truth, even if it wasn’t forthcoming from his fiercely independent grandmother.
“I’ve enjoyed seeing your home.” His attention shifted to Amber, who was studiously avoiding looking at him as she spoke to his grandmother. “But I really have to get going or I’ll be late for work.”
His brows skimmed upward when Celeste took Amber’s hand in hers and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “It was such a pleasure, my dear. Thank you so much for everything.” With the mantle of age, his grandmother had abandoned some of the niceties of polite society. She didn’t waste time, or civility, on anyone she didn’t hold in some esteem.
“I enjoyed meeting you.” Amber’s smile was the first genuine one Nick had seen from her, and his hand faltered for an instant in the act of raising his glass. As if she felt his gaze on her, her smile quickly faded, to be replaced with her more familiar wary mask.
“Perhaps we’ll meet again. I think I would enjoy getting to know the woman who can hold her own with my grandson.” Eyes twinkling, Celeste rose. “I’ll tell Benjamin that you’re ready to leave.” With careful steps she left the parlor.
Nick took the opportunity to refill Amber’s glass, noting the way she stilled as he drew closer. He could almost see the effort it took for her not to move away, and felt an element of admiration, tinged with amusement. She was determined not to show him even that small weakness. He understood that kind of control, possessed it himself. He wondered what kind of experiences had forged hers.
“Are you going to meet with Douglas tonight?” she asked.
She’d managed to surprise him. Taking his time setting the pitcher down and settling into his chair once more, he studied her. “Why?”
Her fingers worried the earring at her lobe. The nervous gesture was at odds with the defiance in her eyes. “It wasn’t fair of you to make the meeting conditional upon my accompanying him.”
“I don’t play fair, Amber.” A thought occurred to him then, and wouldn’t be quieted. “What’s your relationship with Fairmont?” He was adept at eliciting the information he wanted with far more finesse, but her answer mattered more than it should have.
“Are you asking if I serve him more than breakfast?”
“Do you?”
Silence stretched, while their gazes did battle. “No.”
The elastic tension inside him that had stretched taut while he waited for her answer slowly relaxed. He hadn’t thought so, but her defense of the man had had him reconsidering. “Good.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because…” he paused to sip his iced tea “…I have no intention of entering into a business arrangement with a man I would later have to destroy.”
Shock flickered across Sara’s expression. Her hand clutching her glass, she rubbed her thumb over the condensation collected on it. “And I have no intention of accompanying him here tonight. Will you still help him?”
“I may. It depends on the figures he shows me.”
“So…you’re into investments?”
Smiles didn’t come easily to him, but he felt one on his lips now. “I make all sorts of investments. Some more lucrative than others.”
From her expression it was obvious that his cryptic response failed to satisfy. But she didn’t press him for details as other women might have done. Instead she said in a very matter-of-fact voice, “I won’t sleep with you, you know.”
The tea had difficulty passing the sudden knot in his throat. He hadn’t expected such forthrightness from her, but then, he really didn’t know Amber Jennings. Not at all. “I reserve the right to try and change your mind about that.” He noted with interest the way her fingers flexed on her glass, and wondered if the action reflected anxiety or annoyance.
“You don’t look like a man who enjoys wasting his time.”
“I’m not.”
Her glass made a small clink on the marble tabletop as she set it down, then rose. “I’d like to leave now.”
“I’m sure Benjamin has the car ready.”
She hesitated, then gave a nod. Turning to go, she halted a moment later, and said, “Please tell your grandmother again how much I enjoyed meeting her. She’s a wonderful lady.”
He made no effort to disguise the affection in his voice. “She is, yes.” Strolling along beside her, he opened the front door for her when they’d crossed the hallway. The car was pulled up front, waiting. She started toward it without another word, and Nick followed her out onto the porch, watched her descend the steps. “Amber?”
She halted in the act of sliding into the car, and looked at him.
Raising his glass to her, he said, “I’ll see you soon.”
She made no comment, and he’d expected none. The car door slammed, and the vehicle pulled away. He was contemplating the winking taillights when he heard his grandmother’s voice behind him.
“I like that girl, Nicky.” She tucked her arm into his and he covered her fingers absently with his own. “You will leave her out of those games you play, n’est-ce pas?”
Broodingly, he watched the car as it turned out of the drive. “I’m not playing, Grand-mère. Not this time.”
Chapter 2
Sleep could be unkind to those with blood on their hands. Nick tossed on the sweat-dampened sheets while faces loomed in his unconscious, each receding, to be replaced by yet another. And when an all too familiar shot ricocheted through his dreams, shattering his slumber, he woke with a start, his heart jackhammering in his chest.
He hauled in a deep breath, then another. He was used to the nightmares, but lately they’d become more frequent. More relentless. After wiping his perspiring face with the sheet, he tossed it aside, got out of bed.
Despite the darkness, his steps were sure as he crossed the room that had been his since childhood. Unmindful of his nudity, he opened the terrace doors and stepped out onto the little balcony that overlooked his grandmother’s beloved gardens. There was a hint of a breeze, but it did little to cool his heated skin. The air was heavy with moisture. It would rain by tomorrow.
His muscles still quivered with the aftershocks of the nightmare. From long practice he kept his breathing deep and steady, fighting off the sensation of suffocating. At one time that feeling had been a constant in his life. But those days were over, reenacted only in his dreams.
The scent of gardenias drifted toward him and his fingers clenched on the railing as he filled his lungs. But it wasn’t the gardens he thought of this time, but the woman who hovered at the edge of his unconscious.
Amber. With her wide, catlike eyes and long sleek body, she reminded him of a feline, begging to be stroked. But that one wouldn’t welcome petting, and most definitely not from him. She did everything in her power to avoid being touched by him at all.
Nick worked his shoulders, impatient with himself. He’d never been one to obsess over a woman, and if he wasn’t careful, that’s what Amber would become. An obsession. One that filled the mind and absorbed the senses. One that caused a man to forget all about obligation and focus solely on her.
She was a puzzle, with her badly cut hair and quick, nervous movements. Her anxious mannerisms, when she toyed with her earring or her necklace, were at odds with the cool, measuring look in her eye. It was intriguing to wonder which was the real woman—the nervous waif or the wary combatant. Whichever she was, she’d made no secret of her distrust of him.
If he were a better man, a kinder one, he’d forget all about Amber Jennings and leave her alone to live her life as she chose. But because he was neither, he knew he’d do nothing of the sort.
The