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Chapter Nine

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Helen and Nathan were partnered with two women from the human resources department at Mount Morgan. She assumed he would have rather golfed with people that held more clout in the company, but he didn’t let his disappointment show, and the foursome whack-thunked their way around the neatly groomed par three in cheerful comradery.

Nathan had assured her she didn’t need to do anything other than be herself—cheerful, outgoing, and friendly. It was easier said than done, as she was still in turmoil over his news, but as the day went on she wore her hostess role with less difficulty.

They finished their round and the foursome split up amicably. Most of the money at these charitable events was raised during the dinner and auctions held after all the golfers were back at the clubhouse, so there was still time for Nathan to make the connections he sought. Helen stayed by his side as he moved smoothly through the crowd chatting with other participants while they waited for the final stragglers to wander in.

A bright, chipper voice broke through the chatter. “Mrs. Mansfield! Is that you?”

Helen swung to her left and a wide smile lifted her cheeks. “Natalie! How are you? It’s been ages!” She wrapped the younger dark-haired woman in her arms, rocking her back and forth enthusiastically. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m with Oliver O’Keefe.” Natalie tossed a thumb over her shoulder and Helen’s gaze followed the gesture. She recognized the tall man with heavy brows and broad shoulders as a local lawyer with political aspirations. Standing with O’Keefe was a sleek, blonde woman and two middle-aged men. All four wore casual golf clothes, but there was something in the stiffness of their stances that shouted they’d feel more comfortable in suits and ties.

Natalie leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s not common knowledge, but the current Member of the Legislative Assembly for Prince George North won’t be running in the next election. Oliver is going for the nomination.”

“And you’re helping run his campaign.” By profession, Natalie was a librarian at the local public library, and while she had just turned thirty—she was the same age as Megan—Helen knew she’d been active politically, though always behind the scenes, for years.

“Yes. It’s an amazing opportunity. For him and me.” Natalie’s gaze slid from Helen to Nathan and her eyebrows quirked. “Have we met? You seem familiar.”

“This is Nathan Spieth, my”—Helen stumbled as she recalled their current undefined status, and went with what was the easiest truth—“neighbour. Nathan, do you remember Natalie Minton? She and Megan met in university, and she lived with us for several months her final year.”

“Of course. Nice to see you again, Natalie.” Nathan shook her hand.

A blush rose on Natalie cheeks. “It’s Panwar, actually. Natalie Panwar. I got married a few weeks ago.”

Helen squealed and pulled Natalie into a second hug. “What? I hadn’t heard that! I’ll have to give Megan what for.”

“Megan doesn’t know, either. It all happened rather fast.”

“Is your husband here? I’d love to meet him.”

Natalie’s eyes went blank and she rolled her shoulders as if shrugging off a burden. “No. He had other commitments today.”

Helen wondered uneasily if the hurried wedding had a shaky foundation. She had to be reading more into Natalie’s reaction than it deserved. “Well, pass on my congratulations and all the best to you both. So, who’s that with your candidate?”

Natalie’s relief at the change in subject only increased Helen’s concern. “The woman is his wife, Aubrey Windt. The men are big wigs from the sponsor Mount Morgan. The taller one is the CFO, Stanley Allbright. The other is Vice-President of Operations, Oscar Thames.”

Nathan, who’d been quiet yet attentive throughout the conversation, gave a quiet grunt. With mingled elation and sadness, Helen realized this was her chance to do something concrete to help.

“Would you mind introducing us?” she asked Natalie. “Nathan is an account executive at Nechako Industrial Supply and Mount Morgan is a client of his. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“Don’t let Helen put you on the spot.” Helen was sure she heard more than a hint of longing in his calm, deep voice. This was exactly the opportunity he’d been looking for all day. And as much as she would hate—absolutely hate—if he moved away, she couldn’t stand in the way of his dreams.

“It would be a pleasure.” Natalie smiled. “Come with me.”

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NATHAN FELT SLIGHTLY drunk, though he’d had nothing but mineral water for the last two hours.

“You’re certain you can have that proposal ready by Thursday?” Stanley Allbright was long and lean with a hungry look. He was younger than Nathan expected for the Chief Financial Officer of a multi-national corporation, but what he lacked in years he more than made up for in savvy. His questions had been blunt and to the point, and Nathan’s mind had stretched and flexed to keep up.

“Not a problem.” It would mean sleepless nights and cancelling a couple other meetings, but with Stanley’s backing there was no way Mount Morgan could turn him down.

Oscar Thames was less enthused and had been all along. His expression sour, he said, “I wish I’d been in on your first meeting.”

Nathan could do nothing about internal politics, so simply nodded. “It certainly would have been helpful to have you with us.” If Thames had been his boss, he, too, would have avoided having him peering over his shoulder whenever possible.

After Natalie had offered up introductions, Helen had adroitly drawn her and the political couple off to the side, leaving Nathan free to chat with the Mount Morgan execs. He had had no intention of monopolizing them for the whole evening, but Stanley hadn’t let him escape.

Not that he wanted to. This was exactly what he’d needed—access to the top level of decision makers. But if he was honest, he had felt slightly jealous at the others being able to spend time with Helen, laughing and joking, without the pressure of having to perform.

The party was breaking up now, and Helen returned to his side. Without conscious thought he took her hand and squeezed it. How was he ever going to thank her for what she’d done?

He had one idea. But that was a discussion best left until they were home.

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HELEN HAD BEEN THRILLED to reconnect with Natalie. She considered the young woman a friend and would have been glad to catch up even if she hadn’t been able to help Nathan with his aspirations. From his concentrated look and thoughtful silence as they drove home, she assumed things had gone well.

She was happy for him. She was. She could be happy and sad at the same time, couldn’t she?

As she pondered the fact Nathan might be leaving Prince George, leaving her, a thought struck. Was it possible she was looking at everything from the wrong angle? What if her potential cancer and his probable promotion weren’t obstacles to being lovers. What if they were what made it possible? They were no-harm-no-foul reasons either of them could escape from the relationship without messy recriminations.

A tiny voice warned getting closer to Nathan would inevitably lead to painful emotions, that she was naïve to think she could spend the next weeks making love with Nathan and not be hurt when it ended.

She ignored it, and began planning how to present her proposal.

He pulled to a smooth stop inside his garage, leaving the wide door open behind them and Helen screwed up her courage. “I have a question.”

“You do?” He blinked, as if coming back from deep thoughts. “I have something to ask you, too. Why don’t you drop off your clubs at home and come back?”

“Okay.” Her stomach twisted and turned. Did he intend to ask her the same thing? Were they finally on the same page? She hoped so.

He helped her remove her clubs from the back of his vehicle and she thanked him with a nod. After stowing them in her own garage, she headed to her en suite, stripped off her sweaty golf clothes and gave herself a quick sponge bath. Refreshed, she pondered what to wear. The maxi-dress she’d had on earlier didn’t allow for a bra.

Nerves tingling, she slipped it on and headed to Nathan’s.

The heat of the day was still trapped in the narrow space between his house and the fence. She reached through the black iron gate and lifted the latch, then made her way to the back yard. Nathan was already on his patio, standing on the edge as was his habit, staring out over the lawn.

She hesitated in the shadows at the corner of the house and studied him. A thrum of desire rippled through her. She’d gripped those buttocks as he’d thrust inside her, bit the taut line of his neck, pressed her breasts against his broad chest.

And she wanted to do it again.

He rubbed his nape, his shirt riding up to reveal a line of skin at his waist. He had also changed and now wore a pale blue tee and khaki shorts. The muscles in his calves were smooth and strong. She swallowed and took a step forward.

“Hey.” She paused where the grassy path met the patio.

He turned toward her, his pale blue gaze searing her as if he could see into her thoughts. “Hey.”

Could she do this? Could she tell Nathan she wanted to have an affair with him for the short time they had remaining? He said something she didn’t hear through the blood rushing loudly in her ears. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Want a drink?”

“Water would be great.” She’d only had two glasses of wine at the tournament, but she felt tipsy and giddy. Maybe that was why she’d become mesmerized by his legs. Legs she’d seen a million times over the years.

He nodded and slid the glass door open. She knew the layout of his house like she knew her own, and she pictured him heading to the pale oak kitchen, getting a tumbler from the cupboard beside the fridge, and filling it from the tap. The scent of fresh cut grass surrounded her and the sound of children shouting drifted from the playground two streets over. She took a seat at the table, the mesh vinyl of the high-backed chair warm and pliant.

Nathan returned with two glasses, placed one in front of her and took a seat opposite. She sipped the cool liquid, ice cubes clinking, then carefully placed it back in the circle of moisture it had left on the clear surface.

Maybe she should be a bit more subtle than the last time she’d asked him for sex. They might only have a few weeks together and she didn’t want to waste any more time wallowing in misunderstandings and confusion.

“So where are we?” She watched a bead of liquid roll down the pale green glass. “Or rather, where do we go from here?”

He huffed out an amused breath. “We’re in brand new territory. All I know for sure is I don’t want to lose our friendship.”

Relief was a cool wash through her veins. At least she would have that much. “Me, neither. I’ve done some thinking over the last few days.” And the last few minutes. Not that she was willing to confess that. “We need to start fresh, from a point of honesty and clarity.”

“If you mean forget we had sex, I don’t think I can do that.”

Her first thought was a panicked certainty he couldn’t forgive her impulsive seduction. Then she saw the heat in his direct gaze and warmth flooded her belly.

“I don’t want to forget it,” he said bluntly, “because it was outstanding, and I want to do it again. But I definitely want to forgo unnecessary drama after.”

Her fingers unclenched their grip on her glass. “Okay then. My question stands. Where do we go from here?”