”
Lyman nodded. “Yes. His condition has improved enough that the staff allowed him to visit this morning.”
“That must have been uncomfortable.”
“You would think so,” Marian said. “But he was really very nice. He seemed quite remorseful for everything Jimmy did.”
Lyman cleared his throat. “So remorseful, in fact, that I’ve decided not to press charges against him. He also made me a new offer—a very attractive one—and this time I accepted.”
Zoë stared at him as if antlers had suddenly sprung from his head. “I can’t believe it. After everything you’ve been through, you’re going to sell GRAMPA?”
“Not exactly. Ichiro Electronics has agreed to bankroll the manufacturing process and handle marketing in exchange for a portion of the profits. I will retain majority control and full ownership of the patents.”
“That’s wonderful…I guess.”
Lyman beamed. “It truly is. I’m the first one to admit I’m not much of a salesman, and now I’ll be able to concentrate on doing what I love without having to worry about trying to sell anything. But most importantly, GRAMPA will still be mine.”
Marian took his hand and smiled. “It’s a blessing.”
A knock sounded at the door, and a smiling young orderly appeared, pushing a wheelchair. “Ready to go, folks?”
Marian took the seat of honor, and Lyman picked up the car seat with the still-slumbering William. While Nick went to retrieve the car and bring it around to the front entrance, Zoë strolled next to Lyman, carrying Mr. Watanabe’s bear and Marian’s bag. She stole periodic peeks at the tiny hero of the moment, whose round face was topped by a blue knitted cap. An unexpected spark of pride and accomplishment kindled in her heart at the sight of his perfect little nose and rosebud mouth. She knew it was unreasonable. She’d had no part in the creation of this wondrous new being—he was all Lyman and Marian’s doing. But she liked to think she’d played a small part in his safe arrival.
Marian let Zoë hold William while Nick and Lyman worked to install the car seat according to the instruction manual. When he started to fuss, she took him back and bounced him on her shoulder in a time-honored mommy dance.
“Hurry up, you two,” she called into the back seat. “Someone’s getting hungry.” Then she turned to Zoë. “You’d think two men who could repair an elevator and build a robot would be able to install a simple car seat.”
Nick popped his head out from the back seat. “All done.”
Marian handed the baby to Lyman, who strapped him in, then settled beside him. Lyman sat next to her with his arm draped over the back of the seat, and Zoë and Nick climbed in front. Traffic was heavier on the way back to Strathmoor, and by the time they arrived, William was howling. Marian tried her best to soothe him, but he wanted what he wanted, and no pacifier was going to take its place. Lyman shepherded them up the front step and into the house, leaving Zoë to bring the bear and Marian’s tote while Nick parked the car.
Marian carried William straight upstairs to feed him, and Zoë followed. When she came back down, she found Lyman and Nick waiting in the foyer.
Lyman’s red-rimmed eyes and pale complexion betrayed his exhaustion, but his smile radiated elation. “I’d like to speak to you both in my office.”
Zoë raised her brows and glanced at Nick, who replied with a shrug. Whatever Lyman had to say couldn’t be bad—he looked too happy. They followed him into his office and sat in the pair of chairs facing the desk.
Once they were all seated, Lyman withdrew two envelopes from the top drawer and handed one to each. “Marian and I want to give you a little something extra for all you’ve done for us over the past several weeks.”
A pair of lines appeared between Nick’s brows as he regarded the envelope, and Zoë started to object, but Lyman cut her off. “No, no, we insist. We feel bad about forcing you to work at cross purposes for so long and exposing you to risks no one could have anticipated.”
“But we’re bodyguards. That’s our job,” she protested.
He nodded. “True, but as of today, those jobs are complete. Final payments will be sent to your offices as per the contracts.”
As his words sank in, the energy seeped from her like air from a deflating balloon. “You’re letting us go?”
He crossed his hands on the desk and beamed. “Exactly.”
Chapter Twenty
It was over.
She remembered the dejection of being fired her from her first after-school job at the diner for breaking too many dishes. This time she hadn’t done anything wrong, but Lyman’s words still brought a sense of loss. She’d known her time with the Prescotts would come to an end. Every bodyguard job was temporary—that was the nature of the work—but this felt different.
“I know Marian will want to thank you and say goodbye when she comes down, but you might as well start gathering your things now.” Lyman smiled with the pride of a schoolboy who had just won first prize in a spelling bee.
“Are you sure you d
on’t want to wait a little longer?” Worry lines creased Nick’s brow. “Mahoney may be in custody, but he’s escaped before.”
“Sergeant Lewis assured us the police would take extra precautions, and I have decided to take him at his word. Marian and I are tired of worrying about Jimmy Mahoney.”
“I hope you’re right.” Nick didn’t look convinced.
“We’re more than ready to get our lives back to normal. Marian is thrilled to have her cast off and be able to take care of William and do her own shopping again.” Lyman glanced at Zoë with a twinkle in his eye. “And she says you’ve inspired her to learn to cook.”
She smiled. “If I can learn, anyone can.”
Lyman rose and walked around his desk. “The deal with Ichiro Electronics will allow me to take care of my family the way I want to, and Marian will be able to stay home with the baby until she feels ready to go back to work.”
He turned his attention to Nick. “Despite what she may have told you, I’m not a bad driver, and it’s time I got back to it. I’ve ordered two new cars which will be delivered tomorrow—one for each of us.”
Zoë thought of Marian’s impatience with her temporary disability. “That’s wonderful. I know she’ll be excited to have her independence back.”
“You’ve got that right.”
They turned as Marian appeared in the doorway wearing a big smile. She walked up to her husband and put her arms around his waist. “William is asleep again. I know it probably won’t last, but so far, he’s a perfect angel.”
Lyman hugged her close and kissed the tip of her nose. “Two Christmas angels. I’m a lucky man.”
Marian freed herself from his embrace and turned to Zoë. “I saw the tree when I passed the living room.” Her blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she took Zoë’s hands. “It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for doing that.”
Zoë tried to banish the lump in her throat before she spoke but failed. “I wanted to make the holidays a little cheerier for you after the fire.”
“You’ve done so much.” Marian threw her arms around Zoë and engulfed her in a big hug. When she drew back, she glanced from Zoë to Nick. “Did Lyman tell you about our decision?”
Nick nodded. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Absolutely. We’ve taken every minute of your time for weeks. We want you to be free to spend the holidays with your families.”
Zoë’s stomach tightened. She’d been counting on using work as an excuse to stay in Chicago again this year. It wasn’t that she dreaded going home… exactly…but it had been so long. Things had changed. She’d changed. And she wasn’t sure what kind of reception she’d receive.
Marian shooed them toward the foyer. “Zoë, go on up and get your bags. And Nick, be sure to send me a list of everything you lost in the fire. I’ll include it in the insurance claim.”
Nick walked beside Zoë toward the stairs. “I’ll carry your luggage for you.”
Her brain still felt fuzzy as she tried to process the sudden wrap-up of the case. “You don’t have to do that.”
He touched her shoulder then smoothed his hand down the curve of her spine. “I know, but I want to.”
She nodded.
When they reached her room, Nick pulled her bags from under the bed and spread them on top for easy access. Since her clothes in the dresser were already folded, she had everything packed in a matter of minutes.
She surveyed the room then did one last check of the bathroom. “I guess that’s it.”
He hefted her suitcases, trying to balance the weight, and gestured toward the stairs with his chin. “Lead the way.”
Downstairs, Lyman and Marian were waiting, and after a flurry of handshakes, hugs, and promises to keep in touch, Zoë and Nick walked out together. When they reached their cars, she unlocked the Mini, and he started loading her luggage. Just as he slung the heaviest bag—the one with her shoes and books—into the back, his phone sang in his back pocket. Ba-da-da-da-da.
Half-in and half-out of the car, he twisted his head. “Can you get that for me? I’m expecting a call from the garage. My truck’s supposed to be ready tomorrow.”
Zoë wiggled the phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. It read “Maureen” and a number. A fist squeezed her heart.
He backed out of the car and straightened. “Who is it?”
She held the phone up facing him. His mouth tightened into a straight line as he reached for it. “I need to take this.”
Talking in low tones, he walked around to the other side of the Black Beast. Zoë waited for a moment, then loaded the last two bags, and shut the hatch with a loud, metallic thud. She had just opened the driver’s door when Nick appeared at her side. They stared at each other for a long moment without speaking.
How hard can it be to say goodbye? It’s just one simple word, two syllables. Good…bye.
She opened her mouth, but he beat her to the punch. “I’ve got some things I have to take care of, but we need to talk. I’ll call you. Soon.”
Wow. That’s all he’s got to say after everything we’ve been through? A declaration of undying devotion might be overkill, but really? How lame can you get?
“Sure.” She flashed him a tight smile then climbed into her car and slammed the door.
When she glanced in the rear view mirror, she thought she saw him mouth the words “drive safely”.
Jerk.
She drove home, muttering all the way.
After a miserable, mostly sleepless night, Zoë spent the following two days moving back into her apartment, mentally and physically. She cleaned, did laundry, picked up her mail, and restocked the refrigerator. As she pushed her cart down the frozen foods aisle at the grocery store, she caught herself reaching for frozen dinners, but before she succumbed to bad habits and self-pity, she slammed the freezer door and moved on. Over the past couple of months, she’d learned to enjoy cooking…mostly. The fact she no longer had anyone else to cook for didn’t mean she had to abandon the progress she’d made.
By eight o’clock the second night, she’d nearly worn herself out trying to ignore the newly oppressive solitude of the apartment she’d loved since the day she moved in. She’d been happy to have quiet and her own private space after years of communal military living, but now the silence weighed on her. At Strathmoor, someone was always around. She’d grown used to Marian’s humming or the muted sounds of her television shows. Even memories of Lyman’s occasional prissiness and GRAMPA’s messy malfunctions brought a smile to her lips.
And then there was Nick. They’d grown so close in such a short time. At least she thought they had. Maybe she’d read too much into his protective behavior and tender caresses. She tried to tell herself their situation was a lot like being in combat, and stress often led to short, intense relationships, but her heart wasn’t buying it. She missed his gruff manner, his direct, no-nonsense approach to problems, even his glass-half-empty, semi-suspicious outlook on life. But she also missed his unquestionable integrity, his prickly sense of humor, and that damned dimple.
After pouring a glass of Pinot noir, she snuggled up on the sofa with an afghan and a pile of holiday catalogues that had accumulated in her absence, and flipped on the television to one of her favorite old Christmas movies, the original black-and-white version of The Bishop’s Wife. The first time the doorbell sounded she thought it was the movie. After the second ring she realized it was her door.
Who could that be at this hour? And how did they get into the building without buzzing?
She set her glass on the coffee table and went to peer through the peek hole in the door. The convex glass of the tiny lens distorted Nick’s features as he leaned one eye close to peer back at her. Even looking like an image from a carnival funhouse, he sent her pulse skittering.
She took a deep breath and released it before opening the door. “Hi. I wasn’t expecting to see you. How did you get in?”
He grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck w
ith one hand before meeting her gaze. “I piggy-backed on one of your neighbors. The building manager should probably send out a reminder about that.” At least he had the grace to look embarrassed. “I thought about calling first, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Can I come in?”
She stepped back and pushed the door wide. “Sure.”
After draping his coat over a dining chair, she led the way to the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”
He glanced at the open wine bottle on the counter. “If that’s what you’re having, I wouldn’t mind a glass.”
She poured then handed it to him, and he followed her into the living room. After settling on the couch, she turned off the television, picked up her glass, and faced him. “You said you had things to do, so I assume you’ve been keeping busy the last couple of days.”
He nodded. “I turned in the Beast and got my truck back.” He took a long sip from his glass. “I also put out some feelers about a new job.”
Her brows shot up. “Really? Doing what?”
“I decided you were right. I’m a lousy private investigator.”
She sucked in a sudden breath through her teeth. She’d never intended to suggest he quit his job altogether. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, no.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t any good because my heart wasn’t in it. This case showed me how much I miss real police work. I’ve started talking to several suburban departments about a position as a detective.”
“That’s wonderful!” She meant it. “Watching you work, I could tell that’s the best place for you.”
“That’s not all.” He glanced down at his hands then back at her. “I…uh…also had some other personal things to attend to the last couple of days.”
For two days the memory of his call their last morning at Strathmoor had been circling her brain like a hawk eyeing a field mouse. And like any determined raptor, it had refused to give up and fly away.
“Like Maureen?” she blurted out.
Rats.
She’d sworn she wouldn’t bring up his old girlfriend. When would her mouth learn to take orders from her brain?
Boiling Point (Phoenix, Ltd. Book 2) Page 26