Calculated Risk (16 page)

Although he recognized his growing attraction to Cisney's genuineness, her affection for his family, her playfulness, and her good heart, did he really want to start something with her?

He could picture it. If he told her how nice she looked, she'd think he was interested and, say, she responded agreeably. Then he'd start calling her, and they'd date, and in the end, he'd take a job in Charlotte, and they'd be in a long-distance relationship exactly as he'd been in with Dana. Only the direction he drove would change. Experience told him that nothing could be dumber than repeating a disastrous scene with a different leading lady.

He drew his gaze back to the stage. The music and the dancing were good.

Cisney was mesmerized, her gaze following the waltzing couples. At least this evening, she could focus on something other than Jason.

Her hands were loosely folded over her little flat purse in her lap. Her fingers were long like Dana's, but stronger looking, as if they had the energy to play “Flight of the Bumblebee.” While they'd looked at the photo album, he'd noticed her nail polish was feminine and pretty, not brash like Nancy's.

LeCrone, eyes on the stage.

 

****

 

The musical's waltz tune whirled in Cisney's head while Nick inched the car from the crowded parking lot. The polka had been silly fun yesterday, but to waltz in the arms of a handsome man had to be one of Webster's definitions of romance. Funny, how the more she knew Nick, the more he fit the handsome man.

He looked over at her. “Want to go for ice cream?”

A dark suit and a flowing red dress begged for a dance floor, but the little town of Cornelius probably lacked a place to go dancing.

“Ice cream sounds good.”

Nick ushered her into the ice cream parlor minutes before closing. They sat in his car in the parking lot and worked on their treats.

Cisney savored her rich cappucino-blend. “Does Nancy live with your parents full time?”

“Yep.” He wrapped his napkin around his vanilla cone.

“Does she have a man in her life?” Nancy hadn't mentioned a love-interest during their shopping trip. She seemed to focus on her brother's love life. Well, in the LeCrone family, who didn't?

“She corresponds with a soldier in Afghanistan she met in the young adult Sunday school class a couple of weeks before he shipped out. They've been writing for about six months.”

“I hope things work out for them. I know she thinks a lot of her big brother.”

“You know that, huh?”

“Yes. And I hate to criticize you, but…”

He chuckled. “But you will, anyway.”

She turned in her seat to face him and tucked one foot under her. Time to draw one of those delightful laughs from him, one where his dimple deepened. “I was shocked to hear this about you, Nick.”

“Oh, I'm sure you were.” He licked his sugar cone in several spots, keeping ice cream from running down its sides.

Let him play indifference, but inside that head of his, he had to be wondering what Nancy revealed about him. How long could she drag out the suspense?

She planted her spoon in her frozen dessert and placed the cup on the dash. “I'm talking a serious flaw in your character, Nick.”

He cocked his eyebrow toward her. “You mean, that I wouldn't let her drive my car after she got her license?”

“Interesting.” She pronounced the word as if she were a lawyer responding to a hostile witness. “But no, that's not the act that has tainted your character.”

“Then spill it, before you bust a gasket.”

She tapped his arm. “Look at me, Nick.”

He shifted his brown eyes to gaze into hers. Her heart flipped.
Focus on the prize, girl.

She contrived a frown. “Why didn't you make one tray of oatmeal cookies without raisins for your dear little sister, before you put raisins into the rest of the cookie dough for your own self-pleasure?”

His laughter thrilled her. She had her prize. Relishing his dimple, she grinned and snatched her ice cream from the dash.

“I'll defend myself on that case.” He cleared the cone of drips with his napkin. “At first, I made oatmeal cookies without raisins. Each batch was for a week's worth of after-school snacks for Nancy and me. But too often I came home from high school to find Nancy and her junior high buddies had polished them off. So, to protect my snacks, I loaded the cookies with the one thing I knew she wouldn't touch. So you see, Miss Smarty-pants, her character flaw reaped her consequences.”

She laughed. He played a great straight man for these silly routines.

Cisney scooped up a spoonful of ice cream. “The music and the dancing were enchanting tonight.” Enchanting sounded corny, but didn't it go well with the idea of a charming prince and a tower princess? “Thank you for inviting me.”

“My pleasure.” He stopped working on his vanilla cone, and regarded her. “You look…beau-beautiful.”

Had Nick just stuttered? His voice sounded as if a vanilla bean had lodged in his vocal cords. Nick didn't stutter, and Nick didn't give personal compliments. Each pump of her heart stretched its lining to the limit. What was going on?

She dipped her head. “Thank you. You look handsome in the suit. Uh, your ice cream is dripping onto your hand.”

He wiped his hand with his napkin and licked the source of the trickle.

They worked on their frozen delights in silence.

She'd pay her whole fishbowl of pennies back home to know what was going on in his head. Well, asking cost nothing, right? “What are you thinking about?”

He popped the tail of his cone into his mouth and wiped his lips with his napkin. “I told you, my love life is off limits.”

“You were thinking about your love life?” Of course he was. His lunch date with Dana had to stir up old feelings. Her princess balloon deflated.

“No. I was thinking about how state workers install mile markers.”

She punched his arm. “Be serious. What were you really thinking about?”

“Will I have to ask you to get in line behind Mom to sign a privacy agreement?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I told you what I aspired to in my youth,” he said. “It's your turn. What did you always want to be?”

No way would she let him change the subject. “I wanted to be a princess who danced with the other handsome prince at Cinderella's ball.”

“You're serious?”

“No, but I'm seriously intrigued to know what goes on in an actuary's mind when he's not calculating risk.”

“Oh, but I was calculating risk. And I think it's significant.”

 

****

 

Nick held the car trash bag while Cisney stuffed her paper cup inside. She cocked her head, her dark hair falling away from her face and revealing a dangly gold earring. Her arched eyebrow confirmed she was waiting for him to expound on his love-life thoughts.

Somewhere between Richmond and Cornelius an alien had snatched his body. By the hour, it was taking over more and more of him. It spewed words he'd never allowed outside his skull. The creature, not Cisney, brought up his love life tonight. How could he blame her for latching onto the subject? The beast messed with his speech. Since when couldn't he get the word beautiful out of his mouth? Why had the word bumbled forth, anyway?

And now the alien ignored his resolve to avoid getting involved with Cisney. Between periods of feeling guilty through no fault of his own, he enjoyed every moment in her company.

He needed to regain control of his body. His mind. And his heart.

He fired up the engine. “If we leave now we can get in on the Chinese checkers tournament.”

Cisney turned her head toward the window, her heavy exhalation fogging the glass.

Let her huff. She'd thank him later for silencing the alien. She didn't need to know he was glad Dana had found a man she wanted to marry. That he'd learned one person with a penchant to plan out everything, like himself, was enough for one couple. And Cisney didn't need to know he was drawn to her, that she had awakened his lighter side, a refreshing experience.

Reason assured him he could appreciate Cisney's qualities without entangling himself. He had career decisions to make without complicating his life with Cisney Baldwin.

He turned into a curve, and the vehicle rode rougher and rougher.

Great. A flat tire.

 

****

 

The dashboard lights facilitated Cisney in observing Nick's face as he pulled off the road. If a flat tire had happened to Jason, he'd have blown several blood vessels, and her eardrums. How would Nick handle the frustration?

His hands resting on the steering wheel, Nick turned to her. “I guess we won't be playing Chinese checkers tonight.” Standing outside his open door, he removed his suit jacket, laid it over the back seat, and then reached in and turned on the flashers. “This won't take long.” He closed the door.

Trees lined both sides of the road. At least someone entering the curve would see their flashing lights.

Nick's reaction to the flat seemed to come from a man who had God's perspective on many things—except maybe on his family's fondness for her. And communicating information. But if she had to share a flat tire with someone, she'd want it to be with Nick.

She got out and walked around to the back of the car. Nick had rolled his white shirtsleeves up to his elbows.

“Stay inside where it's warm.” He extracted the spare from the trunk. The upright tire bounced an inch when it hit the pavement.

“You need me to hold the flashlight.”

“I can manage.”

“That's ridiculous. I'm not a helpless woman. I can hold a flashlight.”

“Then get my jacket and put it on.”

She grabbed his coat and returned, wrapping it around her shoulders and breathing in his scent. He handed her the flashlight, and she crouched beside him.

No matter what Daddy thought, Nick LeCrone looked like a man, emitted a masculine scent like a red-blooded male, and changed a tire like a member of a race car pit crew.

After installing the spare, Nick wiped his greasy hands on a rag from the trunk. She took one last stealthy sniff of his jacket's cologne-scented lapel. The coat would be too obvious to leave on “by accident” as she climbed stairs to her room. Pity. His jacket, wrapped around a princess in her tower room, would make a divine coverlet for blissful sleep. She slipped it from her shoulders and held it out to Nick.

Only a porch light and the window lamp in the front room lit the LeCrones' house. Nick's prediction that they'd miss the Chinese checkers tournament proved correct. They strolled up the sidewalk, and he let them in.

Her purse. She didn't have it.

“I think—I hope—I left my purse in your car,” she whispered.

“I'll get it.”

She followed him to the door. “It's a black clutch purse. It may have fallen between the seats.”

After she closed the door, she waltzed into the front room, blew a kiss toward the Steinway, and turned off the window lamp. The evening had been fairytale perfect, even with the flat tire. She hummed softly and waltzed around the room lit by a nightlight and the glow of the porch lights seeping through the front windows.
One-two-three. Sidestep the chair-two-three. One-two-three. Miss the love seat-two-three. One-two-Nick!

Nick's dark form stood in the wide doorway, only the white rims of his cuffs and his collar obvious in the dim light. He slipped her slim purse into his jacket pocket and raised his arms from his sides, one arm bent slightly. She stepped into his arms, her hand slipping into his warm grip. He pressed his other hand against her back, and then took a graceful stride forward, launching them into a slow waltz. A serenade played in her head while her red skirt billowed about her legs.

They glided between the front room and the foyer, her heart beat adjusting to the three-quarter rhythm.
One-two-three.
One-two-three.
Each time Nick's face aligned with the nightlight, its glow revealed his gaze on her. If this was a dream, may she never, ever, wake up.

They swirled into the foyer, and an upstairs door opened. Nick brought her to a stop, her back against the banister. They froze in the waltz embrace, his face inches from hers. The bathroom door closed.

Breathless, she looked into his shadowed face, her heart pounding.

He dipped his head closer to hers, his lips a paper-thin gap from hers.

She closed her eyes, her lips tingling.
Go ahead, Nick. Kiss me. You are the godly man I have waited for my whole life.

The toilet flushed. The bathroom door opened and a soft tread above led to the creaks of a door opening, and then closing.

They remained immobile.

His vanilla-scented breath tickled her lips. Was he waiting for her to close the gap? A gentle softness pressed her lips, lingered a delicious moment, and then moved away.

She opened her eyes.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“Oops,” he whispered back.

“Where did you learn to waltz like that?” Waltz? Didn't she mean kiss?

He drew his head back. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” If it would keep her in his embrace a little longer.

He spoke softly. “One summer, Mom couldn't pick Nancy and me up after our swim practices at the club, so she made us stay for ballroom dancing lessons. Probably the reason I wanted to raise Siberian huskies in Alaska.”

She bit her lip to stifle a giggle. He drew her away from the banister and spun her out. “I guess we'd better go up, huh?”

Was he calculating risk again? Oh, well, his kiss could keep sweet dreams dancing in her head all night.

From Nick's pocket, the marimba played.