Authors: Debra Dixon
“Mercy’s a healthy, red-blooded, American girl.”
Looking back over his shoulder, Nick had to agree. She was wearing the same outfit she’d worn the first time he met her—old, faded cutoffs and a little scrap of a white top. From where he was standing, Mercy definitely looked all-American—all legs and curves and memories of last night. Then his attention swiveled back to Sophie, who waited patiently and looked a bit smug.
“Mercy is all of those things and more,” he told her. “So what’s your point?”
“You’ve won a tiny battle, not the war.” Sophie smoothed back some silver hair with short broad fingers;
the gesture unconsciously betrayed her uncertainty about how she wanted to approach the subject at hand. “Spending the night doesn’t constitute considerable progress. That girl … You’re not …”
As she hesitated, obviously searching for words, a grin tugged at the corners of Nick’s mouth. “Don’t spare my feelings, Sophie. I might like my whiskey with Coke, but I like my truth straight up.”
“Well, to be perfectly blunt, Mercy’s not going to change her mind about marriage because Nick Devereaux spent the night.”
“Who said anything about marriage?”
A peal of laughter broke from Sophie. “Don’t kid a kidder, son. If you were only interested in the bedroom, then why did you announce your intentions to the entire neighborhood by planting yourself on that front porch like you’d come to stay?”
“Is that what I did?”
“That’s exactly what you did. I knew you had marriage on your mind when I saw the look on your face at the Fourth of July picnic. You looked like you’d been kicked in the head by a mule. I thought to myself, Now there’s a man our Mercy won’t be able to scare off. You’re head over heels for the girl, so let’s not waste time arguing about something we both know is true.”
Nick mulled that over while he scratched Witch behind the ears. “I didn’t realize it was quite so obvious. Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep it in mind. And thanks for keeping Witch.” Mercy hovered anxiously on the porch, so he smiled to let her know that everything was fine and patted his leg for Witch to get up. “Let’s go, girl.”
“I’ve met her parents, you know,” Sophie said casually as he stepped off the curb. “Both of them.”
A simple sentence, but one that stopped Nick cold. He glanced back at Sophie, all the while trying to look casual so Mercy wouldn’t think she needed to dash over and rescue him. As easily as he could, he stopped the dog and prompted Sophie at the same time. “And?”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever met two more self-absorbed people as those knife-happy doctors. All they can talk about is procedures and who’s been asked to speak where. Can’t imagine how Mercy managed to turn out so well having to grow up with those two egomaniacs as examples. It’s a pity, really.”
“Sounds like it,” Nick said in the land of voice that was meant to encourage Sophie’s observations.
“A real pity for that girl. Growing up with the kind of people who like to blame their troubles on everyone but themselves.” Sophie put her hands on her thin hips and rolled her eyes. “And the way those two get married, there’s always a convenient new victim to blame for their desperate unhappiness.”
“You mean when the relationship falls apart?”
“Of course. It’s inevitable.”
“Inevitable?” Nick prodded.
“Those two probably couldn’t hold a marriage together with a gallon of Super Glue even if their lives depended on it. But why should they bother trying? There’s always Mercy to pick up the pieces. To listen to their sad tales of woe and heartache. Always Mercy who holds their hands until they find a new victim who makes them feel exciting and happy for a while.”
Suddenly everything clicked into place for him.
Mercy had given up being happy so she could avoid being unhappy. She wasn’t scared of commitment. She was scared of love, scared it wouldn’t last. She was more scared of being hurt than she was of being alone.
“Remind me to send you roses, Sophie.”
“What you can send me is an invitation.”
“To the benefit? You got it.”
Sophie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I can see I’m going to have to be plain. I’m a lonely old woman since Art passed on last year. We never had children, so I’ve gotten in the habit of pretending that Mercy is mine. I’d like to see that girl walk down the aisle before I’m done, and you’re the first genuine prospect I’ve had. Don’t blow it.”
Nick made a show of adjusting Witch’s collar as he said, “I don’t suppose you’d mind bouncing a a grandbaby or two before you’re done?”
Beaming, Sophie said, “I believe we understand one another.”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe we do.”
Sunday morning Mercy kissed Nick good-bye and shut the door. Smiling confidently at Witch, she said, “See how easy that is? A couple of great nights and now it’s back to normal. No muss. No fuss. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.”
Witch barked and wagged.
“You’re damn right. We can cut it off anytime we want. Just ’cause I sleep with him doesn’t mean I have to sleep with him all the time. We don’t need some man cluttering up the house.” Mercy headed
for the kitchen and leftovers. “Although this one can really cook.”
“What are you doing here?” Mercy asked in exasperation when she opened the door Monday morning. How was she going to run this affair according to her timetable if he was going to show up anytime he felt like it?
“Ah,
chère
, someone’s got to fix the back-fence gate before it falls off the hinges.”
“That someone doesn’t have to be you,” she told him firmly, making a point of not opening the screen.
“You gonna do it?”
“Eventually!”
“Right. You got a jigsaw to trim off the bottom of the gate where it’s dragging? A circular saw? Any kind of saw for that matter?”
Mercy wanted to shut the door in his face, but the truth was, she had missed him, even though a mere twenty-four hours shouldn’t be enough time to miss anybody. “Okay, Mr. Fix-It, what’s it going to cost me?”
“Nothing.”
Mercy blanched and clutched a hand to her breast dramatically. “Oh, my word! That much? Please. I’d rather pay than owe you.”
“Darlin’, I’d rather you owe me.”
“I’ll just bet you would.” Giving in, Mercy said, “Come in, but don’t expect me to entertain you or go to the hardware store. I’ve got work to do. You’ll just have to make yourself at home.”
“Believe me,
chère
, I intend to,” Nick murmured
as he gave her a kiss and then headed for the back, toolbox in hand.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Mercy whispered when he disappeared into the dining room. “And once you do, I’m afraid I’ll get used to having you around.”
By the weekend, Mercy found herself thinking in terms of “when Nick gets home” instead of “the next time I see Nick.” That stopped her cold, until she rationalized that the amount of time they spent together didn’t matter as long as she remembered the arrangement was temporary. She hadn’t done anything stupid yet. She hadn’t
officially
asked him to move in. She hadn’t vowed eternal love. She was safe. As safe as a girl could be around Nick Devereaux.
In the wee hours of the morning, Mercy turned over to snuggle closer to Nick, who slept peacefully beside her and adjusted for her body, never waking. Mercy smiled, knowing it must be raining. Nick actually slept when it rained, real sleep, restful sleep. Contentedly, Mercy closed her eyes, intending to drift back to sleep until she realized that it wasn’t raining. Not a drop. She stayed awake the rest of the night guarding his sleep and feeling incredibly powerful. The man who didn’t sleep was sleeping in her bed. She felt as if she’d been given an incredible gift.
As D day approached, Witch got rounder and rounder. Mercy and Nick placed bets on exactly when
she’d explode. Between their schedules, they made sure one of them was at home all the time during the last few days. Just in case.
Freshly showered, Nick leaned on the door facing Mercy’s living room, noting the subtle changes that had taken place in his life during the last two weeks. For one thing, his apartment was nothing more than a place to hang his hat now that an antiquated house in Haunt, Kentucky, was home. His collection of tools was growing in direct proportion to the number of fix-it-yourself projects he had completed, and a few of his old jerseys had somehow found their way into Mercy’s possession.
The gold-colored jersey she wore at the moment said GATOR BAIT in deep green letters on the front and BAYOU GRILL in blood red on the back.
There were other changes too. Like becoming a pseudo-father. After pacing nervously for the better part of two days, Witch had finally delivered her puppies. Most of the furniture had been shoved back to make room for a large whelping box, from which incredibly loud suckling noises were emanating.
Mercy, wearing only his shirt, perched on the edge of the sheet-covered navy-striped sofa as she leaned over to peek at the nine, newly arrived, plump black puppies. Occasionally, the contented suckling noises were interrupted by a complaint from a disgruntled puppy who’d fallen off a nipple and couldn’t find it again. Cocking his head to listen more closely, Nick could hear a faint umm-umm-umm noise escalating from a grunt to a cry. Efficiently, Mercy reached over
the box and pointed the wailing puppy in the proper direction.
Mercy was an authority on the latest in accepted canine delivery procedures. At least on paper. However, Nick handled the actual whelping, due to his previous experience in delivering babies. Not that his experience stopped Mercy from hovering nervously during the whole process, offering advice, and reading aloud from what seemed like an endless supply of books on how to whelp puppies.
Finally, Nick had had to sit her down and tell her point-blank that she was beginning to make Witch nervous. He’d heard couples say that if you could survive wallpapering without killing each other, then nothing could tear you apart. Nick thought whelping puppies was right up there with wallpapering as the acid test of a relationship.
Once the puppies had arrived, he’d barely been able to talk Mercy into leaving them long enough to shower. Right now, as she watched mother and puppies resting peacefully, Mercy’s expression was positively maternal. Nick thought the expression looked good on her. As he pushed away from the frame he asked, “I thought I’d find you here. Are you gonna to sit there all day?”
Noticing him, Mercy smiled and crooked her finger. “They’ve gained weight just in the time we’ve been gone. I swear. Come see.” Mercy patted the sofa before gazing back down at the puppies. “Mother Nature sure knew what she was doing with this baby business.”
“I thought one of your rules was no children.”
Mercy looked up, startled. “I never said that. As I recall, that was one of your sweeping assumptions.”
“So, children are okay with you?” Nick queried, an odd light in his dark eyes.
“Yes. Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“Curiosity.”
“Killed the cat,” she told him.
Planting a firm kiss on her mouth, Nick slid down on the sofa and told her, “If I’m going to die, then I have to know one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you put on a bra with that tux jacket you’re so fond of wearing on the show? The one that’s cut down to here.” He touched her abdomen in the general vicinity of her belly button.
She primly swatted his hand away while getting up. “My tux jacket is not cut down to there. You know, Nick, you seem to have this thing about women’s underwear.”
“Only yours,
chère.
Only yours.” With a quick tug, Nick pulled her off balance, tumbled her back onto the sofa, her legs landing in his lap and her rump on the cushion beside him. Nick fingered the edge of the gold jersey before he slipped his hand beneath it. “And right now, yours is in my way.”
Mercy caught her breath as his hand curled around the elastic of her panties and pulled them down until she could kick them off. The instant softening she felt every time Nick touched her continued to surprise her. Never in her life had she melted simply because a man touched her.
With calculated slowness, his index finger toyed with the inside of her knee. He could see the muscles in her neck contract as she swallowed. Her thighs parted a fraction of an inch in silent entreaty. Catching
and holding her gaze, Nick moved his hand higher on her thigh, toward the soft, dark curls barely revealed by the upturned edge of the jersey. When his fingers pushed through the curls and splayed against her belly, Mercy closed her eyes with a ragged sigh.
Wanting Nick this much had to be crazy, she told herself, but she couldn’t manage to care. Instead, she slid a leg off his lap and opened her body to him, trusting him to know what she needed. As she opened, the pad of his thumb found the center of her desire, manipulating it and creating tiny pulses of pleasure designed to drive her mad. Too soon her hips were lifting gently with the rhythm of his stokes, and she knew she needed more. She needed the inexplicable satisfaction she got when her body and soul were fused with Nick’s.
Watching Mercy writhe beneath his touch was incendiary to Nick’s passion. When her back arched, he pulled her up, his pants already open and his arousal free. Mercy straddled his hips, her mouth slightly open as she lowered herself to complete the union.
Nick shuddered and tried to hold her there by resting the palms of his hands on her hips and molding his fingers around her silky bottom, but she wouldn’t stay still. She squirmed beneath his fingertips, breaking his hold and rising until she held only the tip of his erection inside her, teasing him with tiny plunges that engulfed the tip and inflamed him further. Giving in, Nick pulled her down roughly as he thrust into her, repeating the action again and again until he knew he’d explode.
Always lost in his arms, Mercy began to quiver.
Heat coiled in her womb, threatening to spill through her body, and when it did, she grabbed onto Nick and held tight. A second later she felt him shudder and heard him whisper hoarsely, “
Bon Dieu. Merci Dieu!
” as the pleasure claimed him too.
Nick stood outside the door of the complimentary suite the hotel had given Mercy for the evening and remembered the last time he’d gone knocking on a strange door looking for Midnight Mercy. Bracing himself, he waited for her. When she opened the door, his heart actually stopped as something one of the paramedics said came back to him. Nick couldn’t take his eyes off her. He whispered, “Have mercy on my soul.”