Addicted to Nick
Page 17
“Can we handle the formalities later, Yvonne?” he asked.
The woman tutted something about unknown quantities, and something definitely unreserved sparked in his eyes. “I can vouch for this lady’s check, Yvonne.”
“Are you certain?”
“I believe I wrote it myself.”
Yvonne’s raised eyebrows almost disappeared off her forehead as she added up the score. T.C. felt the weight of a dozen calculating gazes, but there was only one that mattered. It had turned intent, serious, questioning. Her smile was tentative as she held up his check.
“You said if I didn’t want it I should give it to charity. I liked the sound of this one.”
“It does good work.”
“Yes, you do.”
Yvonne cleared her throat, and impatience or irritation flickered in Nick’s eyes. But he turned to her and smiled. “We will handle the formalities tomorrow. All right?”
But it wasn’t a question, not really.
“And could we have a little privacy right now?”
That wasn’t a question, either. The group dispersed amid some unsettled muttering, and finally they were alone…alone with a room full of curious onlookers pretending not to watch.
Nick turned his impatient, irritated gaze on her, and T.C. felt her stomach dip. “Now, you want to tell me what this is all about?”
“Well, according to the catalogue, I have bought an adventure weekend with you as my personal guide.” She took a deep, nervous gulp of air. “Now, I know it’s rather short notice, but I was wondering if you would have this weekend free?”
“You have something in mind?”
She held nothing back when she looked right into his eyes. “I believe I owe you some backstory.”
“You needed to come all the way over here, to pay an exorbitant amount of money, to talk to me?”
“I hope it will be worth it.”
He gave nothing away in the next moment—a long breath-held moment that meant more to T.C. than any single moment that had ever come before.
Then he gave a swift nod of his head, murmured, “We’ll see what you’ve got to say, then,” and his voice sounded as dark and compelling as the hour before dawn. Then he took her hand and drew her in his wake across the room, through the crowd that parted before them and closed ranks behind them. A crowd that applauded their departure as they would stars leaving the stage.
T.C.’s head was still spinning long after they climbed into the back of a cab and started for whatever address Nick had given.
She felt his gaze on her from across the cab and the distance he seemed to have put between them again. “There were easier ways of doing this, you know.”
“I know.” She took a deep breath. “But I decided I didn’t want to do this the easy way. I decided I should do something right outside that comfort zone.”
“Coming to New York wasn’t enough?”
“Not to get rid of that check.”
“It always comes back to that!”
“Yes, it does, and you want to know why?” She didn’t wait for him to say anything, for him to turn any further away from her. “I didn’t want Yarra Park or what Joe wanted for us to come between us. I wanted this to be about us, Nick, with no inheritance and no expectations interceding.”
Her impassioned plea seemed to fill the enclosed space, to suck up the very air until she felt giddy with lack of oxygen. “Expectations?” he asked slowly.
“Yeah.” She smiled, wryly. “Joe wanted us to be together. His wanting you to come over to Australia to tell me about the inheritance, his wanting me to talk you into caring for the place so you would keep it—it was a matchmaking thing. He wanted us tied together.”
He took a long time to digest those words, to turn them over and to formulate his response. And all the while Tamara’s heart beat a heady tattoo in her chest.
“And so you wanted to get rid of these ties. You didn’t want to be tied to me?”
Here it was. The moment when she put it all on the line. She took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to be tied to you by other people or by property. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want you.”
“And you couldn’t tell me this before I left Australia?”
“Ridiculous, huh? But I needed to sort it out in my head first, and I needed to take a huge dose of courage, and I needed Cheryl to talk some sense into me.”
For the first time he smiled, and it was as if that simple action released an unbearable pressure in her chest. “If she talked you into paying half a million for a weekend with me, then I’m not sure we’re talking sense here.”
“Oh, I think it might be worth it.”
He sobered instantly, and she could feel the intensity of his gaze from across the cab. “You still haven’t answered my question. Do you want to be tied to me?”
“I do.” She smiled hesitantly. “But only in whatever way you want that to be. I know that I’m difficult, and I know I don’t like change, and I know I’m not always courageous.”
He stopped her by taking her hand, lifting it to his lips. “It took a whole lot of courage to do what you did tonight, Tamara.”
“Maybe, but I’m no prize, and I don’t want you to think you owe me anything.”
This time he stopped her by kissing her lips.
“Will you stop prevaricating and get to the point? Do you love me? Is that what you are trying to say? Because that sure as hell is all I want to hear from you, sweet lips.”
But the look in his eyes gave the lie to the frustration in his words. They were smiling and offering exactly the right dose of encouragement. They invited her; they coaxed her; they gave her courage.
“I love you, Nick, but that doesn’t mean you have to—”
“I love you, okay? Now will you stop trying to let me off the hook?” His touched a gentle finger to her lips. “You’re what I’ve been searching for.”
“The ultimate challenge?” she asked wryly.
He laughed, the sound low and sweet and jammed full of his feelings for her. “Well, sweetheart, I figure you are looking like one hell of a lifetime challenge.” Then his eyes turned serious. “But I meant I’d been searching for the place I belonged. You are that place, Tamara. You are my home. I love you, green eyes.”
Tears pooled in those eyes and spilled over, sliding down her cheeks as Nick took her mouth, as he kissed her in the way only he knew how, and she didn’t bother hiding them. She let them fall as she kissed him back, as she touched his cheeks, his hair, as she breathed against his lips, “Welcome home, Niccolo.”
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0318-1
ADDICTED TO NICK
Copyright © 2001 by Bronwyn Turner
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