One Special Christmas & Home for the Holidays (36 page)

“No, Joe, don't! Please don't hurt me!” she cried.

Nick yanked his hand back at her impassioned plea, and his heart actually stopped, then lunged on, hammering painfully against his chest. She wasn't having a nightmare about tonight's attacker. She was having a nightmare about her husband! What had that bastard done to her? he wondered in sudden fury.

Laura's thrashing grew more intense, and Nick became alarmed, fearing that she would injure herself even further. He crouched beside the bed, reaching over to gently stroke her hair. “It's okay, sweetheart. It's okay,” he murmured soothingly, aware that her whole body was trembling.

Her eyes flickered open, and she stared at his shadowy figure dazedly. “Nick?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“It's me, honey,” he said huskily. “Everything's okay. You just had a bad dream, that's all. Try to relax and go back to sleep.”

“Could…could you stay with me for a little while?” she asked in a tremulous, little-girl voice that tore at his heart.

“Sure.” He took her hand, and she grasped it with a steel grip that surprised him. “I'll be right here.”

He continued to stroke her hair, murmuring soothing words, and slowly she relaxed. Her breathing grew more even and gradually her grip on his hand loosened as she slipped back into sleep.

When she seemed to be resting easily, Nick carefully extricated his hand and gingerly stood up, much to the relief of his protesting calf muscles. He frowned as he stared down at Laura, her face now at peace as she slumbered. He ought to go back to bed, he supposed. But he just couldn't leave her. Not yet, anyway. He wanted to be at her side if she awoke again in the grip of another nightmare.

Wearily he sank down in an overstuffed chair near the bed. It had been a very long day. And it looked like it was going to be a very long night.

Nick let his head drop onto the cushioned back and stared at the dark ceiling, torn by conflicting emotions that he didn't understand. He cared about Laura. Deeply. But what was he getting himself into? She was obviously troubled, clearly scarred emotionally, and he was no psychologist. He ought to get out of this relationship while he still could.

Only it was already too late, he acknowledged with a resigned sigh. He couldn't walk away, not now. Not after he'd seen the vulnerable look in her eyes tonight. And maybe not ever. But they couldn't go on as they had. He'd heard too much tonight, learned more from those few words spoken in sleep than he'd learned from all of their waking conversations. The time had come to demand some answers, to examine the reasons why she was so afraid of commitment. It wouldn't be easy
for her. But psychologist or not, he knew with absolute certainty that until they confronted the demons from her past, they had no future together.

 

Laura awoke slowly, disoriented and sluggish. It was a struggle just to open her eyes. She raised her arm and stared at her watch, squinting as she tried to make out the time, but for some reason she had trouble focusing.

One thing did come suddenly—and clearly—into focus, however: her attire. She was wearing a man's pajama top! And just where exactly was she anyway? she wondered in sudden panic, her gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar surroundings. It jolted abruptly to a stop on Nick's sleeping figure, slumped uncomfortably in a chair near the bed, his leg slung over one of the arms.

Suddenly memories of the night before came rushing back—the horror, certainly, but even more prominently the care and tenderness of the wonderful man just a touch away. In sleep, his face had an endearing, boyish quality that she'd never seen before. His hair might be tousled, and he might look rumpled and unshaven, but as far as she was concerned he was the handsomest, most appealing man she'd ever seen.

Of course, the bare chest might have something to do with that perception, she admitted, her eyes drawn to the T pattern of dark, curly hair that rose and fell in time with his even breathing. Her own breathing was suddenly none too steady, and she had a sudden, compelling urge to reach over and lay her hand close to his heart, feel the rise and fall of his broad chest beneath her fingers.

At just that moment, as if sensing her gaze, Nick
awoke—abruptly, immediately and fully. His gaze locked on hers, his stomach instinctively contracting at the purple, swollen eye and puffy nose, harshly spotlighted in the brightness of day. He rose stiffly from his uncomfortable position and then moved toward the bed in two long strides, squatting down beside her.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, his voice still husky from sleep. He reached over and stroked her hair, his eyes never leaving hers. “How do you feel?”

She frowned and gingerly touched her face, then her side, wincing at even the slightest pressure. “I'm a little sore,” she said breathlessly, her voice unsteady.

“I have a feeling that's the understatement of the year,” he replied with a frown, his lips compressing into a thin line.

“I'll be fine,” she assured him. “But…did you sleep in that chair all night?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“What was left of it,” he said with a wry grin.

“You must be exhausted! I'm so sorry to cause all this trouble,” she apologized, her eyes filling with tears.

Nick reached over as one spilled out to trickle down her cheek, wiping it away with a gentle finger, his throat constricting painfully. “Laura, you were no trouble. Trust me,” he said, his own voice uneven. She still looked unconvinced, and his instinct was to kiss away her doubts. But given her physical—and emotional—fragility at the moment, that was probably not wise. Mustering all of his self restraint, he tenderly touched her cheek and then stood up. “I'll run downstairs and get you a pill, okay?”

She nodded silently, still feeling off balance and uncharacteristically weepy.

His concerned eyes searched hers, and then he turned and rummaged in the closet for a shirt and slacks. “Just stay put till I get back,” he said over his shoulder, sliding the door shut and making a quick exit.

When he reached the loft, he rapidly pulled on the cotton slacks and thrust his arms into the hastily retrieved shirt, distractedly rolling the sleeves to the elbows. Based on her pallor and lines of strain in her face, Laura needed a painkiller quickly. He took the steps two at a time, and returned in record time with the pill and a glass of water.

Laura was up, gripping her side and leaning against the bedpost for support, when he entered the room. “I thought I told you to stay put,” he said with a frown.

“Nick, do you know what time it is?” she asked, panic edging her voice.

He glanced at his watch. “Nine o'clock.”

“I should have been at work an hour ago… Ken won't know what happened… He was supposed to pick me up at seven-thirty… My car's ready today,” she said disjointedly.

“Relax, honey,” he said, depositing the pill and water on the dresser and easing her back down to the bed. “I called Ken last night. Everything's under control. He'll fill in until you feel well enough to go back.”

“But I have so much to do. I can't take another day off. I can at least go to the office. That won't be too taxing, and—”

“Forget it, Laura,” he said flatly, cutting her off.

She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

He sighed, regretting the dictatorial approach. Maybe logic would work better. He sat down next to her and gently took her hand. “Look, Laura, you're in no shape
to get out of bed, let alone go to the office. Do you honestly feel up to doing anything today?”

She stared at him, savoring the warm clasp of his hand on one level, thinking about his question on another. The truth was, she didn't. But that had never stopped her before. She hadn't been able to let it. It hadn't mattered how she'd felt; the job had to be done. But then again, she'd never felt quite this bad. Her ribs ached, she could barely see out of her left eye and her nose was almost too tender to touch. Besides, every muscle in her body felt as if it had been pulled taut. But there was work to be done. “No, I don't,” she admitted. “But I can't afford to lose a day,” she said resolutely.

“For the sake of your health, you can't afford not to,” he told her bluntly.

She looked at him in exasperation. “Nick, you just don't understand. I'm it. Taylor Landscaping is a one-person show at the management level. You have someone to fall back on. I don't. I can't take a day off.”

Laura took a deep breath and stood, gripping the headboard to steady herself. Tears pricked her eyes and she forced them back, but she couldn't do anything about the trembling in her hands. And Nick wasn't blind.

He remained on the bed for a moment, looking up at her back, ramrod straight, and the defiant tilt of her head. She was probably going to hate him after this, he thought ruefully, but there was no way he was letting her set one foot outside this condo today. He wouldn't be surprised if her stubborn determination carried her through a day at the office. Laura wasn't a quitter, that was for sure. But by tonight she'd be a basket case. He
steeled himself for her anger and stood, moving to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Laura, I'm sorry. No way. I've already called Ken, who sounds very competent, and he's handling everything. You're not leaving here until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she stammered.

“Tomorrow,” he declared.

“Nick, you can't do this!”

“I can and I am. I'm bigger than you are. And you're in no shape to resist. I'll sit on you if I have to, but I hope it won't come to that.”

Nick saw the anger and defiance flash in her eyes and prepared to do battle. But then he watched in amazement as the flame of anger slowly flickered and went out. Her shoulders suddenly sagged and she carefully sat back on the bed, dropping her head to hide the tears that shimmered in her eyes. He squatted in front of her and took her hands in his, taken aback by her unexpected acquiescence. He'd expected a struggle; instead, she'd caved in. Had he pushed too hard, been too heavy-handed? He knew her emotions were tattered. “Laura, I'm sorry for being so obstinate about this,” he said gently. “But I'm doing it for you.”

“I know,” she said softly, struggling to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes, but the tenderness in his voice just made it more difficult. It had been so long since she'd felt this cared for, this protected, this cherished. Her heart overflowed with gratitude…and something else she refused to acknowledge. Instead, she met his eyes and tried to smile, but didn't quite succeed. “I'm very grateful. It's been a long time since…” Her voice trailed off and she looked down at the strong, competent hands that held hers so comfortingly.

Nick didn't move. He just stared at her bowed head, struggling to regain his own composure. It wasn't easy, not when his emotions were pulling at him like a rip-tide, threatening to sweep him off balance, a protective instinct emerging on the one hand, a purely sensual one on the other. The latter instinct urged him to take her in his arms, to kiss away her tears, to love her as she deserved to be loved. She seemed so desperately in need of loving.

“Laura,” he said at last, the unevenness of his voice making him stop and clear his throat before continuing. Her head remained bowed. “Laura,” he repeated, squeezing her hands, this time forcing her to meet his eyes, which held hers with a compelling intensity. “You are very special to me. Special, and precious. When I think about what could have happened last night…” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a steadying breath, struggling for composure before fixing his intense gaze on her once again. “You're not in great shape,” he said, reaching up to her eye with a whisper touch, “but you'll be okay. You'll be okay,” he repeated more forcefully, as much to convince himself as to reassure her, touching her as he spoke—her arm, her cheek, her hair. “And I don't want you to ever be alone and frightened again.”

She stared at him, swallowing with difficulty. “Is that why you slept in the chair last night?”

“Yeah. You had a nightmare,” he said quietly. “I wanted to be close in case it happened again.”

She studied his eyes—dark, intense and filled with integrity. He seemed too good to be real, and she reached over and tentatively touched the angled planes of his face. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and
she watched as the smoldering sparks of passion in his eyes burst into flame. Alarmed, she tried to draw her hand away, not wanting to create false expectations. But he held her fast, his fingers tightening on her wrist.

“Laura?” his voice was gentle, his eyes probing. “What is it?”

“I—I'd really like it if you would just hold me,” she said, so quietly he had to lean close to hear. “But that's not fair to you. I can see that…I mean, you want more and right now…I can't promise that.”

He placed his fingers against her lips, and her eyes searched his. “Sweetheart, if being held is what you need now, that's what I'll give. Okay?”

Her head nodded jerkily, and he eased her back on the bed, then stretched out beside her, carefully gathering her soft, bruised body into his arms. It was some minutes before he felt her tension ease, and then he brushed his cheek against her hair. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes. But, Nick…I know this isn't enough for you.”

“It's enough,” he assured her. But then he added a qualification. “For now.”

T
he persistent ringing of the phone slowly penetrated Laura's consciousness. Tenderly cradled in Nick's arms, feeling utterly safe and content, she had drifted off to sleep. When the ringing of the bedside phone continued, she opened her eyes and glanced up questioningly. “Nick?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“The phone's ringing.”

“I know.”

“Aren't you going to answer it?”

“I don't think so.”

“But it might be something important.”

“It's probably just the office.”

The ringing stopped, and Laura's eyes grew wide. “The office! What are you doing home? Shouldn't you have been at work hours ago?”

“Normally, yes,” he replied mildly.

“So?”

“The past eighteen hours haven't exactly been normal,” he reminded her wryly.

“No, I suppose not,” she conceded. “But I'll be okay here. You don't have to baby-sit.”

“Work can wait,” he insisted.

Suddenly the phone rang again, and Nick glanced at it in irritation. But Laura also saw the concern in his eyes, and she nudged him with her shoulder. “Go ahead. This will drive you crazy.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess so.” He reached over to pick up the receiver. “Jack? I told you this morning, we'll have to postpone it. I'm not leaving Laura today.” Silence, while he absently continued to stroke her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but you don't need me for the presentation.” Silence again. “Look, just cover for me. Tell him…I don't know, tell him anything.”

Laura frowned. Nick obviously had a commitment, apparently an important one. The thought that he was willing to forgo it on her behalf filled her with a warm glow, but at the same time, she'd struggled long enough herself to know that it was never wise to upset a client.

“Nick,” she whispered.

He glanced down. “Jack, hang on a second.” Depressing the mute button, he reached down to stroke her cheek, his brusque, businesslike tone of moments before suddenly gentled. “What is it, honey?”

“Go to your meeting. It sounds important.”

“You're more important,” he insisted.

She smiled her thanks, but shook her head. “I'll feel guilty if you don't go. There's no sense in both of us falling behind, and I'll be fine.” She could see the flicker of indecision in his eyes, and with a determined smile she gently eased herself away from the warmth of his body and swung her feet to the floor, trying not
to wince at the sudden pain in her side. Carefully she stood, and by the time she turned back to him her features were placid. “Come on, you'll be late,” she urged lightly.

Nick hesitated a fraction of a second longer and then released the mute button, glancing at his watch. “Okay, Jack, I'll be there. But not until one-thirty. That will give us time to look over the presentation and make sure we're in sync before Andrews arrives… Yeah, I know.”

Nick replaced the receiver and stood, facing Laura across the bed. “I hate to leave you,” he said with simple honesty.

“I'll be fine,” she assured him again. “And you'll be back.”

“You can count on that. And as soon as possible,” he said huskily. Laura felt the warmth creep up her cheeks at his tone and glanced down, tugging self-consciously at the brief hem of the pajama top she wore. Nick cleared his throat. “Do you need anything from your apartment? I could stop by on the way back.”

“Other than my toothbrush, I think I'm okay for another day. Except…do you have an old shirt or something with buttons I could borrow? I'd rather not put that thing on again,” she said, gesturing distastefully toward the discarded surgical top.

“I'm sure I can find something. And I may even have a spare toothbrush.” He returned triumphantly a few moments later with the latter item, still cellophane enclosed, and quickly riffled through his closet. “Will this work?” he asked, withdrawing a striped cotton shirt.

“Perfect. I'll just roll up the sleeves and it will be fine.”

“Can you get dressed on your own?”

“I think so. But I'd like to take a shower first.”

Nick nodded. “I'll put some fresh towels out for you and come back in a few minutes.”

It took Laura a lot longer to shower than she expected. First, a glance in the mirror over the sink made her stop in midstride, alarmed at the extent of the damage. She looked terrible. Her nose wasn't too bad—just slightly puffy—but the purple-and-red eye, still half-swollen shut, made up for it. She wished she had some makeup, but she doubted whether anything would be able to disguise the discolored area. She'd barely come to grips with the appearance of her battered face when she'd been shocked by the huge, ugly blue-black swath of skin splayed over her ribs. It had made her momentarily queasy, and she'd forced herself to take a few deep breaths, telling herself that she was okay, that the bruise would eventually fade. But no wonder she hurt so much!

Carefully she stepped into the shower, adjusting the water temperature before turning on the spray. The sudden force of water against her ribs, however, made her gasp in pain, and she quickly angled away from the spray, shielding her side. Nick had been right about her going to work today, she admitted. She was in no shape to sit at a desk, let alone visit the job sites. Just the exertion of taking a shower had drained her. But the warm spray felt good, and she let it massage her body with its soothing caress.

At last, Laura reluctantly turned off the water and toweled herself dry, carefully avoiding the injured areas.
She dressed slowly, easing the jeans over her legs, grimacing as she bent to pull them up. The voluminous shirt was easier, and as she slipped her arms into the sleeves she caught the unique scent that she had come to associate with Nick—warm, vibrant, slightly spicy…and very masculine. For a moment she buried her face in its folds, wistfully inhaling the essence. Then with a sigh she slipped it over her head.

Laura pulled a comb from her purse and carefully worked the tangles out of her wet, tousled hair. By the time she finished it was almost dry, hanging loose and long, with a few stray tendrils curling around her face.

“Laura, are you okay?” Nick's soft knock and worried voice came through the door.

“I'm fine. I'll be right out,” she called. After neatly folding the wet towels and placing them on the edge of the tub, she picked up her purse and opened the door.

Nick's perceptive eyes swept over her. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. The shower helped.”

He grinned and folded his arms, tilting his head as he looked at her. “You know, that shirt looks a whole lot better on you than it ever did on me,” he said.

“It's a little big,” she said, a smile hovering around the corners of her mouth.

“Big is in. It's a very attractive look.”

Laura shrugged. “I don't feel very attractive,” she admitted.

If any other woman had said that to him, Nick would have assumed she was angling for a compliment. With Laura, the remark had been artless and without pretense. He moved toward her and placed his hands on
her shoulders. “Sweetheart, you are the most irresistible woman I've ever known,” he said huskily. And then he lightened his tone. “Even with that shiner.”

Laura looked up at him in surprise, suddenly realizing that he'd been using terms of endearment ever since last night. They seemed to come so naturally to him, and had sounded so natural to her, that it had taken all this time for the fact to register. Before she could evaluate its significance, however, he was leading her out the door.

“I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook, but you can't afford to skip any more meals and I didn't want you to have to fix anything yourself,” he said over his shoulder. “I hope this is at least palatable.”

He stepped aside when they reached the loft, where a tray rested on the coffee table in front of the now-made-up sofa sleeper. Laura's eyes grew wide. It wasn't so much the contents—scrambled eggs, toast, an orange that had been carefully peeled and separated into chunks, a steaming cup of coffee—but the thoughtfulness of the gesture that stirred her heart. Her throat constricted with emotion, and when she turned to Nick the warmth in her unguarded eyes made him catch his breath. “Nick, I… After all you've already done, this makes me feel so…” She gestured helplessly.

He grinned, inordinately pleased by her response, and took her hand, steering her toward the sofa. “Don't say anything else until you've tasted it,” he warned teasingly. He settled her comfortably and then glanced at his watch. “Do you mind if I get dressed while you eat?”

“No, of course not.”

By the time she'd finished the last bite of what she
would always remember as one of the best meals of her life, Nick reappeared, dressed in a lightweight charcoal gray suit, crisp white shirt and paisley tie. He smiled when he saw the empty plate. “Well, I guess it wasn't too bad. Or else you were starved.” When she started to speak, he held up his hand. “No, don't tell me which. I prefer to keep my illusions.”

Laura smiled. “Thank you,” she said simply.

His expression grew suddenly serious and he sat down beside her, grasping her hand as he studied her eyes. “Laura, are you sure you'll be all right? I can still stay if you want me to.”

“I'll be fine,” she assured him again. “I took the pill you left on the tray, and I already feel very relaxed and sleepy. I'm just going to nap this afternoon, and it makes no sense for you to sit around and miss an important appointment while I sleep.”

Nick bowed to the logic of her argument. “Okay. But I'll be back early—no later than five. Do you like Chinese food?”

“Love it.”

“I'll pick some up on the way home.” He stood, taking the tray with him.

“Oh, Nick, let me take care of that,” she protested.

“No way. You're not to lift a finger today. Promise me that, or I'm not leaving.”

She shook her head. “You really do have a one-track mind.”

“Promise?” he persisted.

“Promise,” she agreed.

Laura's day went almost exactly as predicted. She took a few minutes to explore Nick's condo, admiring his spare but tasteful and obviously expensive
furnishings. The cathedral-ceilinged living room, overlooked by the loft, featured a two-story wall of glass that offered a restful view of the wooded common ground. She peeked into his office, impressed by its neatness, and through the window she glimpsed what looked like a clubhouse and swimming pool. Compared to this, her apartment really was the pits, she thought. No wonder he had remarked on the neighborhood a few weeks ago. And rightly so, she thought wryly, wincing at the twinge in her side as she turned.

After a quick call to Sam, who was shocked by the mugging but clearly pleased by Nick's attentiveness and concern, Laura took another pill and lay down. Within minutes she was asleep.

The sound of Nick's voice calling from downstairs awakened her later in the afternoon, and by the time she had oriented herself and was struggling to sit up, he appeared in the doorway, his jacket already discarded, his face a mask of concern. He moved beside her immediately, his intense, dark eyes critically examining her. For a moment he hesitated, and then he reached over and touched his lips to her forehead. “I'd like to give you a better hello, but that's about the only spot I know of that isn't bruised,” he said huskily, brushing her hair back from her face as he spoke.

Laura smiled hesitantly. “My lips are okay,” she said softly.

Nick's momentary surprise was quickly followed by a pleased chuckle, and the deep, throaty sound of it sent a hot wave of desire crashing over her. “Are you saying you'd like to be kissed?” he asked with a smile.

She swallowed. “Only if it's what you want.”

“Oh, I want,” he said huskily, and the ardent light in
his eyes left little doubt about his wants. “I just don't want to hurt you.”

Laura's mouth went dry. Already her lips were throbbing in anticipation of his touch. “We'll be careful,” she whispered.

Nick gave up the fight. He'd told himself she was in no shape, physically or emotionally, for intimacy right now. He'd told himself that he would keep his hands off until she was stronger. He'd told himself that she wasn't herself, that the trauma of the previous night could make her needy in ways she would later regret. But he was only human, after all. And the tender, welcoming look in her eyes was too much for him. With a soft groan he lowered his lips to hers, gently nipping at their pliant fullness, until her mouth stirred sweetly beneath his. He felt her shudder as he tasted the warm sweetness of her mouth, and her response nearly undid him. Gently he lowered her to the bed and stretched out beside her, cradling her head in his hands, his fingers lost in the thick fullness of her hair. How he'd waited for this moment, to have her close to him. His lips left hers, moving down to her neck, and she arched her throat for his touch, breathing heavily. Her arms clung to him, urging him closer. Nick let one hand travel downward until it rested lightly at her waist. Laura was so lost in the magic of his touch that it took her a moment to realize that his hand was gently but firmly tugging her shirt free.

Laura knew where this was leading, knew she was breaking every rule she'd ever made about allowing any man to get close to her again, knew that it went against everything she believed about casual intimacy. And yet she seemed powerless to stop what was happening.
When Nick had appeared in the doorway tonight she'd had no plan to initiate this embrace. But he'd looked so wonderful standing there, so dear and so handsome and so very special. And she was very grateful for all he'd done for her. Yet she was honest enough to admit that gratitude wasn't the only explanation for her behavior. Last night had been like déjà vu, a bad dream come again to life, awakening old memories and old pain. Today she felt vulnerable, needy, scared—aching physically and emotionally. Nick, with his gentle touch and caring concern, could make her fears and pain disappear, at least for a little while. Her Christian faith put strict limits on intimacy outside of marriage, and she knew she was pushing those limits. Tomorrow she'd probably be sorry. But for now, she needed to be held, to be cared for and protected, to bask in the warmth of his caresses.