Authors: Flame Arden
Resuming her real estate agent act
?
Nick fastened the lock on the shed. He should not have brought up Bob's divorce. Gossip never set well with him. "Something like that."
To reach the driveway and Eve's car, they walked hand in hand around the weekend home purchased for pleasure that had now become Bob's albatross. Even offering it for sale completely furnished his neighbor would be lucky to unload the place before spring.
Nick stopped at the rounded mass of snow in the drive, gave it a tentative brush with his hand. In some places, the layer of snow looked quite deep. Where the last rays of the lowering sun touched the snowy blanket, some had begun to melt.
"Let's get to work." He walked carefully around, examining the mound covering the car before starting to brush at the accumulation of snow with both hands. "I'll take the far side. I don't mind standing in the ditch."
On the side opposite from him, Eve began to hum "Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow," and then to sing the lyrics. She had a sweet voice, and sounded so damn cheerful, Nick couldn't help but join in.
He worked briskly. The thought of the makings of a hot toddy waiting inside lent his hands speed. He uncovered one side window, started on the hood, while at the rear of the car where the blanket of snow was not as deep, Eve worked industriously, her quick breaths appearing as steamy puffs set adrift in the cold air.
Beneath Nick's hands the hood curved down sharply, the paint a well-kept white, the car an older model he couldn't name. Yet. His next stroke uncovered a Mercedes emblem, the chrome shiny-bright, even in the lowering sun. He stilled, while his heart began to beat faster. Then he went to work on the grill with renewed interest. Snow flew in every direction.
Nick rocked back on his heels.
Ye gods
!
After a moment of puzzled contemplation he strode around the vehicle and attacked the door on the driver's side with the fast, but gentle brush of both gloved hands. Just as he'd expected, there were no hinges on the lower part of the door.
Stunned, he stepped back. In his entire lifetime, he'd only seen one other gull wing Mercedes. Not on the street, either, but in a classic car museum.
He glanced back at Eve. Successful call girls must earn a lot more than he thought.
"Where..." Nick's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Where did you get this car?"
"I inherited it," Eve said with a casual shrug, but a shadow passed over her eyes, turning them emerald green.
How many nights of intimacy had she endured to get this car? Suddenly infuriated, Nick clenched his fists.
He couldn't stand the thought of Eve in the arms of another man.
"There." She gave the irreplaceable vehicle a tender pat. "Do you think the tow truck driver—"
"I'll come out and supervise him myself." Nick's jaw clenched. His heartbeat took a long time to return to normal and he doubted his thoughts ever would.
What games had she taken part in to earn this car?
Was it worth the price?
He refused to think about Eve, even for a moment, with another man. Pivoting to put the car and all it represented in the way of sacrifice on her part behind him, Nick strode toward the back of his house. He could hear her hurrying to catch up but, upset by his unsettling thoughts, was too close to exploding to offer her a hand.
* * * * *
Eve struggled to catch up with Nick.
What put him in such a snit
? The last words they'd exchanged had been about the tow truck driver and her car.
My car.
He's just realized what that car represents.
Vanity.
And wealth
.
Nick hadn't stopped. Instead, he'd tromped right on into the house, heedless of the snow and mud he tracked inside.
Eve slumped down on the top step to catch her breath and remove her boots. She had hoped he wouldn't find out just yet, but now Nick knew she had money. Lots of money.
This time with him had been a pleasant interlude. Passionate, true. One made more enjoyable because he hadn't once pressed her for a loan.
Or demanded she bankroll a business enterprise.
Or tried to size up the plump billionaire's daughter by her net worth instead of the size of her heart, a heart she'd been on the verge of giving to Nick.
And now he'd guessed all there was to know about her.
"
Eve's a good friend to have
," she'd overheard her college roommate's date say one night. "
Stay on her good side and you'll never have to worry about where your next meal's coming from. She'll always pay
."
She'd paid, all right. Paid for being the only daughter of a man who doled out a hefty allowance in place of love.
Fighting tears, Eve knocked the snow from her boots. Then, head high, she strode inside. Even if she wasn't worthy of her father's love, over the past few days she'd discovered herself capable of sharing pleasurable hours with the man with whom she was likely falling in love.
Love
?
How easily the word slipped in, then out of her thoughts. True, she loved candied apples and corn dogs. Yellow roses and big, shaggy dogs. Mud-spattered kids and even babies with smelly diapers.
That kind of love came easy. True love was hard to find.
She had known Nick for less than twenty-four hours. How could she possibly love him?
How could she
not
?
He made love with such tender consideration that every nerve in her body sang. And his voice. The mellow timbre of his words, spoken in lust, made her blood run hot. And those knowing eyes. The way he looked at her, like there was no other woman on earth, made her ache for him to the marrow of her bones.
Yes. She loved Nick. For now, the secret would stay safely locked in her heart.
No, make that forever, now that he knew about her wealth.
She hung his down jacket on the peg near the front door and rubbed her now bare hands together.
"Cold?" Nick, on his knees adding logs to the fire, studied her thoughtfully.
Trying to compute my new worth
?
She despised this. Having money. All the second guessing and the never having a friend she could trust.
How would she get through the coming hours with her heart ripped open thanks to Nick and his awareness of her bank account?
"Frozen," she answered him lightly, "but it was fun."
Beneath Nick's skilled hands the embers flared, igniting the kindling he'd heaped on the grate. Above the dried branches and sticks a log smoked and crackled, then began to give off a delicious warmth that had Eve tugging Nick's sweater over her head.
"Hmmm. It feels good to shed some of these layers." She shook out her hair and smoothed the damp strands back from her face. "I'm a wreck. I'll just be a moment. I need to do something with my hair."
Easing her breaking heart would take longer.
Seated on a bench, Eve pulled on dry socks, the thick ones belonging to Nick she'd used as house shoes earlier in the day. Stood and brushed her tangled hair. Spread lotion on her chapped cheeks and considered the time alone well spent. She now had
some
control of her rampant thoughts.
With only tonight to spend with Nick, she didn't want to waste a second more and strode purposefully back down the hall.
He'd set her boots near the fire to dry and now offered her a steaming mug. "Hot toddy to warm your bones?"
"Thanks." She took the mug, sniffed, then gave Nick an appreciative smile. "Smells just like the ones my grandfather made."
* * * * *
Not quite, Nick thought. He had used fine imported brandy worth more than a hundred dollars a liter, but chose not to reveal the fact, or the brandy's source, a low-stakes gambler hoping to buy his way into a high-stakes poker game with the gift. The acquisition of Eve's car was what interested Nick.
"You say you inherited that little gem parked in Bob's drive?"
"Right. Granddad left it to me in his will."
And Lisa Kudrow gave you lessons in how to use that innocent look
.
With one arm casually resting on the mantel, Nick hoped his tension didn't show. For a long moment he ground his teeth, then decided he would be better off
not
knowing how she came by that car.
Galled by the idea of Eve prostituting herself for a set of fancy wheels, he downed his toddy in one searing gulp.
"The upkeep on it must be a drain," he said, unable to let her car go without further comment.
"The insurance certainly is." She had picked up a Sunset magazine, and was leafing through it with apparent interest.
"Is it usually garaged?"
Glancing up quickly, she frowned. He could see that she was gripping the magazine tight with both hands. She didn't
want
to talk about the car and he couldn't
not
, a Hell of a mess.
"What is it you're trying to find out, Nick?" Her voice shook. "If it's whether or not I can afford to drive that car, the answer is yes. My business is doing reasonably well, considering, and I have enough money in the bank to buy new boots if those are ruined. Anything else?"
She had a right to be angry. His prurient interest in her affairs were just that.
Her affairs
.
Nick shook his head. "No, nothing else. I don't know what got into me, giving you the third degree like that."
"No apologies needed. I'm used to it."
Maybe so, but Nick was certain his prodding questions had struck a nerve.
"Tell you what," he said, shamed by his behavior. "I'm going to put on some music. Then, how does a hot shower sound?"
The storm clouds lifted from Eve's eyes. "Heavenly."
"Good." He loaded the CD player with violin music, then turned to Eve. "Race you down the hall?"
Instead, she bet Nick she could get undressed before he did, and won, although she left her clothes scattered all over his room. Her cheeks were pleasantly flushed when she stepped into the shower ahead of him.
Nick didn't mind being last. The view from behind was great, too.
He adjusted the temperature of the water, adjusted the sound, then wrapped Eve in his arms, giving her a big bear hug, her car the farthest thing from his mind as her soft, warm body adjusted to his.
Why had he spent the entire afternoon outdoors? Forgoing countless opportunities for intimacy with Eve for mundane toboggan rides was
not
the action of a sane man.
Eve lathered his chest, her hands gentle, slick as she massaged his muscles. Her skin felt like silk and tasted like salty sin. He nibbled his fill before spreading a thick layer of lather over her smooth flesh.
Then the stringed instruments crescendoed, the fine spray from the shower, too, and he introduced Eve to the delights of passionate sex performed to a different, albeit unusual, rhythm. One that had her body convulsing to a Viennese waltz.
When he released his seed into Eve's welcoming body on a wave of heart-stopping need, Nick's heart thumped wildly.
Maybe he should see the hotel doctor. Or stop having sex on his feet. Such gymnastics should be left to younger men.
That thought didn't sit well with him. He liked taking Eve whenever, wherever and however he chose, with no limitations.
Maybe he just needed food.
* * * * *
After their shower and sex in the bedroom that practically blew his mind and definitely set some longevity records for staying power, Nick decided to prepare for their evening meal while Eve napped.
André had mentioned something about the makings of a special Christmas dinner. At the time, he hadn't paid much attention, Christmas being like any other day to him, but he had a feeling this day meant a good deal more to Eve.
Memories of her childhood? Lucky kid. Time was when he envied anyone with happy memories to sustain them. Now, he'd learned not to care. Success, and the work necessary to keep the casino afloat and operating within the law, left Nick no time for regrets.
He opened the refrigerator in search of whatever André had left for them to eat tonight. The items stacked together on the lower shelf were all labeled "Christmas Day." The instructions on the largest container labeled
Duckling A L'Orange
said to cook it for two hours, then let it stand five minutes before carving.
Better start it cooking now. He doubted he could hold out for two more hours without eating.
"Can't wait?" read the next tag. "Nibble on these."
Nick lifted the plastic lid. Wedges of imported cheese and artfully shaped veggies greeted him.
Bless André. A man who thinks ahead and deserving of a raise.
His chef had certainly earned one. When he saw him again just before New Years, he would tell him as much.
To appease his appetite, Nick peeled off a fat roll of string cheese and took nibbling bites while setting out the numerous trays and boxes remaining on the Christmas Day shelf.
"Rice pilaf: use a double boiler to heat this."
"Candied yams, serve hot or cold."
Choices. He'd let Eve decide, if she ever woke up.
He had made love with her for hours, bringing her to the verge of exhaustion, and now felt guilty about it, but she had uttered not one word of complaint. And from the look she'd given him the last time she peaked, she'd enjoyed every moment of their passionate joining as much as he had.
Dinner. He had to keep his mind on the meal. He needed to keep up Eve's strength.
"Toss the salad with croutons and some of this," he read, then examined an oddly shaped bottle of emulsified liquid.
"Set the table, and last of all, heat these rolls."
At least he knew how to accomplish that without detailed instructions.
"And to finish off your meal, three different desserts, Amaretto cheese cake, mince pie, or if you want something light, lime sorbet from the freezer.
"P.S. You have to whip the cream for the pie."
Nick grinned. So he wasn't the greatest of cooks. A man with his kind of money had no need to cook for himself. Except on special, very private occasions. Like tonight.