“I came to see if you were all right, but obviously you’re just fine. You won’t be needing me here.”
She turned and pushed past Judd, desperate now to get out of the cubicle. Desperate to get anywhere where her father wasn’t. He hated her. That much was all too clear. As far as he was concerned, she’d burned her bridges when she’d walked out on him and straight into Nate Hunter Jackson’s arms. He’d never stopped to listen before, why should he start now? Well, two could play at that game, she decided, ignoring Anna who was still waiting outside, and kept her gaze fixed on the exit ahead of her.
Nate waited outside in the chilled morning air.
“How is he?” he asked, stepping forward as she came out through the main doors.
“He’s about as much a bastard as he ever was. Take me home, please. I can’t face going back to the office today.”
Nate gave her a searching look before nodding. He wrapped one arm across her shoulders and gathered her to him.
“Sure, whatever you need.”
The Maserati ate up the miles that led them back to the beach house and the instant they were inside she turned into his arms, wrenching away her clothing and then his, and pouring her energy into setting his soul on fire for her all over again.
She dragged him to the bedroom and pushed him onto the bed, sheathed him with a condom and then straddled his body. There was no finesse, no whispers of passion. Her movements were hard and fast and before he gave himself over to her frenetic lovemaking, he made her a silent promise. Charles Wilson would never hurt her again.
Nine
Nate watched Nicole as she slept beside him. She’d been like a madwoman exorcising a demon. As if she was desperate to fill all the loss and pain inside her with something else. While he didn’t regret that whatever had happened at the hospital had driven her back into his bed, he hated that she was hurting so much inside. Throughout the day she hadn’t said a word about her father’s condition or whatever it was that he’d said or done that had upset her so deeply. Even as they’d walked along the beach during a break in the bad weather, wrapped up tight against the bracing wind that streamed across the sand, she’d adroitly steered their conversation away from work and anything associated with her family.
Throughout their talks he’d begun to get a clearer picture of what her life had been like growing up. It hadn’t all been a bed of roses, as he’d assumed. For a start she’d only had her father, and while he’d lavished his extensive resources upon her and given her every childhood heart’s desire, including a live-in friend in the shape of Anna Garrick, he hadn’t been able to atone for the fact that her mother had essentially abandoned her. Mostly, he hadn’t tried.
After the collapse of his marriage and his family life, Charles had dedicated himself to his work. When he’d spent time with Nicole, it had mostly been in the role of stern authoritarian, making sure she did her homework, got good grades, behaved well in school. She’d worked hard to excel, hoping to win his approval, but his praise was sparse and hard to gain. And when she fell short of his expectations, well…
Little wonder that right now, Nicole felt as if she’d been cast adrift by both her parents. He knew she was in pain but he didn’t know how to make it any better. He also knew that he was responsible for some of the scars she bore right now, and the knowledge carved at his chest with relentless precision.
He could make this all go away. He could destroy the DVD and release her. Even as he thought of it, everything within him protested. She murmured in her sleep as he gathered her against his chest. No, there was one thing these past few days had taught him and that was he never wanted to let her go. Ever.
Charles Wilson didn’t deserve her. In contrast, Nate would do everything in his power to make sure Nicole wanted for nothing while she was under his roof. Surely someday, that would be enough.
Nicole poured her energy into two things for the rest of the week, work and Nate. By Friday evening she was shattered. Lack of sleep and the concentration her work demanded as she finalized every last contract for the Marlborough wineries had culminated in a thumping headache by the time she and Nate drove back to the apartment. She wished they were heading out to Karekare. The sounds of the waves and the birds in the bush that surrounded the house were just the kind of tranquility she craved right now. They would drive out there late Saturday evening, though, and she was looking forward to the time-out. Perhaps she’d even take Nate up on that earlier offer to learn to surf, she thought, as they waited for yet another change of lights before they could get closer to their final destination.
Her cell phone chirped in her bag and she ignored it. She should have turned the damn thing off before they’d left the office. After all, any calls she got tended only to relate to work—or Anna, who had been giving her unwanted updates on her father’s medical condition.
Things were looking pretty bad for Charles Wilson but Nicole refused to let herself think about that. Refused, point-blank, to acknowledge that the one biggest influence on her entire life could soon be gone if things didn’t improve. He hadn’t wanted her there at the hospital. He’d made it abundantly, and painfully clear on Monday morning.
Was she so unlovable? Her chest tightened on the thought. Her mother abandoned her, her father now hated her. Even Nate only wanted her because of what it would do to her father and her brother. Nicole had never felt more adrift in her entire life. The pounding in her head sharpened and she must have made a sound of discomfort because Nate reached across to take one of her hands in his.
“Are you okay? You’re looking really pale.”
“Just this darn headache. I can’t shake it.”
He shot her a look of concern, his hand lifting from hers and touching her cheek and forehead before returning to the steering wheel.
“I don’t think you have a fever, but do you think you should see a doctor? You haven’t been looking well all week.”
“Look, it’s been a stressful week, you know that. I’ll be fine. I just need a couple of painkillers and then about a month’s worth of sleep.”
“Well, I can’t promise a month but I have no objection if you want to stay in bed all weekend.”
She gave him a weak smile. No, she had no doubt he’d be happy to spend that whole time in bed with her, too. It was about the only time she could dismiss everything else and just concentrate on the moment, on how he could play her body like a finely tuned instrument. But right now, forget-the-rest-of-the-world sex was the last thing she felt like.
“Hey, I can change my plans for tonight. I don’t feel so good about leaving you alone if you’re not well.”
“No, no,” she protested. “Raoul’s wedding rehearsal is important. You must go.”
“If you’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she told him. Right now the only thing she craved was maybe a warm bath, those painkillers she’d mentioned a moment ago and then sleep.
In the apartment, Nate went straight through to the master bedroom to get ready for the wedding rehearsal and subsequent dinner that was being hosted in one of Auckland’s premier hotels. Raoul had extended both a dinner and wedding invitation to Nicole, as well, but she’d refused, saying she’d feel like a gate-crasher. The wedding was tomorrow at midday, and she’d planned to go into the office in an effort to get ahead for next week.
Half an hour later she was on her own. She roamed through to the master bathroom and ran a deep bath, treating the water with lavender-and-rose-scented bath salts. Already she could feel the tension in her head begin to ease. She took a couple of headache tablets just before she undressed and lowered herself into the soothing water.
In the living room, she heard her phone begin to chirp again. She sighed, and gave herself a mental reminder to check the thing before turning it off. There was no need to rush to check it righ
t away. If Nate needed her, and couldn’t get through, he would ring the apartment, and who else would need to reach her right away? She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the edge, letting the water and the pain relief weave their magic.
The water was cooling by the time she dragged herself out and dried her body before wrapping in a luxuriously thick bathrobe. There was no point in putting on a nightgown. Nate would only remove it the minute he got home, she thought with an anticipatory smile. Besides, her headache was completely gone now and she was ravenous. Maybe she’d watch a movie on cable while she had something to eat, she thought, abandoning her earlier idea of having an early night. And then, by the time Nate got home, maybe she could meet him at the door, dressed in nothing but a smile. The idea began to sound better and better.
First, though, she had to check her phone. Two missed calls, both from the same caller, and one voice mail. Nicole immediately identified her old home number and her blood ran cold. Had Charles’s condition deteriorated again?
She punched the numbers to listen to the voice mail, and was surprised when the well-modulated tones of an unfamiliar woman’s voice sounded through the speaker.
“This is Cynthia Masters-Wilson and I’m calling for Nicole Wilson. I’d like to meet with you for lunch tomorrow, one o’clock if you’re free.” She mentioned the name of an inner-city restaurant before continuing, “I think it’s time we got to know one another, don’t you?”
The call disconnected but Nicole still stood there, staring at her phone. Her mother? After all this time? She sank to the sofa as her legs weakened. Why now?
All her life she’d told herself she never wanted to meet the woman who had so callously abandoned her one-year-old daughter, never to look back, never to contact her or attempt to see her ever again. While she was growing up she’d told herself it didn’t matter. She had her father, she had Anna and Anna’s mother who was more Charles’s companion than housekeeper in the massive gothic mansion Nicole had grown up in. Yes, it had always been easy to dismiss Cynthia Masters-Wilson as entirely unnecessary in her life.
But what did she have now? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. All week she’d been frantically trying to fill the emptiness inside her—working hard and playing twice as much so. If she was completely honest with herself, neither activity had managed to assuage the hollow feeling her father’s rejection had left her with.
Reason told her to be cautious, though. This was the first ever, active contact her mother had made in twenty-five long years. As far as Nicole was aware, the woman had never spared her a second thought. But what if she wanted to make amends? What if her reasons for leaving Nicole motherless for all those years were justified, her remorse for her absence in her daughter’s life genuine? Surely she had to have a reason for finally getting in touch with Nicole after all this time.
Curiosity won out over caution as Nicole made up her mind. She would meet with Cynthia—she couldn’t ever imagine calling her Mum, or Mother—and she would be seeking a few answers of her own.
Butterflies battled in her stomach as she entered the restaurant located in the historic Auckland Ferry building. She’d chosen to walk the short distance from the Viaduct, but with each step she’d come to dread her decision to attend. What on earth could they possibly have to talk about? And if her mother wanted to offer an olive branch, maybe even try to establish some form of mother-daughter relationship, why do it in such a public place? Surely a private meeting would be more appropriate for a mother and daughter reuniting for the first time in a quarter century.
“You must be Miss Wilson,” said the immaculately attired maître d’ as she hovered in the entrance, in two minds about turning around and walking back to the apartment. “Your mother is already seated. Please, follow me.”
Too late now, she realized. The restaurant hummed with activity and most of the tables were occupied. The sun shined through the windows that looked out over the water, casting a solitary figure seated at a table there in silhouette.
Nicole swallowed back the lump that formed in her throat and focused on placing one foot in front of the other. She smiled at the maître d’ as he held out her chair, not wanting to immediately make eye contact with the woman who had summoned her there. She kept her eyes downcast, fiddling with her bag before setting it on the floor beside her chair. Then, with a steadying breath, she raised her eyes.
It was as if she was looking at herself in another twenty-five years. Same eyes, same hairline, although Cynthia’s hair now bore wings of gray, and while her features mirrored Nicole’s own, there were lines around her mouth. Regret? Bitterness? Would she ever know the truth about that?
“Well, my dear, this is going to be interesting, isn’t it?” Cynthia said with a tight smile.
Of all the things she’d imagined her mother first saying to her, that was most definitely not on the list. Nicole bristled.
“Why now?”
“What? No, hello Mother, pleased to finally meet you?” Cynthia gave another of those artificial smiles. “I don’t blame you for being angry, my dear, but you have to realize that I’m as much a victim of your father as you and your brother.”
A victim? Somehow Nicole thought that was stretching the truth. Her brother had already been proven to be Charles’s natural-born son. Why would he have thought otherwise? Charles had believed his wife had an affair with Thomas Jackson. She couldn’t imagine Nate’s father having been the one to put that idea in her father’s head, which only left one other person in that particular triangle.
“Ah, I see you don’t believe me.” Cynthia sighed. “I feared as much. Come, let’s order, and hopefully we can talk.”
Even though she didn’t feel in the least like eating, Nicole placed her order with the waiter who’d materialized at Cynthia’s request. Once they were each settled with a glass of wine, Cynthia began again.
“You’re quite the beauty, aren’t you? I’m so sorry that I didn’t get to see you grow up. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, walking away from you, leaving you with your father. But I knew he loved you, would protect you. Judd deserved the same, with me.”
“How could you leave me like that?” Nicole blurted out the question. Goodness only knew she’d waited all her life for the answer.
To her surprise, Cynthia’s eyes swam with tears. “Oh, my darling girl. Do you really think I wanted to leave you? Your father wouldn’t let me near you. Once he’d come to his ridiculous conclusions about Thomas and me he wouldn’t even let me see you. He had Judd and me out of the country before I could so much as blink.”
She sounded genuine enough, and the grief on her mother’s face certainly appeared real. Nicole found herself wanting to believe her, but an inner caution still held her back. Without being able to talk to her father, or her brother about this, she had no way of knowing if her mother was telling the truth. The waiter interrupted them with their lunch order and Nicole picked up her fork, playing with the mushrooms in her salad while her mother daintily tasted a sliver of scallop that had come with her dish.
“You could have written,” Nicole said, still not willing to give an inch.
“I did. I wrote to you so many times over the years, but all the letters came back. I can only assume that your father had given the staff orders to return any mail addressed from me.”
It was the sort of thing her father would have done, Nicole conceded, but there were still means around such a thing. After all, twenty-five years was a very long time. Nicole was an adult now—approachable in ways that were outside of her father’s control. To never have been successful was a bit of a stretch of the imagination. Cynthia could obviously sense her skepticism and waved her hand in the air between them.
“That’s all in the past now. We can’t change that. But surely we can get to know one another now? Tell me about where you’re livi
ng. Judd tells me you moved out a few weeks ago. I have to say I was very sorry to hear that you two haven’t had a chance to get to know one another. I’m staying at the house now. I was hoping we could all be together again, the way it should be.”
“Judd didn’t tell you why I left?”
Cynthia gave her a sharp look before shaking her head and placing her fork down on her plate. She took a sip of the mineral water in her glass before speaking.
“He did mention something, but I’d prefer to hear it from you.”
Nicole gave an inelegant snort. She’d just bet Judd would prefer their mother hear it from her. No doubt he’d already fed Cynthia a sanitized version of what had happened that night.
“My father and I had a disagreement about his plans for Judd. I felt it better that I be away from them both for a while.”
“So where are you staying?”
“I’m living with Nate Hunter.” She didn’t want to let on about Nate’s relationship to Thomas Jackson. As far as she was aware, no one at Wilson Wines knew him by his father’s surname. Even at the office he was known as Mr. Hunter. “He’s the current head of Jackson Importers. I’m working with him, too.”
She watched her mother pale beneath her carefully applied makeup, her pallor making the lines around her mouth stand out even more.
“Would Jackson Importers be connected to Thomas Jackson at all?”
“It was his company before he passed away,” Nicole confirmed cautiously.
Cynthia’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Hunter? Would Nate’s mother have been Deborah Hunter?”
Nicole stiffened. Had Cynthia made the connection? “That might have been his mother’s name, yes.”
“So, it was true. There were rumors that Thomas and Deborah were an item, but nothing was ever substantiated. Charles, of course, pooh-poohed the notion. He said if Thomas was having an affair he’d be the first to know about it.” She made a sound that almost approximated a laugh. “As if he paid attention to anything but Wilson Wines. Anyway, I heard that she had a son out of wedlock, but since she didn’t move in the same circles as I did when I lived here, I never really gave her another thought.”
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