The knock sounded once more, and this time it was accompanied by a familiar masculine voice.
“Phila. It's Nick. Open the door.”
Relief poured through Phila. She dropped the gun back into the drawer and whipped around. She took a few deep breaths on the way to the front door. Her pulse was almost back to normal by the time she opened it.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, opening the door and peering up at Nick. He looked larger than ever standing there in the shadows.
“Mind if I come in?” he asked impatiently. It wasn't a request. He was already halfway through the door.
“You can come in, but what do you want?” She stepped back and flipped on the light switch. “For heaven's sake, Nick, it's nearly one o'clock in the morning.”
“I know what time it is. I've got a two-thousand-dollar watch that tells the time with absolute accuracy.” He strode past her, crossing the comfortably shabby living room with its sagging furniture and bare board floors. He went straight into the kitchen and began opening and closing cupboard doors in a methodical fashion.
“Is that right? Who gave you the watch?”
“My father. He gave it to me the day I took over the reins for Castleton & Lightfoot. I thought for sure he'd ask for it back along with my sword and brass buttons the day I walked out, but he didn't. Probably forgot about it.”
Phila hurried after him. “Nick, what is going on here?”
“Questions. All I get are questions. Haven't you got anything to drink?”
“You mean something strong like scotch or bourbon? No. I just got into town this morning, remember? I picked up enough groceries for breakfast, and that's all. Nick, what are you doing here at this time of night?”
He turned around and leaned back against the chipped tile counter top, his arms folded across his chest. “I'm looking for a place to spend the night.”
That stopped her for a few short seconds. “I thought you were going to spend the night up at Tara West.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Let's just say that I had an unpleasant father-son chat with Reed Lightfoot, and by the time it was over I felt I'd worn out my welcome.”
“Already?”
“I can do it really fast when I put my mind to it. Are you sure you don't have anything to drink?”
Phila sighed. “Warm milk.”
“What?” He looked startled.
“You heard me. I can heat some milk for you.”
“That sounds disgusting.”
“Well, there's tea.”
“I don't drink tea.”
Phila started to lose her temper. “I'm sorry, sir, but that's all I've got in the place. If I'd known you were going to be dropping by in the middle of the night I'd have picked up some brandy to sedate you, sir.”
“I've already had enough brandy. That's what I was drinking with Dad when I decided I was going to have to spend the night somewhere else.”
“What brought you to that conclusion?”
“We got into an argument. It was a totally predictable scene, and I'll give us both credit for trying to avoid it. We both started out with good intentions. To be perfectly honest, I broke first.”
“What did you argue about?” Phila asked cautiously.
“A number of things.”
“Hilary, for instance?”
Nick's eyes narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses. “Now, what makes you say that?”
Phila folded her arms under her breasts, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her robe. She noticed her feet were getting cold. “I know she's your ex-wife, Nick.”
“You pick up information fast, don't you?”
“That's what I'm here for, remember? To find out things.”
“Who told you about Hilary and me?”
“Vicky.”
“Yeah, that figures.” Nick nodded as if confirming something to himself. “I didn't think it was Eleanor. Eleanor's committed to keeping family secrets locked in the closet where they belong.”
“You must feel the same way, or you would have told me about Hilary being your ex-wife.”
That seemed to surprise him. “Why would I have told you about her? She's not important one way or the other.”
“Women look at these things a little differently.”
“Only a woman who was seriously thinking of getting involved with me would look at it differently. Are you thinking about getting involved with me, Phila?”
She flushed but refused to be drawn. “It must be a little awkward for you,” she offered hesitantly. “I mean Hilary being your ex-wife and all.”
“Yeah, sure. Awkward. Just to set the record straight, Dad and I did touch briefly on the subject of Hilary this evening, but our chief argument concerning her had nothing to do with any father-son rivalry. Dad's welcome to her, although from what I can gather his bed's as cold as mine used to be when she was married to me.”
“She's a beautiful woman.”
“That's something you tend to notice right off, isn't it? Coldest bitch this side of the Arctic Circle, though. But what the hell. Maybe that was as much my fault as hers. God knows I'm no Casanova.”
“Nick…”
“Maybe you've got something to drink in the refrigerator.” He opened the door and stood scanning the empty shelves. His face looked harsh in the glare of the appliance light. After a moment he swore softly in resignation and gave up the search. He reluctantly slammed the door.
“I told you there was nothing to drink except milk. How did you meet her?”
“Who? Hilary?” Nick went back to leaning against the counter. “Eleanor introduced us. Hilary's the daughter of some old friends of Eleanor's family. They all go way back together.”
“The original boat people, hmmm? An awful lot of upper-class East Coast folks seem to think they came over on the Mayflower. Must have been a crowded ship.” So that's what it was, Phila thought. Hilary had been another of Eleanor's handpicked brides.
“Skip the lecture on inbreeding among the upper classes, will you? I'm not in the mood for it tonight.”
“The bit about Hilary marrying your father after being married to you does sound a bit incestuous.”
“Well it's not, so don't try to make it sound that way.”
“I've heard that in some old, established East Coast families it's almost traditional to pass girlfriends around from brother to brother or father to son,” Phila asked.
“Jesus, Phila.”
“It's true. I've read about it.”
“If the girlfriend happens to be a movie star and the family is tilted to the extreme left, I suppose it's a possibility,” Nick growled. “Trust me, Phila, no one in my family holds liberal views.”
“Was Hilary the only thing you and Reed argued about?”
“We talked about a few other things,” Nick answered casually.
“Such as?”
“Your shares in Castleton & Lightfoot.”
“Hah! I knew it. I just knew it.”
“What did you expect us to talk about? Your shares are the reason I've returned to the bosom of my family, remember?”
“It's not a joke, Nick.”
“Who's laughing?”
Phila studied him intently. “Your father wanted to know if you would be able to get your hands on my shares, I suppose?”
“Yeah. That's what he wanted to know, all right.”
She lifted her chin. “Well? What did you tell him?”
Nick shrugged. His eyes met hers in a level look. “I told him I'd get the shares back.”
Phila's feet felt colder than ever. “Yes, of course you did,” she whispered, almost to herself. She went back out into the living room, heading for the bedroom. Nick followed.
“Phila?”
“Yes?”
“About the little matter of where I'm going to spend the night.” His voice was rough around the edges, but otherwise as calm as ever.
“Use you
r Lightfoot pull to get yourself a motel room in town.”
“I'd rather stay here.”
She spun around to confront him and discovered he was practically on top of her. Instinctively she backed up. She wondered how he'd gotten so close without her realizing it. “Why do you want to stay here?”
He reached out and gently caught hold of the lapels of her robe, drawing her close. “You know the answer to that.”
Phila tried to tamp down the energy that was beginning to sizzle through her. “Going to bed with you would be a very stupid thing for me to do.”
“You think I'm one of the enemy.”
“Aren't you?”
“No, Phila. I'm not.”
“You want my shares.”
“That's a side issue. The shares belong in the family, and sooner or later I'll get them back. But the fact has got nothing to do with you and me. It doesn't make me your enemy.”
“How can you say that?” She searched his face. “Damn it, Nick, how can you say that?”
“It's easy because it's the truth. I can say it loud or soft or anywhere in between.” His thumb moved along the angle of her jaw. “Take your pick.”
“I could never really trust you,” she pointed out, feeling desperate. A heady sense of awareness, a feeling of being gloriously, recklessly alive was kicking in for the first time in months.
“Yes you can. You can trust me, Phila.” His thumb moved across her lower lip, tugging it gently away from her teeth.
Phila shivered. “If push comes to shove, you'll side with your family.”
“Will I?”
“You've already admitted as much.”
“I've said I'll get back the shares. That's the only thing I've admitted. Don't read any more into it than that. What goes on between you and me has nothing to do with the families or those damn shares.”
She thought he was going to kiss her, but he did not. He just stood there, holding her lightly by the lapels, and waited.
She fought herself for a long moment, holding herself stiff and proud, trying to step back from the brink.
“Will you kiss me?” Nick asked softly. “I've been going out of my head wondering what it would be like.”
So had she. Phila finally admitted it to herself, moaned softly and surrendered to the unfamiliar driving force of passion.
She gripped his shoulders fiercely as the excitement raced through her. No man had ever sent her senses reeling this way, and she was frankly fascinated with her own responses.
Crissie had laughed at her in the past, telling Phila that her disappointment in sex was directly attributable to the fact that she'd never met the right mate. Crissie had encouraged greater experimentation, but Phila had shied away from that approach. It wasn't just her inbuilt sense of discretion that kept her from it. There was an old fear to contend with, a fear that made sex seem less that attractive. Because of what had happened to her, the thought of a man climbing on top of her was enough to awaken a primitive panic.
But tonight her sense of caution was a dim and distant voice. She ignored it in favor of the heat that was waiting for her in Nick's arms. Impulsively she brushed her mouth quickly, awkwardly against his, tasting brandy and desire.
“Yeah, that's it. That's what I want—” Nick's voice was growing thick. His hands framed her face. “Come on. Eat me up. A hundred miles an hour.”
A firestorm was building inside Phila. She was shaking with need, longing to know more about the tantalizing feelings flowing through her. She grabbed Nick's head in both hands and held him still so that she could plunge her tongue between his teeth.
Her fingers twisted in his hair, and her nose bumped against his glasses. When her teeth grated against his, Nick chuckled softly.
“It's okay, honey. I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm all yours.” Nick caught her around the waist and lifted her high against him. “Why don't you try wrapping your legs around me,” he suggested softly.
“Nick, wait. I…we shouldn't…”
“It's okay,” he soothed gently. “Nothing to worry about. I'm healthy as a horse. Want to see my blood donor card?”
She shook her head frantically. “I'm healthy, too. That's not what I meant.” But she could no longer think clearly.
“Put your legs around me,” he urged again, his eyes brilliant with desire. “Do it, Phila.”
She did so instantly, hugging his hips with her thighs as if he were a stallion she intended to ride. Her arms locked around his neck, and her mouth fastened onto his again. Teeth clinked once more. His glasses were in the way, she thought.
Nick carried her down the short hall to the darkened bedroom and fell with her onto the bed. He rolled onto his back, one leg drawn up. His eyes gleamed in the shadows.
“Nick?”
“I'm here.”
Dazed and hungry, filled with emotions that left her shaking, Phila needed no further encouragement. She knelt beside him, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. She was in such a hurry now that when one button got stuck she yanked at it. There was a soft plink as it flew across the room and bounced off the window. She looked up. There was just enough light to see the grin on Nick's face.
“So help me, if you're laughing at me, you son of a…”
He stopped the words with two fingers across her lips. “I'm not laughing. I want this more than you do.”
Phila decided to take him at his word because in that moment she wanted desperately to believe him. She went back to work on his clothing, stripping the shirt from him with impatient, wrenching movements. Then she groped for the buckle of his belt.
Nick sucked in his breath as she unzipped his jeans. His manhood sprang free. He groaned heavily when she captured him in her hands.
For a short while Phila contented herself with exploring him intimately. She was enthralled with the fullness of him, captivated by the hard tension in his thighs. She laced her fingertips in the crisp curling hair of his groin and stroked the unbelievably hard length of his shaft.
“You're magnificent,” she whispered, awed.
“Oh, Jesus,” Nick's finger twisted in her hair.
The fire in her was very close to the surface now. She wanted to know what it would be like to quench it. Eagerly she pulled the last of Nick's clothing from his body. When he was lying naked on the bed, Phila knelt between his legs, drinking in the sight of him. He was a beautiful beast in the shadows.
“What about you?” he urged softly, toying with the hem of her robe.
“Oh, yes. Right.” Phila stripped off her robe and night-gown, almost unaware of what she was doing. She was too excited to think clearly. Nick was a treasure she had discovered and unearthed all by herself. He was hers to do with as she pleased, and she was so excited by the prospect that she could not decide what to do first. Her hands slid over him in soft wonder.
“You look like a kid in a candy factory,” Nick observed, his smile wicked and warm.
She heard the laughter in his voice but she no longer cared if he was amused. She could concentrate only on her own chaotic emotions. There was a liquid warmth between her thighs, an aching need that she knew Nick could satisfy.
“What are you waiting for?” Nick asked with a soft chuckle.
What was she waiting for? He was just lying there. He was not trying to climb all over her. He was not going to crush her beneath his heavy body. Phila hesitated briefly as the old memories and the primal fear they always brought with them surfaced. But an instant later the secret dread dissolved. He was offering himself for her pleasure, not forcing himself on her.
She moved upward, straddling him. With eager fingers, she guided him toward the center of her pulsating desire. Quickly she lowered herself, trying to impale herself on him.
“You're tight. Small and tight.” His fingers slid up along her thighs to where she was fumbling with his manhood. He parted her softness gently. “You're hot but not quite ready for me. Give it awhile. There's no rush.”
But she was in a
rush. Phila had never felt like this, and she was very much afraid that if she did not take advantage of the sensations immediately she would never experience them again. It was imperative to hurry. Frantically she pushed herself downward.
“Not so fast. Take it easy,” Nick murmured.
She paid no attention, forcing him into her snug sheath. It felt good, but it was not very comfortable. In fact it was almost painful. Phila gasped as her softness suddenly felt stretched beyond its limits. She eased herself carefully back up the length of him.
“I told you to slow down.” Nick's voice sounded half-strangled.
But Phila wasn't listening. She began to glide up and down more quickly as her body adjusted rapidly to his. He was big, but she wanted him and she was determined to have all of him.
He still felt huge inside her, but the sensation was quickly becoming pleasurable again. She splayed her fingers across his chest, clinging to him, lost in the wonder of it all. She increased the tempo of her rising and falling movements, her knees pressing tightly against his hips.
“Nick.”
“Yes. Oh, God, yes,” Nick muttered as she moved faster and faster on him. “I shouldn't let you run wild like this. Not yet. You're going too fast. A hundred miles an hour. But it feels so good. So good.”
And then he went taut beneath Phila, shouting hoarsely, shuddering heavily as he exploded deep within her.
CHAPTER SIX
“Nick is sleeping with her.” Victoria stabbed her grapefruit with her spoon.
Darren glanced up from the head of the table, frowning. “How do you know that? Nick was supposed to spend the night over at the Lightfoot cottage. Hilary told me she'd had her housekeeper prepare his old room.”
“Well, I guess Hilary lied,” Victoria said, taking some small pleasure from making the comment sound terribly casual.
“Vicky, really, dear. That's no way to talk.” Eleanor, seated at the other end of the gleaming fruitwood dining table, glanced first at her daughter-in-law and then at her son. “Hilary certainly did not lie. Why on earth would she do a thing like that? I know Nick was expected to sleep at the Lightfoot cottage last night.”