Coming Home

by Leslie Kelly

  “No,” she said, forcing the sultry images from her mind.

  “No, what?”

  They pulled up in front of the hospital. Nicole nearly sighed in relief that she’d soon be able to escape from the close confines of his truck. She remained silent for a moment, then said, “No, you don’t know a damn thing about me.”

  Not waiting for a response, she opened the door to step out into the thick Florida night. Heat assaulted her. It was nearly one a.m., but the air was still heavy and hot, with that not-totally-unpleasant smell found only in the south. A mixture of citrus, flowers, paper mills and suntan oil, her father had once said.

  As they walked across the parking lot, Nicole shrugged off her suit jacket and draped it over her arm. The green silk blouse she wore beneath was sleeveless. She knew she'd probably soon be chilly in the air conditioned building, but as they entered the lobby of the modern-looking hospital, she silently savored the cool relief.

  "Your father's in the cardiac intensive care unit," Wyatt said. "It's on the fourth floor."

  As they walked to the elevator, Wyatt tried not to look too closely at Nicole. He figured she must have been uncomfortable in that expensive, tailored jacket she wore. He wished she'd kept it on. It was bad enough that the skirt was too short and caught his eye again and again during the endless ride from the airport. Now, the sleeveless, silky blouse she wore outlined every curve of her body and was damned distracting. The last thing Wyatt Clayton wanted was to be distracted by Nicole Ross. How could he be distracted by the one woman who’d ever broken his heart?

  "You don't have to stay," she said in a tight voice as they boarded the elevator.

  "What would you suggest I do with your suitcase? Dump it in the parking lot?"

  She flushed lightly, obviously realizing how rude she'd sounded. "I'm sorry. I’m not thinking clearly right now," she admitted.

  He knew the apology was difficult for her.

  “Thank you for picking me up,” she added.

  "Forget it. I was the one who dragged your father out into my stables in the middle of a stifling hot day. I can help out.”

  She nodded. When they reached the fourth floor, she rushed out of the elevator before the door had fully opened. "My name is Nicole Ross, my father was brought in here today," Nicole said as she approached a woman standing at a nurse's station.

  "Yes, he is in unit eight. But, I'm sorry. Patients in the CICU are only allowed one visitor for ten minutes every hour. Someone just visited with him forty minutes ago. A Miss Sanchez? I believe she went down to the coffee shop," the woman replied with an impersonal smile.

  Nicole looked like she wanted to punch something. She began to protest when Wyatt took her by the arm and said, "Settle down, Nicole. They make these rules for the good of the patients, not the convenience of the family members."

  Nicole sighed, silently acknowledging he was right. "So how is my father?" she asked the nurse. "What is his condition?"

  "I'm sorry, ma'am," the woman said apologetically, "I can't give you much information. I'm sure the doctor will be up to speak with you shortly."

  Obviously frustrated and impatient, Nicole went to the ladies room, then returned to pace the corridor a few times. Leaning against a fake stone column near the elevator, Wyatt watched her, understanding the pain and stress she felt, but certainly not in any position to comfort her.

  "If you're so crazy about your father, why'd you refuse to ever come visit him?" Wyatt finally asked when she paused to take a drink from the water fountain.

  Nicole straightened immediately, wiping some cold water off her cheek with the back of her hand. She glared at him. "Aside from the fact that you of all people should know the answer to that question, it's really none of your business."

  He didn't reply, because she was right on the one hand—it was none of his business. But as for the other? Honestly, he had no idea. He couldn’t imagine that their teenage fling, which obviously hadn’t meant much to her, had been enough to keep her from visiting a much-loved parent. But what the hell did he know about kids and parents? He’d certainly never experienced much of anything like love from his own.

  Nicole knew she was stalking around the waiting room like a shark circling chum, which was pretty funny since Wyatt had been the great white who’d taken a huge bite out of her heart. Part of her wished he’d leave. Another part wanted someone else who cared about her father—as she knew Wyatt did—to be here with her.

  Finally, after what seemed like forever, the nurse told her she could go in. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she slowly made her way through the unit to her father's bed. Nicole bit her lip uncertainly. Machinery surrounded him, beeping and glowing, with numbers and lines that made her think of hospital shows on television. She felt sick thinking of what that line on the heart monitor meant, wondering how she'd handle it if the slow, weak little jerks on the screen suddenly went flat.

  "Dad?" she said quietly as she moved to his bedside.

  Her father's eyes were closed. His face looked thin and pale, much older than his fifty-nine years. Beneath the bed covers his strong body appeared smaller, but she told herself it was her imagination.

  Finally, he stirred. "Nicky, baby?"

  "Yes, Dad, it's me," she said, forcing a weak smile to her face as he opened his eyes and stared up at her.

  "Such a fuss," he whispered. "Didn't mean for you to be dragged down here."

  She shook her head, and bent to gently kiss his forehead. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be right now. And I’ll stay here just as long as it takes to make sure you are healthy and home where you belong."

  Even if staying here meant doing something she’d avoided for more many years: dealing with Wyatt Clayton.

  CHAPTER TWO

  While Nicole visited her father, Wyatt waited outside the CICU. The pretty nurse at the desk tried to engage him in conversation a few times. He barely responded, busy wondering how Nicole was holding up next to her father's sickbed.

  "Are you a family member?" the nurse asked with a smile.

  "No. Just a friend of the Ross's. From way back."

  Way, way back.

  As far back as he could remember Wyatt had known Doc Ross. It seemed the man had been at the Clayton ranch for every major event the family had ever experienced, from the birth of Charlemaine, who had gone on to win the Derby, to the death of Prince Pride, who could have one day been a champion.

  And so many times Nicole had been right there with him.

  He hadn't noticed her much until that summer...that last summer when she'd been seventeen, newly graduated from high school and an utter beauty. Beautiful enough to capture his cousin Brady's eye.

  Wyatt had been jealous, at first, until he recognized the looks Nicole Ross was giving him when she thought no one noticed. Though she went out with his golden-haired, perfect, legitimate cousin Brady, she wanted to be with Wyatt. He knew it. She knew he knew it. And when Brady dumped her, claiming she was a little too juvenile for his tastes, meaning, Wyatt knew, that she wouldn't put out, Wyatt made his move.

  He still remembered the look on her face when he'd found her sitting on the pasture fence near her father's small farm, crying over Brady.

  "Don't tell me that idiot's gone and broken your heart, Brown Eyes, because I won't believe it for a minute.”

  She was embarrassed to be caught crying, angrily dashing away her tears as she jumped off the fence and tried to get away from him. "Go away. Just leave me alone."

  "I’m sorry, Nick,” he told her. “But you gotta know he's not worth one single tear."

  He touched her, then. He held out a hand and laid it on her shoulder, and she stopped as if iron bars had captured her. When Wyatt moved closer and placed his other hand on her other shoulder he could have sworn he heard her sigh.

  "I'm not crying over Brady," she admitted quietly, so quietly he nearly didn't hear her.

  "Then what?"

  He wondered for a moment if she would answer him. Th
en, she turned her face and looked at him over her shoulder.

  "You," she admitted.

  He couldn't believe she had the nerve to say it. A grin spread across his lips, his masculine pride swelling with the knowledge that she cared enough to cry over him.

  "Don't you laugh at me, you...you bastard!"

  Wyatt laughed out loud at that. Did she think she was insulting him by calling him what he was? Hell, his grandfather never tired of reminding him of that.

  His laughter seemed to infuriate her even more because she turned around, curled up a fist and socked him one, right in the middle. He doubled over, the air knocked out of him, still laughing, coughing, trying to catch his breath. "Oh, Nick, you crazy kid!"

  "Don't call me that, I'm not a kid," she snapped, fisting her hands on her hips.

  "No, you are not," he admitted as he moved close to her again. She didn't pull away, staring at him with suspicion as he slid his hands into the space between her arms and her waist, pulling her against him.

  Kissing Nicole was the first glimpse Wyatt ever had of what a real romantic relationship could be like. He was tentative at first, knowing she was relatively inexperienced. But she thrust her fingers into his hair and pulled him so hard against her mouth that his teeth banged into his lips with a painful crunch. He started laughing again, and she laughed, too, even as she opened her mouth to him and teased his tongue with her own. Then he was dead serious, taking what she so innocently offered, kissing her like tomorrow was the end of the world and they were the last couple alive.

  "Why did you cry over me?" he asked after they pulled their mouths apart and gasped for air.

  "Because I thought you never noticed me. At first I was flattered that Brady asked me out, then I realized that I kept dating him, even though I really stopped liking him, because it gave me an excuse to come out to the ranch and be near you.”

  "Nick, I've noticed you every minute of every day I've seen you. God, it killed me to see you walk around in those tight pink shorts of yours, with that teeny top you wear with them, knowing you were there as Brady's date. Knowing he was the one touching you."

  She held up a hand against his mouth and shook her head intently. “Brady never touched me, not in any way he wanted to. You're the only one I want to touch me."

  Then he kissed her again and was utterly lost to the unique sensation of drowning in physical pleasure. And where before he'd been filled with teenage attraction to pretty little Nicole Ross, suddenly he found himself falling crazy in love with her.

  Someone walked by him in the hospital corridor, making Wyatt remember where he was.

  "Damn," he muttered, unable to believe he'd allowed himself to mentally revisit those euphoric times before Nicole's betrayal. He'd struggled long and hard to keep those memories in the deepest quagmires of his brain. He'd thought he was completely over it...over her. But after just an hour or two in her company, he conceded that strong emotions still churned inside him toward Nicole Ross. He just didn't know what on earth he was going to do about them.

  Nicole slipped quietly out of the CICU to find Wyatt in the hall waiting for her. A frown tugged at his handsome face; he looked weary and angry. Still, he asked, "How is he?"

  "Sick, tired," she whispered as Wyatt moved even closer. "And as thoughtful and sweet as he's ever been. So worried about everyone else but himself."

  Her words ended on a sob. Nicole tried frantically to stay strong, to avoid showing any sign of weakness to this man, but the tears came anyway. The pain she'd felt in the pit of her stomach all day overwhelmed her. Her body shook. She stood, helpless, her nose dripping and tears tracking down her cheeks.

  Before she realized his intention, Wyatt was sliding his arms around her and pulling her face against his chest. Instinct and self-preservation screamed at her to step back.

  Burrowing closer, she took the comfort he offered. She tried not to think about who held her, but each time she drew a breath her senses were bombarded with him.

  "He'll be all right, Nick. He's a strong guy," Wyatt murmured as he gently stroked her back.

  Nicole nodded and took a few deep breaths, forcing her heart to stop racing. Gradually, her tears stopped, but her pulse remained quick and choppy as her fear transitioned to something else...something she couldn't quite name.

  The strength of his arms around her was too pleasing. The smell of his skin, so close to her lips, too familiar. His cotton shirt rubbed her cheek, and his soft breaths fell on her hair. Nicole thought she hadn't felt anything more pleasurable in years. She was on dangerous ground. Very dangerous. She'd been back in Florida for just a few hours and found herself in the one place in the world she'd never believed possible—right back in Wyatt Clayton's arms.

  "Thank you," she said softly as she managed to pull herself away from him. Trying to smile, she wiped a few remaining tears away with her hand and nodded toward black streaks of mascara on his white shirt. "I'm sorry, I've smeared makeup on you."

  "That's nothing compared to your face," he said with a gentle smile. Wyatt raised his hands and rubbed at the flesh under her eyes with the rough pads of his thumbs.

  "Thanks for not licking your fingers first like my nanny used to," Nicole said with a slight laugh.

  "Your nanny. Yeah, I forgot, poor little rich girl."

  Nicole watched as the frown settled once more on Wyatt's face. His kindness of the moments before was forgotten as he again retreated behind a cold mask. She told herself she didn't care.

  What a lie.

  Not wanting to risk another bitter exchange with him, Nicole excused herself and went to the ladies room to fix her makeup. When she returned, an older, dark-haired woman was talking quietly with Wyatt in the hallway.

  As Nicole approached, the other woman looked up and her warm face softened in a sweet smile. "You must be Nicole."

  Finding herself wrapped in a welcoming hug, Nicole ignored the fact that she had no idea who on earth this woman was. She gave herself over to the kindness she'd glimpsed in the other woman's eyes, and hugged her back tightly.

  "There, there, your papa's so happy to see you. I know it."

  Nicole said, "You're Maria?"

  The woman pulled away, embarrassed. “I'm sorry. I just feel I know you already. I completely forgot we've never met in person."

  "It's all right. From the way my father talks about you, I feel I know you, too."

  "He is better now that you're here, yes?"

  "I like to think so," Nicole replied. "By the time I was ready to leave he whispered that he wanted me to sneak him some mint chocolate chip ice cream the next time I come."

  Maria laughed out loud, and Nicole saw that even Wyatt smiled slightly. "You are even prettier than I imagined," Maria said. "Your pictures don't do you justice."

  Nicole looked closely at Maria. The older woman was attractive, kind-looking, with thick brown hair and gentle eyes. Her face was tear-stained. "Thank you so much for all you've done for him," Nicole said.

  "Oh, he is like my own family," Maria insisted. "And I feel I know you already. He talks constantly of you and your Justin."

  Wyatt had been listening quietly until he heard Maria mention Justin.

  Who the hell is Justin?

  As Maria and Nicole talked, Wyatt realized just how much he didn't know about the Ross family. Years ago, when everything had fallen apart, Wyatt had stayed away from Doc Ross, still too raw and angry about what had happened with Nicole to want to see any member of her family. He’d gone out of state to school and their paths hadn’t crossed again until Wyatt had returned home to Florida, after getting his Bachelor’s Degree. Josh and Wyatt’s grandfather had never patched up their friendship after their falling-out; caused, Wyatt knew, by his grandpa’s mistaken assumptions about Nicole and the pregnancy.

  It hadn’t been until after his grandfather died and Wyatt took over the Four C that he’d sought Josh out, wanting the best vet in the area. Though tense at first, they’d gradually formed a friendshi
p…a close one. But they’d never broken an unspoken rule—they didn’t talk about Nicole, or the past. Wyatt didn’t ask for information, and Josh didn’t offer it, as if the two of them knew their friendship, and strong working relationship, would be threatened by such a conversation.

  So, hell, he didn’t even know if Nicole was single or not. He had glanced at her ring finger for some stupid reason during the ride from the airport, and had seen no wedding band. But Justin could be her lover. If so, he must have been around a long time for her father to have such fond feelings for him.

  Wyatt suddenly wanted to break something. Shocked and angry that she still had the power to affect him like this, he forced the emotion away. Had he ever really gotten her out of his head, out of his heart? Tonight, he was beginning to wonder.

  "Now, you are coming back to the house with me, aren't you? You can't do your father any good tonight, and I promise I'll bring you back here first thing in the morning. Hopefully he'll sleep until then, anyway," Maria insisted.

  Wyatt thought for a moment Nicole would argue, but she didn't. She nodded wearily, glancing over her shoulder toward the entrance to the CICU. "That would be best. Dad looked so tired, I don't want him to try to stay awake just to visit with me every hour. I would like to speak with the doctor, though."

  "Tomorrow, Nicole. That will be soon enough."

  Wyatt heard the calm assurance in Maria's voice, and saw that Nicole was comforted by it, too. He had to wonder what she would think when she realized just how much Maria meant to Doc Ross. The old Nicole probably would have been pleased her father had found some happiness. But she’d been living for years among her mother’s rich, snobby, arrogant friends, who would look down their nose on someone who took up with his Hispanic housekeeper.