A Love For Always (10 page)

“I’m not really offended,” Sylvie said. “It’s the truth.”

“Well, I’m offended for you.” Nate rested his hands on her shoulders, tugging her close. He stared into her eyes. “You’re Prudence Buchanan’s beautiful daughter and soon to be my girl.”

The spark that had been missing from her eyes returned as a smile curved her lips. “I like the sound of that.”

Nate couldn’t agree more.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Transferring the seedlings of the shiso plant to sturdier pots, Sylvie tamped down the soil around it. She stood up and winced when her knees protested and made note to actually workout some more. She probably should have accepted Nate’s offer for a run. Except, she’d never run more than a mile, and he was doing eight. No thanks. She’d decided to turn her attention to her container garden instead, which she’d hauled along with all her other stuff when Nate moved her in with him.
 

It was Saturday morning, four days after her unfortunate encounter with Hiroshi. Nate had sent Sam Harper—the same guy who found a couple of bugs at her restaurant—for bodyguard duty at Nana and Pru’s. Though she had not heard a peep out of Hiroshi since that day, and there was no specific threat, Nate thought it was still best to take precautions. She wasn’t going to argue. He was the security expert after all. Sylvie had talked briefly to her mom, explaining the situation and avoided long conversations with Nana. She would explain everything tomorrow when she and Nate drove to the farm. She’d administer the GDE shot and then come clean with her grandma.
 

They hadn’t taken their relationship a step further than friendship despite admitting she liked the idea of being his girl. She still slept in the guest bedroom and he still had not kissed her. Nate was obviously trying to give her space to get adjusted to the shift in their relationship. It could explain his early morning workouts. Her cheeks grew warm and it had nothing to do with her gardening.
 

The alarm system chimed followed by a slam of the door. Nate hadn’t been gone an hour. He couldn’t be back already. She stared down her front at her grimy clothes and sighed. So much for looking sexy. She swiped her arm over her brow and grimaced. Great, the sleeve of her work clothes was covered in dirt as well. Sylvie patted the loose dirt off and removed her shoes. The last thing she wanted was to track dirt all over Nate’s house. His housekeeper came in yesterday and Sylvie figured Nate would at least like his house to stay clean through the weekend.

She was about to slide the screen patio door sideways when it was shoved open.

A vision of blonde hair and tanned endless legs greeted her.
 

Sylvie couldn’t believe she was face to face with top model Giselle Forbes—Nate’s recent ex-girlfriend. Yes, despite trying to avoid news about Nate during their rift, him dating a world-renowned model made it impossible.
 

The blonde looked at her dismissively. “Where’s Nate?”

“Uh, he went for a run.”

“I’m Giselle, Nate’s girlfriend. Do you mind if I wait in the living room? Looks like you’ve already cleaned it,” Giselle said. “What happened to Mrs. Burns?”

Oh, my God. She thinks I’m the housekeeper.

It took a split second for Sylvie to decide whether to correct her or not. She decided to play along. Nana always said she never outgrew the imp in her. It didn’t help that she worked in a restaurant where the guys played pranks on the women and Sylvie always retaliated.

“Mrs. Burns wasn’t feeling well so I filled in for her today.”

“She’s supposed to come on Fridays. Saturdays, Nate and I want to relax in the house. Oh, well. It’s fine.” Giselle fanned herself. “It’s unusually hot in here. Did you stock the fridge with my diet coke? Mrs. Burns forgot last time.”

“I’m sorry, but it wasn’t on the list N . . . Mr. Reece gave me.”
 

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh.
 

Sylvie’s good humor nearly dissipated when she spied the woman’s suitcases just inside the door. Now, she was second-guessing whether lying about her identity was a bad idea.
 

The blonde wrinkled her nose. “You think you can make some diet iced tea? There’s still some of that stuff in the cupboard, right?”
 

Yes, there was. It tasted disgusting, and Sylvie nearly threw it away. She hated diet anything.
 

“Do you mind if I clean up first?” Sylvie asked. “I’d hate the iced tea to be earth-flavored.”

Giselle giggled. “Good idea. I’ll just hang in the kitchen.”

Sylvie escaped to the utility room. She should be jealous and insecure of Giselle, but truthfully, she wasn’t. Not really. Although she had not met Giselle before, a few minutes with the blonde established her in the same company as the string of women Nate had dated before. She had been jealous of only one woman in Nate’s life and that was Beatrice Porter. That woman was not only beautiful, she was smart and tough as nails. Beatrice worked in the same business as Nate and spoke his language. Nate’s friendship with Beatrice rivaled his friendship with Sylvie. If Nate had been romantically interested in Beatrice, Sylvie was sure her reaction wouldn’t be pretty.
 

Huffing irately, she took off her dirty shirt and jeans and washed her arms and face in the deep sink. Luckily, she just did a load of laundry this morning and some of her clothes were in the dryer. She quickly changed into shorts and a tee. Pulling out the clip that held her hair, she quickly re-twisted it into a neater knot. She may not be jealous of Giselle, but it didn’t mean she had to look like a non-entity beside her either.

Sylvie frowned when she saw Giselle coming down the stairs. The other woman’s smile froze when she saw Sylvie and her features immediately turned wary.
 

“Are you just filling in temporarily for Mrs. Burns?” Giselle asked, sitting down by the kitchen bar. Sylvie sighed and guessed she cleaned up nicely enough to be considered possible competition.

“Mrs. Burns is still Nate’s housekeeper.”

That wasn’t a lie.
 

She filled a pitcher from the filtered-water machine and proceeded to mix up Giselle’s iced tea.

“Look, I made a mistake breaking up with Nate,” Giselle said as Sylvie stirred the powder into the water with chopsticks. “I was just sidelined with an ankle injury, you know, and I think I’ve become too needy.”

Sylvie resigned herself to becoming the girlfriend whisperer once more. She’d been a shoulder to cry on for Nate’s past women before, but this time it felt extremely awkward because things had changed between them. “Nate’s line of work is not a nine to five kind of thing. He gets called away unexpectedly.”

Giselle’s eyes narrowed into slits.

Realizing her faux pas, Sylvie added, “Mrs. Burns told me about Mr. Reece’s job. You know, in case I couldn’t get a hold of him in an emergency if something’s wrong at the house.”

Seemingly satisfied with her explanation, the blonde continued, “I can deal with his long hours and his traveling, but he never talks about a future past a month. I mean, what’s the deal with that?”

“That depends . . .”

“Depends on what?”

“What kind of relationship you two agreed upon.”

Popping ice cubes into the pitcher, she poured a glass for Giselle and slid it to her.

“Thank you,” Giselle replied and took a sip of her drink. “He was clear about not seeking a long-term relationship. Also, his reputation isn’t exactly a secret, you know, but every girl hopes she’d be the one who could change his mind.”

Her heart pounded. Nate promised her more, promised Sylvie a future. How could she tell the other woman the truth about who she was to Nate without sounding like a gloating bitch? Damn Nathan Reece and his slutty ways. Sylvie opened the fridge and grabbed a soda. She flicked the tab and drew a long, hearty gulp. She’d give him a piece of her mind for subjecting her to this. Did every woman need to move in with him and have a key?
 

Harrumph
. Guess she was jealous after all.

“That’s bad for you.” The blonde’s voice broke through her conflicting thoughts.

“Huh?”

“That soda is a hundred and forty calories and thirty-five grams of sugar.”

Oh, for the love of God.

“I’m trying to put more weight in my boobs,” Sylvie quipped as she defiantly took another swig.

“Oh, honey, that’ll only go to your gut.” Giselle eyed her critically. “You’ve got great skin and a nice little ass. Too bad you’re too short to be a model.”

“Uh-huh,” Sylvie mumbled into the can. Tell her something she didn’t know.
 

“Um, so I guess Nate’s not seeing anyone else?” the other woman asked.
 

Sylvie froze.
 

“I don’t see any feminine products in his bathroom—” Giselle continued fishing.

She went snooping?

“Or clothes.” The model’s face crumpled. “Oh, God, what if he won’t take me back?”

This was getting really, really weird. Thankful for the counter space separating her from the other woman, she didn’t feel obligated to pat her on the back. Sylvie tried to look anywhere except the crying woman.

A knob rattled and the front door opened. Nate’s sweaty, delicious form darkened the entrance. His stupefied expression taking in the scene before him was comical, except the situation wasn’t.

“What the hell is going on?” his rough whisper carried from the foyer.

Giselle hopped off the barstool and rushed toward him, flinging herself into his arms. He backed up a step on impact, but instead of hugging her back, he clamped his hands on her shoulders and held her off.

“What’s the meaning of this? Why are you here, Giselle?”

Sylvie wasn’t going to watch this. She wasn’t running away either. Nate dug this mess himself, let him dig himself out.

His uncertain eyes met hers across the room. Sylvie smiled faintly and gestured toward the patio. She had her own thinking to do.

*****

What a clusterfuck.
 

Nate rubbed his brow as he watched Giselle’s car pull away. He was thankful Sylvie didn’t storm out of the house. He couldn’t even quite comprehend the scene he came home to. His ex-girlfriend appeared to be having a heart-to-heart chat with his current girl.
 

Correction. His forever girl. And he’d never been more anxious in his life as he twisted the knob of the door to re-enter his house to confront Sylvie. He had a bone to pick with her as well.

Nate had set Giselle straight once and for all. He told her he was serious about making it work with Sylvie. His ex looked at him as if he’d sprouted two heads and said, “But your maid said you weren’t seeing anyone?”

“My maid?”

“Maid, housekeeper, cleaner, whatever,” Giselle said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
 

At Nate’s continued baffled look, his ex clarified further, “That girl in your house. She said she was filling in for Mrs. Burns.”

“That girl,” Nate repeated, seeing Giselle in another less than flattering light. “Do you even know her name?”

Giselle shrugged, still unconcerned. “So who’s Sylvie? I can’t believe you moved on so quickly.”

If Nate hadn’t seen the error of his ways before, he was seeing it very clearly now. Beatrice was right. He kept on picking selfish, self-absorbed women so there was no chance in hell of falling in love with them.
 

“That girl,” Nate said through gritted teeth, “is Sylvie. She’s not my housekeeper. That
girl
in there whom you deemed unworthy to even know her name is the woman who owns me”—his nostrils flared—“in every way.”

“Her?” Giselle backed away from him, her face twisting in an ugly sneer. “HER? She’s cute. I’ll give her that, but you’re throwing me over for her? Do you know how insulting that is?”

Nate knew if he didn’t end this conversation now, he’d end up becoming a bigger asshole than he already was.
Christ
. He subjected Sylvie to that scene, and he hoped he didn’t derail any progress he’d made with her. “Yes. Her. Sylvie is my woman, so you and I? Not happening ever again.”

His ex didn’t waste any time getting out of there, but if she had any doubt that Nate was done with her, his last words to her before she got into the car made it clear.
 

“I want my key back, Giselle. You’re never to show up at my house ever again. We’re fucking over.”

Leaving the distaste of Giselle behind, Nate crossed the threshold of his house and stared at the patio doors leading to the backyard. In a way, this was a blessing; a perfect opportunity to face what was between him and Sylvie.
 

Denials were over for both of them.

*****

Sylvie was reclining on the lounge chair, still sipping her coke, when she heard the sliding door roll on its tracks.
Huh?
That didn’t take long. She didn’t really hear the conversation, but Giselle’s shrill voice dominated the encounter. She’d credit Nate for not even raising his voice. He’d spoken in a low calm timbre.

“Sorry about that,” Nate said, sitting on the lounge across from her.

“You know that wouldn’t have happened if you would think with the right head once in a while.”

“Sylvie—”

“I told you, Nate,” Sylvie cast him a sideway glance. “I told you years ago after several of your girlfriends came to me crying that you have to stop serial dating. Sure it sounds more palatable than one-night stands, but let’s face it, there’s a higher degree of attachment, regardless of taking commitment off the table.”

“I’m doing the right thing now,” he stated quietly.

“Are you?”

Nate cursed, stood up, and sat on her chair, his hand landing on her bare leg. It was like a brand searing her flesh, sending a jolt straight to her core. Damn this man. He was sex on a stick. Could she blame women for going ga-ga over him? Could she blame Nate for taking what was blatantly offered?

“It’s not that I dated women to whom I can’t commit.” Unease made her look away, but he grasped her chin, turned it gently so her eyes were level with his. “I dated women who were too self-absorbed to care that I couldn’t give them my heart.”