Page 16 of Like a Hurricane


  Because so much about him had been so right.

  Footsteps on the outside stairs pulled her out of her reverie. Now what did Aunt Freddie concoct to get the Lady in Blue out of the blues?

  As Freddie’s face came around the corner, Nicole couldn’t help but notice her ear-to-ear grin.

  “What is it?”

  She practically giggled. “Good heavens, what do they feed the men up there?”

  “What? Up where?”

  Freddie’s eyes grew wide as she whispered, “Wherever they grow McGraths.”

  A tingle darted down Nicole’s spine. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your roofing crew is here,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “On their way to the airport. They want to talk to you.”

  For one insane minute, Nicole thought Mac might be there. But, of course, he wasn’t. Still, it was just as much a surprise to see Cameron and Colin McGrath fill Aunt Freddie’s entryway, bronzed and relaxed from their days in the sun.

  “We wanted to say goodbye,” Cameron said, looking at her with piercing navy blue eyes. The sun had left golden tips in his hair, creating the look of a surfing God complete with a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. “We’re finished.”

  With the roof? “Oh! That wasn’t necessary. You know I can pay to have it done.” She shook her head. “What am I thinking? I can pay you. Please, let—”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Colin interrupted her. “It was a vacation for us.”

  She wanted to smile. His voice was so like Quinn’s, rich and sweet and low. And he looked like Quinn, except for the earring and the ponytail. “That’s kind of you, Colin, but—”

  “Seriously, I really enjoyed it. Let me know if you need an architect for the restoration. I love that building. I had lots of ideas how you could fix it and still retain the original essence.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know.” She knew she’d never call Quinn’s brother for the job, but she smiled at him, liking him for his zeal.

  Cameron stuck his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight. “We’re on our way out of here, Nicole. And we just thought we’d say…well, we just wanted to check on you.”

  She looked at him questioningly. “Check on me? Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Colin peered hard at her, and Nicole was suddenly aware of her disheveled appearance and red-rimmed eyes. “We wanted to see if you were in as bad shape as Quinn,” he said. “Looks like you are.”

  “Colin.” Cameron shot him a deadly look.

  “Well, look at her,” Colin said defensively. “She’s no happier than he was when he left last night.”

  The tingle that had danced down her spine wrapped itself around her heart. “Really?” she asked. At their confirming looks, she shrugged. “Then he shouldn’t have left.”

  “He did what he had to do,” Cameron said. “Quinn always does the right thing.”

  Nicole let out a disbelieving choke. “Is that so?”

  “Absolutely,” Colin said, his tone implying shock that she would even doubt it. “I may be the straightforward one, but, Quinn, he’s the responsible one. A little impetuous sometimes, but responsible.”

  She smiled, not telling them she already knew Colin was wild, and Cameron tough. “Impetuous and responsible? That’s an unusual combination.” She looked at both of them, a wellspring of goodwill in her heart. “It was really sweet of you to come down here and work so hard. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

  “Well, how could we not?” Colin said. “When Quinn called last week and said he was—”

  Cameron’s hand shot out to his brother’s arm. “Cool it.”

  “He was what?” Nicole asked.

  Colin looked at his brother. “She should know.”

  “Let him tell her.”

  “Tell me what?” Nicole insisted in a frustrated voice.

  Colin toyed with the gold ring in his right ear, regarding her with a devilish smile. “You’ll figure it out.”

  Keeping her voice as steady as possible, she looked hard at Colin. “Can I ask you a question and get an honest answer?”

  “We really have to go,” Cameron said.

  “I’m nothing if not honest,” Colin said with a deadly grin.

  Honest and wild. Another unique combination. She decided to trust him.

  “Quinn told me something and it’s sort of…well, I’m wondering about it.”

  Cameron shifted uncomfortably again, but Colin held her gaze.

  “He said…I was the one. Do you have any idea what he meant?”

  Colin glanced at Cameron, then back at her. “Yes.”

  “What?”

  He took a breath, but didn’t say anything. Cameron stepped closer to her and put a strong hand on her shoulder. “In our family, ‘the one’ is your soul mate. Your destiny.”

  Nicole felt the ground sway underneath her unstable legs.

  “Our Irish grandmother believes in it,” Colin added. “She believes there’s only one for each of us. When we find her, we’ll know it.”

  Nicole swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. “Well, if you found her and…left her…what does that mean?”

  “You’d never leave the one,” Colin said in a somber tone.

  The two men shared a look of silent communication before Cameron’s arm encircled her shoulders with a squeeze. “I’m really glad we got to meet you,” he said.

  “And see your ad campaign before it came down,” Colin added.

  “I haven’t taken—” Nicole stopped. It didn’t matter. She was going to call on Monday and have it taken down, anyway. Sally’s uncle must have decided to start the mattress sale early.

  “Brilliant campaign, by the way,” Colin said with an evil smile. “It was truly inspired.”

  Nicole coughed back a response. “You have no idea.”

  Then she gave them each a kiss on the cheek and watched them drive away. They had a lot in common, the McGrath boys. Handsome, funny, appealing…and gone.

  Back to wherever they grow McGraths.

  She closed the front door and leaned her head against it, still hearing Colin’s voice. You’d never leave the one.

  So, that could only mean one thing. She wasn’t the one.

  Once Quinn McGrath made a decision and set a course, absolutely nothing got in his way. His weekend in New York had been no exception. From the minute he landed at Newark and called his brothers at Mar Brisas, he acted with purposeful speed and determination.

  He laughed a little when he remembered the conversation, and Cameron’s reservations. But Colin had hammered Cam into submission and even suggested where they might find the materials for the project Quinn had described. The second order of business was as easy as walking into Dan Jorgensen’s office and saying two simple words. I quit.

  The look on Jorgensen’s face was worth the trip to New York. But the relief in his heart had been the best part. He’d known for a while that this was where he was heading. It just took something—someone—to shake him into action.

  Maybe the change happened when he saw Nicole’s expression of dismay when she listened to his phone conversation. Maybe it was when he hammered roof tiles and tar paper and remembered how much he loved the work. Hell, maybe it happened when he stepped into the elevator and took a trip to heaven.

  It didn’t matter when it happened. Quinn was a changed man. Not enough to forego his last baseball game, however.

  He’d spent Saturday afternoon playing a mean game at shortstop, going three for three and making the final out with true finesse. Saturday night he called Gram, then packed.

  By Sunday afternoon, he was driving his convertible down Route One. From the center lane, he could see the billboard perfectly. He couldn’t help but smile, remembering the first message he’d read on it. The Lady in Blue. Fifteen minutes later, he strolled into Mar Brisas with all the confidence of a man who acted on instinct that was rarely wrong.

  “Is Nicole here?” he aske
d the perky redhead, Sally.

  Her jaw dropped at the sight of him. “She’s staying at her aunt’s house. I don’t think she’ll be here until tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow? He couldn’t possibly wait that long. His plan was in place. His gut was on fire. “Can you give me the address?”

  Sally hesitated. “Well, I did tell your brothers.”

  “My brothers?” Quinn frowned at her. “Why did my brothers need to know?”

  “They wanted to talk to her.”

  He nearly shuddered at the thought of Colin’s world-famous candor. Hopefully, Cam kept him in line. Sally scratched an address on paper and handed it to him.

  “Thanks. And, by the way, have you rented out 1601 yet?”

  “Goodness, yes. It was booked immediately.”

  “How about 1801?”

  “That’s Nicole’s villa,” Sally said. “I don’t think she wants that rented, but if we have a paying guest, we might.”

  “Great. I’ll take it. Put me in for an indefinite time.”

  Sally pursed her lips. “What about Nicole?”

  “I’ll take care of Nicole.” At her stunned expression, he grinned. “I hope my brothers weren’t too much of a bother.”

  She wrinkled her freckled nose. “They bothered my eyes. Couldn’t stand those ripped muscles and unsightly bare chests.”

  Laughing, he scooped up the address. “It’s a family curse.”

  He played a game with himself and refused to look at the billboard when he passed it on the way off the island. He had to stay focused on his plan and remember the advice his grandmother had given him during a long conversation the night before.

  “Once you find her,” Gram had said, “Don’t you ever, ever let her go.”

  Oh, no, Gram. He would never, ever let her go. He was still smiling when Freddie answered the door.

  “Oh, my, what a surprise,” she said, only she didn’t sound the least bit surprised.

  “Hi, Freddie. I’m looking for Nicole.”

  “Well, gracious, she’s heading back to Mar Brisas.”

  Blood drained from his head as he imagined his plan unraveling before him. “How long ago did she leave?”

  “Oh, maybe five or ten minutes at the most.”

  He imagined her careening down Route One. “Is she in her car? The red Honda?”

  Freddie nodded. “Yes, you can call her on the cell phone.”

  No. No he couldn’t. “I’ve got to find her,” he said, turning toward his car. “Thanks, Freddie.”

  The look on her face stopped him in his tracks. Then, she sniffed. Not like she was clearing her nose, just really taking a good, long smell. Her eyes narrowed and then broke into a broad smile. “Smells good today, don’t you think?”

  She was nuts. He nodded in agreement. She couldn’t keep him here to discuss how the day smelled, for crying out loud.

  She sniffed harder. “Smells like…love.”

  He laughed out loud, grabbed her shoulders and laid a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “Hell yes, Fred.”

  He could still see her standing in the doorway as he peeled out her driveway and down the street. He honked twice and waved at her. With the convertible top down, he could really smell the day.

  He sniffed like Freddie. Oh yeah. It smelled like love all right.

  Nicole refused to let thoughts of Mac cloud her brain. It was a glorious Sunday afternoon, with a cloudless blue sky under endless warm Florida sunshine. It was a day for new beginnings, she told herself. Tomorrow, she’d get the check from the bank and start the restoration of Mar Brisas.

  She opened the windows and, feeling wild, pressed the button to slide open her sunroof. The Prelude picked up speed as she pulled onto Route One and impulsively turned up the volume of her light-rock station which merely serenaded her with a sad love song.

  She reached for the radio and hit the next available button before one more note could play. But all she heard was some woman crooning about an incredible kiss.

  With a violent twist, she turned off the radio.

  No, no, no. She would not do this. She wanted her independence, damn it. She always wanted to be alone and free and unencumbered. Without the possibility of loss.

  But didn’t she already lose?

  Traffic moved briskly, but still the road to St. Joseph’s bridge was more crowded than usual. Somewhere behind her, she heard a few horns honking. Everyone was so impatient, she thought. Where were they all headed?

  Home. To loved ones. To spouses and families and Sunday night dinners.

  Nicole sighed. It didn’t matter even if she had changed her mind about living life alone. The only person she wanted didn’t want her. He wanted his job and apartment and money. Not her.

  She rounded the last corner, willing the dampness in her eyes to dry. She wouldn’t go there. She wouldn’t wallow in self-pity and—

  The rainbow splash of letters seized her attention and sent a shocking rush through Nicole. She stared at them, vaguely aware that she tapped her brakes and slowed down to a crawl, unable to take her eyes off the billboard.

  Sloppy, unprofessional, amateur and the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen. A medley of colors, hand painted on a black background.

  Lady in Blue. And White. And Pink. And Red. I’m coming back to Mar Brisas and I’m never leaving paradise again. You are the one.

  Mac

  A horn screamed into the afternoon and brakes squealed behind her. But Nicole had come to a dead stop, unable to move, to breath, to think. She unfastened her seat belt and yanked on her emergency brake. Holding on to her roof, she pulled herself through the opening, stood on the driver’s seat, not caring that she looked like some kind of crazy jack-in-the-box.

  “What the hell’s going on?” someone screamed behind her.

  She didn’t hear them, didn’t hear the horns and hollers or squeals of brakes behind her. I’m never leaving paradise again.

  An absurdly wonderful wave of happiness rushed over her. Mac. Mac. She was the one and he was coming back to her. Mac.

  One long, insistent horn screamed at her. “Hey, lady!”

  Finally, she turned in the direction, unable to wipe the ridiculous smile from her face.

  And there he was. One lane over, two cars back. Sitting on the headrest of his convertible, looking as ridiculous as she did. Mac.

  He reached out his arm and pointed a finger at her. “You,” he mouthed to her. “You are the one.”

  As he leaped out of his car and dashed through the traffic, her heart nearly stopped. Ignoring everything and everyone, she slipped back into her seat, opened the door and jumped out to meet him just as he reached her car.

  “I don’t believe you did that,” she said, laughing, breathless.

  He grinned at her and glanced at the billboard behind her. “I just composed it. My brothers did the artwork.”

  A laugh escaped as he reached for her. “And you know I’m a firm believer in truth in advertising.” He pulled her closer, his sweat-dampened shirt warming her. “You are the one and only woman for me, Nicole. I love you.”

  The words washed over her and she squeezed him tighter. “I love you, too, Mac.”

  He kissed her on the lips, long and hungry, stopping only because they both laughed as the shouts around them increased in intensity…and color.

  “Just marry her, buddy,” a trucker called from the next lane over. “You’re a goner anyway.”

  “I’m planning to,” Mac hollered back, then his smile was suddenly replaced by a serious, intent expression as he looked at Nicole and softly added, “If she’ll have me.”

  For a long moment, they didn’t speak. All the noise faded into the background as Nicole lost herself in the depths of his brown eyes.

  “Will you, Nicole?” he finally asked. “Will you marry me?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “What about New York? Your life? Your job?”

  “I want to live here. And you are my life.” He kissed her forehead. “As
for a job, well, is there any chance you’re hiring over at that resort? I hear business is booming.”

  Sparks of joy exploded in her heart. “As a matter of fact, I could use a roofer. A painter. A carpenter. And a husband.” She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “No real estate moguls may apply.”

  He curled her body into his. “I’m the one you want, lady.”

  She laid her head on his chest and sighed. No doubt about it. He was the one she wanted. He was the one.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-8307-1

  LIKE A HURRICANE

  Copyright © 2004 by Roxanne St. Claire

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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  Roxanne St. Claire, Like a Hurricane

 


 

 
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