Wish You Were Here (6 page)

“
What, were you raised by wolves?” she said. “You don’t know an invitation when you see one?”

She turned and disappeared back into the cabin. Nate stood where he was for a minute, thinking. Ruby and Piper were back at the house making dinner; they wouldn
’t miss him. And hell, if ever he needed a drink, now was the time. What could it really hurt to have one drink with a pretty woman? He was a single father, not a goddamn monk.

Freya reappeared in the doorway.
“Hey. Brody. Are you coming in or not? You’re letting the bugs in.”

Nate unbuckled his tool belt and dumped it on the porch floor. Two minutes later, they were
facing each other on opposite ends of the couch, each nursing a glass of vodka. Freya had set a shopping bag on her lap, and she pulled out a small souvenir spoon in a tiny plastic case.

“
I never understood those,” Nate said. “What’s the point?”

Freya snorted.
“I have no idea.” She flipped it around so he could see it. “But it says Idaho, so I bought it.” She held up a small plastic bag full of small, round, white candies. “Idaho Snowman Poop. I mean, who thinks up these things?”

“
People who get paid too much,” Nate said, taking a sip of his drink and watching her closely, amused by every movement she made. She might be having a mental breakdown, but she was doing it beautifully.

She pulled out a ceramic potato on a red ribbon, running her hand under it in th
e air like a television spokesmodel. “A potato Christmas tree ornament.” She glanced around, surveying the room, then pointed to the corner behind her. “I think my tree will look nice right there, don’t you?”

“
You plan on being here at Christmas?” Nate said, surprised.

“
Why not?” she said, shifting around again to face him. “Isn’t that what people do when they fail miserably? Start over in a new place?” She glanced around. “And this place is new. To me.”

He looked at her.
“I find it hard to believe you can’t bounce back from this. It’s just one deal.”

“
It’s not,” she said softly. “It’s the last flaming hoop. And it doesn’t matter that I got through all the other flaming hoops. It’ll just matter that I fucked up the last one.” She lifted her glass and sipped, and her forced smile faded a bit.

“
I’m sorry,” Nate said.

“
So,” she said louder, her cheerfulness returning, “are you gonna tell me why you can’t sell me this place, even though you’re a chef with a restaurant back home that you can’t wait to get back to?”

Nate kept silent for a moment,
then sighed. He didn’t particularly like talking about his dad, but it was nothing to keep secret. “This was my father’s place. He was dying. I hadn’t spoken to him in years, never wanted to talk to him again, but he was dying.” Nate shook his head. “He made me give my word that I’d do something for him before selling the land. I still haven’t done it, so I can’t sell.”

Freya stared at him blankly.
“You turned down two million dollars to keep your word?”

Nate took a drink.
“Don’t remind me.”

“
You know there’s honorable and then there’s just stupid, right?”

He raised his eyes to see her smiling at him, and then shook his head.
“I know which one I am. I don’t need you reminding me.”

She sighed.
“Okay, let’s take this from another angle. You just have to do something, right? What is it? Maybe I can help.”

“
I have to find something.”

“
I’m good at finding things,” she said, shifting closer on the couch. “What is it?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
You don’t know?”

“
He started to describe it, and then he died. All I know is that it’s purple, and about”—he held his hands twelve inches apart—“this big.” Nate laughed at how ridiculous it sounded when he said it out loud.

Freya was silent for a long moment, then said,
“Forgive me for being indelicate, but was he on... maybe... painkillers when he elicited this promise?”

“
My dad was on a lot of things in his life, but no. This time, he was lucid. Whatever this thing is, it’s here and until I find it, so am I.”

“
So, I take it you’re a man of your word, then? You won’t go back on it? Even for the kind of money that could keep you and yours comfortable for the rest of your lives?”

Nate took a large gulp of the vodka.
“My word matters to me. I’m sorry if that makes things harder for you.”

Freya put her drink on the coffee table, then leaned back, resting her head on the back of the couch and looking at him.

“You’re not stupid,” she said.

He angled his head to look at her.
“Thanks.”

“
I mean, from before. I said you were either stupid or honorable. You’re not stupid.”

“
Well, that’s a matter of opinion.” Nate rested his head on the back of the couch as well, looking at her, and the air between them seemed to heat up. Her eyes were soft from the vodka and seemed to twinkle in the low light. She was so beautiful, so close that he’d just have to move the tiniest bit and he’d be kissing her, and she smelled like heaven. All he had to do was put that damn glass down and give in, let himself have what he wanted, just this once...

“
Don’t feel bad about screwing up my deal, okay?” she said softly. “You did the right thing, and I’m gonna be okay.”

“
I know.”

She raised her head, looking surprised.
“What?”

“
I know you’ll be fine,” he said. “You’re a strong woman, Freya, anyone who sees you knows that. You seem like the type of person who can bounce back from anything.”

She sat up.
“I do? Even after... all the tears and burning the omelet and my total failure to swing what should have been the biggest cake deal of my career?” Her chin trembled slightly and she pushed up from the couch, walked over to the door, and grabbed her purse. Nate set his glass on the coffee table and followed her.

“
Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

She shook a few Tic-
Tacs into her hand and popped them in her mouth, her back to him. “No. I just need a moment.” She took a few deep breaths, then turned to face him, her eyes dry as they locked on his. “Thank you.”

He reached up and touched her
cheek. She stepped closer and angled her face up toward his and she was so close, all he had to do was—

“
I should go,” he said softly.

She blinked.
“What?”

He swallowed, unable to think.
“It’s... it’s getting late.”

“
It’s six o’clock,” she said, but then threw her hands up in the air. “Okay. You know what? I’m not going to get shot down by the same guy twice in one day. Even my ego doesn’t have that kind of fortitude.” She scooted around him, putting her hand on the doorknob. “Forget it. Bye.”

“
Freya—” he began, but she cut him off.

“
Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s nothing a little Idaho potato vodka and some snowman poop won’t cure. What the hell is in that stuff, anyway?”

“
Freya—”

“
Run along.” She pulled the door open.

He shut it.

“Stop playing games,” he said. “It’s unattractive.”

She raised an eyebrow.
“Oh,
I’m
playing games? Nice. I’m not the one giving the sexy eye and then running out the door.”

“
I have a kid,” he said. “And... sexy eye? That’s a thing?”

“
I know you have a kid.” She made a face. “And you know what I mean.”

“
All right,” he said. “Forget the sexy eye. My point is, I have a kid. It complicates things. Her mother abandoned her when she was really small. I’ve let her meet exactly three women in the past ten years and she got attached to each one, only to have her heart broken when it didn’t work out.”

“
I understand that. It’s just...” She let out a heavy sigh. “It’s been a crap day, for both of us. We’re both... itchy.” She raised her eyes to his, and one side of her mouth twitched up in the sexiest smile he’d ever seen. “It might be nice to... scratch. That’s all.”

One arm went toward her, almost out of his control. The idea of scratchin
g with this woman seemed like... damn. A really good idea.

Except it wasn
’t. He pulled his arm back.

“
Look. Piper... she already likes you. If I stay here long enough to... scratch... Piper’ll know. The kid always knows everything. And she’ll start building castles in her head and—” He sighed, focused his thoughts on his daughter, and achieved a certain level of peace with what he was giving up for her. “Look, you and me, we can do this and walk away unharmed, but I’ve got a kid. What I do affects her, and I won’t hurt her if I can help it.”

Freya watched him, her eyes softening.
“Okay. I won’t take it personally.” She held up her hand. “But, for the record, and my dignity: If it wasn’t for Piper, you’d stay, right?”

“
Oh, hell yeah,” he breathed. Raw want rose in his gut as he looked into those smoky eyes, and he exhaled roughly. “I have to go. Now.”

“
All right.” She pulled the door open and he stepped into the doorway. “You’re a good man, Nate. That’s a good thing.”

She leaned back against the doorjamb and looked up at him, her lips slightly parted and her blue eyes soft from vodka and being itchy, and he couldn
’t believe his fucking luck. It had been a long time since a woman like that had looked at him like that, and he knew the odds were good it would be a long time before it happened again. And here he was, turning down money for his dad, turning down Freya for Piper and who would it kill if he touched her, just for a second?

He reached up one hand, just wanting to know the
feel of her skin. She nuzzled her face into his palm, just a slight movement, and everything else melted away but her. He stepped closer and she took in a deep breath as the warmth from their bodies built a raw heat between them. He moved slowly, knowing these few seconds would have to last him a long time. He slid his hand slowly from her face to her neck, letting his fingers twine in the softness of the hair at the back of her neck. He lowered his head, grazing his lips so lightly over hers that they barely touched. Freya moaned and his body hardened in response. He pulled her to him and kissed her as if it was the last thing he’d ever do, and if his heart didn’t stop pounding like that, it just might be.

Her hands ran over his shoulders, her fingers pressing into his skin, sending waves of heat shooting through him, intensifying his need. She pulled him tighter against her, pressing her abdomen against him, making him so hard so fast that he thought his entire body would explode right there. Oh, God, if the itching was this good, how good would the scratching be?

“Oh, man,” he said, pulling himself away with the last bit of strength he had left. “That was...”

“
Yeah.” She let out a breath, looking a little stunned herself.

He stared at her for a moment, willing some blood to return to his brain. She stared back, breathing heavily, and put her hand to her neck.

“Maybe you should go,” she said.

“
Yeah. Right.” He pushed himself away from the doorjamb. “Good night.”

“
’Night.” She smiled, then stepped inside and shut the door. Nate knelt, gathered his tool belt and box of nails from the porch, and started back for his house, the heady mix of Freya and vodka still on his lips. He walked slowly, concentrating on the taste of her, the smell of her, the memory of how she’d felt in his arms.

By the time he got to the house, he was sure.

That kiss had been worth the two million.

Five

F
reya swiped
the bottle off the coffee table. She took one giant swig, coughed for a few minutes until her face was red, and still, even after a near-death experience by vodka, she was so turned on she hardly knew what to do with herself.

Well, she did have
one
idea, but... she glanced around at her immediate environment. A lumpy orange couch. She supposed she could pull out the bed inside, but by the time she...

The
showerhead.

“
Oooh, smart girl, Freya.” She walked into the bathroom and leaned against the doorway, staring at the tub. She couldn’t believe it was just yesterday that she’d stood in that same place, watching Nate fix the leaky faucet there. If she’d had any idea how that man kissed, she would have thrown him down on the floor and had her way with him right then and there. Remembering the heat of him on her skin set her body back into overdrive, and she hurried out to her suitcase to get something comfortable to change into after her bath. If Nate wouldn’t scratch her itch for her, she’d just have to scratch it herself.

It would be a far second to the real thing, but desperate times—

Her cell phone went off. Her shoulders tensed, and she hesitated, then said, “Better things to do,” and went into the bathroom. She whipped off the “Kiss Me” T-shirt and her blouse, baring down to the silk camisole she had on underneath. She unzipped the side of her skirt and stepped out of it. The cool air of the bathroom on her skin felt good, and she eyed the showerhead with some anticipation as the cell phone gave one last chirp, then cut off.

“
Thank God for voicemail,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and leaned against the sink, trying to bring her mind and body back to what Nate had made her feel. She imagined his lips on hers again, the feel of his hand on the small of her back as he pressed himself against her, her breasts pressed up against his strong chest, the cool taste of vodka on his tongue as he explored her—

The cell phone rang again. She opened her eyes, looked at herself in the mirror.

“Hold that thought,” she said, then stormed out to the living room where she tossed the bags aside, trying to find her purse. It chirped off, going to voicemail just as she pulled it out of its case. She flipped it open, checked the missed calls log.

Dad.
Talk about a mood killer. She hit dial, and waited. He answered on the second ring.

“
Richard Da—”

“
What? What is it you want, what is it you must have
at this exact moment
that can’t wait?”

“
Freya.” He was using his stern voice.

Freya really didn
’t give a crap. “What is it? You got me, what do you want?”

“
I was expecting to hear from you on the Idaho deal. Are you on your way home?”

She put her hand to her forehead, anticipating the headache that was sure to come.
“No, not yet.”

There was a slight pause.
“Did you make the offer?”

“
Yes. No deal. He won’t sell.”

Her father let out a half laugh.
“Well... that’s ridiculous. The property isn’t worth near that much.”

“
No, Dad. It’s not. I seem to recall pointing that out once or twice.”

“
Then what’s the delay?” Her father’s voice shifted from surprise to anger. “Freya, you should have had this deal sewn up in five minutes. I sent you because I thought you could close this one without a problem. I would expect this kind of thing from your sister, but you’ve always been one of my most dependable people.”

Her shoulders slumped and she sighed.
“I can close this deal. It’s just... complicated.” She plunked down on the couch where Nate had been sitting. “The guy has some family issues he needs to deal with. I just need a little more time—”

“
Freya, this is a simple deal. There’s no reason for it to drag on like this, not with that kind of money on the table. I’m beginning to think I should have sent someone else.” Someone
else
? Was he under the impression she was
vacationing
out here? Jesus. She blinked hard and reached for her Tic-Tacs. “You don’t need to send anyone else. I can handle this.”

From the other end of the line, she heard her father
’s heavy sigh. “Come home. I’ll send Charlie Taggert.”

She crunched down on the mints, flipping the box over in her fingers.
“And what happens when I come home?”

“
What do you mean?”

“
You know what I mean. If I don’t come home with this deal signed, are you still going to recommend me to the board as your replacement?”

There was a long silence.
Too long.

“
Freya. I already made my recommendation.”

“
What?” The air went still around her, and then, like puzzle pieces clicking together, she finally got it. “You recommended Charlie.”

Her father didn
’t answer.

“
Bastard,” Freya breathed.

“
Freya, I’d like to pass this company on to you, but you and I both know that’s just not a reasonable expectation.”

“
Really? We both know that?”

“
Your performance has been uneven. You’ve been emotionally unstable.” There was a long pause, and then he said, “You’ve lost your edge, Freya. Surely you’ve noticed that.”

“
Everyone struggles sometimes, Dad,” she said, but he went on as if he hadn’t heard her.

“
Charlie’s record, on the other hand, is above reproach, and he’s got seniority—”

“
Seniority
? It’s Daly Developers. I’m a Daly. You’re gonna have me work under
Charlie Taggert
? The man thinks it’s acceptable to goose his assistant. No one’s ever going to respect me again if my own father picks
him
over me.”

“
Charlie has a strong record. The board feels comfortable with him. In a few years, when he’s ready to retire, if you work hard—”

“
If I
work hard
? What the hell do you think I’ve been doing?” Freya cleared her throat. “All right. Forget it. You know what? I’m gonna close this deal. If I don’t, you can send Charlie. Or, you know, maybe come and close it your damn self, since you seem to think it’s so easy.”

There was a stony silence, then he said,
“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Freya. I’m not just your father. I’m also your boss.”

Not for long,
she thought. “I’ll be home in a few days. We’ll talk more then.”

She flipped the phone shut, her hand shaking. That was it. She had to make this deal now. She needed to come home victorious and drop the damn paperwork on her father
’s desk, right under her resignation.

She reached for her glass and downed the last bit, reeling with determination as it scorched its way through her. She
’d find what Nate was looking for, if she had to tear up every inch of the place to do it. Then she’d sign that deal. She might lose her father, her job, her apartment, but goddamnit, she was going to keep her dignity if it killed her.

As the vodka snaked through her, the energy she
’d worked up drained away. She kicked her shopping bags off the couch, lay down, and pulled the afghan over her, snuggling into its softness. Once this deal was done, her life as she knew it would be over. She could travel. Visit her sister. Decide what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine what her life might be like, but all she could see was Nate shaking his head, turning her down.

Again.

She reached for her Tic-Tacs, emptied the last of the box into her mouth, and started crunching desperately to stop the tears.

It didn
’t work.

***

Malcolm Brody downed the last of the watered-down sludge people in these parts called coffee, keeping his eyes on the front door of the diner. He checked his watch.

She was late. He should have expected as much.
“Would you like a refill on your coffee?”

He glanced up at the waitress. She was young and blonde, but tragically overweight and with an unfortunate mole on her chin that didn
’t help matters much. He let loose with a wide smile; the nice thing about homely girls was they were easy as hell to charm.

“
I sure would, lass. You’re a pretty young thing, now, aren’t you?” The Irish brogue was fake, sure, but at his age, Malcolm Brody had learned the inestimable value of tiny deceptions.

The waitress giggled self-consciously and filled his cup.
“You know,” she said, “we’ve got a fabulous peach pie here. You really should give it a try.”

And you should maybe try it a little less,
Malcolm thought, glancing at her sizable rump, but instead he said, “I will certainly take that under advisement.”

“
Okay.” She smiled and walked away. Malcolm watched her go, sad to see that the view of her wasn’t much improved from the back. Poor girl.

The bell on the door jingled and a woman with short dark hair dragged a heavy, wheeled suitcase in behind her. She wore a well-tailored tweed business suit and a pair of sunglasses,
which Malcolm found amusing. Although Nikkie hadn’t grown up in L.A., that was where he’d tracked her down, and she appeared to have picked up the Los Angeleno quirk of expecting the sun to follow her wherever she went. She pushed the sunglasses to the top of her head, glanced around the diner, and finally locked eyes with Malcolm. He smiled, stood up, and gave a small wave. She rolled her eyes, jerked at her suitcase, and headed his way, not bothering to apologize when she knocked her massive haul into the various patrons unlucky enough to be in her path.

When she reached him, Malcolm smiled wide, hoping he looked like he was pleased to see her again.

“Nikkie, darlin’,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and placing a kiss on each cold cheek. “You’re lovely as ever.”

“
Cut the crap, Malcolm. I flew coach for this.” She tossed herself into the booth, leaving her suitcase out so that the poor fat waitress had to step around it.

“
Good evening,” the waitress said, flashing a wink at Malcolm, then turning to Nikkie. “What can I getcha?”

Nikkie raised one eyebrow at Malcolm.
“You’re paying, right?”

Malcolm nodded, and Nikkie looked up at the waitress.
“Bring me two of whatever alcohol has the highest proof.”

The waitress lowered her pen and pad in apologetic supplication.
“Oh, I’m sorry. We don’t have a liquor license.”

Nikkie
’s eyes closed slowly and she pressed her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. “Just bring me some tomato juice with a celery stalk and a splash of Worcestershire sauce, okay?” She pulled her hand away from her face and looked up at the waitress. “I’ll use my imagination.”

“
Oh. Um. Okay.” The waitress stepped awkwardly around Nikkie’s suitcase and hurried to the back.

“
Well, Nikkie girl, I must say you’re quite the vision. As bonny a lass as ever.”

“
Knock it off, Malcolm. The closest you’ve ever gotten to Ireland is Hennessey’s of Boston, and you and I both know it.”

He sighed. The woman was beautiful, but she had no appreciation for the theater of life. He leaned forward.
“I trust your flight was pleasant?”

“
No. It sucked. They fucked up my reservation and I ended up in coach, and I’m really pissed off about it. So tell me what you dragged me out here for, and it better be good or I’m gonna ask mole girl for a nice big fork so I can stab you with it.”

Malcolm widened his smile.
“Charming as ever, Nikkie.”

“
Fuck you, Malcolm.”

“
Well, I see pleasantries are going to get us nowhere.” Malcolm reached into his satchel and pulled out a manila envelope. “There’s a thousand dollars in there.”

Nikkie huffed and sat back.
“Oh, fuck, Malcolm. A thousand dollars? Are you serious? I live in L.A. now. My manicures cost a thousand dollars.” Despite this, she snatched the envelope off the table with remarkable speed and slammed it down into the seat beside her. “Talk.”

“
That, m’dear,” he said, nodding toward the envelope, “is merely a down payment. There’s more where that came from, you can trust that.”

She eyed him for a long moment and said,
“Well, keep going. What the hell do you want?”

The waitress scooted in and placed Nikkie
’s drink in front of her. Nikkie took a sip and cringed.