by Dorie Graham
The four corners sported smaller gardens, each with its own theme. A kettle wind sock prevailed over what appeared to be a bevy of herbs. Tropical flowers peered between and around huge boulders of varying shapes and sizes on the far side. Another area paid homage to a stand of palms that shaded a cozy hammock, and the last paraded flowers in a rainbow spectrum.
“It’s beautiful.” She turned slowly in a circle, breathing in the sweet floral scent.
“Yes, beautiful.” His tone was dark and fluid.
She faced him. Heat shimmered in his eyes as his gaze traveled over her. Awareness warmed her blood. Framed by the tropical garden, he looked like a predator ready to strike. She took an involuntary step backward.
He straightened and the moment passed. “Every room has a view of the gardens.”
Sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy and winked off the floor-to-ceiling windows and wide French doors that must indeed usher the outdoors in.
“This is incredible,” she murmured. “I’m surprised you can bring yourself to part with it.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “It’s time.”
Again a feeling of empathy swamped her. She stilled the impulse to place a comforting hand on his arm. Whatever ailed this man, he seemed quite inclined to deal with it himself.
“Would you care to see the rest?” He gestured toward a pair of French doors.
“Yes, that would be nice, if you don’t mind.” She followed him into the main entryway.
Jewel-colored light splashed across the wall above her. Opposite, a stained-glass panorama stretched above the heavy oak doors, depicting a mermaid singing to a sea prince.
“Do you prefer to wander on your own or would you like the guided tour?” Cain asked.
Her glance fell across a side table adorned with an assortment of gilt-framed photographs. The delicacy of the table and its ornate trimmings seemed in contrast to the man’s dark nature. A blond woman with an easy smile peered from one of the frames.
Nikki straightened, suddenly feeling very much like an intruder. “I’d like the guided tour…if I’m not keeping you from anything.”
He gestured with a wide sweep of his arm. “This is the foyer.”
Her gaze again gravitated toward the stained-glass window. The mermaid’s wistful expression elicited a strange melancholy in her. Or did the image evoke the emotion in Cain and she was feeling it from him? Why would such a beautiful display cause him sorrow? She frowned. Being empathic wasn’t easy.
She blinked inexplicable moisture from her eyes as his gaze pinned her. “Is it an original?” she asked. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it—or the fountain, for that matter.”
“Yes. They were both commissioned.”
He turned stiffly, and she followed him into the formal living room off to one side of the entryway. Here the contrast between the style of furniture and the man seemed even starker. High wing-backed chairs and sofas, dark claw-foot tables and delicate lamps adorned the space. Silk wallpaper with tiny rosebuds covered the walls, one of which featured shiny brass sconces flanking a large oil painting of a Victorian lady meeting her lover.
Nikki couldn’t help but verify her suspicions. “You collect antiques?”
Though his shoulders remained steady, he seemed to sag somehow. “It would appear so.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just a little odd. You don’t seem to be the claw-foot type.” As if she had any idea what type he might be.
His gaze caught hers. For a moment a storm threatened in his eyes, then he cocked his head and seemed to relax. “Perhaps I’m not.”
“Oh.” She waited with bated breath, but he didn’t elaborate.
Did the woman in the picture collect the antiques and knickknacks? If so, where was she now? Was she the cause of Cain’s pain?
And exactly what would you do about it if she were?
The doorbell saved Nikki from further speculation. Ginger Parker arrived in a bluster of apologies and out of breath, her blue-gray hair tousled by the wind. “I’m so sorry I kept you waiting.”
She patted her hair in place and turned to Cain. “Thank you for letting Ms. McClellan in.”
He nodded toward the study on the opposite side of the foyer. “No problem. I was just working.”
“Oh, well, we’ll let you get back to it then. Don’t mind us. We’ll just poke around on our own.” Ginger shooed him toward the study.
Dylan hesitated. His gaze swung over his prospective buyer. She was quite attractive with her brown eyes and coffee-colored hair. She had a sturdy build, not too thin, but she seemed unsteady at the moment. He’d made her uncomfortable somehow. She looked…upset.
“Ginger has been through already. She previewed the house a couple of days ago,” he said, wanting to reassure the woman. “You’re in safe hands, Ms. McClellan.”
“Oh, please call me Nikki.”
“Nikki then.” He extended his hand. “And I’m Dylan.”
“Yes, Dylan it is.” She placed her hand in his.
Warmth surged through him. Not just the tingling heat of sexual awareness—though that was there, too, which surprised him. Sure, on those rare occasions when Steven Benson, his lifelong friend, had dragged him out, he’d felt the odd passing attraction. But nothing like this.
Earlier in the garden, Nikki’s lush figure and sparkling eyes had had his mind wandering along lustful paths he hadn’t pondered in a very long time. Now her warmth enveloped him in comfort and ease. As he looked into her eyes, serenity such as he had not known these past two years descended on him. Her gaze softened, and he could no more look away than he could let go of her hand. He fought the alarming urge to sweep her into his arms.
What had come over him and who was this woman?
Ginger cleared her throat. “Shall we?”
Nikki glanced away, breaking the spell. She pulled her hand from his as pink blossomed in her cheeks. “Yes, of course. So far I love it. It’s certainly more house than I’d anticipated.”
“Let’s start with the study, then we can let Dylan get back to work.” Ginger ushered her client in that direction.
Dylan followed, staring blankly at the papers on his desk. What had he been working on? A haze clouded his mind. He turned and nearly collided with Nikki.
“Now this is your room.” Appreciation shone in her dark eyes as she took in the solid-oak furnishings and cluttered tabletops. Papers and files pertaining to the fraud case he was working on covered nearly every available space.
“I…this is where I work when I’m home. I like it to be…utilitarian.” In fact, it was the one room Kathy had had no interest in.
“Dylan’s an attorney.” Ginger rubbed her hands together. “He’s defending Councilman Weatherby. Imagine, one of Miami’s finest citizens on trial like a common criminal. You’ll get him off, won’t you, Dylan? I can’t believe George has done a dishonest thing in his life.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the case. The local media is having a field day with it as it is.”
“Yes.” Nikki cocked her head. “I believe I did read something about it. I’m sorry. I don’t follow the news as closely as I should. I spend my days doctoring furry critters, then fall into bed exhausted at night. I don’t know where the time goes.”
“You’re a veterinarian?” Dylan almost smiled, picturing the lovely brunette with her “critters.”
“Yes, I am. I’ve always gotten along better with animals than people.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
It was a full bottom lip. Luscious. Made for kissing.
“Nikki has her own clinic in Bay Heights,” Ginger said.
Dylan forced himself to look away from Nikki. Guilt filled him. What had made him think of kissing her? Had the woman bewitched him? He cleared his throat. “Bay Heights. That wouldn’t be a far drive.”
“No, not at all.” Nikki turned to Ginger. “I’m anxious to see the rest of the house.”
“Of course you are, hon. Dylan
, if you’ll excuse us…”
“Certainly. Make yourselves at home. Just let me know if you have any questions.”
Nikki glanced back, smiling as they left the room, and he stilled the urge to follow. “Briefs,” he muttered as he sat at his desk. “Where was I?”
He consulted the notes he’d been scribbling when Ginger had called. “Right, finance summaries.”
With quick motions he punched a number into his phone. After four rings, the message center on the other end picked up. He waited patiently for the beep, then said, “Evelyn, if you have them ready, I could really use those summaries on the Weatherby finances. In particular, I’m looking for September and October of last year. Give me a call if you have them, or just fax them over. Thanks.”
He exhaled and focused on the file in front of him, immersing himself in his work. The accountants were going over every detail, but he needed to understand where the councilman stood himself. Though all the columns in Weatherby’s P&L added up, Dylan’s sixth sense told him all wasn’t as it appeared to be.
A short while later, Nikki’s musical laughter floated down from the upstairs, shattering his concentration. He tossed down his pen. He had purposely left the office and all its distractions to work at home this afternoon. Now how was he supposed to get any work done with all of this racket in the house?
After another moment of staring blankly at the page in front of him, he gave up all pretense of working. He stood, then went in search of the pair.
He found them in the guest room. Sebastian, Kathy’s orange tabby, had draped himself unceremoniously across Nikki’s shoulders. Dylan paused a moment, not breathing. Since Kathy’s death, the cat hadn’t let anyone pet him, let alone pick him up—not even Dylan.
Nikki turned. Her smile faded. “Your housemate found us.”
Ginger ruffled the cat’s ear and he hissed at her. “Oh my, he hasn’t any use for me, though he climbed right up there. Seems to have taken a liking to Nikki.”
“He doesn’t like most people.” Dylan took a shaky breath. Showing the house was turning out to be harder than he’d expected. He stepped forward to take the cat, but Sebastian growled and leaped to the floor.
“Ow!” Nikki clamped her hand to her collarbone.
“Did he scratch you?” Dylan asked.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s bleeding.” Ginger’s eyebrows formed a deep V.
“Let me see.” The softness of Nikki’s hand plagued him as he moved it aside to see the double slash where Sebastian’s claws had marked her. “I’m sorry. I’ll get something for that.”
She waved aside his efforts. “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”
“He’s overdue for a clipping. He doesn’t like me handling him, and I’ve been so busy lately, I can’t remember the last time I took him in for a grooming.”
“He didn’t mean anything. Bring him by my clinic. We’ll get him clipped and clean for you.” She smiled as the cat rubbed up against her leg. “I’ve always had a way with the four-legged kind.”
“So it seems.” Dylan suppressed the anger rising in him. Why should Sebastian’s reaction to the woman upset him?
Or perhaps it was his own guilty response triggering his feelings.
“Well—” Ginger checked her watch “—if you’ve seen enough, I suggest we move along, Nikki. We have several more homes to visit.”
Relief flooded Dylan. Thank God they were leaving. His insides had been in a tangle since he first laid eyes on that woman. Now he could get back to work and get on with his life.
Nikki turned slowly around the room until she faced him. Her gaze caught and held his, though her words were directed toward Ginger. “Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I believe I’m ready to make an offer.”
2
SUNLIGHT STREAKED THROUGH the stained glass in a last burst of fiery intensity before the sun set that evening. Dylan clenched his fist, unable to tear his gaze from the fading light. Kathy had loved the window he’d had designed for her twenty-fifth birthday.
That last fateful night they had been leaving for a party his parents had thrown to celebrate his passing the bar. Kathy had stopped to watch the sun give up its last rays. “Oh, look. The sun’s saying good-night.”
She had refused to leave until the final bit of color had faded, her sweet eyes growing sadder with each passing minute. Then she had turned to him with a shrug. “It just isn’t the same without the light shining through.”
He’d swept his arms around her and kissed her. “Then I’ll be your light until morning.”
Her arms had tightened around him, her breath warm against his cheek. “You’re always my light, Dylan.”
God, he missed her.
He swallowed past a sharp ache in his throat, gritting his teeth against the loneliness that always overwhelmed him at sunset. How wrong they’d both been.
She’d been the light.
He closed his eyes. To his consternation, a vision of Nikki McClellan flashed through his mind. Her dark eyes beckoned him, filled with a promise he refused to acknowledge. He pushed the image away.
“No.”
No one would ever replace Kathy. He had no intention of pursuing any kind of relationship with Nikki. He had nothing to offer her.
The doorbell rang. He straightened in the dark, hesitating before rising. His family never visited, and hadn’t most of his friends gotten the hint and given up stopping by long ago? It was probably Steven. His old boarding school roommate was a diehard.
Steven had gotten married a little over a year ago. It seemed settling down into his own happiness made him more determined to drag Dylan back into the world of the living. The more Dylan resisted, the harder Steven tried. Guess that’s what best friends were for.
Dylan yanked open the door just as the bell sounded again. Evelyn Rogers, a paralegal at his office and the woman his parents had always favored over Kathy, stood on his doorstep. A tall man beside her met Dylan’s steady gaze while a streetlight cast long shadows across the porch.
“Why, Dylan, I was beginning to wonder if you were home.” Evelyn looped her arm through her companion’s. His dark hair played opposite to the platinum strands framing her heart-shaped face. “This is Nick Vancouver. I don’t believe you two have met.”
Dylan hesitated a long moment, then shook the man’s hand. “Dylan Cain.”
“I’ve long been an admirer of your father’s.”
Dylan’s gut tightened. Too bad he couldn’t say the same. His father was hell in a courtroom, but Dylan had seen too much of the man’s private affairs to hold any kind of respect, let alone admiration, for him.
Evelyn peered past him into the darkened house. “Has your power gone out?”
Dylan flipped on the foyer light, then stepped back wordlessly. As much as it would have pleased his mother, Evelyn had never been anything to him. Why then did it aggravate him to see this man by her side?
“I just wanted to drop off these summaries you requested.” She pulled a file from the briefcase slung over her shoulder.
“Thanks.” He took it from her. “I would have had a courier pick them up.”
She shrugged, her glance swinging to Nick, then back. “I wanted to stop by. No one’s seen much of you lately. You burrow into your office at work, then you hole up here the rest of the time. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Irritation grated through Dylan. “I’m fine. You needn’t have troubled yourself.”
“Well…” She shifted and tried an uneasy smile. “We won’t keep you. We have to run anyway. We’re meeting Nick’s parents for dinner.”
She twisted a large diamond on her ring finger. Inexplicably the knot in Dylan’s stomach tightened at the sight of the ring. Evelyn laughed a nervous little laugh, holding up her hand. “Isn’t it beautiful? Nick surprised me with it last week.”
Dylan nodded, unable to utter anything intelligible. He should wish them well, but the words stuck in his throat. He’d nev
er cared for Evelyn in that way, so why was her good fortune so hard to swallow?
Beaming, Nick pulled her to his side. “I’m pushing for a September wedding.”
Pink tinged Evelyn’s cheeks. “He’s so impatient, but we’re going to try.”
“Ah, well…” Dylan let the words trail off. What was he supposed to say— That he wished them all the happiness he’d lost the night Kathy had slammed her car into that power pole?
Nick released his fiancée. “We’re going to be late. It was nice meeting you, Dylan.”
“Good luck,” was the best Dylan could offer as he again shook the man’s hand.
“Take care of yourself. I worry about you.” Rising on her tiptoes, Evelyn placed a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t be such a stranger, okay. You’ll come to the wedding?”
He shrugged. “I’m not much for ceremonies.”
Disappointment flickered in her blue eyes. “Well…let me know if you need anything else.”
He nodded, then shut the door firmly behind them. What he needed was peace and quiet. What he needed was not to be reminded of all the happiness he had no hope of ever retrieving.
“SO, EVELYN HAS HOOKED HERSELF a husband.” Steven Benson’s green eyes glowed in the dim light of Dylan’s study late that Saturday evening. “That throws a monkey wrench in your parents’ plan. I’m surprised your mother hasn’t called to agonize over it.”
Dylan grimaced. His mother never missed a chance to play the drama queen. He lifted a bottle and two glasses from a nearby shelf. He wasn’t a regular drinker, but tonight seemed to call for it.
He handed Steven one of the filled glasses. “She’s storing it up, waiting for the perfect opportunity to let loose. The more people to witness how I’ve failed her and take pity on her, the better.”
“What made them think you’d ever go for Evelyn?” Steven shrugged. “She’s all right, just not right for you. She’s more like them. Surface.”
Surface. The word described Dylan’s parents to a T. Appearances were all they cared about. Image was everything. With her highbrow bloodline and Ivy League education, Evelyn would indeed add luster to the family reputation. Unlike Kathy, who’d made it to Harvard not through her family connections or bank balance but on the full scholarship she’d worked so hard to earn.
