Return to Sender (12 page)

Nick and Chelsea hadn’t talked so civilly to each other in years. Maybe there was hope for them, after all. But that little voice whispered in his ear,
Can you trust her?
He chose to believe not. She’d screwed him too many times in the past, starting with day one.

Nick’s cell phone rang again. He dreaded the next few days. “Yes?” he stated.

“Would you like to comment on the article in the
Post?
” a female voice asked.

“How did you get this number? This is a private cellular line!” Nick shouted.

“Mr. Pemberton, do you have any comments?” the female voice asked again.

“No!” Nick clicked the
POWER
button off. “That was a reporter. I don’t know how she got my number. This is going to be a nightmare. I can feel it already.”

“I could call a press conference or something. Tell them the story is a lie. It is, Nick. I wouldn’t live with a man who knocked me around. I think you know that. I must have been drugged and taken from the house. I can ask Dr. Warner to run a toxicology screen. I’m going to file a police report, too. I’m sure I was taken unwillingly from the penthouse last night. The last thing I remember was hearing the doorbell ring. I…I was upset because Nora didn’t answer…. After that I draw a complete blank. Now, the question is, who did this and what was their motive?”

“I’m calling Trevor.” Trevor McDermott had been the family attorney since Nick was in high school. “This is libel or slander.”

Nick kept the attorney’s number on his speed dial.

When Trevor answered, Nick didn’t bother with the usual amenities and started to explain what he and Chelsea thought had really happened. Trevor had read both articles.

“I can file a lawsuit for libel against both papers. It’ll take time. And since you’re a public figure, there is no chance of winning in court. Moreover, I’m afraid it won’t do much to alleviate the rumors. I mean, she was there. The pictures are the proof. I know the publishers of both papers. I might be able to get them to print a retraction, something along those lines. But those pictures…Kidnapping, now, that’s going to bring in the FBI. You want to go that route or maybe just make a statement, take the heat, and wait for it all to blow over?”

“Chelsea mentioned something about a press conference. What’s your take on that?” asked Nick.

“Let’s not do anything just yet. Let me make some calls. I’ll let you know what, if anything, you’ll need to do. For now, my best advice is to lie low. Don’t answer your phone unless you recognize the number. Tell your staff if any of them decide to talk to the media, their jobs are history.”

“Thanks, Trevor. I won’t do anything until I hear from you.”

“Good.” Trevor promised to call as soon as he had something concrete.

Nick rehashed his conversation with the attorney for Chelsea’s benefit.

“Does this mean I shouldn’t make an appointment with Dr. Warner?” Chelsea asked.

“Yes. As I said, don’t do or say anything to anyone until Trevor gets a handle on all of this. The man’s been a damned good attorney for us and the company. He’s one of the few people I actually trust. As hard as it may be, Chelsea, you’re going to have to stay inside, curb your desire to shop, gossip, and whatever else you do with your time. Is that clear?”

Chelsea walked to the door, then turned around. “I want to say, ‘Crystal clear,’ but I’m not sure I can keep such a big promise.”

Chelsea walked to the kitchen to take a coffee tray with her out to the terrace. Settling herself in the chaise with a cup of steaming coffee, she tried to remember, all those years ago when she’d seen Nick at that stupid party, just what it was that had attracted her to him. Not his good looks. Not his charm. Just his family fortune. She had never been in love with him. She had been in love with his fortune and had tricked him into thinking that it was he who had made her pregnant. Once his father had forced him to marry her, and stay married to her, he had given her a life of luxury. And now she could see that life of luxury starting to crumble around her. She felt a wave of fear unlike anything she’d ever experienced. If something happened to destroy his fortune, what would become of her? God, she’d be just like all those women who thought all they could do was sell real estate. Her thoughts carried her back to that fraternity party nineteen years earlier.

Before she even had a chance to wipe the froth of beer from her upper lip, Nicholas Pemberton strode across the hardwood floor in her direction. Chelsea glanced at her younger friend, Caroline. “He’s coming over here!” she whispered. Her face turned a deep, dark shade of crimson.

“So?” Caroline stated, then took another drink of her beer. “Now’s your chance to meet him.”

Chelsea had to restrain herself from giving Caroline the finger, but it wasn’t the right time. Nervous, she licked her lips, tasting the slick cherry lip gloss. As she observed Nicholas Pemberton moving toward them, he stopped to speak to a gorgeous, tall blonde with legs as long as forever. He whispered something in her ear. They laughed. Sure she’d lost her chance to meet the man of her dreams, the man she felt sure she could trick into marriage, Chelsea felt her heart plummet. She just knew they were talking about her. It was obvious she didn’t belong there. She was about to tell Caroline it was time to go when Nicholas walked away from the leggy blonde, his eyes totally focused on Chelsea.

He was at least six-two, with oarsman’s shoulders, hair a deep shade of black, and whiskey-tinted eyes she could drown in. She almost fainted when he smiled at her. Her face flushed with happiness, and her heart rate quadrupled. She resisted the childish urge to pinch herself.

He walked up to her and held out his hand. “I’m Nicholas Pemberton, and you are?”

“Chelsea Wilson.” Her hand remained locked in his warm palm. Shivers shot up and down her spine.

“Well, Chelsea Wilson, what brings you to New York City?”

Thinking she would be tongue-tied, Chelsea surprised herself when she spoke. “I’m staying in Manhattan with a friend.” Perfectly normal. She could do this. Nothing to it. She was an adult, not a bumbling teenager. A wealthy man was her only chance to escape the humdrum life she’d been born into. A wealthy man was her ticket out of the mess she’d made of her life with that useless asshole who’d knocked her up. She’d best watch her p’s and q’s with this one.

Caroline perked up. “She’s staying with me.”

“And you must be her friend,” Nicholas said, extending his hand.

Caroline clasped his strong hand. “Caroline Whitaker. I’m a student at NYU. First year.”

He laughed. “I remember those days well. It’s not bad, really. If you can stand all the seniors trying to give you girls and guys a hard time, you’ll be just fine.” He turned his gaze to Chelsea. “So, why haven’t I seen you before now? Surely you’ve attended some of the more…uh…noted parties?” Nicholas asked Chelsea with a sexy smile.

Demurely, Chelsea lowered her gaze. “This will be my first.”

The three laughed.

“Caroline, is that you?” A female barely topping five feet, with long black hair and wire-rimmed glasses, came bounding up to her friend. “Remember me? I was in your English Lit class. I dropped out before the end of the semester.”

“Of course I remember you, Holly Jolly! How in the hell did you wind up here?” Caroline asked.

“Long story.”

“And she’ll be more than happy to tell you while I introduce Chelsea to some of the gang. Right?” Nicholas asked the small girl, but his eyes were on Chelsea.

The small girl glanced at Caroline for confirmation. “Sure,” she said, eyes asking a question.

“Come along, Holly,” said Caroline. “I think Nicholas wants to get to know Chelsea, who is staying with me for a while. I think we should disappear.”

Chelsea waved hi to the black-haired girl, all the while wondering just what Nicholas Pemberton had in mind. Thinking of the knockout drops she had brought with her, she took a small sip of beer while he poured a mug for himself. She did not want to lose her focus when so much depended upon what happened with Nicholas that night.

“Let’s find a place to talk.” He took her hand and led her into the main room. The party was in full swing. Chelsea observed the guests. Some were dressed to the nines; others wore jeans and T-shirts. Some of the girls wore long dresses, their hair reaching the back of their knees. Hippies. Chelsea smiled. She’d smoked her share of pot with a few in her day.

Nicholas found an empty corner, where he cleared a place for her to sit. She sat down on a brown leather chair while he cleared a space on the floor by their feet so they could set their mugs down.

“Not much room around here tonight,” Nicholas said.

“I thought you were going to introduce me to your friends.”

Nicholas laughed, revealing perfectly white teeth. “You believed that, huh?”

Chelsea wanted to come across as naive, so she lied. “Of course I believed you.”

Nicholas sat on the floor next to both mugs of beer. “When I saw you, I knew I had to meet you, pure and simple.” He smiled again. “Scout’s honor.”

If her heart rate climbed any higher, Chelsea knew her heart would explode right out of her chest. She searched the depths of her soul for a response, but nothing surfaced. She reached for her beer. He caught her hand. Waves of anticipation swept through her. For a second she was so nervous that she thought she might throw up, but the urge passed. Mortified at the thought of puking in front of Nicholas, she begged her unresponsive brain to come up with something to say. “How long have you lived here?”

He leaned against the wall, his caramel eyes gazing into hers. “Most of my life.”

Ashamed at her own stupidity, she laughed in spite of herself. “That was a dumb question.” She sounded normal, but she sure as hell didn’t feel normal. Chelsea had spent enough time around guys to know her reaction to Nicholas Pemberton was anything but normal. She could see a future with this man. Maybe even marriage, if she could make him think that he had seduced her and made her pregnant, but it had to be that night. She was running out of options fast. Who cared that she’d only known him for less than an hour?

Certainly jumping the gun,
she thought to herself.
Caroline will just love this. And I am not about to screw this up. No way. He can be my ticket to the good life.

“No, it wasn’t. I could’ve just moved here, for all you knew.”

The Carpenters’ “We’ve Only Just Begun” played in the background. She forced her cheeks to flame. Gawd! Corny, but she’d act the part. Innocent and charming, hanging on his every word, as though privileged just to be in his presence.

“Want to dance?” Nicholas asked.

Chelsea saw several couples dancing in the middle of the room. Arms wrapped around one another, heads on shoulders while footsteps moved to the rhythm of the music. Someone lowered the lights.

Nicholas took her by the hand and led her to the middle of the room, where the dancers were grouped closely in a circle.

She let Nicholas guide her to the makeshift dance floor. The song changed, and she would swear someone was reading her mind tonight. Olivia Newton John’s “I Honestly Love You” droned in the background.

When she finally allowed herself to relax and enjoy the music, she leaned against Nicholas’s chest, the top of her head fitting neatly beneath his chin. Effortlessly, he led her around the room. Chelsea closed her eyes, breathed in his scent. Beer and a musky soap. She wanted to burn the moment in her memory, because she didn’t think there would ever be another. This was just a party, she kept telling herself. He was just another guy. But, if she played her cards right, it could be the beginning of something big. Very big. And very rewarding.

They danced two dances; then the beat kicked up. Grand Funk’s “The Loco-Motion” blared from the speakers. Dozens of people grabbed their mates and began doing what the song instructed, making a chain and swinging their hips, then jumping up and back. It was a fun song, and Chelsea would’ve liked to dance, but Nicholas led her back to the corner.

“That’s a little too fast for me. What about you?” Nicholas asked once they were seated.

“It’s not that fast!” She laughed.

He grabbed her hand. “Then let’s do it!” He pulled her back to the center of the room, where they joined the train of people swinging, jumping, and getting into the song. Someone went to the turntable and set the record to play again. There were at least fifty people squeezed in the center of the room for the second go-round.

After jumping, swinging, and laughing, Chelsea, out of breath, was glad when the fast-moving song ended. “That’s a lot of work.” She fanned her face with her hands.

“It is, but fun. I can’t remember when I last danced.”

Chelsea took his words as a good sign. Maybe he didn’t have a girlfriend. Maybe the rumors she’d heard about his engagement to Cathryn Carlyle were simply that. Rumors.

“Then you need to go out more,” Chelsea offered.

They returned to their seats. “I should, but I’m preparing to work at my father’s company full-time. There just aren’t enough hours in the day. It doesn’t leave me much time for a social life.”

Chelsea wondered if this was his way of telling her he wasn’t engaged.

She watched his eyes, dark and smoldering, as he stared at her. “It’s too loud in here. Do you want to go somewhere quiet where we can talk?”

She looked at her watch. Going on midnight. Chelsea scanned the room in search of Caroline. She spied her across the room, in the corner, with the small girl and a guy she’d met earlier. She waved. Caroline saw her, motioned for her to come over.