Bid Me Now

by Rebecca Gilise

  Miri shook her thoughts off and looked up to find Alex staring at her like she was a sixteen-year-old who needed stern guidance. “My dear, that line isn’t going to work forever.” She arched a perfect brow. “But of course, I won’t interfere.” She conceded a small smile as Miri snorted. “Well, maybe just a little. Your mother was very dear to me, so I feel a responsibility to take care of you.”

  Miri didn’t much appreciate being thought of as a responsibility, but that was Alex. Whatever she might lack in tact, she more than made up for in kindness and sincerity. And she was indefatigable when it came to providing support and advice, regardless of whether it was wanted or not.

  Miri reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I know. You’ve been brilliant. But no matchmaking, please.”

  “Well, I’ll try, but no promises. A man is the best stress-buster you know. If not Dr. Carter, what about your hunk? You got quite flushy when I mentioned him. Are you going to see him again?”

  So Alex didn’t know about the dinner tonight. Miri made a split-second decision to keep it that way. “Of course not. There’s no reason to.”

  “Perhaps there will be after I’ve talked to him. The town will be most upset to find out the mill is coming down. Some local pressure might change his mind.”

  “I doubt it. He does this for a living. He won’t care.”

  “Just leave it to me, my dear. I’ll deal with your brute.”

  Before Miri could open her mouth to retort, Alex stood up. “Anyway, keep your chin up, my dear, and wait until you hear from me. I have to rush. Beauty calls.”

  Miri sighed again, resigned to the steamroller that was Alex. “My chin is just fine where it is, and it won’t do any good talking to him,” she grumbled into her coffee.

  But Alex wasn’t listening. Another one of her habits. The ability to ignore anything inconvenient.

  Miri watched Alex thread an elegant path between the tables and disappear through the exit. “Beauty” frequently called Alex, although what needed to be beautified was anyone’s guess.

  Well, at least she could finish her espresso con panna in peace. That is, if she could stop thinking about the brute.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “So what do you think?”

  She didn’t need an opinion. She just needed to be told what she already knew. That her dress was far too short for a dinner with Nick Brannagh.

  Bree, sprawled on the living room sofa, peered over the top of her reading glasses. “Wow! I thought you’d sworn off heels.”

  “Might as well live dangerously.” Miri flexed her feet in the mint-green bow pumps, a birthday gift from Alex. She wasn’t overly concerned about the heels. The Blahniks were safe enough, but her dress wasn’t. “This is too short, isn’t it?”

  “Jesus, worry wart, it’s fine. And with those legs, you might as well show them off.”

  But Miri stared down at her knees all the same. Her little black dress, with its low square neck, thin shoulder straps, and slim-cut skirt, was usually appropriate for any event after six o’clock. But tonight it felt much too short.

  “I guess I’m nervous. How silly is that?”

  “Not silly. A first date is always a big deal.”

  “It’s not a date,” Miri protested, wondering why she was denying the obvious. “I’ve got to convince him not to tear down the mill, and it’s nerve-wracking.” But it wasn’t the mill that had put an edge to her mood. It was the thought of sitting opposite sexy Brannagh Enterprises for a couple of hours.

  Bree laughed at her lie. “Not a date in that dress and heels? Gee, no kidding. Anyway, just let the conversation flow. Put him at his ease, then stick it to him about not demolishing the mill!”

  That didn’t sound right to Miri. It was she who needed to be “eased.” He seemed to be permanently at ease. Miri checked her watch and readjusted the coral comb holding up her hair. “Is Abe coming over tonight, or he working late on some news story?”

  “He’s making one of his pasta thingies, and I’m to have everything ready. Man, he’s good in the kitchen, and even better in the sack. You know, the other night…”

  Miri clapped her palms against her ears. “Hell, Bree, not so much information, pleeease!”

  Bree was right about her boyfriend being a superb cook. The other information she could do without, but presumably he measured up, if Bree’s usual contented morning-after face was any indication. Miri didn’t have contented morning-after faces. But then, she didn’t have a sex life.

  “Spoilsport!” chuckled Bree, crawling upright on the sofa and poking her head between the drapes. “I thought I heard a car.”

  “Get away from there. He’ll see you.” Damn. The last thing she needed was Nick being gawked at through the window.

  “Well, it might be Abe. Actually, it’s the hunk. Nice Beemer. I’ll let him in. I’ve gotta see this guy.”

  “Wait, Bree, I’ll get it.”

  Too late. Bree was off like a Labrador after a Frisbee. Miri heard the whoosh of the front door opening.

  “Hi, I’m Nick.”

  Bree turned as Miri arrived a moment later. “Please let me have him?” Bree mouthed with a giggle.

  “Hello, Nick. This is Bree, my roommate, and as you can see, she’s crazy.”

  Nick fixed Bree with a broad grin. “Hi, Bree. Are you an artist as well?”

  “Aah…no, not exactly, I’m a photographer,” Bree answered breathlessly, turning pink.

  “Well, that must be interesting. Plenty of subjects to photograph in Charmford, I guess?”

  “Um…yes, there’s always something to shoot.”

  Miri had never seen Bree turn to goo from a man’s attention. This from a woman who could in all probability stare down Mike Tyson if called upon. But, to be fair, Nick was textbook eye candy, standing there all loose and relaxed in charcoal-gray pants with a sports jacket over a crisp white open-neck shirt.

  Miri poked a forefinger in Bree’s back. “Don’t you have to get things ready for Abe?”

  “Uh-huh. Would you like to come in, Nick?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Drat her roommate. Miri hadn’t planned for this. She led Nick into the living room, her back burning with the certain knowledge that he was looking at her legs.

  Now what to do? Bree had annoyingly disappeared into the kitchen. Should she invite him to sit down? No, it might be better to grab her purse and pashmina and start for the door. After all, this wasn’t a date. Or even a meeting. Whatever it was, it was fast becoming awkward, although when she glanced up at Nick, he seemed right at home, his hands in his pockets, still looking at her legs.

  While she dithered, Nick waited quietly. “You have a nice home,” he finally said, his gaze lifting to stroke her from head to foot.

  Miri felt a sudden flash of heat, not sure whether to be annoyed or flattered at being so openly inspected. “Oh, yes…it’s…thanks.” That sounded dumb.

  “Perhaps we should get going. The reservation is for eight-thirty.”

  Miri nodded numbly, wondering how he could be more at ease in her own home than she was. “Of course.” She collected her things from the arm of the sofa and led him to the front door.

  “’Night, Bree,” she yelled down the hall toward the kitchen.

  “’Night. Have a good time.”

  Miri doubted that would happen. The way she was feeling, the whole evening would be just short of torture.

  Nick held open the passenger door of his car, his arm brushing hers as she slid into the seat, making her shiver at the contact. She shivered all over again when he took off his jacket and tossed it over to the back seat, and his aftershave speared her brain with all sorts of deadly sensations. At that moment she seriously wondered whether making a run for it back to the safety of her house was an option.

  She felt his eyes on her. “You’re trembling. Are you cold?”

  Miri only just bit back the bubble of laughter rising in her throat. Lordy, what would he say if she tol
d him the truth? That he was just too much for her? “Oh, no, I’m fine. Just a little hungry, that’s all.”

  “Good. I’ve reserved a table at Jean-Paul’s.”

  “Oh, yes, I’ve heard it’s very nice.” She knew the restaurant. Only last week Marcus had suggested dinner there. Naturally she’d turned him down, using the excuse of being far too busy finishing the Egg Beater.

  “You look beautiful.”

  Miri clutched her pashmina as her body flashed with heat in an involuntary response to his compliment. “Thank you. You look very nice, too.”

  He grinned and fired the engine. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Miri put her seat belt on and sighed. It was too late to make a run for it.

  • • •

  This was too romantic. Nick hadn’t intended romantic, but this place was romance personified. All soft lights and tables set for two. The last thing he wanted was Miri thinking his dinner invitation was a prelude to some sort of seduction. As appealing as the thought of bedding her might be, that wasn’t his intention. At least not tonight. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind a hundred times during the drive over. Well, it hardly mattered what he thought or intended. Not with her sitting there all straight-backed and as tense as a fiddle string. He’d be lucky to get a handshake out of her, let alone a goodnight kiss.

  But hell, she did look good. So melt-in-the-mouth good, it was all he could do to keep his libido under control. In her short black dress, every slender curve was displayed to perfection, and with her dark glossy hair worn up, her pale neck and shoulders glowed under the soft lights. She’d turned every head in the restaurant, although she seemed oblivious.

  He signaled the waiter. “I hope you enjoy the food here. The place was recommended by the hotel concierge.”

  She shifted in her seat and glanced solemnly around the restaurant. “It looks nice.”

  Nick sighed inwardly. Maybe she’d loosen up by dessert.

  While the waiter set out menus and poured water, Nick checked the wine list. “What would you like to drink? Red, white, or something else?”

  “White wine would be nice.”

  “White wine it is.”

  Nick studied the list of whites, suddenly aware that Miri was no longer studying the décor. She was now very carefully studying him from under her lashes. Checking him out. Up and down, side to side. Catching a real eyeful.

  Maybe a tease would get past all that armor. “See something you like?” A second later, Nick could have kicked himself, as a deep red climbed up her neck like mercury up a thermometer.

  “Sorry…what? Oh, the menu. Yes, it all looks delicious.” She looked wildly around the room as if searching for the bathroom as an excuse to leave the table.

  Fuck, that went well. Time to segue, and fast. “Your friend Bree is a character.”

  She turned back and managed a ghost of a smile. “Yes, she is. Bree’s been my roommate for over a year now. A good friend, but a hopeless cook.”

  She was still in her seat, so Nick went with the topic. “So you’re the cook?”

  “I guess. Most of the time. Usually I’m too busy to make anything fancy. We eat Chinese takeout a lot.”

  “They say cooking is an art, and you’re an artist, so I guess you’re an expert.”

  She gave a small lyrical laugh. That sound alone could capture a man in an instant. “I’ve never thought of it like that.”

  He signaled the waiter. “Well, I hope you’ll enjoy French for a change.”

  Miri ordered the blanquette de veau, while Nick opted for a medium-rare steak and a bottle of the restaurant’s best sauvignon blanc.

  “Have you been to France?”

  Nick nodded. “A few times. It’s not a city for engineers on demolition projects. Better suited to romantic getaways.”

  She tilted her head, obviously interested in something he’d just said. “An engineer? What kind of engineer?”

  He was surprised at her interest, but wasn’t going to question it. Not when her interest felt so good. “Structural. Studied engineering in college, then decided to get into the demolition and salvage business. It’s a big market, so plenty of room for another company.”

  “What made you put in a bid for the Charmford Mill?”

  Of course she had to ask, that was the deal. But he’d half-hoped she would let the whole thing go. Apparently Miri stuck to her deals.

  Nick set down his fork and thought about how to explain it to her. It didn’t help that she was looking at him with her chin set in a determined line. He knew what that meant. She’d be on her feet at any moment.

  “We were approached by a potential buyer for the land. The buyer didn’t want the financial risk of buying the mill, then paying big money for the demolition and salvage, so we took it on. We get to sell the salvage, which gives us a good profit, as well as the sale of the cleared land.”

  “Can you…I mean, Brannagh Enterprises pull out of the deal?”

  “It’s not that simple. The contract with the land developer is airtight. He wants to build an apartment complex.”

  “Then you absolutely have to pull it down?” she persevered.

  Nick tried not to let his exasperation show. “That’s the deal.”

  Her green eyes flashed her impatience at his answers. “But surely you can do something?”

  She was persistent, Nick had to give her that. “Look, if we reneged on the contract, we would be sued and we’d lose. The developer would pull down the building anyway. That’s the business reality.”

  Nick tried to read her expression, but she was staring at her fingers closing and unclosing around the stem of her wineglass, as if the thing needed one hundred percent of her attention. She’s going to stand up for sure, Nick decided with a sigh. But then unexpectedly she looked up and stared him straight in the eyes.

  “I owe you an apology, Nick. I just thought if I offered you more money, then you could sell to me. I should have known it was more complicated.”

  Thank God she’s finally got it. Relief washed over him. “No apology necessary. Will you find somewhere else for your studio?”

  “Oh, yes, there will be somewhere,” she said with forced brightness, but Nick guessed that wouldn’t be easy in a town like Charmford. There was obviously something keeping her here.

  Before he could ask her, their meals arrived.

  They settled in to eat. Jean-Paul’s lived up to its reputation as the best restaurant in town.

  “Do you have family?” she asked halfway through their meal.

  Nick sat back, surprised at her personal question. “I have an older sister who lives in Toronto, and my dad’s retired in Florida.”

  “Do you see them very often?”

  “Cate is an interior designer, and I usually catch up once a year or so. I make a point of visiting my father every couple of months. Anyway, what about you? How did you come to be in Charmford?”

  “We came here when I was sixteen. Charmford Hospital services much of the coast, and my father was offered the position of head of surgery here. We loved the place from day one. Now I don’t think I could ever leave.”

  “At the Round Bean you said ‘now there’s just me.’ Do you still have family here?”

  Nick knew he was on delicate ground, but he wasn’t prepared for the sudden flood of sadness in her face.

  She moistened her lips and drew a deep breath. “Two years ago, my parents were killed in a car crash just outside Charmford. A head-on with a drunk driver. I was at an art workshop in Chicago when it happened.”

  So that was it. The part of her he hadn’t understood now fell into place. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said…”

  “No, it’s okay,” she interrupted quickly, with a small reassuring smile. “I don’t talk about it much.” She shook her head as if to clear the memory, and a silky strand of her dark hair fell across her cheek.

  “How are you coping?”

  She hooked the tendril behind her ear, frown
ing as she considered his question. “Most of the time it’s okay. It’s helpful to talk about what happened. Besides, my art keeps me going, along with crazy Bree and friends.”

  She was trying hard, but Nick could see it was mostly for his benefit. Damn, why couldn’t he have just left it for her to bring the subject up? “Miri, can I get you something, or would you like to leave?”

  For a moment she looked confused, as if unsure how to answer, and then she smiled, her eyes brightening. “Dessert would be nice. Something chocolately.”

  Nick signaled the waiter again, and ordered one chocolate mousse and a coffee for himself.

  “Do you like sailing?” It was probably a waste of time inviting her to go sailing. Miri looked too much like a delicate hothouse flower for yachts. But then again, maybe not. Something he’d just said had her sparkling.

  “Yes, I love sailing. My father had a fifty-foot…” She stopped mid-sentence, and Nick saw her gaze slide beyond him toward the door, then round in surprise. He turned to see a couple standing just inside the door. The man was tall, maybe an inch or so shorter than his own six three, fair-haired, well-dressed. The woman looked to be a similar age, short blonde hair, attractive in an elegant way.

  When Nick turned back to Miri, she was smiling, but it looked far too tight to be convincing. Something was going on.

  Nick turned back to see the guy casually look around, then frown in recognition when he spotted Miri. He put his hand behind his date’s waist and steered her in their direction.

  Okay, this would be interesting.

  “Hello, Miri. Nice to see you.” The stranger stared hard at Nick.

  Miri sat rigid, her smile forced. “Hello, Marcus. This is Nick Brannagh. Nick, this is Dr. Marcus Carter. I’m doing a commission for his new medical center.”

  Marcus nodded in the direction of his companion. “This is Dr. Mariette Hastings, the hospital’s consulting neurologist.”

  Nick stood. “Doctors,” he said, extending a hand across the table, aware that Marcus Carter was now totally focused on Miri. Obviously some history between the two of them, but not romantic, Nick guessed. At least not on her part. But she was embarrassed all right. Like a naughty kid caught sneaking out without permission.