Cara looked so sweet lying there, it reminded him of the days after the earthquake, when she’d been hurting so much she had to sleep sitting up.
When she needed him.
He also remembered the last time they’d been together at his house and the incredible sex. Had Lance seen them together like that? All along, everyone had assumed that Lance had been shooting at Cara. Maybe he’d been aiming for his wife’s lover.
Nick stretched and eased himself out of the bed. He’d slept better here than in the hospital, but that was no surprise. He didn’t miss the hard bed, lousy food, and constant noise. He put his hand on Cara’s pretty face and kissed her forehead. “Hey, Maxine, it’s time for lunch.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Maxine left last week.”
“The hell she did.”
Minutes later, Tamara rolled in a cart with their lunch. Nick sat with Cara at the table by the window and ate hearty clam chowder, tuna sandwiches, and fresh fruit salad. “Does everything taste good here, or is it because I’ve been eating hospital food?”
“Cassie asked me for a list of the foods you liked. We’re having chicken pot pie tonight.”
“And rocky road ice cream?”
Her eyes sparkled. “I thought you weren’t allowed to eat that.”
“Who says?” Nick finished the last few bites of his sandwich and stared at Cara for several seconds. “Why didn’t you tell me about my house?”
“You’d just been shot. What did you expect me to do, spring it on you the minute you opened your eyes?”
“You could have told me yesterday or the day before, so I didn’t have to see it on television.” He threw down his napkin. “I hate it when people keep things from me.”
“And I hate it when people yell at me.” Cara walked out the door.
Nick knew he shouldn’t have yelled at her. Not about this. It wasn’t her fault her husband shot him or burned his house, but she could have told him.
Somebody
should have told him before he saw it on television.
He paced off his anger and walked down the hallway to Cara’s suite to apologize. He tapped on the door, but she didn’t answer. “Cara.” He banged on the door. “Come on, open up, honey.”
“Go away,” she yelled.
“I’m sorry. I’m a jerk sometimes.”
“I’m sorry you’re a jerk sometimes, too.”
Nick smiled. She wasn’t too upset to throw his words back at him. He lowered his voice. “I didn’t mean to yell.”
She opened the door, but didn’t invite him in. “What do you want?”
“A little TLC wouldn’t hurt.”
She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “I’m fresh out.”
“Be nice to me. I’m wounded.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, I know.”
She sighed. “Do you want to order clothes over the Internet or send somebody shopping or what? You’re wearing Tony’s clothes. There’s one change in the closet. Otherwise, you’re going naked.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Well, now, that has possibilities.”
She rubbed her forehead and he knew she was hiding a smile. “What am I going to do with you, Nick?”
“What happened to my shoes?” He was still wearing the slippers Aunt Sophia brought him in the hospital. He had his wallet, but he hadn’t seen his shoes or clothes since he was shot.
“Your shoes went in the dumpster at the hospital, along with the clothes you were wearing. Mine, too.”
He owed his life to a woman who freaked out at the sight of blood. “I can’t believe you, Little Miss Wuss, put your hands in all that blood.”
“If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
He leaned on the doorframe. “Are we going to stand in the door, or are you going to invite me in?”
Cara sighed and backed away. “All right, come in and we’ll shop for clothes.”
Nick sat beside her at the computer and picked out what he wanted. She didn’t offer to buy more or suggest more expensive clothes. She bought only what he told her to buy. He pulled his credit card out. “I’m paying.”
“Fine. You pay.” She entered his credit card number, finished the order, and handed him his card.
Nick stuffed the card in his wallet. “I never bought clothes that way before.”
“You’re in no shape to go shopping right now.”
He gently rubbed her back. “I’m sorry I yelled.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Okay, I’m not.” He dropped his hand. “Why did he have to burn the house, too?”
“He has a nasty temper, Nick. I didn’t know that until we moved to Seattle. When I left him, I cut off his money supply, and then we tricked him and took my car. He’s got to be livid by now, and he doesn’t just yell like you when he’s pissed. He gets even.”
“The bastard probably thinks he can still kill you and get all your money.”
“He’s wrong. I made a new will and he’s not getting anything. I’ll give it all away.” She walked to the window and looked out. “Sometimes I wish I could live like normal people, with a job and bills, and—”
“Well, now, that’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“No, I suppose not,” she said quietly.
He walked over and put his arm around her shoulders. “I won’t yell again.”
A little laugh slipped out of her. “Oh, yes, you will.”
“Okay, but I won’t mean it.”
She put her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “Are all Italians like you?”
“Are all rich broads like you?”
Cara had a strength she probably didn’t know she had until her husband pushed her over the edge. Like Aunt Sophia, she was unselfish and compassionate. A good person. He loved her more every day, but he couldn’t do anything about it now. He had to get his strength back and build a new life for himself before he could plan the future. And Cara had to rid herself of the snake who’d conned her into marrying him.
<>
Gerry arrived the next day, Bonnie went home, and Nick’s new clothes were delivered. Over the next three days, Cara watched her staff fuss over Nick. He called them each by name, and teased and bantered with them like old friends. In return, they pampered and spoiled him. And he ate it up.
One afternoon, Cara watched Cassie talking with Nick and knew what was going on. Every meal they’d had since Nick came had been cooked for him. Cherry pie with rocky road ice cream, tender roast beef and mashed potatoes, broiled halibut with pasta, thick grilled sandwiches, oatmeal pancakes for breakfast—it was all made with Nick in mind.
At dinner that evening, Teresa brought Nick a big piece of cherry pie smothered in ice cream. Cara shook her head. “Another week of this and I won’t be able to stand you.”
Nick swallowed a bite of pie. “Hey, don’t pick on me.”
“They’re spoiling you, Nick.”
“Yeah, so? Something wrong with that?” Nick shoveled in another bite of pie and ice cream while Gerry laughed.
“Is it safe to leave you here alone while Gerry and I go meet with Ron Holcomb? You won’t eat a whole pie or something while we’re gone, will you?”
Nick shot Cara a look out of the corner of his eye. “They only give me one piece at a time.”
She knew the people on her staff would give Nick anything he asked for, including a second piece of pie. Lance had treated the staff as a necessary nuisance, but Nick had made friends with every one of them, including the proper and reserved Mr. Pettibone.
Nick wiped pie off his face. “You don’t look happy about meeting with Holcomb.”
“I can’t stand to be in the same room with him, but I need to know what he does before I can get rid of him.”
Wiping a drip of ice cream off his shirt, Nick asked, “You’re meeting in his office?”
“Yes, of course.”
He shook his head.
Cara opened her hands, asking, “What’s wrong with that?”
“There’s a psychological thing going there.” Nick gestured with his fork. “His office, he’s in control. Your office, you’re the boss.”
“Like body language?”
“Have you ever seen a discussion where one person sits down and the other stands close and looks down at him?”
“Like a teacher and student?”
“Yeah. I’ve seen it in business, too. The one standing is showing his dominance. It’s the same thing with territory.”
Cara stared at Nick. Every time she thought she knew him, he came up with something like this. “How do you know these things, Nick?”
He lifted his chin in a cocky look. “I know lots of stuff.”
Gerry made a little choking sound, but he had the grace not to laugh out loud this time. Cara ignored Gerry and asked Nick, “Are you saying I should have Ron Holcomb come to me?”
“Damn right. Show him your time is more important than his.” Nick scooped up another bite of pie. “Besides, if he’s not in his office, he can’t disappear to talk on the phone, which is another way of saying his time is more important than yours.”
“It’s better to meet in his office, Nick. If he needs papers or something, they’ll be handy.”
What Nick said made sense, but Ron Holcomb knew she owned the estate. He wouldn’t dare play those games with her, would he?
<>
The next morning, Cara and Gerry arrived at the estate offices to find Ron Holcomb on the phone. They sat in the waiting room for fifteen minutes before he came out, apologizing, so Cara was irritated before they walked into his office. It was the same stunt he’d pulled on her birthday. Ron fiddled with the files in the cabinet behind his desk, pulling one page out, then searching and pulling out another.
Her frustration building, Cara exchanged a tight-lipped look with Gerry. Ron knew they were coming. Why wasn’t he prepared? They’d already wasted twenty minutes. If she didn’t need Ron to help her learn about the estate, she’d fire him today, right now.
Gerry said, “Ron, if you’re not prepared—”
“I’m prepared. Everything is right here.”
The phone rang. He picked it up, smiled, and put his hand over the receiver. “Would you excuse me, please. I won’t be a minute.”
Cara walked out to the reception area with Gerry. She paced, her jaw clamped so tightly her teeth hurt. She’d wasted an hour of travel time and another twenty minutes waiting for him to finish his phone call, and now he was on that damn phone again. Anger burned inside her. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but Nick was right. Ron Holcomb was playing power games.
Marge apologized. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your meeting like that, but he’s been waiting for that call.”
“Is that call regarding the business of the estate?” asked Gerry.
Marge looked a little embarrassed. “I don’t know. He told me to put it through no matter what he was doing.”
Cara was livid. “Marge, tell Mr. Holcomb I expect him at my home this afternoon at three, and tell him to be prepared to work.”
“Oh, I’m afraid he has another commitment this afternoon.”
“Three o’clock,” Cara said firmly and walked out the office door. “I hate that man more every day. I will never schedule a meeting with him in that office again.” Didn’t Ron know that he worked for her?
“You could move the office to your house.”
“Oh, please! I don’t want that creep in my home.”
Gerry didn’t say another word.
<>
Nick overheard the servants talking about Miss Andrews and Mr. Merlino. They were on their way home already, which meant they weren’t in the office more than thirty or forty minutes. Something must have happened.
Nick met them at the door, but Cara walked past him without speaking. From the angry look on her face, things had not gone well in Holcomb’s office. Motioning at her retreating form, he asked Gerry, “What’s with her?”
“Ron Holcomb, what else?” Gerry told him what happened. “He should be here at three. If he’s not, she’s going to explode.”
“Bastard. I told her not to go there in the first place.”
Cara walked up behind him. “I don’t need any I-told-you-so lectures, Nick.”
“Cara, he’s not taking you seriously.”
“Nick’s right,” said Gerry. “Holcomb thinks you’ll get tired or frustrated and get out of his hair.”
“I’m frustrated all right. With him. He thinks I’ll get tired of the business end of things?”
Gerry’s shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “Sure looks that way to me. Put him in his place, then get to work. The sooner you get a handle on how he operates, the sooner you can get rid of him. I don’t care how good a job he’s done with the estate. You don’t need people like that on the payroll.”
“I saw a golf trophy in his office,” said Nick. “Does he play golf one day a week?”
Cara’s brows knit in a questioning look. “Why?”
“If he takes one afternoon off to play golf, that’s the day to schedule meetings.”
Gerry grinned wickedly. “I’ll bet Paul knows.”