by Nancy Warren
When they got back to her place, she seemed completely unconcerned that a private investigator was following her. In fact, she seemed happy about it.
“Why don’t you open a bottle of wine? I’ll throw together a pasta dish.”
“Sure, what can I do?”
“Well, after you open the wine, you could pour it.”
“Smart ass.” He nudged her as he walked behind her to get the wine.
“You’re pretty tense. Is it strange to be the one being spied on? Shoe on the other foot and all that?”
“Well, apart from being fairly certain I won’t get any more work from the Carnarvon family, I have this uncomfortable feeling that I want to protect you.” He felt strange even admitting that out loud.
“Protect me from what?” she asked softly.
He shook his head. “I don't even know.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Why don’t you let me take care of you?” The words slipped out so fast they were out there, echoing in the stunned silence, before he could call them back.
“Let you take care of me?” she asked, sending them swirling around the room again like a badly returned serve.
“So, not what I meant to say.” He pulled the cork from the bottle and poured, watching the rich, ruby wine splash into the glasses.
“What did you mean to say?”
He passed her a glass. The smell of garlic frying in butter permeated the kitchen. She’d paused in the act of chopping mushrooms. She accepted the glass but her eyes stayed steady on his face.
“I’m crap at this, but I need to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve been away from my business for over a week now. I wish I could stay here. Maybe forever, but I can’t. I’ve got work, people who rely on me.”
“Okay. So go. Who’s stopping you?”
Was she out of her mind? “You are. Kate, I’m falling for you.” In fact, he’d fallen. Sometime in the past few days and he’d fallen so hard he thought he had a concussion. That’s why he couldn’t say the things he wanted to say in a way she’d understand them.
“I just ended an engagement,” she said, her voice wavering a little.
“I know,” he said ruefully. “Timing sucks. But then, if you hadn’t been engaged, I wouldn’t have met you.”
“Strange logic, but okay.”
“Come to Seattle with me.”
She was so startled, she put her wine down. Then picked it up again and sucked back a huge gulp.
He stepped in and moved the skillet off the burner before the garlic burned.
“Go to Seattle with you?” she repeated.
“Yes. I want to show you my city, introduce you to my friends.” He pushed his free hand through his hair. “Spend time with you.” He gazed into her eyes and saw something that looked a lot like panic. “Be with you.”
“It rains all the time in Seattle,” she said.
“Not all the time.” He tried to lighten the atmosphere, saying, “Fifty weeks out of fifty two is not all the time.”
“And there’s no surfing.”
“There’s tons of surfing.” He sipped his own wine. “You just have to wear a wet suit all year round.”
“My friends are here. My family’s here.”
“There are as many girls in need in Seattle as there are in LA.” Probably. “You could do good there. And for the rest, it’s an hour flight. A few hours’ drive.”
He was thinking rapidly, being a guy who liked to solve problems by looking at them from every angle.
“Or, I could relocate. Open a branch in LA.” He grinned. “There are at least as many frauds, cheats and liars in LA as there are in Seattle.”
“You’d move? For me?”
His smile went sideways. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you, Kate.”
She carried her wine into the living area and sat down. He followed her. For some reason, he didn't sit beside her. He sat across from her so he could watch her face. A knot was forming low in his belly.
“I thought you were going to be a casual fling,” she said, slowly. “My transition person.”
“You are not the fling type.”
“I’m trying to change.” She glared at him as though he’d altered the rules in the middle of a game. “You’re the fling type. That’s what made you perfect.”
“Kate, I love you.” And as much as it felt terrifying to say those words out loud, he felt better for saying them, for getting them out there. Being honest.
“No.” she seemed panicked by the words. “NO. You don’t. You can’t.”
“I do. I can.” Why was he arguing about whether he loved her or not? “This is ridiculous.”
“Love isn’t like this. It isn’t fun, and surfing, fish tacos on the beach and sex night and day.”
“Of course it is. Love is whatever two people make it.” Which was mostly an amazing gift from his viewpoint.
“No. Love is about the future. It’s planning for a family, and being part of something bigger than yourself. It’s not something that knocks you off your feet like a huge wave you didn’t see coming.”
“If that’s what you truly believe, then maybe you should marry Ted, after all.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? What are you doing, Kate?”
“I’m walking the beach. I’m teaching surfing.” She paused, looked down into her wine. “I’m healing.”
She seemed so vulnerable and he hated to push at her when she was struggling, but he couldn’t seem to stop pushing. He felt that not only was his future at stake, but hers.
“I understand that. I do. But then what? What is your life going to be?”
“I don’t know.”
“I have one more question for you. What are you going to do when you stop running away?”
Her head jerked up at that. But she didn’t argue. It was as though at that moment she accepted that she was running away.
“I’ll tell you when I figure it out,” she said evenly.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, he got angry. He pulled out his phone and pulled up the photo the vacationing couple had snapped of him and Kate on the beach. He pushed the phone at her. “Look. See your face? Do you look like you did when you were standing with Ted at one of those godawful events he dragged you to? Or do you look like the real Kate, the woman who sparkles with life?” In truth, he didn’t think she looked like either of the women in his file. He might be an arrogant ass, but to his eye, when he looked at the woman smiling at him from his smart phone, he saw a woman in love. And beside her was a poor fool who was crazy for her. “I love you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Yes, of course.” She pushed the phone back at him as though she didn’t want to look at the pair of them laughing together on the beach. “I’m honored. And grateful. But I don’t know what to say. I just got out of an engagement. I’m not ready for anything serious.”
He didn’t get angry very often. Most of the time, he didn’t see the point. Being angry meant losing control, saying and doing things you might later regret. But now he couldn’t seem to find the control he always counted on. He’d never, ever said those words to a woman. And when he finally felt the magic, finally found the woman who made him believe in love, she threw it back at him.
“Are you sure you’re out of your engagement?” he snapped.
“Haven’t you been here the last week?”
“Yeah. You’re sleeping with me. So what. You wouldn’t be the first woman who ever had a last fling before tying the knot.”
Her face went red and then white. “That is not fair.”
No, it wasn’t, and he felt like a dick. But she hadn’t been fair either. “Show me one thing you’ve done to cancel this wedding.”
She stood up. He thought she might throw her wine in his face, but she wasn’t given to the dramatic gesture. “I threw his ring back at him. I told him the wedding’s off. And I left town.”
“How m
any people have you told?”
“I’m not—“
“Bridesmaids? I bet they’d like to know they’ve got an unexpected Saturday free. Have you told them?”
She hung her head. “No. But I’m not ready to face—“
“Your social media pages. Have you updated them?”
“No.”
“The church, caterer, florist, photographer, name one thing you’ve canceled.”
She threw up her hands. “It’s not up to me, I never hired any of those people.”
“What about your friends then, the people who are at this moment trolling websites, trying to find something on the registered gift list that is both still available and affordable. Trying to decide between the sterling pickle forks and the gold plated nutcracker, because God knows everything a normal person might want has already been taken! Have you told your friends to stop wasting their time and money?”
“No,” she cried. “All right! I haven’t told anyone.”
He grabbed his shoes and put them on. “Then let me know when you do.”
“Nick, please. It’s not that simple.”
“Oh, I think it is. I think it’s very simple. You either marry someone or you don’t. And if you don’t, it’s common courtesy to let the guests and the caterers and all the people involved know that there isn’t going to be a wedding.” His voice was rising which pissed him off.
“Are you leaving?” Her eyes were big and blue and confused, which he understood but couldn’t fix. He’d been irked for days that she’d done not one single concrete thing to confirm that she wasn’t marrying Ted. All she was doing was hiding, and he was beginning to wonder who she was really hiding from.
“Yeah.” He didn’t know what to say, or do. He loved her and wanted more than anything to take back his words and return to the easy intimacy. But he couldn’t do it anymore. He’d declared his love, not very well, but he’d done it and she obviously didn’t feel the same. Not her fault, but he was hurting bad. “I have to get back to Seattle. I’ve got cases and a staff who need direction. It’s been great. Sorry to end on a bad note.”
“What about dinner?”
“I lost my appetite.”
“When are you leaving?” her voice rose, and he thought he heard a note of panic.
“Tomorrow. I’ll book a flight as soon as I get home.”
When he got to the door, she said, “Nick.”
He turned. “Yeah?”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”
How could he stay angry? He’d known she was a loyal woman. She’d been engaged. How stupid was he to have believed that she was falling in love with him simply because he was falling in love with her?
Life didn’t work that way. Life was a big joker who no sooner offered you paradise than it yanked the rug out from under you.
He walked over to her and pulled her to him. He gentled his tone. “It’s not your fault.” He kissed her one last time. He tasted her sweetness, and felt the moment she clung to him, and then he pulled slowly away and left.
This time, she didn’t stop him.
Chapter Fourteen