Nick set a silver knife and a fork on a filled plate and handed it to her, then took his own and stretched his legs out in front of him.
He leaned back against the thick, rough bark of the tree, letting the Indian-summer sun warm his face. He looked so relaxed here, away from everyone, Halley thought. So free and comfortable.
“You were right, Nick.”
“Oh?”
“About coming here. It’s wonderful. We do know each other as lots of different people, barons and contessas and librarians. Some are real, some aren’t. And it’s nice to get away from all that.”
His hand covered her knee. “Agreed.”
Halley brushed her hair behind her ear and looked at Nick intently. As much as she enjoyed being with him, she realized how little she really knew about him. She knew only the surface kinds of things, really, that and what her emotions told her.
His fingers curled around her leg and squeezed her playfully. “What do you think, my love?”
Halley was swept away by the tantalizing feeling and looked at him unflinchingly. “I think you’ve discovered a lot about me these past days.”
Nick continued to rub her skin gently. “That, Halley Finnegan, is an understatement. Besides the more delicious things, such as the incredibly sensuous way you kiss, I’ve learned—”
“Seriously, Nick. You know me pretty much for what I am. Halley Finnegan, librarian. Large, openly affectionate family. Plain, ordinary childhood. Stubborn streak. Messy apartment. Crazy friends. I still know you as the Baron. Is that who you want me to know?”
He shrugged and continued to eat his salad.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” He looked at her, his deep eyes filled with teasing innocence.
“Nick! Sometimes you’re exasperating.” She wrapped her arms around her bent legs and rested her chin on her knees. “I want to know more about Nick Harrington. What kind of a kid you were. What mischief you got into. What kind of cookies your mother baked for you when you were nine. That sort of thing. You know, whether you ever skipped school—”
“Did you?”
“What?”
“Skip school.”
She laughed, her gaze skimming the tops of the trees in the distance as she remembered. “Only once. All the students and teachers went to daily Mass before classes began, and one day Rosie and I were coming back from Holy Communion and we had the sudden urge to keep going, right out the back of church and down the street. We went to Pop’s garage, and he took us out to lunch. Mom stayed mad at him for three days, a record for her.” Halley took a bite of bread, then paused. “Damn you, Nick!”
He leaned his head to one side. “Halley, such an outburst! And from a librarian?”
“You’ve done it again.” She narrowed her eyes and punched him lightly on the shoulder.
“Done what?”
“You switched things around on me. Now stop it! Listen to what I’m saying, Nick.” Her voice sounded stern, but he found her smile enticing. “Tell me, did your mother ever get mad at your dad like mine did when I skipped school? Did you like college? What is your favorite book? Who was the most important person in your life while you were growing up?” She paused, then added teasingly, “And have you always hung around libraries for kicks?”
Nick slipped off her glasses and gently pressed one finger against her lips. “Shh. I once read that people who wear glasses don’t talk as much if you remove them.”
“Hah! An old wives’ tale, if I ever heard one!”
There were sparks of irritation and amusement mixing together and lighting her eyes with starlike flecks of gold. Nick thought it was as lovely as any constellation he’d ever seen. “I see there is a touch of Irish temper beneath those gentle curves.”
“Back to the subject—”
Nick considered her carefully. There were many things he already liked about Halley Finnegan. This was a new one that he hadn’t considered before. She did want to know those things about him. She didn’t care about his banks or his money or his Mayflower ancestors. She wanted to know who he was. It made him uncomfortable and touched his heart at the same time. But when he rubbed a finger along her cheek and began to answer, he was smiling.
“Okay, I give up. Yes, I skipped school. Lots of times. In all four of the boarding schools I went to. No, my dad never took me to lunch when I did it. I don’t know if my parents argued; I never heard them if they did. One of my nannies baked me cookies; I don’t remember what kind. Her name was Jessie, and she stayed with us the longest—nearly two years, I think.”
“Nanny?” Halley asked softly.
Nick laughed at her expression. “Don’t look so distraught. Some people are raised by mothers, some by nannies.”
“Were they … nice?”
“Nice enough. Some more so than others. Ironsides was a bit of a burden, but she didn’t last long.”
Halley managed a smile at the triumphant look on his face, and she imagined a young Nick Harrington besting the nanny-dragon and sending her on her way.
“And your parents?”
“My parents were nice people, I think. I often wish I could have gotten to know them better. They raised me the best way they knew how, which was the way they were raised—sort of by remote control.”
Halley’s face had turned so utterly sad that Nick inched over and put an arm around her for comfort. “It’s all right, Halley. Really it is.”
Halley looked up into his eyes and wanted to hug him—for several years, maybe—to fill in the hollows she was sure were there beneath that polished, strong front. “My family, Halley, was nothing like yours, but that doesn’t make it good or bad. My folks both died when I was in college,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“That’s why you’re so close to Sylvia and Herb.”
He nodded. “They assumed responsibility, although I was already an adult and didn’t really need their help. I’m very fond of them.” He drew Halley closer and whispered into the mass of silky hair pressing against his cheek. “And I’m very fond of you too.”
“My family must overwhelm you,” she said around the growing lump in her throat.
Nick leaned back again and sipped his wine. “I guess they do a little, at that. It’s that informal, relaxed kind of loving they do that amazes me. Perhaps I don’t understand it.”
“What’s to understand, Nick? Love is love. That’s simply our way of showing it.”
It was just that simple for her, Nick could see, but sometimes it wasn’t really simple for him at all. He wasn’t at all sure how to explain that to Halley, so he kept silent.
“Between nannies and now, Nick. Tell me about that time in your life.” She nestled closer, and as she pressed against him, he stiffened slightly.
Nick looked off toward the hills, then rubbed his fingers up and down her back. His voice was low and hesitant. “Not much to tell, Halley. School, finance courses, and then the family banking business.”
“I—I suppose a business like that can soak up years of your life,” she said. He’d carefully put a distance there, stretched it out fine and firm between them. For a brief moment Halley felt sad and alone, but she quickly brushed the feeling away. Nonsense, Finnegan, she scolded herself. Sometimes she came on like a Mack truck. The man needed a little space, that was all, and the day was far too gorgeous to ruin because of fragile feelings. Smiling brightly, she lifted herself onto her knees and began folding napkins and piling up the plates. “You provided lunch, kind sir. I’ll take care of the cleanup.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “Leave it. We only have a short time left. Let’s walk.”
She smiled in agreement, eager to slip back into the comfortable closeness they’d shared earlier, and with their arms looped around each other’s waists, they wandered through a nest of wildflowers and down the gentle bank to the lake. Their bodies touched with a new familiarity, and their minds were busy with the emotions that had gone unspoken but were weaving a gentle web
around them. The distance may have been all in her mind, Halley decided. At least for now that’s how she was determined to see it.
“It’s so peaceful,” she said, her head filled with the lovely day and her heart filled with Nick Harrington.
Nick nodded and pulled her closer, and he could feel her body warmth seep into him through his arms, his hips, everywhere their bodies touched. Her lush, ripe curves were a tantalizing delight just beneath his fingertips, and he felt he could walk forever like this. Just he and Halley, and brilliant splashes of sunshine showing them the way.
When they spoke, the conversation was light and pleasant, about things that didn’t matter. It was enough that they were there together, hips rubbing gently and hearts reaching out.
When they circled the small lake and ended up back at the picnic spot, they both felt inexplicably sad that they had to leave.
“We should have brought a Frisbee,” Halley said.
“Next time,” Nick said, knowing for certain he wanted there to be a next time.
They piled the china and crystal glasses and napkins back into the elegant hamper, and as Halley bent over to close it, she laughed out loud. “Oh, Nick—”
“Oh, Nick, what?”
“You left the price tag on your hamper.”
Nick spotted the small white tag and tore it off the handle. “So much for impressing you with my casual, spontaneous picnic attempt.” He lowered his head and kissed her lightly just above the ear. “The truth is out.”
“But it was spontaneous—and very, very lovely.” She lifted her palm to his cheek. “And I’m duly impressed, Nick. Thank you.” Lifting herself on tiptoe, she kissed him slowly, loving being there with him, loving the day and the quiet of the park. It was Halley and Nick, and she no longer felt the awkwardness of the masquerade. Right now, for this special moment, nothing on earth mattered but the two of them.
Nick’s hands lifted to nestle in her hair, and he moaned softly beneath her kiss.
“I’ll go on a picnic with you any day,” she whispered as she pulled away.
“Is that a promise?” Nick held her there for a long moment, his dark eyes asking for far more than picnics.
A familiar rush of warmth fanned out between her legs before burrowing down inside her. “Nick,” she whispered softly, “is crab salad an aphrodisiac?” His husky laughter tickled her neck, and she pressed her cheek against his shoulder.
“Nope. It’s you and me, that’s all.”
“Strange,” she murmured.
“But very, very nice.” He picked up the basket and led her to the car. They drove slowly back to town, the day a sweet memory between them.
“Halley,” Nick said as they reached the stone gates to the Thorne Estate. “I have a bunch of business details to attend to tomorrow, and tomorrow night I want to see some friends who live a few miles away.” Mostly he wanted to see Halley, but for reasons he couldn’t quite come to grips with yet, he wanted to stop by to see the Melroses. Needed to do that. It was a new need, and it felt strangely comfortable and right. He strongly suspected that Halley was the reason he suddenly wanted to attend to his life connections, but he didn’t wish to subject the whole thing to analysis. Not yet, anyway. He’d simply go with the feelings, spend more time out at the Melroses’ place, and see what happened.
Halley nodded. “That’s okay, Nick. I know you have a life beyond the walls of the Thorne Estate Library.” She knew it but found it difficult to think about.
“Will you miss me?” He stopped the car at the bottom of the steps.
Halley blushed and pulled her glasses out of her purse.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Go for the glasses when you don’t want to answer me.”
She slipped them on and laughed lightly, then pushed down on the door handle. “Now that’s not true at all, Nick. I fully intend to answer you. I just want to see you.”
Nick reached over and held the door secure while he waited. His eyes sparkled with laughter. “Okay. Say it. Tell me you’ll miss me.”
Halley tilted her head to one side and smiled calmly. “All right. Yes, I’ll miss you. I’ve become very used to having you around, Nick Harrington, though I can’t imagine why. So I’ll miss you. There, I’ve said it.” He was still holding on to her door, and his face was close to hers—close enough, she thought vaguely, to kiss if she was so inclined.
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?”
“I mean, aren’t you going to try to convince me to stop by, even for just a moment or two?”
Halley feigned an irritated expression. “No. I’ve survived a day without food before, I’m sure I can manage this somehow …” Her voice grew softer as she noticed a slight mist on her glasses.
His smile moved closer.
“Oh,” she murmured.
“Mmmm,” he said.
When his lips slanted hungrily across hers, and his hand heatedly caressed her cheek, Halley felt a rush of tender passion that convinced her, no matter what Nick said, that there must have been something in that crab salad.
Seven
Halley walked down the back steps of the library the next afternoon and watched the groups of parents and elderly citizens gathering around the gazebo. Friday. The busiest day of the week, and she was wandering around like a spoiled princess getting nothing done.
Nick might as well have come, she thought as she automatically picked up a piece of paper littering the ground and shoved it in her pocket. His presence was as real to her as he would have been if she could reach out and feel the wonderful, muscular bulk of him. It wasn’t enough that she truly did miss seeing him. The images of Nick that filled her mind were confusing and passionate and disconnected and wonderful all at the same time. What was it about him that sent off warning signals? He was so right … and so wrong. Yin and yang. She had no idea why, but she knew one thing: It wasn’t what was said that was causing the alarms but what wasn’t said.
“Halley,” Archie called from the gazebo, “it’s time to proceed.”
“Coming in a minute, Archie. Start without me and I’ll catch up,” she called back, and hurried around the corner of the massive building to drop the waste-paper in the trash can. In her dazed state she’d almost forgotten that it was the last Friday of the month—Community Day. Archie planned special games for the young kids, which the older folks loved watching, and he always included some kind of a special treat. Today it was to be a lesson in gravestone rubbings out at the old cemetery, and she’d promised him she would show up for part of it.
“Hello.”
Halley yelped like a frightened puppy and dropped the handful of paper to the ground.
“Halley, Halley.” Nick held her gently by the shoulders. “I didn’t take you for the nervous sort. It’s only me.”
“Nick,” she managed feebly, a flush of embarrassment coating her neck. “I … well, it’s a bit like seeing a ghost. Or having a thought suddenly jump out of your mind and look you in the eye—”
“You were thinking of me?” Pleased laughter spilled from his black eyes.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, hedging.
“No, and I can only stay one hour. I forgot to ask you something yesterday, so I came by do to it today.”
“It must be something momentous to require an hour,” she said teasingly.
“Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
His hands were still on her shoulders, and Halley felt the gentle heat of his touch begin to circle through her. “Dinner? That sounds very nice, Nick.”
“Good. It’s kind of a family affair. I’d like to show you off.”
Halley gulped, then pulled off her glasses. “There’s even more, isn’t there? That’s why you saved a whole hour to ask me—”
“No.” Nick laughed, and when it rumbled up from deep in his throat, Halley could feel it in her fingertips. “Absolutely not. I saved a
n hour because I have an hour—wedged in between work and visiting the Melroses—and there’s nowhere I’d rather spend my hour than right here with you.”
Halley smiled softly. “Oh. Well, that’s nice, Nick.” Beyond his shoulder she spotted Archie’s group heading for the cemetery. “But as much as I’d like to, I can’t, Nick. I promised Archie …” She pointed toward the group of people disappearing beyond the rise in the distance.
“No problem. I’ll come too. It wouldn’t be my first choice of places to spend a valued sixty minutes with you, but I’ll settle for what I can get.”
His arm went around her shoulder naturally, and just as naturally Halley lifted her hand and wound her fingers lightly in his where they rested near her neck. “Lead the way,” he whispered into the loose strands of her hair that rubbed against his cheek.
They headed across the yard at a leisurely pace, intending to catch up but reluctant to hurry.
“What’s up with Archie?” Nick asked as they walked beneath the tangled branches of ancient elm trees.
“Archie is about to give the Friday Community Club—which is a loose assortment of people between the ages of five and eighty-five who happen to be free on the last Friday of each month—a lesson in gravestone rubbing.”
“Hmm.” Nick considered her words. “The only rubbing I can imagine, Halley, is something I’d like to do with you.”
Halley swung her hip playfully into his. “This is serious business, Harrington. Shape up now.”
“May I wait until we get there?” His fingers slipped from hers and walked down across the slight rise of her breast.
“Nick!” Halley said, but no reprimand found its way into the hushed exclamation.
The clipped rhythm of small feet running across crisp leaves separated them in an instant.
“Well, hi, Mickey!” Halley said, brushing her hair off her cheek and calming the fleet of unleashed butterflies in her stomach.
The small boy ran up and happily wedged himself between them. “I’m late, Aunt Halley. You too! Hi, Nick,” he added shyly.
“Hello, Mickey,” Nick said.
The youngster grinned up at Nick, then reached instinctively for his hand.
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