Home to Eden (13 page)

She grabbed for her self-control, only to have it slip out of reach when Nick's fingertips brushed her cheek again, sliding across her skin with a gossamer touch that woke nerve endings to tingling life. Kate put up one hand in protest—she was sure it was in protest—but somehow her palm was resting against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the damp knit of his T-shirt. He jerked at her touch, and she felt a swift thrill of feminine power. He could make her tremble, but she could do the same to him. There was excitement in that knowledge.

Afterward, she could never be sure who moved first. She wanted to believe it was Nick, wanted to think that she hadn't been so completely lost to reality that she'd stepped closer to him. But it was a moot point, really. He moved—or she did. His hand cupped her cheek, tilting her face up. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him.

And then his mouth came down on hers and the world spun away. There was nothing tentative in the kiss, no hesitant moment of exploration, no gentle coaxing. It was pure hunger and need. His mouth opened over hers, his tongue demanding entrance, demanding surrender. And she gave it to him, meeting his demand with her own hunger, her own needs.

She didn't know how long she stood there, wrapped in his arms, her body curved into his, her hands clinging to his shoulders. It felt so real, so right, that time seemed to stand still, gifting them with a space where the real world had no meaning, where all that mattered was the feel of Nick's hands on her body, the taste of his mouth on hers.

When he lifted his head, she sighed in protest. Her lashes felt weighted as she forced her eyes open and looked at him. His eyes were dark with hunger, and if that hadn't been enough to tell her how much he wanted her, she could feel the taut length of his arousal pressed against the soft curve of her belly. She shifted instinctively against him, driven by a primitive feminine need to get closer to that rigid length.

Nick's breath caught on a groan and his hands dropped to her hips, his fingers biting into her skin as he pulled her close with a quick, convulsive movement that told her just how badly he wanted her. Kate felt a deep, hollow ache inside, a painful hunger that formed a knot in the pit of her stomach. She'd never felt like this before—had never felt so physically empty, as if only this man could fill that emptiness and make her complete. Not even Gareth had ever—

Kate sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening in stunned disbelief as she looked at Nick. What was she doing? Gareth. How could she have betrayed him like this?

The hands that had been clinging to Nick's shoulders were suddenly pushing against him, her breath catching on something perilously close to a sob as he released her. She took a quick step back and was immediately—shamefully—aware of a feeling of loss.

"Kate." He stretched out his hand and she backed away as if the touch of it might bum her. And it would, she thought. One touch and she just might tumble into his arms, all sense of right and wrong forgotten in the overwhelming need to be a part of him.

"No." In her mind, the word was a shout, but what came out was little more than a whisper. She backed up another step and said it again, louder this time. "No.''

"Kate—"

She didn't wait to hear what he might say. She gave him one last, frightened look and then turned and ran, fleeing into the cool rain as if chased by demons, all the while aware that what she most feared, she carried within her.

Nick took a half step after her and then stopped. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he hunched his shoulders against the chill and watched her out of sight, his expression set, his eyes cold and bleak.

❧

"Rain always makes me hungry," Harry said as he walked into the kitchen. "I was thinking about ordering a pizza for dinner. You want to split it with mer'

"Am I going to have to watch you pour a pound of dried red pepper flakes on it?" Nick asked, reaching for a towel to dry his just washed hands.

"You can close your eyes," Harry offered generously. "You want pepperoni and mushroom?"

"Sounds good." Nick draped the towel carelessly over the piece of wire that was serving as a towel rack until he got around to replacing the old one, which was broken. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out two beers, listening with half an ear as Harry called in their order. He set one of the bottles on the counter for Harry and twisted the top off the other.

"They said it will be here in half an hour," Harry said as he hung up the phone.

Nick wasn't really hungry but eating a pizza with Harry was better than sitting around by himself, brooding about what had happened with Kate this afternoon. He'd already had more than enough of that. He'd spent the afternoon with his thoughts circling endlessly about how good she'd felt in his arms, how right it had felt to hold her, to kiss her.

He took a swallow of beer without tasting it No matter how many times he reminded himself that she was engaged to marry his brother, he couldn't forget those few moments in the gazebo this afternoon. Kate would probably try to deny it but he knew she'd felt the same thing, the same sense of rightness, of belonging.

For those few minutes, when they had been alone in the storm, she'd been his. There had been no past, no future and the present had been reduced to only that moment, only the two of them. It had felt so good, so right.

Only it hadn't been right. Even if she hadn't already been promised to Gareth, the last thing he needed or wanted was to get involved with someone. His fingers tightened around the bottle and his mouth tightened into a grim line. He wasn't ready for that— wasn't sure he'd ever be ready again.

With an effort, he shook himself out of his thoughts and turned to smile at Harry. "So, how is the book going?"

"Not bad. I've been going over old clippings and letters. It's amazing how much you forget." Harry was writing a book about his years as an attorney. Now's the time, he'd said, I haven't gotten so senile that I can't remember, but everyone likely to take a contract out on me or sue me to within an inch of my life is dead. Nick figured that, if Harry could write a story as well as he could tell it, he was destined for the New York Times bestseller list.

"The rain was a nice surprise today," Harry said as he twisted the cap off his beer. "Kind of late in the year for it. I figured we wouldn't see rain again until November or so."

"I guess, even in California, the weather can surprise you." He took a drink of beer and tried to think of a new topic. Talking about the rain made him think of Kate. Not that he needed any reminders to think about her, he admitted reluctantly.

Harry cleared his throat. "I see Kate planted that tree she liked next to the gazebo," he said casually.

Too casually? Nick wondered, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the old man.

"It looks nice there," Harry continued. He turned his beer bottle restlessly between his fingers, keeping his gaze on the movement. "Looks real nice." He shot a quick glance in Nick's direction. "I can see it from the guest house, you know. Good place for a tree."

Nick debated about whether or not to pick up the bait. Obviously, Harry had seen some, if not all, of what had happened between him and Kate this afternoon. Equally obviously, he had something to say about it.

"Spit it out, Harry," he said tiredly.

"I don't want to interfere," Harry protested.

"Who are you kidding?" Nick was ruefully affectionate. "You live to interfere and we both know it."

Harry's smile was perfunctory. "I don't want to see you get hurt, that's all. I wonder if you know what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything." Nick's fingers tightened around the beer bottle until the knuckles showed white. "What happened this afternoon was an aberration. It doesn't mean a thing."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he lied. "Kate's engaged to my brother. End of story."

"I hope you mean that," Harry said, looking only slightly relieved.

Nick hoped he did, too.

"I'd hate to think that my asking you to come back here could end up causing problems for you. I'd feel responsible."

"If I was stupid enough to make a play for another man's fiancee, it would be my responsibility, not yours." Nick watched the almost empty bottle swing like an amber pendulum between his fingers.

"I'm the one who brought you back here," Harry insisted.

"So you did." He lifted his eyes from the hypnotic motion of the bottle and looked at his old friend. "Did you ever have any intention of selling this place, Harry?"

"Of course I did," Harry blustered after a telling moment of silence. "I still do."

"Going to move to a condo and play golf?"

"What's wrong with that? Perfectly acceptable activity for an old codger like myself."

"There's nothing wrong with it," Nick agreed. "Except for the fact that you don't know a nine iron from a tire iron."

"I can learn." Harry took a quick drink of beer and then coughed as it went down the wrong way. "Lots of men my age take up golf."

"Uh-huh." Nick kept his eyes on the bottle swinging between his fingers.

"Good cardiovascular activity," Harry muttered.

''So I've heard."

''Golf's a civilized game—lots of skill and strategy involved."

"You certainly know a lot about strategy," Nick said.

"Damn right I do." Harry lifted his beer but lowered the bottle without taking a drink. He fixed Nick with a fierce blue gaze. "I'd be good at golf."

"I'm sure you would be," Nick said, sounding mildly surprised that Harry should think it necessary to say as much.

"I'm a lawyer. Lawyers all play golf."

"Seems like it," Nick agreed cheerfully.

"It's practically a part of the bar exam."

"Uh-huh."

"Besides, it's ridiculous for a single man to be living in a house this size," Harry continued, as if Nick had argued with him. "I rattle around here like a pea in a rain barrel."

"It's a big house."

"A condo would be more practical."

"Sure would."

There was a short silence. Nick waited, his mouth curved in a half smile, his eyes still on the bottle between his fingers.

"No." Harry snarled the single word as if it had been dragged from him. "No, I didn't ever intend to sell the damned place."

"Saving my soul, Harry?" Nick asked, as he had once before. He set the bottle down and looked at the old man, his expression amused and a little exasperated.

''Not your soul. That was never in any danger. But you can't grieve forever, Nick."

''So I've been told." He shook his head. "I'm not sure what it is about me that inspires people to tell me that. I didn't throw myself into the grave with Kyle and Lisa, did I?"

"Not physically, maybe, but you just... stopped living, somehow."

Nick pushed his hands into his pockets and turned to stare out the window at the darkness. When he spoke, his voice was hard with suppressed emotion. "I buried my wife and son, Harry. That's inclined to leave a few scars."

"I know." Harry shook his head. "I worry about you. I don't want to see you end up like me—old and alone. And if you look sympathetic, I'm going to break this bottle over your head," he snapped irritably. "I'm not looking for sympathy, just laying out the facts. You're young enough to think you'll never get old, but trust me, it happens to all of us."

He sounded vaguely indignant, as if he still couldn't believe it had actually happened to him. Nick caught back a smile.

"I appreciate your concern, Harry, but I haven't sworn off relationships."

''Maybe not, but you certainly haven't gone out of your way to get involved with anyone, have you?" He caught the irritation that flashed across Nick's face and held up one hand. "I know, I should mind my own business."

"I couldn't have put it better myself," Nick said, less sharply than he might have. "I'm a little past the age where I expect my elders to take an interest in my love life."

"You're right." Harry shook his head. "It's none of my business except I... Well, I always felt as if I was responsible for what happened."

Nick felt his stomach knot as memory washed over him. Blindly, he went to the refrigerator and pulled open the door, ignoring the protesting clank of bottles rattling against each other. He reached in and took out a beer he didn't want. "No one was responsible for what happened, not even Lisa."

"But I'm responsible for introducing the two of you," Harry said. "I always knew Lisa was...fragile, that she'd need someone to take care of her. I pushed her toward you." There was an air of confession about his statement, as if he was unburdening himself of a guilty secret.

"I knew that," Nick said calmly.

"You did?" Harry stared at him in surprise. "How did you know?"

"As a matchmaker, you're about as subtle as an elephant at a tea party, Harry." His smile was genuine. "You all but offered her on a platter."

"I did no such thing!"

"You stopped just short of it. I knew all along what you were up to."

"Then why did you..." Harry's voice trailed off uncertainly.

But Nick answered the unasked question. "Why did I marry her?" He shrugged. "She needed me and I guess I needed to be needed."

Silence followed his words. Harry looked at the beer he'd barely sipped. Nick stared at the clock on the wall above the door, watching the second hand tick off each second with a briskly self-important air. He'd never articulated the reasons for his marriage, never put it quite so plainly, even in his own thoughts. He was uncomfortable with having done so now. The chime of the doorbell provided a welcome interruption.

"I'll get it," Nick said. He set down his unopened beer and left the kitchen without waiting for a response.

Harry looked after him, his expression worried. Whatever Nick said, he knew he was at least partially to blame for what had happened five years ago. He'd manipulated Nick's life, and Lisa's, too, and the results had been tragic. Now, he'd manipulated Nick's life again, bringing him here in the hope that, if he dealt with the past, he'd be able to move on and build a future. His intentions had been the best, but everyone knew where good intentions all too often led.

The scene he'd witnessed this afternoon made him wonder if he hadn't made a huge mistake. If Nick was in love with his brother's fiancee... Harry shuddered. It didn't bear thinking of.