by Jane Graves
Nick gave her wrist a tiny squeeze. "Are you okay?"
"Yes. I think the wine just went to my head." She looked down at his hand. "I thought you couldn't touch me if I was wearing this ring."
"It was a reflex action."
"So maybe you'd better let me go now."
"Maybe I should."
But he didn't. Instead he merely relaxed his grip and slid his hand along her forearm. Her bare skin felt smooth and warm, and he was elated when she didn't object. Her lips parted, and her breath came in short, soft bursts. Those lips. God in heaven, just the sight of them made him want to dive right in and kiss her senseless. He was about two seconds away from throwing her over his shoulder, tossing her into a limo, taking her to the airport, and putting them both on a flight to Park City, where they would live together forever and forget Baxter was even his last name.
"You remember, don't you?" he murmured. "What it was like between us?"
She paused. "Yes."
The word came out on a delicate breath, as if she didn't want to say it, but she couldn't help it. Nick felt a jolt of desire, temptation sweeping through him like a brush fire.
"How did you feel when we were together?" he asked.
She paused for a long time, and for a moment he thought she wasn't going to respond. "It—it didn't seem real," she said finally. "It felt…I don't know. As if I'd stepped outside my own body and was watching myself with you."
"Like you were in a movie?"
"Yeah."
"Tell me what you thought of that movie."
She paused. "Well, the action sequences were exciting. I loved the snowboarding scene."
"Lots of adrenaline flowing."
"Yes."
"What else?"
"The dialogue was good."
"Fast-paced? Intelligent?"
"Yeah."
"Can't have a movie these days without sex," Nick said. "How was that part?"
"Intense," she said softly. "Erotic."
"Satisfying?"
"Yes."
"So all in all, you'd give it a thumbs up?"
"Yeah. It was a few hours of really good entertainment."
"It was a thumbs down for me."
"What?"
"It was shaping up to be my favorite movie of all time. But the ending…it just didn't work for me."
"Nick—"
"As much as I thought I'd died and gone to heaven in Park City, I still didn't know what I had. Or the hell I'd go through if I lost it."
Her throat convulsed nervously. "What's good for a weekend isn't necessarily good for a lifetime."
"It is if you believe in soul mates."
"Soul mates?"
"That was what it felt like being with you. As if I'd found that one person on earth who was put there just for me. I remember everything about you, Sarah. Everything."
His gaze fell to the delicate protrusion of her collar bones and the perfect skin across her chest. "Did you know you have a tiny mole?" He pointed to a spot on top of her dress, a few inches below its scooped neck. "Right…about…there."
"You can't possibly remember that."
"Do you have one there or not?"
"Actually, I…I don't know."
He stared intently at that spot. "Show me."
With only a slight pause, she curled her fingertip around the neck of her dress and pulled it down an inch.
"Lower," he said.
She tugged it a little lower.
"More."
Swallowing hard, she pulled it down a tiny bit more, until the full swell of her breast was exposed. Even in the dim light, he saw a chocolate-colored dot only an inch above her nipple.
"There," he said with a smile of satisfaction.
She looked down. "Oh, my God. You were right."
"Of course I was. I told you I remember everything. Every place I touched, every place I kissed—"
"Nick—"
"I would have stayed away from you if I could. I swear to God I would have. But I couldn't. The moment I saw your photo, I had to come here. Had to know it really was you. Had to…"
"What?" she said on a soft breath.
"Touch you again."
He ran his fingertips along the top of her breast, grazing the tiny mole he'd pointed out before. Then he dragged them down, across her nipple, moving them back and forth. When her breathing grew heavier and her eyes fell shut, Nick felt a jolt of pure desire. He moved his fingertips lower, tripping softly along her ribs, then across her hip. He paused a moment, then eased his hand along her dress until he reached her bare thigh.
All at once her eyes flew open and she grabbed his hand. "Don't."
He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. "It's what we both want."
She jerked her hand away. "No. We have to put this behind us."
"I'll never do that. I told you we were born to be together, and I meant it.”
"You see Randall only as the brother you hate. You're not objective."
"And you're not seeing the truth when it's right in front of you. This is a man who left a Jacuzzi tub, a bottle of wine, and the woman he supposedly loves the moment his mother crooked her finger."
"Nick—"
"Sometimes he'll put his mother first. Or his business. Hell, he'll even put golf first. But not you. Never you. And that's going to be one hell of a lonely life."
"No! It's going to be a beautiful life. Just because you threw it away doesn't mean it isn't worth having!"
"God, Sarah! Will you stop being so damned naïve?"
She sat up suddenly. "You have to stop this. Just stop!" She scooted away from him to the other side of the bed, then came to her feet and headed for the bathroom.
Nick rose and circled the bed, but he didn't reach her before she went inside and locked the door behind her. He placed both palms against the door and bowed his head.
"I can't stop," he said. "How am I supposed to stop? Not a day has gone by in the past year that I haven't thought about you. I flew two thousand miles to see you. I'm not going to stop. Do you understand? I am not going to stop!"
"This is my life we're talking about!"
"Exactly! And the last thing I want is for you to ruin it!"
Silence filled the suite, and for a long time, neither one of them said anything. Then he heard a click, and the bathroom door opened. Sarah looked out. To his surprise, her pale blue eyes glistened with tears.
"Please don't do this," she said. "Don't mess up my wedding. Please."
The words were so plaintive, her face so miserable, that Nick felt a pang of remorse for showing up there at all. But her tears didn't change the facts. If she married Randall, the misery she felt now would pale in comparison to what she'd feel for the rest of her life.
"I can't promise that," he told her.
She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh and slumped helplessly against the door frame, dropping her head to her hand.
"The wedding isn't until Saturday," he said. "I'll give you a chance to come to your senses, but if you don't…"
Her gaze flew up to meet his. "What are you going to do? Are you going to tell Randall about the two of us in Park City?"
He desperately wanted to do that. He wanted to tell Randall that he and Sarah had been together only hours before the two of them had met. If Randall were any other man, he would probably get over it. But his no-good brother? Chances were his ego wouldn't be able to take it that they'd been together. Nick knew which of his brother's buttons to push, and before long Randall would call off the wedding. That would be good for Sarah. But if she hated Nick forever because of it, where did that leave him?
"All I know is that I'm not giving up," he said.
She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. He tucked his fingers beneath her chin to coax her to open them again. Those clear blue eyes shimmered in the dim lamplight, sending his mind back to that moment he'd seen them for the first time, that moment when he knew his life was never going to be the same again.
/> "I'm not leaving this island until the end," he said. "That's a promise. Even if you put on that dress, walk up that aisle, say those vows, I'll still be there."
"I don't understand," she said quietly. "Why would you do that?"
"Because with every second that passes, I'll be praying you change your mind."
Sarah let out a soft sigh. "Why are you making this so hard for me?"
"If it's hard, it means you're having second thoughts. I just want you to know it's never too late. Until you say I do, it's never too late."
Then he slipped out the door.
Ten minutes later, Nick sat in the lobby bar, sipping a beer and feeling miserable. A few stools down, a man and woman sat smiling and giggling together, looking so happy, happy, happy that Nick wanted to barf.
Gregory grabbed a dishtowel and wiped up a few drops of water from the bar. "So tell me," he said with a smile. "Did yuh get de gal, or nah?"
"That's still up in the air."
"Don' give up."
"I'm not giving up. It's just a tough hill to climb."
"So yuh nah de betta mon after all?"
"I am," he said. "I just haven't convinced her of that."
"Then maybe yuh should move on," Gregory said with a nod to Nick's right. "Look around. Pretty gals. Dey everywhere."
Nick turned to see Liz slide onto the barstool next to him. She wore a short, lime green dress and flowered heels, her wild auburn hair pulled into a busy ponytail at the crown of her head. She asked for Cabernet, and Gregory grabbed a bottle and filled a glass for her. Then he gave her a wink and moved on down the bar to chat with the nauseating lovebirds.
Nick hadn't missed Liz's interest in him when they went parasailing, and he wondered if that was where this was going. He hoped not. Under normal circumstances, he'd be every bit as interested as she was. But these weren't normal circumstances.
"Randall and Sarah," Liz said. "They're not right for each other."
Nick whipped around. Where had that come from?
"They're a bad match," Liz went on. "Randall is who she thinks she wants. You know. A tall, handsome, wealthy, important, Armani-wearing workaholic. But he's not who she really wants."
Nick hadn't expected this, and he felt a rush of hope. So it wasn't just him? Other people saw it, too?
"So who does she really want?" he asked carefully.
"Who does any woman want? A man who worships the ground she walks on."
"And Randall doesn't?"
"He has a lot of priorities. I don't think Sarah is one of them. I think she's a checkmark on the spreadsheet of his life, and that's about it. What's more, I think you think so, too."
Nick took a second or two to evaluate this situation. Liz wasn't just stabbing in the dark. She knew something.
"Have you been talking to Sarah?"
"Yeah. And she swore me to silence. But don't worry. I've never been particularly trustworthy."
"Sarah might not like you talking behind her back."
"She knows I can't keep a secret, so if she really wanted me to keep my mouth shut, she wouldn't have told me."
Nick wasn't sure he believed that, but he wanted to know what was going on, so he wasn't about to tell her to shut up.
"Maybe you'd better tell me what you know," he said.
"Everything. As long as everything is you and Sarah meeting in Park City and having a weekend together so hot it lit the sheets on fire."
"She told you that?"
"More or less. Now Sarah says you're here to try to keep her from marrying Randall." Nick sighed. "That makes me sound like a real jerk, doesn't it? Praying my own brother's wedding falls apart?"
"Hey, I'm on your side. Sarah has changed since she met him, and not necessarily in a good way."
"What do you mean?"
"It's like she's bending over backward to be what he wants her to be to fit into your family. If you're right for each other, you shouldn't have to do that." Liz traced her fingertip along the rim of her glass. "So…are you in love with her?"
Nick nearly choked. "In love with her?"
Not that it wasn't true, but he hadn't expected Liz to go there. She continued to stare at him with a small, knowing smile. This whole thing was making him positively miserable. Yes, I'm in love with her! A million times yes!
But Liz had already proven she couldn't keep a secret or she wouldn't be talking to him right now, so that was the last thing he needed to say.
"I'm just here to make sure Sarah doesn't make a big mistake."
"Because you're considerate like that? Not the least bit self-serving?"
"That's right."
"And that's all you're going to say on the matter?"
"That's all I'm going to say."
Liz smiled. "This is so cool."
"What?"
"That you're in love with Sarah."
"I didn't say that!"
"You didn't have to."
Why fight it? If he denied it again, it was still written all over his face for anybody to see, and Liz was a better reader than most. "It's not cool at all," Nick said glumly. "It sucks. She's engaged to my brother, for God's sake."
"Ah. Soap operas. Gotta love 'em."
Nick sighed with frustration. “As I remember, Sarah referred to you as 'my crazy cousin, Liz.' She appears to have hit the nail on the head."
“Okay, Nick. Let’s cut to the chase. If we let her say, 'I do,' then you two are done."
Nick felt depression setting in. "I have only forty eight hours to make her see the light."
"I'd lobby from my side, but unfortunately she doesn't listen to anything her crazy cousin Liz says."
"Unfortunately, she won't listen to me, either. I talked to her tonight, but I blew it. I pushed too hard. Now she's going to be avoiding me."
"Then maybe it's time for plan B."
"What do you mean?"
"A covert operation."
"You'd better explain."
"We need to find a way to get Sarah to talk to you without knowing she's going to talk to you. Someplace where she can't escape. Then you make your case."
"I've already tried to make my case."
"Have you tried telling her you love her?"
Nick's heart skipped. "No. And I'm not going to."
"But how can you not tell her? How can you let her marry a man who's all wrong for her when you love her?"
"It'll backfire. She'll end up even more confused and angry than she already is."
"No. All we have to do is—"
"Stop," Nick said, holding up his palm. "I don't want to do anything underhanded. That's exactly the kind of thing that would make her run the other way."
"Suit yourself. But if you'll tell me your number, I'll text you mine. That way if you change your mind, you can get in touch with me."
Nick did as she asked, even as he knew he'd never go that route. Things were tenuous enough as they were. If Sarah knew he and Liz were conspiring behind his back, he'd never get the chance to speak to her again.
13
The next morning, Sarah rose from her bed and staggered to the bathroom, her mouth so dry she felt as if she'd eaten the stuffing out of the mattress. If that plus her massive headache hadn't tipped her off that she was experiencing the hangover of the century, seeing the empty wine bottle flung into the bathroom trash can would have done the trick.
She caught her reflection in the mirror and moaned with dismay. Her sunburn was still in full force, but now she had bags under her eyes and a three-inch pillow crease on her cheek. It was going to take a very long time to transform herself into something marginally presentable. She downed three aspirin and checked her watch.
Damn. It was already eight forty-five.
Knowing Randall would already be up and hungry, she called to tell him to have breakfast with Mona and his relatives, and she'd eat later with her family. She took a shower and pulled herself together as best she could, hoping she didn't look as bad as she felt.
Fort
unately, when she met her family, most of them were so intent on attacking the amazing spread of breakfast food that they didn't seem to notice what a mess she was. When Sarah spilled half a glass of orange juice and put salt on her pancakes, she just smiled and passed it off as wedding jitters and hoped everybody bought it. Through it all, she told herself not to think about Nick, which absolutely guaranteed that the only thing she could think about was Nick.
"Sarah?"
She blinked, suddenly realizing her mother had spoken to her. "Yes?"
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right? You look a little sick."
"I'm feeling just fine," she told her mother. "How was dinner last night with the Baxters?"
"Long," her father said.
"Carl!" Treva said, then turned to Sarah. "Don't listen to your father. It was a very nice dinner. Randall's family is full of interesting people. Did you know his uncle was once an ambassador?"
"No. I didn't know that."
"I can't say as I've heard of the country he was ambassador to," Imogene said, "but it was impressive just the same. Him being a world traveler and all."
"And dinner was delicious," Treva said. "Your father loved the food."
"It was a steak," he muttered. "What's not to like?"
"That weird sauce on top," Dickey said. "It was green."
"I just scraped it off," Murphy said. "It didn't soak in too much."
Sarah couldn't imagine what the green sauce must have been, but she could easily imagine Mona's reaction to three uneaten pools of gourmet steak sauce.
After breakfast, they went to the gazebo for the wedding rehearsal. Randall greeted her with a kiss. Mona eyed her up and down to see if her clothes were acceptable or her hair was properly styled or whatever other criteria she was judging by that day. Fortunately, if she thought Sarah looked as bad as she felt, she didn't say so.
Randall's groomsmen were huddled together, not so subtly eyeing Sarah's bridesmaids. Sarah had a hard time remembering their names. Maybe that was because they were two guys who looked as if they'd attended the same private schools, shopped at the same department stores, and had the same personal trainer. In other words, they looked a lot like Randall.
Giselle and the officiant showed up and walked them through the ceremony. Amazingly, Mona interrupted only twice, once to tell the groomsmen to stand up straight, and the other to remind Liz that when the ceremony was over and she adjusted Sarah's train so she could walk back up the aisle, she was to lower herself gracefully from her knees rather than bending over at the waist. Apparently everyone would be mortified if the wedding party's posture was less than perfect.
