He made the turn without weighing it much, but as he drove through the palatial neighborhood and neared her house, a small knot gathered in his stomach. I never want to see you again. She'd said that, and he had the nerve to show up at her house three days later? And had it only been that long? Felt more like three weeks, .three months maybe.
He didn't pull into her driveway, just parked on the street. Somehow that felt less invasive. He wondered if she was inside, if she'd glance out and see his van, if she'd even answer the door.
I'm just here to deliver a cat, he told himself. reaching for the tabby. Not here to bother her, to beg her forgiveness, or to seduce her with my eyes. Just here to deliver a cat.
'There's a cute girl cat here," he said absently to the tabby as he looped his arm around it, "but don't get your hopes up-I doubt you're her type. You're from two different worlds."
Nick felt like a stranger all over again as he walked up Lauren's brick path, stepped cautiously onto the stoop, and rang the doorbell. The place looked enormous and foreign to him once more-the home of the Princess of Ash Builders. When she opened the door, her face fell; clearly she hadn't checked the peephole. Like so many similar instances before, Nick wanted to scold her for that, but kept it to himself and instead launched into why he was here. "Look, I know you never want to see me again, and I don't blame you, but I found this cat." He lifted the tabby slightly. "Some kids were picking on it, and you're the only cat person I know. I can take it to the animal shelter, but I thought they might kill it. And besides, I thought maybe Izzy could use a man in her life." He glanced down at the white cat now peeking from between Lauren's ankles, and lowered his voice. "Unless you think he's too scruffy for her."
Lauren's gaze dropped from Nick to the tomcat, then she reached out, gently taking him. "No, he's not too scruffy."
The slight brush of her hand against his arm had traveled through him like an electric shock. He'd hoped not to feel that, not to look at her and want her, heart, body, and soul, but unfortunately, seeing her only shored up how much he loved her and that he'd lost the best thing to ever enter his life. For a fleeting moment he even considered telling her, but he'd come here to deliver a cat, not keep pleading for a forgiveness he didn't deserve.
"Well. thanks for taking the cat," he said. Then he turned to go.
When he gathered the courage to glance over his shoulder a few steps later, her door had already shut quietly behind him. A sense of loneliness descended as he got back in his van, without even the tomcat for company now. And he guessed he could go by and see Davy and Elaine, but that didn't feel like what he needed at the moment. Instead, he went home, grabbed a quick bite to eat, opened a tube of paint labeled FERN, and reached for his brushes.
He couldn't say exactly when it had hit him, if it'd come in one huge burst of realization, like the Big Bang taking place in his head, or if it'd evolved over the course of time, little pieces of the puzzle slowly dropping into place. He'd spent Wednesday evening painting at home, and Thursday night, too-when he'd painted until well after midnight, not even thinking of the early morning ahead, anxious to finish up the last piece in his collection.
Maybe that's when it had really come together for him. upon realizing with unwavering certainty that it was the last. And as in one of the first, several weeks earlier, shades of blue dominated, yet this painting felt more intensely alive, more fraught with movement, billows of frothing white-capped waves splattering over pale sand. Not that the colors in anyone of his paintings were the focus, not that waves or sand were the elements that made the paintings live. Yes, if it hadn't been clear to him before, that moment was the defining one. Understanding what made them live.
And understanding what made them live somehow made clear to him what he must do, why he'd painted them. It hadn't been a road to nowhere. A road to defeat and heartbreak, maybe, but not a road to nowhere.
Other than Lauren, the only truly wealthy person he knew was Dale Gold, owner of Gold Homes, a builder who constructed custom houses up in Pasco County. He'd only done a few jobs for Gold-the operation lay too far north-but about a year ago, he'd worked straight through a holiday weekend on the exterior of one of Gold's homes as a favor when he needed it done in a hurry. Nick had been satisfied with the overtime pay he'd earned, but Gold had taken a liking to him and even invited him to a couple of company get-togethers at his oceanfront home near Tarpon Springs. Every time he saw the middle-aged man whose graying temples made him look dignified, he slapped Nick on the back, called him a hell of a worker, and said, "If you ever need anything, anything at all, I'm your man."
Nick wasn't usually one to call in favors, but on Friday at lunchtime, he made a call to Dale and was lucky enough to catch him in the office. "Remember when you said I should ask you if I ever needed anything"
"Of course, Nick. What can I do for you?" Dale's always-upbeat attitude reminded him of Phil Hudson, except Dale had always struck him as more competent, and more sincere.
"It's kind of a big one," he warned. "I need to borrow a couple of things from you. Just for a day or so."
"Name 'em." Dale didn't sound the slightest bit concerned, putting him at ease.
"One of your speedboats," he began cautiously, "and your island." Dale had once mentioned owning a tiny island out in the Gulf, several miles offshore, where he took his family for private beach excursions.
"Say no more, Nick, my man. I'll be home around six tonight-swing by anytime after that."
Damn, Nick thought when he hung up the phone a minute later, that was way too easy. And maybe deep down he'd even hoped Gold would refuse him and prevent him from carrying out the crazy plan his own paintings had planted in his head. Instead, though, it was happening, so he had to believe in himself and not be deterred by the doubts of a lifetime. He had to show Lauren exactly how he felt once and for all.
"Well, Davy," he said when he picked up his brother that evening, "I hope you didn't have anything special in mind for tonight, because I've got a little adventure planned, and I need your help to set it up. What do you say?"
"Whatever you want, Nick," Davy said with his usual smile.
As they worked that night, transporting the covered paintings out to the island, Nick and Davy talked, about a lot of things. Nick was stunned to learn his brother liked a girl who worked at Albertson's and had even gone so far as to make her a gift, something that sounded so beautiful he knew only Davy could've done it. Davy said he was working up the courage to invite her to go see the dolphins at the Sand Key Bridge one night, and Nick volunteered to drive them, his heart contracting for his little brother in a way it never had before. Davy told Nick, too, that he'd just finished reading Treasure Island and asked if Nick would take him to the pirate festival in Tampa next February. a request that caught him off guard just as much as the part about the girl.
"Since when do you like festivals?"
"I don't know. I guess it's like you're always telling me-I need to get out more."
They were having such a good talk that Nick found himself explaining-without certain private details and also without showing Davy the paintings-what he was going to do tomorrow to try to win Lauren back. "Do you think I'm crazy?" he asked when he was done.
"No," Davy said, "I think she takes away the storm inside you."
He didn't even have to ask what Davy meant by that; he understood. And he hung on to Davy's words, and on to Davy's unwavering faith in him, hoping and praying he could somehow win back Lauren's faith, too.
When Nick boldly knocked on Lauren's door the next afternoon, he got no answer. His heart beat even faster as he thought, Please be home. Doing this wasn't easy for him. but now that he'd come this far, he couldn't imagine turning back. not bringing his plan to fruition. He had to make Lauren see all of him. see how he saw her, had to make her understand the things he couldn't put into words.
Letting out a sigh, he rounded the house as he had once before, one Friday night, that time holding a pale pink rose. No trickery now, though. Just make yourself say what you feel. If he'd managed to do that with his dad the other night, he sure as hell ought to be able to do it with Lauren.
He spotted her floating in the pool, a familiar flowered bikini clinging to her curves. Seeing her filled Nick with an enormous sense of anticipation, but rather than startle her, he quietly walked up onto the patio and leaned against one of the doorjambs, ready to be patient, ready to wait as long as it took to do things right with her this time.
Chapter Twenty
When Lauren rolled off the air mattress into the water, she let herself dip under to cool down, then broke back through the surface with a splash. Smoothing her hair back over her head and starting toward the steps, she looked up-and spotted Nick standing by the French doors. Despite the heat. her heart froze.
Her chest fluttered with countless emotions, but most were overridden by the memory of the last time she'd seen him like this. It had been different, of course. She'd been naked and he'd carried the rose from her fantasy. Somehow, though, she couldn't help thinking they were both much more naked now than she'd been then, only in different ways.
Water dripped from her body as she left the pool and made her way to where he stood. Like once before, she moved steady and smooth. determined not to look surprised. He handed her a towel when she reached him, and she blotted the wetness from her face, her chest.
"If you came by to check on your cat," she said, "he's fine. Izzy's only being a little standoffish, but that's just her nature." Well, other than where Nick was concerned, of course-with him, Isadora was a huge flirt-but Lauren saw no reason to remind either of them of a time when their lives had been more intertwined. "I think she secretly likes him, and I'm sure they'll get along."
"I'm glad for the cat, but that's not why I'm here." She drew in her breath. Why was he doing this? Why did he keep showing up? Getting over him was brutal enough without his being here, in the flesh. looking so horribly masculine and ... touchable. "Why then?"
"I need another favor from you, for me this time. I need you to go somewhere with me."
Go somewhere with him? Was he crazy? "Where?" "It's ... a secret." He looked uncharacteristically sheepish, but that wasn't good enough under the circumstances.
"A secret, Nick? Haven't you kept enough of those from me already?"
He winced, appearing appropriately wounded by the jab. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm depending on your kindness here-I'm depending on you to give it to me one more time. I need to show you something important, and I know I haven't given you any reason to trust me, but I'm asking you to, just once more. Trust me."
Lauren's first thought was to start yelling and screaming all the angry, hurt thoughts that had lived inside her for the past week. But she had a feeling Nick could already read them in her eyes. They both knew what he'd done.
Her second thought was to simply refuse. No, Nick, I'm sorry, I just can't put myself at risk that way again.
Yet certain curiosity grew inside her. She had no intention of ever forgiving him or trusting him again, but she wondered what the mystery was, what he had to show her. If she didn't find out, wouldn't she always wonder? Wouldn't she always harbor some hint of regret over not knowing what this last thing he had to say to her was? Getting over him was way too distant a goal for her to tell herself she didn't care.
And besides. she couldn't help remembering the last time she'd asked Nick for a huge favor. to go someplace with her. She'd asked him to go to her father's. And he had.
She kept her expression stalwart. ''I'll have to shower and change."
To her surprise, Nick shook his head. "We'll be the only people there, and you're dressed perfectly for where we're going." The idea of heading off to she-didn't-know-where in her bikini flustered her. "Well, at least let me grab something to wrap around myself." She reached around him for the doorknob. "I'll meet you out front."
"Lauren," he said, his eyes looking perhaps as soft as she'd ever seen them, "thank you."
She didn't answer, just went inside and shut the door.
She rushed through the house, practically tripping over Izzy, completely frazzled. Where was he taking her? And why was she agreeing to it? It means nothing, she told herself, nothing. It's only to satisfy your curiosity, nothing more. Even if seeing him again did nearly paralyze her, just as it had the other day when he'd delivered Leopold, as she'd named Izzy's new boyfriend. Oh. if she could only be as strong with Nick as she'd learned to be in other areas of her life.
Tearing through a drawer of swimwear, Lauren grabbed out a sheer black sarong that tied at the hip and stopped midthigh. She flung it around her waist, peering in the mirror as she cinched it. It hardly covered much more of her, but it was something, and she couldn't think straight enough to look for anything else.
When she exited through the front door a minute later, Nick stood leaning against one of the pillars he'd so recently painted. "You look beautiful."
The words melted through her because Nick Armstrong seldom said such things with ease, nor with such sincerity in his gray eyes. Who was this masked man? She swallowed back her emotions. "Let's go."
As they drove in his Wrangler, he attempted small talk, but she kept her answers short. Oh, how their positions had reversed, she thought. She wouldn't be wooed with something as simple as normal conversation, even if Nick did seem unusually persistent about it.
"You need an alarm system," he said at one point. It caught her off guard. "What?"
"I've meant to tell you that for a long time. You're way too trusting about things like that. leaving your house open to people." Lauren sighed, discontented, then finally cast him a contemptuous glance. "Yeah, I guess I did make it awfully easy for you, didn't I?"