“It’s not that easy, Belle,” Nick said. “At Walter Reed, I was just another patient. But out in the real world? I’m some kind of freak and I know it. I know I should have died in that desert. I’m tired of making little kids cry and women gasp in horror. Fixing my leg was enough. I don’t have it in me for more surgeries.”
Isabelle rose and stood before him, her hand on the floor lamp behind him. “Let me,” she said, touching him gently under his chin.
He closed his eyes and nodded, once. Regret crashed into him. But really? When had he ever denied her anything?
Impetuous Belle.
Irresistible Belle.
With a single click, the soft muted light illuminated his face.
“Oh, Nick,” Isabelle said, softly.
Chapter Two
“Please go,” he implored, bright emerald green eyes meeting her clear blue gaze.
Ignoring him, with gentle fingers, Isabelle traced the outline of his eyebrows. A single tear welled and she let it freefall down her cheek.
Her hands paused at the healed gash under his left eye. It was deep and still looked red and raw. After so many years, would it ever heal and fade? “Your eyes are intact. It would have been a shame,” she said, her voice growing husky. “I always loved this shade of green.”
His eyes closed as her fingers explored further. Pain exploded in his heart with the sheer vulnerability he felt. This was worse than the surgeries. Worse than the detached care of nurses and aides. Worse even than his divorce.
“Does it hurt to talk?” she asked, tracing the scar near his Adam’s apple. A scar bisected most of his face and down his neck but he had been able to grow a light beard to cover the worst of it.
“Not too much, anymore. But yeah, the first few months were hell. Talking pulled at my stitches. It was better to stay quiet.”
“I guess we both know how hard that would have been for me to be quiet for months at a time.”
Nick’s lips quirked in a shadow of his former grin but Isabelle felt it was a minor victory.
“Can you breathe out of your nose?” she asked, trailing a gentle fingertip along the mangled nasal bridge.
“No, not always,” Nick said. “Braden has been after me to get it fixed but I just don’t think I can handle another surgery.”
Isabelle winced, realizing he considered Braden’s friendship and opinion more valuable than her own. “If it would restore your breathing, it would make sense,” she said.
“I just. You don’t understand.”
“I do,” Isabelle said, brushing her lips against the space between his eyebrows. “You were tired of surgeries.”
He nodded, accepting the touch. When had he last been touched by a woman, any woman, let alone Belle?
Too long.
When had he last felt a woman’s soft curves press against him?
Far, far too long.
Her hands continued and Nick forced himself to relax. Endure the exquisite pleasure-pain of having her so close to him. And yet so impossibly far away.
“This one at your neck,” she said. “That could have killed you.”
Nick nodded. Any and all of the injuries could have killed him but the piece of shrapnel he’d taken in his neck was probably the worst.
“Are there more?” she asked, her hand over his heart.
“My gear protected most of my chest and back,” Nick said.
“But your legs?”
“The left is in bad shape,” he said. Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask.
“Can I see?”
Naturally. He held out, his gaze dropping to his lap.
“Please, Nick? Don’t make me beg.”
Nick closed his eyes and nodded, head bowed. He rose so he could stand in the trailing ends of afternoon sunlight coming in the library. With a deft flick of his fingers and without pausing to rethink his decision, he dropped his worn denim jeans. He stood proudly in his boxer briefs, his body honed and hard from an intense workout schedule designed to maintain the remainder of his muscles.
Tuning Isabelle out, Nick bent one arm and leaned against the window and stared at the blossoming apple trees in his orchard. Long ago, he had learned to compartmentalize. There was no other way to survive military life, to endure deployment after deployment, if you didn’t.
~*~*~*~
Isabelle Decker knew she’d been a sheltered kid. As the youngest of three, she was the baby. As the only daughter, she had been denied nothing. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she’d been spoiled but.. oh, okay. She was probably spoiled.
But nothing – absolutely nothing – had prepared her for Nick.
His legs were like tree trunks, as though he methodically exercised in order to preserve every muscle he had. Where his right leg was covered in a generous amount of golden auburn hair, his left, in contrast, was conspicuously free of hair.
That’s not to say it was smooth because that would be the last word in the world to describe what was left of Nick Fox’s left leg.
Most of the inner thigh was blessedly intact but the tears in the skin and muscle were obvious. The coarse shred of muscle striation delineated the leg, making it look more like an illustration in an anatomy book than an actual human leg.
His knee was a mess of surgical scars, each line perfectly straight and brutal in their macabre beauty.
Her lips parted as she looked at his calves. “Both legs?”
“They did a muscle graft,” he said, his teeth gritted.
“Am I hurting you?” Her hand stroked him with gentle precision.
She was soft. So damn soft. And he felt like a fucking freak.
Nick shook his head, but Isabelle felt sure she was making him feel uncomfortable. She hated knowing she was possibly hurting him but was helpless to stop her exploration. “And skin grafts on top of that?” The heat of the moment rose as they looked at each other, Isabelle on her knees for a better look at his left leg and Nick standing tall and proud. His chin jutted out defiantly. Daring her to criticize what was left of his body.
He nodded and moved, breaking the rising tension. He reached for the waistband of his pants and pulled them back up. “You had your look at the bionic man,” he said, bitterly. “Now, get out.”
He watched, helplessly, as she turned her back and left the library.
~*~*~*~
Dinner time approached and still, Nick sat in the library, his fingers pausing over the pages of the latest business proposal he was considering. Guttenberg Braille Project had hit a funding wall developing a refreshable Braille eReader and was seeking additional funding.
The idea seemed so obvious to raising literacy in the blind community, but the technology behind heat reactive polymers was prohibitively expensive.
The dinner bell rang and Nick rose, determined to keep to his schedule, despite his visit from Belle. He had a company to run and employees who depended on him.
He pushed away the wave of loneliness that threatened. She left. It was over. He was alone again. Which is how he wanted it. So why did he feel like shit?
Which was why he was surprised to see Isabelle in his living room, fully dressed, and talking to Miss Tyler.
“Did you get a chance to review the financials for GBP, Nick?”
Nick held up the file. “Was going to look at it over dinner.”
“Will you join us, Miss Tyler?” Isabelle asked, her blue eyes friendly and bright.
“I thought you left,” Nick said.
Miss Tyler raised her eyebrow. “Firing me out, Nick? I assure Mr. Harper can find me a job in his organization in a heartbeat. ”
“No, of course not,” Nick said, feeling foolish. “I meant Belle,” he finished.
“I have nowhere else to be,” Isabelle said, her voice a soothing whisper as though calming a feral dog. “I only have a week to convince you to go to the wedding. I’m not wasting any of it.” Her chin tilted and she sat at the formal dining room table with the regalness of a queen. �
�Are you planning on standing there or were you planning on joining me for dinner?”
Nick sat and a tray was wheeled in. “Just leave it in the kitchen when you’re done,” Cook said. She shared a smile with Isabelle and Miss Tyler before leaving them for the kitchen.
“Full staff?” Isabelle asked. “And here I thought you were a complete hermit.”
Nick’s face hardened. “I’m not a hermit,” he said, hurt that Belle would think that of him. “I run a multi-million-dollar business as well as sit on the board for Harper Industrial. It’s not like I don’t have contact with people. ” He turned to Miss Tyler. “Were you going to join us, Miss Tyler? I can get an extra place setting.”
Miss Tyler smiled and brushed a stray silvery hair away from her face. “Thanks, Nick. Isabelle. But I have a date tonight. Isabelle, your suitcase is in the Blue Room. Nick can show you after dinner.” She nodded to them both and left, her stride brisk and purposeful.
Dinner began as an awkward affair with neither of them sure what to say or how to begin to build a bridge between their past friendship and their current situation.
“This is delicious. Cold duck?”
Nick nodded, staring at his plate and systematically cutting his dinner into small bites. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized Belle was to his right, keeping the worst of his scars facing away from her.
“What. Um. What proposal are you looking at?”
“GBP, or the Guttenberg Braille Project, is trying to bring to market an affordable Braille capable e-reader. The project stalled in Europe and the one in China is set to come out but with a price point of over three thousand US dollars.”
Isabelle whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”
Nick nodded, opening the folder. “It is, and naturally, puts it out of reach of many of the intended demographic. And, of course, you have to add the cost of books. They’re trying to work out a deal with the three biggest publishing houses to get translations in Braille. That would have to be shored up before we continue. But, literacy is essential to learning and many of the blind community aren’t even being taught Braille.”
“Really? So, they aren’t reading?”
Nick shook his head and pulled out a report, sliding it across the table. “From 1932 to 1960, blind people were taught to read Braille. But according to the report GBP included with their request for funding, adult literacy among the blind is only at 10%.”
“Oh wow,” Isabelle said. “That’s terrible!” She frowned. “How do they learn?”
“Audio or text to speak programs,” Nick said. He pulled out another report and frowned. “But of course, those things can’t teach punctuation, sentence structure, or other aspects of grammar. Reading comprehension for school kids isn’t as high among the blind because they aren’t reading. Sometimes, as you know, we all need to re-read things several times to really understand and grasp it.”
He nodded to a book that appeared on the table. “Not everyone has books appear right in front of them,” he said.
Isabelle looked. It was her old favorite, Love to Friendship and Back Again. She hid it on the chair by her side. Like she needed eleven copies?
Isabelle looked at the prototype that Nick held. Slightly longer than her cell phone, it was sleek and light. “Braille raises the pages, making the books thick and cumbersome,” he continued. “That was a big reason it fell out of use. Even storage in a library is a challenge.”
She held her hand out and lightly touched the slim device. “So the screen will raise with the words?”
“They’re working on a heat sensitive polymer,” Nick said. “I think one of the companies Harper uses works with polymer. I want to look into seeing if we can keep costs down by staying in-house.”
“Wow,” Isabelle said. “It sounds like you’re sold on the idea.”
“Yes and no. I agree it’s a needed item, but I need to review their business plan. Will it make money? Can it be marketed to international markets? Or am I subsidizing a losing, although well intentioned, item?”
“Is it always about money?”
Nick shrugged. “Fox Holding isn’t a charity. Eventually, I have to recoup my investment. “
“Literacy is important, Nick.”
“I agree. I want to look into it, for sure. I need to look into their distribution chain and determine where and how they’re coming up with their price point. I need to talk with a contact over at the publishing houses and see if they’re willing to work with us. This could be a great prototype for multiple companies to get in and support it. Once it gets rolling and we see what the demand is, we can expand and the price point will drop.” He stood, collected their plates, and placed them into the now quiet kitchen. He returned with two generous slices of cheesecake. “Looks like Cook thought of everything,” he said.
“Are we going to talk?” Isabelle said.
“Not over dinner,” Nick said. He looked down at his lap before meeting her eyes. “I just want to enjoy a meal with an old friend. It’s been a long time and I’ve…” his voice trailed off as tears clogged his throat. He cleared it. “It’s been a long time and I’ve missed her.”
Isabelle nodded and placed her pale hand over his larger one. “I’m not leaving, Nick. Everyone wants you back in their lives.”
“I don’t get company very often,” he said quietly. “Let’s eat first,” he said, tracing her hand with his thumb. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
Chapter Three
“I haven’t just been a hermit, Belle. That’s an unfair accusation,” Nick began. They sat across from each other in a small sitting room, a chess board between them.
“What do you call it?” she asked, moving her knight.
“Being in hospital. Healing from surgeries. Having more surgery. Lots of physical therapy. Weight training to learn how to walk on only a fraction of my calf muscles. Working with Miss Tyler, trying to keep my businesses afloat.”
“But you haven’t seen Sloane in almost two years,” Isabelle protested. “You two are still neighbors and you work with her father.” And you haven’t seen me in almost three, she thought.
“You’re right. Do you know why?”
Isabelle shook her head.
“You were a Candy Striper as a teen, right? What do people do when they visit hospitals?”
“Sit and talk to the patient.”
“Exactly.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I had stitches in my jaw and smoke inhalation scars. I couldn’t talk. It sometimes still hurts to talk. Any visitor would have just sat there and looked at me. Talked at me. Cried over the way I looked.” His hard green eyes bore into her with an intensity that was new. “How comfortable would that have made you?”
“But Sloane is like your sister.”
“What could she have done?"
“Friends don’t abandon each other, Nick. You aren’t an island. You are part of our lives here in Harper’s Mill and you disappeared.”
“So did you,” he challenged.
“I got a job and moved away. That’s completely different.”
“Is it?”
It wasn’t and she knew he was right but she refused to be backed into a corner when she was trying to make him see the fault of his actions.
Not hers.
“You hurt all of us. You denied your friends the ability to comfort you. You cut us all out, saying you didn’t need us. But we still needed you.” Seeing that he still wasn’t understanding, she continued. “If I were injured, wouldn’t you want to see me? Make sure I was okay. Help me if my strength waned?”
Nick sighed and rose to pour himself two fingers of whiskey from a decanter in one corner. “You may be right,” he said finally. He lifted the decanter in a silent invitation and Isabelle nodded. He returned with two cut crystal tumblers and handed one to her.
"But tell me this. How is it I was the one injured but you all felt hurt?”
Well, Isabelle thought, put like that, maybe he had a point, she thought. But sh
e persisted.
"The six of us were unstoppable once upon a time," Isabelle said. "And then everything just went away. Poof. Gone. What happened?"
They stared at each other, unspoken knowledge burning between them. "Do you want me to say it? Fine, I will. I broke us. Whatever we were — the six musketeers, the cul-de-sac six, the Decker kids and their friends. I broke us when I left and hurt you. You left in response and the rest. Well, I guess except for Miles and Diana, the rest were just collateral damage."
Tears stung in Isabelle's eyes at his heart-felt admission. Part of her had been hoping he would deny it. Blame someone else. But his own confession tore at her. "I think Braden and Sloane had their own issues," she said softly. "They had nothing to do with you and me. With us."
Nick nodded. "You're probably right. But still. My actions were first."
She nodded, the wind firmly out of her sails and she sat. Becalmed. But not for long.
“So, you’ll come to the wedding?”
He smiled. Tenacious Belle.
“I can’t, Belle. Aside from not wanting to create a stir at the wedding, I have a follow-up appointment at Walter Reed in Bethesda on Friday.”
“You couldn’t change it?”
“Have you heard of the waiting lists to get into the VA?”
“You’re Nick Fox, boy billionaire and super awesome CEO of Fox Holding. Doesn’t that count for anything?” She took a hasty sip of the whiskey and coughed a little, much to her chagrin and Nick’s quiet amusement.
“Not as much as you’d think,” he said. “The docs at Walter Reed know my case and are best trained to handle this.”
Nick raised his glass in a toast and took another sip. An alarm went off and he rose. “I have a conference call with Sydney at the top of the hour,” he said, dismissing her.
“It’s midnight!”
“Yeah, here. But it’s midafternoon tomorrow in Sydney,” he said. “And you really should go home.”
Loved by Beauty (Harper's Mill Book 4) Page 2
