Jesus, Zora. You’re in public. Get ahold of yourself.
I came back to myself just in time to realize Nick had asked me something. I looked askance between him and Samantha, searching for context clues.
“Tour.” Nick’s mouth twitched, those clever evergreen eyes alight as though he guessed at the illicit thoughts cycling through my head. “I asked if you’d had one.”
Samantha looked between us, a new line between her brows.
“Oh.” It was, for some reason, a difficult question to answer. Forcibly, I suppressed my lurid thoughts and concentrated. “No.”
“All right.” Nick’s hand went to his pockets as he rocked back on his heels.
“Why?”
“Why don’t I take you on a short tour?”
“Uh . . . okay.”
“Great.” He inclined his head, indicating I should follow him, and I complied. I got one last glimpse of Samantha’s blank stare as we turned the corner.
“So,” I began, mentally kicking myself and my need to fill the silence. “This is a great office.”
Nick looked back at me as we made our way down the hall. Raised, excited voices sounded behind the conference room door I’d just exited a few moments prior.
“Our trainings are pretty interactive,” I said by way of explanation for the loud chatter, examining the framed photos interspersed along the walls. Some appeared to be staff photos, while others were early press releases chronicling Nick’s accomplishments. I paused in my progress, peering closely at a picture of a young, smiling Nick. His arm was thrown around the shoulders of another man with an equally wide grin. They stood at the front desk we’d just left, under the Rocket Enterprises sign.
“That’s Eddie Holt. My partner.”
Nick stood beside me, his gaze trained on the picture. His arm brushed mine and something like static ran up my arm. Keeping my face straight, I noted the intensity of his gaze, the tension in his folded arms. Had something happened with his partner?
“It looks like a beautiful moment. You both must have been so proud.”
He nodded, not taking his eyes off the photo. “We’d just opened this, our second location. Our first office is in San Francisco. I’d argued with him about the cost. I didn’t think making such a big expenditure here was a wise move at our early stage of growth.”
I scrutinized his strong profile, the tight purse to his full lips. “So what convinced you?”
He shook his head, half-laughing. “Eddie did. Said it would pay for itself, that it would be a drop in the bucket compared to what we were about to bring in.” He nodded to himself. “And he was right.”
“I’m glad you had the benefit of a partner. I can only imagine how lonely it would have been otherwise, managing those kinds of difficult decisions alone, without the counsel of someone you trust.”
“I do trust him,” Nick said quietly, as if to himself. “He’s one of the few people I trust completely. Him and my aunt Nan.”
“Sounds like you would do well to listen to them, then.”
He faced me suddenly, his vivid eyes startlingly bright in his tanned, slightly ruddy complexion as they searched mine. “Maybe you’re right.”
This close, I scented the familiar, unique essence of him. He smelled like clean skin, sandalwood, and betrayal.
Get a grip, Zora. You can’t trust this man, not ever again.
I blinked at the intensity of his gaze, and then he turned. “C’mon.”
His arm briefly extended in my direction and his hand brushed against mine for the barest moment.
I followed in his wake, my fingers tingling from the brief contact of his hand against my skin.
He narrated our progress, explaining the purposes of smaller administrative offices and larger suites, until we came to the mouth of a hallway facing two large sets of double doors.
Nameplates indicated that Nick’s office was to the left of his partner’s. He quickly keyed in a code and pushed in the door, revealing a massive space that rivaled the first floor of my house in size. The massive desk one would expect occupied one corner, with a separate meeting area and bartender’s cart.
But it was the view that stole my breath and left me wide-eyed. Gingerly, I made my way to the floor-to-ceiling window, hypnotized by the streets of Manhattan so far below, the cars and people reduced to tiny specs, everything ant-sized from this vantage point.
“This is amazing.” I breathed, unable to tear my gaze away.
“It is, isn’t it?” His tone seemed bemused. I caught his reflection behind me in the glass, slowly advancing.
“My first time in here, I don’t think I was able to speak for a whole minute.”
“You’ve come a long way from Green Valley.”
“Some days I think so. Others . . .”
I snuck a glance to the side, where Nick leaned against this desk.
This version of Nick wasn’t at all what I expected, not from reading about him and not from our recent encounters. I’d been distracted, I realized, busy reacting to him and the circumstances that brought us together. But in this unguarded moment, observing his tense perusal of the skyline, I was aware of a heaviness, a burden. Even in the midst of his stunning accomplishments, it was clear he was dissatisfied and unsettled. He was conflicting layers of pride and arrogance . . . and angst. Reflecting light in public, absorbing sullen darkness in private.
Affection and warmth I hadn’t imagined could still exist for this man swamped me. He’d obviously worked so hard to put behind the boy, the young man, he’d once been. But watching him now, I still saw that boy I’d known almost all of my life and all the fierce longing and determination that had always been a part of him.
“I’m proud of you,” I said, realizing my own self-preservation was somehow at stake as I said it. But I wanted—no, needed—him to hear it. I wanted the statement, the veracity of it, to reach him wherever he was.
He let out a breath and slowly straightened from the desk.
“Thank you, Z.”
I held my breath as he continued toward me, towering over me when he finally came to a stop. I fought the urge to step back from the heat of his body and all the danger he represented. “But I want you to know, I would give it all up if I could turn back the hands of time. If I could find a way to go back so that we were never separated.”
I averted my face, teeth tightly clenched, fighting to stem rising frustration.
He was the one who left. What kind of cop-out was that? It had been in his power to keep his mouth off that redhead. What had stopped him from picking up a phone? Writing a letter? Sending a carrier pigeon?
This supposed regret? I couldn’t buy it. And from the look on his face, he believed what he was saying, which ratcheted up my anger by several hundred degrees.
You have to help him, accommodate him as the hospital’s new partner. For your own good. Keep it together.
Maybe he really did think some cosmic force kept us apart. That it wasn’t just him, wanting to pursue a new love while his old one sat waiting to hear from him.
“I’m proud of you, too, Zora. More than you know. Things didn’t quite turn out the way we thought they would. But you? What you’ve accomplished, your research, the way you help people? It’s nothing short of amazing. I’m blown away by all that you’ve built, and how much your work obviously means to the hospital.”
Maybe this was the moment Leigh thought I needed. Maybe this was what “closure” looked like. Maybe it wasn’t about excavating through all the misdeeds and misremembering until you hit the truth, but more so about telling each other what you needed to hear to keep limping along in life.
And maybe, just maybe, things between us had ended exactly as they should.
Had we stayed together, would he have made these strides? Become what he is today? Would I be the same person or have pursued the same path? Maybe it just hadn’t been meant to be. Maybe we just hadn’t been meant to be.
Perhaps it was just time to acce
pt that.
“I’m beginning to think our paths followed the course fate determined for us, Nick. It’s likely that, in the end, that was for the best.”
Chapter Twelve
Zora
“Cinderella! You’re finally ditching your commercial pumpkin to fly in a private coach? Thank God you came to your senses.”
Adesola grinned from her seat aboard Nick’s private plane, wineglass in hand, as I boarded the small plane.
I was not at my best and fighting to climb out of an abysmal mood. My interaction with Nick had kicked off an endless cycle of rumination that poisoned any chance at a decent night of rest. I’d finally caught the thinnest current of sleep but woke up after several hours of tossing and turning to discover I’d overslept.
“I missed my flight,” I groused. “I didn’t have much of choice. I was going to take the next flight out, but Nick’s coordinator happened to call and she said he hadn’t left yet, so . . .”
“So, you’re slumming it back with us.” Adesola made a show of leaning back into the cushion of the seat and let out a throaty purr of pleasure. “Good for you! You know, that’s the benefit of flying private. Travel is arranged around your schedule and not the other way around.”
“Listen to you. You sound like you’ve been doing this all your life.” Carry-on in hand, I surveyed the opulence of the plane’s off-white interior: the sleek lines, the rows of paired white leather seats, the rounded windows easily three times larger than the commercial variety.
Good Lord. This was how Nick lived, how he traveled.
“This is crazy,” I said, casting another bewildered look around.
Adesola grinned again and made a show of tossing the dark fall of her hair over one shoulder. “It is crazy, but I’ve decided I’m worth it. I’ve just got to figure out how I’m going to travel like this from now on.” She took a sip of her wine. “You missed out not flying with us here. We had a ball and I really enjoyed getting to know Nick. He’s a great guy. Funny how you never mentioned him after all this time.”
I shrugged off the weight of gathering irritation. Sure he is. He’s a real prince. “What, I should tell you about all my childhood friends?” I settled my purse and carry-on bag across the aisle from her and ran a lazy hand over the armrest. The leather was silk-soft with the give of melted butter. I had a feeling this would be a much more pleasant experience than the cramped coach seat I’d purchased aboard the flight I missed.
A glossy, perfectly-groomed flight attendant appeared from the back of the plane to greet me and inquire about my drink preferences. I’d assured her I only wanted water, lamented we couldn’t lace it with tranquilizers, and was utterly charmed by her beatific smile. She quickly took possession of my carry-on after I removed the personal items I needed during the flight.
“I like his style. These seats recline, you know. We just have to wait until after liftoff. Listen, can we please keep him?” She peered at me over the rim of her glass, her eyes slitted and sly.
I frowned, unable to follow her logic. “What are you smoking? What do you mean, ‘keep him’?”
Her voice lowered to a whisper as she leaned across the aisle toward me. “The man is clearly crazy about you.”
“He’s crazy about what our curriculum will do to help his company’s bottom line.”
“Nope. It’s you. I see it in the way he’s always watching you, the way he always seems eager to touch you, even when it’s for the slightest thing.” She shook her head, studying the contents of her gently sloshing wine. “You can see the . . . heat in his eyes when he looks at you.”
“Sounds like you’re describing heartburn.”
“I know you don’t believe that. I think he’s a really great guy.”
I yanked my headphones out of my travel pouch with more force than was probably necessary. “Do you? All it took was a private flight to convince you of that, huh?”
“Of course, it’s not just the flight. I love talking to him. He’s so passionate about what he does. I love hearing his creative ideas about creating easy pathways to health care for the people who desperately need it. And I will admit, this is one of the sweetest consulting fees I’ve ever gotten. That didn’t hurt. The fee he paid for a one-day workshop with two motivated docs? I call it a win. Let me show you the shoes I’m buying this weekend.”
I settled into my seat, trying not to gasp out loud from the glory of the plush seat absorbing me into its soft embrace. Suddenly, I remembered just how tired I was. Maybe I’d finally get restful sleep, even if only for the duration of this flight. It’d been a long week.
Nick, along with the supervising clinicians, had taken us to a fancy steakhouse in midtown the previous night after our training. He and Adesola had kept up a steady banter about the state of health care and the rising cost of pharmaceuticals. They’d debated various health reform plans, all while sawing into aged steaks and downing vodka tonics. I hadn’t contributed much, and had been too distracted to take up the thread of tepid conversation offered by the supervising clinicians. I’d been unable to break free from my own compulsive, sleep-hazed loop of thoughts, which demanded to know if I was a coward or passive for not forcing the issue of Nick’s disappearance and the Coffee Shop Kiss.
Was it mature to ignore the issue, to bury my own feelings in the name of moving on? Or was that avoidant behavior?
And did it matter, in the end? The guy was only here because he had a product to sell. That was the only reason why he’d come back. Pressing the issue just made me needy, right?
See? Someone, please, turn my brain off.
“Look at these.” Adesola thrusted her phone across the aisle. I squinted to make out an admittedly gorgeous pair of crystal-studded heels with the iconic red bottoms. I peered more closely at the caption at the bottom and yelped. “You’re going to spend almost four grand on these? Where are you wearing them?”
Adesola gave me the dark, mischievous smile that somehow curled the ends of her lips and signaled the arrival of something naughty. “I like them. And maybe I don’t plan on wearing them anywhere. Shoes like these, darling, aren’t meant for walking. They’re meant to be draped over your man’s back. You should get a pair and try it. Oh, hello, Nick.”
I jumped, dropping my Kindle in the process.
Sure enough, Nick stood at the entrance to the plane, silhouetted by a halo of bright sunshine. He was casual in jeans and a plain black T-shirt, gripping a carry-on bag in one hand and holding a newspaper tucked under one well-formed arm. He lifted an eyebrow at me.
I threw a horrified glance at Adesola and saw her sly, feline grin grow as she greeted Nick.
There was no way he missed what she’d said.
I aimed a warning look at her, but she ignored me. We both knew what she’d done, and that she’d done it on purpose.
She’d somehow gotten it into her head that Nick and I would be perfect together and hadn’t stopped dropping little hints. And now, a bigger one. I didn’t miss the light that flared in her eyes when Nick advanced toward me, so close his leg touched mine as he stood in the aisle.
Damn, he was tall, especially in a plane this small.
He stared down at me with a small little smile, saying nothing. I looked back, silent, determined not to fill the air with all the nervous energy running through me.
“Hi,” he said finally, his voice gravelly. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Hey,” I returned, neck craned to take in the darkening stubble on his neck, the deeper shadows under his eyes. His hair had endured a marathon of tugging and raking, I deduced as I took in the wild, unkempt strands. He braced a hand against the compartment above, his shirt rising just enough to allow my eyes to play peek-a-boo with the dark whorls of hair on his tightly muscled stomach. God, when had he gotten that hairy? Was he that hairy everywhere? Did he have one of those delightful happy trails? And why the hell was it turning me on?
I realized I hadn’t done a good job of schooling my wayward eyes when his
smile evaporated. Something hot and dangerous entered his expression.
“Heard you missed your flight. This is an unexpected treat.” His gaze took a lazy course down my seated body, flicked back to my chest, and stayed. “I like it.”
“Huh?” Dear God, I sound like an idiot.
He gestured to my chest with his head. “Your shirt. I like it.”
I glanced down. I’d never been one to dress up for a flight. My twin loved to harangue me about it, always going on and on about “the least I could do.” Well, today I’d done the absolute least. I wore a pair of dark joggers and athletic shoes. The halves of my cable-knit sweater had fallen apart to reveal a pink shirt that said . . . Oh. It said, “Nevertheless, She Persisted.” Now that I thought about it, it might have taken too many turns in the dryer. Maybe it was a little too snug. Jesus.
Heat stung my cheeks as I met his gaze again. He appeared to be fighting back a smile.
I squared my shoulders. “Yep. I like it too.”
Who knows how much longer we’d have stared at each other, silently, if Adesola hadn’t piped from behind him, her voice overly loud in the cabin of the small plane.
“Hi, Nick!”
He turned, appearing startled. “Dr. Rojas, hi.”
I half-listened as they politely chatted about the previous evening and how she’d slept.
And then he was suddenly back in my space, passing in front of me and settling in the seat next to me.
“Uh. You’re sitting here?”
He busied himself with pulling an iPad and red folder out of his bag. “That okay?”
No. “Sure.”
Been There Done That Page 14
