Strictly Business (14 page)

“She should ask the Mercer twins about us being innocent,” Roger said, grinning.

Duane nodded. “What bet?”

Both of them turned to Nick.

“Jess and I have several agreements,” Nick said. “Which one would you like to know about?”

“Nick!” Jess exclaimed, the warning clear in her voice.

Nick crossed his arms over his chest and merely raised his eyebrows at Duane and Roger.

“Ahh,” said Roger.

“Just as we thought,” said Duane.

Nick smiled at them.

As far as he was concerned, he too had several warnings to give, and the best way to do so was to reveal his personal interest in Jess. His own men had obviously received the message that Jess was ‘Hands Off.’ He’d noticed the way they kept their distance. Her employees were a little bit different.
He just wanted to make sure they understood. It seemed they did, and were pleased by it.

“I’m going in to see how Sandy’s doing,” Nick said. “Join me, Jess?”

She glared at him as she rose to her feet. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

When they were out of earshot, she asked, “What was that all about back there?”

“Nothing,” Nick said innocently.

“My eye,” she replied.

He resisted the urge to put his arm around her. While it was fine to show a personal interest in front of the men, it was not fine to have it look as if the two of them were ready to disappear for a couple of very private hours. Ground rules were essential. Men gossiped as much as women. They just didn’t like to admit it.

“Nick, I’m not an idiot,” Jess said. “I can take a pretty good guess at what you were doing, and I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Why?” he asked. “Are you ashamed?”

“That remark doesn’t deserve an answer.”

She stalked ahead of him. Nick swore under his breath and caught up with her just as she opened the door to the farmhouse.

“I’ve got some insecurities of my own,” he said, smiling wryly, “and they came out with Duane and Roger.”

Jess smiled back sheepishly. “Lord knows, I’ve got mine.”

“They’re not nearly as bad as you think.”

“They’re probably worse than I think.” She glanced back out the open door. “I forgot to tell the guys something. You go on in.”

He nodded, then laid his hand on her arm. “Jess, we’re really making a home here.”

An odd expression marred her delicate features. “I know.”

She walked away, leaving him bewildered. And it wasn’t the first time, he thought. She’d had these odd moments, ever since he’d made dinner for them last week. She wasn’t cold or withdrawn. He couldn’t quite define what the mood was; he was only aware of a subtle change in her every so often. That was the problem with being a man, he thought. Men didn’t understand subtlety.

He’d managed to keep his promise that night, and all the nights after. Somehow. It was all he could do sometimes not to touch her. He didn’t dare think about it in her presence. When this was over, he was going to demand a medal. He certainly deserved one.

Still, something was happening with her, and he wished he knew what it was.

“What do you think of the foyer?”

Nick glanced up to find Sandy walking toward him, her hands outstretched. He looked around and instantly spotted the pictures hanging from the walls.

He walked slowly along the plastic-covered floor, smiling more broadly with each picture. Interspersed with formal portraits were whimsical pastorals, all somehow blending together to give a feel of real people actually living in the house.

“Sandy, you’re a genius,” he said.

“Not me. Jess picked them. I’m the gofer, remember.”

Although he had known Jess would do a terrific
job decorating, he hadn’t known exactly what the final result would be. Now, seeing the interior begin to take shape, he couldn’t help grinning like a little kid.

“You look very pleased,” Sandy said with satisfaction.

“I am. Extremely.”

“Good. I’m entitled to pump then. What’s going on with you and Jess?” she asked point-blank. “I can’t get a straight answer out of her.”

Nick stared at Sandy for a long moment. He’d thought Jess would have confided something to her best friend.

“I don’t like it,” he answered finally.

“Like what?”

“That she’s not telling you anything.”

Sandy smiled. “Then there’s something to tell.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Has she seemed … moody to you?”

“Not moody.” Sandy’s brows drew together as she mulled over the question. “More off in space. Why?”

“Never mind,” Nick said, hearing the latch on the front door click open.

As Jess entered the foyer, Nick gazed at her in pleasure. It was amazing what cement-streaked jeans and a sweatshirt could do to the libido, he thought. Especially when they encased Jess’s body. Maybe it was the way the loose sweatshirt hinted at the curves of her full breasts. Her jeans fit her enticing thighs perfectly. His hands had traveled their satiny length until …

“So what do you think?” Jess asked.

“Beautiful,” he said absently, staring at where the
jeans met at the top of her thighs. The room suddenly seemed twenty degrees hotter.

Jess smiled at him. He smiled back.

“Shall I leave?” Sandy asked.

Nick drew in a deep breath, knowing the minute of pleasure he’d allowed himself was over.

“Stay,” he said, admitting silently that Sandy’s presence wouldn’t make a difference. He was held by his promise. For a little longer. “I never did ask you, but how’s Marty?”

“Yes,” Jess said. Her cheeks were as warm as he felt. “How is Marty?”

“How’s Marty!” Sandy exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “You two tease and taunt me with what-ever’s going on between you, and then you have the nerve to ask how Marty is?”

“Right,” Nick agreed, chuckling at Sandy’s indignation. “How’s Marty?”

“I give up. Marty is fine, considering that he’s going crazy at the moment.”

“Why?” Jess asked. “What’s wrong?”

“The stock market. Haven’t you heard?”

Nick shook his head as Jess said, “No.”

“Stocks are dropping like a dive-bombing jet. Marty called me to cancel our lunch date. His clients are in a panic.”

“But it’s made wild day-to-day swings before,” Jess said.

“Not like this, Marty says.” Sandy grinned. “Good thing you and I have blue-chip trust funds.”

Jess nodded.

Nick said nothing.

“Now that I’ve been the only forthright person in
the room, can we go in and decide on the living room motif?”

Nick didn’t join them as they began to walk into the other room. Jess turned around, a puzzled expression on her face.

“Nick?”

“I have to make a call,” he said, and headed for the office trailer.

Sandy’s comment “Not like this” had caught his complete attention. While he had very little in stocks, he knew his MeadowHill investors did.

A short while later, he hung up the phone. Marty had sounded frazzled, but he told him nobody could figure out why it was happening. It seemed to be only panic selling, and the experts Marty had spoken with were positive the situation was temporary and the effects would be marginal.

So far.

Jess set her napkin on the table and said, “Nick, I know I cooked it, but it can’t be that bad.”

He stopped pushing his broccoli around his plate and smiled at her. “Dinner is delicious. My stomach’s in shock.”

She chuckled dryly. “And if I believe that one, then you’ve got a bridge to sell me, right?”

He grinned.

“Something’s been bothering you all day,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

He set his fork down. “Nothing. Just a little tired. I’ve been pushing it lately.”

“Grant’s Tomb must be up for sale too.” She
couldn’t stop the sarcasm from creeping into her voice.

Nick raised his brows. “Jess, I just said I’m tired tonight. I am tired, okay? Think of it as great leftovers for Cat.”

“Right.” She rose and picked up her plate. “If you’re tired, then dinner’s over. Time to go.”

“I may be tired, but you are obviously cranky.”

“Cranky is for three-year-olds, Nick. I’m angry.”

“Angry! What for?”

“Nothing, okay?” She grabbed his plate with her free hand and headed for the kitchen.

He came after her and snatched his plate back. Picking up the fork, he began to eat and talk at the same time. “I’m eating, Jess. See? I just needed something to spur my appetite.”

“That still doesn’t explain what you’re brooding about.”

He sighed. “Jess,
you’ve
been brooding all week.”

“I—” She stopped herself, knowing her protest would be as false as his had been. She had been brooding and tense and more than ready for an argument. Even if she had to start it herself.

“You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine,” he suggested.

She smiled reluctantly and shook her head. She wasn’t ready to tell Nick she was in love with him. She was having a hard enough time accepting it herself.

“Okay,” he said. “We keep our secrets until we’re ready to talk about them.”

He looked a little too relieved, but she had no right to object.

“Finish your dinner, and I’ll clean up,” she said.

“I’ll clean up later.”

She laughed. “Nick, that’s the best line since ‘The check is in the mail.’ Bring in your plate when you’re done.”

She left him staring in astonishment. In the kitchen, though, her amusement faded. Nick was right, she thought as she readied the dishes for the dishwasher. She was cranky. And she knew why. One moment he would look at her with hunger in his eyes, and the next it would shut off, replaced by only friendly interest. She had nearly flung herself into his arms when it had happened today in the model house.

She glanced across the counter into the other room. Nick was clearing off the rest of the table. She watched as the muscles of his back stretched and knotted under his khaki shirt. It was always like this, she thought. She only had to look at him, and desire would swirl thickly through her body. The temptation to touch him would be irresistible.

And she would do nothing.

It was her own fault, she admitted. She had asked for control of their relationship, and she’d received it. Most women would be thrilled. Most women didn’t have her problem, though. She was beginning to wonder if she needed a real burst of machismo from him to get her over it. A little seduction to absolve her of responsibility for her actions. It was silly, she thought, but his promise was making her crazy.

During her sleepless nights, she had the overwhelming urge to trust in her hope. She was so happy … and so confused. She’d never expected to
fall in love, and she wasn’t sure what to do. Or what she would do. The idea of it occupied her mind continually, as she tried to second-guess herself before anything disastrous happened. Probably the worst manifestation of her problem had been her crying jag after their lovemaking. But she was terrified she’d cry again, and that was holding her back.

Nick walked into the kitchen and set the dishes down on the counter.

“A clean plate,” he said. “Are you happy?”

She grinned. “Ecstatic. There’s hope for me yet.”

He chuckled, then glanced into the other room. “Since you insist on cleaning up, mind if I catch the news?”

“No.” Her grin broadened. “Go be a chauvinist and leave the little woman with the dishes.”

“Witty, Jess.”

“You’ll catch on to it eventually, poor thing.”

He left the kitchen, and after cleaning up, she joined him. She deliberately snuggled next to him on the sofa. He looked at her in surprise before putting his arm around her.

“We could easily turn into old fogies,” he said, amusement rumbling in his chest.

“A little peace and quiet never hurt anybody.”

She began to trail her forefinger across the width of his chest. Her finger lingered, as if tempted, on a closed button of his shirt.

“Why do I have the feeling there’s a lot the old fogies aren’t telling?” Nick asked the room. “What are you doing, Jess?”

“Snuggling,” she murmured. “I think I’ve got the hang of it.”

“I know you have.”

He set her hand aside. Slowly it drifted back to toy with his button again.

He picked up her hand and placed it firmly on her thigh. Her hand crept back, this time lower, at his belt.

“That’s it!” he exclaimed, holding her wayward hand down on her thigh with his own.

“What?” she asked innocently. She couldn’t quite keep the laughter from her voice.

“You know what. Behave yourself.”

“You mean my hand? But, Nick, I was just resting it on your stomach.”

“Well, now you can rest it on your thigh.”

She yanked her hand out from under his. Unprepared for her sudden maneuver, he snatched at her hand. Laughing, she ducked and dodged her hand through the air, managing to get little touches in as she kept it out of his reach.

She got one little touch too many, and he finally grabbed her, his strong fingers tight around hers.

“Ouch!”

“Now will you behave?”

Her mirth subsided, and she gazed into his dark eyes. In the silence, she watched desire glitter in them.

“No.”

His mouth was only inches away, and she closed the space between them, brushing her mouth lightly against his.

A bare taste, then another.

She applied more pressure.

Her tongue feathered across his bottom lip.

Nick shuddered violently and pulled her into a tight embrace. His mouth moved hungrily against hers. Their tongues mated urgently in, fierce, rising need. Her hands swept up and around his neck, clutching with the force of the storm running through her. Faintly, through the rushing in her ears, she could hear the television playing to an uncaring audience. The scent of him beleaguered her senses, the taste of him filled her with hunger for more.

She didn’t care that she was testing his limits. She wanted to, needed to. She had to know he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. And if he broke his promise—

Suddenly and unbelievably, he pushed her away. He did it very gently, but the pain couldn’t have been greater if he’d slapped her.

In the tense silence, they both gasped for breath. He rose from the sofa and she watched numbly as he got his jacket.