THIRTY-DAY FIANCÉ Page 7

Bob took her hand and patted it. "We're happy to meet you, but Nick's been so closemouthed we haven't heard a damn thing about you except from the newspaper."

  "Bob, give them a break," Karen said with a gentle reprimand in her voice. "We can get to know Olivia during dinner."

  The restaurant host called their party to guide them toward their table, and Karen turned to Olivia. "I understand you're a student at Virginia Commonwealth University."

  And the grilling began.

  "It's unusual to wait to start college when you did, isn't it?" Karen asked.

  "Yes, it is," Nick intervened, taking Olivia's hand. "And it's one of the things I admire about Olivia."

  Olivia looked at him and blinked. "It is? You do? Oh," she said, seeming to remember her role. She smiled and brushed his hand against her mouth. "Nick's support of my education is one of the reasons I fell in love with him."

  Nick felt a tug low in his gut at the sight of her lips on his hand. Olivia turned the conversation to Karen and Bob's children. She charmed the couple by asking to see pictures and showing interest in Karen's volunteer activities and Bob's golf game.

  All the while, she never missed an opportunity to touch Nick—his shoulder, his arm, his hand. Several times, she smiled at Nick and held his gaze until Nick felt an insidious rush of heat and Bob cleared his throat.

  He knew it was an act, but his libido and his body weren't nearly so rational. If he and Olivia were truly engaged, the evening would end with her in his bed. Her expressive hands would touch his bare skin. She would cup and stroke him intimately, and he would learn what made her gasp and moan. He would bury his face in her breasts and take her nipples into his mouth. He would slide his hands between her legs and make her warm and wet and as desperate for him as he would be for her. Then he would plunge inside her and brand her as his…

  "I'd love to see your engagement ring," Karen said as they waited for dessert.

  Nick tensed. Damn. He hadn't thought about a ring.

  "We're looking," Olivia said quickly. "Nick said he wanted to give me something unique."

  He played along. "Rubies," he said. "I thought something with rubies and diamonds would suit Olivia."

  Karen sighed. "How romantic." She cocked her head to the sound of the band on the other side of the room. "Since the dessert isn't here yet, why don't we take a few turns around the dance floor?"

  Bob made grumbling sounds of protest.

  "Just a couple of songs. It won't kill you," she said, then turned to Nick and Olivia. "C'mon, you two. I know you won't mind."

  Nick stood and shrugged at Olivia's tight smile.

  "Of course," she murmured.

  The band played an old Eric Clapton ballad, and Nick took Olivia into his arms. She was tense.

  "Ease up," he coached against her ear. "You're supposed to be thrilled to be close to me."

  "Oh," Olivia muttered, gingerly resting her chin on his shoulder. "Thanks for reminding me."

  "You've been very convincing," Nick said, thinking she was no hardship to hold.

  "Thank you. You haven't done too poorly yourself."

  His lips twitched at her faint praise. "I think they like you."

  "They're definitely curious about me. I almost felt like I was being interviewed. Should I have brought a résumé?"

  "No. That would have taken all the fun out of the interrogation."

  He massaged the small of her back and lowered his lips to her throat.

  She gave a soft, muffled gasp that ran through him like wildfire. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

  "They're watching. We need to look like we're hot for each other."

  She made a low sound of frustration. "How hot?"

  Nick didn't hesitate. "Jalapeño hot."

  She sighed. "Okay," she finally said, then lifted her head, looked directly into his eyes like a Valkyrie conqueror, and kissed the stuffing out of him. Consuming his mouth with her lips and tongue, she arched against him.

  Nick felt his body temperature go through the roof while he grew hard and swollen. By the time she pulled away, it was all he could do not to slide his hands over her bottom and grind her against the part of him that throbbed with need.

  Blinking a few times, she took a careful breath and managed a lopsided smile. "How'd I do?"

  * * *

  After they finally finished dessert, said good-night to Bob and Karen, and drove home, Olivia practically flew through Nick's front door.

  "G'night," she called over her shoulder and ran straight up the stairs to her room. Closing the door, she stood in the middle of the floor and took several mind-clearing breaths.

  With each inhalation, she breathed the subtle, seductive scent of Nick's aftershave. It wrapped around her and heated her blood the same way Nick had tonight when they'd danced. His scent clung to her dress.

  Swearing, she stripped it off and tossed it onto the bed. "I'm never going to last," she muttered to herself as she paced in a circle, clad only in her bra, black stockings, and ankle boots. "It hasn't even been two weeks, and I like him!"

  She grabbed a pillow and smashed it against her face. For her sanity's sake, she needed to hate him. It had been all too easy to pretend to admire Nick, to act as if she found him handsome and sexy. To kiss him as if she meant it. Kissing him had been stupid, very stupid.

  Even now, she was still warm, still worked up.

  Olivia's moan vibrated into the pillow. Her vision obscured by the pillow, she kept moving because she couldn't keep still. Suddenly she snagged her toe under the corner of the rug and tripped. Forward, then backward. She landed flat on her rear end and shrieked.

  "Olivia?" Nick's voice called from the door.

  "Yes," she yelled, rubbing her bottom. She stretched out her legs to make sure she hadn't sprained anything.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, cracking the door open.

  Pulling the pillow against her chest, she stared at the opening door in horror. "I'm fine. I just tripped over the edge of the rug. You don't need to—"

  He opened the door the rest of the way. She scrambled to her feet and winced at the slight pain.

  "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked in a doubtful tone.

  Olivia looked at Nick and couldn't decide if he was a bigger pain in the rear than falling on the floor had been. He stood there in her doorway, so calm, so cool. So dressed.

  "I'm fine. I fell where I'm best padded," she said, and hoped he would leave.

  He didn't. His gaze trailed over her, as slow and as thorough as molasses.

  "I'm fine as long as I don't need to sit. Thanks for checking on me," she said, hinting that he could leave now.

  He stepped closer with a whisper of a grin that spelled danger on his face. "I hate to think of you falling on your very nice rear end."

  "I'll be fine," she said, resisting the urge to rub the part of her that still smarted.

  "Need a second opinion?"

  Olivia stopped breathing. The evening had been too much. His offer combined with the seductive look in his eyes put her over the edge. "Out!" she yelled, and whacked him with the pillow. He held up his hands and moved backward out of her room.

  Not caring what kind of ridiculous picture she made with her stockings, ankle boots, bra and pillow, she glared at him. "Get out, you sorry excuse for a hero! Or Mighty Warrior Commando! Or fiancé!"

  She slammed the door and threw the pillow against it for good measure.

  From the other side of the door came a low chuckle. "All you had to say was no."

  Olivia wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. Instead she counted to one hundred. Three times. Then after she was sure Nick was out of the hall, she did the only thing she could do.

  She ran to the bathroom, stripped off her clothes, climbed into the shower and doused herself with freezing water.

  * * *

  The next morning Olivia got up and planned to spend the day at the library. She managed to beat Nick downstairs; no mean feat since he was an early riser.
Glancing out the window, she looked mournfully at the sleet-covered streets. The ice sounded like needles hitting the windowpane. As desperate as she was to put some distance between her and Nick, she didn't want to put her car or herself in danger.

  Alternative plan, she told herself. She would spend the day in her room. Making herself a pot of hot tea, she grabbed a muffin and rushed to get back to her room before Nick awakened.

  As she reached the top step, he opened his bedroom door. Clearly just out of the shower, he stood in his doorway with damp hair, bare chest, wearing a pair of jeans and an assessing gaze on his clean-shaven face. Olivia found the sight of his muscular bare chest distracting, so she glanced down. His denim-clad hips and long legs proved equally distracting, so she looked up into his bright eyes and sighed. Everything about him was distracting, she thought glumly.

  "You're up early this morning," he said.

  Olivia nodded. "I was hoping to go to the Library to work on an English assignment, but the streets are a mess. I'll be in my room," she said, and started down the hall.

  "How are you this morning?"

  Olivia closed her eyes at her lack of manners. It was his naked chest, she told herself. He was more muscular than she had expected. She turned to face him. "I'm fine, and you?"

  "Fine," he said. "And your—derriere?"

  She willed herself not to blush. "Fine. I'm recovered."

  "You won't need to sit on the pillow?" he continued, his lips twitching slightly.

  "No."

  "That was a very pretty bra you were wearing last night."

  Olivia felt her cheeks heat at the image. "I would just as soon you forget last night."

  "Not likely," he said in a dry tone. "But if you're going to work on an English assignment, feel free to use my computer in the study. The word processor on it is fairly standard."

  Olivia stood silently for a moment digesting his offer.

  He chuckled. "You look surprised."

  "Well, I am." Chagrined, she quickly added, "And at the same time, I'm not. You have to be so tough and aggressive with your job that I forget how kind you can be."

  For a moment she looked into Nick's gaze and saw the eyes of the kid she'd known and admired. A strange connecting kind of silence welled between them, and along with it a flood of nostalgic memories rippled through her mind. He had been so kind to her when they were children, and in a way, she had worshiped him. The thought disturbed her.

  "Thank you," Olivia said, and slowly walked to her room.

  It took a while for her to yank her concentration in line, but she spent the day in seclusion working on her assignments. Occasionally she heard Nick on the phone or walking in various rooms of the house, but she knew she had no hope of getting anything done if he was in the same room.

  That evening before dinner, she took Nick up on his offer, booted up the computer in his study and typed the first six pages of her English essay. She saved the material, and was halfway through page seven when the power went out. With the room pitch-black, she waited for the electricity to return.

  A moment passed and the beam from a lantern flashed across the room. "Tell me you backed up," Nick said, referring to the computer.

  "I saved most of it. I learned about that the hard way," she said in a wry voice.

  "Haven't we all?" he murmured, enjoying the sound of her voice in the dark. He moved closer and smelled the wicked, seductive scent of her oil. Nick was convinced her oil had been created to drive him insane. It was the oil, not the woman, he told himself repeatedly.

  "No. I'm sure there are some people who have never lost one word because they always backed up with zip drive and floppy." She hesitated. "I would have thought you might be one of those," she said, and he could hear a smile in her voice. "Perfectionist type as opposed to a mere mortal type like me."

  He shook his head and set the lantern on the desk. It lent a soft glow to the room. "Olivia, when did you turn into such a brash, mouthy female?"

  She paused. "When I met you again. I'm only this way with you," she said. "Everyone else thinks I'm sweet, quiet, and shy."

  He chuckled. "They don't know you like I do."

  "They just don't affect me like you do."

  He cocked his head to one side at her statement. "And how is that?"

  Silence followed and she looked out the window into more darkness. "Gosh, when do you think the power will come back on?"

  "You didn't answer my question. How do I affect you?"

  "I changed the subject."

  "And I redirected. How do I affect you?"

  Olivia groaned and bowed her head. "You make me want to scream."

  "Really," he said, more curious than ever. "Why?"

  "Nick, this is a crazy discussion to have anytime, let alone when it's pitch-black inside and outside."

  "Indulge me," he said. "I've been looking at law briefs all day. I've been told I provoke my opponents to thoughts of murder, but I haven't heard anything about screaming."

  "You're the most frustrating man I know," Olivia told him. "You're such a dichotomy. On one hand, you're this ruthless lawyer who refuses to be emotionally affected by his clients. You don't appear to have a romantic or sentimental bone in your body and make fun of those of us who do. On the other hand, you do things like rescue your neighbor from a fire and act as though it was the only choice you could make. You allow a badly scarred teenage client to come to your house because she can't face the world yet. And you offer the use of your computer to your fake fiancée."

  She took a breath, then continued. "Plus, you're entirely too confident. Sickeningly confident," she said emphatically. "And you should be uglier."

  Nick was speechless for five full seconds. He was rarely speechless unless he was using silence as a communication tool. "I've never received so many backhanded compliments in my life. 'Sickeningly confident'?" he echoed.

  "Some of it is job related," Olivia said. "But you have a deeper confidence a lot of people don't have. It's the kind of confidence that isn't defined by how you look, how much money you make, or what your occupation is. It's defined by who you are on the inside." She sighed. "You don't get that kind of confidence the easy way."

  He heard the note of envy in her voice. "And you want that kind of confidence."

  She gave a wistful smile. "Yes, I do."

  Her vulnerability tugged at him and stroked an empty place inside him. Nick had eliminated any sense of vulnerability from his persona. It had been necessary for many reasons, and he'd never doubted his choice to close himself off until now. Olivia's openness drew him like a beacon in a dark night. Did she have something he'd been missing all these years?

  He stepped closer to her and looked into her dark, dark eyes. "That's one of the most honest compliments I've ever received," he said, and shook his head as he lifted his hand to touch her jaw. "It amazes me how much you underrate yourself."

  Her gaze held his for a long moment, searching and wanting. Then she looked down. "I once heard a story that confidence is for humans like flying is to birds. I think that means that some people are born with a great pair of wings, and they take off with no problems. Others have to get by on littler wings, or wings that have gotten broken along the way. They can still fly," she told him, meeting his gaze again. "They just have to try a little harder."

  Nick felt something inside him shift and crack, one of many carefully erected walls built of stone. He felt a rush of profound emotion, the kind he guarded against. It was like salt water on a scraped knee. He could clearly see Olivia was the bird with a broken wing. For whatever reason, her family and the people around her had nearly convinced her that she couldn't live her dreams.

  "You'll fly," he told her, struggling with a seductive yet wholly disturbing desire to give Olivia everything she'd never had. "If anyone was ever destined to fly, it's you."

  Olivia stared at him, then horrified the hell out of him by bursting into tears.

  * * *

  Chapter 7
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  Olivia threw her arms around Nick and sniffed. "That's the best thing anyone has ever said to me."

  The heart-clutching intensity in her voice unsettled Nick. At the same time he felt ten feet tall. She felt warm and vibrant against him. Her tears dampened his shirt. Muffling a curse, he awkwardly patted her shoulder.

  It occurred to him that many people believed in his potential. Many people had expressed belief in his ability to achieve his professional goals. Until now, he'd never realized how important that was. It bothered him that Olivia had gone without people who believed in her.

  Olivia must have sensed his ambivalence. She pulled back and gave a small, watery smile. "I'm raining on your shirt. Sorry. I guess you hit a soft spot." She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. "The sprinkler's stopped. How about if I fix some sandwiches?"

  "Thanks," Nick said, relieved the emotional pitch was taken down a few notches. "I'll get a fire started and we can eat in the den."

  While Olivia went to the kitchen, Nick lit the fire and worked on quelling the strange restlessness inside him.

  By the time he built a strong blaze, she appeared with a tray of sandwiches and beer. "I think these are turkey, but since it was pretty dark, I won't swear to it," she said.

  "I'll risk it," Nick said.

  She sat across from him and they ate in silence for a few moments. The firelight glowed on her face, emphasizing her exotic features. Neither classic, nor cool, she was striking in an unusual, unforgettable way. It wasn't just her face or her body, Nick thought. It was her spirit.

  Spirit. He made a face at his thoughts. Where was that coming from? He glanced out the ice-covered window. There must be a full moon.

  "There's something I've been wondering about you," Olivia ventured.

  Nick swallowed a long drink of beer. "What's that?"

  "When did you change?"

  "Change how?" he asked, wondering where this kooky line of questioning might lead.

  She put her sandwich down and looked at him. "Well, you were always smart and brave," she told him. "When did you get so…"

  "Insensitive? Callous? Ruthless?" he offered with a wry grin.