Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) (25 page)

Laura heard the determination in Amanda’s voice, and knew it well. She’d heard it in her own voice many times.

“I know you can,” Nathan continued. “And the bonus I’ll get when Hawk Media gets the cruise line account will allow you to do just that. Get out from under the banks. And as for the developers, once the mortgages are paid off, they’ll have significantly less leverage.”

Laura sat back in her chair and frowned, her work all but forgotten. Nathan counted on the account to pay off the mortgages? That made her reasons for wanting the account seem petty in comparison.

“I’ll pay you back. It might take me years, but I’ll pay you back every cent.”

“No.” Nathan’s voice was emphatic. “I’m part of the reason we’re in this mess. I didn’t need to go to Duke—”

“Nathan, we both earned our education from the money Gram borrowed from the banks. At the very least, I’m paying you back half.”

“We’ll talk about it. First, I’ve got to score that account. And to that end, I’ve got work to do.”

“I’m off to bed, then. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Amanda, I know you’re tough. Just like Gram. But I want you to take it easy the next few days. I can handle things. I haven’t forgotten how, you know.”

“I feel fine.”

“I mean it, butterbean.” Nathan interjected.

Butterbean?
Laura thought with a soft laugh.

“I’m glad you’re home. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

A moment of silence, then Amanda said softly, “Gram would have been so proud of you, Nathan. I love you.”

Unbidden, tears stung Laura’s eyes and filled her throat. What must it be like to have someone love you like that? Especially your own family.

“She would have been proud of you, too.”

She heard Nathan’s boots scraping on the hardwood floor. Blinking back the tears, Laura focused her attention on the draft proposal, in case he came into the kitchen, but she didn’t see the words on the screen.

Chapter 21

Lying in bed wearing nothing but his boxers, his arms behind his head, Nathan stared up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. Well past midnight, and he didn’t expect to fall asleep anytime soon.

Thoughts skipped across his mind, like a flat rock across a smooth pond. He thought about the first night he’d spent in this house, less than twenty-four hours after his mother’s death. His scared little sister had tiptoed into his room, and asked if she could sleep with him. He’d cradled her in his arms until the first rays of sun broke through the fog of a hill country morning.

He thought of Amanda now. All grown up, no longer that scared little girl. He thought about how much she’d done on her own. And how much he wanted to help her.

Which circled his thoughts back to the pitch. He’d been pleased with the overall proposal, but he’d made some revisions to the presentation, fine-tuning the scope of work, along with the road map for achieving the campaign’s objectives.

Nathan recalled his grandmother’s admonition:
Always do the right thing no matter how hard it is.

Problem was, Nathan didn’t know what the right thing was anymore.

Surely, saving the farm for his sister was the right thing to do. But so was pursuing his developing relationship with Laura. And he owed Hawk the truth about his relationship with her. But that confession could result in him being removed from the account. Which brought him back to his sister and the farm.

Too many competing interests.

His wayward thoughts then skittered to the woman sleeping in his grandmother’s bed just down the hall. The woman whose bed he’d shared. The woman who now stood in his way. And the woman who occupied his thoughts more than he cared to admit. He was fast on his way to falling in love with Laura.

Heaving a sigh, he scrubbed his hands over his face.

Rising, he crept down the hall, careful to miss the noisy floorboards he remembered so well growing up. Cracking open her door, he was surprised to see her still awake, a magazine across her lap.

She lifted a brow. “Don’t you knock?”

God she looked gorgeous. Propped against the pillows, her hair draped over her shoulders, a lacy little nightgown peeking out from under the covers. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“So, you’re what? A Peeping Tom?”

He chuckled. “You’re right. Sorry. I’ll just—”

She tossed the magazine and covers aside and crawled to the foot of the bed, kneeling there. “You don’t have to go.” Her lace nightie taunted him with the parts it covered. And the parts it didn’t.

“I don’t?” God knew he didn’t want to go. He wanted to slip those silky straps from her shoulders and run his hands up her body.

“No, you don’t.” She reached out a hand to him and he walked to the side of the bed. Lifting her arms, she encircled his neck and pulled him in for a kiss that quickly took a turn for the steamy. Rising up onto her knees, she pressed that lace-clad body to his bare chest, her lips never leaving his.

He leaned into her, pushing her back on the bed, as he lowered himself between her legs. The sound of her breathy moans just the thing to take his mind off the farm, the account, and the bonus.

“God, how I need you,” Nathan whispered. He stared into her wide eyes, his hands caressing her face. “Does that bother you? That I need you?”

She broke the eye contact. Tried to turn her head, but he wouldn’t let her.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Depends on how you need me.”

“I need you like this.” Giving her an out, he tugged the straps off her shoulders, baring her breasts.

“Then, no.” She sighed. “That doesn’t bother me at all.”

Waiting for her heart rate
to normalize, Laura’s mind returned to the conversation she’d overheard earlier. Should she say something? Confess that she heard everything? Not yet.

“Were you born here, in this house?” Her question was met with silence. Just when she’d thought he’d dosed off, he answered.

“What happened to your rule about no personal questions?”

“First, I’m right in the middle of your personal life. I think that ship already sailed. Second, I spilled my guts last night. Now it’s your turn.”

“Right.” He lay perfectly still next to her, his arm wrapped around her. “I was born in Atlanta to a single mom.”

“What about your father?”

“I don’t know who my father is.”

Laura digested that information for a minute.

“And Amanda?”

“Amanda was also born in Atlanta. The child of another mystery man.”

Laura sat up and turned to face him, propping up on her elbow.

“How did you come to live here?”

“It’s a long sordid story. You should go to sleep.” He made to rise, but she held on to his arm.

“Don’t go. Stay. Tell me.”

“My mother was eighteen when I was
born.”

“Is that your mother’s photograph on the chest-of-drawers?”

“Yes. She left home when she learned she was pregnant, and alienated herself from her own mother. She never gave my grandmother the chance. I guess she was just too ashamed, so . . . she just left.” He sighed.

“She went to Atlanta?”

“Yes. She worked as a waitress, a bar tender, a maid, anything that would earn her money to feed herself and put a roof over her head. Once I was born, however, she had to cut back on the number of jobs she held in order to take care of me.”

In the dim light from the moon, she could see the grim set of his mouth.

“This resulted in less . . . desirable living accommodations. We finally moved to Edgewood, a slum in Southeast Atlanta, ironically situated on the edge of Inman Park, an affluent neighborhood. By the time I was three, Amanda had come along. And by the time I was seven, I was taking care of her while my mother went to work.”

“Is that what you meant when you said you didn’t grow up in a great neighborhood?”

“You remember that?” he asked into the dark.

“Of course.”

Silence reigned for a few breaths. He shifted his position so that he faced her. “I knew when my mother turned to prostitution to support us.

“Oh, Nathan.” She laid a hand over his chest, her own heart aching for him.

“She’d leave after Amanda and I had gone to bed and not return until the early hours before dawn. I woke one night to get a drink of water and found our neighbor, Mrs. Sammons, sleeping on the couch. That became a regular occurrence.”

“Life was difficult at best. I had to protect myself and my sister from the criminal elements that haunted the neighborhood schools, streets, and housing project where we lived. Watching our mother struggle for every dollar she earned, I swore that if we were able to get out of that situation, neither me nor my sister would ever live hand-to-mouth again.”

“Even with all the struggles, I made sure Amanda went to school, did her homework. She excelled in school, lousy as they were. My fourth grade teacher, Ms. Sylvester, took both of us under her wing. Brought us books from the library to read, and with the streets too dangerous for Amanda, reading became a favorite past time.”

He traced the outline of her face with his fingertips. “My sister and I stood as a solid unit against the hunger and desperation of life.”

“Where is your mother now?”

“She died of cervical cancer when I was ten.”

“I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. She could see that ten-year-old boy, a seven-year-old sister by his side, wondering where he would go, how he would live. “What was her name?”

“Holly.”

“Where did you and your sister go?”

“A grandmother we never knew we had showed up at the hospital the day our mother died. Gram, as she told us to call her, took care of the funeral arrangements, packed up our meager belongings, and along with our mother’s body in the hearse behind, drove here.”

“We learned about country-living, feeding the animals, collecting the eggs, milking the cow, and tending the garden. Went to the small school. Away from the dangers of the city, we thrived. I put on muscle working on the farm, while time spent outdoors put color in Amanda’s cheeks.”

“Even so, she remained timid and shy. Kept to herself mostly. The only time she really came out of her shell was when she was with the animals. It was like she spoke their language, and they hers. It was clearly in her blood.”

Remembering Nathan referring to his grandmother the first time they met on that sidewalk in Manhattan, which in the dark of the room seemed a lifetime and a world away, she said, “And your grandmother, you loved her, didn’t you?”

“My grandmother taught me what love was, taught me to love, and what it felt like to be loved.”

“You don’t think your mother loved you?” It broke her heart to think Nathan’s mother didn’t love him.

“I don’t know. I often wonder if she was ashamed of me. Of Amanda. I’d like to think she loved us. That she just didn’t have time to show us. She’d been too busy trying to keep a roof over our head and food on the table.”

“I think that alone proves she loved you.” Laura took his face in her hands, stared into his eyes. Into his soul. She’d never felt so close to someone in her life. She kissed him. Not with passion, the only kissing she’d ever known, but with compassion. “Your grandmother would be so proud of you. And so would your mother.”

Following her nose the next morning, Laura found Nat
han in the kitchen, standing at the stove, a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder. The scent and sizzle of bacon set Laura’s mouth to watering, and her arteries to clogging.

The bacon wasn’t the only thing making her mouth water. Wearing well-worn jeans, a blue T-shirt, and a day’s growth of stubble on his face, Nathan was as appetizing as any meal. Her stomach did a delightful little somersault at the thought of that stubble scraping across tender flesh.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. Coffee’s in the pot, cream’s in the fridge. Help yourself.” He flipped the bacon, before picking up his coffee mug and taking a pull.

“I’ve already been up and out taking care of the morning chores. Feeding the chickens, gathering the eggs, checking on the hogs.”

“Hogs?” She eyed the bacon with some trepidation.

Nathan glanced over and chuckled at her expression.

Scooping up the bacon, he laid it on a platter covered with a paper towel. “Put this on the table.” He handed Laura the dish then bent over and took another platter heaped with pancakes out of the oven where they were warming.

Just as Laura and Nathan placed the food on the table, Amanda entered, followed by the now-familiar sound of the screen door slamming behind her.

She strode over to the sink to wash up. “I see you haven’t lost your skills living in the big city.”

“You know what they say, you can take the man out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the man,” he quipped, as he approached the table.

They spent a few minutes digging into the breakfast.

“Sleep well?” Amanda asked, eyeing both Nathan and Laura.

“Absolutely. You?” Nathan asked.

“I did. But, Laura, you must have had a restless night.”

Laura froze, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth, as she shot a glance at Nathan. “No. I slept fine. Why?” Really good, actually. Especially after the last round of sex in the wee hours of the morning.

Amanda’s eyes settled on Nathan. “Well, the walls of this old house are thin, and Nathan you remember how Gram’s bed always creaked and groaned when she had a fitful night?”

Nathan set his fork on his plate, his face turning a deep red.

Amanda snickered. “Honestly, Nathan. Why are you two sleeping in separate rooms?” She glanced between them. “Or should I say
pretending
to sleep in separate rooms? I’m a big girl, and you of all people should know I see enough sex on the farm that I’d have no issues when it came to you and your girlfriend.”

“I’m not—” Laura interjected.

“So, if you’d prefer to go
incognito
”—Amanda slathered butter on her pancakes—“perhaps you should both stay in your room. Your bed doesn’t make as much noise,” she said, pointing at Nathan.

At that moment, Laura fell in love with Amanda.