Children of Destiny Books 1-3 (Texas: Children of Destiny Book 9)

by Ann Major

  It was one thing to observe Nick from afar; quite another when he started dating her younger, impressionable sister. After her second date with him, Lorrie had come home starry-eyed, and Amy had panicked, thinking Nick much too sophisticated and worldly for her baby sister.

  The next afternoon Amy went down to his boat at the club. It had been a sparkling summer day. He was in the cabin, busy at work on his bilge pump, and she had interrupted him.

  He’d come up through the hatch and stepped onto the deck of his gleaming white yacht, a piece of his pump dangling from his brown hand. He was shirtless and perspiring, a bronzed god of rippling golden-brown muscle. When he saw her, his expression became impatient, arrogant. Never had he seemed richer or more spoiled. Amy had felt all the resentment she’d harbored against him flare up.

  “Miss...er...?”

  It galled her that he had forgotten her name.

  “Amy Holland. Lorrie’s sister.”

  “Oh, yes. The workaholic lifeguard. I remember.”

  Was he mocking her—because she had to work?

  “I know you must be busy, and I shouldn’t be bothering you...” She paused, but he didn’t deny her words. “It’s because of Lorrie that I’m here.”

  “Really?” He raised his eyebrows. Brilliant blue eyes surveyed her. She had not been sure what they expressed. Disbelief—a certain cynical amusement perhaps.

  Amy felt uneasy being alone with him, furious and yet exhilarated. “Let me explain.”

  “Please do.”

  “She’s only sixteen and you’re twenty-two. She’s a child. You’re so much more sophisticated. You’ve had so many women.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  “One more or less can’t mean anything to you.” When he frowned, she refused to stop. “You could date someone else. Someone older and less impressionable.”

  He set the pump part on the deck with a thud and stepped closer, concentrating his full attention on her.

  “You’ve obviously made quite a study of me. You were always so busy blowing that little red whistle of yours, I hadn’t realized I’d made such an impression.”

  “Y-you haven’t.”

  “So you think I’ve had a lot of women?” There was a new note in his voice. A dangerous note. “So many that losing one could make no difference.”

  Amy felt numb with dismay. All she had done was make a fool of herself.

  “Who told you that?” he asked.

  “No one. I could just tell.”

  Again he raised his eyebrows. “So Lorrie’s only sixteen?” Amy nodded. “She lied to me about that.”

  Amy believed him. Lorrie never lied about important things, but on rare occasions she had been guilty of telling little white lies when she wanted something badly enough.

  He was watching Amy. “And you’re the big sister?”

  She nodded again. “By four years.”

  “Then you’re older...and less...impressionable.” Slowly he inspected her in the insolent way she’d seen him admire other more beautiful women. He laughed and said, “It looks like I picked the wrong sister.”

  The way he looked at her had made Amy feel funny inside. His casual attitude had unnerved her. She was sure he was secretly laughing at her.

  “You’re twisting everything I say around. I didn’t come down here to flirt with you,” she snapped.

  “Really?” He stepped closer and laughed again. She felt her cheeks blazing. He smiled down at her, as though he were very pleased about the way things were turning out.

  “I’m not flirting, either,” he said huskily.

  She felt on fire with anger and with some new, inexplicable emotion. “I’m just a joke to you.”

  “No.” There was a baffling intensity in his gaze.

  She was getting nowhere fast. Before he could say more, she turned and ran down the dock, but when she looked back, she found that he was watching her still, with the same darkly intense expression in his eyes.

  Why had she gone to speak to him? He’d seen through her, seen her own secret desire for him that she hadn’t even seen herself. All she’d done was make a fool of herself.

  He didn’t call Lorrie again, and the next week, he started asking Amy out. At first she’d refused, but he’d been very persuasive. There was an immediate affinity between them. They were both ambitious and driven to excel. They loved the water and boats. All too soon she’d fallen in love with him and had thought he’d loved her. Even trivial occurrences seemed to take on a special importance when she shared them with him. Nick spent every free evening at her house with her, not seeming to mind the shabbiness of her family’s little home. It wasn’t long before their romance blossomed into a love affair. Mutual friends began to warn Amy that she was getting in too deep, that although Nick had dated many women, he had never really been serious about any of them.

  At first Lorrie hadn’t seemed to be bothered about Nick’s asking Amy out, but as Amy fell more and more deeply in love, Lorrie’s attitude began to change. She began to withdraw and keep to herself when he visited. Then one night after she stumbled upon Nick and Amy kissing, the change in her became more dramatic. She seemed to go wild and started dating Nick’s younger brother, Jack. He would pick her up on his motorcycle, and she wouldn’t come home for hours.

  When Amy expressed her concern about Lorrie dating Jack, Nick had laughed, saying that, yes, his brother could be wild at times, but Jack really liked Lorrie. Nick had told Amy he understood her urge to constantly meddle in a younger sibling’s life—he was guilty of it himself sometimes—but it was an impulse one should fight.

  “But Lorrie doesn’t have a mother,” Amy said.

  “She has you, and you care for her and spoil her more than any mother would,” Nick had replied. “Lorrie’s lucky. If I’d ever had someone like you to love me, I wouldn’t have wanted anything else.” His eyes on her had softened like his words.

  Amy had forgotten her initial impression of Nick and had believed he loved her—until that last night of the summer before he was to leave L.A. for Berkeley. He had taken her out for dinner, and then afterward they went out on Sebastian’s boat and ended up making love on it. Nick had driven Amy home, dropping her off and saying he’d return to the apartment he and Jack shared so he could pack.

  Amy had promised Nick she would transfer to Berkeley and would join him in a few weeks. That night on a sudden impulse, after he’d gone, she’d driven to his apartment, just to see him one last time.

  Amy bit into her bottom lip as she remembered.

  When she’d gotten to his apartment, she’d heard hushed voices coming from beyond Nick’s door. Nick hadn’t been alone. Lorrie was there too, and as Amy stood outside the door and listened, she’d heard soft cries. Every warm emotion in her heart had turned to ice.

  Finally, hoping she might have made a mistake, Amy had gone to a window and peeked inside through the half-drawn shades. There was no mistaking what she saw.

  Lorrie was in Nick’s arms, on his bed. She wasn’t wearing much. Nick was speaking to her softly. Jack was nowhere in sight.

  The scene had been too incriminating for any explanation to wipe it clean. Too hurt to confront them, Amy had rushed home. Somehow, Lorrie must have seen her because later her sister had come to her and confirmed Amy’s worst suspicions. She’d begged her forgiveness.

  Amy remembered Lorrie’s stricken, bewildered face. “I didn’t mean for it to happen! I didn’t! I tried to stop loving him when you started going with him, Amy. I could see how much he meant to you. I even dated Jack—to forget Nick. But he was unforgettable.”

  “I know,” Amy whispered.

  “I had to see him before he left,” Lorrie had continued. “I didn’t mean for anything to happen, but when he kissed me, I couldn’t seem to stop him.”

  At this point she broke into a torrent of fresh tears, and Amy’s heart twisted with the agony of her hopeless love.

  “It was awful. I feel so guilty. I hate hi
m now for what he did to me. For what he did to you. And I hate myself. He never loved...either one of us. Oh, Amy, I’m so sorry. Please say it won’t matter. Please say you still love me. I don’t care about him. Not after...”

  Lorrie’s luminous eyes were wide with horror. Amy’s imagination had filled with lurid images of Nick with Lorrie.

  “It wasn’t what I thought it’d be,” Lorrie moaned darkly. “I’ll never care about him again, if only you’ll love me. If you stop loving me, I swear I’ll die.”

  For all her outward glamour and beauty, Lorrie was still a child. But she was more fragile, more easily wounded than any child, perhaps because she’d lost her mother so young, and Amy had always been fiercely protective of her.

  “Of course, I love you,” Amy said in spite of her own pain which included jealousy. She stroked her hair. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

  “You can have him. I’ll never go near Nick again.”

  “I don’t want him.”

  Lorrie looked up. “Then Nick won’t come between us.”

  “Never again.”

  “And you won’t go away with him?”

  Amy could feel her sister shaking.

  “No.”

  Slowly Lorrie had quieted down.

  As time passed, although Amy felt destroyed, she had tried not to blame Lorrie. Only Nick. Sometimes Amy had wanted to kill him, not just for his betrayal of her, but for what he’d done to a mere child. Lorrie was never the same after that night. Her innocence was gone, and there was always a sadness in her eyes. She rarely dated. She became more dependent than ever on Amy.

  Amy saw it all so clearly. On that first day when she’d gone to speak to Nick she had broken them up, and by doing so, she had inadvertently stolen the man Lorrie had believed she loved. Lorrie had been too immature to handle this loss. Nick had decided Lorrie was too young for him and had dated her older sister instead. But his initial attraction for the more beautiful Lorrie had lingered. When she’d come to him on that last night, even after a night of love-making with Amy, he hadn’t been strong enough to resist the temptation. He was a man of appetites—a man easily aroused. Once aroused, he could be very determined. No doubt he had even regretted what had happened. But it was too late for his regrets to make any difference. For all his appeal, he’d proven he was a man of weak character, and Amy could not forgive him.

  Maybe she could have forgotten him and that awful night if only there hadn’t been the baby. But she’d been trapped after she’d pretended to give birth to Triple. Nick had found out about Triple and had forced her to marry him because he’d wanted his son to know his father had wanted him.

  At least Amy couldn’t be sorry about Triple, no matter how much pain his birth had brought her. She loved him too dearly.

  Nick was the problem, she thought, still standing in the shower. He had to go before he started making trouble all over again.

  Amy turned off the water and got out, quickly toweling herself off with a thick Turkish towel and dressing in a pair of purple slacks and a voluminous pullover sweater. She dried her gleaming hair, wound it into a knot at the nape of her neck, and put on fresh makeup. While she went about these ordinary, habitual tasks, she kept wondering about Nick.

  What did he intend? It was alarming the way he knew just what to say and what to do to win the loyalty of everyone close to her. Sam and Triple had always adored him, and although at first the gloomy Apolonia had presented a challenge, Nick had hastily surmounted it by pretending an interest in her gardening. As for Lorrie, Amy couldn’t bear to think about their relationship. She was relieved that her sister wasn’t home.

  Amy had locked both her bedroom and her bathroom doors. Not that she’d expected Nick to force his way inside while she was showering.

  Since he hadn’t come looking for her, Amy decided to go looking for him. When no one answered her soft knocks at Triple’s door, she pushed it open. In the dim light she saw a suitcase spread open across Triple’s bed. Masculine toilet articles littered the navy bedcovers, along with the red slacks and silk shirt Nick had been wearing.

  One step into the room, and she realized she should have waited for Nick to look for her. The bathroom door opened, bounced against the door stopper, and Nick stepped boldly into the bedroom. Though she was standing in the shadows, the dazzling white light from the bathroom played over his immense body, and she had no trouble seeing him.

  He was naked. For an endless moment she could only gape in breathless surprise. She felt her cheeks grow hot, and her heart begin to hammer as she struggled to focus her attention on something besides bronzed skin and well-defined muscles. But no matter how she fought it, his virile maleness held her gaze like a magnet.

  He had just showered and a sheen of dampness glistened in his hair. The tangy scent of masculine aftershave lotion emanated from his smooth jawline. She caught the pleasant smell of fresh soap.

  Black slacks and a long-sleeved blue dress shirt lay carelessly over one muscular arm. He held a towel in his other hand. She hastily averted her gaze, but not before memorizing every detail of that flawless male body, from the planes of his hard chest to the rippling muscles of his shoulders, torso and legs. A surging ache rose from deep inside her as she longed both to be held in his arms and to let her fingers glide over the moist warmth of his flushed skin.

  Treacherous thought! Dear Lord! But it had been so long—two years—since she’d known anything other than the agonizing loneliness of living like a single woman—two years since she’d experienced the thrilling fulfillment only Nick could give her.

  And she’d told herself that that night after Jack’s service had meant nothing to her and that she wanted Nick out of her life forever!

  She gasped, acutely conscious of the implied intimacy of finding Nick naked in a their son’s bedroom.

  Nick heard the sound. Amused blue eyes discovered her in the darkness and studied her mercilessly.

  Amy wanted to die. Or at least to run.

  She remained frozen where she was.

  His throaty chuckle sent a tremor down her spine. “Well, well. Things seem to be going even better than I planned. I never expected you to come to me. And so soon.”

  Amy let out a low growl of fury. “I should have known you’d take this in the worst possible way.”

  “Or the best. Our viewpoints differ, as usual.” He grinned that white-toothed, loathsome grin that could have such a devastating effect on her nerves. “Tell me, what is it you need from me? I’m always happy to be of service—to such a beautiful lady, who just happens to be my wife.” He tossed his towel on the bed. His mocking tone, combined with his utter nakedness and perverse lack of modesty, gave his seemingly innocent remark an unpleasant double meaning.

  Her face turned as red as a wine grape. “I don’t need anything from you,” she snapped. “I’ll be in the living room, thank you.”

  “You’ll stay right here,” he commanded, taking a menacing step toward her.

  “Not when you don’t have a stitch on.”

  “That situation can easily be remedied,” he said softly, “if you really want it to be.”

  She regarded him with cool silence. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to stand here and watch you dress.”

  Amused blue eyes sparkled. “So you prefer me nude? I had hoped so.”

  She emitted a muted cry. “Damn you. Stop twisting everything I say.”

  “Okay, okay. Look, if I don’t mind dressing in front of you, why should you mind watching? It’s not as if you haven’t seen it all before.”

  “That’s hardly something I want to be reminded of.”

  “Really?” An eyebrow arched and met the wayward lock of gold that tumbled over his brow. He looked boyish and mischievous, and so dangerously attractive that she blushed again. “Then why did you come in here?”

  She was backing toward the door. “I knocked, you...you...” She searched for the worst insult in her repertoire, only to find them all hopeles
sly inadequate.

  “Why don’t you save that particular compliment for later?” he asked in a velvety, hypnotic tone.

  “Compliment?” she shrieked. She had almost reached the door to the hall. “I was about to call you a bastard!”

  “In my case that’s only the truth, remember?” he teased, not in the least perturbed.

  She had one foot out the door.

  “If you go, I’ll only come after you,” he taunted softly.

  “Without any clothes?”

  “I swear, I will.”

  She hesitated, recalling how he liked nothing better than to back up his obnoxious promises.

  “You may remember that I love running around the house nude,” he added, “especially if I’m chasing you.”

  “For your information, I’ve struggled to forget everything about your odious personal habits just as I’ve tried to forget everything about our short-lived marriage.”

  He moved closer.

  “Why do you keep strutting around naked?” she cried. “Why don’t you get dressed?”

  Without bothering to search for his underwear, he pulled on the black slacks. They hugged his male shape as tightly as a glove. She watched his bronzed hand tug the zipper up.

  “I’m flattered it’s been such a struggle—to forget me,” he said, letting his gaze linger on her face.

  Her own gaze was resting hungrily on the tanned expanse of that gold-furred chest. “You are so arrogant. You’re flattered even when I insult you!”

  He laughed boldly. “You could do worse, you know, than to have a man who thrives on your insults—since you love to dish them out.” Then he said huskily, “Some men are not so easily pleased. You’re lucky I have such a sweet disposition.”

  Sweet! That was the last adjective she would have applied to him. “Just get dressed,” she muttered.

  Feeling trapped, Amy turned her back on him and studied Triple’s gruesome collection of pets while Nick took what seemed an interminable time to dress. In one jar was a tarantula. Normally its hairy legs in motion would have evoked a mild shiver of horror in Amy at the very least, but she was too wary of the dangerous man behind her. In another jar there was an immense chrysalis, which Triple inspected first thing every morning when he jumped out of bed. There were frogs, beetles, turtles and other spiders.