by Gina Wilkins
Andrew, Jr., always knew all his ex-wife’s plans; he claimed he kept up with her out of self-defense, more than any real curiosity.
Andrew winced at the mention of marriage—something he hadn’t even allowed himself to consider in connection with Nicole. “It’s not quite the way Mother made it sound, Dad. Nicole is only staying with me until she finds a new apartment. She just moved back to town and—”
“Hell, I don’t care what excuse you use. I liked her. Attractive girl. Classy. She’ll be good for you.”
“I, er...”
“Didn’t seem your usual type, though. This one knows how to smile. Unlike that last one you got involved with.”
Andrew rubbed his forehead, and wished he’d had a cup of coffee before taking this call. “Ashley wasn’t that bad,” he felt obligated to protest.
His father snorted. “She would’ve made your life hell. This one sounds different. From what I’ve heard, Joyce thinks the two of you are made for each other.”
Was everyone talking about this? Andrew shouldn’t have been surprised; he knew how rapidly gossip spread through his circle. But he had never grown resigned to being the focus of it.
“George Carlisle says you took one look at this girl and got knocked on your butt. Says he never saw such a dumbstruck look, never thought he’d see one like it on your face. He found it highly amusing.”
“I’m sure he did,” Andrew groaned.
The worst part was, he knew that George had been entirely accurate in summing up his reaction to Nicole. Andrew had foolishly, and futilely, hoped it hadn’t been quite so obvious to the onlookers.
“Better hang on to this one, boy. Nice girls like that don’t come along every day. Don’t run her off with that stuffy air of yours. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up a dried-up old bachelor like my brother. I tell you, when he died so young, it made me take stock of my life and the way I wanted to live it. That’s when I split with your mother. I didn’t want to spend whatever years I had left being miserable.”
“I didn’t realize you were all that miserable with Mother,” Andrew said, instinctive loyalty to his mother hardening his voice.
“Well, I was. And she felt the same way, no matter how much she might gripe about me running out on her. Hell, anyone can see she’s happier with Lowell Hester than she ever was with me.”
Andrew didn’t quite know how to respond to that.
“I’ve got to go. Got plans of my own for this afternoon. Save some time tomorrow morning to discuss that account with me, will you?”
“Yes, of course. What—”
But Andrew was suddenly talking to a dial tone. Without further ado, his father had disconnected.
Shaking his head, Andrew hung up the phone. Buffy licked his hand, then climbed onto his lap to try to reach his face again.
“I do not like to be licked,” Andrew told the dog sternly. “At least not by you,” he added in a mutter. And then he set the animal aside and climbed out of bed to look for Nicole.
Buffy at his heels, it took less than ten minutes for Andrew to discover that Nicole wasn’t anywhere in the house. That aching emptiness flooded him again, making him rub his bare chest as though to ease the hollow discomfort. The dog seemed to sense his mood; it kept its distance, looking at him with what appeared to be sympathy.
Nicole would be back, Andrew thought, reassuring himself that her things were still scattered around his room. Wherever she’d gone, she hadn’t left for good.
This time.
How would he deal with it when she was truly gone from his home, from his life? And why did it hurt so badly to even think about it, when it was an outcome he’d been expecting from the beginning of this whirlwind affair?
“Damn,” he said.
His mother’s dog sneezed, as though to echo the sentiment.
10
NICOLE STILL HADN’T returned by two o’clock Sunday afternoon. Martha had come home from church and prepared lunch. Andrew hadn’t been hungry, so she had put the food away for later. Andrew had thanked her and told her to take the rest of the day off to visit with her friends. She’d promptly taken him up on his offer, though she didn’t leave without urging him one more time to eat something.
As the hours crept by, Andrew paced. His mother’s dog paced right at his heels, as though it, too, were anxiously awaiting Nicole’s return. In fact, Andrew nearly stepped on the mutt more than once. He thought about putting it in the laundry room and closing the door, but he couldn’t seem to do so.
It wasn’t that he wanted the dog’s company, he assured himself; he just didn’t want his mother accusing him of not taking good care of her pet.
At two-thirty, Nicole breezed into his den, smiling brightly, obviously unaware that he’d been counting every minute she was away from him. His first impulse was to ask her where she’d been, who she’d been with, why she hadn’t told him she would be gone. He bit the questions back, knowing he had no right to ask them.
She looked beautiful in a bright red dress of some soft knit fabric. Long-sleeved with a high neck, it was hardly a revealing garment, but the wide black belt emphasized her slender waist in contrast to her nicely rounded breasts and hips, and the full skirt swayed gently around her beautiful legs when she moved. He didn’t like not knowing who had admired her in that dress.
He hadn’t realized how possessive he could be until he’d met Nicole.
“It’s such a beautiful day,” she said. “I was just thinking what a nice day it would be for a bike ride. You wouldn’t have a couple of bicycles, would you?”
He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d ridden a bicycle—other than the stationary type at his health club. “No, I’m afraid not.”
She shrugged. “Some other time, then. But we really should get out for a while this afternoon. I just heard a radio weather guy reminding everyone that this gorgeous, unseasonable weather isn’t going to last much longer. That cold front is coming through soon.”
Andrew wasn’t in the least interested in a weather report. He was nearly consumed with the urge to know who she’d been enjoying the beautiful weather with so far that day.
Nicole suddenly grimaced. “I’m sorry. I’m taking a lot for granted, aren’t I? You probably already have plans for the afternoon?”
“No. I had thought we could spend the day together,” he said, trying not to sound stiff. Knowing he did, anyway.
The mild barb apparently sailed right over her head. “Great!” she said with a smile. “What would you like to do?”
He was suddenly hungry, having missed both breakfast and lunch. “I was just about to eat lunch. Martha kept it warm for me.”
She looked surprised. “You haven’t had lunch yet?”
“I wasn’t hungry before. I am now. Er, have you eaten?” he asked, thinking she might tell him where she’d been.
She cocked her head and frowned at him. “Of course. I told you I was having lunch with my sister.”
She’d been with her sister. Some of the weight lifted from his shoulders.
But when had she told him? “You did?”
She nodded. “In the note I left you. I meant to tell you last night, but—well, I got distracted,” she murmured with a blush and a smile. “And then this morning, you were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t want to disturb you, so I left the note. You did find it, didn’t you?”
He shook his head, trying to hide his mixed emotions. “I didn’t see a note.”
“I left it on my pillow. What in the world could have happened to it?”
She turned and hurried out of the room. Andrew followed curiously, Buffy still prancing at his heels.
They found the scrap of pink paper on the floor beside his bed. It was crumpled and a bit ragged, with several canine-looking perforations in the paper.
“Looks like Buffy found it first,” Nicole said apologetically, glancing at the dog as she handed the note to Andrew. Looking suspiciously innocent, Buffy hopped onto the bed, curle
d into a fuzzy ball, and went to sleep.
Ignoring the animal snoozing on his designer bedspread, Andrew read the words Nicole had scribbled in her loose, looping handwriting.
Andrew—I forgot to tell you that I’ll be in church this morning and then having lunch with my sister and our cousin Nate. Back early afternoon.
It was signed “Nicky.”
She had left him a note. She hadn’t simply walked out, oblivious to his feelings. She’d felt he had at least some right to know where she’d gone. The realization made his throat tighten in relief—and something else he couldn’t quite define.
“I, uh, must have slept heavier than usual,” he said, keeping his gaze on the note. “I didn’t even know the dog was in my room until my father called and woke me around ten.”
“You were really out of it when I got up. Something tells me you don’t get to sleep late very often.”
“No,” he admitted. “I’m usually in the office by eight.”
“Even on weekends?”
“Most of them.”
Nicole touched his arm. “You work too hard.”
It suddenly struck him that he’d just discovered another major difference between himself and Nicole. She had a life. Friends. Interests. Passions.
All he had was his work.
“I thought about asking you to join me this morning,” Nicole confessed, her voice a bit tentative.
“Why didn’t you?” he asked, genuinely curious.
She shrugged. “Well, you were sleeping so peacefully. And, besides, I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“Why?” he asked again.
“The church I usually attend is a tiny Baptist church a few miles out of Whitehaven. It’s very informal. Most of the members are farmers and laborers.”
“My grandfather was a farmer,” Andrew informed her. He didn’t bother to add that Andrew Colton Tyler, Sr., had been a very wealthy farmer from a long line of landowners. There’d been few common laborers in the Tyler line.
“And I would have enjoyed meeting your sister and your cousin,” he added.
“Amy’s sweet, but a compulsive tease. Nate’s very quiet and moody. Some days he can be charming, but other times he hardly speaks.”
“Which was he today?”
“Oh, he was the brooding genius today. Apparently he’s having trouble with a new computer program he’s working on. Something that simplifies surfing the Internet, I think he said. Anytime he has problems with his work, he gets crabby. Not enough to keep him from a free meal, of course,” she added with a laugh.
Andrew lifted an eyebrow. “Free?”
“Amy and I usually pay for lunch. Nate never has any money.”
Andrew noted that Nicole didn’t seem overly concerned about her cousin’s freeloading. Since she’d already mentioned that she partially supported her sister, he suspected that she was the one who’d picked up the full tab for lunch. And considering that she was currently unemployed, he figured her own finances had to be getting strained.
He was tempted to ask; after all, he had plenty. He would be happy to help her out. But something told him Nicole wouldn’t take the offer quite in the spirit he’d intend it. Pride was a tricky thing, and Nicole seemed to have her share of it. She’d never asked him for anything. She was obviously the self-sufficient, independent type.
While he admired her competence, he couldn’t help wishing there was something he could offer that would make her want to stay with him. It was the first time ever that he’d ever wanted a woman to want something from him.
He wondered if he could help her in a less obvious way. “Your cousin is good with computers?”
“Are you kidding? He’s a genius. There’s nothing he can’t do with one. He built his first computer when he was sixteen and he’s been doing amazing things with them ever since.”
Andrew couldn’t help smiling at the pride in her voice. “Why hasn’t an employer discovered his talent?”
She made a face. “He’s had a few offers—and accepted even fewer of them—but he’s really not the corporate type. To put it in kindergarten terms, he doesn’t work and play well with others, I’m afraid. I love him dearly, but he’s a bit...well, strange. Geniuses often are, you know.”
“So I’ve learned,” he said, his smile deepening. Andrew had worked with a few computer geniuses in the past few years. Some had said he had a gift for communicating with them. He’d always considered it just a part of his job.
To get what he wanted from them, he’d learned to deal with them. As simple as that.
“I’d like to meet your cousin. I’m always interested in new talent for my own company. And I’ve worked with a few designers that other people have considered too difficult.”
Nicole’s eyes lit up, making Andrew glad that he’d made the impulsive suggestion. “I’ll arrange an introduction,” she said immediately. “Next Thursday, if possible. He’s usually in a good mood on Thursdays.”
“Why Thursdays?”
She shrugged. “He just is. But never try to talk to him on a Tuesday. He’s impossible on Tuesdays.”
Andrew only nodded.
“I’ll call him tomorrow and talk to him about it. He’s fairly approachable on Mondays. Unless—” She suddenly paused and looked at Andrew suspiciously. “You really are interested in meeting him? You aren’t just doing this for me, are you?”
Andrew had always been lousy at lying. He’d never bothered to learn how to do it well, since his usually blunt candor had served him well enough in the past. “Yes, partially for you,” he admitted. “I won’t go so far as to hire him, even to please you, if he has nothing to offer. But if he does, then I’ll be the one who benefits from his talent.”
“It’s not a charity thing, then?” she asked hopefully.
He shook his head. “No. I’d like to meet him.”
Her smile returned. “Thank you.” She rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You’re a very sweet man, Andrew Tyler.”
He snagged her around the waist, pulling her closer. “I’m not sure anyone’s ever said those words to me before,” he murmured.
She looped her arms around his neck. “Well, I’ve said them. And they’re true.”
He didn’t quite know what to say. But he knew exactly what to do. He covered her mouth with his.
She murmured her pleasure and melted into the embrace.
THEY WENT to his club for dinner Sunday evening. It was Nicole’s idea, in a way. She’d pointed out that she’d made most of the decisions concerning their entertainment to that point, and she wanted to spend the evening the way he would have if she hadn’t been there. It was her way of getting to know him better, she’d added.
Andrew often dined at the club when Martha took an evening off from cooking. He wore chinos and a sweater, and Nicole wore a simple sweater-and-slacks set that somehow managed to be casual and elegant at the same time.
Again that evening, Andrew was amazed at how easily she seemed to fit into any situation. His acquaintances, of course, greeted him politely when he entered, which didn’t surprise him. What did surprise him was the warmth with which they greeted Nicole. By name. And they’d only met her once, at the New Year’s Eve bash.
Obviously she’d made a favorable impression that evening, and not just with Andrew.
He was aware of the speculative glances turned their way. The single men eyed Nicole and wondered how long Andrew would manage to hold on to her. The matrons whispered predictions of either a spectacular wedding or an equally spectacular breakup. The few catty others asserted that she must be after his money, since she couldn’t possibly be interested in his personality.
He was all too familiar with the gossip patterns of his set. He’d heard it all before, though he’d consistently refused to participate.
Looking across the small table at Nicole, he thought rather wistfully that she looked as at ease in his world as she had in her own. He wanted very badly to believe that was a good sign. He could h
ardly imagine his world without her now.
Too fast. Too much, the nagging voice of reason whispered through his head.
He pushed it aside, choosing instead to concentrate on Nicole’s musical laughter as she told him an amusing anecdote about something a small child had said in her church that morning.
NICKY SPENT the evening watching Andrew with his peers. Looking for any sign of intimacy among them. Finding none.
Again she had the impression that he was a solitary man in the middle of a large, rather obsequious crowd. He had respect, admiration, more than a little envy, but wasn’t there anyone who truly loved him?
His parents seemed to love the image that their son projected—strong, smart, successful. But did they ever see or recognize the bleak loneliness hidden deep in his beautiful blue eyes? The wistfulness with which he sometimes gazed at the bustling, laughing, demonstrative world around him?
Would he ever allow anyone—no, would he ever allow her—to know him well enough to really love him?
There was so much about him to admire and respect. But she couldn’t help worrying that her imprudent tumble into love was only going to lead to heartache. She knew herself too well to believe that she’d be satisfied only with physical intimacy from the man she loved. She needed so much more.
Would Andrew ever be able to give it?
She hoped her bright smile hid her worries. She found it encouraging when she coaxed a small grin out of him in return. If nothing else, she thought pensively, she could give him this. A few evenings of fun to balance the long hours of hard work. Was that all he wanted from her—or did he, like herself, want more?
If she had any psychic abilities, she would use them now, she thought with a touch of forced whimsy. It would be nice to be offered even a brief glimpse into the mind and heart of Andrew Colton Tyler III.
THERE WAS A STRANGE vehicle in Andrew’s driveway when he returned from work Monday evening. And “strange” was the operative word, he decided, frowning at the battered van that seemed to be made up mostly of mismatched junkyard parts.
