Midnight Hour

by Debra Dixon

  In the wee hours of the morning, Mercy turned over to snuggle closer to Nick, who slept peacefully beside her and adjusted for her body, never waking. Mercy smiled, knowing it must be raining. Nick actually slept when it rained, real sleep, restful sleep. Contentedly, Mercy closed her eyes, intending to drift back to sleep until she realized that it wasn’t raining. Not a drop. She stayed awake the rest of the night guarding his sleep and feeling incredibly powerful. The man who didn’t sleep was sleeping in her bed. She felt as if she’d been given an incredible gift.

  As D day approached, Witch got rounder and rounder. Mercy and Nick placed bets on exactly when she’d explode. Between their schedules, they made sure one of them was at home all the time during the last few days. Just in case.

  Freshly showered, Nick leaned on the door facing Mercy’s living room, noting the subtle changes that had taken place in his life during the last two weeks. For one thing, his apartment was nothing more than a place to hang his hat now that an antiquated house in Haunt, Kentucky, was home. His collection of tools was growing in direct proportion to the number of fix-it-yourself projects he had completed, and a few of his old jerseys had somehow found their way into Mercy’s possession.

  The gold-colored jersey she wore at the moment said GATOR BAIT in deep green letters on the front and BAYOU GRILL in blood red on the back.

  There were other changes too. Like becoming a pseudo-father. After pacing nervously for the better part of two days, Witch had finally delivered her puppies. Most of the furniture had been shoved back to make room for a large whelping box, from which incredibly loud suckling noises were emanating.

  Mercy, wearing only his shirt, perched on the edge of the sheet-covered navy-striped sofa as she leaned over to peek at the nine, newly arrived, plump black puppies. Occasionally, the contented suckling noises were interrupted by a complaint from a disgruntled puppy who’d fallen off a nipple and couldn’t find it again. Cocking his head to listen more closely, Nick could hear a faint umm-umm-umm noise escalating from a grunt to a cry. Efficiently, Mercy reached over the box and pointed the wailing puppy in the proper direction.

  Mercy was an authority on the latest in accepted canine delivery procedures. At least on paper. However, Nick handled the actual whelping, due to his previous experience in delivering babies. Not that his experience stopped Mercy from hovering nervously during the whole process, offering advice, and reading aloud from what seemed like an endless supply of books on how to whelp puppies.

  Finally, Nick had had to sit her down and tell her point-blank that she was beginning to make Witch nervous. He’d heard couples say that if you could survive wallpapering without killing each other, then nothing could tear you apart. Nick thought whelping puppies was right up there with wallpapering as the acid test of a relationship.

  Once the puppies had arrived, he’d barely been able to talk Mercy into leaving them long enough to shower. Right now, as she watched mother and puppies resting peacefully, Mercy’s expression was positively maternal. Nick thought the expression looked good on her. As he pushed away from the frame he asked, “I thought I’d find you here. Are you gonna to sit there all day?”

  Noticing him, Mercy smiled and crooked her finger. “They’ve gained weight just in the time we’ve been gone. I swear. Come see.” Mercy patted the sofa before gazing back down at the puppies. “Mother Nature sure knew what she was doing with this baby business.”

  “I thought one of your rules was no children.”

  Mercy looked up, startled. “I never said that. As I recall, that was one of your sweeping assumptions.”

  “So, children are okay with you?” Nick queried, an odd light in his dark eyes.

  “Yes. Why?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Curiosity.”

  “Killed the cat,” she told him.

  Planting a firm kiss on her mouth, Nick slid down on the sofa and told her, “If I’m going to die, then I have to know one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you put on a bra with that tux jacket you’re so fond of wearing on the show? The one that’s cut down to here.” He touched her abdomen in the general vicinity of her belly button.

  She primly swatted his hand away while getting up. “My tux jacket is not cut down to there. You know, Nick, you seem to have this thing about women’s underwear.”

  “Only yours, chère. Only yours.” With a quick tug, Nick pulled her off balance, tumbled her back onto the sofa, her legs landing in his lap and her rump on the cushion beside him. Nick fingered the edge of the gold jersey before he slipped his hand beneath it. “And right now, yours is in my way.”

  Mercy caught her breath as his hand curled around the elastic of her panties and pulled them down until she could kick them off. The instant softening she felt every time Nick touched her continued to surprise her. Never in her life had she melted simply because a man touched her.

  With calculated slowness, his index finger toyed with the inside of her knee. He could see the muscles in her neck contract as she swallowed. Her thighs parted a fraction of an inch in silent entreaty. Catching and holding her gaze, Nick moved his hand higher on her thigh, toward the soft, dark curls barely revealed by the upturned edge of the jersey. When his fingers pushed through the curls and splayed against her belly, Mercy closed her eyes with a ragged sigh.

  Wanting Nick this much had to be crazy, she told herself, but she couldn’t manage to care. Instead, she slid a leg off his lap and opened her body to him, trusting him to know what she needed. As she opened, the pad of his thumb found the center of her desire, manipulating it and creating tiny pulses of pleasure designed to drive her mad. Too soon her hips were lifting gently with the rhythm of his stokes, and she knew she needed more. She needed the inexplicable satisfaction she got when her body and soul were fused with Nick’s.

  Watching Mercy writhe beneath his touch was incendiary to Nick’s passion. When her back arched, he pulled her up, his pants already open and his arousal free. Mercy straddled his hips, her mouth slightly open as she lowered herself to complete the union.

  Nick shuddered and tried to hold her there by resting the palms of his hands on her hips and molding his fingers around her silky bottom, but she wouldn’t stay still. She squirmed beneath his fingertips, breaking his hold and rising until she held only the tip of his erection inside her, teasing him with tiny plunges that engulfed the tip and inflamed him further. Giving in, Nick pulled her down roughly as he thrust into her, repeating the action again and again until he knew he’d explode.

  Always lost in his arms, Mercy began to quiver. Heat coiled in her womb, threatening to spill through her body, and when it did, she grabbed onto Nick and held tight. A second later she felt him shudder and heard him whisper hoarsely, “Bon Dieu. Merci Dieu!” as the pleasure claimed him too.

  Nick stood outside the door of the complimentary suite the hotel had given Mercy for the evening and remembered the last time he’d gone knocking on a strange door looking for Midnight Mercy. Bracing himself, he waited for her. When she opened the door, his heart actually stopped as something one of the paramedics said came back to him. Nick couldn’t take his eyes off her. He whispered, “Have mercy on my soul.”

  Normally spectacular, Mercy’s body defied description in the curve-hugging dress of dripping black icicles she wore. Miles of leg showed, and the slightest movement made the covering of icicles shimmer like black ice. The only thing remotely demure about the gown was the abbreviated turtleneck collar, which actually served to accentuate her breasts while baring her shoulders and arms completely.

  When she turned to pick up a matching evening bag, Nick cursed. The damn dress was backless. Russet hair rippled and tumbled partway down, but not far enough to reach the sweet spot at the small of her back. Before he recovered from the first shock, he got another. Hell, the dress was practically bottomless too! The hanging icicles made it appear to cover more thigh than the dress really did.

  Nick tugged at his stiff
collar. Tonight was going to be a long night. Midnight and the end of Ghouls’ Nite Out couldn’t come a minute too soon as far as he was concerned.

  “Well,” Mercy said once she had her purse in her hand. “Either you love it or hate it. Which is it?”

  “Both.”

  Laughing, Mercy closed the door and slipped her arm through his. “I could say the same about you. That’s a pretty snazzy European tux you’ve got on.”

  “I’m only following orders. My invitation said black tie and black stalkings.”

  “How odd,” Mercy puzzled as she pushed the elevator button. “I must have read it too quickly. I thought the invitation said black tie and black stockings. How silly of me. I even dug out my one and only garter belt for the occasion.”

  Before Nick could muster a reply, the elevator opened. The people inside recognized her instantly. As she chatted amiably with her public Nick was left to stew in the fantasies created by the woman beside him.

  Twenty minutes later the hotel staff dimmed the lights, and Nick surveyed the prefunction area outside the larger banquet room. Mercy was in constant demand for autographs as she moved through the crowd. Judging from the number of heads whipping around to stare as she walked toward him, Nick would have bet that her dress was the subject of more than one conversation around the room. And rightfully so. The woman could drive a man to drink.

  “Laissez les bons temps rouler,” Nick said, raising his glass of chardonnay as she approached. “Let the good times roll.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Mercy told him flippantly. “You’re not waiting for my parents to walk in and cast a pall over the evening.”

  “Of course I am, chère. I’m on pins and needles waiting for them to ask me what my intentions are toward their lovely daughter.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much. At this point, chances are less than fifty-fifty that they’ll show up to ask you anything.”

  “They’ll show, chère. Else they would’ve called.”

  “No, I’m afraid that’s not how it works in my family.” More resigned than sad, Mercy finally faced the fact that she’d never be more than an afterthought in her parents’ lives. To be perfectly honest, tonight the only face in the crowd she’d tried to find had been Nick’s. He always seemed to know, and he’d turn his head toward her, sharing the moment and a smile.

  Standing next to Nick reminded her that people worth caring about also knew how to care about others. Maybe she was in the market for a man to clutter up her life after all. She walked her fingernails up his lapel. “I can ask you about your intentions toward me if you’re just dying to tell someone.”

  “Too late. Sophie already asked.”

  “And what did you tell her?”

  “Nothing she didn’t already know,” Nick assured her.

  Mercy thumped him on the chest, irritated with his answer. “Well, you were sitting on my porch half-naked. What was she supposed to think?”

  “I don’t think it was my lack of shirt that gave Sophie her ideas. She said it was the look on my face.”

  “You smirked, didn’t you?”

  “Not that I recall. Sophie said I looked like I’d been kicked in the head by a mule.”

  When Mercy’s mouth dropped open, Nick reached over and closed it. “Pull yourself together, chère. Unless I’m totally mistaken about the resemblance, your mother has made her entrance.”

  Mercy whirled. Black icicles flicked rapid fire against Nick’s tux as she turned. Her mother stood alone and observed the crowd like a lazy lioness who was confident of her ability to cut out the weak member of a herd. Raising her hand in a wave, Mercy said to Nick, “Hold on to your hat. Another one bit the dust.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Mother never goes anywhere alone. She chooses men on the basis of their willingness to escort her at the drop of a hat. If Vaughn isn’t with her, I guarantee you, there is trouble in paradise.”

  “Thank the dear Lord that you’re smarter than she is.”

  “About what?”

  As her mother came toward them Nick whispered, “Choosing men.”

  “Mercy! You should thank me for passing on my figure and cheekbones. They look lovely on you.”

  Nick stiffened beside her, and Mercy had to suppress a smile. Meeting her mother was a shock. Even her compliments were self-serving. “Mother. I’d like to introduce you Dr. Nick Devereaux. Nick this is my mother, Dr. Alexandra Stanton.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor,” she said graciously, and offered her hand briefly. “Your specialty?”

  “Emergency. Mercy Hospital.”

  “Ah …” The word was dismissive, as if she found his specialty unworthy of conversation. Turning back to Mercy, she said, “Now, where is that young man you wanted me to meet. Don’t tell me he’s left you already?” She paused almost long enough for Mercy to answer, but not quite. “Vaughn and I are postponing the wedding, you know. Things aren’t … going well.”

  For a moment Mercy was suckered by the hint of sadness in her mother’s eyes and the regret in her voice, but before she could express her sympathy, her mother snapped to attention, all emotion vanished. “Lord, there’s Hank! I’ll be right back. I’ve got a case I’d like to discuss with him. Dr. Devereaux, would you like to join me? No?” As an afterthought, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Save me a seat at dinner, Mercy. I’ll meet the young man then.”

  “Slam, bam, thank you, ma’am,” Nick uttered with a thunderstruck look on his face. “Dieu. Is she always like this?”

  Mercy shook her head. “No. Often she’s worse. At least she remembered I had someone I wanted her to meet even if she didn’t remember the name.”

  “No wonder the woman can’t keep a relationship together. She wouldn’t know an honest, caring emotion if it bit her on the butt—” Nick winced, realizing how rude he sounded. “Sorry. She’s your mother. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  She didn’t answer for a long time, instead watching her mother eagerly talk shop across the room. In the blink of an eye Alexandra could relegate her personal life to second place and concentrate on medicine. The only thing she really cared about. The only thing that had been able to hold her interest over the years.

  “Don’t apologize, Nick. You’re right. About everything. Mother doesn’t choose well. She hasn’t a clue what to look for or how to take care of it when she finds it.”

  Nick cupped the back of her neck with his hand and let his thumb stroke her skin. “You must have gotten all your warmth from your father.”

  Softly, Mercy said, “What father? The one that isn’t here?”

  “I’m here.”

  “I’m glad.” Mercy smiled brightly, realizing that in the last few weeks she’d learned to trust him, to believe in what she saw every day. He cared about people, not just medicine.

  After dinner, Mercy took the stage to thank everyone involved and announced the name of the lucky guest who’d been selected to cohost The Midnight Hour. Once all the commotion subsided, she had intended to deliver a brief dignified speech to reveal that they’d raised almost three hundred thousand dollars after expenses. But when she called Nick on stage to represent the hospital, a couple of the women in the crowd recognized him from the promos and soon had everyone hollering for Nick to kiss her again.

  Astounded by the reaction, Mercy tried to control her laughter. Roars of approval greeted Nick as he played to the crowd by bending Mercy backward in a re-creation of their promo kiss. From that point on, Mercy forgot about everything but Nick. If two thousand people thought they belonged together, who was she to argue?

  Later, in the hotel suite, Mercy forgot everything but the feel of Nick’s body as he covered her, loving her. Nick felt her complete surrender as their passion crested and she clung to him whispering his name as though she’d never let him go.

  Easing away from her, Nick lay back against the pillows and cradled her head against his shoulder. Little by little h
e’d come alive again with Mercy. There wasn’t a doubt about it anymore, Nick told himself. He had marriage on his mind. He wanted to see a ring on her finger and know that he had family again.

  “We’ve reached a crossroads, chère. One of us is going to have to say it first. And I’m willing.”

  “To say what first?” Mercy murmured sleepily as she snuggled closer to his warmth, dropping a kiss on his chest.

  “I love you.”

  ELEVEN

  She stilled immediately, wide-awake, holding her breath, and afraid she’d heard him wrong. “Excuse me?”

  “I … love … you.”

  Mercy pulled out of his arms, dragging the sheet around her and the hair out of her eyes as she searched his face. She wasn’t ready for this. The whole idea of loving Nick, of wanting him as a permanent part of her life, was barely a few hours old. She wasn’t sure she was prepared to say the words.

  “Ah, chère.” Nick shook his head at the stunned and uncertain look on her face. “Do you want me to engrave it in stone before you’ll believe it?”

  “It’d be a start at least,” Mercy told him softly.

  Her answer struck him as fanny, and he laughed incredulously. “And what else would you like? I’ll engrave it in a wedding band, spell it out with rocks, and write it in the sky, if you want.”

  “What I want is exactly what scares me,” Mercy told him. “God knows I want to believe you.”

  “Then believe me. Let me inside your heart, Mercy. All the way this time.”

  Now it was Mercy’s turn to laugh. “There isn’t a woman alive who could keep you out, Nick Devereaux.”

  Nick snatched the sheet away and rolled her beneath him. “Does that mean you love me?”

  “It must,” whispered Mercy, admitting the truth. “Because I’ve never really tried to keep you out.”

  Nick’s lips came down on hers, at once promising and demanding promises. Before Mercy could do more than wrap her arms around his neck, the telephone interrupted them.