* * *
“AUDREY, I DON’T know how to fix this.” Noah couldn’t sit still. He wandered around the flower shop like a caged panther.
“You could always apologize.”
He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Already did. She didn’t accept it.”
Audrey whistled. “She’s really mad. Why wouldn’t she be? You didn’t support her when she needed it most.”
“I was trying to get her to be reasonable.”
Audrey’s look of horror was almost comical. “You didn’t say that to her, did you?”
“No. I was trying to defuse the situation. It was pretty damn tense in the Accord house this morning.”
“But why try to defuse it by getting Monica to change her stance? Why not Marcie?”
He stared at her.
“Why was it so important to you to shape what Monica thought? To change her? Because she was the rich one all of her life and Marcie the poor one? Is that why you sided with Marcie? Why didn’t you get Marcie to change what she wanted? You always side with the poor and feel disdain for the rich. Monica doesn’t deserve that.”
“My God.” Noah continued to stare. “It’s scary how perceptive you are, Audrey. I mean, it’s like you know me better than I know myself.”
“You know all of this, Noah. You just won’t admit it to yourself because you think you’re so fair. You try, I know you do, but you are as capable of bias as the rest of us.”
Noah raised his hands to scrub his beard before remembering it was no longer there.
“About that, Noah.” Audrey pointed to his face. “Why did you shave and cut off your ponytail?”
“Monica thinks it will help us make more money at the fund-raiser. And I thought I should get some sun on my skin first.”
“You’ve had a beard since you were a teenager. How do you feel about it being gone?”
“Honestly?”
She watched him with her enormous eyes. “Of course.”
“I want it back. I feel naked.”
“It’s a big part of who you are. That was quite a concession to make.”
He rubbed his face. “Yeah. I guess that’s what relationships are all about. Compromise. I need to make it up to Monica for not supporting her today.”
Audrey came around the counter and hugged him. “Go home and think some more about this, but tomorrow, grovel.”
* * *
THE FOLLOWING MORNING Monica put in her two hours at the farm before work, as promised, but she operated by rote, half of her dead and the other half still in shock.
She avoided Noah, actively walked away every time he approached.
How had everything gone so wrong?
Was she just jealous? Yes, to a certain extent, she was jealous—jealous that he had taken her sister’s side. But that wasn’t all of it. Why couldn’t he see that Marcie was driven and frantic?
At lunchtime, she stepped out of the gallery to head to the café and ran smack-dab into Noah. For God’s sake, was the man everywhere?
“Hi,” he said. “I missed you this morning.”
She frowned. “I was there. I know you saw me.”
“No, I mean I missed you. I know you were there physically, but I’ve grown used to—” He glanced away. Noah, shy? That didn’t seem possible. “I like how we flirt. I like to know where you’ve put your perfume. I like our lovemaking.”
“Me, too. It’s the most fun I’ve had since Billy died.”
His brows shot up and he smiled, slowly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” How could the man do this to her, make her like him even when she was angry with him? “But, and this is a big but, I feel betrayed by you.”
“Aw, don’t say that. I hate that I did that to you.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I told Audrey everything. She set me straight. Boy, did she set me straight. She said I needed to have more faith in you and your abilities. She said I should respect your evaluation of the situation, and of your sister. She was right.”
Monica only nodded. She wasn’t sure she was ready to forgive him. She would share a bit, though. “I haven’t given up on the charity bash. I’ve been talking to John Spade and he’s going to try to reason with my dad.”
Noah stepped closer and touched her jawline. “You would still work on it even after I’ve been such a fool?”
“Yes, Noah, I’ll still work on it, if things can be worked out with Dad.”
“I’ll talk to him, too.”
“Okay, but do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Talk to him when Marcie isn’t around. She has a strange hold on him. It’s his guilt—she seems to be able to use it against him.”
“Do you honestly think she’s that bad?”
“Not bad, no. I don’t believe she’s evil, but I do think she feels so aggrieved that she’s prepared to do anything to get what she wants.”
That finger still rested on her jawline and she liked it too much. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Monica. I’ll be careful how I approach your dad. Will you be at the farm tomorrow morning?”
“Yes.”
“Can we go back to how things were? I’ve really come to like having you on my farm.”
“I really like being there, Noah. I’ll see what I can do.”
She brushed past him and walked away, but he called out, “Where was it today?”
She answered, “You’ll find out tomorrow,” and walked on, bathing in the luxury of his laugh.
* * *
SHE DROVE TO the farm the following morning, lost in thought. Noah was one of the best things that had happened to her in years. He’d given back to her the happiness she’d lost with Billy’s death.
Now that her temper had cooled, she realized that Marcie had succeeded in driving a wedge between her and Noah. Maybe not intentionally, but it had happened nonetheless. Marcie had managed to destroy something valuable in Monica’s life and Monica had let her. The heck with that. She wanted Noah back.
Noah had shown poor judgment, but he’d also apologized.
In hopes of catching him before he got out into the fields, she was super early this morning. It was still a bit dark.
One light shone in the living room.
Shoving open his front door, she barreled in, hell-bent on taking what she wanted in life.
He was in the living room, standing in front of his armchair with a book in his hand, intelligent brow furrowed in concentration, red hair warmed by the yellow glow of a table lamp. When he saw who had barged into his home, he relaxed, until he saw the determination on her face.
“Monica!” His frown turned to a smile and then to a look of consternation. “Monica?”
She strode across the aging carpet until she stood six inches away from the big brainy hunk, tenderness for him running through her veins like sap. No way was she letting her sister ruin this.
“What are you doing here so early?”
“This.”
She took his face in her hands and planted her lips on his mouth, pressing her body against him. Oh, sweet heaven, he felt incredible, hot and lean, his stringy muscles hard beneath her hands. She’d missed him. It had only been two days yet she had missed his body, his mouth and his arms.
She kissed him for all she was worth.
He opened his lips and her tongue poked through, dueling with his, two swords at play, but no wounding. God, no. Only joy.
Joy!
She reveled in the heat that poured from him, both from his body and from his passion. His good arm snapped around her, locking like an iron band across her back.
They stopped kissing. She pulled back far enough to look into his warm green eyes.
“Ah, Noah,” she
whispered. “You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
He grinned and picked her up.
She squealed.
“It seems that you don’t, either.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“To bed. Okay?”
“Noah, that is so-o-o-o okay.”
* * *
THE DAY OF the barbecue arrived.
Noah stood under one of the party tents in a rented tuxedo that fit him perfectly, but left him uncomfortable.
Monica had insisted on the tux, even though the event was starting early, in late afternoon.
Weeks later, he still hadn’t gotten used to being clean-shaven. He felt naked, too exposed. He liked his hair. He liked his beard.
Things had been going well with Monica, beautifully, and he was crazy about her, but standing here left him feeling like a different person, not like himself.
He’d gone through this with women before, women who’d wanted to clean him up, to make him presentable.
Sure, there was a reason tonight, the fund-raiser, but would his appearance really have been a detriment? Would it truly have affected donations?
He watched Monica work the crowd in her soft, flowing dark blue dress with the large matching sun hat, her bare arms strong and tanned. She was happy and looked younger than her thirty-eight years. On her feet were a pair of high-heeled sandals, nothing more than thin strips of leather, probably bad for her spine. He couldn’t complain. They made her legs look a mile long.
She was the star here, not him.
“She sure fits in here, doesn’t she?”
Noah glanced down. Marcie had joined him.
“Yes,” he answered. “She sure does.” That fact left him wondering about their future. Were the differences in their backgrounds too massive to be overcome? He certainly didn’t fit in here and doubted his ability, or desire, to learn to.
Miserable, and looking for a distraction from his blue funk, he turned his attention to Marcie.
“How did the planning go?”
She shrugged. “Not bad. I hired the students who are serving today and organized the buses to bring them here and return them home.”
“Hey, that’s great.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, and I liked making the jewelry for the auction. There have been a ton of bids on it. Some of these rich people have even shown interest and have taken business cards. Monica convinced me to have a bunch printed up in time for this shindig.”
“That was wise of her.”
“Yeah, it was.”
Alerted by something in her voice, he asked, “What’s going on in that devious brain of yours? Monica facilitated helping you get clients for your business venture. She gave you a role here today.”
She snorted. “Yeah, as a glorified sheepherder.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m supposed to be herding the students, making sure they’re keeping everyone happy, and that glasses and plates are never empty.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I wanted more.”
“You always do.”
Her glance sharp and unhappy, she asked, in a tone just as sharp, “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you have a whole world more than you’ve ever had in your life and you still don’t seem happy. At some point, you’ll have to accept that enough is enough.”
She stared at him, her perfect beautiful face so like Monica’s, but troubled. “Enough? Is there such a thing?”
“That’s the problem for you, isn’t it? Will whatever you are given, or can take, be enough to satisfy you?”
He walked away. Marcie had to find her own happiness in this world.
Uncomfortable in his monkey suit, missing his beard and itchy with a foreboding he couldn’t identify, he drifted aimlessly around the party, present but not truly a part of it.
The past kept intruding on the glitzy present. He’d been involved with this kind of affair before and it hadn’t ended well.
Stop. This isn’t New Orleans and Monica isn’t anything like Deirdre.
His thoughts spun. He’d avoided this kind of shindig, as Marcie had called it, for years, because the associations for him were bad.
Only now did he realize that while he’d been enjoying love with Monica, and while he’d been caught up in her excitement organizing this event, anxiety had been building, festering inside of him like a malignant tumor.
Stop! For God’s sake, give it a rest. Don’t mistake today for the past.
He didn’t want to be here, and didn’t want to be doing this. It raised too many negative emotions he’d thought he’d buried—obviously not. All he had done was hidden them, or hidden from them.
Antsy, he needed to get out of here, to hobnob with normal people.
Did he and Monica have such vastly different lives that they would never find common ground? Were they destined to always miss each other, as the old saying went, like two ships passing in the night?
* * *
MONICA WATCHED NOAH from across the room.
Who knew that under all of that hair there was such a handsome face? She still couldn’t get used to him looking like this. She liked it, but loved his long hair and beard, too.
Despite how busy she was, Monica’s gaze had been drawn to him, time and again.
The past couple of weeks, once they’d kissed and made up, had been blissful. She couldn’t remember ever being happier.
The joy of getting up every morning to nurture growing plants, the pleasure of kissing Noah whenever she wanted to, the ecstasy of lovemaking unlike anything she’d ever experienced—how could life possibly get any better?
The event was an unqualified success. Even though it was only four in the afternoon, guests mingled in their tuxes and long gowns, buying meals of sliders and fries at a hundred dollars a pop, and they loved everything.
Marcie had done a good job organizing and transporting a bunch of high school kids from Accord into Denver, and whoever else wanted to make money serving. They were all busy delivering meals and collecting dirty plates.
Kayla Keil passed with a full tray of champagne flutes, jaunty in her black pants and crisp white blouse. “Awesome event, Monica,” she whispered, then approached a group with the drinks.
Monica caught Noah staring at her. He came over, took her hand and dragged her through the building and to the parking lot, where the normal people, as he called them, and the homeless noshed on steak and baked potatoes with all of the trimmings.
Everyone gave what they could afford, and she and Noah watched people donate anywhere from a buck to fifty dollars, many of the attendees coming to Noah to introduce themselves.
“Love the work you do, man.”
“This is the best fund-raiser I’ve ever been to.”
“I work at a soup kitchen and we’ve always appreciated your produce.”
Monica couldn’t have been more proud of Noah, or so she thought, until a man with rheumy eyes, wearing rags and pulling a ragged old shopping buggy with squeaky wheels, came to stand in front of Noah.
Noah shook his hand as though they were old friends. “Ray, I haven’t seen you since last fall. How are you?”
“Not too good. Arthritis and diabetes are bad, but I can’t complain. Got myself a girlfriend. She takes care of me real good.”
A woman approached, her clothes not much better than Ray’s rags, but her smile was sweet, if a little vacant.
“This is Ruth,” Ray said.
Noah shook her hand then introduced Monica. She shook their hands, too.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Ray’s wink was saucy. Traces of the young, handsome man he must have once been lingered in that wink.
Noah looked down at her and
held her hand, but there was something lurking there that Monica couldn’t put her finger on. Her unease cleared up when he said, “Yes, Ray. Yes, she is.”
Ray whistled. “You’re some lucky man.”
“Ray, you and Ruth find a good spot to sit and we’ll get you a couple of meals. On the house. You want coffee or soda?”
“Yes.”
Noah didn’t skip a beat. “Coffee and soda coming up. Double cream and sugar, right?”
“You got it. Same for Ruthie.”
He took Monica over to the line of grills and fixed up a couple of plates, really loading them, while Monica put together a plastic tray of hot and cold drinks.
They left it all with Ray and Ruth, who were childlike in their contentment.
“You’re a good man, Noah Cameron.” Monica cuddled close to his side.
“You’re not so bad yourself. You did a stellar job today.” He wrapped his right arm across her shoulders. “Did things work out with your dad?”
“We came to an uneasy alliance. He’s here and doing his part, so I’m grateful for that, but his support has been grudging at best. Same with Marcie. We tried to work things out, but...” She spread her hands and shrugged.
Noah glanced away, taking in the entirety of the view before him. “I don’t think this event could have been any more successful.”
“You might be right. I was really blessed with all of the amazing support. The Denver ladies got all of these people out. The Colantonios did an incredible job. They’ve even set aside a whole bunch of sliders in a fridge inside for all of the helpers. As soon as this ends at seven, they’ll all sit down to eat.”
“We’ll eat then, too. Okay?”
“Yes. See you in that sweet little gazebo at the back of the property at seven. Okay?”
As it turned out, Monica didn’t make it on time because too many of their posh guests lingered after the event, even while the staff finished cleaning around them and then sat down to eat.
It seemed that everyone had had so much fun they didn’t want to leave.
After the last guest departed, Monica slipped indoors to a private room in which she’d left a bag with a change of clothes. She couldn’t wait to get out of these heels. Her feet were killing her.
Safe in Noah's Arms Page 25
