The edge of Laine's teeth sank into her bottom lip as she gazed up at Nick's carved profile. Her hopes took a slight dip but she buoyed them up with her explanation. "Colleges have to be competitive to recruit students these days, especially small colleges like this. Recreational facilities are a necessity. Despite Latham's reputation for academic excellence, not many people would choose to come here if we only offered a football field and a basketball court. I'm sure you can see that?"
Nick's broad shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "I might, but Uncle Phil is an avid traditionalist. He's happiest when institutions remain the same year after year."
"But times change. Being a successful businessman, he must realize that?"
Nick smiled indulgently. "He does, but to him Latham College has nothing to do with business. As I said before, he's amazingly sentimental about this place."
"But you're more objective," Laine persisted. "And since you're the person he trusted to come look us over, surely he'll be influenced by your opinion."
"Yes, I imagine he will be."
"And?"
"And what?"
"What kind of opinion will you give him?" Laine asked bluntly, slightly frustrated by his evasiveness. "Have you been at all impressed by what you've seen here so far?"
"No comment," Nick countered, laughing softly when she responded to his noncommittal answer with a disappointed sigh. To her amazement, he lifted one hand and ran it lightly over the silken hair that swept her forehead. Visible in the lamplit glow, his eyes glimmered with amusement. "Come, now, Laine, you can't expect me to form an opinion on the basis of this little tour. A million-dollar grant is nothing to be careless with. I'll need to talk to your father further and meet some of the faculty. And I'll want to see inside some of the buildings you've shown me tonight. You can see the logic in that, can't you?"
She could and she did but nodded in agreement somewhat reluctantly. It had been rather foolish of her to hope he would immediately decide Latham deserved his uncle's grant, but she had hoped he would nonetheless. Now she was forced to admit to herself what she had known intuitively all along: Nick Brannon didn't make hasty decisions. As he had told her himself, he was a very thorough man. Resigning herself to that vaguely worrisome truth, she unconsciously touched the hair he'd brushed his hand across and returned his knowing smile. "As I said, we've seen about all we can at night. Would you like to drop by the tavern now?"
"Show me where you work first," he requested with a grin. "I want to see where you have your clothes decorated with oatmeal cooky handprints."
Delighted by the prospect of guiding him through the building on campus she knew best, Laine launched into an enthusiastic testimonial to the nursery school. Her face was alight with animation as she told Nick how the school served the faculty and surrounding community by providing day care.
"And it's so helpful for the student assistants to get actual classroom experience," she continued, handing Nick her key to the four-room building as they ascended the steps. "Some of them have never dealt with small children before, but they learn how to here. Later, when they're assigned to some elementary school in the state to do their student teaching, they're always praised for their professionalism."
After Nick unlocked the door, Laine reached inside, flipped a switch, and walked into the lighted corridor. He followed, looking around with genuine interest.
"Are all your student assistants women?" he asked while she unlocked her own classroom. "Not many young men seem to want to teach primary age children, do they?"
"Unfortunately not. I wish more of them did want to, because I had a young man as an assistant last semester and he was terrific with the kids." Laine smiled reminiscently. "Looking at him, you would have imagined he'd rather play tackle on a pro football team. He was practically a giant, but the children adored him."
Nick chuckled wryly. "And I'm sure his sheer size helped maintain discipline."
"You could never hope to see more angelic children than they were when he was here. Made me wish I was big and brawny."
"What a waste that would be," Nick spoke quietly behind her, feathering his hands across her shoulders, lightly exploring the finely sculptured structure. "No, I much prefer you the way you are, Laine."
With his touch, she had tensed. Now she hastily swung open her classroom door and stepped inside while turning on the lights. A resigned sigh escaped her when she saw the gaily colored pieces of a wooden puzzle scattered across the sturdy short-napped carpet near her desk. "Apparently my student assistants couldn't wait to start celebrating the end of term. They didn't even tidy up before they left," she tossed back over her shoulder as she hurried across the room. It was a weak excuse to put distance between herself and him and she knew it but decided it was better than no excuse at all. Sinking down onto her knees, she began gathering up the puzzle pieces and arranging them properly on their woodboard frame.
For a moment Nick remained in the doorway, hands in his pockets as he watched her. When she finished the puzzle and was laying it atop a low table, however, he came to her side, extending a helping hand as she started to stand.
Without hesitation, Laine placed her fingers against his palm and was drawn to her feet. She busily smoothed the skirt of her dress until Nick gently took her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting her head back slightly. Her eyes met his. Suddenly she felt an attraction to him that was overwhelming in its intensity. Every fiber of her being seemed to have awakened with sensual awareness, and she knew he felt it too. Inexplicable excitement altered the rhythm of her heartbeat; it began to thud erratically. The building's silence surrounded them, creating an oddly intimate atmosphere. Trying to forget they were all alone, Laine forced herself to smile at him.
"Do you know what I'd like to do?" she managed to ask, though somewhat breathlessly. Dragging her gaze from him, she looked at the doorway. "Down there, at the east end of the building, I'd love to be able to add another classroom, one for children with special needs. One's needed here. Special children in the surrounding communities have to be taken to Savannah to school. And our special education majors have no chance to really work with such children until they student-teach." She sighed. "To be honest, I'd practically convinced Father to use some of your uncle's grant this year to add a special-ed classroom."
"Laine, what a devious beguiling little witch you are," Nick murmured, smiling indulgently. "You're trying to shame me into advising my uncle to award that grant."
She had to return his smile while admitting, "Well, maybe I am. But I'm doing it for a good cause."
"Agreed. However…" He paused significantly, shaking his head at her rather crestfallen expression. "Laine, I'm not going to make a decision about the grant until I know a good deal more about Latham, no matter how many good causes you espouse."
"But we really need that classroom here, Nick," she argued earnestly. "This old building wasn't designed for the handicapped, but an addition would have its own outside entrance and restroom facilities for children in wheelchairs." As she continued to list the potential benefits of a special-education classroom, he listened patiently, but at last she saw she couldn't persuade him to award the grant. He had a million dollars to consider, and since the classroom wouldn't cost nearly that amount, her appeals for her pet project weren't really getting her anywhere. She fell silent and simply looked at him.
"Your classroom sounds like a fine idea," he said seriously. "I'll certainly keep it in mind."
Believing him, she nodded, knowing his serious consideration was the best she could hope for at the moment. "But I'll remind you about the classroom again," she promised, determination uptilting her chin. "In case you happen to forget."
"Zealot," he chided teasingly as they left the room together and Laine locked the door behind them.
Five minutes later, Laine and Nick crossed the square again and walked leisurely toward the old tavern across from the bookstore. Even before they reached the tavern they had frequent glimpses of
the softly lighted interior when the heavy oak door swung open for new arrivals and the rare departure. A babble of excited voices, combined with muted background music, spilled out into the pristine silence of the square with every swing of the door. Inside, it was rather difficult to hear, so Laine practically had to shout when she asked Nick if he saw an empty table. His height was an advantage, and suddenly her small hand was clasped firmly into his much larger one and she was being pulled along with him as he threaded his way through the crowd. A tiny corner table had just been vacated.
"I'm afraid a waitress will never find us," Laine commented while she sat down in the chair Nick pulled out for her. "And if one sees us, she'll never get through that crowd."
Nick didn't hear. Draping one arm across the back of her chair, he bent down to listen as she repeated what she had just said. When he wisely informed her that he'd go to the bar and bring back their drinks, she nodded agreement. Watching him disappear in the sea of reveling students, Laine decided her father had made a mistake by suggesting they drop by here. Usually the tavern was a place for quiet relaxation, but the students were in no mood for quiet tonight. Freedom was at hand and they seemed to want to share their joy with anyone within a five-mile radius. The combined aromas of pepperoni and mozzarella filled the air, and Laine smiled to herself. She would probably never again smell pizza baking without thinking of this tavern. Waiting for Nick's return, she strummed her fingers lightly on the tabletop then smiled hello at one of her student assistants, Debby Wilson. The girl, much less shy than Mary Lou Baker, swooped down on Laine, her shoulder-length auburn hair bouncing.
"Who is that gorgeous man you came in with?" she nearly shouted in Laine's ear. "Is he new on the faculty or something? Will he be here next year?"
Laine shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint you, but he's just visiting campus briefly."
"Doesn't that just figure?" Debby yelled, pursing her mouth in an exaggerated pout. "All year long, I didn't have one good-looking instructor or professor." When Laine laughed aloud at the inadvertent insult, Debby's face went beet red. "Oh, but I didn't mean you, Miss Winthrop, really I didn't! You're a woman and you're very pretty. I was talking about the men."
Nodding, Laine smiled forgiveness then inclined her head toward Nick, who was threading his way back to her again. "Here comes gorgeous now."
"In that case…" Debby cast a longing glance at the tiny table. "I guess there's really only room enough for two here. Right? So I better move along before he gets here?"
Laine didn't insist Debby stay so the younger girl finally walked away after a rather dejected heaving of her shoulders.
Remembering Laine's preference, Nick brought her a glass of white wine along with a stein of beer for himself. Pulling his chair close to hers, he sat down, leaning his head to one side toward her. "This place reminds me of my long-lost youth."
"I didn't think you could remember back so far," she quipped, raising the wine glass to her lips. "Senility and all…"
Further conversation consisted of a few words tossed in here and there. Coherent discussion was virtually impossible. After ten minutes or so, though over half Nick's beer remained in the stein, he took Laine's hand and stood, pulling her up with him. "Let's get out of here."
More than a little happy to leave, Laine breathed a relieved sigh a moment later when Nick swung open the oak door for her to precede him outside. After the fairly uncomfortable warmth of the tavern, the night air was chilling. Laine shivered and rubbed her bare arms briskly, then was promptly enfolded in Nick's jacket, which he had removed inside.
Murmuring her thanks, Laine wrapped the jacket more snugly about her to better appreciate the warmth and the pleasant mingling of subtle fragrances of lime aftershave and tobacco. "I'm sorry, but tonight wasn't a good time to come. Too much exuberance because the year's ending. It's usually not so noisy or crowded in there."
"I understand, thinking back about some of the college parties I attended. I just wasn't eager to relive them this evening. Hope you didn't mind leaving."
"Not at all," she assured him.
A long silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Compared to the noisy tavern, the stillness of the star-studded night was welcome as they automatically walked back to Laine's house. Occasionally, she glanced out of the corner of her eye at Nick walking beside her. In the combined illumination of crescent moon and street lamp, his tan skin contrasted attractively with his white shirt where the strong column of his neck rose above his unbuttoned collar. Too soon, it seemed to Laine, they arrived at the foot of the walkway which led to the veranda. Nick stopped there.
Somewhat confused, Laine gazed up at him as she stopped too. "You're going in, aren't you? Or have you changed your mind about staying the night in the guest room?"
"I haven't changed my mind. It's too nice out here to go inside yet."
"Do you know the time? I left my watch on my dresser." When Nick told her it was nearly eleven, she was astounded. Time spent with Nick seemed to pass with incredible speed. "No wonder most of the lights in the house are out," she said softly. "Father's probably gone to bed already."
Nick said nothing. He moved closer to her and pointed heavenward to direct her attention to a falling star streaking across the black velvet sky.
"Umm. Lovely, isn't it?" she whispered.
"Very lovely," he whispered back.
Feminine instinct and the unusual huskiness of his voice made her overwhelmingly aware that he had been looking at her, not the sky, when he spoke. She looked at him, her eyes darting up to meet his, then lowering swiftly when she recognized the dangerous flicker of reflected moonlight in the dark green depths. He stepped closer, and she caught his right hand in both her own, knowing if she didn't, that hand would soon be on her and she might discover she very much liked being touched by him.
Tugging slightly at him, she started along the walkway. "It's late. We'd better go in now."
"Not yet, Laine," he said softly, pulling her back to him with incredible ease. Large but gentle hands slipped inside his jacket to span her trim waist and draw her against him.
The feel of his lean hard body was a truly physical assault on her senses. Her heart skipped several beats. Her breathing quickened as he molded her gently curved frame to the firmer longer line of his. She tilted her head back to look up at him. "Nick, I…"
"Don't talk," he commanded, and when she started to anyway, he lowered his head to brush her lips with his.
Whatever words she managed to utter were captured, then totally forgotten. His kiss slowly, seductively, deepened in intensity until his hard mouth took complete possession of hers. Spreading warmth weakened her legs. When Nick gently nibbled the full tender curve of her lower lip, her soft moan of pleasure opened her mouth slightly to the persuasive power of his. Though she had been kissed before many times and occasionally liked it, never had any kiss affected her like this. Startled by her own intense desire to respond with total abandon, she tried to resist. She meant to push away from him, but instead her hands lingered on his shoulders. Fascinated by the contours of taut rippling muscles, she traced them tentatively, then cupped his neck in trembling hands. Her fingers tangled compulsively in the crisp clean hair brushing his nape and she pressed closer to him.
Nick's warm breath filled her throat as he half-groaned. Hard arms tightened around her slender supple form, and his kiss became as forceful as he himself sometimes was, plundering the soft sweetness of her lips with insistent, ever-increasing demand. One lean hand cradled the back of her head, allowing no escape from the compelling possession of his mouth. But she had no desire to escape— she felt too gloriously alive, all her senses aroused to total receptiveness. Nick's free hand was moving over her back, arching her to him, his fingertips exploring the delicate structure of bone and warm firm flesh and sending tremors of delight feathering up and down her spine. Every sensitized nerve ending conveyed his message of passion.
Yet Laine's passion didn'
t rise to equal his until his lips sought the curve of her slender neck. Before, his kiss, his embrace had only been thrillingly electric, but when the tip of his tongue tasted the hollow at the base of her throat, he awakened primitive desire. Her breath caught when a shattering emptiness bloomed centrally within and clamored to be filled.
Resisting the dangerous lethargy that dragged at her, she turned her face into the warm hollow of his shoulder when he lifted his head, meaning to take possession of her mouth again. "No," she breathed and pushed lightly against his broad chest.
Nick's hands slipped slowly from her waist as he reluctantly released her. A faint smile of indulgence gentled his hard mouth.
Laine's answering smile was almost shy and her hand shook slightly as she gestured toward his car. "If you'll get your luggage, we can go in now and I'll show you to the guest room."
Silently, Nick complied and he didn't speak even as they entered the quiet house and Laine led him upstairs. While she flitted around the guest room to make certain all was in order, then showed him the door to the small adjoining bath, he stood and watched her, hands thrust into his pockets, his single suitcase on the floor by his feet.
Disconcerted by his watchful silence, Laine hastened to slip the jacket he had lent her off her shoulders. Willing herself to meet his intent gaze, she went to hand the coat to him, murmuring her thanks.
Warm eyes held hers captive as he inclined his head in a nod. Then he reached out one hand to slide his fingers into her flaxen tousled hair, an oddly caring gesture that did nothing to stabilize her heartbeat. Perhaps he knew that because he smiled faintly again as he nearly whispered, "Goodnight, Laine."
Passion's Price Page 4
