The Night that Changed Everything

by Anne McAllister

  He didn’t realize it meant she’d left!

  But when he got back to the house that afternoon, still fuming, still horny, definitely deter mined to confront her, to tell her she could damned well stop saying one thing while her body wanted something else, she wasn’t there.

  Roy was there—in the house, waiting.

  So was a note on the kitchen counter: Out this evening. Lasagna in the refrigerator. I fed Roy.

  She hadn’t even bothered to sign it.

  An irritated breath hissed through Nick’s teeth. He didn’t eat the damned lasagna. It was Friday night. He wasn’t going to spend it with a dog for company. He took a shower, then went into town in search of a good meal—and a little companionship. A woman. Someone to take his mind off Edie Daley.

  If she wasn’t going to share his bed, he was willing to bet he could find a woman who would.

  He found a very good meal with no trouble at all. Santa Barbara had its share of fine dining. And afterward he met several young women at a sports bar just off State Street.

  They were all too chattery and giggly or too blowsy and flirty. Their hair was too short or too blonde. They were too tall unless they were too short. Not one stirred his hormones in the slightest.

  He drank a beer, talked a bit to the bartender and watched some baseball. Then, feeling more out of sorts than ever, he drove back to Mona’s. Alone.

  Roy was delighted. The dog wagged his tail madly, bumping his head against the back of Nick’s thighs as he followed him into the sitting room. What it told Nick was that she hadn’t come back yet. If she had, she would have reclaimed him.

  It was past eleven. Hardly the witching hour, but where the hell was she?

  He prowled the downstairs of the house, the dog at his heels. All evening he hadn’t let himself wonder where she’d gone. It was her business. Not his. He didn’t care.

  Every time his thoughts had veered in her direction, he’d turned them away again or skipped right over them. Easy enough while he was watching the ball game. Not quite so simple when he was struck by the endless shortcomings of women who were not her. Even less so now that it was going on eleven-thirty and she wasn’t here.

  Did she expect him to babysit her dog all evening?

  Nick jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and glowered out through the French doors at the sparkling turquoise of the pool set in the darkness of the garden. Then he jerked as his phone vibrated against his hand.

  Surprised, he pulled it out of his pocket to stare at the number calling. It wasn’t one he recognized.

  He felt a quick skip beat of his heart as he flipped the phone open. “Savas. Where the hell are you?”

  “Thailand. Where the hell are you?”

  “Mona?”

  It was, of course. No one else, not even Edie, had that sultry, sexy, immediately recognizable voice.

  “Where are you?” she demanded again. “Are you in Santa Barbara? Working on the house? Where’s Edie?” The questions came fast and furious.

  Nick rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Yes, I’m in Santa Barbara,” he said impatiently. “Yes, working on the house. And I don’t know where Edie is.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not her keeper,” he snapped.

  “No?” Mona said with just enough inflection in her voice to raise the hairs on the back of his neck.

  “No,” Nick said shortly.

  “Whatever you say, dear.” Mona brushed him off. “But you have seen her? She is there?”

  “She was this afternoon,” he said gruffly.

  “Ah.” One syllable. It was no wonder she was an actress. She could put layers of meaning into two letters.

  Nick didn’t reply. Wherever she was taking this conversation, he wasn’t going willingly.

  “Has something happened?” From her first fast and furious questions, Mona now sounded concerned.

  Nick flexed his shoulders, kneaded the back of his neck, remembered that Edie’s lips had touched him there and abruptly dropped his hand. “Happened? No, of course not.”

  Whatever happened—or hadn’t—it was none of Mona’s business.

  “Well, she’s not answering her phone,” Mona said, clearly put out. “Edie always answers.”

  “That’s ridiculous. It’s almost midnight here,” Nick reminded her. “She should have some time off. Maybe she’s asleep.”

  “She’d hear her phone.”

  Or has a life, Nick wanted to press the issue, but didn’t. Instead he said, “Maybe she didn’t want to answer it.”

  Mona dismissed that idea with a mere pffft sound. “I need to talk to her. Tell her I need to talk to her.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “Tell her to call me.” And Mona rang off.

  In the silence afterward, Nick stood glaring at the phone, not sure who he was most annoyed at—Edie or her mother.

  Or himself—for not having taken up an invitation from one of the too giggly, too flirty, too blonde, too short or too tall women he’d met this evening.

  Derek Saito was a nice guy. He was funny and charming and better looking than Edie remembered. He’d grown up, filled out and developed an easy, wry sense of humor since she and Ben had spent time with him back in their college days. He taught high school English, was unattached—”Heart whole”—he assured her, and he was obviously interested in her.

  Equally obviously Derek was the steady nonmercurial sort of guy she should be interested in if she was seriously considering a relationship.

  But she wasn’t—interested, that is. Not in Derek.

  It was as if the hormones that had been all wide-awake and raring to go when she’d been in Nick’s arms this afternoon, had taken a sleeping potion as soon as Derek picked her up at her apartment.

  Not just her hormones, either. Her brain.

  They went out to dinner before the concert, and try as she might to follow Derek’s conversational leads, her mind kept clicking back to that other man, the one who was going to walk out of her life sooner rather than later, the man who made it clear he wanted to bed her—but wanted nothing else.

  She tried to keep focused, be alert, ask appropriate questions. But she knew she’d blown it when Derek, telling her about a summer high school theater production, asked if she’d read it.

  She said, “Who wrote it?”

  “Romeo and Juliet?” The pained smile on his face would stick in her mind forever. Or if it didn’t, it should.

  Her cheeks burned. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know where my brain is. I—” she shook her head “—I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  No lie there.

  Derek’s expression softened and he nodded understandingly. “I’m sure it’s still difficult,” he said, reaching across the table to give her hand a light pat. “I’m just glad you came out with me tonight.”

  “I am, too,” Edie said fervently, though certainly not for the same reasons. “Which scenes are they doing?” she asked, and managed not to make any more grievous gaffes for the rest of the evening.

  The concert was loud and raucous, but with enough beach and surf music as well as later rowdier stuff that meant pretty much everyone there had a good time.

  Edie did, too. But she couldn’t help wondering what sort of music Nick liked. They had never discussed music. And never would—because after today she was going to have to stay completely away from him until he finished the house.

  Or maybe this time, she thought as Derek turned off the winding road and into the estate grounds, when she got home, he really would be gone.

  The night was dark with a bit less than half a moon casting silver light amid deep shadows as they drove up the curving lane through the eucalyptus. Ahead, through the tree trunks, as they climbed the hill, Edie could see lights on in Mona’s house. She reached for her purse on the floor of the car, and rehearsed her best, well-brought-up thank-you for the lovely evening speech as Derek took the last turn.

  Nick’s
car was parked in front of the garage. The sight made her heart do a wholly undesirable cartwheel.

  Deliberately she turned her attention on Derek. “It’s been great.”

  He cut the engine and turned her way, smiling, too. “It has. I’m glad we did it.”

  She couldn’t see his eyes, but she heard genuine friendliness in his voice, and perhaps a hint of regret. “So good to see you again. And the food was terrific.”

  Derek nodded. “Best place in town for fish tacos.” His grin flashed in the moonlight. “Don’t let anyone tell you I don’t know how to give a girl a good time.”

  “It was a good time, Derek.” She put her hand on the door handle. “Thank you.”

  He got out, too. She knew he would. Didn’t know how to prevent it. Hoped he wouldn’t be offended by the faintest of kisses good-night. Keeping a smile on her face, Edie headed toward the carriage house and stopping at the bottom of the steps, she turned. “Thank you again, Derek.”

  He smiled, a sort of wry, understanding smile. “It was my pleasure.”

  There was a moment when she thought she might not have to kiss him. But when he leaned in, she knew she couldn’t turn her head away. It was the faintest brush. Nothing more. Her hormones didn’t even notice.

  “I’ll ask my mother about talking to the class in the fall,” she said. “But I don’t know when I’ll talk to her again. She doesn’t seem to be answering her phone.”

  “Oh, she is now,” a gruff, wholly unexpected voice said.

  Edie jumped and spun around to see Nick come striding toward them out of the darkness. “She wants you to call her. Tonight.”

  She didn’t know how he did it, but somehow he was standing between her and Derek, looming like some interfering father whose daughter had missed curfew.

  “This is Nick Savas,” she said to Derek. “He’s working on restoring the old adobe ranch house. For my mother,” she added pointedly, though she wasn’t sure who she wanted to get the point—Derek or Nick.

  “She wanted to know where you were,” Nick went on as if she hadn’t said a word. “Who you were out with.” His tone made it clear he wasn’t impressed with Derek.

  “Thank you,” Edie bit out. She didn’t bother to introduce Derek. Nick was obviously in no mood to listen. “It was kind of you to stay up and relay the message—”

  “Oh, I wasn’t sleeping,” Nick drawled. “I’ve been out. On the town. Just got home myself.” He gave her a hard smile.

  Edie felt the dart. He certainly hadn’t wasted his time.

  Derek, who had been watching their exchange as if they were on center court at Wimbledon, spoke up. “Well, don’t let us keep you up,” he said easily to Nick.

  Edie looked at him in surprise and not a little admiration for his willingness to go nose to nose with Nick’s impersonation of a pit bull guarding his bone.

  Now Nick’s teeth came together with a snap. His whole body seemed to almost vibrate with tension. And Edie thought that, interesting as it was, watching men trying to mark their territory, she really didn’t much like being the “territory” in question.

  And she didn’t want Derek getting his butt kicked.

  So she said to him, “I think I will just go call her now. How about if I call you in the morning and give you her answer?”

  Derek seemed to hesitate a moment, but then nodded. “Appreciate it.” His dark eyes held hers and he gave her a long, assessing look, as if he were reevaluating everything he’d thought earlier this evening.

  As well he might.

  Then he looked at Nick. “I’m a friend of Edie’s—and her husband’s,” he added, establishing his right to be protective. The air seemed to hum between them. Then apparently Derek felt he’d made his point. He turned and walked back to his car.

  Edie stood right where she was until Derek had got into his car, turned it round and driven off. Beside her, Nick stood like a sentry. She felt a serious urge to kick him.

  “You could have waited,” she said through her teeth.

  Nick shrugged. “You could have said where you were going.”

  They didn’t look at each other, both stood on the gravel in the darkness watching Derek’s car move down the hill around the bend until the taillights were out of sight.

  Only then did Edie move away briskly toward Mona’s house to get Roy. “I didn’t imagine you’d care,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  “Your mother cared.”

  Her mother cared. He didn’t. And that was the long and short of it, right there.

  “I’ll call her,” Edie said, opening the door to Roy who shot out eagerly and danced around her. She ruffled his fur. “Come on then,” she said.

  With the dog by her side, she walked past Nick toward her apartment. All the way there, up the stairs, until the door shut behind her, she felt his eyes on her back.

  “You rang,” Edie said when her mother finally answered her phone. She said the words with considerably more acid than she usually used when talking to her mother. Ordinarily she simply smiled and let Mona’s behavior, Mona’s theories, Mona’s view of the world sluice over her like water over a duck’s back.

  She’d learned long ago that she was her own person.

  She just wished Mona would learn it, too.

  “Are you all right?” her mother demanded now, surprising her.

  There had been eleven messages from her mother when she’d got back to her apartment and turned on her phone. The first few had been long-winded directions of things Edie needed to do and who she needed to call if she hadn’t done so already (which she had).

  After the fifth the messages began to get shorter and edgier, until the last one said, “My God, Edie! Answer your phone or I’ll think you’re dead!”

  “I’m fine,” Edie said. “I had a date.”

  “Nick said he didn’t know where you were.” Mona’s annoyance came through loud and clear.

  “I wasn’t out with Nick,” Edie said through her teeth. “And I don’t need you throwing men at me!”

  There was a moment’s silence and then Mona said, “What?”

  “You heard me,” Edie said, fed up with guilelessness that was anything but. Her mother might be an award winning actress, but she couldn’t fool Edie. “I said I don’t need you throwing men at me! I know you think I should date again. I know you think I need to get on with my life. But understand one thing, it’s my life! I’ll find my own man when I want one!”

  This time the silence lasted longer. Then Mona said almost meekly, “I’m sure you will.”

  Edie ground her teeth. “I mean it. I thought I’d made it clear after the night of the wedding in Mont Chamion. Didn’t you hear anything I said?”

  “You said,” Mona parroted carefully, “I don’t want you finding men for me. I especially don’t want you setting me up with Kyle Robbins. Do not ever do that again.”

  It was a scarily accurate impersonation of the short version of what Edie had said to her mother that night.

  “And?” Edie pressed when Mona didn’t say anything else.

  “Don’t tell me you went out with Kyle Robbins?”

  “No, damn it! I didn’t go out with Kyle. Did you send him, too?”

  “Too?”

  “Besides Nick,” Edie spat, furious that Mona wouldn’t just admit to setting her up. Again.

  “Say what?”

  “Why else would he be here?” Edie demanded.

  “Well, when he called, he said he was interested in looking at the house I’d told him about,” Mona replied.

  Edie opened her mouth. No sound came out. He’d called Mona? He’d said … what?

  “Nick called? You?”

  “Nick called me,” Mona affirmed.

  “You … didn’t call him?”

  “Edie.”

  “I’m just … trying to understand.” Edie thought she must have been standing too long. Her knees felt wobbly. She sat down and tried to think.

  “I should think it would be obviou
s,” Mona said dryly.

  Was it?

  Edie shook her head. “No,” she said, the single word soft and uncertain.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Mona said, exasperated. “Why do you think he wanted to renovate my tumbling down adobe ranch house? To pad his résumé? To impress another king? I suppose you imagine an inconsequential ranch is going to do that? I don’t think so!”

  “But then—”

  “He came for you.” Mona put it in words of one syllable.

  “But—” Once more Edie stopped, dazed, shaking her head. She’d jumped to that conclusion herself when he’d appeared on the doorstep. Her heart had leaped. Her hopes had danced. And then she’d asked, “What are you doing here?”

  And Nick had replied …?

  What had Nick replied?

  She racked her brain. He’d said nothing direct at all. No straight out statement that he’d come for her. But no denial, either. He’d said, I’ve been talking to your mother.

  Edie went perfectly still, tried to think it through. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t dare hope.

  And yet …

  “Edie?”

  She was still thinking. Her mind whirled. It didn’t make sense. Why would he have suggested he renovate the adobe unless …?

  “Are you sure he called you?” she asked her mother.

  “What is going on there?” Mona demanded. “Should I have said no? You went off with him the night I ‘threw’ Kyle at you,” she reminded Edie forcefully. “I thought you liked him.”

  “I barely knew him,” Edie said. “Then,” she added hastily, lest her mother get even worse ideas than she was already apparently entertaining. “And yes, I—I like him.”

  “So,” Mona said archly, “I’m forgiven?”

  Edie supposed she was lucky her mother wasn’t asking for an apology from her! “Yes,” she said. “As long as you don’t do it again.”

  “I’m hoping I won’t have to.” Mona’s meaning was crystal clear.

  “It’s … not as simple as you might think,” Edie said.

  “I know you loved Ben—”

  “This isn’t about Ben,” Edie said.