Paris Rose (3 page)

“Do you see anything?” she asked, her voice hushed.

“You should probably get traps.” He closed the doors and turned.

Damn.

The nighty wasn’t transparent only at the back. He could quite clearly see Lucy’s breasts, full and round. Her nipples looked delicious. Nick cleared his throat and forced his gaze upwards, to her face, only to find Lucy staring avidly at his naked chest. Then her eyes dropped to the front of his shorts, and a pink blush spread slowly across her cheeks.

Their gazes finally met and locked. He’d never forgotten how it used to be. Knew exactly what would happen if he went to Lucy now, if he touched her. She would moan softly as his hands cupped her breasts, gently squeezing and playing, and she would melt against him as he kissed her. By the time they’d reached the bed, she’d be ready for him, eager, hot, and wet with desire.

“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Okay—traps. Maybe, uh, maybe some poison, too.”

Lucy nodded, her lips slightly parted.

He wished she’d move. She was between him and the door, and he’d have to pass close to get out, which might not be—safe.

“Well, goodnight, then.” He began to edge carefully past her.

“It won’t come back, will it?”

“I doubt it,” Nick said. “It’s probably had enough excitement for one night.” The mouse wasn’t the only one—he needed an ice-cold shower.

She gave him a small, hesitant smile. “Thanks, Nick. I was so frightened.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I’m sorry I disturbed you. I know you have to get up early in the mornings.”

“Yeah,” he said, and a small silence lingered between them. She always used to get up first and start the coffee. They’d always kissed goodbye. Sometimes their kisses had turned into more, and he’d pick her up and carry her back to bed.

“Goodnight,” he repeated, his voice husky.

“Goodnight,” Lucy said softly.

He opened the front door and escaped into the night, hoping nobody would see him or the front of his shorts as he hurried back into his own house. Once inside, Nick shut the door quickly and leaned against it, his heart pounding wildly.

Holy shit.

He really didn’t know how much longer he could do this. If Lucy didn’t move away soon, if he had to see much more of her, he just didn’t know how he’d be able to stop himself from hauling her into his arms, ripping off her clothes, and making violent love to her. And that would be a bad idea. Beyond bad.

What the hell was he going to do?

****

In spite of the lateness of the hour, Lucy made herself a cup of tea. It was far too hot for tea really, but she couldn’t think of anything else that would settle her nerves as well. She stirred in a liberal dollop of honey and sat in the family room, glancing nervously back toward the kitchen, even though she’d firmly closed the door. Mice were small and creepy enough to fit beneath doors. Shuddering with revulsion, she took a sip of tea and leaned back, thinking rodents were probably the least of her problems right now.

It was highly doubtful she’d be able to sleep a wink tonight, after seeing Nick in all his muscled, half-naked glory, his incredibly hard butt encased snugly in his shorts, and those strong arms folding around her, pulling her close...Lucy sighed. She’d always felt so safe when he held her. A part of her knew if she’d simply shed her nighty and held out her arms to him, he wouldn’t have been able to resist. They’d have made love, and for a while she’d have felt the dizzying pleasure only Nick had ever given her. But then what? Then they’d be right back at square one, with Nick determined to never, ever trust her again. She needed more than sex to win him back.

Dexter scratched at the back door, and Lucy let him in, her heart heavy. She’d hoped that after all this time apart Nick might have started seriously missing her and wondering if the divorce he’d initiated had been a huge mistake. Maybe he did miss her, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be married again. Nick was stubborn. She’d hurt him so much, and it didn’t look like forgiveness was in the cards.

Leaving the teacup on the table because she was too nervous to venture back into the kitchen, Lucy finally went to bed. She closed her eyes, reliving the one part of the day she’d treasure forever—the moment Nick called her sweetheart, his arms wrapped firmly around her.

****

A designer arrived the following morning to discuss plans for the kitchen, nodding approvingly as Lucy described her vision of an open space, divided only by a half-wall from the living and dining rooms. The countertops would be pale granite and the cabinets an inviting shade of cream. Work was scheduled to start the following day.

Lucy took off on a short drive to a local DIY store, Indoors and Outdoors. School was out and several children played in the street. A family was holding a garage sale. Somebody was walking a puppy. One of the reasons she and Nick had decided to purchase a home in this area just before they wed was because they liked the mix of professionals and young families. The neighborhood was a blend of bike trails and parks, with stores conveniently close by. She’d been happy here.

After the divorce, she’d rented an apartment that had felt cramped and depressing after the luxury of a house and a garden. Lucy sighed, thinking of the crossroads she’d reached in her life. Right now she stood on the threshold of several possibilities. One road led to London, where her mother ran an antiques business, another to Paris, the city she loved, where Jean-Luc had offered her a position in his restaurant. Another option was that she could stay exactly where she was, helping run Biscuits and Berries. The problem with all of these roads was none of them led home to Nick.

She parked outside of Indoors and Outdoors, grabbed a cart, and went inside. She ticked the boring purchases off her list, dropping half a dozen mousetraps and some anti-bacterial wipes into the cart and then began to stroll the wide aisles, admiring rugs and bathroom tiles and wallpaper before coming to a halt in the paint department. Choosing a color for the three bedrooms was proving to be quite a challenge, and so far Lucy hadn’t been struck by any ideas. Something striking for the main bedroom, she thought, picking up a color sample that showcased shades of red, and then putting it back. She wanted restful too, nothing jarring or hectic. Yellow was a definite possibility. She frowned at a ten gallon can of dandelion yellow semi-gloss emulsion, and then hoisted it into the cart.

“Lucy!” She looked up to see a smiling Angie.

“Hi!”

“I want to apologize to you,” Angie said “Thrusting Rosie on your lap that way. I just—I just wasn’t thinking, which as you know is a problem I often have.”

“I should be the one apologizing. It was rude of me to just run off like that.”

“Look, could we get a coffee? Mark’s got the kids for a few hours this morning.”

Ten minutes later they were seated at a table for two, each with a long skinny cup of aromatic coffee, and Angie smiled. “This is so nice. I’ve really missed you. So what have you been up to?” Angie asked.

Lucy filled her in briefly on the months since the divorce, then quickly switched the focus of the conversation. “I guess you’ve been pretty busy yourself!”

“Kieran is four years old next weekend, if you can believe it.” Angie hesitated. “Would it be cheeky of me to ask you to make his cake? The one you made for his second birthday was spectacular. I’d pay, of course.”

“Not necessary—I’d love to bake Kieran’s cake.”

“And of course you’re invited to his party.”

“That might be a bit awkward, don’t you think?”

“Hey, if Nick doesn’t like it he can just turn around and go home.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Look, what harm is there in it? Unless it’s because of Rosie—”

Lucy shook her head. “I just have to get used to the fact that I’m not a part of your family anymore.”

“Crap,” Angie said miserably. “You know, me and Mom were hoping that with you living next door to Nick, things might just go back to being the way they used to be.”

“It’s not that simple,” Lucy said, thinking of the desire in Nick’s eyes when he looked at her, battling with a determination to never have anything to do with her again.

“This sucks,” Angie said, her eyes filling with tears. “We all love you, Lucy. None of us believe for a minute you really cheated on Nick.”

Lucy stood quickly because her eyes had filled with tears too, and she wanted to pay for her paint and mousetraps and get out. “My email’s the same. Drop me a line and tell me what kind of cake Kieran would like, and I’ll deliver it the day of his party, okay?”

Angie nodded and Lucy rushed to the checkout, aware she’d made a terrible mistake when she’d bought 78 Meadowlark Drive. She and Nick weren’t high-school kids. This wasn’t a game. They’d shared a marriage, a life, plans for the future, and they’d devastated one another.
Had she seriously thought she could win her ex-husband back with some flirting? That he’d take one look at her and promptly forget the past as he melted
into her arms?
She was playing a game she had no way of winning, and it already hurt almost more than she could bear.

****

Nick smiled at the woman sitting opposite him in the upscale Italian restaurant he’d picked for their second date in less than a week. It suddenly hit him who Olivia reminded him of—she was a dead ringer for Penelope Cruz, with the same smoky eyes, pouty mouth, silky black tresses, and knockout figure. Olivia was smart too, a successful Realtor who knew the business inside out. A college friend of Nick’s had been trying to set them up on a date for almost a year. He’d resisted, but after the business with Lucy five days ago, Nick knew urgent action was needed. Now he wished he’d started seeing Olivia months before. There was absolutely no reason why he couldn’t enjoy a satisfying, fulfilling relationship with this woman. She was perfect.

“What are you thinking?” Olivia purred, her dark eyes sparkling.

“Just how great this is,” he said. “And how I wish we’d started seeing each other months ago.”

“Oh, Nick,” she whispered.

“I want you to meet my family,” he blurted.

She looked pleased but startled, and took a slow sip of wine. “I’d like that very much,” she said finally, reaching across the table to take his hand. “But we’ve only just met. What’s the hurry?”

“There’s no hurry,” he said. “And it’s just a very informal thing—my nephew’s birthday party.”

“Well...maybe,” Olivia smiled.

“I’ll give you my sister’s address,” Nick said. He liked the fact that she wanted them to move ahead carefully, slowly. It proved she wasn’t in any way wacky or impulsive. Unlike his ex-wife, for example. Ideas would just pop into Lucy’s head—she’d decide she wanted a hamburger at midnight, or ask how he felt about keeping chickens—and she’d just go ahead with the craziest of plans, without taking the pros and cons into consideration. The chickens had been a terrible idea.

“Why are you frowning?” Olivia asked.

“I’m not frowning at you,” he assured her. “I was just thinking of something.”

They selected desserts and Olivia began talking about the house she was currently trying to sell, a mountain property worth 1.5 million with a seriously outdated kitchen but breathtaking views, and Nick nodded, forcing himself to pay attention. This woman was smart as a whip, fascinating and sexy. She was exactly what he needed.

Yet an hour later, heading home, he was in a foul mood and had no idea why. He turned the car into Meadowlark Drive, saw the lights on in number 78, and his mouth tightened grimly. Who the hell was he kidding? His ex was the reason for his mood. What man wouldn’t be in a mood with his ex-wife taking up residence right next door? It was no damn wonder he couldn’t move ahead with his life or concentrate on a new, beautiful woman. Glaring balefully at the spruced up ranch, Nick stomped into his own house, pulling off the tie constricting his neck and flinging it aside, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and wrenched open the patio doors leading into his back yard. A cool breeze kissed his face, and for a second he felt better. Then, hearing him, Dexter or whatever the hell she called her stupid little excuse for a dog, came racing over to the fence and began snuffling around where the hole used to be. It barked twice, a high-pitched yelp that Nick found intensely annoying.

“Aw, shut up,” he snarled.

“Nick?”

Lucy’s face appeared over the fence, her cheeks rosy, hair a mess, gray eyes wide. How did she do it? Nick wondered in despair. She looked more appealing minus a scrap of makeup than most women did plastered with the full works.

“Hey,” she grinned. “I just wanted to thank you for your help the other night when I was brutally attacked by a mouse.”

“I didn’t really do anything.” He shrugged.

“I bought several mouse traps, which seem to be doing the trick,” she went on. “And Dexter has caught two so far.”

He grunted.

There was a long silence.

“You look nice,” she said softly. “Did you just get back from somewhere special?”

Nick turned and gave her a long, unsmiling look. “I’m dating.”

She flinched. “Oh.”

The gathering darkness seemed suspended between them, the silence broken only by the chirping of crickets. Lucy’s gray gaze was stunned as she stared at Nick over the fence. Then she nodded slowly. “Well, goodnight.”