Blush

by Jen Doyle

  “Women,” he automatically replied. His company had an excellent sensitivity record.

  “And anyway,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “it was three months later. Way too little, way too late. I’m so sorry I didn’t bow down to you like the rest of the world.”

  No one bowed down to him; he wasn’t royalty. She’d made her point, however. And the pain in her voice cut through to him in a way nothing else could. “Nicki...”

  She stood up, the movement harsh enough to nearly knock over her chair. “Oh, and by the way?” she continued, grasping the napkin so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I sold the engagement ring because the day after you left they said I had to leave the room and the bill was due in full. Do you know how much that suite cost?”

  He had no idea whatsoever how much it cost, except that it would have been far too much for her to manage. Which was why he’d been sure to put it on his cred…

  Oh…

  Sodding hell.

  His heart thudded to a stop.

  On his credit card. The one his mother had canceled.

  He ran his hand through his hair. That was…

  Christ.

  He was honestly unable to speak for a moment. He nearly had to shake his head in order to get any words out. “But… You should have…”

  “Called? See point A about your lawyers sucking.” She threw the napkin down on the table. “You know, it turns out I’m not very hungry. Good night, Simon.”

  To say he was stunned was an understatement.

  She was making her way across the room and was almost out the door before he had a chance to catch his breath. He caught up to her just as she reached the valet stand. She took one look at him and started walking in the other direction, her arms wrapped around herself.

  “Nicki. Wait. Please.” He had no idea what to say to her. Even at the points where he told himself there must be some explanation, not once had it ever occurred to him that he was the one who’d needed to give it.

  But she wasn’t done. “Did you think all I wanted was your money? Is that what you thought I was after?”

  Still reeling from what she’d just said, Simon didn’t have his wits about him enough to school his expression.

  She took a quick step back as if she’d been slapped. “Oh, my God. You did. That’s exactly what you thought.”

  “It wasn’t…”

  Except it was. He couldn’t convincingly deny it. Not when, yes, that had been what he’d spent the better part of a decade believing.

  He felt lightheaded. As if the blood were draining from his body. His hand reached out on its own accord, seeking her warmth.

  She should’ve slapped him. She should have screamed at him. But although she tensed, she didn’t pull away, first looking down at their hands and then up and into his eyes. There it was, all the softness and vulnerability she kept hidden away, allowing glimpses only from the safe distance of her stage.

  And he found himself falling again.

  7

  It was the gruffness in his voice that got to her. The way he cleared his throat. And, yes, the way his touch brought her back to that whirlwind of a month and the way only he had ever made her feel.

  “‘It wasn’t’ what, Simon?” she said, too softly for her own comfort. He had wronged her. She’d done nothing wrong other than to think that maybe fairy tales did come true.

  Out of pure self-defense, she pulled her hand from his and took a step back. She had almost a decade’s worth of built-up rage, thank you very much, and she wasn’t about to compromise herself because the sensation of his skin on hers made her want to…

  No. It didn’t make her ‘want to’ anything.

  Fighting to keep her tsunami of tears from falling, Nicki folded her arms across her chest and tipped her chin up to him. The only reason she was allowing this conversation was because he appeared to be truly unsettled.

  Actually, really unsettled, in a way she hadn’t thought possible. It threw her. Took away a little bit of her fire. He clasped his hands at the back of his head and was clearly working through something as he paced. Had she ever seen him pace before?

  Of course, she’d known him for a total of one month, so it wasn’t like she’d ever truly known anything.

  What he finally came up with was, “My mother is a difficult person.”

  Nicki was a difficult person herself so she wasn’t sure how that was any kind of excuse, but whatever.

  “She found out we got married. She… She wasn’t pleased.”

  Nope. Not going to cut it. “My dad wasn’t ‘pleased,’ either, but you didn’t see him calling me in the middle of the night and dragging me home.”

  Her father hadn’t even alluded to any one of the weapons he kept locked away in his gun cabinet the night she’d broken the news and introduced him to Simon. Although that might have been because they’d already had the wedding part so why bother with the shotgun? That was between her and her dad, however.

  Which was her point. “And do you know why he didn’t?” She leaned forward as she spoke in a combination of a whisper and a hiss. “Because I told him that even if he thought it was a foolish thing to do, it was my business to do it. And then he went away. You’ll note that I didn’t.”

  Simon pursed his lips. “It’s complicated.”

  “I assure you I’m capable of connecting the dots,” she snapped. “So let me guess. Your mother found out, decided a showgirl from Vegas was not her idea of an acceptable daughter-in-law, and although you’d been happily roaming the world unchecked for an entire three years before you met me—during which I’m sure there were other middle of the night phone calls—you decided that was the time you were actually going to listen to her.” From the look on his face, Nicki figured she was 100% right in her take on the situation. She kept going. “I’m sure there was something to do with me being after your money as well. But I’m guessing that was just the cherry on top.”

  Now it was Simon’s turn to snap. “It wasn’t the cherry. It was the whole bloody sundae.”

  Honestly? Nicki was kind of glad to see him get a little fired up, too. She wasn’t ready to forgive him, but she’d much rather have him fighting back than just standing there like a defenseless puppy.

  Well, no. More like a Rottweiler. All muscular and beautiful and with teeth that could tear you in two if you overstepped. Especially when he let his own anger settle into the place that fueled him. His jaw clenched. “I heeded her summons—for the first time in my three years of ‘roaming unchecked’—because if I didn’t make the point in person, she would have never left us alone.”

  Oh, whatever. “And yet you left me alone, and kept it that way.”

  He bent down a little, invading her force field of personal space. “You never rang back.”

  Hell, no she hadn’t. “Because I was sobbing my eyes out!” Which she probably shouldn’t have admitted, damn it. “And I needed to get my job back. Some of us don’t have trust funds at our disposal.” Plus, she’d been homeless after foolishly giving up her lease in order to live with him in the suite she’d ended up paying for. She still couldn’t believe how naïve she’d been.

  His lips settled into a grim line. “If you had returned my calls...”

  “Your assistant’s calls,” she snapped.

  “And when I sent someone back to talk to you in person,” he continued, voice tight, “you had him turned away at the stage door.”

  Really? Again with the messenger? “Maybe there would have been a different outcome if you’d come yourself.”

  “If I could have come, I would have.” His eyes flashed but his voice had gone cold. Icy enough for her to feel shivery. “But I… It was difficult to get away.”

  As difficult as paying a $210K hotel bill when it was hard enough for her to pull together her rent each month? Nicki thought not.

  Tearing her gaze away from his mouth—where it had completely unintentionally wandered to—Nicki got her irate back. “It was
three months after you left, two and a half months after you had the annulment paperwork sent, and one and a half months after your lawyers sent me a letter saying my claim to your fortune was nullified when our wedding was, and if I got it into my head to contact you, they had no problem using the vast resources at your back to ensure I would regret it.”

  For no reason other than that her back was nearly up against the brick wall of a storefront and she needed some room to breathe, she put her hand on his chest—to keep him from coming closer.

  A bewildered look came into his eyes. “They said what?”

  She clutched his shirt maybe a little too tightly, and, for the first time, her confidence wavered.

  Did he seriously not know?

  Still, she couldn’t help but add, “Forgive me for not wanting to see anyone associated with you.”

  Except if it had been him at the stage door, she wouldn’t have cared. She would have dropped everything. She had wanted to see him. Desperately. She’d wanted to see in his eyes that although they may have been impulsive, even foolish, her feelings hadn’t been one-sided. That he’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him. Because if he hadn’t reached out to her during the whole annulment process—the calls stopped after the first week—then he’d probably flat out lied about falling in love with her. That maybe he’d just been like every other guy who only wanted a showgirl to parade around while he was in Vegas, but who had no need for her beyond that.

  And now her whole body was shaking.

  Damn it. She’d told herself she could hold it together for an hour or so—she’d have to if she was going to be working with him. But she hadn’t even made it to the ‘here’s your bread basket’ stage. “I admit it. I fell for you. You made me believe in love at first sight. Wasn’t I the fool?”

  She pushed away, needing not to be touching him any longer.

  But then his hand fell to her hip and a tremor went through her. When he looked down, his expression one of unbridled regret, she felt an urge to raise her hand to his cheek. To comfort him. To tell him that if he could just tell her it had all been a mistake—that he’d loved her then and always would—then maybe they could forget this had all happened and just go on in their happily-ever-after way.

  His eyes darkened, those gorgeous eyes that could incinerate her in one glance. His hand came up to her jaw. Gently.

  Reverently.

  “Nicki. Love.”

  No. No, no, no. She bit her lip, trying to keep it from trembling.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his emotion nearly overtaking her. She couldn’t hear this. She couldn’t go through this a second time. And yet he continued, “I am utterly, profoundly, profusely sorry.” He tilted her head up, his gaze piercing and stormy and heart wrenching, and she found herself leaning back into him, her hand going back to his chest. Then he bent towards her, just the slightest bit.

  But it was enough for her lips to go tingly. For her body to heat. For all the feelings she’d been trying to keep at bay to come roaring back. The anticipation as his tattoos rippled over his skin and he held his body over her. The way she’d melt when he’d thread her hair through his fingers. The way she’d curl up into him when he cradled her as if she were the most precious thing the universe had ever created. Thoughts of home and belonging and forever flooded her head, and against all of her better judgment, she actually found herself moving in even closer, tipping her head up just so.

  Until a flash went off, bringing her back into the moment and reminding her of how badly he’d hurt her, and how she’d sworn she’d never let anyone get that close again.

  No, for God’s sake. Not now. Not when he’d been about to tell her that it wasn’t just her; it never had been. Not if he was being honest with himself. But it was probably—no, definitely—for the best since his feelings for her didn’t matter. Couldn’t.

  Simon instinctively turned his back to the camera, shielding Nicki. Jeremy was there almost instantaneously, in itself a reminder of why they were here. No matter how upside down the tables had turned, he needed to cut this last tie, not rebuild it—not create more problems. If a picture of him with Nicki got anywhere near his mother, she wouldn’t hesitate to take matters into her own hands. She would ruin Nicki’s life without a second thought if she thought the threat was still there. He’d clearly already done enough; he couldn’t be a party to something like that again.

  He did, however, indulge himself for just one moment, inwardly cursing his family and his history and everything about his world that made it impossible for him to tell his mother to just bugger off because he’d be staying here with Nicki for the rest of his God-given life.

  Simon looked back over his shoulder and saw that the photographer was not one of the crew that sometimes followed him around but instead an older woman who he was fairly certain had been inside the restaurant.

  She whelped as Jeremy deleted the picture off her phone. Knowing Jeremy wouldn’t hand it back until the coast was clear, Simon steered Nicki to the Range Rover Jeremy had had stationed directly in front of the valet stand. He ushered her into the back seat, nodding at the driver, Thomas, once he was in the car as well. They were already moving when the driver asked, “Where to, Sir?”

  “Um… Ma’am, you mean. Right?”

  Both men turned to look at Nicki, although Thomas was much more amused than Simon was.

  Whereas Simon was still wondering if the earth had shifted on its axis, Nicki seemed entirely collected as she pulled a compact out of her purse.

  As a general principle, he’d always loved to watch her primp—watching her put on the mask she wore out into the world all the while knowing he would be the only one there when she stripped out of it. Tonight, however, he found he wanted to yank the lipstick out of her hand and… Well, unfortunately, the next thought that came to mind was to kiss it right off of her.

  Which was not a place he could allow his head to go.

  Paying him absolutely no attention, she held the mirror up to the light. “Well, presumably you’re not planning on kidnapping me. So I get to pick where I want to go. Right?”

  Deep breaths. “I was thinking we could resume our conversation.”

  “You mean the one where I just told you ‘good night’?” Her eyes never leaving the mirror, she smacked her lips together.

  Had something important not just occurred?

  Was it possible that nearly everything he’d come to believe about her over the past nine years was completely and utterly wrong?

  Apparently, that was just him. From the way she looked at him, he couldn’t even be sure.

  “Consider it resolved,” she said. “And concluded.”

  But it wasn’t resolved at all.

  Only now, however, did he notice a slight tremble in her hand and the flush of pink on her cheeks.

  So she wasn’t entirely unaffected. That was… Good. Very, very good.

  No, for Christ’s sake. It wasn’t good at all. Whether he’d been wrong or not, he still needed to let her go. He’d been born into a very specific role from which there was no escape. He ran a company with nearly 50,000 employees worldwide and sat on boards for charities that did important work. Although his mother no longer had the control she once did, she now had plenty of spare time and far too much damage still left to do. Standing directly in his mother’s line of fire so his sisters and their families could be spared was a role only Simon could play.

  Which was all why he didn’t try to stop Nicki when she snapped her compact shut and dropped it into her bag.

  “Hey, Jeeves? See that cute little Mini Cooper right up ahead? The green one with the racing stripes? How ‘bout you drop me off right there.”

  Jeeves—or, Thomas, rather—smiled as stupidly as Simon had done more than once in Nicki’s presence. “Of course.”

  Nicki reached down for her bag. “Well, it’s been fun catching up. I’ll call you once I have a meeting set up.”

  Then she leaned over, gave Simon a loud smac
k on the cheek and jumped out of the car, all while he remained sitting there, working far too hard to stay entirely composed.

  Sticking her head back in the car, she added, “Oh, and there’s a great Indian place right around the corner—you know, since we didn’t have dinner. And I know how you like your curry.”

  His upbringing kicked in and he heard himself politely saying, “Thank you. I’ll make a note of that.”

  What. The. Actual. Hell.

  Thomas frowned as they both watched Nicki get in her car. Then he looked at Simon in the rearview mirror. “Sir?”

  Simon sat back in the seat, watching as she got into her car, touching his thumb to his lip as if he could taste her there. He turned away when he saw her raise her hands to her face, her shoulders heaving once as if wracked by a sob, and he tried to tell himself this was just him wanting something he could never again have. Because the alternative might actually break him.

  Leaning his head back on the seat, he closed his eyes. “Tell Jeremy to meet us back at the hotel.” As an afterthought, he added, “And he’d better be ready to get sloshed. You should join us.”

  “Uh… Yes, Sir.”

  8

  Nicki tossed and turned through the night.

  Had he truly not known what happened? Had his lawyers never told him? Did he know they’d put the fear of God in her about talking to him ever again? She was still, actually, a little worried about that. Yet all she’d been able to think about was whether he would kiss her.

  And whether she would kiss him back.

  She still didn’t know why he was really here, and she was absolutely sure this wouldn’t be Love at First Sight, the Reunion Edition, no matter how well he could spin an apology. But despite their history—despite the fact that he’d up and left her, literally and figuratively—Simon’s kisses did it for her. They did it big time. And she desperately wanted to have them again.

  But she refused to go through anything like that ever again. So, no. It wasn’t going to happen.