Home to Eden

by Dallas Schulze

  "You certainly know a lot about strategy," Nick said.

  "Damn right I do." Harry lifted his beer but lowered the bottle without taking a drink. He fixed Nick with a fierce blue gaze. "I'd be good at golf."

  "I'm sure you would be," Nick said, sounding mildly surprised that Harry should think it necessary to say as much.

  "I'm a lawyer. Lawyers all play golf."

  "Seems like it," Nick agreed cheerfully.

  "It's practically a part of the bar exam."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Besides, it's ridiculous for a single man to be living in a house this size," Harry continued, as if Nick had argued with him. "I rattle around here like a pea in a rain barrel."

  "It's a big house."

  "A condo would be more practical."

  "Sure would."

  There was a short silence. Nick waited, his mouth curved in a half smile, his eyes still on the bottle between his fingers.

  "No." Harry snarled the single word as if it had been dragged from him. "No, I didn't ever intend to sell the damned place."

  "Saving my soul, Harry?" Nick asked, as he had once before. He set the bottle down and looked at the old man, his expression amused and a little exasperated.

  ''Not your soul. That was never in any danger. But you can't grieve forever, Nick."

  ''So I've been told." He shook his head. "I'm not sure what it is about me that inspires people to tell me that. I didn't throw myself into the grave with Kyle and Lisa, did I?"

  "Not physically, maybe, but you just... stopped living, somehow."

  Nick pushed his hands into his pockets and turned to stare out the window at the darkness. When he spoke, his voice was hard with suppressed emotion. "I buried my wife and son, Harry. That's inclined to leave a few scars."

  "I know." Harry shook his head. "I worry about you. I don't want to see you end up like me—old and alone. And if you look sympathetic, I'm going to break this bottle over your head," he snapped irritably. "I'm not looking for sympathy, just laying out the facts. You're young enough to think you'll never get old, but trust me, it happens to all of us."

  He sounded vaguely indignant, as if he still couldn't believe it had actually happened to him. Nick caught back a smile.

  "I appreciate your concern, Harry, but I haven't sworn off relationships."

  ''Maybe not, but you certainly haven't gone out of your way to get involved with anyone, have you?" He caught the irritation that flashed across Nick's face and held up one hand. "I know, I should mind my own business."

  "I couldn't have put it better myself," Nick said, less sharply than he might have. "I'm a little past the age where I expect my elders to take an interest in my love life."

  "You're right." Harry shook his head. "It's none of my business except I... Well, I always felt as if I was responsible for what happened."

  Nick felt his stomach knot as memory washed over him. Blindly, he went to the refrigerator and pulled open the door, ignoring the protesting clank of bottles rattling against each other. He reached in and took out a beer he didn't want. "No one was responsible for what happened, not even Lisa."

  "But I'm responsible for introducing the two of you," Harry said. "I always knew Lisa was...fragile, that she'd need someone to take care of her. I pushed her toward you." There was an air of confession about his statement, as if he was unburdening himself of a guilty secret.

  "I knew that," Nick said calmly.

  "You did?" Harry stared at him in surprise. "How did you know?"

  "As a matchmaker, you're about as subtle as an elephant at a tea party, Harry." His smile was genuine. "You all but offered her on a platter."

  "I did no such thing!"

  "You stopped just short of it. I knew all along what you were up to."

  "Then why did you..." Harry's voice trailed off uncertainly.

  But Nick answered the unasked question. "Why did I marry her?" He shrugged. "She needed me and I guess I needed to be needed."

  Silence followed his words. Harry looked at the beer he'd barely sipped. Nick stared at the clock on the wall above the door, watching the second hand tick off each second with a briskly self-important air. He'd never articulated the reasons for his marriage, never put it quite so plainly, even in his own thoughts. He was uncomfortable with having done so now. The chime of the doorbell provided a welcome interruption.

  "I'll get it," Nick said. He set down his unopened beer and left the kitchen without waiting for a response.

  Harry looked after him, his expression worried. Whatever Nick said, he knew he was at least partially to blame for what had happened five years ago. He'd manipulated Nick's life, and Lisa's, too, and the results had been tragic. Now, he'd manipulated Nick's life again, bringing him here in the hope that, if he dealt with the past, he'd be able to move on and build a future. His intentions had been the best, but everyone knew where good intentions all too often led.

  The scene he'd witnessed this afternoon made him wonder if he hadn't made a huge mistake. If Nick was in love with his brother's fiancee... Harry shuddered. It didn't bear thinking of.

  Chapter 8

  "I think getting away for a couple of days is going to be good for both of us," Gareth said, glancing away from the road long enough to smile at Kate.

  "It was nice of the Sinclairs to include me in their invitation."

  "We're a package deal, remember?"

  "How could I forget?" She turned her head to look out the passenger window, pretending to be absorbed in the passing scenery. It was certainly worth seeing. The view ranged from pretty to spectacular, depending on whether the road was clinging to the edge of a cliff or winding upward through the mountains.

  Jack and Susan Sinclair had invited the two of them to spend a three-day weekend at their cabin in the mountains. Though she'd never met the other couple, Gareth had been enthused, and it had seemed like a nice idea—a chance to get away from Eden and all the problems there. Unfortunately, she'd accepted the invitation before she found out that the problems were joining them at the cabin—or at least her particular problem was joining them. Nick Blackthorne, the one person on earth with whom she least wanted to be trapped in a mountain cabin.

  She'd thought about backing out of the invitation but hadn't been able to come up with an excuse that wouldn't raise questions, which was the last thing she wanted. Besides, though Gareth hadn't said as much, she had the feeling that he welcomed a chance to spend time with Nick. Maybe even, God forbid, a chance for his fiancee to get to know his brother. The thought didn't do anything to ease the cold, hard knot of guilt that had taken up permanent residence in her stomach for the past week.

  "We don't seem to have had much time together lately," Gareth said, drawing her attention to the present. "I know I've been pretty absorbed in this project—''

  "And I've been busy at work," Kate interrupted. She shifted in her seat so she could smile at him. "It hasn't been anybody's fault."

  "I guess not, but that doesn't mean I haven't missed you."

  ''Me, too, you," she said, the words sticking in her throat a little as it suddenly struck her how untrue they were. She hadn't missed him, really—not the way she should have. In fact, it was a bit scary to realize how little she'd thought of him. Except, lately, to feel guilty about betraying him.

  ''I've missed getting a chance to talk to you," she added, determined to believe that it was the truth.

  "Talking isn't all I've missed." The leer he gave her was exaggerated for comical effect but the look in his eyes said that he wasn't entirely joking. Kate felt herself blushing like a schoolgirl.

  They'd been lovers since the night he asked her to marry him. Though she certainly hadn't been holding out for a ring, as the old saying went, she had never been inclined to share her bed—and her body—easily. Almost never, she corrected herself, painfully aware of the one time she'd thrown morals and common sense to the winds.

  With Gareth, the transition from dating to sleeping together had been as comfort
able as everything else about their relationship. He was a gentle, undemanding lover, and she enjoyed the sexual side of their relationship. But she'd barely registered how long it had been since they'd slept together. She plucked nervously at the fabric of her soft floral cotton skirt as she tried not to think about how little it had apparently mattered to her.

  Her throat closed against telling him another lie, so she settled for a mysterious smile. It was obviously enough to satisfy Gareth, because he reached out to catch her hand in his. Keeping his eyes on the road, he brought her fingers to his mouth and softly kissed her knuckles. Kate held her breath and waited, hoping desperately to feel the kind of wild arousal she'd felt last week when Nick touched her. This was Gareth. This was the man she was going to marry, the man she loved. Why didn't she feel something more when he touched her? Why didn't her heart pound and her bones melt?

  "On second thoughts, maybe this weekend at Jack and Susan's isn't such a hot idea," Gareth said, his voice huskier than usual. "With them and their two kids and Nick all there, we're not going to have any time alone together."

  "Oh, look, is that a deer?" Kate pulled her hand away to point to the side of the road.

  Gareth followed her gesture, and his hungry look vanished. "That's a cow. You've obviously been spending way too much time in town."

  "I guess so." She linked her hands together in her lap. "Tell me about these friends of yours."

  "You'll like Jack and Susan," Gareth said, accepting her change of subject without question. "They're good people. And their kids are terrific. Jack spent so much time at the house when we were kids that he was practically a member of the family. He and Nick had a business together for a few years, until Nick moved East. I have a feeling he's hoping

  to talk Nick into starting up the partnership again. I hope he can. I think it would be good for Nick."

  "Hmm." Kate made a vague noise of agreement. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss Nick with Gareth.

  Just the mention of his name was enough to bring back every detail of those moments in the gazebo. Every time she thought of that kiss, she was consumed with guilt. She still couldn't understand what had happened, how she'd so completely lost control of herself. She was engaged to be married, for God's sake. Happily engaged.

  As if that wasn't enough, she had reason to know that Nick Blackthorne was trouble. Five years ago, when she'd slept with him, she'd thought it was pure magic that had led them together, fate taking a positive interest in her life. But when she woke to find him gone, the magic had proven to be as ephemeral as a soap bubble—pretty while it lasted but hardly to be depended on in the long run.

  Not like Gareth. She could depend on him. She could trust him. Kate twisted her engagement ring back and forth, her jaw tightening with determination. No matter how much she wished otherwise, she couldn't change the fact that, when she married Gareth, Nick was going to become a part of her family. Since there was no changing that, they were just going to have to learn to deal with each other. Maybe this weekend was as good a time as any to start. She needed to prove to herself that those moments in the gazebo had been a bizarre aberration—a product of the storm, like thunder or lightning. With even more potential for destruction, she thought uneasily.

  Kate might have found it reassuring to know that Nick's thoughts were running along the same lines.

  It bothered him that he'd so nearly betrayed his own brother. He couldn't even console himself with the thought that he'd come to his senses, because he hadn't. Kate had been the one to end the embrace. If she hadn't... But he didn't let his thoughts follow that train of thought, especially since it brought equal amounts of relief and regret.

  She'd avoided him since then, of course. At least, he assumed she had. It was hard to tell since he'd been careful to keep his distance, too. No matter how much he wanted her—and his gut ached with the wanting—from now on, she was strictly off-limits. If she hadn't been engaged to Gareth, maybe... But she was, and that's all there was to it.

  He'd accepted Jack's invitation before he knew that Kate and Gareth were also coming. When he found out, he'd considered backing out, but then had decided not to. He and Kate had to face each other sometime. Maybe it would do him some good to see her with Gareth, to see them as a couple. If the two of them were going to be related by marriage, they had to find a way to deal with each other.

  Like Harry, he considered the possibility that the road to hell really was paved with good intentions. He just hoped he wasn't about to add another brick to that particular road.

  Why couldn't life be simple? Kate wondered with a touch of despair. In a more just world, when a woman wanted to dislike a man, he'd have the courtesy to be, well, dislikable. But how could you dislike a man who showed endless patience with children? she asked herself as she watched Nick roughhousing with Matthew and Rose Sinclair.

  The children had attached themselves to him as soon as he arrived two days ago and had spent nearly every waking moment with him since. When their father had suggested that they were probably driving their uncle Nick crazy, Nick had laughed and said he was enjoying them. He was kind to children, and he even took in stray dogs, she thought, remembering Leroy. She sighed. It just wasn't fair.

  "He's good with children," Susan commented, joining Kate on the raised deck and following the direction of her gaze.

  "They certainly like him. Thanks." Kate accepted the glass of iced tea the other woman handed her and looked determinedly away from the tall, dark-haired man playing so comfortably with the two kids.

  "They adore him," Susan corrected. She settled into a deck chair next to Kate. The two women were more or less alone, Jack and Gareth having taken a boat out onto the lake to try to catch some fish for dinner. "He's always been good with kids, even when he was little more than a kid himself."

  "Have you known the Blackthornes long?" Kate asked, carefully including the rest of the family in the question. She sipped her iced tea and kept her eyes on her hostess, determinedly ignoring the childish shouts of laughter.

  "Most of my life," Susan said, smiling. "I was a couple of years behind Nick and Jack in school. And Brian, of course."

  "It seems like everyone in Eden grew up with everyone else," Kate said, openly envious. "You've all known each other forever. I don't even know anyone from my high school graduating class, let alone someone I went to grade school with. It must be nice to have so many ties."

  "It has its downside. Everyone tends to think they have a natural right to stick their nose into your business," Susan said with a smile. "But I like it—we both do. That's why we've stayed in Eden, so the children can have that kind of stability."

  "It sounds wonderful." Kate rubbed her engagement ring like a talisman. A shriek of laughter from little Rose drew her attention and she couldn't help but smile when she saw Nick holding the four-year-old over his head, dipping her in a mock threat to drop her. He grinned at her, all the shadows gone from his face. He looked younger and happier than Kate had ever seen him.

  "He should have a houseful of kids by now," Susan said sadly. "He has so much to give to a family. He's had so much loss in his life."

  "Were he and his twin a great deal alike?" Kate heard herself ask and then immediately wished the words unsaid. She didn't want to talk about Nick. She didn't want to think about him.

  "In some ways." Susan frowned, her round face thoughtful. "They were identical, but you could usually tell them apart. Nick always had a kind of sparkle in his eyes, like he was about to do something wonderfully wicked. Brian was quieter. More cerebral, I guess. He was going to go into the ministry, you know, like his father."

  "I didn't know that." Kate tried to picture Nick standing at a pulpit, preaching on a Sunday morning, but the picture wouldn't come clear. There was something too restless about him, too questioning. He lacked the calm sense of purpose she saw in his father.

  "I'm sure Brian would have made a good minister," Susan said, "but, in a funny way, I always thought he was
too perfect for it. I mean, how can you preach against temptation if you don't really know what temptation is?"

  "Brian was never tempted?" Kate asked, finding it even harder to connect the image to Nick. She knew, from personal experience, that Nick understood temptation.

  "Oh, I wouldn't say never. Just not very often and not very seriously. He was genuinely nice but he was so...so good that it could be a little unnerving at times. He just never seemed to be quite of this world. And it was always Nick who brought home stray animals and spent weeks finding homes for them. When I was about ten, he conned my parents into letting me have the most hideously ugly cat you've ever seen in your life. He turned out to be a wonderful pet and I wept buckets when Blackie eventually died of advanced old age, but honestly, you wouldn't have believed how ugly he was."

  "I think I have some idea," Kate murmured, thinking of the Shetland pony size mutt Nick had rescued and adopted.

  "At one time or another, I think half the town ended up with one of Nick's charity cases. He— Blast that phone," Susan muttered as a shrill jangle drifted from the house, interrupting her. "I told Jack it was a mistake to have one put in here."

  Kate smiled in sympathy as her hostess got up and hurried in the direction of the demanding ring. On the grassy slope below the deck, Nick and Matthew had their heads together over an interesting piece of bark. Though he seemed to be concentrating completely on whatever the boy was saying, at the same time. Rose had hold of one of his hands and was leaning on her heels and swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

  It wasn't necessary to actually dislike him, Kate told herself. In fact, it probably wasn't even possible, she admitted with a sigh. What was important was to bury this completely inappropriate attraction—bury it so deep that it would never see the light of day again.

  She was fairly sure that Nick agreed with her. In the two days they'd been here, he hadn't given any sign that he even remembered those moments in the gazebo when he'd held her so close it seemed as if he was trying to absorb her into himself. He'd greeted her with exactly the right note of casual friendliness, as if their only connection was her engagement to his brother, and Kate had had to squash a momentary feeling of pique that he'd apparently succeeded in doing what she wanted him to—forget what had happened between them.