Disclosure of the Heart (The Heart Series) (14 page)

Dear God.
That was a tougher question than anything I’d been hit with that morning on health care. My smile became firm. “No. There’s nothing to tell. We’re having dinner with friends. Have you told Felicity?”

“No, nor do I plan to.”

“Because?”

“That could unnecessarily cock up everything.”

“It could.” I checked my watch to hide my glee that Felicity was being kept in the dark about me. “I’m late,” I said as I looked up. “We can talk this weekend.”

He smiled. “Yes, we can.”

Chapter Eight

O
N
S
ATURDAY
N
IGHT
, I slowly slid the serrated knife through each tomato. I was too nervous to chop quickly. I’d probably slice off a finger, lose a ton of blood, and end up with an ambulance at our apartment building. Then there would be a whole lot of nosy neighbors, who all worked in or around the government, now curious why the BBC White House correspondent was at the deputy White House press secretary’s apartment.

As I diced the tomatoes, I heard Lisa welcome Adam and David into the apartment. I could make out bits of conversation. There was talk of the size of the apartment, and it sounded like David had brought her flowers.

When they walked into the kitchen, the flowers entered the room first. “What a beautiful bouquet,” I said and reached out to touch the giant arrangement.

“Not as pretty as the ladies tonight,” said David. He swooped down and gave me a peck on the cheek. “How are you, Nicki dear?”

“Great,” I said, sniffing his cologne. He smelled divine and looked even better. This would be a true test of Lisa’s will. I grinned at the thought. “Thanks for coming.”

Adam stood behind him, holding a bag of groceries. He appeared a little annoyed at David, but smiled at me. “Evening, Nicki. You do know you didn’t have to cook.”

“Oh, we just thought a salad might be nice,” I said cheerily.

He wore a starched shirt, jeans that hung just so on his hips, and casual loafers. He looked every bit the dashing Brit. With a wink, he asked, “Just in case dinner was crap?”

“Maybe…” I smiled. “No, I’m sure David is a great cook.”

“Let me show you what’s for dinner,” David said, taking the bag from Adam. He began displaying the contents on the worktop. “I’m making a traditional British meal—bangers and mash and spotted dick.”

Oh God.
I’d had spotted dick once in my life, served to me as a dessert by Adam’s dear mum. The memory had stuck with me—there she was, in her kitchen drying her hands and saying,
“It’s nice to see you again, Nicki. Maybe you want to sample some of the famous Kincaid spotted dick?”
I had been mortified because I’d had no idea what she was talking about. All I’d known was that my boyfriend’s mom had said something about a Kincaid dick with freckles.

Smirking at the recollection, I glanced at Adam, who held up his hands in surrender. “I’ve had nothing to do with the planning of this meal.”

“You’re a reporter.” I laughed. “You know ignorance isn’t a very good defense.”

Lisa chuckled as she examined the package of sausages and the can of spotted dick. “I detect a theme here.”

“That’s nice to hear, treacle,” David said, putting his arm around her. “I was worried you might not pick up on it.”

She snuck out from under his arm and handed him the bag of potatoes. “You should start peeling if we’re going to eat before midnight. I’ll get the water on.”

While David and Adam peeled potatoes, I finished the salad, and Lisa kept the conversation going. Her work at NIH was interesting, and both David and Adam peppered her with questions. After a while, David leaned over her shoulder and murmured, “Such a big brain in such a pretty little head. We could have beautiful children.”

“Yeah, right,” Lisa said, jabbing her elbow into his side. “Speaking of children, Nicki, you missed a call from Rachel while you were at the grocery store. She’s pregnant again.”

“Oh my God,” I said with a chuckle. “That will be three in five years. Congratulations to her, but wow. She’s going to have her hands full. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“It’s nice to hear she’s doing well,” said Adam. “What’s her husband like?”

“Local sportscaster,” I said. “He’s hilarious and dotes on Rachel. We like him.”

Lisa poked David in the side. “
You
remember Rachel,
don’t you?”

“Hmm. Maybe.” He smiled, shrugging it off. “Like I told you. Ancient history, love.”

Surprisingly, David’s dinner turned out just fine—except for the dessert. Lisa pushed her plate toward him. “I’m not very hungry any more. You can have mine.”

“You don’t like spotted dick from a tin?” David guffawed.

I took a bite and choked the nasty substance down my throat. “Um, Adam, I think I remember your mother’s being better.”

“My mum’s is much better,” he said as he poked the wet, spongy mass on his plate.

As we cleared the dishes, I wondered what might happen next. Earlier in the day when we’d discussed the evening, Lisa had suggested a movie. I offered Monopoly, thinking it was more platonic, but she never said yes or no, and I soon found out why. She barred Adam and me from entering the kitchen. “I can’t clean with everyone in here. Nicki, you and Adam go out on the balcony. It’s a nice night.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” I side-eyed her. This must’ve been a part of her plan to force me to address things with him. For that, I needed a drink. “Let’s get another glass of wine.”

When we stepped out onto the balcony, Adam sat down in one of the chairs while I walked to the railing. It was a warm April night, and the balcony was spacious with a beautiful view of the city. In the distance, you could see the Washington Monument rise through the black sky.

With Adam behind me and the darkness all around, I felt a little more confident.
What the hell,
I thought.
I might as well start from the beginning
. “I was sick the morning of that first press briefing, when we first saw each other again.”

“You were ill? I’m sorry.”

“Not that kind of sick. I was nauseated because I was nervous.”

“It was an important day—the start of a new Presidency.”

“It wasn’t just that, though it certainly was a big day. But I’ve had big days in the past. I don’t mind the spotlight.” I turned around and leaned against the railing, though I still didn’t look at him. “It was you. I couldn’t believe you were going to be there.”

“When did you hear?”

I slowly raised my head to see him warily studying me, as if he didn’t know where the conversation was headed. I crossed my arms. “Juan Carlos and I had just gotten back from our vacation in Paris when I heard you’d taken the White House correspondent job. I got nervous immediately. Then, as it sunk in that I’d be seeing you every day, I was…well, Juan Carlos said I’d become ‘distracted.’ That’s what he called it. I blamed it on my job.”

“Distracted?” He smiled. “I’d say I’ve been distracted myself.”

“I suppose it’s good to know I’m not the only one.” I snickered. “But that morning was bad.”

“You didn’t seem nervous at all.”

“Oh, of course not. Over the years, I’ve become pretty good at putting up a front.”

“I certainly can’t argue with that. I’d say you’re an expert.”

Ouch.
That was a dig, though I couldn’t deny it was true. “Yeah, well…Anyway, when you came up to me to talk that day, I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t know why you were there—what you wanted. It was a shock just seeing you, and I needed to focus on work. That’s why I walked away.”

“I doubt I would’ve had very many good answers to your questions. It wasn’t a rational move for me to have taken the job.”

That made me frown. I felt like I’d actually revealed a little about myself, but Adam gave me nothing in return. “They’re probably done cleaning,” I said bitterly. “Let’s go back inside.”

Adam jumped up at once and came toward me. “No, Nicki. Let me explain. I
was
happy to see you that day. I’d been curious about you for years. And you looked the same…exactly the same. Just as beautiful as ever, but now you were this brilliant adult woman. After seeing you that morning, I knew I’d done the right thing. It was nice just to be near you again.”

My hard heart softened to mush, and I smiled. “I felt the same way.”

He leaned against the railing, and after he looked down at me, I could swear a kiss was on the horizon.

But there was still too much to say. I turned my head. “It just made things worse, though.”

“Why?”

There I was with a brilliant reporter, and after months of going over the story of our lives, I’d buried the lead. It was time to bring it out into the open. “Juan Carlos has asked me to marry him.”

Deep creases formed in Adam’s brow, and his mouth opened and shut. I’d left him speechless and probably more irritated than sad.

“It was last year,” I explained, not wanting him to hate me. “We’d only been together a few months, but he’s a stereotypical Latin romantic. He said he knew from the beginning. Unfortunately, I was the opposite. I’m never sure about things like that. I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I told him I needed time.”

“What about living together? Are you still going to do that?”

“That was the compromise I made late last year. I mean…” I glanced back into the night as if the answers to my life’s dilemma existed out there. “I do love him. He’s a wonderful man, and he’s been very persistent. Any woman would be crazy not to be with him.”

“So why haven’t you found a place?”

“That’s Juan Carlos’s question.” I swallowed hard. “And he’s right to ask it. It’s been my fault. I could’ve picked an apartment—there are many, but I haven’t.”

“He’s going to live there, too. Why didn’t he find it?” He sneered. “I’d say you have the more important job by far.”

“Yeah, well…there may be a little machismo there,” I muttered. “I think the bigger issue is that the more I see you at work, the more distracted I’ve been with him.”

“I’ve had the same experience with Felicity.”

I didn’t like hearing her name, though what he said was a little heartening. I thought of the round of perfunctory sex I’d had with Juan Carlos the night before and sighed. “I don’t know what to do. Even if you’re waltzing back into my life just to waltz right back out again, the fact is, I don’t feel for Juan Carlos like I should.”

“I don’t really waltz,” Adam said in a sour voice.

“I’m sorry. You get what I mean, though, right?”

“Sort of. What do you mean ‘like you should’? How
should
you feel about Juan Carlos?”

Boy, he was just dragging this stuff out of me. Holding his gaze, I spoke from my heart. “Well, I’ve been with people…I’ve had relationships, but they’ve never felt like what we had together all those years ago. It could just be because we were so young and it was such an intense, short period of time, and maybe I’m romanticizing it. But I’d like it if some part of that feeling—that intensity—was there in a relationship with someone else.”

His head inched closer to mine as I finished my sentence, and soon his lips were near mine, whispering, “Nicki, you still feel right to me.”

I whimpered, not knowing what in the hell to do. “Oh God, no.” I whirled around from him, only to spin back to face him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…I don’t mean…”

He blinked repeatedly and sputtered, “I…uh…”

Adam Kincaid wasn’t used to being denied a kiss. I wanted to laugh, but it was more important to explain myself. “No, I need to finish. Please, I need to tell you more.”

“Right. Okay.” He calmly leaned against the rail and crossed his arms in anticipation. “It’s all right. I’m listening. So you and Juan Carlos—what’s your ‘status,’ so to speak?”

“We’re still seeing each other. He’s my date for the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. What about you and Felicity?”

“The same.” He arched a brow like he’d lobbed the ball back to me.

“I don’t want to do anything drastic, but I hate this hellish limbo.”

“Why are you in limbo? And why is it hellish?”

“Why?” I gasped in exasperation. “Why? Because
you’re
here! Because I’ve got a loving boyfriend I
was
thinking of marrying, and now that you’re here I don’t know what to think. I’ve got a job that I love, but if I were acting ethically, I wouldn’t be standing here with you right now. I can hardly resign, though, because I’ve no idea what’s going to happen with you. I don’t want to throw this all away just to relive some good times for a couple of months.”

Describing it aloud made the whole stupid mess seem like a joke. I smiled as I went over to the table and took a drink of wine before easing myself into a chair. “I could go to Logan tomorrow and say, ‘Mr. President, you’ve known me a long time. You know I wouldn’t do this lightly, but I’ve got a little problem. You’re busy fighting terrorism and fixing the American economy, but I need to be reassigned somewhere in the bowels of government so I can hook up with my high school boyfriend, Adam Kincaid of the BBC.’”