Heart Of Gold (20 page)

Buddy
blinked in confusion and glanced over at Carter. “Do you know what he's
talking about?”

“I
wouldn't know where to start,” she said, throwing up her hands in defeat.

Buddy
looked back at Nick. “You think she ... and I...”

He
started to laugh. It was a happy sound, completely at odds with the stress in
the air. Buddy put a hand on Nick's shoulder.

“I
knew it,” he said when he paused for breath. “I knew it all
along.”

“Let's
just leave this,” Carter begged. “Forget all about—”

“I
knew you were attracted to her.”

Nick
frowned at the smile shining up at him.

“Listen,”
Buddy said in a light, relieved tone, “Carter's the most wonderful woman I
have ever met, apart from my wife. But I can swear on the life of my child that
I have never, ever been unfaithful to Jo-Jo in thought or deed. Partially
because she's got a lab full of dangerous chemicals in our basement, but mostly
because I love her with all my heart. Not that it's any of your business.”

Carter
saw that Nick was watching the man carefully, weighing his words.

Still
smiling, Buddy ambled over to the kitchen area and put away the utensils he'd
washed. “Take it from someone who was lucky enough to find the love of his
life and luckier still to have had the courage to do something about it. Time's
passing and you should be spending less time glaring at me and more time alone
with her.”

With
something perilously close to a chuckle, Buddy gave them a cheerful wave and
left.

In his
wake, they were silent for a time. Even though her friend had left in a good
mood, Carter felt as if the friction had increased in his absence.

“Your
Buddy's quite the philosopher,” Nick said, eventually. “I suppose I
owe him an apology.”

“He's
a pretty forgiving sort.” Nervous, she began to babble. “I once
dropped a sledgehammer on his foot and broke it in three places. His foot, of
course, not the hammer. He got over it although he still gives me a wide circle
when I carry heavy tools...”

Abruptly,
Carter clamped her mouth shut before more inane words tumbled out. She was
trapped between wanting to run away from him and wanting to make plans for a
good long sail over the water.

She heard
him approach. When she looked up, she saw his pale eyes were no longer remote.
They were burning.

“I
guess I owe you an apology as well,” Nick said, his voice a low rumble.

A shiver
of anticipation went through her.

He
reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Since I've met you, I
think I've apologized to you more than I have any other woman.”

“If
you're warming up to another one, it's only been twice.”

“As
I said ...” His fingertips brushed over her cheek, down to her jaw. “I’m
sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion about you and Buddy.”

“We've
never been more than good friends.”

“I
can see that now. I'm just not used to women like you.”

Her voice
dropped to a whisper. “What kind of a woman am I?”

His eyes
scanned over her face and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“Clueless.”

She
frowned. “Thanks. Remind me not to come here for compliments when I have
body image problems.”

Nick
laughed and then grew somber.

“I
don't think you have any idea how beautiful you are.” His voice was
hypnotic, a blend of rasp and purr that was making her temporarily forget her
doubts about him. “And you've been keeping me up at night, wondering
whether I remembered it right.”

“Remembered
what?” she croaked.

“That
your lips taste like sweet melon.”

Carter's
heart leapt to her throat. He was going to kiss her. She knew it. Wanted it.

He
stepped in closer.

“You're
one hell of a woman.” Nick reached his hand underneath the weight of her
hair and stroked her neck. “But you're a rotten eavesdropper.”

Carter
flushed as the apology she'd been waiting to offer came out.

“I'm
sorry about that,” she mumbled. “I got lost trying to find my way out
of your house and I didn't mean to intrude. I—”

“Did
you enjoy hearing that Candace was leaving because of you?”

At the
sound of the other woman's name, Carter pulled back sharply. With a few
faltering steps, she took refuge behind the table and began picking up napkins.

“What's
wrong?” he asked.

“I
remember other parts of the conversation more vividly.”

“Really?”
His voice changed back to the laconic drawl she was used to hearing. She
watched as the heat in his eyes dimmed and his cool remoteness returned.

While he
waited for her to explain, she wondered how honest she should be. Did she want
to admit she was scared of getting hurt? She didn't think so. She was already
feeling vulnerable.

Then Nick
spoke before she did. “I'm no angel, Carter, and I've never pretended to
be one. But don't condemn me because I'm honest. There are no guarantees in any
relationship. I believe in stating that up front and getting out when things
aren't working. It's better than living in a fantasy.”

“But
what about the women?”

“What
about them?”

“They
get hurt.” I'd get hurt, she thought to herself.

“They
know what they're getting into. Believe me, they're tough enough to handle
it.” His voice was jaded.

Feeling
way out of her league, Carter looked down at the napkins she'd wadded up in her
hands. “Are you still planning to ask me out for that sail?”

“Yes,
I am.”

“And
what do you think we'll do when we're alone?”

“Eat,
drink, swim. Enjoy the day.” When she glanced up at his pause, he
finished, “Make love.”

Her heart
began jumping around in her chest. It was what she wanted to hear but it also
frightened her.

She took
a deep breath. “And, in your spirit of honesty, would you like to tell me
where all that is going to take us?”

The frown
that appeared on his face wasn't encouraging. Neither was the long silence that
followed.

Carter
laughed stiffly. “If I go by those tight lips of yours and all this
resounding quiet, should I take it the answer is nowhere”

He
wrenched a hand through his hair. “Of course not.”

“So
what are we doing?”

"I
don't know.” His voice sounded frustrated.

“No
wonder your women get confused,” she said gruffly. “Is this what you
always say to them?”

“No.
It isn't.”

“So
what is?”

He pushed
his hands into the pockets of his khakis and looked uncomfortable. “I tell
them not to get serious. That I'm not looking for anything long term. That if
they come across a better offer, they should take it.”

Carter
sighed and shook her head sadly. “I don't know why I asked.”

“Do
you want me to lie to you?” He raised his hands up with irritation.
“What exactly are you looking for?”

“I'm
not sure, but it's not what just came out of your mouth. I don't like being
reminded how foolhardy it would be to get involved with you.” She wrapped
her arms around herself.

He shook
his head back and forth. “I don't know what else to tell you. I'm
sorry.”

“That
makes three.”

He fixed
her with a level stare, his eyebrows arched.

“Three
apologies.”

Nick's
laugh was short but it reached his eyes. “I guess I'm beginning to make up
for all those years of being an insensitive son of a bitch. Never thought
that'd happen.”

Their
eyes met and held. When he spoke again, his voice had softened. “I don't
want to hurt you.”

“Good.
I don't want to get hurt.”

“And
when I say I don't know what's ahead, I mean it's not clear to me how you fit
in.” His face was serious. She sensed he was giving her the best answer he
could.

“Fit
in with what?” she prompted.

“The
way things usually go between women and me.”

A spark
of hope caught fire in her chest. “I suppose if your reputation is
anything to go by, that's probably a good thing.”

“I
think it is.” There was a lengthy pause. “So the weather's going to
be good tomorrow.”

“Really,”
she said cautiously.

“It'll
be a good day to be out on the lake.”

It was a
long time before she answered him.

“All
right. Let's go.”

* * *

The next
morning, Carter spent an hour pacing around inside her tent after breakfast.
The problem she was facing, aside from the fact that she was about to be alone
with Nick for the whole day, was that she had nothing to wear.

Which was
laughable. She hadn't worried about her wardrobe in years. Yet there she was,
on the side of a mountain, wondering which pair of khaki shorts would look
better to a man she had no business getting involved with in the first place.

Reminding
herself that it was just a boat ride and not the Oscars, she dropped to her
knees and dug into her duffle again, fishing through the stacks of folded
T-shirts and shorts, looking for an inspiration that remained illusive. The
homogeneity of the whites, blacks, and khakis struck her for the first time as
disappointing. She didn't have a wardrobe, she thoughtv She had a
uniform.

Carter
finally settled on a pair of shorts, changed into them and put on a clean,
white tank top that showed off her tanned arms. After running a brush through
her hair, she filled her backpack with a pair of purple flip-flops, that
mystery novel she'd almost finished, and her baseball cap. On a whim, she
tossed the brush in and was about to step outside when she realized she'd
forgotten her bathing suit. Wading through the bag, she searched in vain for
the black one-piece.

“Dammit.”

“What's
wrong?” Ellie said, putting her head in through the tent flap.

“I'm
late and I can't find my bathing suit.”

“You
can borrow one of mine.”

Relief
struck. “Thanks, that would be great.”

Ellie
disappeared and returned with a bundle wrapped in a towel. “Bathing suit,
towel, and sunblock.”

“You're
a lifesaver.” Carter crammed the wad into her backpack as the two went out
into the sunshine.

“So
I hope you have fun on your date,” Ellie said with a teasing lilt.

“It's
just a sail.”

“Sure
it is.”

“Really.”
Carter tried to sound serious but, with all her nervous excitement, it was hard
to pull off.

“Uh-huh.
Like dinner and a movie is just food and a chance to take a load off in the
dark?”

“See
you later,” Carter said firmly while trying not to grin.

As she
raced down the mountain, she couldn't believe what she was doing.

The shock
of it all didn't slow her down one bit, however.

When she
approached the boathouse, she saw that the sailboat had been taken off its
mooring and was tied to the dock. Its teak gunnels and brass riggings gleamed
in the sun, and the thick wooden mast waved lazily to the sky.

She
flushed as she saw Nick appear out of the cabin. He was, wearing a Harvard
sweatshirt and a pair of black trunks. His hair looked wet, as if he'd just
been swimming, and he had on those dark sunglasses. With fluid power, he leapt
off the boat onto the dock. His legs were tanned and muscular, clearly those of
an athlete. With all that hardness and lack of spare fat, she knew he'd been
doing some heavy-duty endurance training. She had to wonder when he found the
time.

He bent
down, picked up a picnic hamper and casually hopped back on the boat. A tune,
hummed under his breath, was carried up to her on the breeze.

“Don't
just stand there looking good,” he said over his shoulder. “Let's get
going.”

Carter
blushed, wondering how long she'd been staring at him. How long he'd known she
was there.

Stifling
her embarrassment, she stepped onto the dock and said casually, “Nice
boat.”

Nick
offered her a hand up but she jumped aboard without his help and caught his
grin at the rebuff. She stowed her gear and then went over to the console that
controlled the boat's discreet inboard motor.

“Shall
we fire this baby up?” she asked. When he didn't answer, she looked over
at him and felt a quickening deep inside her body. “What?”

“You
know your way around a boat, don't you?”

“Of
course. Now are we going to get going?”

He
laughed. “Sure. Just make sure she's in neutral, pull the choke—”

She had
the engine flaring to life before he finished the sentence.

“Cast
off,” she told him, looking out to the lake.

“Hey,
who's captain here?”

“Who's
at the helm?” When she glanced over her shoulder, they shared a smile.
“Cast off, mate.”

She
grinned with satisfaction as Nick did as he was told.

Nick
enjoyed watching Carter at the helm. She had one hand on the boat's wheel, the
other on the engine controls, and a big smile on her face. Putting them in
reverse, she gave the engine some throttle, pulled away from the dock, and
executed a perfect turn in front of the boathouse.

“Nice
maneuvering,” he said as she took them toward the open water.

“Thanks.”

“You
do this a lot?”

“Every
chance I get.”

“Me,
too.”

Confident
in her handling of the boat, he went fore and hoisted the mainsail. When he was
satisfied with his rigging job, Nick came back to the cockpit.

“Let's
head south. We can tack over to a secluded bay that's got a great swimming
hole.”

“What's
the temperature of the lake?”

“About
sixty-five degrees. Not cold enough to turn you into a Popsicle, but it'll get
your attention.”