11
BY EARLY FRIDAY EVENING, Andrew had reached an unavoidable conclusion. He truly hated Nicole’s new job.
“She’s never here,” he complained to the orange cat that sat on his knee as he sulked in the den, much too aware of the emptiness of his home without Nicole in it. “She’s always busy.”
The cat meowed plaintively, as if in sympathy, and rubbed its head against Andrew’s palm.
Buffy had gone home, having been collected by Andrew’s mother sometime Wednesday morning. Lucy had called Andrew’s office to tell him she was home from New York and had reclaimed her dog. She’d thanked him profusely for letting her impose on him, and had then proceeded to rave about what good care “dear Nicky” had taken of the little mutt. She’d added a few hints about what a good mother Nicole would be and then had hung up before Andrew could remind her that he and Nicole hadn’t reached the point where such speculation was appropriate.
But no matter how casual, or temporary, he’d implied the relationship to be to his mother, Andrew missed Nicole intensely when he came home at night and she wasn’t there. He’d become quickly spoiled to having her company, to seeing her smile when he entered a room, to sharing meals with her.
Now she came home late, so tired she could hardly move. She always went willingly into his arms, but on a couple of occasions she’d looked so weary that he hadn’t had the heart to do anything more than tuck her into bed and hold her while she slept. She tried to wake when he did in the mornings, but he usually let her sleep. Even when she woke, they had only a short time together before he had to leave. She was gone again when he returned.
He hated it.
He wanted very much to ask her to quit. It was ridiculous for her to be working at a hard, low-paying job to scrape by when he had more than enough money to spare. But, after the way she’d reprimanded him for leaving too large a tip when he’d dined at her table Monday evening, he hadn’t quite had the courage to try to offer more. That stubborn pride of hers was proving to be a problem.
Twice during the week, she’d mentioned looking for an apartment. Both times Andrew had managed to convince her to wait awhile.
She really should save enough for a decent deposit, he’d argued. Take the time to find a home she really liked, not just the first affordable place she could find.
He didn’t want her to leave.
It briefly occurred to him that he’d once thought he wanted a woman who had her own interests. Who wouldn’t expect him to entertain her. Who wouldn’t cling. He winced, finding the descriptions much too close to his own atypical behavior with Nicole.
If only he felt more secure in their relationship. If only he didn’t live with the constant fear that she would leave him as precipitously as she’d moved in with him. That he would grow more and more attached to her, only to be devastated when she was gone for good.
If only he knew how to ask her to stay.
Martha broke into his glum reverie when she appeared in the doorway. “The security gate guard just called. There’s an Amy Holiday wanting to get in. I think she’s Miss Nicky’s sister.”
“Tell him to send her through and give her directions,” Andrew instructed, curious about this unannounced visit. “I’ll let her in.”
Martha nodded and hurried away.
Andrew was waiting at the door when Amy came hurrying up the steps. He would have known she was Nicole’s sister without being told; the family resemblance was even more striking than it had been with Nate. Amy’s dark curls were cut short, framing her pretty young face, and her near-black eyes gleamed with enthusiasm and a hint of innocence that automatically appealed to that latent protectiveness Nicole teased him about so often.
Amy entered talking. “You’ve got to be Andrew. You’re as gorgeous as Nicky said you were.”
He could feel his cheeks grow warm. “Er—”
“Thanks for letting me in. I’ve got a major thing tonight and I was trying to press my black silk dress and one of my airhead roomies spilled soda all over it. I screamed, of course, because I don’t have anything else to wear, but she didn’t have anything for me to wear, either, since she’s two sizes bigger than I am. So, of course, I called Nicky at work and she said I could wear the black dress she wore New Year’s Eve. She said she just picked it up from the cleaners and I’m to tell you it’s hanging in the closet in the guest room, still in the plastic bag. So if you wouldn’t mind showing me where that is...”
He’d had to struggle to follow the breathless monologue. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll show you to the guest room.”
Amy kept talking as they climbed the stairs and rummaged through the closet to find the black dress. Andrew understood most of what she said—something about an awards dinner for a student organization she belonged to, and she expected to receive at least one award, and her date was picking her up in less than two hours and she didn’t know how on earth she was going to get ready in time.
“Couldn’t you call your date and have him pick you up here?” Andrew suggested. “Do you have everything you need to finish getting ready?”
Amy cocked her head in a gesture that reminded Andrew forcibly of Nicole. “Hey, that’s an idea,” she murmured. “I think I have everything—especially if I raid Nicky’s jewelry and wear her black heels. And she’s probably got some makeup here, right? Boy, won’t Justin be impressed when I call and give him this address!”
“Feel free,” Andrew said with a slight smile.
He hadn’t liked the thought of Amy rushing back to her place to change; she probably would have driven recklessly. And then he was wryly amused at himself for adopting that protective manner toward her that he’d been fighting all week with Nicole. But it was different with Amy, he decided. His automatic reactions toward her were decidedly big brotherly. His feelings toward Nicole were anything but.
“Where are the rest of Nicky’s things?” Amy asked, rummaging in the nearly empty closet. “I don’t see her heels or her jewelry box.”
He cleared his throat. “You’ll probably find those things in my room. Down the hall on the left. I’ll show you.”
She eyed him with a grin and a lifted eyebrow, but apparently decided not to tease him, to Andrew’s heartfelt relief.
Amy still wasn’t quite ready when her date arrived later. Wondering what in the world could take her so long just to put on a dress and some makeup, Andrew opened the door when the young man rang the buzzer. He glanced automatically out into the driveway, noting that Amy’s date had arrived in a souped-up red Firebird. Frowning, he studied the younger man, whom he judged to be in his early twenties.
“I’m Justin Wilcox,” Amy’s date said, extending his right hand after wiping the palm surreptitiously on the pants of his rental tux.
Andrew shook Justin’s hand. “Andrew Tyler. Come in, Amy’s not quite ready.”
Justin swallowed audibly. “Okay.” He followed Andrew into the den, then stood in the middle of the room, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
“Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? Soda? Juice?” Andrew had no intention of serving anything alcoholic. Even if Justin Wilcox was legally old enough to drink—and he hardly looked that—he would be driving Nicole’s young sister in that Firebird.
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Justin said, and perched stiffly on the very edge of a chair.
Andrew hadn’t the faintest idea what to say to the kid. He wondered if this was how it felt to be a father meeting a teenage daughter’s first date. He tried to think back to some of those evenings when he’d been the nervous teen, but since he’d usually dated girls from his own social circles, most of their fathers had known his family for years. They hadn’t been total strangers trying to make conversation. He’d never been any good at that sort of thing. Unlike Nicole, of course, who apparently never met a stranger.
He was searching for something to say when Amy joined them. Andrew happened to be watching Justin when Amy appeared. The young man’s jaw must have dropped six inches, and his blue eyes glazed. Knowing what must have caused that reaction, Andrew turned to the doorway.
Amy looked as good in the black dress as Nicole had the night Andrew had met her. Slender waist, intriguing curves, impossibly long legs. Nicole’s sparkly black coat was thrown over her arm and she was wearing Nicole’s “fake diamonds.” She’d swept her short curls upward, away from her face, which she’d made up with a subtle skill that made her look very glamorous. But no older. She still looked terribly young and vulnerable, in Andrew’s opinion.
He glared at her dumbstruck date. “You will drive carefully, of course?”
Justin snapped his mouth closed and nodded fervently. “Yes, sir.”
Andrew almost winced at the “sir,” but then decided to use the kid’s intimidation for his own purposes. “Don’t get in any hurry. And remember that you’re driving. No booze.”
Amy looked at him with widened eyes and then an amused smile. Justin didn’t seem to question Andrew’s right to issue orders—perhaps because he was still young and used to dealing with protective fathers. He nodded again. “I’ll be careful. And they won’t be serving any booze, anyway,” he added. “It’s a school-sponsored thing for honor students. I’m one of them, by the way.”
“Congratulations,” Andrew replied with a slight smile, marginally reassured.
“Ready to go?” Amy asked her date.
“You bet,” Justin answered a bit too quickly.
Andrew followed them to the front door. Amy waited until Justin stepped out to turn back to Andrew. “Tell Nicky thanks for me, okay? She saved my life tonight.”
Though he was tempted to comment on the dramatic overstatement, Andrew nodded. “I’ll tell her. And you look very nice.”
She dimpled. “Thanks. Give Nicky another message for me, will you?”
“Of course.”
She rose to brush a quick kiss on his jaw. “Tell her I approve. See you around, Andrew.”
Andrew was decidedly bemused when he returned to the den. He sank onto the couch. The orange cat appeared from nowhere and leapt back onto his knee. Andrew stroked it automatically.
He might be okay with this fatherhood thing, he mused. It really was time for him to start a family, before he got too old. He planned to be more actively involved in his children’s lives than his own father had been with him.
He wondered how Nicole felt about children.
The cat meowed, as though to bring him back to reality.
Andrew grimaced and scratched the cat’s pointed ears. “You’re right, of course. It’s much too soon to be thinking that way. But maybe—”
His mind drifted back to the possibilities.
ANDREW DIDN’T REMEMBER falling asleep on the couch. Nicole woke him with a kiss. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” she murmured. “Time to get up and go to bed.”
Disoriented, he blinked. Last thing he remembered, he had been studying a thick file of international sales projection figures. He looked around, spotted the file on the floor and realized he’d dropped it when he’d dozed off, his head against the back cushions. The cat was still dozing in his lap.
“He looks very content,” Nicole commented, stroking the sleepy feline’s soft head. “I think he likes you. And I’m beginning to suspect that it’s mutual.”
“He’s okay. For a cat,” Andrew said, yawning.
“Well, I think I’ve found a home for him. One of the other waitresses is looking for a pet for her son’s fifth birthday present. I told her how sweet-natured this little guy is, and she said she’s definitely interested.”
Andrew dropped his arms out of a lazy stretch and frowned. “You can’t give the cat to a five-year-old kid. It wouldn’t be safe.”
“Nonsense. This little dear wouldn’t hurt a child, would you, kitty?” Nicole petted the cat until it purred blissfully.
“I wasn’t talking about the kid’s safety. I was talking about the cat’s. A five-year-old isn’t old enough to be responsible for a pet. They don’t understand that living animals aren’t stuffed toys and must be handled carefully.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure Pam will watch her son.”
Andrew shook his head and kept one hand possessively on the cat’s rumbling body. “No. Tell her she’ll have to find another pet. A dog, maybe. Or better yet, advise her to wait until the kid’s older.”
“Okay,” Nicole replied with a shrug of resignation. “I’ll keep looking for another home. I promised you I would find one as quickly as possible.”
“Just let it stay here,” Andrew said impulsively. “I think Martha likes the company,” he added, avoiding Nicole’s eyes.
“She does, hmm?” She sounded as though she wanted to laugh, but she suppressed it. “Then I suppose he has a new home.”
Andrew quickly changed the subject. “I met your sister tonight.” He explained that Amy had stayed to change and had her date pick her up there. “She said she’d have one of her roommates bring her after her car tomorrow. She said she doesn’t really need it until tomorrow afternoon since she has no classes in the morning.”
“That was nice of you to let her get ready here. Did you like Amy?” Nicole sounded as though she couldn’t imagine anyone not liking her beloved younger sister.
“Very much. She said for me to tell you thanks for the loan of the clothes and jewelry.” He had no intention of relaying Amy’s second message. He would let her deliver that one herself.
Nicole frowned. “She took my jewelry, too?”
“Your fake diamonds,” Andrew reminded her gravely. “And your coat and shoes.”
Nicole sighed. “Anything else?”
“No, I think that’s all.”
“Did you have a chance to meet Justin?”
“Yes. Amy wasn’t quite ready when he arrived.”
“Of course she wasn’t. So, what did you think of him?”
“He seemed all right. Clean-cut. Said he was an honor student.”
Nicole chuckled. “What did you do—grill him?”
Andrew only shrugged. He was feeling much too content at the moment for her teasing to bother him. On the whole, it had been a good evening. His business outlook was promising. He’d played “big brother” for the first time in his life—and quite successfully, too, he thought. He had a cat. And Nicole was home. He wouldn’t be going to bed alone.
And speaking of bed...
He reached out to run his fingertips through her hair. “You must be tired.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “It was a busy night. One person was out sick and one just didn’t show up for work. It kept the rest of us running.”
Again, Andrew thought of how pointless it was for Nicole to be working so hard when there was really no need for it. As soon as he decided how to word that sentiment without setting her off, he intended to approach the subject with her.
He stood and held out his hand to her. She smiled and placed hers in it. He’d planned to do nothing more than boost her to her feet, but it turned into an embrace that delayed them for several long, heated minutes. Andrew finally broke away with a gasp for air. “Let’s go to bed.”
He had just stepped eagerly into his bedroom when Nicole said, “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you something.”
He was already unbuttoning his shirt. “What is it?”
“I found an apartment today. It’s perfect.”
A button snapped off in his hand. Andrew stared down at it, trying to decide what to say.
Nicole was leaving him.
Nicole didn’t appear to notice his sudden paralysis as she sat on the edge of the bed to take off her shoes. “It’s really a great place. One bedroom, a combination living room and dining room, a nice size kitchen. It even has a sliding-glass door that leads out to a tiny little patio. It’s affordable—barely—and I should be able to move in by the middle of next week.”
She was moving out. In less than a week. Andrew could almost feel the contentment seeping out of him, to be replaced by bleak emptiness. Still studying the button, he asked, “Have you signed any paperwork yet?”
“No, but I left my name with the rental manager. I bet you’re going to offer to look the place over and make sure it’s safe and suitable, right?” she asked brightly.
He couldn’t smile in response to her teasing. To keep from looking at her, he carefully placed the button on one corner of his dresser. “I’m sure you don’t need me to help you choose an apartment.”
She didn’t need him for anything, apparently. She was making her own money, she had her family and friends, and now she had found a place to live. She hadn’t really even needed him when he’d brought her to his home on New Year’s Eve. She’d been perfectly willing to stay at the motel with the biker gang hanging around in the parking lot. And she probably would have been just fine.
He’d been deluding himself to think that he had anything to offer a woman like Nicole Holiday. She was the most independent and self-sufficient woman he’d ever met. His money and social position, which would have been so enticing and attractive to some women, meant little or nothing to Nicole. He couldn’t hold her with them.
She was a woman who was accustomed to being needed. And he didn’t know how to tell her how very badly he needed her.
“Andrew?”
Keeping his expression impassive, he looked at her. “Yes?”
Her dark eyes searched his face. He couldn’t read her thoughts any more than he wanted her to know his. He thought he heard her give a faint sigh.
“Never mind,” she said.
He nodded and tossed his shirt into a corner, knowing that Martha would efficiently find and replace the missing button.
“Are you going to your office in the morning?”
He nodded. “Probably. I have some things I need to do.”
He might as well get back into his old routine, he thought grimly. The more accustomed he became to Nicole’s company, the more he would miss her when she was gone.
“I suppose I’ll do some laundry and run errands tomorrow morning. I have to be at work at five.”
He nodded again. “I should probably be back before then. Unless something comes up at the office, of course.”
She was still looking searchingly at him. He knew he seemed suddenly remote to her. It was a long-standing habit of his to withdraw inside himself when his emotions threatened to embarrass him. He’d been doing so since childhood, when he’d worried that he might behave inappropriately and draw the disapproval of his father or grandfather. He’d been hiding his emotions for so long that there were times he hardly knew how to recognize them himself.
Nicole stood and walked to him, her gaze locked on his face. He’d never been particularly adept at reading other people’s feelings, either; he wished he knew hers now. She was looking at him so seriously. He almost thought he saw a touch of sadness in her eyes...and maybe sympathy? Surely not.
And then she looped her arms around his neck and rose to kiss him. “Come to bed, Andrew,” she said quietly. “It’s late.”
Her words had a somberly prophetic tone that he didn’t want to acknowledge. In a vain attempt to stave off reality, he wrapped his arms around her and hid his face for a long moment in her hair, trying to pretend that he would never have to let her go.
WITH A TOWEL wrapped loosely around his waist, Andrew was shaving the next morning when Nicole received a telephone call. She took the call on his bedroom extension. Since he was in the connecting bath, the door open between them, he couldn’t help but overhear her side of the conversation, though he made no effort to eavesdrop. Of course, he made no effort not to hear her, either.
“Hi, Mom!” she said. “How’s it going with Palmer?”
Andrew heard her groan. “He didn’t,” she said. “Oh, Mom, that’s terrible...He said what?...Why, that fink! When are you coming back to Memphis?”
There was a long pause, and then Nicole gave a hefty sigh. “All right. I’ll wire you some money this afternoon ... No, that’s okay, I have a little to spare...No, really, don’t worry about it ...You’ll be here at the end of next week? I should have an apartment by then. You can stay with me until you find a place of your own.”
Andrew rinsed off his razor, grimly shaking his head. He didn’t know whether to be sorry for Nicole or annoyed with her for letting her family take such advantage of her. Who else was she helping out besides her sister, her mother, her cousin and her great-uncle? No wonder she had so little money left over for herself from her modest wages.
Not that she minded; it was obvious that she loved her family dearly and that she was the one who volunteered assistance. Having met most of them, Andrew understood why she was so fond of them. He rather liked them, too. But Nicole deserved more than to work long, exhausting hours just to give all her earnings away.
It was only his fear of offending her that kept him from offering financial help. He left for work still trying to decide how to do so without making it seem as though he were trying to buy her love.
NICKY TOOK advantage of after-holiday sales to make a few prudent, much-needed additions to her wardrobe Saturday morning. She stopped at a department store that had advertised three pair of panties for ten dollars, and was studying the sale merchandise when a wicked black nightie caught her eye.
She couldn’t resist touching it, letting her fingertips trail down the short, silky length of the garment as she imagined herself wearing it for Andrew.
Would he like it? Probably. Would he tell her so? Probably not in words.
Andrew seemed to have a slight problem expressing himself verbally. She had very much hoped that he would put up at least a token protest when she’d said she was moving out. She was honest enough to admit to herself that it wouldn’t take much for him to talk her out of it. But he had to say the words. She wouldn’t continue living with him without some indication on his part that her presence meant something to him.
She refused to be an imposition to him, or a mere physical convenience, or someone he took for granted in his home, the way he did his long-time housekeeper. She wanted him to truly care about her.
She wanted him to love her.
It was going to break her heart to leave him, but a clean break was better than a slow disintegration. She couldn’t go on not knowing where she stood with him. Or if she even had a chance of reaching him.
He needed her, she thought wistfully, remembering the loneliness she saw so often in his beautiful eyes. But could he ever admit it?
He hadn’t even told her how he really felt about her moving into an apartment. Every time she tried to discuss it with him, he went quiet and distant again. She wanted to believe it was because he didn’t want her to go. But how could she know that for certain unless he told her?
“Nicky?”
She turned at the sound of her name, and then forced a smile when she identified the speaker. Carole Cooper was Norvell McClain’s niece. Nicky had met Carole several times through the McClains, but had never been particularly fond of the other woman, whom she considered a bit of a snob.
“Hello, Carole. How are you?”
Carole tossed her long, blond hair away from her pampered, baby-doll face. “Fine, thanks. And you?”
Nicky turned away from the black nightie. “just great.”
Carole lifted an eyebrow. “What’s this I hear about you being involved with Andrew Tyler?”
“You’ve been talking to Joyce.”
“Yes. And others. Everyone’s talking about how you met Andrew at the club New Year’s Eve and moved in with him the next day.”
Nicky felt her cheeks grow warm. “It wasn’t exactly like that.”
It sounded so tawdry when Carole said it. Nicky wanted desperately to believe there was more to it. Had all the New Year’s magic been on her side?
“But you are involved with him?”
“Well—yes,” Nicky admitted. For another week, at least, she thought.
Carole shook her head in apparent amazement. “I have to admit I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have thought he was your type.”
Nicky lifted an eyebrow. “Do you know him?”
“Of course. We’re often at the same social functions,” Carole replied airily. “I’ve always found him rather cold and unfriendly, myself.”
Tightening her grip on her purse, Nicky fought back a surge of anger. “Have you?” she asked coolly.
“Face it, Nicky, the guy has the personality of a rock. Everyone says so. That’s why everyone thought it was so interesting that he latched on to you the way he has. It’s the first time in collective memory that Andrew’s ever done anything impetuous.”
Nicky truly hated the supercilious slant to Carole’s trill of laughter. She wondered if there was a reason the other woman was so vitriolic about Andrew. Had she once tried to catch his attention? It wouldn’t surprise Nicky. After all, Carole had been openly angling for a wealthy husband since her twenty-first birthday, five full years ago.
In unconscious echo of Nicky’s thoughts, Carole said, “He is very rich, of course, and reportedly getting richer every day with that company his daddy set him up in. I can certainly see how a woman might find that appealing—especially one who’s never had much money herself.”
Nicky’s temper bubbled closer to the surface. “I am not after Andrew’s money, Carole,” she said tightly.
Carole seemed oblivious to Nicky’s anger. “Good. To be honest, your chances of getting it are slim. He was engaged before, you know, to a friend of mine. Ashley Lindstrom. They’d known each other forever, since both came from the same social circles, and everyone thought it was a good match. But Ashley bailed out. He kept putting off the wedding date, and she said he took her totally for granted. All he could think about was his work, and he almost lived at his office. She said it was like being engaged to a robot. She’s not even sure he’s capable of really loving anyone.
“She even said,” Carole added, lowering her voice to a salacious whisper, “that he was no more fun in bed than he is out of it.”
Nicky drew herself up to her full height, her chin up, eyes narrowed. “Obviously your friend has a different idea of fun than I do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have several things to do this afternoon. See you around, Carole.” But not if I can help it, she added silently as she made her escape.
She hadn’t known Andrew had been engaged. Of course, having known him less than two full weeks, there were many things she didn’t know about him. Things he hadn’t allowed her to know.
Had he loved his fiancée? Had the woman finally given up on hoping he would show her? Did he see Nicole as merely a suitable replacement for his former fiancée—another soft body to warm his bed and keep him company when he had nothing better to do?
She would be no more agreeable to that than the resentful Ashley had been.
Had the woman really thought Andrew was no fun in bed, or had that been her bitterness talking? Nicole found it hard to believe Andrew’s former fiancée had found fault with his lovemaking; in that area, at least, he was surely all any woman could desire.
But had Ashley been correct when she’d said that Andrew wasn’t capable of really loving anyone? It was the only accusation Carole had made that Nicky really worried about. Probably because it was a question that was never far from her mind.