He blinked. “You’ve never been out of the country?”
She shook her head, feeling breathless for some reason.
He sat back, disbelief in his eyes, not that she exactly blamed him.
“You’re kidding,” he said.
Now she was annoyed. This is why she usually kept private things about her life private. “I’m not kidding. I’ve been busy. It’s hard to explain to someone who’s not an artist. But when I’m painting, not much else matters. It’s kind of like being in my own world, I guess.”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “When you studied art, didn’t you want to go see the great works for yourself?”
Lauren’s eyes burned for some reason. Yeah, she had. Dearly. But she hadn’t wanted to go by herself. And to become good enough friends with someone in order to travel out of the country meant she’d have to do things that friends did. Talk about her past, who she really was—and she knew she was a juxtaposition.
Just then, the food arrived, and as Francesca set their platters before them, Lauren decided she was grateful for the interruption.
Nick unlocked the door to his home and stepped into the dark interior. The place smelled of cleaning solution, which told him that Mallory had been there to clean that day. He’d texted her not to prepare a meal since he’d hoped to convince Lauren to go out to eat with him.
He didn’t know what had driven him to visit her at the gallery tonight. He’d wanted to see her, plain and simple. No real agenda. Yeah, the business deal with her grandmother had taken a detour, but in no way did Nick think it was a closed door.
Most business deals took detours until the terms were agreed upon. He believed that with a few weeks of patience on his part, Mrs. Lillian Ambrose and her granddaughters would see that the benefits were much stronger than the drawbacks.
But that wasn’t why he’d gone to see Lauren. Maybe he was just curious to see her in her world of art and galleries and also to view her works up close.
He’d bought the two paintings with cats in them. The thought made him smile as he flipped on a light and headed into the vast gourmet kitchen. It had been one of the draws of the beach house when he’d been looking for a place in San Diego. After he joined his father’s company, he’d moved down from Newport to be closer to company headquarters.
Nick opened the fridge and took out a water bottle. Dropping Lauren off at her car had been hard. He’d wanted to follow her to her condo, check the place out, make sure everything was secure. But she’d assured him that she had a great security system and that Kevin didn’t have a key or any codes.
Still . . . Nick opened the water bottle and guzzled half of it down. He probably needed caffeine after the rich Italian meal in order to stay alert for his conference calls starting in about an hour. He’d be attending a board meeting, via videoconferencing, for one of his venture companies headquartered in London.
But if he had caffeine now, there was no way he’d be able to fall asleep in a few hours. Lauren was already plaguing his mind enough.
He picked up the suit jacket that she’d taken off, and he shrugged into it. She’d kept his tie and had probably forgotten about it by now. And he hadn’t reminded her. So he headed into his bedroom and selected another tie, then slipped it around his collar and did up the knot.
Next, he headed down the hall, then turned into the office, where the floor-to-ceiling windows gave him a view of the Pacific. Without the lights on, the moon seemed to light up the whole expanse of the ocean.
He crossed to the windows and gazed out of them for several moments. Lauren’s questions about his dad had stirred up all sorts of memories, from the early conversations with his dad about coming to work for Matthews Capital and Holdings. Nick’s initial resistance. Then his dad’s confession that he was having a heart stent put in that weekend.
The news had shaken up Nick’s view of his successful and healthy father.
“I won’t live forever,” his dad said. “And although I’m not ready to kick the bucket yet, I’d rather leave Matthews Capital and Holdings in the hands of my very capable son instead of the board.”
Nick had flown to San Diego for a few days for the surgery. His mom hadn’t come, but there had been several phone conversations between his parents.
About two weeks after the surgery, his dad had brought up the subject again, this time in a rare conference call with both of his parents.
They both thought Nick was talented and ready. And the grooming began.
He finished off the water bottle, then tossed it into the trash next to the desk. He checked the time on his phone. He still had time to review the agenda he’d put together for the meeting. So he turned on the office lights and powered up his desktop.
By the time the meeting started, his mind had finally reverted to all things business. Any tiredness he’d felt was gone, and he was hyper-focused, drilling down through the agenda items. They were halfway through the agenda when his cell phone buzzed with a text. Nick glanced at the time and saw that it was one in the morning.
And the text was from Lauren.
Nick’s breath stalled when he saw what she’d written.
Did you knock on my door a few minutes ago?
Nick felt frozen. He quickly texted her back: No. Can you call me?
Then he spoke into his headset. “I need a five-minute break.” Without waiting for an answer from the board, he switched his screen, then texted a question mark to Lauren. He didn’t even have her address, so how would he be at her place, knocking?
His phone rang seconds later, and she sounded out of breath.
“Hi, sorry to bother you,” she said in a rush. “I think it was just teenagers goofing off. You know, door ditching.”
Nick rose to his feet and paced to the windows. “Did you see them?”
“No, I mean, I was almost asleep when someone knocked, so by the time I got to the door, they were gone.”
He exhaled. “Have you had door ditchers before at your complex?”
Her voice sounded faint when she replied, “Not exactly.”
Nick closed his eyes. “Text me your address. I’m coming to pick you up.”
“Nick, really, that’s kind of extreme, don’t you think?”
“I don’t like the timing or the coincidence of what happened with Kevin tonight, do you?”
“Well, no—”
“Just send me your address,” he said. “I’ll check out the place, and then we can go from there. But I think you need to call your complex’s security as well.”
She hesitated, but then she said, “Okay.”
When Nick hung up with Lauren, he returned to the board meeting. “Sorry, everyone, I have an emergency. Please continue with the agenda, and email me the decisions made. I’ll go over them as soon as I can.”
He clicked off again and headed to the kitchen to grab the key fob he’d left on the counter. Five minutes later, he was speeding along the dark streets of San Diego, heading in Lauren’s direction. Frustration pounded through him. She should have come home with him in the first place. If Kevin was at her complex, he might not stop at door ditching.
Even now, he might be lurking, making plans.
Nick used his Bluetooth to call Lauren. He exhaled with relief when she answered.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m just putting together a few things for tonight.”
“Where are you?”
She paused. “In my bedroom.”
“Is everything locked in your place? Doors and windows?”
“Yeah, at least I think so . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Not sure about the kitchen window. I sometimes leave it open.”
A shiver ran through him. “Does your bedroom door lock?”
“Yes.”
“Lock it until I get there,” he said. “And stay on the phone with me.”
“Okay.”
The tension in her voice was clear, and Nick wished he could speed
through all the red lights. Each one seemed agonizingly slow. By the time he reached the complex, the urgency had only grown inside of him. He entered the gate code that Lauren had given him.
“Everything still okay?” he asked as he drove his car toward her building.
Even though he’d asked her that a dozen times, she said, “Yeah.”
“Good,” he murmured, then pulled into a stall and parked. Climbing out of the car, he glanced around, checking for moving shadows, an idling car, anything that might stand out this time of night. But all seemed quiet.
Nick wasn’t fooled into relaxing, though. He strode to Lauren’s door and texted: I’m here.
Moments later, the door cracked open.
“Hey,” he said in a soft voice.
She opened the door wider, and he stepped across the threshold. A single light was on, keeping the room dim, and he scanned the room while she shut the door. She had several large watercolors on the wall, and he wondered if they were done by her. Their pastel colors were landscapes that looked similar to the property around Ambrose Estate.
When he turned back to face Lauren, she was leaning against the door, her eyes wide as if she was spooked.
“You okay?” he said, although he’d asked her more than a dozen times tonight.
She nodded, then bit her lip.
Next thing he knew, she’d closed the distance between them and slipped her arms about his waist.
“Thanks for coming,” she whispered. “I was about to lose my mind.”
He wrapped his arms about her shoulders, holding her close. “I’m glad you called.”
She said nothing, only held onto him.
He lowered his chin, resting it on the top of her head. This was a new thing for him, to be holding a woman simply because he was grateful she was safe. The embrace somehow turned more intimate as he began to notice small things, like the scent of her hair, the warmth of her breath against his skin, the way her heart was racing . . .
“Let’s get your things,” he said in a quiet voice, easing her out of the embrace. He needed to cool off before he cradled her face and kissed those lips of hers.
Lauren blinked up at him as if she were coming out of a fog. Nick felt the same way. He smoothed some of her hair behind her ear, then let his fingers brush against her neck.
She stepped away then, and his hand dropped. “Give me a second.” She moved past him and headed down the hallway.
Nick exhaled, refocused, and checked all of the windows in the kitchen and throughout the front room. By the time Lauren returned with her multicolored bag over one shoulder and a blue duffle bag in her other hand, Nick was thinking much more clearly.
“Does this place have security cameras?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Lauren said. “Do you think they would have caught something?”
“It’s worth finding out.” Nick opened the front door. He took the duffle bag as Lauren stepped through the doorway. The weight of it surprised him. “What do you have in here?”
“Some art supplies,” she said. “Don’t worry, they’re non-fragrant.”
Nick wasn’t worried, just curious.
He waited as Lauren locked the door, then he led the way to his sports car and opened the passenger door for her. Then he set the duffle in the trunk, and on his way to the driver’s side, he glanced around again. Looking for any movement, any out-of-place shadow.
Seeing nothing, he joined Lauren in the car. And as they drove out of the complex, Nick couldn’t quite explain the relief that pulsed through him, but he was glad that Lauren had agreed to come with him.
The sunlight streamed across the guest bedroom, where Lauren had spent the night. She guessed it to be almost noon by the warmth and intensity of the brightness. Turning over, she grabbed her cell from the nightstand. Sure enough, it was twelve thirty. She hoped that Nick wouldn’t be annoyed that she’d slept so long, but in truth, she hadn’t gone to bed until about six that morning.
After Nick had given her a tour of the beach house, she’d been too keyed up to sleep. So she’d started a new miniature painting, and the hours slid by. She had no idea how long Nick had stayed up, because he’d gone downstairs to the main part of the beach house. He’d told her that he had some work to do, but whenever she got up in the morning to help herself to whatever was in the kitchen.
Lauren pulled the coverlet higher and burrowed into the downy softness. The guest room was on the top floor of the gorgeous beach house, and the view was stunning from the floor-to-ceiling windows. She could easily stay in bed for another hour and just watch the undulating waves of the Pacific.
Was Nick even home? He’d mentioned an office downtown and that he’d been on a conference call with a London client when she’d texted him. So where was he now? No sounds reached her, and the silence only made her curious. She climbed out of bed, changed from her PJ shorts and tank top, and pulled on yoga pants and a T-shirt. Then she smoothed her hair into a ponytail.
Picking up her phone, she debated whether or not to tell Sofia that she was staying at Nick’s house. No . . . there was nothing going on. There was no reason to create any family drama. As far as Lauren was concerned, if Nick did present a counteroffer, it would have nothing to do with her.
She left the guest bedroom and walked barefoot down the stairs to the main floor. In the daylight, the place was even more gorgeous. Pale-gray walls followed the arc of giant windows, overlooking the beach and ocean beyond. All the furniture was square and pale gray or white, but it looked comfortable enough. She padded into the pristine kitchen that had all the implements of a professional gourmet kitchen.
“Nick?” she called, just to cover her bases. No answer. She wasn’t going to text him and bother him if he really was at his downtown office.
She crossed to the fridge and opened it. Several containers of food graced the shelves, all of them labeled in a decidedly feminine hand. Lauren pulled out a container of cut-up fruit. She found a fork and ate a few pieces.
As she ate, she heard a faint thumping. Like a soft, rhythmic thud. Maybe she wasn’t alone. She listened for a moment, then walked around the kitchen island and headed down a hallway toward the sound. The thudding grew louder, and at the end of the hallway, a door sat partially open. At first glance, Lauren realized it was a workout room.
She moved a step closer and caught a glimpse of Nick running on a treadmill. He was wearing wireless earbuds and seemed oblivious to her presence. He wore athletic shorts and running shoes, and that was it. No shirt. Lauren really shouldn’t be spying on him, but she’d never seen Nick so . . . undressed before.
She had the perfect view of his back, as he faced the long windows overlooking the beach. And the mirrors on the side of the room gave her a peek at his torso. His sculpted physique made it pretty obvious that he never skipped a day working out in some fashion. She was pretty sure he was in the 2 percent fat bracket.
Lauren swallowed. She’d already determined he was a beautiful man, but Nick without a shirt was something to behold. And now she felt all kinds of warm, which meant she should return to the kitchen immediately.
Then he turned his head, and their eyes connected through the mirror. His step faltered on the treadmill, and Lauren jerked back into the hallway, her breath suddenly gone.
He’d seen her staring at him. Sure enough, the treadmill powered off, and there were no more thudding footsteps.
“Lauren?” His deep voice cut through her embarrassment.
“Yeah?” she said, keeping to the hallway. No doubt her face had flamed red.
And then he came out into the hall, using a hand towel to wipe his neck. In his other hand, he carried a water bottle. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Did I wake you up?”
Lauren wanted to look everywhere but at him. The sheen of perspiration that covered his face and neck and shoulders and chest, and lower . . . it should have been a turnoff, because he was a sweaty man, right? But warmth pooled in her belly at the sight. The scent of expensive
cologne was gone, replaced by perspiration and spice, a combination that didn’t bother her at all.
“Um, no,” she said. “I heard thumping when I went into the kitchen, and I thought I’d investigate. I didn’t know if you were here or at your downtown office.” His breathing was starting to slow down, and Lauren stole a glance at him, then dutifully looked away again.
He took a drink from the water bottle, and Lauren was sure to keep her gaze averted.
“Lauren, I wasn’t about to leave you alone,” he said. “Not after a night like last night.”
She nodded. He was being way too courteous. “You could have gone into your office . . . I’m fine.”
She felt his gaze on her.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
“Um, yeah, once I fell asleep,” she said, glancing at him again. “I painted for a while.”
“Is that what you were doing with the light on?” he said, studying her. “I didn’t know if you sleep with the light on or if you were spooked or something.”
“I sleep with the light off,” she said in a quiet voice. “Were you checking on me?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you, but I might have gone upstairs a time or two.”
Lauren was warm again. Would it be rude to snatch his water bottle and drink it down? “Well, I’m fine, and thanks for your help. But I should get out of your way now.” She waved a hand at his body. “You’re busy, and I . . .” Her gaze involuntarily moved down the length of his body. “I have stuff to do.”
Nick smiled when their eyes connected again.
Oh dear. Could she be any more obvious?
“Like what?” he asked.
“Like . . . stuff. Lots of stuff.” She turned. “I’ll clean up the food in the kitchen, then get my things. Don’t worry about driving me, I’ll call a Lyft.”
She didn’t even get three steps down the hall before Nick grasped her arm.
“Lauren, wait,” he said in a quiet voice.
Slowly, she turned to face him. He dropped his hand. “Stay, for breakfast or lunch or whatever. We need to get that security footage before you return to your place. I talked to one of my lawyers this morning, and he recommended that you file a protective order against Kevin. It holds more weight than a restraining order.”
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