by Irene Hannon
“Yeah. You had a nightmare,” he said quietly. “I wanted to be close in case it happened again.”
She studied his eyes—dark, intense and filled with integrity. He seemed too good to be real, and she reached over and tentatively touched the angled planes of his face. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and she watched as the smoldering sparks of passion in his eyes burst into flame. Alarmed, she tried to draw her hand away, not wanting to create false expectations. But he held her fast, his fingers tightening on her wrist.
“Laura?” his voice was gentle, his eyes probing. “What is it?”
“I—I’d really like it if you would just hold me,” she said, so quietly he had to lean close to hear. “But that’s not fair to you. I can see that…I mean, you want more and right now…I can’t promise that.”
He placed his fingers against her lips, and her eyes searched his. “Sweetheart, if being held is what you need now, that’s what I’ll give. Okay?”
Her head nodded jerkily, and he eased her back on the bed, then stretched out beside her, carefully gathering her soft, bruised body into his arms. It was some minutes before he felt her tension ease, and then he brushed his cheek against her hair. “Better?” he asked.
“Yes. But, Nick…I know this isn’t enough for you.”
“It’s enough,” he assured her. But then he added a qualification. “For now.”
Chapter Eleven
The persistent ringing of the phone slowly penetrated Laura’s consciousness. Tenderly cradled in Nick’s arms, feeling utterly safe and content, she had drifted off to sleep. When the ringing of the bedside phone continued, she opened her eyes and glanced up questioningly. “Nick?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“The phone’s ringing.”
“I know.”
“Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But it might be something important.”
“It’s probably just the office.”
The ringing stopped, and Laura’s eyes grew wide. “The office! What are you doing home? Shouldn’t you have been at work hours ago?”
“Normally, yes,” he replied mildly.
“So?”
“The past eighteen hours haven’t exactly been normal,” he reminded her wryly.
“No, I suppose not,” she conceded. “But I’ll be okay here. You don’t have to baby-sit.”
“Work can wait,” he insisted.
Suddenly the phone rang again, and Nick glanced at it in irritation. But Laura also saw the concern in his eyes, and she nudged him with her shoulder. “Go ahead. This will drive you crazy.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I guess so.” He reached over to pick up the receiver. “Jack? I told you this morning, we’ll have to postpone it. I’m not leaving Laura today.” Silence, while he absently continued to stroke her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but you don’t need me for the presentation.” Silence again. “Look, just cover for me. Tell him…I don’t know, tell him anything.”
Laura frowned. Nick obviously had a commitment, apparently an important one. The thought that he was willing to forgo it on her behalf filled her with a warm glow, but at the same time, she’d struggled long enough herself to know that it was never wise to upset a client.
“Nick,” she whispered.
He glanced down. “Jack, hang on a second.” Depressing the mute button, he reached down to stroke her cheek, his brusque, businesslike tone of moments before suddenly gentled. “What is it, honey?”
“Go to your meeting. It sounds important.”
“You’re more important,” he insisted.
She smiled her thanks, but shook her head. “I’ll feel guilty if you don’t go. There’s no sense in both of us falling behind, and I’ll be fine.” She could see the flicker of indecision in his eyes, and with a determined smile she gently eased herself away from the warmth of his body and swung her feet to the floor, trying not to wince at the sudden pain in her side. Carefully she stood, and by the time she turned back to him her features were placid. “Come on, you’ll be late,” she urged lightly.
Nick hesitated a fraction of a second longer and then released the mute button, glancing at his watch. “Okay, Jack, I’ll be there. But not until one-thirty. That will give us time to look over the presentation and make sure we’re in sync before Andrews arrives… Yeah, I know.”
Nick replaced the receiver and stood, facing Laura across the bed. “I hate to leave you,” he said with simple honesty.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him again. “And you’ll be back.”
“You can count on that. And as soon as possible,” he said huskily. Laura felt the warmth creep up her cheeks at his tone and glanced down, tugging self-consciously at the brief hem of the pajama top she wore. Nick cleared his throat. “Do you need anything from your apartment? I could stop by on the way back.”
“Other than my toothbrush, I think I’m okay for another day. Except…do you have an old shirt or something with buttons I could borrow? I’d rather not put that thing on again,” she said, gesturing distastefully toward the discarded surgical top.
“I’m sure I can find something. And I may even have a spare toothbrush.” He returned triumphantly a few moments later with the latter item, still cellophane enclosed, and quickly riffled through his closet. “Will this work?” he asked, withdrawing a striped cotton shirt.
“Perfect. I’ll just roll up the sleeves and it will be fine.”
“Can you get dressed on your own?”
“I think so. But I’d like to take a shower first.”
Nick nodded. “I’ll put some fresh towels out for you and come back in a few minutes.”
It took Laura a lot longer to shower than she expected. First, a glance in the mirror over the sink made her stop in midstride, alarmed at the extent of the damage. She looked terrible. Her nose wasn’t too bad—just slightly puffy—but the purple-and-red eye, still half-swollen shut, made up for it. She wished she had some makeup, but she doubted whether anything would be able to disguise the discolored area. She’d barely come to grips with the appearance of her battered face when she’d been shocked by the huge, ugly blue-black swath of skin splayed over her ribs. It had made her momentarily queasy, and she’d forced herself to take a few deep breaths, telling herself that she was okay, that the bruise would eventually fade. But no wonder she hurt so much!
Carefully she stepped into the shower, adjusting the water temperature before turning on the spray. The sudden force of water against her ribs, however, made her gasp in pain, and she quickly angled away from the spray, shielding her side. Nick had been right about her going to work today, she admitted. She was in no shape to sit at a desk, let alone visit the job sites. Just the exertion of taking a shower had drained her. But the warm spray felt good, and she let it massage her body with its soothing caress.
At last, Laura reluctantly turned off the water and toweled herself dry, carefully avoiding the injured areas. She dressed slowly, easing the jeans over her legs, grimacing as she bent to pull them up. The voluminous shirt was easier, and as she slipped her arms into the sleeves she caught the unique scent that she had come to associate with Nick—warm, vibrant, slightly spicy…and very masculine. For a moment she buried her face in its folds, wistfully inhaling the essence. Then with a sigh she slipped it over her head.
Laura pulled a comb from her purse and carefully worked the tangles out of her wet, tousled hair. By the time she finished it was almost dry, hanging loose and long, with a few stray tendrils curling around her face.
“Laura, are you okay?” Nick’s soft knock and worried voice came through the door.
“I’m fine. I’ll be right out,” she called. After neatly folding the wet towels and placing them on the edge of the tub, she picked up her purse and opened the door.
Nick’s perceptive eyes swept over her. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. The shower helped.”
He grinned and folded his arms, til
ting his head as he looked at her. “You know, that shirt looks a whole lot better on you than it ever did on me,” he said.
“It’s a little big,” she said, a smile hovering around the corners of her mouth.
“Big is in. It’s a very attractive look.”
Laura shrugged. “I don’t feel very attractive,” she admitted.
If any other woman had said that to him, Nick would have assumed she was angling for a compliment. With Laura, the remark had been artless and without pretense. He moved toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Sweetheart, you are the most irresistible woman I’ve ever known,” he said huskily. And then he lightened his tone. “Even with that shiner.”
Laura looked up at him in surprise, suddenly realizing that he’d been using terms of endearment ever since last night. They seemed to come so naturally to him, and had sounded so natural to her, that it had taken all this time for the fact to register. Before she could evaluate its significance, however, he was leading her out the door.
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook, but you can’t afford to skip any more meals and I didn’t want you to have to fix anything yourself,” he said over his shoulder. “I hope this is at least palatable.”
He stepped aside when they reached the loft, where a tray rested on the coffee table in front of the now-made-up sofa sleeper. Laura’s eyes grew wide. It wasn’t so much the contents—scrambled eggs, toast, an orange that had been carefully peeled and separated into chunks, a steaming cup of coffee—but the thoughtfulness of the gesture that stirred her heart. Her throat constricted with emotion, and when she turned to Nick the warmth in her unguarded eyes made him catch his breath. “Nick, I… After all you’ve already done, this makes me feel so…” She gestured helplessly.
He grinned, inordinately pleased by her response, and took her hand, steering her toward the sofa. “Don’t say anything else until you’ve tasted it,” he warned teasingly. He settled her comfortably and then glanced at his watch. “Do you mind if I get dressed while you eat?”
“No, of course not.”
By the time she’d finished the last bite of what she would always remember as one of the best meals of her life, Nick reappeared, dressed in a lightweight charcoal gray suit, crisp white shirt and paisley tie. He smiled when he saw the empty plate. “Well, I guess it wasn’t too bad. Or else you were starved.” When she started to speak, he held up his hand. “No, don’t tell me which. I prefer to keep my illusions.”
Laura smiled. “Thank you,” she said simply.
His expression grew suddenly serious and he sat down beside her, grasping her hand as he studied her eyes. “Laura, are you sure you’ll be all right? I can still stay if you want me to.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him again. “I took the pill you left on the tray, and I already feel very relaxed and sleepy. I’m just going to nap this afternoon, and it makes no sense for you to sit around and miss an important appointment while I sleep.”
Nick bowed to the logic of her argument. “Okay. But I’ll be back early—no later than five. Do you like Chinese food?”
“Love it.”
“I’ll pick some up on the way home.” He stood, taking the tray with him.
“Oh, Nick, let me take care of that,” she protested.
“No way. You’re not to lift a finger today. Promise me that, or I’m not leaving.”
She shook her head. “You really do have a one-track mind.”
“Promise?” he persisted.
“Promise,” she agreed.
Laura’s day went almost exactly as predicted. She took a few minutes to explore Nick’s condo, admiring his spare but tasteful and obviously expensive furnishings. The cathedral-ceilinged living room, overlooked by the loft, featured a two-story wall of glass that offered a restful view of the wooded common ground. She peeked into his office, impressed by its neatness, and through the window she glimpsed what looked like a clubhouse and swimming pool. Compared to this, her apartment really was the pits, she thought. No wonder he had remarked on the neighborhood a few weeks ago. And rightly so, she thought wryly, wincing at the twinge in her side as she turned.
After a quick call to Sam, who was shocked by the mugging but clearly pleased by Nick’s attentiveness and concern, Laura took another pill and lay down. Within minutes she was asleep.
The sound of Nick’s voice calling from downstairs awakened her later in the afternoon, and by the time she had oriented herself and was struggling to sit up, he appeared in the doorway, his jacket already discarded, his face a mask of concern. He moved beside her immediately, his intense, dark eyes critically examining her. For a moment he hesitated, and then he reached over and touched his lips to her forehead. “I’d like to give you a better hello, but that’s about the only spot I know of that isn’t bruised,” he said huskily, brushing her hair back from her face as he spoke.
Laura smiled hesitantly. “My lips are okay,” she said softly.
Nick’s momentary surprise was quickly followed by a pleased chuckle, and the deep, throaty sound of it sent a hot wave of desire crashing over her. “Are you saying you’d like to be kissed?” he asked with a smile.
She swallowed. “Only if it’s what you want.”
“Oh, I want,” he said huskily, and the ardent light in his eyes left little doubt about his wants. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”
Laura’s mouth went dry. Already her lips were throbbing in anticipation of his touch. “We’ll be careful,” she whispered.
Nick gave up the fight. He’d told himself she was in no shape, physically or emotionally, for intimacy right now. He’d told himself that he would keep his hands off until she was stronger. He’d told himself that she wasn’t herself, that the trauma of the previous night could make her needy in ways she would later regret. But he was only human, after all. And the tender, welcoming look in her eyes was too much for him. With a soft groan he lowered his lips to hers, gently nipping at their pliant fullness, until her mouth stirred sweetly beneath his. He felt her shudder as he tasted the warm sweetness of her mouth, and her response nearly undid him. Gently he lowered her to the bed and stretched out beside her, cradling her head in his hands, his fingers lost in the thick fullness of her hair. How he’d waited for this moment, to have her close to him. His lips left hers, moving down to her neck, and she arched her throat for his touch, breathing heavily. Her arms clung to him, urging him closer. Nick let one hand travel downward until it rested lightly at her waist. Laura was so lost in the magic of his touch that it took her a moment to realize that his hand was gently but firmly tugging her shirt free.
Laura knew where this was leading, knew she was breaking every rule she’d ever made about allowing any man to get close to her again, knew that it went against everything she believed about casual intimacy. And yet she seemed powerless to stop what was happening. When Nick had appeared in the doorway tonight she’d had no plan to initiate this embrace. But he’d looked so wonderful standing there, so dear and so handsome and so very special. And she was very grateful for all he’d done for her. Yet she was honest enough to admit that gratitude wasn’t the only explanation for her behavior. Last night had been like déjà vu, a bad dream come again to life, awakening old memories and old pain. Today she felt vulnerable, needy, scared—aching physically and emotionally. Nick, with his gentle touch and caring concern, could make her fears and pain disappear, at least for a little while. Her Christian faith put strict limits on intimacy outside of marriage, and she knew she was pushing those limits. Tomorrow she’d probably be sorry. But for now, she needed to be held, to be cared for and protected, to bask in the warmth of his caresses.
Laura felt her shirt being pulled free, felt his hand hesitate briefly at her waist before sliding slowly up her back. The warmth of his fingers against her bare skin made her sigh. “Oh, Nick,” she breathed, her own fingers kneading his hard, muscled shoulders. He urged her closer, his lips once more capturing hers with an urgency that stole her b
reath away.
It was her sudden, sharp intake of breath that stilled his hands and made him draw back. Her face had gone white and tears glimmered in her eyes. “Nick…I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly. “My side… I forgot…”
Her voice trailed off at the stricken look on Nick’s face. “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, cradling her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?”
“It’s okay. It just…surprised me. It doesn’t hurt now.” She wanted to smooth out the deep creases that had appeared on his brow, ease the sudden tension in his jaw, erase the self-recrimination in his eyes.
“I told myself not to touch you. I knew better,” he said angrily.
“Nick, it’s my fault. I—I more or less asked you to.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not thinking straight. You’re probably half out of your mind in pain and you’re doped up on those high-powered pills. Laura, let me take a look, okay? I promise not to hurt you. I just want to make sure I didn’t do any more damage.”
Laura knew he needed to reassure himself, so she nodded silently. With utmost care he pulled up her shirt-tail, sucking in his breath at the bruise that extended from her breastbone to the bottom of her rib cage. “Dear God, it looks worse than yesterday,” he declared in dismay.
“Bruises usually do,” she said lightly, easing the shirt back down. “But it will fade, Nick.”
“No thanks to me.”
“Nick, I’m okay. And hungry. Where’s that Chinese food you promised me?” she asked, trying to divert his attention.
For the rest of the evening he treated her like spun glass, helping her up and down the steps, getting a cushion for the back of her chair while they ate, wrapping an afghan around her before they settled in to watch an old movie on video that he’d brought home.
When he tucked her in for the night, gently pressing a chaste kiss on her forehead, Laura smiled. “You’d make a good mother,” she joked gently.
“Laura, believe me, my feelings for you are anything but motherly,” he said with an intensity that left no doubt about exactly what his feelings were. “My restraint is the result of sheer terror. I never want to hurt you, sweetheart, and if touching you hurts at the moment, I won’t touch. The important thing right now is for you to heal.”
