For the Love of Nick (4 page)

Nick shook his head. “This is a custody battle.” He couldn’t believe it. “Over a
dog?
”

“It’s more than that, Nick.”

“Obviously, or the cops wouldn’t be out looking for you. So what did you do, steal her from him in the middle of the night? Did you also accidentally steal his cash and silver, too?”

Her eyes flashed. “I took Sadie and only Sadie. But I had a good reason.”

This was bad. He’d gotten in the middle of some silly dog dispute. And why? Because he remembered her fondly from one night well over a decade before. Because he was an idiot. “So Ted saw her as investment property and you see her as your first-born?”

“Worse.” She looked as if she didn’t have a friend in the world. She look as if she might cry at any second, and Nick let out a long breath, a complete sucker for a female in distress.

For
this
female in distress. He had no idea why just their brief, all-too-long-ago connection should still matter as much as it did. “I’m sorry,” he said over his better sense, but she looked troubled, alone, and damn it, scared. No way could he turn from that. “Tell me the rest.”

“I broke up with Ted when I could no longer ignore his possessiveness.”

There was a note in her voice that got his full attention now. Sadie was sitting on her haunches at Danielle’s feet, twin strands of drool coming from either side of her open mouth. She was panting, her tongue hanging out, watching Danielle with hero worship. Danielle put her hand on the dog’s wide head and sighed. “It got ugly, and I discovered something else about him.”

“He had a temper,” Nick guessed, feeling sick.

When she slowly nodded her head, he stepped close, very gently putting a hand on her arm. “Danielle—”

“It started when Sadie lost a dog show. It was so hot that day, and quite frankly, she just got bored. Ted really wanted to win that one because his biggest competition was there watching, but yelling at her wasn’t the answer. And then afterward Sadie limped, like her hip was bothering her. She was re
ally skittish.” She looked down at Sadie with defeat. “I think he kicked her.”

“You think? Or you know?”

“I just know.” Her voice wavered. “And then a week later she wouldn’t get into her crate when he wanted and I caught him at it. I saw him kick her.”

Nick looked into Sadie’s dark, doggie eyes and tried to imagine anyone kicking a dog that came up to his hips and nearly outweighed him. Not that it mattered. Nick happened to hate violence with a passion, especially against the innocent, and as big as Sadie was, she was an innocent. In as calm a voice as he could manage, he asked, “And you? Were you being abused, too?”

She straightened. “He wouldn’t dare.”

Sounded like he dared, all right. It was more like the guy had never gotten the chance. Damn it, why him? Why here and now, with a woman he didn’t seem to be able to turn his back on? With a woman he appeared to be more than willing to save yet again?

Ah, hell, who was he kidding. He couldn’t have turned his back on
anyone.
That it was Danielle made it only worse.

“You can see why I can’t let her get taken back,
right?” Danielle asked, determination in every line of her tense body. “I just can’t.”

“Okay.” He shoved his fingers in his hair and tried to think. “Can you prove Sadie is yours?” She just bit her lower lip, making him groan. “You can’t. Which is why you’re on the run with her.”

“I can prove we
shared
ownership, yes, but that’s not good enough. They might make me share her, and I can’t let that happen. I paid for half of her when she was a puppy, but that’s not so easy to prove, it turns out, as there was some comingling of funds along the way between various vet bills and food and things.” Bending down she hugged Sadie tight, and in return, the dog licked her ear.

Then Danielle looked up at Nick with those huge, huge eyes. “All I need are the professional shots of Sadie to give to an art director I know. He’s going to get me some commercial endorsements.”

“Which equals money.”

“Yes.”

“And you need the money to…”

“Vanish.” She pressed her face into Sadie’s neck. “Ted drained my bank account. With an ATM card I gave him.”

He stared at her, saw her pain and humiliation,
and bit back his oath. “What about your family? Can’t they help you?”

“It’s just my mother. We’re…not very close. Besides, she doesn’t have any extra money.”

“I see.” And damn it, now he did. She was truly alone in this. She was going to take her dog and walk right out of his life.

He should let her.

But he didn’t want her to go. Didn’t want to lie awake for the next fifteen years still wondering
what if….

“W
ELL
.”
Danielle put on a smile that might have wobbled just a bit before she forced it, and reached for Sadie’s leash. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done.”

Nick was standing close, too close, looking edgy and more than a little unnerving because of it.

What did he want?

He’d let her in. He’d taken the pictures he hadn’t wanted to. He’d put up with the nervous Sadie when he didn’t know or understand dogs.

And he’d lied to the police.

That alone would have made her grateful forever, but now she owed him, and she hated that. Combined with all the memories from so long ago, with her silence over her friends’ behavior, with the way he’d saved her that night as he had today, she felt unsteady. Nervous. Over the years, Nick had become the chance she had never—but should have—taken.

Now, on top of it, he’d touched some personal
part of her she’d promised no man could ever touch again. “Thank you,” she said, knowing it wasn’t enough.

His sharp green eyes narrowed, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “That sounds like goodbye.”

“Do you suppose I could take the film you shot of Sadie? I’ll pay you for it, and then have it developed myself.”

“Where?”

“I’ll take it to one of those one-hour places.”

He winced.

“Oh, don’t be a photo lab snob now,” she said, trying not to notice how her body liked being close to his, how it leaned even closer, making her stomach tickle. How his hands were shoved low in his front pockets, drawing her attention to— “I really need to go,” she said abruptly.

“Yeah.” His hands came out of his pockets to touch her arms. He stroked them up and down the limbs she hadn’t realized were chilled from stress and worry. And in spite of herself, she let out a little shiver that had nothing to do with being cold.

At the involuntary movement, he went still, very still, as if he felt it, too, that inexplicable connection from his flesh against hers.

An odd sound escaped her, one that sounded horrifyingly like…
need,
so she bit her lip to keep quiet.

In return, he let out a rough groan. “Do you remember that night, Danielle? The dance?”

She closed her eyes, her heart squeezing as the years fell away in her mind. “I remember.” It played across the backs of her eyes with startling clarity. “Prom.”

“You looked beautiful.”

“I was with Adam Bennett.”

“Star of the football team.” His voice hardened. “First-class asshole.”

Danielle opened her eyes, but the images were still there. “He took off, leaving me in the parking lot because I…um, didn’t want to…”

“Yeah.” Nick’s eyes held so much, she could hardly look at him. “I gave you a ride home.”

She’d stared out the passenger window of his car, wondering if all men were jerks. “You never said a word, didn’t tell me how stupid I’d been to go with him, about how my friends treated you, nothing.” She marveled at that all over again. “You just drove me home, to the trailer park I didn’t want you to see, walked me to the door, and…”

A ghost of a smile crossed his mouth. “That
and
gave me great dreams for years.”

He was staring at her mouth, making her stomach fizzle again. “It was just a kiss,” she said.

“Hmm.” His lips curved into a full smile now. “Some ‘just a kiss.’ You should know, I’ve never forgotten it.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. It hadn’t been like her other experiences. He hadn’t shoved his tongue down her throat or his hands up her shirt.

Nick’s mouth had been gentle, tender and incredibly, amazingly arousing. If she was being honest, then she also had to admit she’d yearned for another like it. From him, something she’d been sure had been a lost opportunity.

They were nearly mouth to mouth now, and though she had no idea who’d moved closer to whom, she stood there staring up at him, mesmerized. He stared, too, for so long her tongue darted out to lick her suddenly dry lips.

With another deep, dark sound from his throat, he stepped back. “Damn it. I can’t.”

“Can’t…what?”

“Can’t let you walk out of here, knowing you’re in trouble.”

She couldn’t remember the last time someone
had looked at her like that, as if she really mattered, and without warning, her throat closed. In danger of losing it, she sought to lighten the mood that had spiraled out of her control. “Do you save all the fair maidens?”

“Only you, apparently.” He wasn’t going to help her lighten anything. “Where will you go?”

“You don’t really want to know.”

“Yes, I do.”

“If you don’t know, we can go back to what we were. Two people who went to high school together, two people who’ve lost track of each other.” She turned away. “You don’t know anything about me, and—”

“And what?” He whipped her back to face him. “You don’t know me? Here, try this. I’m business-sitting for my two sisters. I have a great family I don’t see often enough. I’m a journalist. Hard news, mostly. I dabble in photography. Just took my first dog shots. The past two weeks have been my first vacation since…” He frowned. “Since I don’t remember.” His frown deepened. “What else do you want to know?”

“Nick—”

“I’ve been traveling the world writing stories since right after college, and you know what?” He
bent a little to look right into her eyes. “I can’t recall when I’ve been back here for more than five days straight since high school graduation, and yet we ran into each other. Here. Now.” He touched her jaw, shaking his head in wonder. “Don’t you think that’s odd? Or maybe just fate?”

“I don’t believe in fate,” she said flatly, then held out her hand. “Can I have the film please?”

With a finger so light she might have imagined it except she was looking right at him, he scooped back a rogue strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ears. “You look tired,” he said softly.

If he only knew. She hadn’t slept in days, only snatches here and there. “I can’t take the time to rest, not yet.”

“You have bruises under your eyes.” Bruises he ran his finger over lightly, as if he could remove them with just a touch. “Where have you been sleeping?”

In the back seat of a far too small Honda, borrowing the use of a shower when she could, but that sounded pathetic, and her pride reared its ugly head again. “I’ll be fine.” She continued to hold out her hand for the film. “Just tell me how much.”

“No.”

“No?” Panic surged. “I need that film, Nick.”

He sighed. “Yes, you can have the film. No, you can’t pay me. Look, obviously we can’t stay here, but I can develop the black-and-white shots at my place. It’s here, in Providence. Let me do that for you.”

She stared at him, half suspicious, half dying to be able to believe in someone, anyone. “Why?”

“Why?” He looked baffled that she’d even ask. “Do I look like the kind of man who’d let you walk out that door, knowing the trouble you’re in? Knowing that your ex could find you at any moment? That the cops are looking for you? That you’re scared and alone and probably beyond exhausted, not to mention hungry and broke?”

Her throat burned all the more. “I’m f—”

“Don’t say fine. Don’t lie, not to me.”

“With those pictures, I’ll be—”

“Fine,” he said in concert with her, and let out a disparaging sound. “Well, your kind of
fine
sucks, Danielle.”

“I’m sure you have better plans for the evening than developing the film for me.” She didn’t know why she pushed him, maybe because hearing him voice his concerns had shaken her. Maybe because she didn’t want to be forced to accept help, espe
cially from a man who could melt the walls she’d so carefully built around her heart without even trying.

“At the moment, my only plans are closing up this place so we don’t have any more surprise guests.” He put the lens cover on the camera. Shut the closet door. Came to stand in front of her; a tall, hauntingly familiar man, looking as if he didn’t quite know what to do with her. Reaching out, he took her hand, turned it palm up and dropped the film canister in it. “I can’t force you to trust me, or to accept my help—”

“No, you can’t.”

“But I can ask it of you. Please?”

She tucked the film into her pocket, overwhelmed by both the need to keep running, and the tightness in her chest that indicated she wanted to let him help. “Nick…”

“I know.” His voice was low, gruff. “I wouldn’t want help, either.”

“I’m going to be okay.”

“Yeah.” He touched her again, just a hand on her arm.

It electrified her.

“But you’re running on empty,” he said softly, and kept on touching her. “Whether you want to
admit it or not, you’re going to shut down. Then what?” His finger slid into her hair, his thumb stroking her jaw. “You get Sadie taken away? Maybe put back into the hands of your ex? You get yourself a police record you don’t need or deserve?” Lightly, he stroked his hands to her shoulders, which he gently rubbed, right where all the tension had balled into one tight knot.

She nearly melted to the floor.

Then his fingers danced up, slipping beneath her collar now, skin to skin. Her nipples beaded, shocking her. Spontaneous arousal wasn’t something she’d experienced in a very long time, and not only did she feel hot and itchy from the inside out, she felt confused. She closed her eyes. “I won’t get caught.”

“You don’t deserve this, Danielle. Come with me.” His mouth was close to her ear. Their bodies brushed together. “I can develop the film for you at my place.”

“I thought you weren’t a photographer.”

“Not a professional, no. It’s just a hobby, passed down from my father. Come with me.”

To his place. “I…couldn’t.”

“You’d rather sleep in your car again.”

Her gaze jerked up to his. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” He backed away and began shutting off lights, his movements slow and sure, but she had no trouble reading the tension in his tight, tough body.

Every time he passed Sadie, the dog regarded him very seriously, as if still determining whether he could be trusted or not.

Danielle did the same.

Finally, with just the one small light left on in the reception area, he stopped directly in front of her. “Are you going to keep waiting for me to leap out and yell boo?”

She let out a low laugh. “I’m not afraid of you.”

But she was, because he threatened the one thing no one else ever had.

Her heart.