9
ON FRIDAY, Andrew went to his office as usual, though with the same atypical reluctance to leave home he’d felt the day before. And then he blew a good part of his morning sitting at his desk, staring into space and thinking about Nicole. Wondering if she’d be there when he got home that evening. Remembering the dismay he’d felt when he’d walked into his house the evening before and found that she wasn’t there.
He’d never felt this way about anyone before. It bothered him greatly. For one thing, he was aware of how irrational it seemed after knowing her such a short time. Did obsession really strike that quickly? And was this obsession—or something more common, but no less unsettling?
He rather wished that there was someone he could talk to about Nicole. He went through a rapid mental list of the men he called friends and realized that, while he could imagine himself boasting of a conquest with them—though that had never been his style—he couldn’t predict their reactions if he tried to talk to them on a more personal basis.
What would they say if he tried to explain that it wasn’t just physical with Nicole—that it never had been? Or if he tried to describe the emptiness inside him at the thought of losing her, even though he hardly knew her in some ways?
It occurred to him then that he really didn’t have many friends. Certainly none who were close enough to bare his soul to, even if he were the sort of man who could make himself that vulnerable.
Ashley had said he had no intimates because he wouldn’t allow himself to risk intimacy. She’d accused him of emotional cowardice. Perhaps she’d been right.
He was damned near terrified of the things Nicole made him feel.
That wasn’t normal after such a short time together, was it? He wished again that there was someone he could ask.
His secretary’s voice came over the intercom, startling him out of his brooding reverie. “Mr. Tyler? Your mother is on line one.”
“Thank you, Grace.” He lifted the receiver warily. “Hello, Mother.”
“Hello, dear. I have a little favor to ask of you.”
Of course she did. Except to ask for “little favors,” his mother rarely called him unless she’d spent an evening with her bridge club. After hours of looking at photographs and listening to bragging anecdotes about darling, talented grandchildren, she often called Andrew and demanded that he provide her with some. Immediately.
“What favor, Mother?”
“You needn’t sound so suspicious. It’s nothing major. I simply want to leave Buffy at your house while Lowell and I are in New York this weekend. It will only be for a few days. She won’t be any trouble at all.”
Andrew groaned. “Mother, I really don’t care to baby-sit your dog. Can’t you put it in a kennel?”
“Of course not!” Lucy sounded highly indignant at the very suggestion. “She would be miserable in such a place. I usually take her with me, but she’s had a little cold recently and I don’t think she feels strong enough for air travel.”
Oh, great. The dog had been ill. If that hairy little mutt died while in Andrew’s care, his mother would never forgive him, he thought with a grimace.
“I won’t be home to watch after it, Mother. I really think it would be best if—”
“Oh, that’s no problem. Martha has already agreed to look after my precious. She’s really no trouble at all. Just a little food and water, a warm place to sleep, regular walks, medication three times a day, her favorite toys around her, a special treat before bedtime, her—”
“You’ve already talked to Martha?” Andrew cut in.
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to impose on her without talking to her first.”
Andrew managed to resist the temptation to point out that she apparently hadn’t had the same consideration for him. He sighed.
“All right, I suppose it can stay,” he said without bothering to be particularly gracious about it.
“Uh...when will you be bringing it over?” he added, wondering if Nicole would be there at the time, and how he would explain her presence to his nosy parent. Maybe he should offer to pick the dog up, himself. His Range Rover already smelled of mutt, anyway, and it could save some awkward questions.
“Oh, I’ve already taken her to your house. First thing this morning. When I left, both Martha and dear Nicky were fussing over my little Buffy, and I knew I’d left her in the best of care.” An expectant silence followed the bombshell.
Andrew cleared his throat. “Um, Nicky?” he repeated, stalling for time.
“Yes. She’s a lovely young woman, Andrew. I quite like her. I understand she’s living with you now.”
Andrew slipped off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose between his left thumb and forefinger. “She isn’t living with me. She’s only staying until she finds an apartment.”
“So she explained. She told me how you simply refused to allow her to stay in a motel alone for fear of her safety. That was so generous and noble of you, darling,” Lucy assured him with a laugh in her voice. “I’m sure your motives were entirely unselfish.”
“I, er...”
Lucy chuckled. “Never mind explaining. I hope I’ve made it dear that I’m delighted. You and Nicky make a lovely couple. What beautiful children you would have together!”
Andrew groaned again. “Mother—”
“I won’t tease you any more, dear. I really must go. My plane leaves in a few hours.”
“Have a safe trip,” he told her in resignation.
“Thank you, Andrew. We’ll have a long, cozy talk when I get back, shall we?”
Not if he could help it. He’d already decided that he wasn’t ready to discuss his relationship—for want of a better word—with Nicole. Especially not with his grandchild-obsessed mother. He murmured something noncommittal and hung up the phone.
And then he buzzed his secretary. “Grace? Have we got anything around here for a headache?”
NICKY HAD FULLY intended to look for an apartment and a job that day. But she’d slept later than she’d planned—something she could directly attribute to Andrew’s energy the night before—and then his mother had shown up unexpectedly just as Nicky had been preparing to leave.
Lucy hadn’t bothered to hide either her surprise or her delight at finding Nicky at her son’s home. She hadn’t asked any particularly prying questions; in fact, she didn’t say much at all. She’d simply smiled and assured Nicky that Andrew was a fine young man who’d make some lucky woman a wonderful husband and father to her children.
Lucy had made few personal observations about Andrew. Nicky had gotten the distinct and rather sad impression that Lucy didn’t know what made her son tick any better than anyone else seemed to. And then Lucy had breezed out, leaving Nicky embarrassed, bemused and besieged by a yipping, hyperactive little dog of some obscure, but probably expensive, breed.
Martha had not been pleased to have the dog deposited in her care. She’d looked dismayed at the long list of instructions Lucy had left.
“How am I supposed to get any work done if I do all this?” she demanded as soon as her employer’s mother had departed. “I have to do the marketing today if we’re going to have anything to eat around here for the next week, and I still have to pick up Andrew’s suits from the cleaners and...”
“You run your errands, Martha,” Nicky had interceded. “I’ll take care of Buffy this afternoon.”
Martha had looked relieved, but asked considerately, “You’re sure?”
“Of course. I’ll just work on my résumé while I keep an eye on her. She’ll be no trouble at all.”
Martha looked at the little dog that was yapping and chasing its feathery excuse for a tail, still excited at being in unfamiliar surroundings. She shook her head dourly. “Andrew isn’t going to like this,” she predicted.
“Surely his mother approved it with him first.”
Martha gave Nicky a look that expressed sympathy for her naiveté. “Mmm-hmm,” was all she said.
As the afternoon wore on and the time for Andrew’s return approached, Nicky found herself wondering exactly how he would feel about having Buffy as a weekend houseguest. To be honest, Nicky was having trouble determining how Andrew felt about anything.
He shared his feelings less than anyone she’d ever known, and that included her cousin Nate, who could hardly be described as an emotional person. Sometimes she thought she saw emotions in Andrew’s eyes just aching to be expressed, but he didn’t seem to be able to voice them—and that made her sad.
Only in bed did he seem able to free himself. He was a passionate, considerate, exciting and caring lover. But outside of the bedroom, he could be a polite stranger.
She reminded herself that she’d known him only a matter of days. That she shouldn’t expect too much too soon. But the warnings from her head didn’t seem to make any difference to her heart, which had already leapt light-years ahead in the relationship.
She believed she was in love with Andrew, as incredible as that might seem. She couldn’t help thinking that she’d found her soul mate on New Year’s Eve. She just wasn’t sure Andrew was aware of that momentous fact.
She was practically living with him, yet she didn’t know what, exactly, he felt about her, what he wanted from her. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry for her to leave, but was he thinking long-term? Or did he expect her to find an apartment as quickly as possible? Did he see her as anything more than a temporary bed partner?
Was he aware of how completely mismatched they were in some ways? Background, temperament, experiences. So many differences.
And yet, in some ways she felt as though they were very much alike. If only Andrew would let down his guard a bit, allow her close enough to really get to know him...
Something tugged at her left foot. She glanced down to find Buffy industriously trying to eat the laces on her sneakers. She lifted her foot, and the determined little dog held on until it was suspended three inches above the floor.
Nicky laughed and gently lowered the dog. Buffy growled playfully and shook her head from side to side, the shoelace held firmly in her mouth.
“Please don’t eat my laces, Buff,” Nicole asked grinning. “It’s really hard to keep my shoes on without them.”
“Would you like me to lock that animal in the laundry room?” Andrew asked from behind her, catching her off guard.
Nicky turned with a start to find him standing in the doorway of the den where she’d been sitting. He was glaring at the dog.
Realizing that he was serious, she smiled and shook her head. “It’s all right. She’s only playing. You’re home early, aren’t you?”
“I wanted to make sure my mother’s mutt wasn’t destroying my house,” Andrew muttered, giving the dog one last frown before looking at Nicole. “Where’s Martha?”
“She had a lot of errands to run this afternoon. Groceries, cleaners, that sort of thing. I told her I’d watch Buffy.”
“That was nice of you, but you didn’t have to sacrifice your afternoon. Martha could have just put the dog in the laundry room. Or out in the yard.”
Nicky shook her head and reached down to rub Buffy’s fluffy ears. “Your mother said she hasn’t been feeling well. Someone needed to watch her this afternoon.”
As if understanding, the little dog sneezed delicately. Nicky glanced at her watch. “Oh, it’s almost time for her medicine. Your mother gives it to her in a ball of cheese.”
“Uh, do you want me to do it?” Andrew offered gallantly, looking as though he’d rather walk barefoot across hot coals.
Nicky swallowed a laugh. “No, I don’t mind. I’ve been around animals a lot. I’m used to this sort of thing.”
He didn’t bother to hide his relief. “Good. I’m not.”
“Gee, now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
He lifted his eyebrow in the way he had when he wasn’t quite sure whether she was teasing him or making fun of him. She smiled at him and crossed the room, rising on tiptoe to brush a kiss across his stern mouth. “Teasing,” she assured him.
He nodded. “There’s cheese in the fridge.”
He followed her to the kitchen, carefully keeping his distance from the fuzzy little dog that bounced around Nicky’s feet. He watched as Nicky pulled a chunk of cheese out of the refrigerator and molded it around a little blue pill she’d taken from a bottle on the counter.
Aware of Andrew’s gaze on her, Nicky knelt to offer the cheese to the dog. “Here you go, Buff. It’s gotta taste better than my shoelace.”
The dog swallowed both the cheese and pill in one quick gulp, then, tail wagging, sniffed hopefully around for more.
“That looked easy enough,” Andrew remarked.
Nicky smiled and straightened. “Yes. She’s sweet, really.”
Andrew gave the dog a doubtful look and chose not to comment on the assessment. Instead he changed the subject. “I, er, hope my mother’s visit didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“Of course not. I like her,” Nicky answered candidly. She did like his mother, though it had bothered her that Lucy hadn’t seemed to really understand her son. Didn’t she and Andrew ever sit down and have a heart-to-heart talk? Didn’t she care about his feelings—or was Lucy more interested in what he could do for her?
Andrew’s expression gave no clue of his true feelings. He said only, “She can be a bit, um, unorthodox, at times.”
Nicky laughed. “You haven’t met my mother.”
Would he ever meet her mother? she couldn’t help wondering. Would they ever get to that meet-the-families stage that implicitly formalized a relationship?
“I didn’t have a chance to look for an apartment today,” she told him, watching for his reaction. “I could probably make a few calls now, if you’ll keep an eye on Buffy until Martha gets back.”
He shook his head, and she wondered if the firm rejection had more to do with her leaving, or him having anything to do with the dog. “It’s getting late,” he said. “Why don’t you just plan to stay here for the weekend?”
She cocked her head, wishing she could read his expression. “You wouldn’t mind?”
He met her gaze squarely. “It would be my pleasure,” he said. The husky sincerity in his tone made her catch her breath. And then he rather spoiled the moment by clearing his voice, motioning vaguely toward the floor and saying, “Don’t leave me alone with that thing.”
She looked at the dog and nodded. “I’ll stay. Thank you.”
Andrew grunted and turned away. “I’ll go change. Martha should be back soon and we can go see that movie I promised you last night.”
When Nicky moved to follow him out of the kitchen, he held up a hand. His mouth quirking into what might have been a wry smile, he shook his head. “You’d better stay here.”
She started to ask why. And then she noticed the flare of heat in his eyes. Their gazes locked, held. And she suddenly understood why he hadn’t even kissed her hello.
He still wanted her.
She was tempted to pounce on him right there. To drag him to his bedroom and not let him escape until Monday. At the earliest.
Buffy sank her teeth into the hem of Nicky’s jeans and began a feisty tug-of-war, effectively shattering the mood.
Resisting the impulse to fan her face with her hand, Nicky dragged her gaze from Andrew’s and cleared her throat. “All right. I’ll wait here. Would you like me to make you a drink while you’re changing?”
“Yeah, thanks. Something strong,” he muttered, glancing from her to the dog and back. “Better make it a double.”
The moment he was out of sight, Nicky opened the freezer, took a handful of ice and held it against her flushed cheek. And then she drew a deep breath, tossed the ice into the sink and reached for a glass. She filled it with fresh ice and cola.
As tempting as it was to try to loosen Andrew up artificially, she wanted him clear-headed this evening. She wanted to know the real Andrew.
She’d get him drunk only as a last resort, she thought with a rueful laugh.
“WELL, WHAT DID YOU think of the movie?” Nicole asked several hours later as she and Andrew faced each other over cappuccinos in a trendy little coffee shop not far from the theater. “You haven’t said whether you liked it.”
“I’m still not quite sure,” he replied. “I suppose it was pretty good for its type of film.”
He had left the selection up to her earlier, and he’d been rather surprised when she’d directed him to a bargain theater that specialized in running films that were no longer first-run. The admission fee had been two dollars each. The floors had been sticky. The audience had been made up of teenagers and families for whom regular admission costs would seem rather steep.
Andrew assumed that price had no influence over Nicole’s choice of theater; surely she was aware that the cost of a regular movie ticket was mere pocket change to him. And then one of the college students working the concession stand had greeted her by name and served soda and buttered popcorn without waiting for Nicole to order, and Andrew had realized that she was a frequent patron of the establishment.
“I’ve been wanting to see that movie ever since it first hit the theaters before Christmas,” she admitted.
“Why haven’t you?”
She shrugged. “Been busy,” she murmured from behind her coffee cup.
“So you’re a Star Trek fan?”
“Oh, yeah. I missed the original series, of course, though I’ve seen most of the episodes in reruns. They’re pretty corny, but considering the time they were made, they were quite advanced. And I’ve seen all the movies starring the original crew. Some were good, others stunk. I got hooked on ‘The Next Generation’ when I was in high school. I’ve watched all the spin-offs since. I particularly like it that there’s a woman captain now,” she added in satisfaction.
That explained her familiarity with all the characters and inside jokes in the film. She’d had to whisper a few explanations to him, since he’d never gotten into the habit of watching much television, other than the news or financial reports. His viewing time had been firmly limited when he was a child. And fantasy and science fiction had never appealed to him as much as reality based programming.
And then something she’d said sank in, making him frown. “You watched in high school?” he asked, a bit startled. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five. Did you think I was older?” She didn’t seem to be offended by his surprise.
“I don’t suppose I’d thought about it much.” Now it occurred to him that there were nine years between them. Hell, she hadn’t even had her ten-year high school reunion yet.
Did he seem old and impossibly staid to her?
He glanced at his watch. It was just after 10:00 p.m. Relatively early on a weekend, he supposed.
He didn’t imagine a movie-and-coffee date was the most exciting Friday evening Nicole had spent in a while. Yet he couldn’t for the life of him think of anything interesting to suggest they do after they’d finished their cappuccinos. When he wasn’t working late or attending an obligatory social function, Andrew was usually in bed by eleven. Alone.
Maybe he was getting staid.
He stiffened when he felt something rub his leg. And then he realized that it was Nicole, stroking the side of his leg with her foot, her actions concealed by the privacy of their back corner booth. Her foot moved slowly, from his ankle to mid-calf, then back down. Her cup cradled in her hands, she looked over the rim as she sipped from it, her dark eyes gleaming.
He swallowed, amazed at how his body was reacting to such a seemingly innocuous action on her part. But there was nothing at all innocent about the way she was looking at him.
“I, er, what would you like to do when we leave here?” he asked, his voice sounding rather strangled to his own ears.
She set down her cup and smiled. “It’s getting late. I thought we’d call it an evening.”
“We could, um—”
His voice cracked when her foot slid behind his knee, rubbing in a small circle that was incredibly erotic considering they were both fully clothed, and she was wearing a shoe and sitting on the other side of a wooden table. “We could go to that dance club you like if you want a bit more excitement this evening,” he managed to sputter.
The tiny, enchanting dimple at the corner of her mouth deepened. “I don’t think we have to go to a dance club to find excitement.”
“No,” he agreed, knowing he was going to have to walk out of the coffee shop with his hands in his pockets unless he wanted to amuse the other patrons at his expense.
“I’m ready to leave whenever you are,” she hinted.
He pushed aside his half-finished cappuccino. “Then let’s go.”
He wouldn’t be going to bed alone tonight. The thought was accompanied by a surge of soul-deep satisfaction that might have worried him...had he stopped to think about it.
ANDREW ALMOST ALWAYS went into the office on Saturdays, usually intending to leave by noon, often staying until five or later. For the first time in several years, he stayed home that weekend. He knew some of his associates would be surprised that he hadn’t shown up or at least called in. He didn’t care.
He and Nicole lingered in bed Saturday morning, then enjoyed a leisurely breakfast that Martha had prepared for them. Andrew could see that Martha was already growing fond of Nicole, which didn’t surprise him in the least. He, better than anyone, should know how easy it was to fall under Nicole’s spell.
They spent the afternoon at the Memphis zoo. It wouldn’t have been Andrew’s first choice of entertainment on a Saturday afternoon in early January, but when Nicole had suggested the outing, he’d merely nodded and said, “Sure. Why not?”
And then he’d wondered if he’d lost his mind.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a bitterly cold day, just cool enough for jeans and sweaters, coats and scarves, and pink cheeks and noses. Andrew hadn’t visited the zoo since he’d been a schoolboy. He was quite sure he hadn’t enjoyed it as much then as he did seeing it with Nicole.
She seemed intimately acquainted with the place, proving again that she was a frequent visitor. She was even greeted warmly by name by some of the zoo workers, a phenomenon Andrew was beginning to take for granted.
Nicole seemed to make friends wherever she went. He couldn’t help worrying a bit that it seemed so easy for her. Was he just another of her collection of acquaintances? Was there nothing special about the speed with which their own relationship-of-sorts had developed?
And then she took his arm, snuggled cozily against his side, and pointed out her favorite chimpanzee, and he decided to leave the fretting for later.
When he was with Nicole, all he could seem to do was enjoy.
THE TELEPHONE WOKE Andrew on Sunday morning. Blearily noting that it was after ten, and knowing Martha was probably at church, Andrew groped for the receiver on his nightstand. Even as he spoke into it, he realized for the first time that Nicole wasn’t in the bed with him.
Buffy was. The little mutt was curled into a snoring ball of fur at his feet, apparently undisturbed by the phone. Andrew wondered how and when the dog had gotten there. And just where was Nicole?
“Where the hell were you yesterday?” his father’s voice barked into his ear without bothering with polite preliminaries.
Momentarily distracted, Andrew frowned. “What do you mean? Where was I supposed to be?”
“At the office. I waited around for you until noon. I wanted to discuss that new French account with you. You hadn’t told anyone you wouldn’t be in.”
“I hadn’t told anyone I would be in, either,” Andrew observed mildly. “If you wanted to discuss the French account with me, you should have let me know.”
“Made an appointment, you mean? Since when do I have to have an appointment to see you?”
“No, of course you don’t need an appointment. I was merely suggesting that I would have made myself available had I known you wanted to see me.” Eventually.
His father grumbled something in response, then abruptly changed the subject. “What’s this I hear about you living with that girl you met at the club? Joyce McClain’s pretty young cousin.”
“How did you hear about that?” Andrew asked, startled. Roused from her sleep, Buffy yawned, stretched, and bounced up to lick Andrew’s face. He fended the dog off with one hand as he waited for his father to explain.
“That flighty mother of yours has spread it all over town. She’s probably spent her weekend in New York shopping for a dress to wear to your wedding.”
Andrew, Jr., always knew all his ex-wife’s plans; he claimed he kept up with her out of self-defense, more than any real curiosity.
Andrew winced at the mention of marriage—something he hadn’t even allowed himself to consider in connection with Nicole. “It’s not quite the way Mother made it sound, Dad. Nicole is only staying with me until she finds a new apartment. She just moved back to town and—”
“Hell, I don’t care what excuse you use. I liked her. Attractive girl. Classy. She’ll be good for you.”
“I, er...”
“Didn’t seem your usual type, though. This one knows how to smile. Unlike that last one you got involved with.”
Andrew rubbed his forehead, and wished he’d had a cup of coffee before taking this call. “Ashley wasn’t that bad,” he felt obligated to protest.
His father snorted. “She would’ve made your life hell. This one sounds different. From what I’ve heard, Joyce thinks the two of you are made for each other.”
Was everyone talking about this? Andrew shouldn’t have been surprised; he knew how rapidly gossip spread through his circle. But he had never grown resigned to being the focus of it.
“George Carlisle says you took one look at this girl and got knocked on your butt. Says he never saw such a dumbstruck look, never thought he’d see one like it on your face. He found it highly amusing.”
“I’m sure he did,” Andrew groaned.
The worst part was, he knew that George had been entirely accurate in summing up his reaction to Nicole. Andrew had foolishly, and futilely, hoped it hadn’t been quite so obvious to the onlookers.
“Better hang on to this one, boy. Nice girls like that don’t come along every day. Don’t run her off with that stuffy air of yours. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up a dried-up old bachelor like my brother. I tell you, when he died so young, it made me take stock of my life and the way I wanted to live it. That’s when I split with your mother. I didn’t want to spend whatever years I had left being miserable.”
“I didn’t realize you were all that miserable with Mother,” Andrew said, instinctive loyalty to his mother hardening his voice.
“Well, I was. And she felt the same way, no matter how much she might gripe about me running out on her. Hell, anyone can see she’s happier with Lowell Hester than she ever was with me.”
Andrew didn’t quite know how to respond to that.
“I’ve got to go. Got plans of my own for this afternoon. Save some time tomorrow morning to discuss that account with me, will you?”
“Yes, of course. What—”
But Andrew was suddenly talking to a dial tone. Without further ado, his father had disconnected.
Shaking his head, Andrew hung up the phone. Buffy licked his hand, then climbed onto his lap to try to reach his face again.
“I do not like to be licked,” Andrew told the dog sternly. “At least not by you,” he added in a mutter. And then he set the animal aside and climbed out of bed to look for Nicole.
Buffy at his heels, it took less than ten minutes for Andrew to discover that Nicole wasn’t anywhere in the house. That aching emptiness flooded him again, making him rub his bare chest as though to ease the hollow discomfort. The dog seemed to sense his mood; it kept its distance, looking at him with what appeared to be sympathy.
Nicole would be back, Andrew thought, reassuring himself that her things were still scattered around his room. Wherever she’d gone, she hadn’t left for good.
This time.
How would he deal with it when she was truly gone from his home, from his life? And why did it hurt so badly to even think about it, when it was an outcome he’d been expecting from the beginning of this whirlwind affair?
“Damn,” he said.
His mother’s dog sneezed, as though to echo the sentiment.