B008KQO31S EBOK (26 page)

Read B008KQO31S EBOK Online

Authors: Deborah Cooke,Claire Cross

BOOK: B008KQO31S EBOK
8.74Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

He heaved a ragged sigh and flung out one hand. “Don’t you see, Phil? Do you think I don’t see what you want? But I don’t do commitment. I don’t stay anywhere for long. I don’t get involved—because every time I have, things have gone straight to hell. If you knew anything about me, you wouldn’t want what you think you want.”

“There you go, knowing all again.”

“It matters to me that we’re friends,” he said hoarsely. “This would change everything, and almost certainly end badly.”

“I thought you were the risk-taker.”

“Not when the stakes are this high.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. It was hard to be angry with him, even though lust was short-circuiting my wiring. “Our friendship is important to me, too, Nick. I just wonder whether it’s something more.”

He folded his arms across his chest and eyed me grimly. “I’m trying to do you a favor, Phil. We’re not the same kind of people. Our families are as different as can be.”

“You’re the one who told me to buck expectations.”

“But Phil...”

He looked so apologetic that I couldn’t stand it anymore. Everything worked in the hormonal department for him, I’d tripped all his switches but he wasn’t really interested in me.

So, now I knew. I guess I should have been glad he didn’t take what I offered, that he had done the noble thing. I might have regretted it in the morning.

On the other hand, maybe I wouldn’t have.

“It’s okay. No means no. Message received. Goodnight, Nick.” His eyes flashed, but I marched into the bathroom, locked the door and made a lot of noise brushing my teeth. I opted for the flannel granny gown, knowing that it was about as sexy as a burlap bag.

Just in case you’re not sure, I’m not casual about intimacy. The guy who eventually slips between my sheets will be planning to hang around for a lifetime.

Or so I’ve always maintained. There are these moments though—like the one when I came out of the bathroom to find Nick peeling off his shirt in the living room—when it seems as though the love of my life is taking a long time to show.

I was starting to think that chastity was seriously over-rated. Chances were pretty good that one day—say, Sunday—I would hate myself for not jumping Nick’s bones at least once before he disappeared.

But he wasn’t gone yet. I had two days.

I decided to make them count.

So, yes, I looked, then disguised healthy feminine curiosity with a rummage in the linen closet when he turned around. He was completely untroubled by partial nudity or proximity, appearing suddenly in my peripheral vision in nothing but his jeans.

But Nick wasn’t even looking at me, so the nightgown must have evoked its spinsterhood charm. “What is that?” he asked, pointing into my bedroom and not indicating the bed.

I thought he meant the flats of seedlings perched willy-nilly under the window, and half-heartedly started my heritage seeds explanation again. He laid one warm finger across my lips to silence me.

Oh, it worked.

He watched my throat work for an instant before meeting my gaze once more. “No, Phil,” he whispered. “That.”

To my mortification, he pointed to the corner of the ceiling.

“Oh, well, it’s my star.” I forced a smile and tried to rush past him, foolishly assuming that he wouldn’t follow me into my haven. He didn’t quite. He sauntered after me and leaned in the door frame as I should have guessed he would until he had an answer that suited him.

It was absolutely the worst confession I could have to make under the circumstances. He’d think I was still some heartsick adolescent who never grew up. I fussed with the linens and tried to ignore him.

“That’s a stick-on phosphorescent star.”

If he wanted a medal for naming that toy, he wasn’t going to get it from me. “So?”

“Where’d you get it?”

“I begged it off my nephew when he got an entire constellation for his bedroom ceiling.” I checked my babies with more concern than they really needed. “Goodnight already.”

“Why?”

I threw him a look that should have been a warning. “You ask a lot of questions, you know.”

“Maybe I’m a naturally inquisitive person.”

“There’s an understatement.”

He watched and waited, probably knowing that he was the only male to have gotten this close to my bed—at least in this apartment—who wasn’t blood related.

And knowing damn well why I had that star.

Which meant there wasn’t a lot of point in being coy.

I turned to face him, betting he could outwait me. “Okay, I like to wish on the brightest star before I go to sleep. This way, I don’t have to go looking for the star every night. It’s right here, the last thing I see before I close my eyes. There, end of story hour.” I propped my hands on my hips. “I thought you were exhausted.”

“Does it work?” He clearly wasn’t going to be easily dissuaded.

“Oh, I don’t know.” I looked at the star. “The galley slave wish seems to have come out all right.”

He chuckled, but didn’t turn away. No, he stood there and looked at the damn star, as though he would wait all night to know whatever the heck it was he wanted to know.

“Isn’t it time you tucked up on the couch?”

“I remember you picking out a star once.”

Oh, so did I. I looked at that star and wished with all my heart and soul that he wouldn’t figure out that the memory of that magical night was the reason I had made this a habit.

Nick’s expression turned distant, the way it had when he talked about Bhutan. “You’ve really got to go to Morocco, Phil,” he murmured. “There’s a place, generously called an auberge or an inn, out by the dunes of the desert. It’s near Merzouga.”

“Merzouga.” It was irresistible to try out the name. It felt as exotic on my tongue as it sounded. “That’s the town?”

“Well, a lot of these places are more a feeling than a destination.” Nick smiled. “They don’t do the New England four square corner much. Sometimes there’s only one building, sometimes the name refers to a general district, sometimes there really is a cluster that we would call a town.”

He looked at me again, his voice dropping low enough to lull me to the land of good dreams. “But you can sleep on the roof of this place when the weather’s good. It’s miles from anywhere—in fact, I have to hire one of the locals every time I drive out there. There’s no road and it’s too easy to get lost in the shifting dunes. The only electricity comes from generators and people are pretty tight with it, so it’s dark at night, really dark.

“When a full moon rises, it’s as though the sun is coming up. It actually casts a shadow. I never knew there were so many stars. You can hardly see the sky for them. They’re dazzling.”

He shook his head and looked at me, his eyes gleaming, his voice filled with an affection that made me shiver. “You’d have a hard time picking which one was the brightest one to hang your wish on, Phil.”

We stared at each other across the darkened room and I knew then that he hadn’t missed the connection.

But he wasn’t going to make me feel like an idiot about it.

“Why did you really sell your company, Nick?” I asked quietly. “You obviously aren’t tired of traveling.”

He abruptly turned away. “Yes, I am. That part of my life is done. Goodnight, Phil.”

But I had had enough slamming doors to last me a while.

* * *

“That’s
it
!”

Phil stormed out of the bedroom behind him, an avenging angel in beribboned blue flannel. He guessed she didn’t know how the soft fabric clung in all the right places.

He enjoyed the view for a moment, only now accepting that she hadn’t befriended him to get closer to his brother. He’d always assumed that was the reason she’d first approached him, never mind the reason they’d become friends. Now he wondered what had led him to that conclusion, let alone what had made him cling to it all these years.

But Phil couldn’t lie. And the way she had looked at him had completely shaken the foundations of his universe. She liked
him
. That seemed like a stupid thing to both please and excite a thirty-five year old man.

Even though he knew nothing should ever come of it. Even though he knew he couldn’t be good for her. He wouldn’t be responsible for Phil’s inevitable disappointment, or her tumble from her tightrope of control. He cared enough about her to be sure that he didn’t ruin her.

He had a certain touch in that department, after all.

Her eyes flashed and she jabbed a finger through the air at him. She was flushed and furious.

“Look, it’s a bird, it’s a plane, no, it’s RETICENT MAN!” She flung out her hands and shouted.

The neighbor upstairs thumped on the floor.

“All right!” she cried at the ceiling, then leveled a glare at him that did not bode well for his future. “Honest to God, Nick, I’m going to get you a T-shirt with a big red R on the front and make you wear it everyday as a warning to the unsuspecting people of planet Earth who might just be foolish enough to think that you would actually admit to something!”

She paused for breath but only just barely. “How
dare
you refuse to tell me anything at all? What kind of deal is this? Compared to you, the Great Sphinx is making the talk show circuit—every single question I ask, you shut me right out. I thought we were friends! Can’t I be curious about the fifteen years you’ve been gone?”

She huffed.

He shrugged, feeling that anything he said would sound inadequate. “I’m not used to talking about myself.”

“Well, we have a deal, in case you’ve forgotten, and I get two more answers out of you.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Ante up.”

He sank onto the couch and studied her. Phil’s feet were bare, the hem of the gown swinging high enough that he could see the sweet curve of her insteps, the sexy line of her ankles. He laced his fingers together and leaned his elbows casually on his knees, pretending his blood wasn’t simmering and his jeans weren’t too tight.

Or that he was checking out her feet.

Let alone that it had taken everything within him not to snatch up what she offered.

What he needed was a bit of sleep. Just enough to bolster his legendary self-control.

“You can’t leave me in the dark like this!” she retorted, his own little Amazon queen. “It’s not fair.”

“What’s fair got to do with anything?”

“Right! I open my apartment to you, I drive to Rosemount for no reason whatsoever, I try to help you—but you put
zipadeedoodah
into the mix. I am not a charitable organization, all indications to the contrary!”

“No, you’re a secret collector and you want one of mine.”

That took the wind out of her sails. Her shoulders sagged and she looked smaller suddenly. She took a step back, her expression so wounded that he had to make her smile.

He winked. “Besides, you seem to be putting up with me so far.”

That brought her chin back up. “Only because I’m a paragon of tolerance.” She gritted her teeth visibly. “You’ve officially used it all up, Nick Sullivan. The buck stops here. Now give me a decent answer or pay the price.”

He deliberately let that threat and its potential innuendo lie. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Bullshit.”

He blinked, never having heard Phil swear before.

She looked unrepentant. “You think it’s fair that you weasel all sorts of embarrassing tidbits out of me, but don’t reciprocate?”

“Weasel?”


Weasel
.” Phil nodded. “There’s definitely something subversive about it all. You cook for me, just to soften me up, then charm the most embarrassing stuff out of me.”

He couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of
weaseling
before.”

“Because your friends are too chicken to tell you the truth—” her tone turned cutting “—or because this behavior is something special, just for me?”

He had hurt her, again, without meaning to do so. She hid it well but not well enough to fool him. “Phil, don’t go making this into more than it is...”

“More than murder?” She lifted her chin and charged on even as he winced at the word. “How am I supposed to know what the real story is? Maybe you’re lying to me about the cash in your wallet—maybe you
did
plan ahead to not need a bank machine. Maybe you
did
kill Lucia and I’m ending up being accessory after the fact for letting you stay here.”

He gave her a hard look, willing her to agree. “You don’t believe I killed her.”

But Phil wasn’t going to play by his rules now. “Maybe I won’t tell you whether or not I do.”

She tossed her hair and turned around, flicking her foot in a way that she probably didn’t know made him want to pounce on her. He shoved a hand through his hair and leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a heavenly moment. She had to be the most determined woman he’d ever met.

She certainly didn’t take no for an answer as easily as most.

And oh, she had him tied up in knots.

“Phil, you wouldn’t let me stay here if you had the slightest suspicion against me.” He spoke more reasonably than he felt, her agreement more important to him than he liked to admit. “You’re too sensible for that.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

He rummaged around and came up with an excuse that sounded somewhat plausible. The truth was something he didn’t even want to think. “We’re so different that I’m curious about you, that’s all. You don’t have to answer any question I ask if you don’t want to.”

“Bull.” She sat down on the other end of the couch, making it bounce slightly and he looked sideways at her. She had that stubborn expression he knew better than to trust, though she didn’t look as angry. Mutinous maybe. Had he ever met a woman who grabbed his attention and held on as effectively as Phil?

His tired brain wondered whether he’d been running from more than he had thought when he left Rosemount all those years ago.

“It’s just the opposite,” she argued. “We’re so much the same that you’re curious.”

That made him sit up and take notice. “How do you figure that?”

She ticked her points off on her fingers. “We both had to start our own businesses, we both decided against going to college, we both bucked our family’s expectations. We’re both proud of what we accomplished. Though you’re more of an environmental nut than me, neither one of us wants the usual suburban comfort package.”

Other books

In at the Death by Harry Turtledove
The Love of My Life by Louise Douglas
Thinner by Richard Bachman
Second Chance Brides by Vickie Mcdonough
Dog and I by Roy MacGregor
Moon's Choice by Erin Hunter
Silent Playgrounds by Danuta Reah
His Bonnie Bride by Hannah Howell