She wondered what it would take to make Nick lose his cool.
Just as she was thinking that, she clicked on a link to an older interview. Nick was speaking on behalf of a candidate who’d lost an arm in the Gulf War and had served in Congress for two terms. He was being challenged in his party’s primary by a candidate who accused him of being unpatriotic because he’d supported a ban on assault rifles.
Sara watched as a younger Nick faced off with the other candidate’s spokesperson. “So you think Henry Mayer is unpatriotic? I have to admit you’ve made me curious about one thing. What, exactly, is your definition of patriotism?”
“In my book, a person who supports and defends this country and its principles—including the right of its citizens to bear arms—is patriotic.”
“I see. And Henry Mayer’s service as a soldier doesn’t qualify him for that noble adjective?”
“Of course the nation is grateful for the sacrifices of its servicemen and women, but that doesn’t excuse any encroachment on the Second Amendment, or any attempt to—”
“What about the sacrifices of a parent?”
The other man was temporarily thrown. After a moment he answered, his voice a little cautious. “If you’re referring to the death of Mr. Mayer’s son in Afghanistan, he himself has declined to speak of that in connection with his campaign.”
“That’s his prerogative, of course. But I’m wondering if you’re familiar with Abraham Lincoln’s famous letter to Mrs. Bixby, a mother who lost five sons in the Civil War?”
“I…believe I have heard of it, but—”
“Let me quote it for you.” Nick paused for a moment before continuing. “‘I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours, to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of Freedom.’”
There was a short silence. “Do you have a point to make, or do you just like hearing the sound of your own voice?”
Nick smiled. “I was just wondering about your candidate. Ever since he called Henry Mayer’s patriotism into question, I’ve been waiting for the logical follow-up.”
“And that would be?”
“I’ve been waiting for him to tell us what sacrifice he’s ever laid upon the altar of freedom. What he’s risked, what he’s lost, what he’s given to this country. What creature comforts he’s ever gone without so that someone less fortunate could have food or shelter. What safety he’s ever sacrificed so that his countrymen can rest a little safer in their beds. What gift of time or money or courage he’s ever made to ensure he leaves the world a better place than he found it.”
He let the other man sputter for a few seconds before he smiled again. “I didn’t think so.” Then he shook the hand of the interview moderator, got up from the table, and left.
Wow.
So that’s what it took to make Nick lose his cool: accusing a war veteran and the father of a fallen soldier of being unpatriotic.
She doubted that anyone else seeing that interview would think that Nick had lost his cool. But having watched those other, more recent clips—not to mention having met him in person—she could see the difference. The tight jaw, the intensity in his voice, the way one of his hands had fisted briefly on the table.
Thinking about his performance in the more recent interviews, she wondered if he’d learned to mask those emotions completely or if he just didn’t feel them anymore.
Then she thought about their dinner at the Japanese restaurant. She remembered the way he’d leaned forward as he’d talked to her about Harry, the tension in his facial muscles and the brief flashes of anger in his eyes.
She’d felt so defensive in that conversation that she hadn’t thought much about those small signs of emotion, which were so much more subtle than she was used to, either in herself or in others. But the truth was, she’d gotten a glimpse behind Nick’s cool charm to the intensity that lay behind it.
And a part of her wanted to see more.
She turned off her computer and got ready for bed, wondering as she slid under the covers where Nick was sleeping. She’d been in the apartment next door a few times, and she knew that the master bedroom was on the other side of the wall from hers. Was his bed against the same wall?
It was possible that they were separated by less than a foot right now.
She closed her eyes and reminded herself that a) she was taking a break from men and b) Nick was only here for a few months.
But it was still a long time before she fell asleep.
* * *
The flowers started to arrive the next morning.
Her performance season had ended with yesterday’s matinee, so she was home to receive the six deliveries—six dozen roses altogether.
The last bunch was brought up by Nick. “I ran into the delivery guy downstairs, and I told him he could save a trip,” he explained after Sara had opened the door to his knock. He glanced at the coffee table, already occupied by five vases.
He looked back at her with one raised eyebrow, and she felt herself blushing. “I don’t even like roses,” she muttered, taking the flowers from Nick and wondering where she was going to put them, considering that all her vases were now in use. Maybe she could fit two bouquets into the biggest one.
Nick leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, looking tall and sexy and good enough to eat. And the fact that she knew exactly what he was packing under his shirt and tie was not helping with her flushed face situation.
“Harry, I take it?”
“Um, yes. He…we…I broke up with him yesterday, and he’s…”
“Doing everything he can to change your mind?”
“For now, anyway. I don’t expect this to last. We weren’t very serious or anything like that. I think Harry is just…”
“Having a hard time believing that a woman could ever actually break up with him?”
That made her smile. “Something like that.” She hesitated a moment. “Do you…want to come in for a minute?”
“Sure. I’m having dinner with my brother, but I’ve got a little time before I need to head out. I’d love a glass of that iced tea if you have any to spare.”
“Of course I do. Come on in.”
He took a seat on the couch as she went into the kitchen. She set the roses on the counter and poured two glasses of iced tea, coming out to find Nick glancing around the room.
“I guess my offering didn’t make it home from the party last night, huh?”
The flowers he’d given her were in a vase on her bedside table.
“No. I mean yes, they did. They—I—they’re in the other room.”
At least there were two bedrooms in the apartment, which had enabled her to avoid saying they’re in my bedroom.
He glanced back at her. “They are, huh?”
She nodded without meeting his eyes as she handed him his glass of iced tea.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked, taking a seat on the chair.
“Sure.”
“Why did you get me irises?”
He looked a little surprised by the question. “I thought you’d like them.”
“You were right. They’re actually my favorite flower. But how did you know that?”
“Well, I didn’t know they were your favorite. But I saw that painting the other night,” he said, nodding at the watercolor on her wall.
Somehow the fact that he’d noticed that painting, and gotten her irises because of it, seemed to epitomize all the ways in which Nick Landry was different from Harry Blake.
“Oh. Well. Thank you again.”
There was a short pause. Nick looked relaxed on her couch, one arm stretched along the back of it and the other on his knee, holding his iced tea. She, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get comfortable. She shifted in the chair, finally drawing one leg underneath her.
“So I read about Keisha Watkins,” she said after a moment.
<
br /> One eyebrow went up. “You did?”
“Yep. And you’re right, I do like her. I agree with a lot of what she says. Not that I’m very, um, politically aware,” she added. “But she’s obviously smart and sincere. So, I guess she proves your point that there are good politicians out there. If anything, she seems a little…” she stopped suddenly, wondering if Nick would be insulted by what she’d been about to say.
“A little what?”
“Well…dry. I saw one of her campaign speeches on YouTube and she was…”
“Dry?”
“Yes.”
He looked a little glum, but not insulted. “You’re right. That’s one of the reasons her campaign manager hired me, actually.”
“You’re supposed to make her more…”
“Lively. Charismatic. Relatable.”
“Ah,” Sara said, thinking of the speech she’d watched on YouTube. “How’s that going for you?”
She spoke gravely, and he grinned as he set his empty glass on the table. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Of course not. She was probably even stiffer before you started working with her. It’s hard to imagine how, unless she was a cardboard cutout, but—”
He covered his face with his hands. “Stop.”
She reached out to pat him on the knee. “It’s not that bad. She seems like a really good person, and I’m sure you’ll be able to help her.”
He looked up. Her hand was still on his knee, and he covered it with one of his.
“Thanks,” he said, smiling at her. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
There was a brief silence, broken by the buzzing of the phone in his pocket.
Sara pulled her hand away from Nick’s knee, and as he glanced at the screen to see who was calling she grabbed their iced tea glasses and brought them into the kitchen.
When she came back out again Nick was on his feet, finishing his conversation. “Sure, Chinese sounds great. I’ll pick it up on the way and see you in half an hour.”
He slid the phone back into his pocket. “I should be heading out. Thank you for the tea and sympathy.”
“Anytime.” Her hand was still tingling from his touch, and she was almost relieved he had to go.
As she closed the door behind him, she wondered how long she’d be able to hold out against her feelings. When she was with him, she wanted to touch him. When she touched him, she wanted to kiss him.
And if she ever actually kissed him, it would all be over. She’d fall deep and hard and fast, and when he went back to his life in D.C., she’d be left with a broken heart.
So no more touching, and definitely no kissing.
No matter how much she wanted to.
* * *
Nick could tell right away that Kevin was having a bad night. He was restless, eating his food quickly and then drumming his fingers on the table. They were eating in the treatment center’s dining room, which was filled with tables of various sizes, about half of them occupied. Nick and his brother were sitting over by the windows, and as Nick finished his sweet and sour chicken Kevin stared outside at the people passing by.
After a minute he looked back at Nick. “Tell me something about your life,” he said. “Something fun. Something to distract me.”
“Distract you from what?”
“Thinking.”
Nick tried not to let his worry show as he wondered what to talk about.
“I heard from Jenna this morning,” he said. Jenna Landry was their cousin and the lead guitarist for the Red Mollies, an indie rock band both he and Kevin loved. “They’re touring this summer and they’ll be in New York next month. She offered to send us tickets for the show.”
Kevin frowned. “I don’t know,” he said after a minute. “I’m not sure where I’ll be in a month.”
“Even if you’re still in treatment, couldn’t you take a night off to—”
“I don’t know,” Kevin said again, and Nick decided to let it drop. Maybe Kevin wasn’t ready to think about the future yet, even if it was only thirty days away.
He cast around for a new subject. Work? He opened his mouth to start talking about the campaign and instead heard himself say, “I met a woman.”
Kevin sat back in his chair and grinned. “Excellent. Give me all the details. I’m in the mood to live vicariously through my brother’s sexual conquests.”
Nick shook his head. “No conquest.”
“Any minute, though. Right?”
“Well…”
Kevin’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, now I’m intrigued. The fact that you mentioned this woman before the conquest stage makes me curious. Tell me all about her.”
Nick shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. Her name is Sara Minetti, she’s my neighbor, and she’s a ballet dancer. I saw her perform and she was amazing. She blew me away. And she’s a sweetheart, too. A genuinely nice person.”
“What does she look like?”
Nick glanced out the window, but he wasn’t thinking about the cityscape. “Beautiful. I catch myself staring at her all the time, like I’m in high school or something. She just…turns me on.” He shook his head. “That used to be just a phrase, you know? A thing to say. But it means something when I say it about her. It’s like she literally turns me on. Like she closes a circuit in my body and I freaking light up.”
“But no conquest?”
“No.”
“Damn. Have you at least kissed her?”
He closed his eyes, imagining Sara in his arms, his mouth covering hers. “No.”
“Dude. What’s the problem? She’s not married, is she?”
“No.”
“Well, then, what?”
That was the million dollar question.
“She just broke up with someone, for one thing.”
“Good. Then she’s single.”
“She’s rebounding.”
“Even better.”
“The most we could have is a fling. I’m going back to D.C. in the fall.”
“So what’s wrong with a fling? It sounds perfect. You said she’s on the rebound, right? And you’re leaving in a few months. So be her rebound guy.”
He was silent.
“Oh,” Kevin said after a moment. “You want to be more than her rebound guy.”
“Yeah. I do. And since I can’t, I’d rather not cross the line with her at all. I like her, and we’re neighbors. I’d rather be friends than start something we both know can’t go anywhere. Something that could turn messy, or hurt someone.”
“That’s surprisingly mature of you, Nick.”
“Thanks, man. I can always count on you for a good backhanded compliment. Now will you tell me why you’ve been so antsy all night? Are you doing okay?”
Kevin stopped tapping his fingers against his water glass and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just…”
“What?”
He grinned ruefully. “I want a drink. When it comes right down to it, that’s why I’m here, right? Because I really, really want a drink. But I thought I was getting better. I was starting to think I’d be able to check myself out soon. And then, today, I felt like I was right back where I started. The craving was so bad I knew if I was out there again, I’d head straight for a bar. So I thought, okay, no problem, I’ll just stay a while longer. But I can’t stay here forever. Eventually I’ll have to leave.”
“You’re afraid you’ll never be able to trust yourself.”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Look, Kevin. You know I’m no expert with the whole twelve step thing, but isn’t it about taking life one day at a time? One hour at a time, even?”
“Yeah.”
“Then look at what actually happened today. You wanted a drink. You could have checked yourself out, gone to a bar and gotten one. But you didn’t. You chose to stay here and finish what you started. That doesn’t mean you’re not getting better. It means you are getting better.”
Kevin was frowni
ng down at the table. After a minute he looked up again. “You think?”
“Yeah, I do. Today was just hard. Tomorrow will be easier.”
He’d said that with so much confidence, Nick thought as he walked the ten blocks home. He just wished he could make it be true. That he could do something meaningful to help his brother.
He paused outside the pub, but after a few seconds he kept going towards the apartment. In keeping with tonight’s theme of resisting temptation, he’d skip his nightly Scotch.
Thoughts of temptation inevitably led to thoughts of Sara. Her skin, her hair, her voice, her body.
Maybe he should spend less time with her. Resist the urge to knock on her door, to—
The voices were loud, and he heard them all the way down in the foyer. He thought they belonged to Sara and Harry, and by the time he got to the third landing he was sure of it.
He stopped at the bottom of the last staircase, out of sight of the pair arguing above.
“You only want me now because you can’t have me. You have to stop this, Harry. It’s insulting to both of us.”
“It’s not because I can’t have you. But, angel, a woman is like a motorcycle. She’s even sexier when she’s a little temperamental.”
Jesus. Did women really fall for crap like that?
“Wow. Just when I thought you couldn’t get more insulting.”
Not Sara, apparently.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
“Oh, please.”
“I don’t understand why you won’t give me another chance. I know you have some weird hang-ups about sex, but—”
“Weird hang-ups about sex? What weird hang-ups?”
“Come on, Sara. We went out for two months and never got past second base.”
“Second base? What are you, fourteen? And by the way, not sleeping with you wasn’t an indication of a weird sexual hang-up. I just wasn’t sure about us.”
“Sara, you don’t have to be shy with me. I know you’re insecure about sex. Maybe you’ve never had good sex before. Maybe you don’t think you’re very good at it, or that you couldn’t keep up with me, or something. But I can—”
“Stop. Talking.”
Harry actually shut up, which didn’t surprise Nick at all. If Sara had used that tone of voice on him, he would have shut up, too.
Into Your Arms (A Contemporary Romance Novel) Page 9