Falling For Nick (7 page)

He ran a hand through his hair. "I want my life back. I want to know my son."

"Why now?" Clea pressed her hand against her stomach to quiet the nerves jumping there. "You've been out of prison for three months."

"I should have come back right away. I made a mistake," Nick said, frowning. "It's hard being on the outside. Harder than I imagined. I couldn't come right back. I had to adjust, to figure things out. This world is completely different from the world I knew ten years ago. I know you can't possibly understand what I'm talking about. Transitioning is tough."

The wounded look in his eyes seared her soul. What had he endured in prison? She'd lain awake nights, imagining the atrocities he must have lived through. How had he survived?

"It's too late now," she said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. "I have a different life. I had to move forward. I'm getting married."

"I've missed ten years, Princess," Nick said. "Give me a chance to catch up. That's all I'm asking."

"No." Clea backed away from him. "I can't."

He stepped toward her. "I want the chance to know John, but I want what's best for him. Does he know I'm here?"

"Not yet," she admitted. "He knows you're his father, but you're an abstract father, one he knows about, yet doesn't know at all." She wanted to add how mixed-up she felt, too, but bit back the words. Nick closed his eyes for a moment, and she could see the pain on his face, feel it. "I didn't tell him you were released from prison. I didn't want him to get his hopes up. I'm not sure what he feels for you."

"I'm sorry for all of this, and even sorry for what I'm about to say." He glanced away from her, then back. "I can't let you marry Boomer."

Any sympathy she felt for Nick dissolved in a poof, anger taking its place. Without thinking, she slapped him.

Nick's head jerked to the side. Their eyes locked together in battle.

"Is that what this visit is about?" Her voice rose to meet her temper. Nothing had changed. Nick still had no interest in his son, but he had every interest in controlling her. Her first instincts had been right. Her guilt over the No Contact Order had turned her into a fool. She should have left him in the jail.

"I guess I deserved that."

"I've waited to do that for ten years." Her hand stung, but she didn't care. It felt good. "John isn't an inconvenience, or a mistake. He's a boy. He's your son whether you like it or not. If you don't want to be a part of his life, that's fine with me; in fact, it's what I want. Leave us alone. Get out of Port Bliss." She stepped forward and rammed her index finger into his chest. "Don't ever tell me who I can and can't marry. It's none of your business."

His hand closed firmly around hers, holding her fingers prisoner against his chest. His heart beat under her palm.

"It is my business when the guy is Boomer Bloomfield." Nick rubbed his chin with his free hand. "You're right. I've made a mess out of things. I never wanted it to be this way between us. I'm not saying things right." Confusion filled his eyes.

Clea jerked her hand free, refusing to give him one ounce of compassion. "Well, it's too late. Things are messy between us, Nick."

"Why'd you drop the No Contact Order, Clea? I can understand why you served me with the papers, but I can't understand why you dropped the charges."

He watched her intently. Suddenly uncomfortable, she looked away from him. "It seemed like the right thing to do. I never wanted to do it in the first place, but you scared me. You've been away a long time. I didn't know what to think. My instincts tell me to protect John. I don't want to see him hurt."

"I'd never hurt him," Nick said softly. "And I'm sorry I hurt you."

For ten years she'd waited for his apology, but it didn't ease the ache in her heart the way she'd hoped. Old hurts throbbed within her and a single apology couldn't make them disappear. "Are you sorry, Nick?" She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice.

"You'll never know how much."

Clea looked into his eyes, eyes filled with pain. In all the years they'd been apart she'd never imagined that he regretted his words to her in the jail ten years ago. Did he?

"Don't marry him, Clea." He reached for her hand.

Clea stepped back, avoiding his touch. "Of course I'm going to marry Robert. What is it with you, Nick? You don't want us, but you don't want Robert to have us either? You just can't stand to see me happy."

"That's not true," he said quietly. "I've seen you happy, remember?"

Clea flashed back to the year she'd spent with him. She'd been blissfully happy and so in love. "Stop it. I won't let you do it to me again."

"Do what?"

"I don't want to remember. I can't." She wanted to run from him, but her feet wouldn't budge. He had some kind of hold over her she couldn't break. A part of her wanted to give in to him, to his smooth words, but she knew better. She needed to remember the lies he'd told her before. The memory of those lies helped her to break free. "Please go."

"I don't want to fight with you. That's the last thing I want to do," he said sincerely. "I'll leave, but before I go tell me about my son."

Her emotions warred. She wanted to tell him everything, every precious detail he'd missed, every detail she'd longed to share with her child's father. She wanted to tell him to go to hell. He didn't deserve any answers.

"What's he like?" Nick asked. "I'm just asking. Give me something I can hold onto, Princess."

The anguish in his voice tore at her, broke down her shell of defense. If only for this moment, she wanted him to understand what he'd missed. "He's wonderful," she said. "He's a nice boy. He's always made good grades, until this last report card. Recently, something's changed in him. He's angry and sad, and I don't know how to help him. Robert seems to be the only one he'll respond to anymore."

His jaw tightened. "Son of a bitch. Is there any way that John could have learned about my release?"

"I didn't tell him," Clea said. She suspected John was upset about the move to New York, but she didn't want to tell Nick about the upcoming move, not yet. "I suppose he could have found out, but I'm sure he would have come to me with questions."

"I hope you're right."

Was it her imagination; or was his voice a little hoarse with emotion? "Do you want visitation rights?" She paused, unsure of what she wanted his answer to be.

"Would you give them to me if I asked?"

"No. I don't know." She pressed her fingers to her temples. Robert would kill her if she allowed Nick anywhere near John. "I'm not sure what to tell John now. If you're here to stay, I have to tell him something."

Nick walked to the top of the stairs and stared down at the street below. "I know you don't think I have any right to John, and maybe I don't. God knows I don't know anything about being a father, but I don't want John to think that I didn't want him. I did want him Clea, and I still do."

Clea's thoughts spun at the implication of his words. "It's not that simple. You can't just change your mind. He doesn't know you. He thinks of Robert as his father. They love each other."

"Boomer is not John's father." Nick whirled to face her. "Boomer didn't make love to you that night. I did."

Clea wanted to close her eyes against the memory of Nick touching her, kissing her. Ten years later she could still remember the way he tasted, the way his skin felt under her fingers. She forced the images from her mind and met his stare head on, but the hunger she saw in his eyes made her turn away. "Are you staying in Port Bliss?" she asked.

"Yes. I took my old job back at the garage."

Clea exhaled, not realizing she'd been holding her breath. "If you want to get to know John, it has to be on my terms. I'm warning you, it's not going to be easy. John's already going through a lot of changes."

"Life is never easy."

She faced him again. "I suppose not."

A long moment of silence passed between them and Clea used the time to study Nick. Hair as black as a raven's wing brushed the collar of his winter jacket, not his leather jacket, but a forest green Eddie Bauer type coat, a more grown-up type jacket. She could still remember what the silken strands of his hair felt like in her hands. His blue eyes appeared dark, masking his thoughts from her. Unable to help herself, she observed his mouth. His lips were strong, not too full, with a masculine curve to his upper lip.

Clea leaned toward him, wanting his kiss, but caught herself, her insides clenching to an almost physical ache. She'd never been as attracted to anyone. There was something about him that turned up the heat on every emotion she possessed, be it anger or desire or fear. Could she share her child with him while keeping her own conflicting emotions under control? He didn't play by the rules; he never had. Would he now? Could she trust him with John's tender heart? The thought terrified her more than anything ever had. This wasn't just about her and Nick. John's feelings had to come first.

"It's cold," she said, breaking the silence. "I'm going inside. I need time to think. John has school tomorrow. I'll tell him about you when he gets home."

He took a step toward her. The clean scent of his soap teased her nose. She tried to back away, but came up against the doorjamb.

"Remember, Clea," he whispered, his breath warm on her forehead. "Remember that summer. I know it didn't end the way either of us wanted it to. I was too young and stupid to know what really mattered. I'm older now, and for the first time in a long time I know what I want. This time, I'm going to fight for John, and for you. I want both of you."

Clea's heart raced. Her thoughts scattered. Nick turned away and started down the stairs. Clea fumbled for the knob, pushing the door open. Once inside she leaned her back against the wood. Nick Lombard was dangerous. He wasn't the kind of man a woman married. He didn't have a penny to his name. He had a criminal record. He could offer her nothing but a physical attraction that left her reeling. She couldn't allow Nick to sway her from the course she'd set for her life. She'd trusted him once with disastrous results.

Robert was the best choice for her, the only choice. Her career, her future, awaited her in New York. She wouldn't give up her dreams for Nick, not this time. It was up to her to make sure Nick understood that. She didn't want him to fight for them. It was too late.

*   *   *

Nick let himself into his apartment and walked straight to the fridge. Reaching inside, he extracted a beer, twisted the cap off, and took a long swig.

He'd gone to Clea's place ready to tell her every reason she shouldn't marry Boomer, and instead had wound up remembering every reason he wanted her himself. Tonight he'd been honest with her. If only he'd been as honest ten years ago things might be different now.

He took another swallow of his beer.

He'd committed to Clea and his son. The thought scared the hell out of him. He didn't know the first thing about commitment, and he knew even less about children. Yet, he'd never been one to back away from a challenge. Winning Clea back would be the biggest challenge he'd ever faced. She didn't trust him, and with good reason. He'd lied to her ten years ago. He could offer her nothing - yet. He'd been in prison for manslaughter. She was engaged to a man who could offer her everything, a man the world thought was "respectable."

The thought burned a hole in his gut.

If he wanted to stop the wedding he needed to set his own plans into motion. Tomorrow morning he'd start his job. He'd work hard, because he had something to work hard for. The time had come for him to provide for his family, and he wanted to rise to the challenge. He wanted to be someone Clea could depend on. If he could win her trust, the rest would follow.

It wouldn't be easy.