Funny, he wasn’t at peace with this woman on too many levels, but he could still remember everything about her legs. Long, lean legs that looked great in shorts, that felt like warm silk wrapped around his.
“By any chance do you remember Anthony’s girlfriend from high school?”
She glanced at him and nodded, silhouetted in profile. The delicate line of her nose, the full lips, seemed so familiar. God, he was such an idiot.
“I do. Very pretty redhead, right?”
“That’s her. Well, she’s a private investigator nowadays. She works for the guy who originally bought this warehouse and renovated it into units.”
“So you bought it from him?”
“Nope. I bought it from Anthony, who bought it from him. After Anthony and Tess got married, they decided to get something bigger Uptown.”
“I’m sure they need it with the twins.” She cast one more glance out the window before finally sitting on the couch. “Guess it pays to know the right people.”
Nic didn’t reply, only watched as she slid the purse from her arm and put it on the floor beside her. After smoothing her skirt over her lap nervously, she finally lifted her gaze. They faced each other across the narrow expanse of table.
“So here we are,” she said.
“Here we are.”
“Thanks for inviting me over.”
He shrugged. “Thought you’d probably want to check out the place since Violet will be staying here, and with her going to the race, it seemed like a good opportunity to talk. I didn’t really want to hash through all this stuff in public.”
“You’ve been very decent, Nic,” she said in that soft voice he remembered so well, a voice that caressed all kinds of crazy places inside him. “Thank you for that.”
He inclined his head. Decent wasn’t coming without effort. “So, what are you thinking?”
“I’ve got some ideas, but I’d rather start with you and work from there, if you don’t mind.”
He suspected she didn’t want to impose, to suggest something that might make him feel obligated. Made sense that she’d want an idea of what might be too much time or too little for him. Then there was the whole money issue. He supposed he should be glad she wanted to accommodate his wants and needs for a change. He couldn’t manage it, though. He still struggled with too many conflicting emotions. And the anger, always the anger.
But Nic wanted to keep things productive, didn’t want to dwell on the years he missed or the fact she’d thought it was okay for him to miss them. Bottom line was: she was the mother of his child. They needed to put aside everything else and start there. They needed some sort of working relationship otherwise the future wasn’t going to be constructive for anyone.
He wished he could have come up with something brilliant, something that solved all their problems. He was supposed to be a problem-solver. That was the whole reason the mayor and the U.S. attorney had wanted him to become chief. But his abilities got real cloudy when it came to Megan because the only solution that made any sense made no sense at all.
“Okay,” he finally said. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking as I’m sure you have.”
She nodded, so serious.
No damn sense at all. He couldn’t even believe he was going to suggest it. Ignoring the heartbeat suddenly pounding so hard it echoed in his ears, he forced out the words that would breathe life into the stupidest idea he’d ever had. “I think it would be in everyone’s best interests if you accepted the project here in New Orleans.”
Megan blinked as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. Then she gave a quick little shake of her head. “You do?”
He nodded, giving voice to the problems that had been battering the inside of his skull nonstop. “Think about it, Megan. Violet doesn’t know me. I don’t know Violet. You live on another continent, which means the only way I’m going to get to know her is on vacations. A week or two here and there isn’t going to do the trick. And quite frankly, it’s not good enough. Even if you both were willing to commit to summers, it’s not as if I can take all that time off, and she has a life. She’s not going to want to drop everything for two months and sit around here waiting for me to get off work.”
He leaned forward, folded his hands over his knees, his case gaining speed in his mind. “I know how this works. I have divorced friends. It’s tough. I don’t want to be a father who sits at Starbucks staring at my kid on alternate weekends with nothing to say. I’ve missed everything already.”
He hadn’t meant to bash her with reality, but she blanched anyway, her chest rising and falling on a deep breath as she forced herself to keep meeting his gaze.
“If you take the project, you’ll relocate here for a year or two, which is what you guys are used to doing anyway. I’ll get time with my daughter. She’ll get time with my family. You won’t have to ship her off alone for crazy periods of time, and we can figure out how to parent together. It’ll be the easiest transition all the way around.”
Of course, it in no way addressed how he was going to feel about Megan being so close. Especially when anger kept rearing its ugly head, stealing his good sense and reason and making him rehash all the events he’d missed in his daughter’s life.
Making him dwell on feeling betrayed.
He shouldn’t be reliving all the feelings he’d once had for this woman, a woman who could claim to love him then run away and not look back. A woman who could lie through her teeth.
He shouldn’t care at all. The past was fifteen years over, but it didn’t feel that way. He was reliving, big-time. The damned confusion he’d felt when she’d dropped off the planet. The shame he’d felt when her father had verbally taken him out, accusing Nic of taking advantage of his daughter, claiming Nic wasn’t good enough for her, would never be.
The disbelief. The stupid ass he was had refused to believe Megan wouldn’t contact him no matter what her father said.
And he was supposed to understand now? Forgive?
He wished he had a brilliant solution for that one, too, because as he met her blue, blue gaze, Nic realized what was angering him most of all. She’d lied about so many things. How could he believe her claims that she’d ever loved him?
And why in holy hell did it still matter now?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MEGAN KNEW EVERYTHING Nic said made sense, such perfect sense the arrangement seemed divinely inspired. She’d been considering this move for a variety of reasons, debating whether the time had come to finally face this mess she’d made.
Nic. Violet. Her parents.
Such a mess. Every time she confronted an issue, instead of getting better, the situation seemed to get worse. And she totally hadn’t counted on the reality of facing Nic again, the reality of sitting here with her heart pounding too hard because he’d asked her to come home.
No part of her thought Nic wanted her here for his own sake. He hadn’t forgiven her. He didn’t care for her anymore. He only wanted her in New Orleans because her presence made sense in the broader picture. Megan understood that.
But she didn’t feel it.
No, she comprehended Nic’s reasoning. And she appreciated that he wanted what was best for their daughter. But all that knowing didn’t stop the crazy expectation that was making it impossible to catch a good breath or the wild fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Reactions she’d felt long ago for this man.
Marie had been right. Time hadn’t resolved Megan’s feelings for Nic in any way. How could it? She hadn’t ever been able to move on. Her ties to him and the past had been alive and well every minute of every day in their daughter.
And she’d dated some very nice men through the years. But Megan had always stopped short when it came to considering rearranging their lives to include someone new, had never loved a man enough to make a special place for him in their family.
No small wonder she’d been a train wreck ever since she’d been offered the Helping Hands project. Her boss had thought he was doin
g her a favor, offering a welcomed chance to come home. But coming home would mean facing her feelings for Nic, ending their long-ago relationship to begin a new one as single parents who were united in the best interests of their daughter.
Megan watched as Nic went to stand in front of a window, recognized in a rare flash of insight that he was as conflicted as she was. Not because he let her see. No. The Nic of the past hadn’t been nearly so guarded or skilled at hiding his feelings as this Nic. No doubt his face wouldn’t have revealed a thing. But with his back to her, she could see tension all over him, in his shoulders, the way he held his head, the fingers slightly flexing into fists.
The irony of the situation might have made her laugh, or more likely weep, at the bittersweet truth—after all these years they were united in circumstance and in conflict, but they were more separated than they’d ever been by geography.
Because of her actions.
And Megan knew right then how she would respond, even though she didn’t know where she would find the strength to step aside and pretend she didn’t still care deeply for this man.
She owed him.
She owed their daughter.
Somehow she would find it within herself to end the past and start the future. She was a strong, independent woman now, not the clueless eighteen-year-old she’d once been.
“You’re right, Nic. Accepting the project does make the most sense. Violet and I will come to New Orleans.”
His shoulders tensed. She wouldn’t have thought that was even possible, but she could see the slight flexing of muscles beneath the Henley shirt he wore. Then he turned toward her, an absurdly slow motion as she braced herself for his reaction.
“You will?” For an unexpected moment, she could see behind the law enforcement mask that hid the man so well. She could see Nic, the boy he’d once been, the boy she’d fallen in love with.
But only for an instant.
Then the surprise vanished as suddenly as if a channel had been changed by remote control.
“I think you’re right,” she said again, amazed by how rational she sounded when there was nothing rational about the way she felt. “We want the transition to be as easy as possible for Violet.”
Even though she couldn’t think around this man.
Hadn’t ever been able to.
But Megan held his gaze steadily, tried to project a confidence she didn’t feel in any part of her. Suddenly, she couldn’t sit still for another second.
Sliding to her feet, she said, “Do I get a grand tour of the place? I’d love to see it.”
Nic looked as relieved as she felt. The poor man.
“Living room.” He motioned perfunctorily. “Windows overlooking the courtyard. Windows overlooking the street. You can actually see the bridge from here.”
“Really? Bet it’s lovely at night.”
“Come look.” He covered the distance in a few long strides, soft-soled Doc Martens silent on the wood floor.
Opening the shutters, he motioned her to him. Then they were standing shoulder to shoulder, peering out to the city. She forced herself not to notice the warmth radiating from his body. The way the top of her head only reached his chin. She might have been a silly eighteen-year-old again for the way she was aware of everything about him.
She forced herself to look out the window. The city lights were already twinkling in the fading twilight.
“Wow. You can see the bridge. And you’re only on the fourth floor. I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Higher ground, believe it or not. Who knew we even had higher ground in New Orleans, right?”
“Really,” was all she said, because then his hand slipped over her elbow and he led her away.
“Breakfast nook.” He motioned to the small area that adjoined the kitchen by a pass-through bar.
He’d chosen a circular table that didn’t take up much space but would be perfect for him to sit with the newspaper spread out before him, enjoying the sunrise through the eastern windows, sipping morning coffee. In fact, an espresso machine sat on the bar occupying an esteemed place, the stainless-steel carafe polished to a gleam.
“Hallway with a guest bathroom.” He pushed open a door to reveal a small, but nicely decorated bathroom, complete with hand towels and ornamental soap.
“You keep a really neat house, Nic. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be.” He gave a snort of laughter. “One of Mom’s stylists moonlights for a cleaning service. Ever since Vince finished med school, I’ve been able to afford her. You met her—Corinne. She was at lunch.”
“I did.” Megan thought so, anyway. There’d been quite a few people there and she hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly.
They moved out of the living room.
“My office.” Swinging the door wide, he revealed a sparsely furnished room with a neat desk and the requisite computer setup. He narrowed his gaze. “I suppose I can turn this into Violet’s room. Do you think she’ll want to decorate?”
Megan’s heart broke then, into a thousand little pieces. He knew almost nothing about their daughter. Had no clue the amount of effort she spent personalizing her bedrooms every time they relocated. Creating each one as if it was a work of art. Violet’s way of empowering herself to feel at home in a new place.
The tribal room in Ghana with the ebony bed frame that Bonsom had carved by hand especially for her.
The Oriental inspired room in Hat Yai with the shoji screen that she simply had to have that cost Megan a small fortune.
Her room in Chile was a hands-on room. She’d been painting a mural on one wall the entire time they’d lived there. And she still wasn’t finished.
Nic had no clue. Because of Megan.
“She’ll want to decorate herself,” she said. “She’s very into creating the perfect space. I’m thinking her space at Dad’s will be the most special yet.”
“Okay.” He nodded decidedly. “That’ll give us something to do. We can shop for her room.”
“She’ll like that.”
He didn’t seem to mind giving up his office, but Megan imagined with the nature of his job, he probably did most of his work at the police station.
“Good thing this is a two-bedroom unit,” he said. “There are only a few in the building. I just bought it off Anthony. I didn’t really care either way. But the corner units are the best in the place.”
And if there were only two bedrooms then the next door he opened would be…
“My bedroom.”
She leaned in only far enough to see into the masculine personal space. Dark wood. Cherry, she thought. Dresser. Armoire. Bed. Queen, by the looks of it. Comforter and matching shams in a simple pattern of rusts and browns.
There was something about seeing the broad expanse of mattress on the heels of discussing their daughter that made everything feel too raw. For Nic, too, from all appearances. He pulled the door shut with a decided slam and was leading her the way they came, suddenly all brisk business.
In the kitchen he headed straight to a cabinet and pulled open the door.
There was a wine rack inside with a variety of bottles resting neatly on their sides.
“Do you like red?” he asked. “I hope so. I only have red.”
“I like red.”
“Good.” He scanned the rack. “Merlot? Cab?” He slid a bottle out of its slot. “I’ve got a malbec. From Argentina, I’m afraid. Not Chile.”
“I like malbec.”
He nodded, and she stood in the entrance of the kitchen, watching a new aspect of Nic revealed. He liked wine. She hadn’t known that way back when as they hadn’t been of legal age to drink. Reaching into another cabinet, he retrieved a decanter, then went through the practiced motions of opening the bottle and pouring.
“So how does this work, exactly?” he asked.
“What?”
“Do we need to find you a place to live?”
Megan folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the archway. “Usu
ally my firm scouts a few places for us to choose from. Then we decide when we get into town. Doesn’t have to work like that, though. Just saves me from making a long trip. We could actually take a look around now since we’re here. Violet would probably like that.”
Anything that got a smile out of her daughter would be a good thing.
He took two wineglasses from an overhead rack then set them beside the decanter. “Might be a good idea. She was gunning to stay in New Orleans.”
“Was she?”
“Hinted around about how I’d get to see her all the time if she lived here.”
Megan nodded, forcing back the hurt that nearly stole her breath. She wasn’t surprised. No. Not after their interaction the other day. Just hurt that Violet was so eager to leave their life behind, leave Megan. As if all the years hadn’t counted for anything. God, Megan knew this feeling all too well.
She reminded herself that she’d reared Violet to be an independent young woman. Independence meant figuring things out for herself and how to cope in constructive ways. For Violet to do that she had to step away from her mom and learn to stand on her own two feet, to trust her decisions.
Megan hadn’t anticipated that part.
Or how much it would hurt to let go.
“Violet’s working through her feelings about everything and trying to exercise some control.” An explanation for Nic. A reminder for herself. “That’s a good thing. My job is to have faith in her. If I believe in her, she learns to have confidence in the choices she makes.”
Nic stared down at the glasses, seemed to consider that. “She’s giving you a hard time?”
“What makes you think that?”
“She’s fourteen.”
He knew firsthand what raising a teenager was like. Times five. Which was probably why the man was currently single. Had he ever come close to getting married? Any closer than she had?
“She’s coming to terms with the fact that her mother isn’t perfect.” Megan wasn’t going there. “That’s never easy.”
“It’ll take time for everything to settle in. For all of us.”
“It’s a big shock.”
He slanted his head and met her gaze. “Even for you?”
Then There Were Three Page 15
