One Special Christmas & Home for the Holidays (27 page)

“No problem,” Nick assured her with a smile. “I just want to make sure we're on the same wavelength.”

After braving the long line at the order window they returned to Nick's car, leaning against the hood as they ate their chocolate chip concretes, so called because of their thick texture. As they enjoyed the frozen concoction Nick kept her amused with comments and outrageous speculations about various people in the crowd.

“See that guy over there? The one in the Bermuda shorts who looks like he's made too many visits here? He's a spy,” he said solemnly.

“How do you figure that?” Laura asked, smiling up at him.

“It's elementary, my dear. Spies are picked to blend in with the crowd. Would
you
think he was a spy?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Well, there you have it.”

Laura giggled. “Nick Sinclair, you're crazy. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“I've been called a few things in my life,” he admitted. “But ‘crazy'…no, that's a new one. Should I be insulted?”

“No. You're crazy in the best sense of the word,” she said, laughing.

“Well, it must not be so bad if it makes you laugh,” he said softly, his voice suddenly serious.

Laura was thrown off balance by the change in mood, preferring the safe, easy banter of moments before. She shifted uncomfortably and focused on scraping the last bite of custard out of the bottom of her cup.

Nick sensed her withdrawal. For some reason, relationships with men made her uncomfortable, he realized. She seemed fine when the give and take was light and friendly, but introduce an element of seriousness or intimacy and she backed off, retreating behind a wall of caution. Why? He felt certain there was an explanation. And probably not a pleasant one. But he was equally sure that at this stage in their relationship she was not about to share it with him. He'd have to earn her trust first. And pushing or coming on too strong were not the right tactics, he warned himself. In fact, he instinctively knew that doing so would be the surest way to lose her.

“Well, I see you've managed to polish off that entire concrete,” he said lightly, peering into her now empty container. His head was so close that Laura could smell the distinctive scent of his aftershave, could see the few flecks of silver in his full, incredibly soft-looking hair.

“Uh, yes, I did, didn't I? And on top of all that pasta, too.” She groaned. “This was not a heart-healthy meal. And it wasn't so great for the waistline, either.”

“You don't have to worry about that,” he assured her.

Laura looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

Nick was taken aback by her prickly reaction. “It was
a compliment, Laura. You don't have an extra ounce of fat on your entire body.”

She looked down dejectedly, playing with her spoon. So Nick thought she looked scrawny, too. And scrawny was not attractive.

“Laura?” Nick's voice was uncertain. When she didn't look up, he reached over and gently cupped her chin in his hand, turning her head, forcing her to look at him. He gazed into her eyes, which suddenly looked miserable and lost, and felt an almost overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms. He resisted the urge with difficulty. “Laura?” he repeated questioningly, his voice now husky. “What is it?”

She couldn't lie, not when his eyes were locked on hers with such intensity. “I'm just sort of paranoid about being skinny,” she said softly. “It's not very…very—” she searched for the right word “—appealing,” she finished.

Nick frowned. Good grief, did Laura think she was unattractive? It wasn't possible. No one could look like her and be unaware of her effect on the opposite sex. Or could they? he wondered incredulously. She didn't seem to hold a very high opinion of her physical attributes. Yes, she was on the thin side. But most models would kill to have her figure. And he personally preferred slender women. Voluptuous beauty had never appealed to him.

“Laura, you can't be serious,” he said quietly, deciding that honesty was the only tactic. “You are a gorgeous woman! You knocked me off my feet today at the party in that slinky little black dress you had on.” Usually he didn't lay his cards out on the table so early
in the game, but her need for reassurance outweighed his need to protect his ego.

Laura's eyes reflected disbelief. “You're being very kind, Nick, but—”

“Laura, stop it,” he said fiercely, cutting her off abruptly. Her look of shock made him soften his tone. “Look, I am not giving you empty compliments. I respect you too much for that. I'm telling you the truth. You are an extremely attractive woman, and if I wasn't looking into your eyes right now and reading the uncertainty, I'd think you were just fishing for compliments. It's almost beyond my comprehension that someone who looks like you should have any doubts about her attractiveness.”

Laura swallowed past the lump in her throat and felt hot tears forming behind her eyes. She wanted to believe Nick. Wanted to desperately. But life had made her wary. And you didn't lose that wariness overnight, no matter how kind a person was.

“It's a long story, Nick,” she said softly.

“I figured it might be.” He casually draped an arm around her shoulders. “Sometimes it helps to talk,” he offered.

“Sometimes,” she agreed, conscious of the warmth of his fingers gently massaging her shoulder. His simple touch made her yearn for too much too soon.

“But not now?” he suggested.

“Not yet,” she amended, knowing she was leaving the door open for the future.

“I'll settle for that,” he said. “Ready to call it a night?” At her nod he stood and, extending a hand, drew her to her feet. He kept his hand familiarly in the small of her back as they walked around the car,
releasing her only after he'd opened the door and she made a move to slip inside.

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly shy.

“You're welcome.”

The ride home was brief and quiet, but it was a companionable silence. Only when he pulled up in front of her apartment and came around to open her car door did he speak, glancing around as he did so.

“It's not very well lit here, is it?” he said.

“I've never thought about it,” she replied truthfully.

“You don't wander around here at night, do you?” he asked worriedly.

“No. Nick, it's a safe neighborhood, if that's what you're asking,” she assured him.

“If you say so,” he replied, but he sounded unconvinced.

They walked up the dimly lit stairway to her second-floor apartment, and Nick silently took the key from her hand and fitted it into the lock.

Laura looked up at him, her eyes suddenly sad. She'd had a wonderful evening, an evening she'd never expected to have again. Now she felt a little like Cinderella at midnight as the chiming clock broke the magic spell, knowing that today had been a chance encounter that was unlikely to be repeated.

Nick saw the melancholy look steal over her eyes and reached up to brush a few stray strands of hair back from her face. Laura's breath caught in her throat at his intimate touch, and her heart began to pound.

“You look suddenly unhappy, Laura,” he said, his voice edged with concern. “Didn't you have a good time tonight?”

“Oh, yes! I did! I'm just sorry it's over,” she admitted. “It's the nicest evening I've had in a long time,” she told him honestly. “I just hope I didn't disrupt any of your plans. This was so unexpected.”

“Yes, it was. And yes, you did. But I'm not complaining,” he said with a gentle smile that warmed her right down to her toes.

“Well…” Should she ask him to come in? she wondered. What was the protocol? Did an invitation to come in automatically include an invitation for more? She'd been out of the dating world too long to know. What she
did
know was that casual intimacy wasn't her style. It went against everything she believed as a Christian.

Nick, sensing her dilemma, solved the problem. He would have liked nothing better than to follow her through that door, to hold her in his arms until she melted against him, to leisurely taste her sweet kisses. But now was not the time, and he knew it.

“I'll see you soon, Laura,” he said, his voice strangely husky. “Get a good night's sleep.”

Nick hesitated. He knew she was scared. He didn't know why, but her fear was real. And he knew he couldn't push her. At the same time, he had to let her know that tonight's chance encounter had turned into a great deal more than that for him.

Carefully, so as not to frighten her, he lifted her hair back from her face, letting its silky strands slip through his fingers. He caressed her cheek with his thumb, his eyes locked on hers. He thought he detected desire, but if so, it was so tangled up with fear that the two were indistinguishable. Suddenly fearful himself, he slowly leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers
in a brief but tender kiss. He had followed his instinct, which told him to do that. But the same instinct told him to do no more. So with one last stroke of his thumb, exercising a degree of self-control that surprised him, he reluctantly stepped back.

“Good night, Laura,” he said with a smile. “Pleasant dreams.”

And then he disappeared down the dim stairway, leaving her filled with a deep, aching emptiness tempered only by the tender new buds of a frightening, uninvited hope.

“I
haven't heard you mention our friend, Nick Sinclair, lately,” Sam said, helping herself to another potato skin.

Laura glanced around the popular eatery, crowded on Saturday night with singles, and shook her head. “Why in the world did you pick this place?” she asked, the incessant din of high-pitched voices and laughter giving her a headache.

“It's a hot spot,” Sam informed her.

“It's a meat market,” Laura replied flatly.

Sam shrugged. “Same difference. So how's Nick?”

Laura sighed. “Sam, do you ever give up?”

“Nope,” she replied without apology, taking a bite out of a potato skin and chewing it thoughtfully. “That's the problem with you, you know. You've given up.”

“Given up?”

“Yeah. On men.”

“How is it we always end up talking about men?”

“Because good friends should discuss important things. And men certainly fall into that category.”

“Sam, you've been married—right?”

“Right.”

“And it was a disaster, right?”

“Right.”

“So how come you want to find another man and repeat the mistake?”

“Laura,” Sam said patiently. “Just because we married two losers doesn't mean all men are bad. So, we got unlucky. There are plenty of good men out there who would love to meet a wholesome, hardworking woman like you and a straightforward, slightly kooky woman like me. And I bet if we found the right ones, they'd treat us like queens.”

“Yeah?” Laura said skeptically. “Well, I'm not willing to take the chance. By the way, how did your date turn out last night? Who was it this week? The accountant?”

“Jay. The engineer. It was okay,” Sam said with a shrug. “We went to a movie, stopped for a drink, had a few laughs. You know, the usual.”

“No. I don't know,” Laura replied.

“You could if you wanted to.”

“Maybe,” she said skeptically. “Anyway, that's not the point. I
don't
want to.”

“That's precisely the point. This may not be your scene,” Sam said, gesturing to the bar, “but there are other ways to meet men. I'm not saying you need to go out twice a week. But twice a month would be nice. Just for diversion. How about twice a year?” she teased her.

“I don't have time for diversions,” Laura replied matter-of-factly. “But I must admit I'm in awe of your technique. How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Find all these men you go out with.”

“I
look,
Laura. That's your problem, you know. You don't look. Even when there's a perfectly good specimen right under your nose, do you notice? No. Which reminds me…what about Nick?” she prodded.

“What about him?”

“Do you see him much?”

“When necessary.” And sometimes when not, she added silently, recalling the previous night's impromptu dinner and trip to Ted Drewes.

Sam gave a snort of disgust. “When necessary,” she mimicked. “Laura, for Pete's sake, you've got to let a man know you're interested or you'll never get anywhere!”

“I don't want to get anywhere,” she insisted firmly.

“Of course you do. You just don't know you do. So when did you see him last?”

“Sam.” There was a warning note in her voice.

“What? Is it a state secret? I only asked a simple question.”

“Okay, okay. Last night.”

“Last
night?
As in after work?”

“Yes,” Laura admitted. “The ground breaking for the Arts Center was yesterday, and I forgot my mirror there. You know, the one my grandmother gave me?” At Sam's impatient nod, Laura continued. “Well, anyway, he dropped it by the apartment after the party.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You mean he just handed you the mirror at the door and left?” Sam asked, disappointed.

“Well, not exactly. Neither of us ate at the party…and he…well, he smelled the spaghetti sauce and…I mean, he did go out of his way. I—I couldn't very well not ask him to stay,” Laura stammered.

“Are you telling me you invited him to dinner?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Laura admitted reluctantly. “But don't jump to any conclusions,” she warned quickly. “I felt like I owed him a favor. And besides, he practically invited himself.”

“You don't have to justify it to me,” Sam assured her. “I think it's great! So what happened then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Laura, it is like pulling teeth to get any information out of you,” Sam said in frustration. “I mean, you ate, you talked…then what?”

“We went to Ted Drewes for dessert,” Laura offered.

“Good. He extended the evening. Did you have a good time?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. Sam…” She took a deep breath. “I was really nervous,” she admitted, playing with her glass.

“That's okay,” Sam assured her. “It's perfectly natural. You haven't dated for a while.”

“Try fourteen years,” Laura said wryly.

“Well, there you go. You're just out of practice. Do you think he'll ask you out again?”

“What do you mean, ‘again'? He didn't ask me out this time.”

“Laura, you know what I mean.”

Laura shrugged. “I don't know. I think he had a good time,” she said cautiously.

“Is he attached?”

“I—I don't think so. Sam, he…he kissed me good-night,” she said, her cheeks turning pink.

“And you let him?” Sam asked incredulously. “Well, hallelujah!”

“But, Sam, I'm not ready for this yet!” Laura protested.

“Laura, you're past ready. You're ripe,” Sam said with her usual blunt, earthy honesty.

Laura smiled. Leave it to Sam to home right in on the problem. The woman across from her might be too outspoken for some, but she'd been a true friend and a real lifesaver to Laura during the rough times. Sam could always be counted on to remain steadfastly loyal and supportive.

“I'm not sure I'd go that far,” Laura replied with a smile.

“Well, I would. So tell me, what does he look like? I assume you've taken inventory by now.”

Laura flushed. “Sam, I'm not good at describing people.”

“Well, does he look like anyone here?” Sam persisted.

Laura let her gaze roam over the room, first through the restaurant and then through the adjoining bar. “No. I'm not good at seeing resemblances. I told you that… Oh, no!”

“Laura, what is it?” Sam asked, alarmed by her friend's sudden pallor.

“I don't believe this,” Laura muttered incredulously, sinking lower into the booth.

“What's wrong?” Sam asked again.

“It's him!”

“Him?”

“Yes. Him!”

“
Him
him?” Sam's head swiveled. “Where?”

“Sam! Will you please turn around,” she hissed. “Maybe he won't see us,” she said hopefully.

 

Nick leaned against the bar, swirling the ice in his drink, trying to figure a way to make his escape without looking rude. He fervently hoped that this was the last bachelor party he ever had to attend. They were so predictable and boring. He was tired of the singles scene, tired of going home alone every night, tired of wondering if he would ever find someone to spend his life with, as Jack had. He envied Jack and Peggy their satisfying existence. Sure, Jack complained good-naturedly about being nothing more than a Mr. Mom and a general handyman, but Nick knew he was deeply content. And that was the kind of life Nick wanted.

He let his eyes idly roam around the room, sipping his gin and tonic. His contacts were already drying out from the cigarette smoke that hung in the air, and he sighed wearily. At least there was a no-smoking area in the restaurant, he thought enviously, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. The faces were just a blur until his eye was caught by a redhead openly staring at him. She was attractive enough in a flamboyant sort of way, and he smiled lazily back. For a moment he thought she was alone, and then he realized there was another woman slumped in the booth beside her. Nick could only see the back of her head, but the unique strawberry blond hue caught his eye. Laura had hair that color, he thought. And then he frowned. Could it be her? he wondered. He tried to dismiss the possibility
as too much of a coincidence, but he had a gut feeling that it really was her. Should he check it out? And what if he was wrong? Well, what if he was? he asked himself impatiently. He had nothing to lose. He could just make some innocuous remark to the redhead and beat a hasty retreat. It was worth a try.

 

“Sam,” Laura hissed again, this time more urgently. “Will you please turn around? He's going to notice you if you keep staring.”

“Too late,” Sam replied. “He just smiled at me.”

Laura moaned. “Well, will you at least stop encouraging him?” she pleaded.

“You didn't tell me he was such a hunk,” her friend said accusingly, still looking over her shoulder. Suddenly she straightened up. “Hey! He's coming over!”

Laura gave her a panic-stricken look, and then searched wildly for an escape. But they were wedged in a corner booth, and the only way out would take her directly in Nick's path.

“Laura, chill out,” Sam advised, aware that her friend was panicking. “You spent hours with him alone last night. This is no big deal.”

“Maybe not to you,” Laura replied tersely, her heart banging painfully against her rib cage. What was she going to say to him? she wondered. Would he mention last night? Oh, why hadn't Sam picked some other place!

“Hello, Laura. I thought it was you.” Nick's deep, mellow voice intruded on her thoughts and she slowly raised her eyes. He smiled at her, looking utterly relaxed, dressed in a pair of khaki trousers and a striped cotton shirt. He held a drink in one hand and nonchalantly
leaned on the corner of their booth. He looked fantastic, as always, and Laura suddenly wished she'd dressed in something more flattering than twill slacks and an oversize cotton sweater.

“Hello, Nick.”

There was a moment's awkward pause while Nick waited for her to ask him to join them and Laura prayed he would go away.

Sam looked from one to the other, decided it was time to step in and salvage the situation and smiled brightly.

“I don't believe we've met. I'm Sam Reynolds,” she said, extending her hand.

Nick took it, looking at her quizzically. “Are you sure we haven't met? Your voice sounds familiar.”

“Not exactly,” Sam said with an impudent grin. “But we have spoken before.”

“We have?”

“Mmm-hmm. I've had a spare key to Laura's office ever since she locked herself out a couple of years ago, and I answered the phone the day you called looking for her.”

Nick had the grace to flush. “Then I think I owe you an apology. As I recall, my manners were somewhat lacking that day.”

“Well, I would hardly have described you as Mr. Congeniality,” Sam agreed. “But that's okay. I survived.”

“Well, maybe we can start over. After all, Laura gave me a second chance, and I was even more rotten to her,” he said with an engaging grin.

“I don't know…” Sam said, pretending to think it over. “What do you think, Laura?”

Laura couldn't think, period. “Sure. I guess so,” she mumbled.

“All right. If Laura says it's okay, then I guess it is. Would you like to join us?”

Laura gave her a venomous look, which Sam ignored.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Thanks.” Nick slid into the booth next to Laura, and she quickly tried to move over, only to find her progress blocked by Sam who had relinquished just a few measly inches of the seat. Nick didn't seem to mind the close proximity, but Laura was all too aware of his body whisper-close to hers.

“Help yourself to some potato skins,” Sam offered.

“No, thanks. I've been eating bar food all night.”

“I hope we're not taking you away from your friends,” Sam said.

“No. It's a bachelor party, and like they say, if you've seen one, you've seen them all. I was about to make my excuses, anyway.”

“Good. Then you can stay awhile. Isn't that great, Laura?”

Laura felt Sam's elbow in her ribs and realized that she hadn't taken any part in the conversation. “Oh. Yes, that's nice.”

Nick casually draped his arm across the back of the booth, and the tips of his fingers rested on Laura's shoulder. She tried to move slightly away, but Sam had her wedged in.

“Can I buy you ladies a drink?” Nick asked.

“Thanks. I'll have a tonic water,” Sam said.

“Laura?”

“Iced tea, please.”

Nick signaled to the waitress and relayed the orders before resuming the conversation.

“So what brings you two to this mecca for swinging singles?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Sam said pertly. “We're looking for men. Are you available?”

Laura looked horrified, but after a moment of stunned silence, Nick chuckled. “Your friend here doesn't pull any punches, does she?” he said to Laura with a smile.

“Sam's pretty direct,” Laura agreed. “But that's
not
why we're here. At least,
I'm
not. Sam picked this place.”

“And I'm glad she did,” Nick replied smoothly. “Otherwise there wouldn't have been anyone to rescue me from that bachelor party. And, Sam, to answer your question, yes, I am.” He turned to look at the bar for a moment. “Would you excuse me for a minute? I think the group is leaving and I need to give the groom my best wishes.”

“Sure,” Sam said. “We'll still be here.”

“Will you?” Nick asked quietly, directing his question to Laura. He was aware of her tension and he wouldn't put it past her to bolt the moment he was out of sight.