6
NICKY WAS STILL trying to decide how she felt about Andrew’s actions as she pulled into his driveway. She had followed him from the motel in her own services able little car, with nearly everything she owned packed into the trunk.
On the one hand, she found it rather flattering that he’d been concerned enough about her safety to invite her to stay at his home. He hardly even knew her, after all, and there’d been times during the evening when she’d wondered if he was anxious to be rid of her.
On the other hand, she resented his arrogance in extending the invitation—which had sounded suspiciously like an order. She had never done well with orders. He’d gone along easily enough with just about everything she’d suggested during the evening, but he’d made it quite dear that he had no intention of leaving her at that motel.
Why had he asked her here? Had it been strictly an impulsive, charitable gesture, motivated by simple concern for her welfare? She’d never liked taking charity.
Or were his motives less noble? Did he really intend to offer her a guest room, or was he hoping she would share his bed? And if that was what he had in mind, what would she say?
Casual sex had never been her style—but she wasn’t sure she could resist Andrew Tyler. Just remembering the way he’d kissed her in Uncle Timbo’s woods made her tremble again.
She knew he was attracted to her—she’d be a fool not to know it by now—and she was obviously attracted to him, too. More than she wanted to admit, in fact. But she didn’t care for the idea that he saw her as an easy conquest. A holiday fling. A New Year’s novelty.
She didn’t want to be hurt again.
After all, she thought, biting her lower lip as she sat behind her wheel, staring blindly at the large Colonial style home he’d led her to, she had no reason to believe that Andrew had fallen as hard for her during the eventful evening as she had for him.
She certainly hadn’t intended to fall for him; her first impression of him hadn’t even been all that positive, other than to make note of his good looks. She’d thought him stuffy. Stiff. Humorless. Overindulged and overly proud.
That impression had lasted less than an hour. Oh, she still thought part of the description applied. But she’d learned this evening that there was much more to Andrew Colton Tyler III than originally met the eye. More than even he suspected, perhaps. And she found every facet of him intriguing.
She just wasn’t at all sure he felt the same way as he learned more about her.
A tap on the driver’s-side window made her realize how long she’d been sitting there, lost in her thoughts. “You haven’t fallen asleep, have you?” Andrew asked through the glass.
She smiled, shook her head, and opened the door. “Just drifting for a moment,” she said lightly. “So this is where you live.”
She hadn’t been surprised when they’d driven through manned security gates to his home, or to find that the neighborhood was an exclusive one. The homes were relatively new, all having been built within the last three years. The large, uniformly elegant houses were positioned around an eighteen-hole golf course. The lawns were large, immaculate and professionally landscaped. Intimidatingly perfect.
“Yes,” Andrew said. “This is where I live.”
“Nice.” She climbed out of the car and reached into the back seat for her overnight bag, hoping her sudden attack of nerves didn’t show in her expression. Maybe she should have gone to her cousin’s apartment and crashed on his broken-down couch. Or stayed in the motel, despite Andrew’s misgivings.
Had she allowed him to persuade her to come with him because she’d given credence to his warnings—or because she hadn’t wanted him to say goodbye and drive away?
Leaving both their vehicles parked in the circular driveway, Andrew took her bag and led her up the steps to his front door. He unlocked it, opened the door and stepped aside to motion her to precede him. He flipped a switch to turn on the crystal chandelier hanging two storeys above the marble floor of the foyer.
“Welcome to my home,” he said, looking at her without a smile.
The words—and the tone in which he’d spoken them—made her shiver. She moistened her lips, looking up at this man she’d met only hours before.
His dark brown hair was disheveled, tumbling onto his bruised and bandaged forehead. There was another bruise darkening on his left cheek, and a smudge of dirt on his right. His bow tie was crooked; his once-pristine-white shirt spotted with dirt and blood. His jacket was torn, his pants wrinkled, and both were dusty from the tramp through the woods. A small clump of dried leaves had stuck to the toe of his right shoe.
He should have looked rather foolish. Out of place in the elegance of this almost-sterile, tidy home. He didn’t. Even after the misadventures they’d shared during the evening, he looked more regal, more composed, more supremely in command than any man Nicky had ever known. She glumly suspected that it was she who looked out of place.
“My housekeeper lives in a separate wing off the back of the house,” Andrew explained. “I’d rather not disturb her at this hour, so I’ll show you to your room, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.”
He nodded and motioned toward the curving stairway. She climbed it slowly, holding on to the polished mahogany railing for support. Her feet were beginning to throb after walking so much in the high-heeled shoes. She was more tired than sleepy, but a hot shower and a soft bed sounded very good to her just then.
She wouldn’t mind sharing either of them with Andrew, she thought wistfully, then steeled herself against such wayward, unwise fantasies.
“First door on the right,” Andrew instructed.
Without looking at him, Nicky nodded and opened the door to the first bedroom on the right. It was lovely—antiques and lace—and looked completely ready for an impromptu guest.
Andrew set her bag on the floor, pointed out the attached private bath, and brusquely but politely urged her to make herself at home.
“How many bedrooms do you have?” she asked, curious about the size of the house in which she’d be sleeping.
“Five. Four in this wing, and the master suite down at the other end of the hallway, past the stairs. That’s where I’ll be if you need me during the night.”
Nicky glanced at her watch. “Night is almost over. I think it officially counts as morning now.”
He gave her a fleeting smile. “That’s why I gave you a bedroom that faces west, rather than east. I didn’t think you’d be ready for sunlight for several more hours yet.”
“Thank you.” She set her purse on a delicate Queen Anne writing desk and turned to face him, tucking a curl behind her ear in an automatic, self-conscious gesture. “I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable here.”
“Sleep as long as you like,” he told her. “I doubt that I’ll be up before noon.”
She moistened her lips and glanced at the big bed. It looked comfortable, but a bit lonely. She reminded herself that sided slept in other lonely beds, though few as lovely as this one.
Andrew moved toward the doorway. “Good night, Nicole.”
She had a sudden, inexplicable twinge of panic at the thought of being left alone in this beautiful room. “Andrew?”
He lifted an inquiring eyebrow beneath the thick bandage. “Yes?”
“Are you all right? Is ... er, is your head hurting?”
He touched the bandage. “It’s fine. A little sore.”
“Don’t get the bandage wet.”
“I won’t. Good night.” He turned again toward the doorway.
She clenched her fingers in front of her. “Andrew?”
Again he paused. “Yes?”
“Thank you again for helping me with the dog. I feel much better knowing she has a good home now.”
“I didn’t do much for the dog, but you’re welcome, anyway.” Once more, he moved toward the doorway.
Nicky took a step toward him. “I, um—”
He turned to face her, his hands on his hips, a look of question on his face. “Is something wrong? You don’t like the room?”
“The room is lovely,” she admitted, suddenly sheepish. “I just thought—well, I thought maybe you’d like to kiss me good-night.”
His nostrils flared with his sharp inhale, his only visible reaction to her bold suggestion. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”
“Why not?”
He grimaced and glanced at the bed. His expression told her what she’d wanted to know. “You’re old enough to know the answer to that,” he said gruffly.
At least it hadn’t been lack of interest that had made him seem so eager to rush away from her. She found that knowledge reassuring as she took another step toward him. “Just a kiss?”
“Nicole...”
She rested her hands on his chest. “I, for one, would sleep much better,” she assured him, smiling.
“You’re laughing at me again,” he murmured.
“No,” she assured him. “Not at you.”
She could have explained that she was laughing at both of them—for being such an oddly mismatched pair, for being drawn together despite their obvious differences. Or maybe at herself, for falling prey to the old fairy tales and fantasies, for casting herself as Cinderella for even this one night. But she kept quiet.
This wasn’t a time for words.
She lifted her face to his. “Kiss me, Andrew.”
He seemed to fight an inner battle that lasted perhaps a full minute. And then he lowered his head to hers and kissed her with a fierce hunger that nearly melted her kneecaps.
“I wasn’t going to do this,” he muttered against her lips, though he didn’t release her. “I didn’t want you to think this was the only reason I asked you here tonight.”
She didn’t want to talk about why he’d asked her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “I want this, too.”
Whatever the outcome, she had wanted him since he’d kissed her at midnight and something deep inside her had acknowledged her fate.
He took her completely unaware when he suddenly bent his knees, scooped her up into his arms and lifted her high against his chest. And then he turned and strode through the open bedroom door, carrying her as effortlessly as if she were a child.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked at him in wonder. He still looked serious and stern and formal, but there was a rather primitively possessive glitter in his pale eyes as he carried her to his bed.
And this, she thought dazedly, was exactly why she couldn’t seem to resist him. Every once in a while, he simply took her breath away.
He carried her through a sitting room and into an enormous, masculinely furnished bedroom where a bedside lamp glowed softly in readiness for them. The covers on the king-size bed had been turned back, and the heavy, dark curtains were drawn. Would his thoughtful and efficient housekeeper be surprised to find that he hadn’t come home alone? Or was this something he did frequently?
Andrew set her on her feet beside the bed, his gaze locked with hers. “Tell me now if you want to change your mind,” he said, his voice a bit gravelly.
“No,” she replied evenly. “But first I want you to know that, whatever you might think of me, this isn’t something I do often. Or lightly.”
What might have been satisfaction flashed through his eyes, and then he smiled faintly and cupped her face in his hands. “Neither do I.”
She searched his face and recognized the truth in his words. She should have already known, she realized. Andrew was too much in control to act on impulse very often.
His romantic encounters would be as carefully planned and executed as his business decisions. He wouldn’t often take risks, or behave rashly. He was acting out of character now as surely as he had when he’d entered the noisy dance club. When he’d rescued the dirty stray, and then disarmed a young robber. When he’d tramped through the woods and over fences to drink home-brewed liquor with an eccentric old recluse.
And, though she couldn’t help wondering how he would feel about everything—how he would feel about her—later, after he’d had time to sleep and recoup, she wanted him to remember at least part of the evening with nothing but pleasure.
She placed her hands over his and smiled up at him. “Have I mentioned that you have beautiful eyes?” she asked whimsically.
“Thank you,” he said, typically grave about it.
She couldn’t help laughing at his formal courtesy, even under these intimate circumstances. “Well?” she prodded. “Aren’t you going to say something nice in return?”
“I’m trying to think of the words to tell you how beautiful you are to me,” he answered simply. “I saw you across the ballroom this evening and I was ... stunned. I knew then that I had to meet you. That I wanted you.”
Once again, he’d rendered her speechless. She felt her eyes go damp and misty, her throat tighten. “Oh, Andrew,” she whispered. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Abandoning the last of her doubts, she threw her arms around his neck and lifted her mouth to his.
Andrew pulled her tightly against him, kissing her as though he needed her more than his next breath. His intensity was one of the things she found particularly endearing; his thoroughness something she especially admired. She suspected that he would make love as competently and painstakingly as he did everything else. She was growing more impatient by the moment to find out.
He slid his hands slowly, savoringly, down her sides, shaping her curves. His hands lingered at her hips, then traveled slowly around to cup her bottom. She pressed closer against him, reveling in his warmth, his strength, his blatant arousal.
Carefully, he lowered the zipper on her short black dress, his fingertips tracing her spine as he bared it. She shivered with pleasure and kissed his jaw, then the slight cleft in his chin. He slid the dress off her shoulders and let it fall.
She had worn a strapless black bra, black bikini panties and dark panty hose beneath the garment. Panty hose weren’t the most flattering underclothing, she thought with rueful humor, but the dress had been too short for garters or thigh-high stockings. She smiled at him and kicked off her shoes, then proceeded to show him how quickly a woman could peel off a pair of panty hose.
She found herself flat on her back on the bed almost before she’d tossed the flimsy hosiery aside. Laughing and breathless, she watched in admiration as Andrew made short work of his sadly tattered tuxedo, revealing a firm, muscular body that was every inch as perfect as she’d envisioned. Karate had proven to be a most practical form of exercise for Andrew, she thought approvingly. And then she pulled him to her.
He kissed her, spending a long time exploring her lips, her mouth, her taste. Now that they were in his bed, he seemed in no hurry, and she was enjoying his kisses too much to rush him.
His hand slid down her bare arm, and then to her side, so close to her breast that her nipple tightened and tingled in anticipation. She arched slightly upward, invitingly.
Leaving his hand where it lay, he released her mouth to kiss her jaw, her throat. The expanse of bare skin above the lacy top of her strapless bra. She closed her eyes and arched higher, the invitation far less subtle.
He nuzzled the lace edging, tracing just inside it with the tip of his tongue. Nicky’s fingers clenched in his hair. Her breath seemed to be lodged somewhere in her throat. And then he slid the fabric out of the way and took her into his mouth. And her breath escaped in a cry of pleasure.
Her prediction had proven delightfully true. Andrew made love slowly, intensely, thoroughly. Spectacularly. By the time he reached into the nightstand drawer for protection, she was hot and trembling, so tightly drawn she felt as though she would shatter if she didn’t find her satisfaction soon.
“Hurry,” she whispered as he tore neatly into the foil packet.
His hard mouth quirked into a faint smile. “This will only take a moment,” he promised.
True to his word, he returned to her quickly, positioning himself above her. She looked up at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth as it occurred to her suddenly that something was wrong. Though rather flushed, Andrew’s face was still set in that serious, composed and rather detached expression she’d noted the first time she’d seen him.
Was their lovemaking really affecting him so little, when it was so terrifyingly momentous for her?
And then she looked deep into his crystal-blue eyes. And she saw just a hint of the dangerous, reckless side of him that he must have worked so hard to conceal during the past few years. The side of him that had taken over during the robbery this evening; that had probably driven him to prove himself in his business, despite his youth and his heritage.
She realized then that he wasn’t detached at all. And that he was very much in need of someone who could look beneath his rather forbidding exterior to see the very special man within.
She smiled tremulously and touched his hard, stern cheek. “Andrew,” she said.
Just his name. A name that was rapidly becoming her favorite.
He smothered her smile beneath his mouth, and that hint of wildness was in his kiss, as well. The clues were there, she realized, wrapping herself tightly around him. One just had to care enough to look for them. She couldn’t help wondering how often he allowed anyone close enough to try.
And then he moved against her and whatever coherent thoughts she’d had slipped away into a haze of mindless pleasure.
Whatever else she might suspect about him, she was soon left in absolutely no doubt about one thing. Andrew was very, very thorough.
NICKY COULDN’T SEE a clock, so she had no idea of how much time had passed before her mind began to work again, though her thoughts were still vague and sluggish. Exhaustion was beginning to claim her. She burrowed into Andrew’s arms and allowed herself to drift off, utterly content.
“Nicole?” Andrew’s voice was a gruff growl in her ear.
“Mmm?”
“Be here when I wake up.”
It was worded as a command. Something in his tone made it almost a plea.
Telling herself it was only her satiated weariness making her eyes burn, she smiled, pressed a kiss to his damp chest and murmured, “I’ll be here.”
His arm tightened around her bare shoulders. “Good.”
His even breathing told her that he’d already fallen asleep, as Nicky dozed off just as the room slowly lightened with the beginning of a new day.
She never would have dreamed that the old year would end quite like this.
ANDREW DIDN’T KNOW how long he’d slept, but he suspected it had been several hours. Nicole hadn’t stirred, and he tried not to disturb her as he turned his head to look at the bedside clock. Without his glasses, the oversize luminous numerals were blurred; he squinted them into focus.
One o’clock. When was the last time he’d slept past noon? He couldn’t remember.
He glanced at the woman beside him and smiled. Nicole was still dead to the world. Which gave him the opportunity to study her as long and as closely as he liked.
Her dark curls were wild and tangled, looking every bit as delightful against the pillows as he’d imagined they would. Her face was soft and unguarded in sleep, her cheeks lightly flushed. There was a smudge of mascara on her right cheek, just below her eye. He found it endearing rather than unattractive.
He couldn’t imagine ever finding Nicole unattractive.
Funny. Ashley had always looked prim and neat and unruffled, even after lovemaking. She’d lived in fear of having her makeup smudged or her hair mussed. And yet she had never looked as beautiful to him as Nicole did now.
Nicole lay on her stomach, her pillow cradled in her arms. The sheet covered her to the middle of her back, above that was only smooth, creamy bare skin. His palms itched to stroke it again. He could still remember how soft, how warm, how silky it had felt.
A strand of hair rested on her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth. He wanted to stroke it away, to replace it with his lips. He wanted to taste her, to devour her, to bury himself deeply inside her and lose himself again in that incredible pleasure he’d found with her before.
He wondered if he would ever get enough of her. Would ever look at her without wanting her.
He was in serious trouble, he realized with a deep frown. He wasn’t himself where Nicole was concerned. And he didn’t know what to do about it.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, he was apprehensive about the future. No woman—Ashley included—had ever held the power to hurt him. He hadn’t thought any woman ever could.
Now he wondered if he’d been foolish to be so smugly confident.
Something about Nicole scared him, even as it drew him. He wasn’t quite ready to define his feelings for her. He only knew that he wasn’t at all ready to let her go.
And he’d known her less than twenty-four hours.
He was really in trouble.
As though his wary thoughts had disturbed her, her lashes fluttered, and then her eyes opened. He couldn’t help wondering if she would wake disoriented, if she would look at him with a question in her eyes, trying to remember his name.
But her dark eyes were perfectly clear when they focused on his face, her smile radiant.
“Andrew,” she said, and the remnants of sleep made her sexy voice even huskier than before. As usual, it affected him powerfully.
Feeling as though it had been days since he’d touched her, rather than hours, as though he would starve if he didn’t taste her again soon, he pulled her unceremoniously into his arms and covered her mouth with his.
When he finally allowed her a chance to breathe, she giggled softly and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Good morning to you, too,” she said.
They were the last coherent words he allowed her to speak for quite some time.
THEY SHOWERED together, taking their time about it.
“This bathroom is absolutely decadent,” Nicole commented, peering through steamy glass at the large, luxuriously appointed room.
“It came with the house,” he replied lightly, concentrating on the soap patterns he was making on her back. Water dripped from his wet hair and down his face; he’d removed the bandage from his forehead earlier, though Nicole had tried to convince him to wear it a day longer. He’d reassured himself that he looked a bit battered, but not seriously injured. He didn’t intend to think of the embarrassing incident again.
“You’ll have to show me all of your house later. As nice as your bedroom and bath are, I’m curious about the rest of it. I’d like to see where you spend your time.”
“I once would have said my study was my favorite room. Since last night, I’ve changed my mind. Now it’s my bedroom.”
She smiled and turned into his arms. “That was very nicely said. You’re very good at seducing me, Andrew Tyler.”
He traced a warm drop of water down the side of her cheek, studying the way her wet curls framed her glowing face. “Does that worry you?”
Though she was still smiling, her dark eyes were suddenly serious. “Should it?”
“Probably.”
If she knew how tempting he found it to hold her prisoner in his bedroom until another new year began—or maybe even longer than that—she’d very likely bolt in panic. He’d never actually do anything like that, of course, but he could certainly fantasize about it, though he’d never been one to indulge in fantasies before.
He’d changed in many ways since Nicole had whirled into his life.
And he’d known her only a matter of hours, he reminded himself, trying very hard to cling to at least a shred of logic.
She studied his face, as though trying to read his thoughts. And then she smiled again and rose to kiss his chin. “Regardless of how you might intimidate everyone else, you don’t scare me, Andrew Tyler.”
He didn’t think it wise to let her know that she scared the stuffing out of him. He was trying not to admit that, even to himself.
Andrew dressed in casual clothing he’d taken from his closet, Nicole in a sweater and jeans that she’d dug out of the overnight bag he’d fetched from the bedroom where he’d originally led her. The bedroom he was very glad she hadn’t stayed in.
He sat on the end of the bed and watched as she applied a deft touch of makeup, leaving her hair to dry naturally into a delightfully untamed cascade of curls. She didn’t fuss over her appearance, he noted approvingly. The little makeup she applied was intended to enhance rather than conceal. Though she obviously took pride in her appearance, she wasn’t especially vain about it. He liked that. But then, there were many things he liked about Nicole.
“Do you have plans for the day?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing in particular. I’ll probably make a few Happy New Year calls, then be lazy for a few hours.”
“You can do that here. There’s no need for you to go back to that motel. You got all your things out of your room, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “Most of my possessions are in storage until I find an apartment. But I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality, Andrew. I can find a nicer motel for tonight.”
Everything inside him rebelled at the idea. “Stay with me today. And tonight.”
She set down her mascara and turned to face him, her dark eyes searching his face. And then she spoke. “All right. If you really want me to.”
“I want you to.”
She smiled. “Then I’d be delighted. Thank you.”
He felt as though he should thank her instead. But he only nodded and changed the subject. “You must be hungry. We never did get anything to eat last night.”
“I’m starving,” she said fervently.
“So am I. I’m sure Martha has something already prepared. She’d expect me to wake up hungry.”
“Martha?”
“My housekeeper. She’s a great cook.”
She twisted a curl around her fingertip. “Do you think she already knows that you, er, have company?”
“Probably. Not much that happens around here escapes her attention.”
Nicole didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I see.”
He thought he’d better prepare her for his housekeeper. “Martha has been with me a long time. She tends to treat me rather like a grandson, rather than an employer. There’s little formality between us.”
“And how will she react to me?”
“She’ll like you,” he predicted. Martha, like his mother, had been badgering him for some time to find a woman. She’d never been overly fond of Ashley, though she’d always been gracious enough to his former fiancée. She would probably approve of Nicole right off the bat. To be honest, he couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Nicole.
Nicole took a deep breath and gave him a smile that made her look a bit shy and vulnerable and infinitely sweet. “Well, since I’m about to faint from hunger, I suppose we’d better go find her.”
It was all he could do not to take her in his arms. He wasn’t at all eager to leave this room with her, to share her with the outside world. He had to remind himself that she needed food. As for him, the only thing he needed at the moment was Nicole.
Trouble, he thought again. Serious trouble.
But, for once, he found himself unwilling to consider the consequences of his actions. He had Nicole to himself for another day. He planned to enjoy every moment of it.