THIRTY-DAY FIANCÉ Page 12
He jerked and scowled.
Taking full advantage, Olivia shimmied off the bed and scrambled toward the master bath.
The door slammed shut just as she reached it. Olivia saw Nick's large hand on the door at the same time she felt his other hand slide around her waist.
She sighed and gave a mock sobbing sound. "I need to get dressed. I need—"
"No, you don't."
She turned around and leaned against the door. "I want food."
"What a demanding woman." He nodded and his gaze fell over her bare body with breathtaking speed. "Okay. Go ahead and fill the Jacuzzi. I'll bring you food and drink." He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I like the way you look in my bed."
Her heart stuttered. "So, if I were machine washable, I'd be almost as good as a comforter?"
"Almost." He grinned over his shoulder and walked away. "Jacuzzi's almost as good as the washing machine."
Olivia groaned and turned into the bathroom. The man could literally make her crazy. One minute she was falling under his spell, the next she wanted to slap his very nice bare rear end.
After gulping down a glassful of water, she glanced in the mirror and swallowed a shriek. "Omigod," she murmured, combing her fingers through her mussed hair. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips swollen from kisses, her skin pink from Nick's beard rubbing her face. She closed her eyes, hoping her image would change. She opened them and found the same sight.
"I look like a hussy," she said, then lowered her voice. "Or like I have a love hangover."
The word "love" jangled inside her like an old alarm clock. "I don't love Nick. I don't love Nick. I don't love Nick," she said, and turned away from the mirror when her eyes begged to differ.
After washing her face, she turned the jets in the hot tub on full blast to drown out the singsong rhyme that played in her head with childish glee. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
There were a million reasons she shouldn't love Nick. As she waited for the tub to fill, she named them. One: he didn't love her. Two: he had such a strong personality that he would overwhelm her. Three: he didn't love her. Four: she wasn't right for him. Five: he didn't love her…
She continued her list as she stepped into the tub. She was on number twenty when Nick appeared with a tray of pastries, fruit, and orange juice.
"A mermaid in my tub," Nick said, setting the tray down. "Some guys have all the luck."
Her heart melted along with the twenty reasons she couldn't love him. Olivia knew what she looked like. She gave a gentle smile. "You're not wearing your contacts, are you?"
He made a sexy sound that mixed a growl with a chuckle, then put his hand on her head and dunked her.
Sputtering as she lifted her head out of the water, she pushed her wet hair out of her face and glared at him. "You really know how to spoil a moment."
He brought the goblets of orange juice with him into the tub and sat beside her. "Let me see if I can make it up to you."
Accepting the glass, Olivia drank several sips and took a deep breath as he put his arm around her shoulders. "This is nice," she conceded. "Very nice."
He lifted a pastry to her lips.
She hesitated.
"Go ahead," he urged, his tone indulgent. "I don't want you fainting from hunger. I have plans for you."
A ripple of anticipation ran through her. Unable to look away, she watched him while she took a bite, then another and another. He held her glass to her lips. With each bite, with each sip, with each breath, she felt herself sinking.
"Don't be too nice to me, Nick," she warned. "I might get used to it."
He lowered his mouth to hers. "That wouldn't be so bad, would it?" He nibbled at her lips. "It's nice having you around. You make my house smile."
Her heart twisted. "I'd rather make you smile." She gulped. The secret truth slipped out of her mouth as easily as the water had poured from the jets.
"You do," he said, lifting her chin so she would meet his gaze. "You made me smile when you were a kid with skinned knees and chopped-up bangs."
He had no idea he was touching all her private places. "I'm still lousy at snapping my fingers," she said, trying to expand the tight feeling inside her.
"Maybe you should stay around longer than thirty days," he said. "Give me a little more time, and I'll teach you."
"How would you do that?"
"Reward system. You snap your fingers," he said in a deep voice, skimming his finger down her chest, "and I'll come running."
Stop making me love you, she thought, feeling her protests and defenses slip from her grasp and helpless to stop it. "You better be careful what you offer. Snapping my fingers and having a Warrior Commando at my beck and call is pretty darn tempting."
He took her glass, returned it to the tray, and turned back to her. Lifting her hand, he took one of her fingers into his mouth.
A soft moan slipped from her throat. "What are you doing?"
"Just tempting a mermaid," he told her. "Is it working?"
"Too well," she told him. He had no idea how well.
"Practice," he said.
Olivia blinked in confusion. "Practice?"
"Snap your fingers. I'll come running."
Olivia made a lame attempt. Nick kissed her, and she was lost. Lost in love. For all her struggling to fight it, she loved Nick. She loved him for his strengths and even his flaws. The depth and strength of her love frightened her.
She could spend a lifetime trying to please this man. She could devote forever to reaching past his defenses and winning him. A dozen self-protective protests clamored through her mind. Olivia had been pushed a little too far, however, and she was impatient with fear.
She had never loved like this before, and she suspected she never would again. She kissed him for all the nights they wouldn't share. She stroked him for all the smiles she wouldn't see, all the laughter she wouldn't hear.
She felt his heart hammer against her cheek after she dragged her tongue down his chest.
"My turn for answers," he said through a groan as she lowered her hands beneath the water to his hardness. "What are you doing?" he asked as if he could sense the change in her, as if he could feel her abandon.
"Giving in to temptation," she said, urging him upward to sit on the padded side of the tub. Then she lowered her mouth to his full, hard arousal and made love to him as if there was no tomorrow, because Olivia knew she was on borrowed time.
* * *
The following morning Nick kissed Olivia and left for work. As if she were a condemned prisoner eating a final meal, Olivia allowed herself to stay in his bed for five minutes and let the memories of her time with Nick play through her mind.
The light blue color of his sheets reminded her of his eyes, although his eyes weren't soft at all. They were bright and fierce with intelligence. She turned her face into his pillow and inhaled his musky scent. Closing her eyes, she conjured up the sound of his voice, his laughter.
Last night, she had almost convinced herself that he was as crazy for her as she was for him. Almost. The way he touched her and looked at her made it easy. But in the back of her mind, truth reared its head. A stab of pain sliced through her and she bit her lip.
She had broken all her rules, but her worst crime was that she'd fallen in love with him. Inch by inch, day by day, she'd let him take more and more of her heart. Her worst fears were realized. She'd fallen for him. All along she'd feared Nick possessed such a strong, dynamic identity that he would consume her. He had become too important to her. Thoughts of him nudged at her nearly every waking moment, even when she should be studying.
There was only one thing she could do now. Her heart felt as heavy as a cement block. Her sadness permeated her veins. She tried to tell herself she'd had plenty of warning. Nick had said he didn't like messy women, and Lord knew, she was messy. Despite their pretend engagement, Nick had made it clear he wasn't interested in romantic commitment.
The plain truth was, Olivia loved him and he did
n't love her. He never would. Her stomach twisted at the ruthless truth. Sure, Nick was attracted to her, strongly attracted. If Olivia weren't careful, she would cling to that tiny bit of encouragement and spend the rest of her life trying to make him love her.
She had to leave. "No need to cry, girlfriend. You knew this day was coming," she muttered, and repeated it like a mantra.
Rising from his big bed, she pulled on a robe and put herself on automatic. She stripped the sheets, tossed them into the laundry, cleaned the dishes and went through the house gathering up her belongings. She smiled sadly at the thought that Nick might breathe a sigh of relief at having his neat home back under control. At least he wouldn't stumble over the shoes she left at the door anymore.
Sitting at the kitchen table, she wrote a note, read it, then threw it away. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "No need to cry," she coached herself, hating the shakiness in her voice.
On impulse, she mixed some apple-cinnamon muffins and put them in the oven. While they were baking, she wrote another note, and threw it away, too. After she tossed her fourth draft, the timer went off.
Swearing in frustration, Olivia took the muffins out of the oven. A hard knot of distress crowded her chest. She didn't want to leave. Tough. She scratched out a quick note and signed it. Pulling the ring off her finger, she set it down. Friendship ring, he'd insisted. She put it on again, marveling at how right it felt on her finger. Closing her eyes, she hated her indecision. She couldn't keep it, she resolved. Olivia never wanted to take more than she left behind.
She climbed the stairs, cried in the shower, and packed her bags.
* * *
The smell of cinnamon teased Nick as soon as he walked through his front door. He smiled. Olivia had been cooking again. Automatically stepping around the area at the door where she sometimes left her shoes, he headed for the kitchen.
The room was clean and empty, and he felt a twinge of disappointment at not seeing her. "Olivia," he called, walking upstairs. Today he had decided to persuade her to extend their thirty-day engagement. He liked having her in his bed, in his life, and was unwilling to let her go.
Although neither of them was interested in commitment, there was no reason they couldn't live together, he reasoned. Fine with him to nip their social obligations in the bud to make her more comfortable with the idea. If there were deeper reasons he wanted her to stay, he pushed them aside for the more logical.
The stillness of the house nagging at him, he checked her room. It was neat, her belongings out of sight. Totally out of character. He frowned.
Her cosmetics usually decorated the top of the dresser, she often left a stack of folded clothes on the chair, and her shoes were rarely put away. Olivia had a problem with shoes, he thought. Eager to kick them off, she often left them where she dropped them.
His uneasiness grew. He stepped into the room and opened her closet door. None of her clothes hung in the closet. His heart took a strange plunge into his gut. He checked the dresser drawers and found them empty.
The realization hit him like a knockout punch.
She was gone.
A flurry of images from yesterday and last night raced through his mind. He had never felt closer to a woman. He had never felt more honest emotion from a woman than he had yesterday. Why had she left?
Stunned, he returned to the kitchen and the scent of cinnamon. He began to pace from one end of the floor to the other.
What had made her leave? What—
Nick caught sight of a sheet of paper on the table.
On top of it, the ring he'd given Olivia seemed to mock him. He picked up the note and read it.
Dear Nick,
I'm very sorry, but I just can't pretend anymore.
Love,
Olivia
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
Three nights later Nick took a drive down Cherry Lane and pushed the doorbell of the small ranch house belonging to the Polnecek family. If Olivia hadn't wreaked complete havoc in his life, and he had slept more than five minutes at a shot since she'd left, he might have chuckled at the memory of all the times he'd rang the Polneceks' doorbell as a kid, then run away before someone opened the door.
But he wasn't laughing or running.
The door opened at the same time the porch light flicked on. Olivia poked her head out and her eyes rounded in surprise. "Nick, what are you doing here?"
"You still have some time left on our agreement," he said in a calm voice, though he was torn between hauling her off and wringing her pretty neck. The legal ramifications of either choice ran through his mind and he pulled the ring out of his pocket.
She looked at the ring and pain glinted through her eyes. Glancing over her shoulder, she stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her. The winter night was cool, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she looked at him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just couldn't pretend anymore. I felt like a fraud to everyone."
"Not to me," he said, fighting a dull ache at the distress in her voice.
"To you, to me," she said. "It was so confusing. First, I'm supposed to act like I love you in front of other people. Then we're lovers, but I'm not supposed to love you." She shook her head and bit her lip. "I just couldn't do it anymore."
"You were upset about other people," Nick began, trying to understand.
"It's not other people. It's me."
"Why?" he asked, his patience frayed. He swore. "You didn't act confused on Sunday."
Color rose high in her cheeks. "I know, but…"
"But what?"
She tightened her arms around herself and lifted her chin. "I know it probably doesn't make sense to you. It's not logical," she admitted. "I can't explain it."
"Try harder," Nick said, knowing he was pushing her, but needing answers. "How do you make love to me like I'm the most important thing in the world to you one day, and leave the next?"
"I told you I can't explain it," she said, wringing her hands.
"And I told you I wanted you to keep the damn ring," Nick said, feeling his control shredding.
Olivia shook her head. "I can't keep the ring. Every time I'd look at it, I would cry. I can't—"
"Cry!"
"Please keep your voice down." She took a deep breath. "This is already difficult for me. It's going to take me forever to get past—"
Confused as hell, Nick wanted to howl at the moon. "Get past what?"
He saw the first flicker of temper in her eyes.
"This is so easy for you. You can turn your emotions on and off, but I can't. You asked me to pretend to be your fiancée, to pretend to adore you, to pretend to love you. I'll tell you my problem, Mr. Warrior Commando. I wasn't pretending. I fell in love with you. How's that for messy?" she asked, her eyes turning shiny with unshed tears.
She didn't give him half a breath to respond.
"Don't worry. I know you don't love me. So show a little mercy. Just leave me alone and let me get the hell over you." She gave a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Or I'll sic my father and brother on you."
Stunned, he felt the breeze from the door as she closed it behind her. He stared at the door for a full moment while he tried to absorb her rock-his-world confession. Her words echoed inside him like a gong.
Olivia loved him. The most incredible warmth pervaded his bloodstream, until the second thought followed like ice water. She didn't ever want to see him again.
* * *
When Nick decided to drown his sorrows, he had no idea it would turn into a Bad Boys Club reunion. He gave Ben a call, and somehow two turned into four at Mac 'n' Bob's on Main Street in Salem.
Nick looked at his grown-up comrades and shook his head. "You're all old married guys now. How did you manage to get out on Christmas Eve?"
"That's easy," Stan Michaels, who was now an orthopedic doctor, said. "The ladies are all at my house."
Ben gave a sly grin. "Giving Jenna Jean advice and support."
Stan's grin was so huge he looked ready to burst. "We're gonna have a baby."
Surprised, Nick stared at him. "I don't believe it. Congratulations," he said automatically, but the thought of babies brought Olivia to his mind, clawing at a raw place inside him. He quickly tried to banish it.
He looked at Joe Caruthers. "And I don't believe you're here, either. I was wondering if we would ever see anything more than pictures from you since you live in Colorado now."
"My wife kept planting the idea of expanding my franchise operation with a partner in Roanoke." Joe shrugged. "It gives me an excuse to come back here every now and then."
Ben took a long drink of beer. "Yep, the cheese stands alone, Nick. When are you going to stop being Bachelor of the Year?"
"Never," he said. Determined not to admit that he might as well be crying in his beer over a woman, he waved his hand at the waiter for another round for the table.
"Is that so?" Ben asked. "You know, my wife, Amelia, likes to read. She's a professor and she's a smart cookie."
"And she still married you," Stan said with tongue-in-cheek amazement.
Ben tossed him a sideways glance. "The next time you want mechanical advice on your car," he began in a mock-threatening voice.
"Okay, okay," Stan said, lifting his hand. "Finish what you were saying."
Ben, the owner of Roanoke's only successful foreign car dealership, grinned. "They get all the newspapers at the college. She noticed an interesting piece in the Richmond newspaper about wedding bells ringing for Nick Nolan."
Nick felt the threat of acid indigestion. "Misprint," he said. "Those society editors are always getting their facts messed up."
"The most interesting part of this," Ben continued as if Nick had said nothing, "was the name of the bride-to-be."
"Don't go there, Ben," Nick said.
"We all knew her," he added.
Nick rubbed his hand over his face and swore under his breath. "You set me up," he said.