“Manolito has a cold, but Mami knows how to take care of him better than I do,” Daisy said with a chuckle. “She’s been watching him all week.” She smiled at him. “Thank you for asking.”
All week? What kind of a mom was she? Veronique couldn’t figure out Daisy’s situation, whether she was married or a single parent, but it was clear her mom helped her out a lot.
They grew silent again and Veronique felt Nick’s tension escalating along with Hurricane Abby’s wrath. It was rotten timing that Daisy had ruined their intimate moment in the closet. They sat in stiff silence while the girl made a production of praying with her hands clasped and her eyes tightly shut. Daisy jumped and moaned whenever lightning hit and put her hands over her ears at the booming thunder that followed. The girl was so agitated by the hurricane, it was getting on Veronique’s nerves…and Nick’s. She could tell he was furious at not one, but two women encroaching on his privacy.
When the eye of the storm arrived, everything grew calm. Veronique dialed Natasha’s number again, but to no avail. Exasperated, she got up and headed toward the door.
“Hey, where are you going?” Nick called out.
“I need to stretch for a bit. I’m going back to bed,” Veronique said.
“I’d rather you stayed here until it’s over.”
She remained standing. “I have enough time to get to my room. I’m going to keep calling Tash until I can get through. Maybe I’ll have better reception there.”
“You probably will,” Daisy piped in.
What did she know? Veronique could be staying in any of the five bedrooms. No doubt she’d love to get rid of her and sit beside Nick, sheltered by his broad shoulders.
Veronique wanted to strangle her.
“Stay.” One word, but Nick’s brisk command didn’t go unnoticed. He was clearly out of patience. He turned to Daisy. “You too.”
“I am not moving until you say so, Señor Nicky,” Daisy simpered in a solicitous voice that didn’t fool Veronique one bit. “Oops, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like me to call you that. I won’t do it again.”
Earlier, Daisy had acted like a nervous Nellie, shuddering and wringing her hands whenever a crack of lightning slashed through the house. Now she was acting submissive and remorseful to gain points with Nick. Her playacting was enough for Veronique to grit her teeth and sit back down.
She could barely make out Nick’s profile in the tension-filled, dark room, but his bridled energy was that of a stallion chomping at the bit to burst from a pen. She couldn’t blame him. Being confined in the room with Daisy’s jumpy nerves was stifling, not to mention irksome. The only good thing about Daisy being there was that her presence kept Nick from asking Veronique questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
Something horrible has happened. Natasha’s anguished words haunted Veronique. Was Tash injured? Could there be any connection with the random gunshot in the Miami parking lot?
Maybe that shot hadn’t been random after all…
Chapter Seven
By the time Hurricane Abby finished wreaking havoc on Nick’s property, it left a mess behind. Veronique circled the outside of the house with Nick, checking for damage. Avocados, key limes, carambola and bunches of dwarf bananas lay heaped on the ground. Masses of wet, torn leaves, broken branches and uprooted, downed trees created hurdles as they made their way through the mud. She was glad when Nick told her that Daisy was in the kitchen making breakfast.
“You’re lucky it was only a category one hurricane,” Veronique said.
“Yeah. Good thing the roof is metal. It held up pretty well,” Nick said, glancing at the roof.
Veronique shaded her eyes from the sun as she peered up at it.
At the front porch, they found substantial damage where an old oak tree had fallen against the wooden balustrade. Remnants of railing stuck out like spikes in the beaten down croton bushes several feet away.
Veronique cast a look at Nick’s face. He’d been quiet for most of their walk.
“Did you get a hold of Natasha?” he asked, meeting her gaze. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark aviator shades, but from the tone of his voice, she was certain they were somber.
“Not yet. Every time I try to dial out, I get a message that all circuits are busy.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “My phone’s not working either. I haven’t been able to reach Fred.”
“Why do you have to reach Fred?”
He gave her an incredulous look. “Why do you think? Has it occurred to you that he and your mom might be worried?”
She stiffened. He didn’t know that she was estranged from both of them. Well, not exactly estranged, but she preferred to keep her distance, especially from Fred.
“I’ll take care of contacting Maman. Don’t call Fred on my behalf,” she said emphatically. She’d never accepted Fred as her stepfather and didn’t call him that. To her, he was just Fred the intruder. As a child she’d deeply resented him for selling their home and moving her mom to New York.
He had shipped Veronique off to an exclusive girl’s boarding school in Virginia and had paid for her education, including a BA at Georgetown University and an MA at Northwestern in Journalism. When she found out Fred had funded her education, she vowed never to accept another penny from him. She probably should have been thankful for his assistance, but she blamed the dominant man for tearing her away from her mother’s side and banishing her to boarding school. During that time, Fred took over caring for Helene full-time by marrying her.
“Why do you still resent your stepfather after all this time? He did you a big favor by sending you to boarding school.”
Nick didn’t understand where she was coming from. Naturally, he’d side with Fred, Helene’s savior. “Not quite. Why do you say that?” she asked, not hiding her resentment.
“Your mom had a nervous breakdown. That’s not a good environment for a thirteen-year-old.”
“I would have been fine,” Veronique stubbornly replied. Her heart ached at the memory of being sent away so soon after Daddy’s death. She had felt gutted over the loss and very out of place in the prissy all-girl boarding school. “Fred just wanted to get rid of me.”
“That’s not fair, Ronnie. He loves you.”
She looked heavenward and waved a dismissive hand.
Nick’s hands wrapped around her shoulders and squeezed lightly. “He’s a good man. I respect the hell out of him. You should too.” He dropped his hands to his sides as he waited for her answer.
Veronique didn’t want to argue with Nick about her stepdad. Her relationship with Fred was formal and cordial at best. No matter how much Maman tried to bring them together, he’d always be the one who had separated them. They might not be similar in personality and style, but Veronique loved Maman, and she couldn’t help blaming Fred for all the time she’d spent away from home in the stifling boarding school run by an oppressively strict staff. Most of the girls had spent their time obsessing about boyfriends and getting married. Not her, she’d spent her time plotting how soon she could leave and spread her wings.
A trickle of sweat slid between Veronique’s breasts and also down her spine. It felt hot already, yet it was only eight o’clock in the morning. By noon, sweltering, humid heat would engulf them and unfortunately, the power hadn’t been restored. She’d changed from Nick’s T-shirt to the sundress she’d arrived in. Light as it was, the fabric felt sticky against her warm skin. She wished she could dive in the pool and cool off, but it was filled with the storm’s debris.
If the roads into town looked anything like his yard, it would be few days before she’d be able to venture into town. That meant more time with Nick.
Nick ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Let’s go inside and listen to the news. Soon as the roads are cleared and the causeway is open, you’re heading back.”
Gosh, it was as if he’d just read her thoughts. Veronique’s heart sank at his resolute tone. Why couldn’t the stubborn man ch
ill and let her stay a little longer?
“You sound like a broken record. I already agreed to go back. You don’t have to keep reminding me,” she grumbled.
“Good,” he grunted. “It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed seeing you again, Ronnie. I just need to be alone.”
Her mood lightened when he admitted he’d enjoyed seeing her again. She smiled and didn’t budge an inch as she stood before him. Nick didn’t move a muscle either. Her gaze caught on his mouth, and she swallowed a pleasurable sigh at the thrilling memory of his kiss last night. Her glance lowered to the smooth brown column of his neck. He had felt strong and solid with her arms wrapped around him. The vivid memory made her want to wrap her arms around him now.
Nick’s bronze chest and wide shoulders rocked her senses. He was brown all over, his body a beautiful array of sinew, ridges and well-defined muscle. She’d had a hard time keeping her eyes averted when he’d walked out this morning clad only in a pair of faded, low rise jeans.
She sucked in a breath and took in her fill of his male beauty. She would have loved to glide her hand over his chiseled torso. She felt his penetrating eyes on the top of her head. When she glanced up, her mouth parted and her breath came in shallow pants as she gazed at him, wide-eyed and tingling with desire.
“Don’t look at me that way.” Nick’s voice held a compelling edge.
Her breath hitched in her chest. “Why not?” she asked softly, not taking her eyes from his mouth. She took a step closer and waited.
“We’re not going there again.” His voice sounded low and gravelly…and hot.
She knew he was referring to their kisses last night. Disappointment over his restraint made her heart sink.
She shook her head ruefully. “You have more willpower than I do. I liked last night.” She touched the side of his face and hoped with all her heart he’d kiss her again. But when his mouth tightened, she removed her hand. “I wish Daisy hadn’t shown up and ruined everything.”
“She’s going home today,” he stated evenly.
“Good. Glad to hear it, Señor Nicky,” Veronique said in a playful tone.
Nick pulled his sunglasses off and met her gaze with blistering blue fire. “I’m not in the mood for jokes.”
Her face heated up instantly. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I didn’t mean to annoy you.” The problem with Nick’s no-nonsense personality was that it often tempted her to tease him. This was not a good time for that. Definitely not.
“I’m curious about Daisy. How old is she?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Really? She looks younger.” Veronique searched his face for a reaction, but he remained impassive. “How long has she been working for you?”
“Long enough to know she’d better quit calling me Señor Nicky if she wants to keep her job,” he said in a tone so disgusted, Veronique had to swallow a giggle rising inside her. She managed to squelch it, but the corners of her mouth turned upward.
“She’s sneaky about getting her way. If she wasn’t such a good cook and excellent housekeeper, I’d let her go,” he said.
“I’m sure you could find someone just as good,” Veronique said casually.
“She needs the money to support her baby. She lives with her dad, who’s my gardener. Felipe’s a decent, hardworking man and he’s got his hands full with her and his grandson. Daisy is too damned impulsive.” He paused and slanted a meaningful look at her.
She lifted a challenging brow. “You think I’m too impulsive? Is that what you’re—”
The rest of her words halted when she saw a man heading toward them with a machete. Nick’s back was turned to him, but Veronique saw he was a swarthy man in combat fatigues and dirt-encrusted field boots.
Chapter Eight
“Nick. Who’s that with the machete?” Veronique said out of the corner of her mouth.
Nick turned around and surprised her by waving at the approaching man.
“You know him?”
“Yeah, he’s the gardener.” Nick strode up to the gardener and clapped him on the shoulder. “Felipe, you’re just the man I wanted to see.”
Felipe nodded. “I’m here to help, but first I have to find Daisy. Is she here?”
Nick frowned. “Yeah, she’s here. Didn’t you know?”
“No. I told her not to go to your house. She must have walked all the way over.” He raised his hands in a gesture of despair. “Or hitched a ride.”
“I had no idea your daughter was here until she came running out of the guesthouse last night when a tree hit the window.”
Felipe’s ire dissolved into fatherly concern. “Was she hurt?”
“No, she’s fine. Sorry, Felipe. Daisy told me you knew she was here.”
Felipe’s face and neck turned red. “I didn’t. Where is she?”
“In the kitchen. Come on,” Nick said in a resigned tone.
Felipe set the machete down and muttered in Spanish under his breath.
Nick motioned toward Veronique. “By the way, this is Veronique Whitcomb. She’s visiting from New York.”
“Nice to meet you,” Felipe mumbled, clearly agitated and not up to meeting anyone.
“Same here,” Veronique said brightly. She was more than pleased to meet him. His arrival would take Daisy out of their hair.
They found Daisy in the kitchen at the gas stove with Baxter at her feet. The tempting aroma of sizzling bacon, fried eggs and freshly brewed coffee made Veronique’s stomach growl.
Daisy’s back was turned as she slid the eggs onto a white ceramic platter. Wearing skimpy red shorts and a snug white tank top, her round hips jiggled to the beat of the Spanish song she sang in a throaty voice. An apron was tied around her waist and her long black ponytail reached the apron ties just above her behind. The edge of her shorts barely covered where her full bottom cheeks met curvy thighs, and the girl’s firm, golden flesh didn’t have an ounce of cellulite.
Was this Daisy’s usual work attire? Veronique hoped not. Nick was sure getting an eyeful today. She stole a glance at him, fully expecting his eyes to be glued to Daisy Duke’s provocative posterior, but they weren’t. His attention was on Felipe, who looked spitting mad.
“Daisy! What are you doing here?” Felipe demanded.
In mid-song, Daisy whirled around and greeted her father with a sassy smile. “Oh, hi, Papi. I was making breakfast for Señor Nick.”
She held up the platter of eggs and bacon. Ignoring her father’s irate face, she carried it to the kitchen table and set it down.
“Look,” Daisy said, pointing to the nicely set table.
“I told you not to come here last night!” Felipe thundered in Spanish. “Why did you lie to me?”
Daisy darted a mortified glance at Nick. “I didn’t lie. I was going to stay with Doña Miriam like I told you, but when I got to her house, her son had already taken her to Fort Myers.”
They argued in rapid fire Spanish and Veronique understood most of it. From the annoyed look on his face, Nick did too.
Felipe’s dark eyes glowered with censure. “Your mother spoils you too much, watching your baby and making life easy. You should have been home taking care of Manolito. He’s sick.”
Daisy quickly switched to English. “Mami knows better how to take care of him. Don’t be mad, Papi. I came to help Señor Nick. He’s been so generous with us—” she said, giving Nick a sidelong glance from beneath her curly lashes.
“Yes, too generous with you. You will work clearing the yard with me today,” Felipe said firmly.
“No! You know I hate to work outside.” Daisy’s hands formed fists at her sides as she stood in rigid defiance before her father. The nostrils of her tip-tilted nose flared and her cheeks turned crimson beneath flashing eyes. “Señor Nick needs me here,” she said, gesturing toward the pans on the stove.
“Don’t worry about that. I can help with the housework,” Veronique interjected, eliciting a raised brow from Nick.
Daisy gave her a hate stare. �
�You?” she spat out scornfully.
“Be quiet,” Felipe commanded his daughter.
Baxter’s ears pulled back and he began to growl.
“I’ll say what I want.” Daisy untied her apron, tossed it to the floor and ran toward the door. Baxter got up from his prone position and followed.
“Come back here, Bax,” Nick commanded. The lab came to his side and nudged Nick’s hand with his snout. He patted the top of Baxter’s head. “Good boy.”
Felipe yelled after Daisy, “Where are you going?”
A slammed door was her only response as she flew outside.
Felipe turned to Nick. “I apologize for Daisy. She acts like a child sometimes. She’s nineteen and should know better!” Red-faced, he retreated from the kitchen.
Nick looked disgusted when Felipe closed the door. “Nineteen? Hell, she lied about that too. I knew she was taking night classes at the junior college, but I had no idea she was so young.”
Veronique raised her eyebrows. “Why would she tell you otherwise?” she asked as she filled two mugs with steaming coffee from the stovetop percolator and joined him at the table. If Daisy was taking night classes, she must have been a good student in high school.
Nick shrugged. “Beats me.” He took the outstretched mug from her. “Aah,” he said, inhaling the strong aroma. “She makes good coffee though. Let’s eat.”
“Hold it. We have to conserve water. Let’s use the paper plates I brought.” Veronique made short work of replacing the dishes with paper plates and the flatware with plastic utensils.
She slowly chewed a strip of perfectly crisp bacon while she watched Nick dig into his food with gusto. The recent exchange between Daisy and her dad had left a bad taste in her mouth. Nick, on the other hand, was relishing his breakfast.
“Gotta hand it to her. Daisy is a good cook, even though she doesn’t tell the truth,” Veronique acknowledged. She raised her brows and met his gaze. “She was cooking up more than breakfast in that outfit. Felipe looked furious.”
“Can’t say that I blame him. She shouldn’t have lied.” Nick set his fork down and splayed his hands out in a stretch. “There’s too much damn drama going on around here. That girl is outta control.”
Heart Raider (Heartthrob Series, Book 1) Page 6