Best Laid Plans (Dearly Beloved) (4 page)

But she did remember the way he had held her hand as he walked her to the door. She’d never forget the way his scent washed over her as he leaned down to meet her eye-to-eye. She breathed deeply, let the musky scent of leather and whiskey lightened with a touch of citrus fill her lungs. He smelled of the boardroom, of three-piece suits, and business deals; but also of something deeper, more primal.

Her heart fluttered against her rib cage and she wondered if a man with this much sex appeal could cause a heart attack.

“We will have dinner again, Claire.” His warm breath tickled her cheek as he whispered.

“I-I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Mister—”

Nick sighed and cut her off. The air he exhaled set an errant curl to dancing, and sent more shivers through her. She locked her knees.

“Nick. That’s your first order of business, Claire. You are going to call me Nick.” He leaned away from her and she noticed the crinkles at the corners of his eyes for the first time. Good heavens. The man might even laugh occasionally. “Even my executive assistant calls me Nick, as much as I terrify her. If she can call me by my first name, I don’t understand why you can’t.”

“Terrify? You think I’m afraid of you?” Without thinking she leaned closer, eyes narrowed and heat flushing her cheeks. Before she realized her mistake, he’d kissed her. His encircling arms pinned her against his chest, one hand splayed across her back, the other cupping her head as he angled his mouth across her lips, demanding her surrender. And she had. Her body melted against his, her lips softened and firmed in turn as he coaxed her response.

Claire blinked rapidly once he stopped. Her cheeks still radiated heat and her chest rose and fell with the effort to breathe. No one should be able to kiss like that. No one! Nick didn’t look discombobulated. Or even mussed. Or breathless.

“Perhaps you’ll invite me in for a nightcap?”

Her body insisted this was an excellent suggestion. Her heart lobbied for the same but a very small part of her brain ordered her to take one step back, put space between them, and think about the consequences.

“No.” She hadn’t intended to sound so blunt. He chuckled, his wonderful eyes crinkling again. His grin looked almost boyish and far too much like the rascal who just got away with mischief. “I have a busy day tomorrow, as I’m sure you do as well. Don’t you have some small country to buy or something?”

Nick’s chuckle deepened to laughter. “Or something. I take lunch at one. Will you be at the house or your office?”

Claire opened her mouth but no words came out. She clamped it shut before she stuttered something inane. How did this man have the ability to fluster her so easily?

“I’ll send the car for you at your office. We’ll have lunch and compare notes for the wedding. Good night, Claire.” Nick turned on his heel and strolled down the walkway. Without looking back, he called, “Be sure to lock your door.”

She fumbled with the door, managed to get inside, closed the door, and locked it as ordered. She leaned against the sturdy wood and caught her breath. “Claire Vitale, you are in so much trouble now! There aren’t enough cold showers in the world to keep you immune from that man’s appeal.”

****

“May I ask you something?”

Claire tilted her head, curious that Laurel would ask permission before blurting out whatever was on her mind. Generally, unless her father was around, words bubbled out before the girl ever thought about them. Why would she ask permission now? “Of course, Laurel.”

“Why won’t you admit that you and Dad are dating?”

Her mouth snapped shut after gaping for a moment. “Dating? Who said we were dating?”

“Dad. But you keep denying it. I’d like to know why.”

What could she say? Claire did deny that she and Nick were dating. She denied her attraction. She denied that her heart raced when her cell phone played the ring tone she’d assigned him. At a loss for words, she simply stared at Laurel.

“He likes you, you know. A lot. You make him smile.”

“I do?”

Laurel nodded emphatically. “You totally do. Dad was…” Her lips formed a contemplative moue. “A serial dater. He never took the same woman out twice. And he never asked them. They always asked him. Usually as an escort to some charity affair or a dinner party. I just want to make sure you’re serious about him.”

“Serious?” Claire gulped and wondered when she’d lost control of this conversation. “About your father?”

The girl stared, arms folded across her chest in an attitude so reminiscent of Nick, Claire almost laughed. And would have but for the tone of this conversation.

“Dad doesn’t take off from work, Claire. Ever. He missed a board meeting yesterday because he took you on that picnic on his sailboat.”

Claire’s mouth dropped open again. “He what?” She didn’t know whether to be angry or complimented. She’d accused him of being a workaholic often enough, but now this?

Nick Grant breathed the rarified air of the mega-wealthy, commanded underlings with the snap of his fingers or an arch of his brow. How could such a man be interested in her? She had no illusions. Good grief, she was five-foot-nothing and built like an ad agency’s idea of the perfect grandma.

She stared out the window behind Laurel’s head, lost in thought. How
did
she feel about Nick? If she were honest, she’d admit that the last few weeks had been a whirlwind of activities any sane woman would call dates. She saw him every day.

Even in the most mundane of settings, the looks he bestowed on her conveyed—what exactly? Companionship? Friendship? Intimacy? Yes. All of the above. And they had progressed from that first soul-searing kiss to caresses and kisses designed to weaken both her knees and her resolve.

“He skipped a board meeting. Let his vice president handle things. I…Frankly, Claire, I feel like my dad has been kidnapped and a clone left in his place.” Laurel chuckled and blushed. “Don’t get me wrong. I sort of like the new Nick Grant. But at the same time…it’s just totally weird.”

Claire’s jaw dropped again but before she could respond, Laurel galloped ahead.

“Weird in a good way, I mean. You’re really good for Dad, Claire.” She dropped her eyes and cleared her throat, speaking without looking up. “You’re really good for me, too. I like you almost as much as he does.” Laurel lifted her gaze and focused on her. “And I like you a whole lot!”

“I like you, too, Laurel. A bunch. I…I don’t quite know what to say about all this. Your father is—well, frankly, he’s a force of nature.”

Laurel giggled and rolled her eyes. “You think? But that’s my point. Since meeting you, going out with you? He’s a different person. One I don’t always recognize, but it’s kind of cool.”

The girl turned away, and began chattering on about the latest group of wedding gifts delivered that morning.

Under normal circumstances, Claire would have gathered each gift card and listed the giver and gift for future reference and thank you notes. Laurel, however, had begun doing the task herself, chatting with her about the people behind the gifts. Claire enjoyed the affectionate visits.

If she were honest, she regretted never having a child of her own; and if she could pick a daughter, Laurel would be number one on her wish list. The girl chatted away, oblivious to Claire’s introspection—or the direction her thoughts had turned.

The daydream had become more insistent the closer Laurel’s wedding day came. Claire pictured herself walking down the aisle on the arm of a groomsman, to be seated on the front row of the bride’s side. Standing when the string quartet played the procession music, and turning to see Laurel on Nick’s arm. Her daughter. Her husband.

“I can’t believe Justin’s Aunt Phoebe is threatening to run naked through the fountains.”

Claire blinked the stars from her eyes, realizing she’d blotted out Laurel’s running commentary. Laurel giggled and shook a finger at her.

“Caught you. What’s that old saying? A penny for your thoughts?”

Her blush heated her cheeks. “Busted. I have to admit I was thinking about your father.”

“Excellent! Want to know a secret?” Laurel waggled her eyebrows and leaned closer. In a conspiratorial whisper, she added, “I catch him doing the same thing about you.”

****

Nick pressed his palms against the glass display case as he stared at the array of rings sparkling against a black velvet backdrop. He’d stopped in on a whim when he’d looked up and recognized the name of the jewelry store.

Catching a glimpse of his reflection, he noted the wry grin he didn’t even try to suppress. He knew how he felt about Claire. She might drive him to distraction but he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He was positive she felt the same away about him though the woman was too stubborn to admit it.

The clerk set out several of the rings for closer inspection. His gaze riveted on one set. He picked it up and watched it sparkle under the light.

“That’s a beautiful platinum ring, Mr. Grant. The center marquise-cut diamond is slightly over one-and-a-half carets. You’ll notice the two tapered baguettes on the engagement ring match the two on the wedding ring. They’re—”

“I’ll take it.”

The clerk’s mouth gaped before he cleared his throat and nodded. “I’ll write up the sale, sir.”

Nick smiled as he pictured Claire’s reaction to the ring. The setting was elegant and simple, just like the woman herself. He handed over his credit card, signed the slip, and accepted the silver bag with the velvet box inside.

Out in his car, he transferred the ring box to his pocket. He’d know when the time was right to pop the question and he wanted to be prepared. All his plans were coming together and Claire would be his before the end of the summer.

Chapter 6

There wasn’t enough wine in the cellars of Bella Italy or any of the other fine restaurants Claire had visited with Nick to get her relaxed—not sitting this close to him in his sports car as he piloted it down the coastal highway.

She still didn’t want to admit their dinner engagement two months ago had been their first date. Yes, it had ended with an insistent kiss at her front door. And a cold shower after she closed said door. In fact, her utility bill was way down from all the intervening cold showers, so she should be thankful.

They’d been together every day since—and every evening. Shutting her door had become increasingly harder. Her sexy bits poised on the brink of rebellion and she couldn’t blame them.

The man was charming. A great conversationalist when he didn’t finish her sentences. He danced. What man
danced
in this day and age? When he took her in his arms, she promptly forgot everything. That was not a good thing.

He was also pushy, a control freak, and, as Heidi called him, Bossypants McBossy. At the same time, Claire had to give him credit. Since she’d been spending time with him, Nick had mellowed. Oh, he still negotiated. But he acquiesced on the things Laurel deemed important—
after
haggling, of course.

And those negotiations were problematic. She was always at the center of them. Time with her. Dates with her. Kisses. Dances. Holding hands and touching and… A deeply feminine sigh escaped and she hoped the wind carried it away before he heard it. The low chuckle teasing her left ear banished that hope.

Nick steered with one hand while he wrapped his right hand around her left. After a gentle squeeze, his thumb teased the skin on the back of her hand with soothing strokes.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Claire managed not to blush. “Why?”

“Why what?”

She gestured with her right hand to indicate him, her, the car, the scenery. “This. Why all this?”

He squeezed her hand before returning his hand to the gear shift between them. Working brake, clutch, and accelerator with ease, he powered through a series of curves and then pulled off the highway onto a scenic lookout. Once he’d stopped and parked, he turned to her. “Why not all this?”

He looked amused but sincere. It was an expression only Nick could pull off and Claire reminded her quivering insides of that. “Is this just a game to you, Mr. Grant? Because I stood up to you?”

“You did. And you do. All the time. I should be upset with you, recalcitrant woman that you are. Instead I find myself fascinated.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and a bit lower, before returning to her eyes. “And for the record, I don’t
play
games. Not even golf.”

No, he wouldn’t. He would attack the golf course like he attacked everything else in his life—full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes. She was the one playing the game, challenging him by not using his first name. That became harder and harder with each kiss. Claire glanced over at him. His expression remained serious but there was some major sparkle going on in his eyes.

He cupped her cheek with one hand and leaned in to kiss her. His lips explored hers, nibbling and pressing while his tongue teased her mouth for entrance. She relented, her lips softening against his, relaxing to let his tongue dip inside. He stopped, relinquished her, and she almost cried with wanting him back.

“Bottom line, Claire Vitale. I like you. Take that as a compliment. I don’t like many women.”

She stared at him as blood pounded in her ears. Could she believe him? Her gaze didn’t waver as he leaned in and kissed her again.