by Robin Wells
And, no doubt, the same ability to break her heart all over again.
She drew a deep breath and pushed the memories aside. “The baby’s getting restless. Why don’t you bring her luggage in the house while I find the nursery and change her?”
Half an hour later, Nick stood in the hallway, watching Rachel bathe the squirming baby in the bathroom.
“Wring most of the water out of the washcloth before you wash her face,” Rachel directed. “Babies hate getting water in their eyes.”
Nick nodded. He knew he should be paying closer attention to her play-by-play instructions so he could bathe Jenny tomorrow, but he was too absorbed in watching Rachel’s graceful form stretch across the tub. She’d taken off her jacket, and as she leaned forward, he could make out the outline of a lacy bra under her tan blouse. Her pert bottom tilted up at an enticing angle, and her navy skirt was hitched up enough to reveal a lovely length of slender thigh.
Good Lord, but she was lovely. He’d forgotten exactly how lovely. Her hair was tumbling forward, exposing the back of her neck—a sight he found distinctly provocative. He remembered kissing her there, remembered how the scent of her perfume and shampoo had mingled in a heady, erotic blend.
He moved closer and leaned toward her, hoping to catch a whiff of the delicious scent now, but the baby glared up at him, wrinkled her face into an old man’s frown and let out a howl of protest.
Nick rapidly backed away. “Sorry, Jenny. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Rachel smiled at him over her shoulder. “A good night’s rest should change her attitude.”
Nicked stopped by the door. “I hope something changes it. Otherwise, the next eighteen years are going to be pretty rough.”
Rachel laughed, then turned all of her attention to the baby, talking softly to the child as she finished bathing her. Nick watched Rachel lift the child out of the shallow water and wrap her in a fluffy white towel, then he followed at a distance as she carried Jenny across the hall to the white-and-ivory nursery. He stopped at the doorway, not wanting to provoke Jenny again.
Rachel really had a way with kids, he reflected, watching the way the baby smiled and laughed as Rachel powdered and diapered her. The child had devoured the dinner Rachel had spoon-fed her earlier, played happily throughout her bath and was now merrily cooperating as Rachel snapped her into a pair of Winnie-the-Pooh jammies.
“There we go,” Rachel murmured. “All ready for bed.”
No kidding. He’d love nothing more than to sweep Rachel off her feet and carry her off to the master bedroom.
Stop it, Delaney, he silently ordered himself. Shifting his stance, he tried to shift his thoughts, as well. “So what happens now?”
Rachel picked the baby up in her arms. “Story time. Does Jenny have any books?”
Nick nodded. “Mrs. Olsen put some in the bag with her toys. But isn’t Jenny a little young for reading?”
“Babies love it. It’s really good for them, too. In fact, babies that are read to from an early age are more likely to love reading when they’re older.”
Nick cautiously entered the room, circling around Jenny as carefully as a matador around a bull. He reached for the large suitcase that held her toys, unzipped it and pulled out a handful of colorful books. “Here you go,” he said, passing them to Rachel.
“Thanks.” Selecting Goldilocks and the Three Bears, she carried Jenny to the large white rocking chair in the corner and settled the child on her lap. Nick watched from the doorway as she softly read the story, enjoying the soothing rhythm of Rachel’s voice as much as the baby.
By the end of the story, the baby’s eyes had fluttered closed. Rachel gently carried the child to the crib, lowered her over the railing and tucked a small quilt around her. “Good night, sweetheart.” She leaned down and kissed the baby’s cheek, then raised the safety rail. “Sweet dreams.”
Nick stepped aside as Rachel tiptoed through the doorway and closed the nursery door behind her. He followed her down the hall into the sitting room, shaking his head in amazement
“That was incredible. Left to my own devices, she’d probably have kept crying until her voice gave out.” He gazed at her gratefully. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Rachel gave a modest shrug. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Well, the least I can do is offer you dinner. I’d planned to order in a pizza.”
Rachel averted her gaze. “I—I really should be going.”
Nick hated the thought of her leaving. “I ruined your plans for the evening. I’d feel a lot better about taking advantage of your generosity if you’d at least share a pizza with me.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He took a step toward her. “Look, Rachel. Since we’re going to be working together, we need to get used to being around each other. It might help if we talked and cleared the air.”
She drew a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. “Okay. I suppose you’re right.”
Relief filled his chest “Good. Do you still like your pizza with green pepper, mushrooms, black olives and pepperoni?”
Rachel’s lips parted in surprise. “I can’t believe you remembered all that.”
There was very little about Rachel that he’d forgotten, although heaven knew he’d tried. Any detail he’d managed to suppress had come rushing back in vivid detail over the last few hours—especially the full, plump curve of her bottom lip, the perfect little vee of her top lip, the way her mouth used to part when he kissed her.
He was staring again. Abruptly pulling his gaze away, he looked around for a phone. He spotted one on a table by the sofa. “Does Mario’s still have the best pizza in town?”
Rachel nodded. Nick picked up the phone, silently warning himself to back off. Of all the things Rachel was making him remember, the one thing he needed to remember the most was that she was off-limits.
Rachel found herself seated beside him in the elegant sand-colored dining room an hour and a half later, a nearly empty pizza box lying on the long, gleaming table before her, enjoying herself far more than she would have thought possible. She didn’t know if the wine Nick had found in the cupboard or the neutral conversation was responsible, but dinner had been far easier than she would have imagined. They’d talked about everything from work to politics to books and music.
“Have you done any traveling lately?” Nick asked, pouring the last of the wine in her glass.
“Just to Minnesota at Christmas to see my folks.”
“How are they?”
“Fine. Still a pair of overprotective worrywarts, but fine.”
Nick grinned companionably. “That’s what you get for being an only child.”
“An only child, with asthma,” she reminded him. “They never quite believed I really outgrew it. One of the reasons I moved to Phoenix was because it was far enough away that my mother couldn’t drive to my apartment each morning to see if I was dressed warmly enough.”
Nick laughed. “You’re kidding.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wish I were.”
Nick shook his head in amusement. “They really must have hated to see you move so far away.”
Rachel nodded. “The only reason they didn’t lie down in front of my moving van was because Phoenix has such a good climate. Mom thought it would be good for my health. And Dad thought it was a good career move.”
Nick took a sip of wine. “You’re lucky to have parents who loved you enough to let you go.”
It was an odd remark. She knew Nick’s mother had died while he was in college and that his father had passed away five years ago, but that was all he’d ever told her. She leaned forward, her forearms on the table. “You know, in all the time we dated, you never told me much about your parents.”
A shuttered look crossed his face. “There’s not much to tell,” he said evasively.
He was still reluctant to talk about them. She tried another tack.
“What was it like, growing up on
a farm?”
“Hard.” Nick reached for his glass of wine and drained it. “A lot of hard work, a lot of hard luck. The luck factor was the thing I hated the most about it. Too many things were out of our control—rain, drought, hailstorms, insects. There were a lot of things that could go wrong, and something usually did.” His glass clinked softly as he set it back on the table. “I think that’s why I love dealing with numbers. They’re reliable. No matter what the weather is doing, one and one is always two.”
It had always struck Rachel as odd that someone as adventurous as Nick had chosen a career as staid as accounting, but now she understood it. Nick needed to be in control. Come to think of it, even his most daring adventures were situations where he remained in control.
“There must have been something you liked about growing up on a farm,” Rachel prodded.
Nick shook his head grimly. “Nothing that I can think of. That place sucked the life out of my parents. It damn near sucked the life out of me, too, but I managed to escape. My brother wasn’t so lucky.”
“What do you mean?”
“The farm had been in my family since the Oklahoma Land Run, passed down to each eldest son, and Dad was determined to keep it that way. He wanted me to take it over. He said it was a family responsibility.” A nerve ticked in Nick’s jaw. His eyes were flat and hard. “I didn’t want to be a farmer, didn’t want to spend my life like that. We had an argument, and I left. Unfortunately, that left my brother saddled with the whole thing.”
“He could have left, too,” Rachel said softly.
Nick shook his head. “Ben never could stand up to Dad.” He shifted on his seat, then waved a hand toward the pizza in an obvious ploy to change the topic. “Say, this is really good. Would you like another slice?”
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t think I have room for another bite. I’m stuffed.”
Nick’s mouth curved in a taunting smile. “That’s too bad, because I noticed that there’s some chocolate ice cream in the freezer.”
“Chocolate?” Rachel straightened and smiled. “Well, maybe I could make just a little room for that.”
Nick laughed. “You haven’t changed at all.” He leaned forward. “Remember when we ordered that huge dessert at that southside steakhouse?”
Rachel placed a hand on her stomach and moaned. “It was enormous. Enough for five or six people. What was it called?”
“Chocolate Decadence.”
Rachel nodded. “It was appropriately named.”
“I remember how much you loved it.” His smile grew warm.
“I remember how you spooned it into my mouth and got it all over my chin.”
The heat in his eyes grew hotter. “I remember kissing a tiny smudge of chocolate off your mouth. It was right—” he reached out his hand and touched the corner of her mouth “—there.”
His thumb slid across her bottom lip. His eyes held a dark, familiar light, a light that held her still and captive, a light his eyes used to get just before he kissed her.
His face was close, his voice a low, seductive rumble. “I remember that your lips were sweeter than the chocolate.”
Pull back. Make yourself pull back, her mind argued with her body. With an effort, she scooted her chair slightly away from the table. “You’ve got a good memory.” Instead of the light tone she’d intended, the words came out low and a little breathless.
“Where you’re concerned, I do.”
“So why did you leave?” The question that had haunted her for two years was out of her mouth before she could stop to consider the wisdom of asking it.
The question broke the seductive spell like a bucket of cold water. Nick sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’d been offered a big advancement in my career.”
“I heard you requested it.”
“I did.”
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
“Probably for the same reason that when it was offered, I almost didn’t take it.”
Not take a promotion he’d requested? Nick had always been achievement-oriented He might take a lot of risks in his personal life, but he’d always been conservative when it came to his career. Rachel furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t want to leave you.”
Rachel’s heart seemed to stop in her chest. She stared at him, afraid to ask, but needing to know. Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “So why did you?”
“Same reason.”
Time seemed suspended. The quiet was so complete, Rachel could hear the kitchen clock tick in the next room. “I—I don’t understand.”
Nick placed his hands on the table and sighed. “Look, Rachel—we were getting too involved. I told you at the outset that I had no intention of ever getting married, and you’re not the kind of woman who would be happy with anything less. It wasn’t fair to let things go any further. I hated to leave you, but I thought it was best to move on before anyone got hurt.”
Then you should have moved on sooner. The thought echoed so clearly through her mind that for a moment, she thought she’d said it out loud.
She fought to keep her emotions under control, to keep the tears welling up behind her eyes from spilling out as the memory of their last day together filled her mind.
They’d spent the day hiking in Echo Canyon. The early-June weather had been perfect—warm, but not too hot, with a few high, wispy clouds in a sapphire sky. The sun had glinted off the red cliffs, making them glow like glazed terra-cotta.
A feeling of anticipation hovered in the air. All day long, Rachel had the feeling that Nick was about to say something, and with a giddy sense of anticipation, she thought she knew what it was.
He was going to propose. She’d known for weeks that she was in love with him, and she was fairly sure he felt the same way about her. Neither of them had voiced their feelings, but she was certain that was about to change. She was certain he’d already changed. He hadn’t mentioned his aversion to matrimony in nearly two months.
Nick seemed to be biding his time that afternoon, waiting for the right moment. When he’d brought her back to her apartment, he’d leaned against the door frame and looked at her, his gaze pensive and tender, almost wistful. “It was a great day. I wish it never had to end.”
“It doesn’t have to,” she’d whispered, opening her door. “You could come inside.”
There was no mistaking what the invitation meant. With a groan of desire, he hauled her into his arms and through the door, kicking it shut behind them. His kisses were hot and hungry and fevered. His hands roamed her body, making her ache with desire. All of the restraint he’d held in place for six months melted away as he picked her up and carried her into her bedroom.
He’d placed her on the bed and leaned over her, his eyes shining and tender. She’d never forget the way he’d looked at her. He’d looked at her like a man in love. He’d opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, and then his face had taken on a stricken look. He’d suddenly hauled himself to his feet. And the next thing she knew, he’d mumbled an apology, gathered up his things and left, leaving her panting for breath, her heart aching and pounding so hard, it was a wonder it didn’t bruise her ribs.
She didn’t hear from him all the next day. On Monday morning, he’d called her into his office and told her he was transferring. He’d tried to tell her on Saturday, he said, but he hadn’t found the right moment.
She’d sat there, stunned. They’d been interrupted by a business associate. She’d waited all day to talk to him again, but he’d been tied up in meetings. At the end of the day, she’d gone home, her heart aching, and waited for Nick to call. He never had. And the following day, he was gone.
“I’m just not cut out for being tied down, Rachel,” Nick said now.
She swallowed around a hard lump in her throat, then forced a smile that felt raw and tight. “I hate to tell you this, Nick, but having a baby to raise is going to tie you down considerably.”
&nb
sp; “Not like marriage. A baby is constantly growing and changing and becoming more independent. Marriage usually does just the opposite to people.”
Where had he gotten such a bitter concept of marriage? She didn’t know, but she could tell from the tone of his voice that it was a firmly held belief.
“I hate the thought of being locked into something I can never leave. The very thought of it makes me claustrophobic.”
She was starting to feel claustrophobic herself, hemmed in by old thoughts and feelings and memories. She needed to get away. Her emotions were running high, and she felt dangerously close to tears.
“It—it’s gotten late. I’d better take a rain check on that ice cream.” She rose from her chair, picked up her purse and rapidly headed for the foyer.
Nick put his hand on her arm, stopping her at the front door. “Hey—there’s no reason to rush off.”
“If I hurry, I might be able to catch up with Patricia for the second half of the double feature.”
She could feel his eyes on her as she fiddled in her purse for her keys. She was sure he didn’t believe the flimsy excuse, but she was grateful he didn’t call her on it.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.
“There’s no need. Stay inside where you can listen for the baby.”
He was still holding her arm. His hand was warm on her skin, but his eyes were warmer still. “Well, thanks for your help with Jenny. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
It took every ounce of her strength to manage a smile. “That’s what old friends are for.”
He opened the door, and she hurried through it, her head ducked down.
Old friends, he thought ruefully, watching her go. Was that what she thought they were? The casual label inexplicably stung.
But what else were they? They’d never been lovers.
The whole damn situation probably would have been easier if they had. At least then it would be a familiar scenario. He didn’t quite know how to act around her. He’d intended to clear the air, but instead he’d only muddied the water.