A smile touched his lips. Just a little crooked smile, the one I remembered, the one that made any woman with a pulse notice how firm his lips were, how sexy his smile was, how it made his eyes gleam. My knees threatened to give out on me, though for the sake of my pride, I blamed the champagne for that.
I gripped the door frame with all the insouciance I could muster. He looked at me, really looked at me, and his smile broadened slightly. I knew my resolve could quickly be in very serious trouble.
“Ever heard of the phone?” The deadbolt punctuated my question with a satisfying, decisive roll of brass.
It was perfectly simple. I was going inside.
He wasn’t.
I was not running away, though it sure felt like it.
“That’s how I found you.” Nick eased to his feet, evidently coming to a different conclusion than I had. “Not too many Philippa Coxwells in town, fortunately for me.”
Fortunately? Why fortunately?
My heart skipped a beat—hope is one impulse that refuses to learn from experience. It was in the air that night and I suspect it runs in my blood. I stomped on hope hard and knew damn well it didn’t surrender.
I could feel Nick drawing closer and knew that if he touched me all those barricades against him would come tumbling down. I blocked the door with my body and briefcase, and eyed him the way I imagine a rabbit eyes a hungry fox. “What do you want, Nick?”
He frowned quickly, then pushed one hand through his hair, leaving the dark waves in a tangle. “I need your help, Phil.” Before I could go crazy speculating about that, he looked me square in the eye. Something quivered deep inside me.
“I need some legal advice and I didn’t know who else to ask.”
Well, romance is alive and well, but has left the galaxy in search of greener pastures.
Every champagne bubble simultaneously went flat.
See? crowed the know-all voice deep inside me, a voice which sounds a whole lot like my mother’s.
And that, even more than his words, made me mad.
“You need what?” I flung my briefcase inside the door, too divested of inhibitions to hold back. I flung out my hands and he took a step back. “You think you can just show up, after fifteen years, and ask for free legal advice in the middle of the night?” I poked him in the chest to make my point. “Ever heard of business hours?” Another jab. “Ever heard of Legal Aid? Haven’t I done you enough favors for a lifetime?”
“Phil, take it easy.” He spoke quickly, soothingly, as though I was unpredictable. He caught my jabbing finger and folded it into the warmth of his palm. His expression was so earnest that my mouth went dry. “I know this is a surprise. If you don’t want to help, I’ll walk away and never bother you again. Five minutes of your time, counselor, tops.”
Counselor. There’s one word I would love to never hear again.
I glared to the best of my abilities, ignoring the SOS signal my captured hand was telegraphing back to mission control. “You need a lawyer so you just show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night and expect a hearing?”
“Phil, this is different.”
I caught a glimpse of the vulnerability that lit his eyes. Maybe it had been there all along, but he looked suddenly so battered and uncertain that my heart went out to him.
My hand was already there.
Now, I am the greatest sucker in the world. Elaine keeps saying she’ll get me a trophy. I fall prey to more cons than my pride will let me admit—most involving pictures of starving children.
And it’s not just strangers who sucker me. Everyone in my family dumps their emotional payload on me. I’ve listened to thousands of Elaine’s tales of romantic woe. I’ve got more secrets in my stash than a sane person would know what to do with.
Even I’m not sure sometimes.
But you’ve got to draw the line somewhere. And Nick had let me down. I watched his thumb slide across the back of my hand and knew I should be remembering that. I should be walking through that door and locking it against him, I should be denying him anything I could deny him.
It was a lot harder than it should have been.
“Just hear me out, Phil.” He shrugged and that smile appeared again, though this time I noticed that it didn’t reach his eyes. “This time I don’t want to just let the law have its own way.”
Unsuspectingly, Nick gave me the ammunition I needed to turn him down. If he had been asking me to listen as a friend, for old times’ sake, or if he had made any kind of reference to emotion at all, I might have buckled.
But Nick had made the mistake of bringing it back to the law again.
It was the theme song of my life and the tune grated on my ears. If the only reason he had come looking for me was because I might be a lawyer, then he could get in line with everyone else who was disappointed in my choices.
I pulled my hand out of his and reached for the door. “You came to the wrong place.”
“How can that be?” well, if he needed a map to the nerve he had hit, I was more than ready to give it to him. “You must have been called to the Bar by now. If nothing else, Phil, you get stuff done. Last time I saw you, you were accepted to all the best schools and choosing where to study.”
“And I was totally miserable over it, if you recall.”
Nick looked surprised and I knew that he didn’t recall.
That stung.
“But you must have become a lawyer!”
I propped my hands on my hips. “I must have become a lawyer, because that would be useful to you? Just like I was useful to you before? And the possibility that I might be useful is the only reason you’re here? I’m not a kitchen appliance, Nick!”
“No, Phil, you’ve got it wrong.” His voice dropped low, down to resistance-is-futile-land. “I’m here because I trust you.”
That was tempting, but he said no more and I wasn’t going to fish for the thanks that was long overdue. “I can’t help you this time, Nick. I’m not a lawyer.”
“Phil, that’s nuts. How can you not be a lawyer?”
“I’m not, and even better, it’s all your fault.”
Now, Nick looked irked, and in a way, it was a relief to see his composure slip. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Everyone in your family goes to law school.”
“But you were the one who told me to stop living other people’s dreams and follow my own.” I shrugged. “So, I took your advice.” I pushed open the door and started to follow my briefcase.
His eyes widened. “What?”
“I’m a garden designer.” I smiled. “And a damn good one.”
But if I had expected him to be annoyed by this revelation, I’d bet on the wrong horse. Nick’s frustration faded into admiration, as dizzying a sight as I had ever seen. He smiled at me, as though I’d hung the sun and the moon, then reached out to brush a fingertip across my cheek. The old magic crackled between us, and my face tingled from his touch.
“Good for you,” he whispered.
Nick has always had the most amazing eyes—a perfectly clear green that seemed to slice through your soul and ferret out your secrets. He was looking at me as though I was a new discovery, as tough he had never seen me before, as he was ready to launch a prolonged exploration of my terra incognita.
It wasn’t all bad, as sensations went. I wasn’t the only one who took a step closer.
Just between you and me, I really thought he might kiss me then. Maybe it was that sense that everything was coming up aces as of today, maybe it was the hope of that desperate sixteen-year-old speaking up once more.
And, okay, for a minute there, I let hope out of its cage.
Call it a moment of weakness.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and suddenly I wondered how much he did see. Scary thought. I turned and fumbled with the key, cursing myself for forgetting how perceptive he was, for being dumb enough to let my guard down. I felt the heat of a blush from nipples to hairline.
“Sorry, I can’t help,”
I said quickly.
And I ran.
Well, not exactly ran. More like lunged (or perhaps tripped) across the threshold of my apartment, forced a smile, said goodnight and shut the door on that sharp gaze.
Then I leaned back against the door, considered the crack in the ceiling that I’d been meaning to fix, and felt like an ass.
Everything was jumbled up inside me, but at least I should have held the conviction that I had done the right thing.
I didn’t have any such thing.
I reviewed the bidding. Nick was trouble, everyone had always said so, and though
I hadn’t believed it for the longest time, he’d proven the truth of it to me in the end. It doesn’t come more cheaply than a thank-you, but he hadn’t anted up. I was old enough to know better than to trust him again, old enough to not expect anything different from him, old enough to have learned from my mistakes. I certainly shouldn’t have been charmed by the brush of a warm fingertip.
Which explained, of course, why I felt so mean.
I took a deep breath and crossed to the kitchen. The answering machine light was flashing. Maybe I’d been too hard on ol’ Nick. Maybe he had picked up the phone earlier in the day.
Did I just want to hear his voice again?
Not wanting to go there, I stabbed at the reply button. I rolled my eyes as a familiar, slightly slurred voice filled my kitchen.
It wasn’t Nick.
“Philippa? If you’re there, pick up.” A long pause followed, then mom took a sip and I could guess of what. “Well, I certainly hope you’re not working late again. That’s no way to find a husband, Philippa, all cooped up in that terrible office of yours. And what an area it’s in. Surely you could have found something more posh, something with affluent neighbors where you might be seen... Oh! Maybe you’re on a date tonight.”
Mom’s voice warmed in a most predictable way. I leaned against the counter and pinched the bridge of my nose. So maybe my life had two familiar theme songs, both of which grated on my nerves.
“Now wouldn’t that be a wonderful surprise. Does he have money? Did he take you somewhere nice? I want to hear all the details. I certainly hope he comes from a good family, Philippa, for you do have less discrimination than any young woman I’ve ever known.”
Mom’s voice rose slightly and she settled in for a rant. The woman could fill my tape from start to finish, just ruminating through my endless potential and considerable list of shortfalls.
“Which is probably why you’re not on a date at all!” She exhaled indignantly. “You’re probably gallivanting around with that partner of yours.”
I’ve always wanted to know how to gallivant. It sounds like fun. My mother would not seem to be the kind of person who would really know.
She was right about Elaine, though. Elaine probably wrote the book on gallivanting. I’d have to ask for instruction.
“That Elaine is a tart, Philippa, the worst kind of trash and you’ll never find a decent prospect while you consort with the likes of her...”
I hit the stop button. “She’s my friend,” I firmly told the machine, which was just about as effective as telling that to my mother and a lot less stressful. I rewound the tape without listening to the rest of the lecture.
Maybe my life was a bit thin in the romantic department. Maybe parting badly with Nick once didn’t mean we should part badly again.
Maybe I’m the world’s heavyweight champion sucker.
But maybe I owed him something, both for the years of friendship we had shared and for giving me the courage to buck my family’s expectations. Maybe I was curious as to why he had come back, let alone thought that he needed a lawyer. And maybe I could help him. Osmosis, you know. I’ve picked up a lot of legal guck, albeit unwillingly, over the years.
I rubbed my fingertips over that glowing spot on my cheek. Maybe it was all just a rationalization to have my own Dream Date Ken look at me one more time as though I was the most gorgeous woman alive.
S, sue me.
I was all thumbs with the dead bolt, but finally opened the door and shouted into the night, neighbors be damned. “Five minutes and not a second more!”
He hadn’t gone far, not quite a block. The streetlight silhouetted Nick with yellow light as he turned slowly to face me. I had a sense that I surprised him—for once—and it made me cheeky.
I tapped my watch. “Get it in gear, Sullivan. I’m already counting.”
I saw his grin flash and felt a giddy rush that had nothing to do with champagne. He strode back to the door with startling speed and caught my hand in his before I could step away.
His eyes shone and I could smell the tang of his cologne. Oh, it was a good one. My toes curled in my shoes and my heart went pit-a-pat. He pressed a fleeting kiss to my knuckles like an old-fashioned courtier.
“I owe you big for this, Phil,” he murmured in that black velvet voice and I felt drunk all over again.
Chapter Two
I was thinking that this hadn’t been a really four-star idea, after all. Lady Luck had her limits after all—or maybe it was more accurate to say that I wasn’t too sure of mine. I put on the kettle and surreptitiously rubbed my tingling knuckles, stealing a glance at Nick through my lashes as he took off his leather jacket.
Yum.
Naturally, I couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say. If there’s a jarring little fact of life that I could do without, it’s that people from your past can send you straight back there just by crossing your field of vision. Maybe it’s worse for people like me who’ve deliberately traveled a long way away from their past, who’ve redefined themselves and their lives. Maybe not.
It is annoying, though.
And it’s the reason why I had left Rosemount with nary a backward glance. Who wants to be a plump, unpopular and uncertain teenager again? Not me. Been there, done that and burned the evidence. Encountering people from Rosemount High puts me right back in Fat Philippa’s skin. There’s a lot of it to spare, but the view doesn’t much suit me these days.
It never did really.
But it’s tough to put distance between the kid you were and the woman you want to be when every five minutes someone is commenting on how far you’ve got to go. So, I left Rosemount and I only go back when it’s absolutely necessary.
Which is a little too often.
This flashback backlash was a hundred times worse with Nick, the closest I had come to having a friend in high school. The “dynamic duo”, he used to call us, but we really were the “outsiders”. I was fat and he was short—and he was bad blood, to boot, as well as a comparative newcomer. Which of course was why I deliberately befriended him in the first place.
Once a sucker, always a sucker.
But now he was in my kitchen, an incongruity if ever there had been one. Nick hung his jacket over the back of his chair, then stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. He was wearing jeans and suede desert boots, a teal green T-shirt that clung to his muscles and ensured I had no doubt how truly magnificent a male specimen he was.
Funny, I never realized how warm that kitchen could be. I resolved to talk to the landlord about the heating being too high. Nick practically filled the room, which suddenly looked very feminine and too small for two people.
I fussed with the teapot and remembered when he had suddenly grown taller. Really suddenly and really tall. He must have sprouted a foot and a half in a year. And whenever someone asked, he had explained, absolute deadpan: “The return policy expired, so Lucia decided to feed us after all.”
Probably half of Rosemount believed him. It was too easy to imagine that the boys’ grandmother and reluctant guardian would have declined to feed them.
According to rumor, she hadn’t, after all, been thrilled to take them in.
“Dragon Lady” Lucia was the subject of a tremendous quantity of discussion in Rosemount. In fact, if she ever moved away, gossip would completely dry up—or at least, cease to flourish as it
currently did. And her neighbor, Mrs. Donnelly, would lose pre-eminent status among the gossipmongers.
Lucia was supposed to be a witch, or rumored to at least have the Evil Eye. She obviously didn’t give a damn what anyone said about her. She had been known to spin around and shout “boo” at children who boldly dared each other to follow her. That would be more funny if she hadn’t scared the living crap out of me more than once.
When there was nothing else to fiddle with, I kicked off my heels as though I was much more comfortable in Nick’s presence than I was, and chucked my suit jacket over the back of a chair. I didn’t sit down, but leaned back against the counter, supposedly waiting for the kettle to boil.
I caught him checking out my legs and was so snared in my Fat Philippa past that I was shocked at his obvious appreciation. I turned back to the kettle, well aware that he was still looking.
“You’ve changed, Phil.”
“It’s been a long time.” I had a hard time catching my breath, but tapped my watch. “Time’s a-wasting.”
“Yeah.” He drew a line on the tabletop with his thumb, giving me the sense that he was trying to hide something from me.
That would have been a first.
I opted to help, all the better to get him on his way before I forgot everything I was supposed to remember about him. “So, why did you come back?”
“Lucia invited me.”
“I thought you weren’t speaking.” Events of all those years past hovered at the periphery of our conversation but neither of us were ready to talk about that.
“We weren’t.” His lips twisted, his expression revealing his inexplicable affection for the old babe. He had always been nuts about her, though God only knew why. “Not that such details would stop Lucia from having her say.”
Then he tapped a finger on the table. “But she didn’t have a chance to tell me what she wanted, Phil.” He looked up, his gaze bright. “She was dead when I got to the house.”
Third Time Lucky: Volume 1 (The Coxwells) Page 3
