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Lauren, for example. Seeing her at the stadium was a gift from the gods that Nick did not deserve, but accepted. And though certain he would one day rue their meeting—like when her class act saw through the sham of his nouveau respectability—at the moment he was grateful for the diversion.
A glance at the card Lauren had given Nick reminded him for what address he now searched: 14 Blue Moon Lane. He spotted the street just ahead and, shortly after, her house, a modest two-story brick with a neatly manicured lawn. Turning into the drive, situated mid-point in a curve he considered dangerous, Nick braked his car and killed the engine, then got out and walked to Lauren’s front door.
He raised his hand to ring the bell, but hesitated, suddenly nervous. What the hell? he wondered, trying to analyze this unexpected reluctance to see Lauren again.
Was it concern he would do something stupid tonight that kept his hand hovering inches from the bell? Or was it worry he would put his foot in his mouth? Both, Nick instantly realized…plus raw fear that he hadn’t imagined the spark of interest he saw in her eye. That he would respond to it and reveal just how incredibly, sexually attracted he was to her, too.
Damn, but she was a beauty. Tall, generously curved, graceful. He broke out into a cold sweat just remembering how she’d looked Sunday in tight jeans, leather knee boots and that sweater…dear heaven, that sweater.
Nick swallowed hard. The door suddenly swung open.
“Are you going to stand there all night or ring the bell?” Lauren demanded, hands on hips.
“I-it’s broken,” Nick lied, for lack of a better excuse for loitering like an idiot on her front porch.
“It is not,” Lauren retorted, reaching out to thumb the button. At once chimes sounded inside the house. “So what’s the real problem?”
“I’m, uh, early.” He glanced at his watch, noting with relief that he was, indeed, early—one minute and thirty seconds.
“That’s okay. I’m ready.” Laughing, clearly not fooled by Nick’s fibs, though she couldn’t possibly know the reason for them, Lauren stepped back and ushered him into the house. “So what do you think?” she demanded, throwing out her arms as if to encompass her whole house in a hug.
“I think you look like a million dollars,” Nick replied, even though he knew she wanted his opinion of the house, not her person. His hungry gaze devoured Lauren, savoring every inch of her from auburn curls to open-toed high heels. His heart turned a back flip. His knees threatened to give way.
“Not me, doofus,” she said. “My house. Do you like it?”
“It’s incredible,” he murmured, without dragging his gaze away from her glittery black dress. Cut in a style from the past, its padded shoulders, diamond cutout neck, and knee-length skirt accentuated her shapely figure and drove his pulse to triple digits.
“I rented it three months ago with the option to buy and have been working like crazy decorating ever since. Only the bedroom is finished. I know we need to be going, but would you like to come up and look at it?”
She wanted him in her bedroom? Dazed by his good fortune, Nick followed her up the stairs. He noted that Lauren had to grasp a handful of skirt, thereby widening the slit in back, so she could manage the steps.
“I have the most gorgeous bedroom suite in the world.”
And the best legs, Nick silently added, relishing the tantalizing lengths of limb Lauren unwittingly revealed. Though tempted to hang back a step or two, he resisted. It wouldn’t do for her to catch him trying to get a glimpse of her panties. As it was, he’d have to keep his jacket buttoned all night to hide his unfortunate physical reaction to the seams of her sexy black stockings.
Lauren took a right at the top of the carpeted stair, leading Nick into a bedroom that looked as if it had come straight from “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.”
“My God,” he murmured, momentarily distracted from Lauren, herself. Slowly he turned, taking in every detail of the cream-colored furniture, the diaphanous cream-colored curtains, the plush cream-colored carpet. The only color in the room besides cream, cream, cream was a splash of burnished gold here and there, the red roses he’d sent her on Monday and, at the moment, Lauren, herself, dressed as she was in take-no-prisoners black.
“You don’t like it.”
“It’s…incredible. I feel as if I’ve stepped into a fairy tale. All that’s missing is the virgin princess, stretched out on that four-poster bed, waiting to be kissed awake by the handsome prince.”
“Princess, heck! This is my room. Therefore, I’m the one who gets the kiss.”
“Then all I can say is ‘Look out, Sleeping Beauty,’ because if you’re wearing that dress when the prince shows up, you won’t be a virgin for long.”
“Oh, I took care of that little problem years ago,” Lauren told him with an airy wave of her hand. She walked over to the cheval mirror and smoothed her dress down over her hips. “So you like the outfit?”
“It’s really beautiful.”
“Why, thank you.”
“You’re welcome…” To my sex—to my heart—to my life. Hearing the echo of his unspoken offer, Nick tensed. It would be easy to get in over his head, here. So easy.
“What’s wrong?” asked Lauren, who now stood close enough to feel the reaction.
“I was just wondering where you’re going to clip your pager,” Nick quickly lied. While he didn’t mind her knowing he found her desirable tonight, he had no intentions of admitting he’d actually, even for a millisecond, thought of her in conjunction with his tomorrows. That was an insanity he could neither explain nor understand, unless seeing her again had somehow resurrected long-buried dreams of the good life. Too bad that Nicolas Gatewood, more than anyone, knew the good life wasn’t for everyone. “Assuming you’re taking it with you.”
“Of course I’m taking it with me. And I’m putting it in your shirt pocket.” Lauren scooped up her purse, took out the pager and tucked it in his shirt pocket. Then she smoothed his shirt and tie. “Goodness, but you’re all tensed up,” she murmured, the next instant stepping behind Nick and gently kneading his shoulders. “Take off your jacket.”
“What for?”
“Your muscles are in knots.” Even through the fabric of his black jacket and snow-white shirt, her probing fingers seared his flesh. “They need attention.”
I’ll show you a muscle that needs attention! Nick’s libido screamed, further rattling- his shaky nerves. “Though I appreciate the offer, we really don’t have time, for a back rub, Lauren. We have to be at Phillip Avery’s in—” he glanced at his watch, noting that his hands…hell, his whole body…trembled at her touch “—twenty minutes, and it’s going to take every one of them to get there.”
“Then I’ll give you a rain check,” Lauren murmured, tugging playfully on his earlobe.
Nick jumped as if she’d goosed him.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Lauren demanded. Serious now, and obviously concerned, she raised his left arm and ducked under it to stand eyes-to-Adam’s-apple with him.
“I guess I am a little nervous about this dinner party. I’m not sure of the reason for it. And then there’s this phony engagement business. Speaking of which—” Nick dug into his jacket pocket and retrieved the tiny blue velvet box he’d tucked there earlier “—put this on.”
Wide-eyed with curiosity, Lauren opened the box. While she examined the diamond solitaire inside, Nick examined her and saw the stuff of which a bad boy’s dreams were made: auburn hair, big blue eyes, kissable lips. Man, oh man.
She was out of his league and always had been. Yet here they stood—face-to-face and, of all things, faking an engagement.
“Where’d you get this?” Lauren held the ring up under his nose.
“My fiancée.”
“You’ve been engaged?”
“That’s right.”
“What happened?”
“Every time she set the wedding date, I found an excuse to change it.”
“Tsk. Tsk. And how many times did this happen?”
“Four.”
“No wonder she gave the ring back to you.”
“Actually, she threw it back to me, and I never blamed her.”
To Nick’s relief, Lauren slipped the ring on her finger instead of asking any more questions about that painful period in his past. “It’s a little loose, but I promise I won’t lose it.”
“Lose it. Lose it!” Ready to escape Lauren’s pristine bedroom, Nick walked out the door and down the hall to the stairs. Lauren turned off the light and joined him. Together they descended into the foyer, where she retrieved her coat from a closet. Moments after, they left the house.
The clock on the dash said 8:10 when Nick braked to a halt in Phillip Avery’s circle drive and assisted Lauren from the car. They hurried up the steps to the house, Lauren exclaiming over everything from the massive oak trees to the antique mailbox. It warmed Nick’s heart to hear her comments. Although a noted obstetrician in one of the city’s most influential clinics—at least according to the secretary who’d ordered the roses for him—Lauren was still just Sissy West from a small Texas town on the Gulf of Mexico.
Incredible, that, and disconcertingly appealing.
“Do I need to ring the bell?” Lauren asked, no doubt referring to his earlier reluctance to ring hers.
“Feel free.”
Lauren reached up, then slowly lowered her hand. “Do you really think they’ll believe we’re in love, Nick? I mean, we didn’t practice or anything—”
“Trust me, Lauren,” Nick couldn’t resist teasing. “If I’d had the slightest idea you wanted to practice loving me, I’d have been over every night this week.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_bd716179-6175-5520-891e-8465c084be0a)
“Why, Nick Gatewood, shame on you!” Laughing over her case of nerves, Lauren punched the doorbell. She heard its ring, muted by the heavy front door. Then the ornate wooden barrier was flung open wide.
“Hello, Nicky,” crooned an. emerald-eyed brunette Lauren guessed to be in her early twenties. She included Lauren in her smile almost as an afterthought. “Please come in.”
Grateful when Nick took her hand and led the way, Lauren stepped into the massive foyer of a house that could have been Tara, just as its mistress could have been Scarlett.
Unfortunately the conservatively attired man Lauren saw hurrying down the hall toward them couldn’t have been Rhett. No, he more resembled Scarlett’s father, a fact that explained Sabrina’s attraction to Nick—who could claim more than a few Rhett-ly qualities.
Nick cleared his throat, transporting Lauren back to Texas from civil-war Georgia. “I’d like to introduce my fiancée, Lauren West, an obstetrician who works at a clinic here in town. Lauren, this is Phillip Avery, one of the cofounders of Avery, Sanders and Wright, and his wife, Sabrina.”
“Fiancée? Well, I’ll be damned,” responded Phillip, with a delighted grin. He reached for Lauren’s hand and pumped it vigorously up and down. “When did all this happen?”
“Just what I was about to ask,” interjected Sabrina, her smile long since vanished, her skin tone as green as her eyes.
“It happened Sunday before last, actually,” Nick replied, laying his left arm casually over Lauren’s shoulders and pulling her closer to his side. Lauren slipped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his shoulder.
“We’ve known each other since we were teenagers,” she said. “So naturally we were both surprised when our friendship blossomed into love.”
Sabrina made a choking sound, which turned into a cough.
“Are you all right, darling?” Phillip asked, reaching out to pat her on the back.
“Fine,” she snapped, shaking off his solicitous touch. Her venomous gaze nailed Lauren to the wall, or would have if Nick hadn’t stepped in the line of fire. Lauren didn’t know if he did it on purpose, but appreciated the gesture.
“We aren’t ready to announce the engagement to everyone yet,” Nick then said. “But we did want you two to know.”
“We’re honored to be some of the chosen few,” Phillip told him, clearly oblivious to his wife’s reaction. “And I think this wonderful news deserves a toast. Follow me.” That said, the portly architect led the way into the den. An elaborate wet bar covered one wall, a massive fireplace, another. The third and fourth were made up of floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books that Lauren bet the lady of the house had never dusted, much less read.
Phillip handed everyone a wineglass, into which he poured a measure of sparkling pink champagne, talking all the while. “I have to admit that lately I’ve been worried about Nick, who is the most gifted architect I’ve ever known, by the way.”
Nick flushed crimson in response to the praise and avoided Lauren’s gaze.
“He seemed restless,” Phillip continued. “A bit down. In fact, I actually wondered if he was going to come back after his vacation in a couple of weeks. I guess I can quit worrying about that now.”
“Yes, you can,” Lauren murmured with a questioning glance at Nick. His expression told her nothing.
Moments later, drinks in hand, the four of them toasted an engagement as fake as Sabrina Avery’s beauty mark. They next exchanged enough small talk to satisfy Phillip’s curiosity about Lauren. Their young hostess then excused herself to the kitchen to check on the meal, sweetly inviting Lauren to come along.
“If I’m not back in ten minutes, call 911,” Lauren whispered to Nick, under the guise of kissing his cheek. His eyes danced in response, and she saw a smile tugging the corners of his lips.
So he was enjoying this, huh? Well, no wonder. She was the one about to face the firing squad.
Lauren found the kitchen as impressive as the rest of the house and was surprised to discover that Sabrina seemed to know her way around the room.
“Something smells wonderful,” Lauren murmured, trying, for the sake of Nick’s career, to be friendly with this woman-child.
“It’s an old family recipe. My parents own a restaurant in New York. They feature European cuisine. I was practically raised in the kitchen.” She lifted the lid of a large, stainless steel pot and stirred the contents with a wooden spoon, releasing more aromatic steam. “Do you cook?”
“Not much,” Lauren admitted without thought.
“Poor Nicky,” murmured Sabrina. “He loves my cooking, you know.” She replaced the lid on the cook pot and turned to face Lauren. “You’ve known him how long, did you say?”
“At least twenty-five years.” Which is a couple of years longer than you’ve been alive, sweetheart.
“When is the wedding?”
“We’re not sure yet, since we both have such busy schedules.”
“May I give you a word of advice?”
A word of advice? From a preschooler? Though Lauren knew Sabrina’s action resulted from her immaturity and jealousy, she barely managed to contain her sarcasm when she replied, “I’m all ears.”
“My husband may not be particularly intuitive, but he is right about one thing. Nicky only pretends he is satisfied with his life.” Sabrina tossed her long dark hair, then lifted her chin, her gaze arrogant and disdainful. “He’s a rebel—a reckless, restless rebel—who will one day run away from everything, including you.”
Lauren abruptly lost her battle with her own good manners. “Your point?”
“Enjoy him while you have him.”
“Oh, but I do,” Lauren replied, by now sick of the woman’s melodrama and oddly disturbed by it. “In fact, that’s why we were late tonight…because we were enjoying each other so much.” Lauren spun on her heel and exited the kitchen, but not before she saw Sabrina’s jaw drop.
When Lauren burst into the den a second later, her eyes met Nick’s across the room. He leapt to his feet, a sure sign her anger must be showing. Phillip, clearly confused by Nick’s abrupt action, stood, too.
“Your headache must be worse,” Nick said to Lauren, taking her arm.
“Much,” Lauren told him through gritted teeth. “If I could just get some fresh air.”
“Why don’t you take her out in the garden?” Phillip suggested, clearly concerned. “You know the way, I believe. I’ll call you when everything is ready.”
“Thanks,” Nick murmured, grasping Lauren by the wrist and nearly dragging her down the hall and out double glass doors into the garden. The October breeze was a welcome relief, instantly cooling Lauren’s flaming temper. Cherishing the night sounds and garden smells, she let Nick lead her through the softly illuminated area to a covered bench swing.
“Speak to me,” he said the moment they were settled.
