A Winter's Secret (A Winter's Tale Book 4)

by Kristi Tailor

  Charlotte walked into his office carrying a navy- blue Vera Bradley briefcase in one hand and a bright canary yellow umbrella in the other. “Hello, Mr. Elliot,” she smiled brightly at him. Making her way across the large office, she tucked the umbrella under her left arm before extending her right hand to him. “It is so nice to meet you.”

  Nicholas openly gaped at her, caught off guard by her beauty. His silver gaze traveled the length of her lean frame before settling back on her face. A face that held big almond brown eyes, a button nose and a sensuous mouth. Standing, he offered his hand. “You as well,” he returned her smile, his throat suddenly dry. He was nervous. Gesturing toward the chair he said, “Please have a seat.”

  Charlotte did as she was told. “I have my resume,” she declared, pressing down her anxiety as she un-zippered her flowery briefcase. Leaning out of the chair, she handed Nicholas the crisp white sheet of paper. “Although I’ve never technically held a secretarial position before, I do have six years of experience working in the classroom setting. My previous position has equipped me with the skill of successfully multitasking.”

  “The classroom? You’re a teacher?”

  “Was . . . I was a teacher, an English teacher, actually.”

  “Is your degree in English?” he asked, his silvers watching her intently. She was alluring and he couldn’t help but to be beguiled by her exquisiteness.

  Nodding, Charlotte combed her thin fingers through her thick, jet- black hair. “Yes,” she said, pulling the wavy tendrils behind her ears. “I have a Master’s in Creative Writing.” Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, she shrugged. “I know that I do not meet the qualifications . . . in the job requirements you mentioned that candidates should have at least three years of clerical experience. But− I’ am a fast learner and if you give me a chance you will not be disappointed.”

  “Okay,” he said, without a second thought.

  “Okay?” Charlotte repeated. “Okay as in you’ll give me a chance?”

  “The secretarial job is a temporary position to cover my secretary, Rachel’s absence while she is on family leave. She is scheduled to be out for eight weeks,” Nicholas explained. “Still interested?” Say yes, he thought.

  “Absolutely,” Charlotte grinned at him revealing deep dimples on either side of her face. “When can I start?”

  Nicholas’ breath caught in his throat; she had stolen his breath away. “Immediately,” he said. “Right now.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Really? Right now?”

  “What better time than now, Ms. Toutant?” he smirked.

  “Charlotte,” she corrected.

  “Charlotte,” he echoed. “I’m Nicholas.”

  Nicholas shook his head in disgust. He had fallen a long way since then. Taking a calming breath, he forced the memories out of his mind, his subconscious forcing self- preservation when his brain was determined to wage war against him. “I’m going to tell her,” he said to himself. “I’m going to tell her, everything.” It was the only resolution he could think of− more than Blithe’s unpredictable nature, more than Dean’s blackmail, or even losing his position as Editor-in- Chief, it was his guilt that was threatening to destroy him. It didn’t matter how much he tried to prevent it, the truth would eventually come out, hidden things never stayed buried forever. “Everything,” he said decidedly. “I’ll tell her, everything.”

  Chapter Five

  Walking into the small apartment Nicholas stopped just short of the foyer, a wide smile softening his stressed features. Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” blasted from the surround sound speakers. Quietly closing the door behind him, he made his way down the narrow hallway, careful not to make noise as he rounded the corner to the living room. Charlotte stood in the middle of the room dancing off beat to the music. Pushing the vacuum with her right hand, she moved her hips back and forth, swaying and grinding against the air. Dramatically throwing her head from side to side, her shoulder length ponytail bounced with a purpose. Leaning against the white trimmed cased opening, Nicholas watched her intently, amusement brightening his silver eyes.

  “I see you found something to occupy your time,” he said after a while, his tone teasing.

  Charlotte jumped at the sound of his voice, her foot instantly rising to power off the machine. Slowly, she turned around to look at him. “How long have you been standing there,” she asked, mortified.

  “Long enough to catch those moves you’ve been hiding from me,” he teased. “I was worried you’d be bored without me, but apparently I’m late to the party.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Oh yeah, it’s been some party alright. Cooking and cleaning type of party. It’s been a blast,” she laughed, reaching for the remote control and turning off the music.

  Nicholas raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Really?” he asked.

  Shaking her head, Charlotte opened her arms to him. “I need a hug,” she pouted. “A big hug.”

  Nicholas moved then, happily accepting the invitation. With long strides he quickly closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around her small waist, he pulled her into an intimate embrace. “I take it cooking and cleaning wasn’t the greatest way to spend your day?”

  Sighing into his chest, Charlotte shook her head again. “It was the longest day in history,” she complained. “On a Saturday morning, sure, why not? I mean that’s what Saturday mornings are for . . . cleaning up, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Nicholas agreed, clearly amused.

  “Like, I seriously applaud stay at home moms and wives because their jobs are hard. Like seriously, I am more exhausted from a half day’s work of household chores than I’ve ever been from a full day at the magazine.”

  “Really? It was that exhausting?”

  “Yes, that exhausting,” she groaned. Backing away from him, Charlotte met his silver gaze. “Nicholas,” she breathed, her tone apologetic. “I’m not housewife material.”

  Nicholas laughed then. The sound was light and carefree in the quietness of the room. “Dimple, I’ve known that for a while now.”

  Frowning, Charlotte asked, “What do you mean?”

  “I clearly didn’t marry you for your domestic abilities,” he said, still laughing. Backing toward the couch Nicholas pulled Charlotte to lay with him. He too, was exhausted, mentally and emotionally drained, and what he needed more than anything was to rest with his best friend in is arms.

  “What’s wrong with my domestic skills?” Charlotte demanded, feeling slighted.

  “You’re not the neatest of individuals,” he said into her hair. Closing his eyes, he rubbed her back with strong hands, his anxiety slowly residing as the seconds passed.

  “You’ve never complained before,” she sulked.

  “I’m not complaining now. Just giving my opinion.”

  “Yeah well, your opinion sucks.”

  “And sooo does your house- keeping skills,” he teased.

  “Nicholas!” Charlotte squealed, pinching his arm and then his torso. “You’re so mean,” she giggled. After a short pause she asked, “How was work?”

  Nicholas stirred beneath her but remained silent. Whoever thought such a simple question could be so complex?

  His silence worried her. “Nicholas?”

  “Dimple.”

  “Work? How was it?”

  “Not much better than your day,” he answered, honestly.

  Lifting her head from his chest, Charlotte’s browns met his greys. “What happened?” she asked. “Are deadlines not being met?”

  “No, nothing like that,” he said, his voice low. Leaning forward he brushed his lips against hers, once, twice. His hands going to either side of her face, he absently stroked his thumbs across her high cheek bones. “I missed you today,” he whispered the confession.

  “I missed you, too.”

  “Really?” he asked, smiling broadly.

  Charlotte nodded. “A lot.”

  Nicholas looked at her, a slight f
rown causing small wrinkles to form around his molten eyes. “Dimple−” he began and then stopped.

  “What is it?” she asked, leaning into him. When he didn’t respond Charlotte bent her head to his, her mouth softly grazing the edge of his jaw before moving to his cheek, stopping just below his long eyelashes. Parting her lips slightly, Charlotte kissed his eyelids, easing the lines found there. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  Nicholas opened his eyes to find her staring at him intently. Meeting her gaze, he asked, “What if we left for a while?”

  Charlotte’s arched brows knitted together at his question. “Left? We’re just getting back.”

  “We didn’t have a real honeymoon. Let me take you away for a while.”

  “What about the magazine?” she asked, apprehensively. Something was wrong, she could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. Why won’t he tell me what’s wrong? She wondered. It wasn’t like Nicholas to keep things from her. In all the years they had known one another she had been the reticent one− and so, his now taciturn disposition, was beginning to make her uneasy.

  “Fissicle can handle it,” he said, his silver gaze still holding her browns captive. “Just for a while.”

  “Where will we go?”

  “Wherever you want to go.”

  Charlotte pondered the thought. Perhaps getting away would help to ease whatever was burdening him. What would it hurt? She mused. “Hawaii,” she said after quiet deliberation. “Take me to Hawaii.”

  Chapter Six

  “Dimple, the whole point of snorkeling is to be close to the fish,” Nicholas laughed. “Stop jumping out of the water, you’re scaring them away.”

  “They are getting too close. They are touching me.”

  “Here,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Let’s go under together.”

  “Okay,” she breathed, gathering her courage.

  “On the count of three,” Nicholas smiled.

  “Ten. Let’s go on ten.”

  Nicholas’ grin was wide, reaching his glittering silver eyes. “Three,” he maintained.

  “Nicholas, I have to be comfortable or else I’ll drown,” she whined. Looking into the crystal blue water she cringed as yellow tang and moorish idly swam around her feet and through her legs.

  “In shallow water?”

  “It’s possible to drown while drinking a bottle of water. So, why does the idea of drowning in the ocean seem like an impossibility?”

  Shaking his head at her words, he tightened his hold on her hand. “On three. One. Two. Three!”

  ***

  Staring out into the ocean, Nicholas silently held his Blackberry to his ear as he listened to Alec, the private investigator he hired to keep surveillance on Dean, give his full report. He was surprised to learn that Dean had stayed away from their home and had not been engaged in any suspicious behavior since they had left Manhattan. While this news had put him more at ease, he wasn’t foolish enough to think that the man’s schemes had come to an end. Alec had come at Catherine’s recommendation and so he trusted the man and his abilities completely. “Continue to keep me updated,” Nicholas said when the man on the other end of the line stopped speaking.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Elliot.”

  “While I have you Alec, there is someone else that I need to be surveyed. Blithe Sullivan. White female, blonde hair, blue eyes, twenty- nine years of age. Parents are Mitch and Lily Sullivan. I don’t have an address for her, but I’ll text you her cell phone number.”

  “That won’t be a problem sir.”

  “I want twenty- four- hour surveillance on her. With you tailing Proctor, I would need another agent to keep tabs on the female. Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “Yes, sir. I know a P.I. who’d be willing to do the job.”

  “Good. I’ll be in touch.”

  Ending the call Nicholas placed the device in his back pocket before walking over to where Charlotte had been sleeping peacefully on the plush ivory beach blanket. It had been several hours since she had fallen asleep, and while they had plans to continue their tour of the island Nicholas could not bring himself to wake her. She looked so serene, so peaceful and the last thing he wanted to do was disturb her. Still, laying under the hot sun for too long was not recommended.

  Falling to his knees beside her, Nicholas wiped at the gathering sweat glistening between her brows with the palm of his hand. Bending his head to hers, he kissed her lips, once, twice, two quick pecks meant to intrude her dreams. “Dimple,” he whispered against her cheek. “It’s getting late. Let’s go.”

  “Hmm?” she groaned, lengthening her arms above her head as she turned her torso from side to side, stretching out her suddenly sore muscles. How long have I been asleep? She wondered. Her body ached and burned. “What time is it?” she asked, slowly rising to her feet in hopes of quickly getting her bearings.

  “Almost seven.”

  “Oh no! We missed our hike to Waimoku,” she sulked. “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

  “You needed to rest, and besides the waterfall isn’t going anywhere. I’ll schedule another tour,” he said. Taking Charlotte’s smaller hand in his, Nicholas led her to the shore. “Let’s sit by the water for a little while. The breeze and the small waves will feel good on your skin.”

  Charlotte nodded her head, willingly following his lead to the water. Her gaze drifted the length of his muscular physique; her almond browns were fixed on the flex of his muscles as he walked. The sun had been kind to him, deepening his already tan complexion to tinted gold, he was beautifully sun kissed. Taking in her surroundings, Charlotte counted the number of strangers still on the beach. Two older men stood knee deep in the ocean with fishing rods, five young women lay on their stomachs soaking up the last rays the sun had left to offer before setting behind the clouds, a woman with a Jack Russell Terrier flew a turquoise and black butterfly kite several feet to the left of them. Compared to the hundreds that crowded the beach before she closed her eyes for a nap, it now felt abandoned.

  “Here is good,” Nicholas said, distracting Charlotte from her thoughts. “Sit.”

  “Bossy much,” she sighed, forging annoyance. Though without hesitation she sat down where he allotted.

  Nicholas chuckled. “Am I?” he asked. Sitting behind Charlotte, he opened his long legs on either side of her and pulled her into him. “It’s quite unintentional,” he whispered into the hollow of her neck.

  Resting her head against his chest, Charlotte gazed out into the deep sea, her browns watching as the seagulls dived for prey, the tiniest of splashes far out in the crystal blue. Closing her eyes, she exhaled as the tide made its way to shore, quickly covering their legs and then returning to where it came. “I don’t believe you,” she said, truly feeling content. “This breeze is so amazing. I have never felt anything like it . . . so soft and light. I’m kinda’ sad that we have to go back to the city.”

  “Who says we have to go back?” he asked, placing his chin on her shoulder. “We could stay here. Purchase a home . . . start our life together far away from everything and everyone.”

  Charlotte adjusted her body, turning her head so that her browns could search his greys. “Are you serious?” she asked, staring at him intently.

  “Yes.”

  “What about the magazine?”

  “What about it? Gizzelle Bridal belongs to Fissicle, not me. And even though we go to the same building it’s not the same business. My business has been stolen from me. There’s nothing left in Manhattan worth holding on to.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Stolen? I thought−”

  “Bought out,” Nicholas quickly recovered, silently chastising himself at his slip up.

  “Still, New York is our home. I like it there.”

  “You’d never want to leave?”

  “I wouldn’t say never, but not for some time. Maybe once we decide to start a family, I’d be more willing to consider the idea,” she shrugged. “But, right now I love living in the hus
tle and bustle of the city.”

  Nicholas nodded his head understandingly. “Okay,” he said, inwardly disappointed. Moving away from Manhattan, hell, New York would give them freedom from everything and everyone threatening to destroy their love. More like freedom from getting caught up in your web of lies, his subconscious chastised him.

  Repositioning herself in his arms so that she was once more staring out into the ocean Charlotte said, “Nicholas, I’m curious about something.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Have you ever had sex on the beach?”

  When Nicholas didn’t respond Charlotte turned to face him once more. “Well?” she sighed. “Have you?”

  “That’s a super random question to ask out of the blue,” Nicholas answered, giving nothing away.

  “It’s not random. I’ve actually been thinking about it for some time now.”

  Nicholas’ brows drew together. “You’ve been thinking about me having sex on the beach?”

  “Not just on the beach . . . anywhere . . . everywhere. I’m curious about your sexual encounters before me,” she said, her voice innocent of any judgement. “So, have you?” she asked, smiling at him sweetly.

  Nicholas shook his head, exhaling deeply. “Yeah, let’s have this conversation because there’s no chance of it ending terribly,” he baited, his tone dripped in sarcasm. “Yes, I have had sex on the beach.”

  “How many times?”

  Nicholas’ body tensed; his shoulders noticeably tightened. “I don’t recall,” he answered.

  Laughing, she said, “Calm down. This isn’t an interrogation.”

  “It feels like one.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “I’m just curious,” she said, turning to face the ocean’s canvas once more. “You really don’t recall?”

  “I don’t.”

  “It was that many times?”

  “Yes.”

  “With the same woman?”