"Thank you. You must stop in sometime. I've got a few garments that would look spectacular on you."
Hayley wasn't going to mention that she couldn't afford her prices. "What are you doing here? Nash is gone till—"
"Oh, I know." She stepped back out of sight for a moment, then came back with a white plastic garment bag, emblazoned with her shop's logo, a blue swan. "This is for you." She pressed it into her hands. "And this." She added a large hatbox. "Enjoy," she said, and turned on her heel, moving quickly down the porch to her car.
"I didn't buy anything," Hayley called out.
"There's a card inside the box," the woman said with a private smile as she slipped into her car.
Hayley stared at the package, then at Mary Faith driving away. Closing the door, she went immediately to her room, set the hatbox down and pulled the garment from the bag.
A filmy sage-green chiffon duster lay like a spider web over a silk-beaded sheath dress in the same color. The jacket was long, sheer and crisp. It looked like a cloud wrapping the dress. Hayley loved it. She'd never seen anything so elegant. Quickly she opened the hatbox. Inside was a matching clutch and skimpy delicate heeled sandals. There were stockings and even a bra and a pair of the tiniest sage-green panties inside. Then she saw the card, recognizing Nash's handwriting.
She opened the tiny envelope and read: Come be my belle of the ball.
Hayley sank onto the bed, her eyes burning with tears. Well, dang. How was she supposed to stay mad at him now? She admitted she'd heard of the dance while at the rodeo and had been wondering if he'd attend. She still wanted to smack him for being such a bully last night. He had to learn he couldn't get his way just because he was a man. She looked at the outfit. It was gorgeous, and the elegance of it told her this wasn't just a country dance.
She battled with her pride for about two seconds, then hung the dress on the back of the door and dashed to the bathroom to get cleaned up.
Nash paced the foyer. Hayley didn't answer when he'd knocked on her bedroom door a few minutes ago, and he wondered if she was ever going to come out. At least if she did do it to just holler at him, he'd have a fighting chance.
The sound of her heels on the wood floor brought his head up, and he stopped when the door swung open.
She took his breath away.
The dress fit her like a glove, the chiffon enveloping her in a haze of pale green. And the heeled shoes showed every muscle of her legs in clear definition.
"It's a little short," she said, and he dragged his gaze from her legs.
"You're stunning."
"Thank you." She stepped closer. "Thank you for the outfit."
He eyed her for a second. "You aren't going to yell at me for buying it, are you?"
She shook her head and he sighed, relieved. "You didn't have to bully me, you know."
He groaned. "Ah, honey, I know, but when you keep talking about leaving me, I get so fired up."
"Then let's not talk about it."
His lips thinned and he forced a smile. "Agreed. Let's go."
Outside the sedan was running, and as they walked toward it, she laughed.
Her rubber chicken was firmly ensconced in the grill-work.
Her gaze flew to his. She was deeply touched. "You're not going to be embarrassed?"
"No, ma'am, and Lurlene is in the garage whenever you want her," he said as he held the door for her.
She slipped into the seat and didn't respond until he was in the car. "Good Lord, Nash, what will you do? They'll all think you've developed a sense of humor."
"I have one."
"Yeah, right. Now."
Chuckling, he put the car in gear.
Half an hour later, they pulled up in front of the country club. A valet opened her door, and she glanced at Nash as he handed the man a tip and came to her. He looked good enough to eat, she thought. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, the cut of the jacket boxy and shorter than the normal, and showing off pleated slacks. His white shirt had a band color and he didn't wear a tie, but with his satin vest, low slung and fitted, and that black cowboy hat, he looked more like a gentleman gunslinger than the owner of the oldest plantation in the area. They walked through the doors and handed the hat to a checker.
Music filled the air, and they moved through the wide-open doors into the ballroom.
Heads turned, and Nash smiled privately and proudly to himself. She stopped men in her tracks and she didn't even notice, he thought. She was too busy looking at all the activity. He introduced her around a little, then brought them to their table.
Hayley had never seen anything so beautiful and tried not to gawk. Chandeliers glittered overhead, and the walls and doorways were draped in foamy white tulle and berry-colored flowers. The tables were covered in berry-colored cloths, stark white flowers accenting the vibrant hue. Waiters moved through the clusters, and people danced and dined. China clinked and corks popped. The entire ballroom sparkled like a diamond, and Hayley felt like a princess on Nash's arm.
He smiled down at her.
"Just a little ol' country dance, huh?" she said.
"It gets more elaborate every year. The first time I attended I was a teenager and there was sawdust on the floor."
He didn't give her time to sit, taking her handbag and leaving it at their table before he pulled her onto the dance floor.
"I've wanted to hold you all day."
"Funny. You wanted to brain me yesterday."
"I've seen the error of my ways. Forgive me?"
She cocked her head. "I seem to be doing that a lot lately."
He smiled. He was hoping for years of her forgiveness, since he knew he'd screw up again soon enough.
They danced slowly, Nash pulling her closer with each step. He could feel her shape in the thin dress, her soft form burning through his clothes. His body reacted and his slacks offered little barrier. She felt it, a tiny moan escaping her, but she didn't step back.
"Oh, my, Nashville." She felt empowered by the feel of his groin swelling against her.
He bent to whisper in her ear. "Was there any doubt I wanted you, sprite?" His voice had a husky seductive pitch. "In my life and in my bed."
* * *
Nine
« ^ »
Hot sensation rippled through her and she gripped him a little more tightly.
"Nash, stop teasing me," she moaned.
He swung her effortlessly around the dance floor, and close to her ear he whispered, "I mean business, darlin'. And if we weren't in public I'd have you out of that sweet little dress and being shameless with me."
"Please don't talk like that. I can't … it's just that…"
Nash gazed down into her soulful brown eyes and saw her reservations there as much as he heard them in her voice. "You've got to trust somebody sometime, honey. Just be with me, Hayley. Like there is no tomorrow. No," he said when she tried to speak. "I know there is, but let the worries go. Now is all that counts."
Now. Oh, she wanted much more than a few moments with him, and yet she could only nod, the heat in his eyes and the warmth of his touch fogging her mind. The music slowed to a soft samba, and his hips took on a life of their own.
"You're getting nasty," she said when he shifted his hips against her.
"I'm dancing, can't you tell?"
He was being his old seductive self, she thought. She never knew a man who aroused her the way Nash did. He only had to look at her, and her body called out to his. When he touched her, it screamed for him, and worse than fighting her desire for him was remembering what an incredible lover he was.
The music slowed and he brought her deeper into his arms. She was glad he was a good dancer and a great lead, because she'd have fallen all over her feet if he kept staring at her like that. His eyes seemed darker, hotter, and they dragged over her as if they had the power of touch. Her breath quickened. Oh, how she wished they were alone right now.
"Everyone's asking about you," he said.
"And wh
at did you say?"
"That you're Dr. Hayley Albright and you're with me."
Somehow she knew he'd said a little more than that, and her heart did a quick dive and hop. "Nash." Her hand slid to the nape of his neck, toying with his hair. He made a soft groaning sound she remembered well, and as he ducked his head, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her mouth, anticipation engulfed her. "This is rather public." Yet she rose up on tiptoe.
"Do it anyway."
Her lips met his and he kissed her softly, holding back the passion that drove through him whenever he was near her, whenever he touched her. She trembled against him, her lips worrying his and he felt her restraint. He reveled in it.
She pulled back, breathless, her eyes glazed. "People are staring."
"We could always take this home." Nash arched a brow, the invitation unmistakable.
Uncertainly swept over her and she knew what he was asking, knew what she wanted. It was a step she wasn't sure she should take. Being so intimate with him last night left her feeling more lost, grasping for that elusive spot that connected her to him again. Making love with him would forge the bond, and she didn't know if she could handle it. Because it would be intense and wild, burning his imprint into her soul. Again.
He danced her into the center of the room, and the music became more seductive, a sultry Latin beat. The feel of his body rocking against hers was electrifying. Their gazes locked and even as he spun her out, then back into his arms, he never broke eye contact. It sent a sensation of unclaimed passion through her, heating her blood, and she responded, their dance growing more seductive, more like foreplay, and the world around them faded.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
"That I know what's beneath that dress."
She smiled, catlike. "How'd you know they'd fit?"
She was referring mostly to the bra and he grinned. "I just used my hands."
Her brows knitted for a second.
"I figured if those beautiful breasts filled my hands—" she gasped at the image "—then the bra would fit."
"You're shameless sometimes."
He jerked her hard against him, his knee insinuating between her thighs as he sambaed her around the room. "Just being near you makes me feel wild, darlin'."
She cocked her head. "We did do some outrageous things."
"Things? That's dang polite." He bent to whisper in her ear. "It was hot jungle sex, on my kitchen floor, in the tub, and how about the time we were on those dirt bikes?" A little moan worked in her throat and she closed her eyes briefly. "You looked as good naked and straddling that bike as you did straddling me."
She squeezed him, then after a second, tipped her head to look at him. He saw something in her expression.
"What?" Nash's heart slammed to his stomach. She looked sad all of a sudden.
"That was the last time you touched me. The last time I ever saw you."
Nash stopped and swept her hair off her cheek, then cupped her jaw. "I know. I'm sorry. Baby, you have to know how much I—"
Someone tapped him on the shoulder and they turned to find a waiter standing close. He motioned to the door, and Hayley saw Grace and the girls standing there. "You didn't tell me they'd be stopping by."
"I didn't know," Nash said, and she heard the tinge of irritation in his voice.
Hayley gave him a "be patient" look, then grabbed his hand, pulling him behind her, but after a few steps, she let him go and walked as fast as dignity would allow to the children. She squatted and opened her arms.
"Hi there!" They hugged her tightly. "This is a nice surprise!" With their arms still around her neck, she glanced up at Grace. "Everything okay?"
"Oh, yes, they just wanted to see you and their daddy all dressed up, and I didn't think you'd mind."
"No, of course not."
The girls eased back. "You look so pretty, Miss Hayley," Kate said, awe in her voice.
"Thank you, darling. Kind of a change, huh?"
"That's a lovely dress, dear," Grace said.
Her gaze swung briefly to Grace's. "Nash picked it out."
Grace's smile grew wide.
Hayley rolled her eyes at the woman and inspected Kim's stitches. "Hurt?"
"No, ma'am, only when I yawn."
Hayley laughed, giving the bandage a kiss, then felt Nash move up behind her.
She stood up and he lifted his girls, one in each arm, and said, "Isn't it past your bedtime?"
They just grinned. "Yup. Waaay past."
"You lost a tooth!" Hayley said to Kate. Nash eyed it very closely and his daughter giggled.
Nash nodded to somewhere behind her. "Hayley? This is Dr. Swanson."
She turned sharply to the old man he'd been talking to earlier. They shook hands, and at her request, he inspected Kate's stitches.
"Fine job, Doctor. Fine."
Hayley thanked him, then asked him if he thought she should have made another stitch. The pair stood off to the side, talking medicine, Nash supposed. When the girls had arrived, there wasn't a person in the room who could mistake her excitement at seeing them. Or at receiving Kim and Kate's crushing hugs. It made him understand again that his daughters were at risk, that their tender hearts could be badly bruised if Hayley suddenly vanished from their lives. A wild stab of pain shot through his chest, and he hefted his daughters a little tighter, accepting their kisses, their hands smoothing his hair; yet his gaze was on Hayley. He wanted a second chance, but at what cost? To him, to her and his girls.
Was trying to convince the woman that he was here for her, that he wanted to work this relationship out when she was hell-bent on going forward alone, asking too much of the other people in his life? If she would give him a clue that she wanted it, too, that she was willing to go the distance, maybe he wouldn't feel as if he was adrift without an oar.
He set the girls down and Grace herded them toward the door.
His heart nearly broke at the way they glanced back over their shoulders at Hayley, but when she looked in their direction, she excused herself from the doctor and went to them.
"Leaving without saying goodbye? Why, I'm stricken, ladies, positively stricken," she said with a deep drawl and a teasing smile. The children hugged and kissed her, and Hayley whispered something private in their ears before they giggled and left with Grace.
Sighing, she waved as they passed through the door, then turned back to Nash. He was looking at her oddly, scowling almost.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"You love them."
"Yes, very much." She moved nearer, linking her arm with his. He was stiff beside her. "You have a problem with that?"
"They're going to be hurt when you leave."
She stopped and met his gaze. "Would you rather I leave now?"
"I don't want you to go at all."
"Well, that's not an option, and who said to act as if there were no tomorrow?"
"That was before I realized how attached my daughters were to you. They've never responded to anyone like this. And they've never had a mother, not that they can remember."
"Are you blaming me for that?"
Nash sighed and looked away. Dancers moved and people dined in quiet elegance, while he wanted to howl in frustration. "No, of course not, but I have to think of them, too."
"Sure you do. They're your children. Perhaps I should save you the trouble of making that decision."
His gaze snapped back to hers, and the suppressed anger there made her take a step back. "No."
"This is obviously not the place to have a serious discussion." Hayley felt as if the floor was slowly opening beneath her feet, and she feared she could never stop the plunge. Instead, he pulled her onto the dance floor, but the sensual tenderness they'd shared earlier had faded. It stung. When the music ended, he walked her to their table and into her chair like a punished child, then muttered something about getting a drink. Hayley grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
Nash caught her outside the ballroom
. "Where are you going?"
"I don't need to be treated like a treasure one minute and an old shoe the next, Nash." She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice and failed. "What is the matter with you?"
"It's that I'm trying hard not to remember you'll leave."
Her look was indignant. "I'm not dying, for pity's sake. You act like if I walk out the door I'll never look back. Why is it always black and white to you?"
"Because I want all or nothing."
She searched his handsome face for a long moment, swallowing repeatedly. "Well, you can't have it all." Tears filled her eyes. "So I guess you get nothing."
His heart squeezed as she yanked free and strode to the club doors.
* * *
Ten
« ^ »
Nash strode after her, unmindful of the people watching as he passed through the country-club doors. He found her hailing a cab.
Quickly he pressed his valet ticket into the attendant's hand and stepped close to her. "Dammit, Hayley. Don't cut me out like this." His voice was low and edged with anger. "It's not all black and white, and we both know it."
She scoffed a dry brittle sound. "It's you who doesn't see that, Nash. You keep drawing lines in the sand, daring me to cross them, and I can't do it."
The cab pulled to a stop. When she made to step toward it, he shut the cab door and waved the driver on.
She glared at him. "You're getting a mighty highhanded—"
"I'm crossing the line." He gripped her arms, pushing his body into hers, the look in his eyes leaving no doubt about his feelings. "No past, no future, only now, Hayley. Right now," he growled. "And I'm done talking."
He kissed her, and in an instant he was deep in her mouth, his tongue thrusting and sweeping. She gave a low moan of want and loneliness and a dark hunger that touched his soul and fueled his desire. The valet pulled the sedan to a stop on the street beside them and still he kissed her. The young man paused to gawk, then moved around the vehicle, leaving the driver's door open. Nash never broke their kiss, running his hands up her spine, and his mouth back and forth over hers. Someone whistled and said his name, and he tore his mouth away, breathing deeply and gazing into her eyes.
WIFE FOR HIRE Page 11
