And when they got back to the Biltmore, they wiped their feet and put their shoes back on, and Edie combed her hair. She had no doubt that her grandparents would have been scandalized at the lack of dress code at the Biltmore these days. Some things had indeed changed.
But others—like two people staring into each other’s eyes over a candlelight dinner—had not.
The meal was lovely—fresh caught seafood, pasta cooked to order, fresh salad greens. The wine was superb. Nick chose it, raised his glass and clinked it against hers, his gaze smoldering as he said, “To you, Ms. Daley.” His voice was ragged.
Edie raised her own glass, looking deep into his eyes. “To you, Mr. Savas.” In her heart she said, To us.
They skipped dessert. All the tortes and flans and tarts and cheesecakes looked delicious. The zabaglione, Edie knew from experience, was to die for. But she didn’t even hesitate tonight.
Something better waited for them at home.
They barely spoke as Nick drove them back. He held her hand even as he drove. The only time he let go was when they reached the house and they got out of opposite sides of the car. But Nick caught her hand in his before they climbed the stairs.
They had made love in his bed in her old room in Mona’s house. They had made love by the pool. Once they had even made love at the adobe on the old madras cotton bedspread Edie had brought to lay out their picnics on.
But mostly they came here—to her bed. And while Edie would have loved Nick anywhere, she liked making love with him here best.
Her carriage house flat was small and not at all lavish. But it was her home and, as much as anywhere on earth, it held pieces of her heart. Here was the photo of her dad with his arms around her and Ronan, taken on Christmas morning, just a month before he died. Here was the photo of Mona with all her children around her—a motley crew, but deeply beloved. Here were the memories she had of Ben—a carving he’d done for her when they’d lived in Fiji, a tiny outrigger he’d made when he’d been researching on one of the small islands and she’d spent three whole weeks without him, a box containing all the postcards she’d sent her mother while she and Ben were abroad. Mona had given them to her just last year.
“Because you can handle remembering now,” her mother had said. “You can look back with love. And you can move on.”
At the time Edie hadn’t been sure. But though Mona’s gift might have been a bit premature, she was right. Edie was ready now. And she was glad Nick was willing to make love to her here.
Roy went shooting out the door the minute they came in. But in a few minutes, he was back looking for dinner. Gerald, the cat, meowed plaintively and wove his way between their feet, indignant that he hadn’t had his evening meal.
“I know you’re hungry,” Edie said to him. She reached for his bowl and a can of cat food.
Nick stood behind her, kissing her neck, making her shiver with longing. His hands played lightly over her breasts. “In case you haven’t noticed,” he murmured, “I’m hungry, too.”
“Gerald would say you had a wonderful meal,” Edie told him, opening the can and scooping food into the dish. “Fresh sword-fish. Yum.”
“To a neutered feline, the food of gods, no doubt.” Nick nibbled along the her partially exposed shoulder. “I’ve got better things to feast on.”
She put the dish of food down for the cat, and felt herself scooped into Nick’s arms and carried through to the bedroom.
Nick dropped her lightly onto the bed, then fell down beside her, stroked her clothes off and in a matter of moments shed his own. Then, at her urging, he settled his hard muscled body over hers. And Edie opened to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and let him feast his fill.
They loved with fierce intensity, their bodies hot and slick with sweat as they drove each other to frenzied completion. But after their coupling, neither of them slept. They held each other close. They slept and woke and loved again, then slept some more.
It was close to dawn when she stroked his whisker roughened jaw. He threaded his fingers through her hair. She kissed her way along his collarbone, then down the center of his chest, to nuzzle his navel, then moved lower.
Nick sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re going to kill me,” he said raggedly.
“I’m hungry, too.” Edie lifted her head to look at him through the curtain of her hair. Then she went back to kissing and nibbling, touching him with her tongue, making him groan, wringing him out, until he pulled her up and settled her over him and drew her down to take him in.
His breath hissed between his teeth as she rode him.
They shattered together, and Edie collapsed against him, heard his heart thundering against her ear. His arms held her close, circled her back, his lips pressed against her hair.
“Dear God, what have you done to me?” he whispered.
And Edie lifted her head and looked up at him, then reached up to brush a lock of hair off his forehead as she smiled and, trusting her instincts, gave him her heart as she had just given him her body.
“I love you, Nick,” she told him. Then she eased away and drew herself across his chest to touch her lips to his. “I love you,” she told him. “I love you.”
He went still. Rigid. His gaze, which moments ago had been fierce with passion, was blank now. Dark and unreadable. Remote. His fingers, which had tangled in her hair and played along her spine, moved away, pulled back.
All that was left was a strained, haunted look in his eyes as he rasped out a single harsh word. “Don’t.”
CHAPTER NINE
“DON’T what?”
Something was different. Wrong.
She could feel it. Could see it in Nick’s face. A muscle in his jaw twitched. His teeth seemed clenched, and when he opened his mouth he drew a slow breath before he said evenly, “Don’t fall in love with me.”
Edie swallowed. Then she smiled and tried desperately to recapture the intimacy of their lovemaking, saying gamely, “Too late. I already have.”
She would have rested her head against his chest once more, but he reached out and caught her arms, lifting her away from him, settling her on the bed while he shoved away.
“Nick?” She reached out a hand to him.
But he didn’t see it. He was already off the bed with his back turned, reaching for his clothes, his voice still harsh as he muttered, “Damn it.”
Damn it? Damn what?
Edie sat up, drawing the sheet around her naked body, suddenly cold as she stared at Nick’s back. It was the same back, broad and strong and smooth, that she’d run her fingers over only minutes ago, the same whose spine those fingers had tripped lightly down.
Now it was a wall, keeping her out, his hard, tense muscles almost quivering with emotion. “Nick.”
He spun around to face her. “You knew better,” he said harshly.
Knew better than to fall in love with him, he meant. She understood what he was accusing her of. But she knew something else with even more certainty.
“I know you,” she said with quiet conviction. “You love me, too.”
He gave his head a quick, sharp shake. “No.”
The flat denial was like a blow. Emotionally it rocked her, but outwardly she refused to flinch. “No? Then what are we doing here?” She waved her hand to encompass not just the room, not just the bed where they had just spent the night in each other’s arms, but everything that had happened between them since he’d come to Santa Barbara. “What have we been doing this past month?”
He met her gaze. “Enjoying each other.”
Now it was Edie’s turn to shake her head. “No. It’s more than that.”
But Nick folded his arms across his chest. “You’re dreaming,” he told her. “You’re seeing what you want to see.”
What she wanted to see—love, commitment, honesty, a future, the two of them together for the rest of their lives—yes, indeed, that’s exactly what she was seeing.
“What’s wrong with that?” she asked him
. When she had given him those words a few minutes ago, warm and languid from their lovemaking, the world had seemed golden, full of promise. Now, in the face of his implacability she felt as if a cloud had crossed the sun.
“It’s not going to happen.”
“You’re saying you don’t care?” she said slowly.
“I care.” At least he would admit that. “You’re a friend. You’re a wonderful woman.” His words were awkward, but the sentiment was worse. It came out stilted and insincere, stabbing her like a knife.
But she managed a brittle smile. “A good lover?” she suggested with saccharine sweetness. All her earlier euphoria was evaporating now. She felt cold and hurt and scared. Worse, almost, than when she’d learned that Ben had died. Ben couldn’t help what had happened.
But Nick—Nick was choosing to reject her love, to deny her and himself.
“A good lover. A great lover,” he corrected, not hearing or admitting to hearing her bitterness. He had stepped into his shorts, but he paused and smiled at her now before pulling on his trousers, as if she might forget this nonsense, invite him back to bed and give him an encore.
Not a chance.
Edie got out of bed, too. She felt sick. Her whole body was trembling. She didn’t believe what he was saying, but she knew that didn’t matter.
What mattered was that Nick believed it.
She began dressing quickly, as if putting on clothes would somehow warm her. But of course it wasn’t the day that was cold, it was the feeling growing inside her. “I’ll be sure to put that on my résumé.” She could barely get the words out past the lump in her throat. She struggled into her shirt and began to fumble with the buttons. Damn her fingers, anyway.
Nick’s gaze narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She turned her back to him and stepped into her canvas pants. “Just saying.” She tried to toe her sandals out from under the bed. Somehow getting dressed fully was important. It was like putting on armor. Too late, perhaps, but she did what she had to do.
She had her pants zipped up when Nick reached out and caught her by the arm. “Edie.”
She tried to pull away, but he held her fast, drew her around so that he looked down into her face. His dear face. His beloved face. His resolutely, implacably closed face.
“You’re making too much out of this.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he insisted. “We have a good thing.”
“I thought we did,” she agreed, her throat aching. “I hoped.” Her voice broke.
Damn it! She didn’t want to betray how badly this was hurting her. But then, why not? She’d already admitted to loving him.
“You knew that wasn’t on. It wasn’t what I wanted. Ever,” he insisted. “We discussed it.”
“What about what I wanted?” she demanded.
He just looked at her. “You’re changing the rules.”
“Me? You changed them when you came after me!”
He opened his mouth, and for a moment she thought he might deny it. But then he just pressed his lips together in a grim line and shrugged. “It was a good night.”
As if he’d done it all because of that. “You came halfway around the world! You took on the restoration of a third-class adobe ranch house when you could have been doing an historically significant Scottish castle.”
“I’m going to do the castle. It’s where I’m going next.”
“When you finish here?”
“Yes.”
“When you finish with me!”
Her words made a muscle in his jaw jump. His eyes flashed at the deliberate provocation. Deny it, she begged him silently.
But he didn’t. “Yes.” The word hissed furiously between his teeth.
She wrenched out of his grasp. “Fine. I’ll save you the trouble.” She jammed her feet into her sandals, grabbed her phone off the bedside table and clattered down the stairs.
Nick hurtled after her and caught her at the door. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“What? Where are you going? You live here!”
“Yes, well, I don’t want to be here right now.” And she grabbed a sweater off the back of a chair and her purse and car keys off the kitchen table.
“Come on,” she said to Roy.
“Edie! Stop it. Don’t be ridiculous. If someone needs to go, I’ll leave.”
“Fine. Leave. Go to hell. I don’t care.” Which was a lie, of course. She wouldn’t be close to tears if she didn’t care, if she didn’t love him with all her heart. She wrenched open the door and clattered down the stairs, Roy following.
Nick came after her in hot pursuit. “Edie! Damn it!”
But she didn’t stop. She didn’t listen. And she had no intention of standing there listening to Nick tell her that she was being unreasonable. Reason had nothing whatever to do with this. Her response to him had been gut-level since the moment she’d seen him across the dance floor talking to her sister. It had been gut-level when he’d come back, though she’d tried her best to avoid allowing her emotions to control things. For the past month, after learning it had been his idea to come here, not her mother’s to bring him, she had dared to believe that he had trusted his emotions as well.
Apparently not. Apparently he was as determined not to care as he’d ever been. So she wasn’t staying here. Couldn’t. Not now. Not when there was no future for them.
“Edie! For heaven’s sake!”
But Edie wasn’t listening. She opened the door of her car, let Roy jump in, then climbed in beside him, stuck the key in the ignition and started the engine.
“Don’t be an idiot!” He grabbed the door, but not soon enough. She’d hit the power locks an instant before. “Edie!”
But she put the car in gear and took off, refusing to look back, blinking away tears as she went. So much for trusting her instincts.
He let her go.
There was no point in jumping in his car and going after her.
He didn’t want her doing something reckless, something foolish. Though it seemed, despite his warning, she already had: she’d fallen in love with him.
There was no point in trying to talk to her, to make her see that wanting too much was asking for trouble, tempting fate. Though God knew, she of all people, having lost a husband, ought to understand about tempting fate.
So be it, he thought as he stood there, staring as the taillights of her car disappeared around the curve in the driveway. But even as he did so, he willed her to slow down, to turn the car around, to come back and wrap her arms around him, to let him wrap his around her, to be grateful for what they had.
It was enough, damn it! She ought to be satisfied with that. He was, he told himself as he punched his fist into the garage retaining wall.
She drove to the beach out by the university, parked her car and began to walk. And walk. It would clear her head, she told herself. It would give her some perspective. It was where she had gone after the debacle with Kyle.
She’d been standing there, staring out at the water, wallowing in mortification, when Ben had jogged by her, stopped and grinned and said, “I know you.”
What followed, of course, had changed her life completely.
She wasn’t the same person she’d been in those days. At eighteen she had been innocent and idealistic. Kyle’s perfidy had wounded her pride and made her feel foolish for having believed they had something when they hadn’t.
But at twenty-five she had a great deal more life experience. She knew what was real and what was a pipe dream. She was sure she wasn’t wrong believing that she and Nick could have something special. She was sure he loved her just as she loved him.
Nick was the one who was wrong. He didn’t believe. He didn’t trust.
And she couldn’t make him.
Neither could she take back the words she’d spoken. There was no going back, no way of pretending.
She wasn’t sorry. She couldn’t have lived that lie. She wouldn’t
live it.
But she couldn’t stay here, either. Not if he was going to stay.
She sighed and stared out toward the islands, tried to think what to do, where to go, how to handle the disaster her life was becoming.
Down the beach toward her, a man came jogging. He had dark shaggy hair like Ben. He was lean and slightly knock-kneed like Ben. He came closer. And closer—and ran straight past her without even glancing her way.
Edie smiled a wry self-deprecating smile. There was no Ben to rescue her this time. No Ben could. Not this time. Because this time her love was real, and no amount of serendipity would allow her to deny it.
But that was the thing about serendipity. You couldn’t predict it. Never in a million years would she had guessed her mobile phone would ring that moment and Mona would say, “Ruud’s broken his leg.”
Bangkok was hot and steamy and crowded. Edie was crumpled, exhausted and hollow-eyed, wishing she was numb twenty-four hours later when Mona fell on her neck in gratitude.
“Oh, thank God, you’re here!”
Edie stood in the middle of the main room of Mona’s beautiful old teak house and let herself be swept into her mother’s embrace. She tottered a little under the impact of Mona’s enthusiasm, then got her balance as Mona gave her one more squeeze and stepped back to assess her from head to toe.
“Good heavens, you look terrible.”
Thank you very much, Edie thought. Terrible was actually an improvement on how she felt. She was exhausted physically, shattered emotionally and still unable to get Nick out of her head.
“Surely the flights weren’t that bad.” Mona was towing her toward one of the rattan sofas and pushing her down.
“No,” Edie said. The flights had nothing to do with it.
“Rhiannon?” Mona guessed. “I know she and Andrew have been having a set-to again.”
“Have they?” Edie didn’t know that. She supposed Rhiannon might have said, but she’d been too busy with Nick to pay much attention.
“Don’t cover for them,” Mona said firmly. “And I know I have wanted you to make things right in the past, but honestly, Edie, don’t worry about them. If they can’t solve their own love life problems, it’s not your job to do it for them.”
The Night that Changed Everything Page 16