New Lease on Love Read online

  "Okay, Heather, how many mountains can you name?" Chelsea challenged.

  "That's easy. There's October Mountain, and that's Mount Wilcox, the one with the pink cloud almost on it. And way out there," she pointed, "is Mount Greylock."

  "She's awfully bright," Nick commented. "My knowledge of these mountains begins and ends with Pine Ridge."

  Mrs. Leandro looped her arm around her daughter and gave her an affectionate hug.

  "The light's positively unearthly this evening, isn't it?" Chelsea commented. The entire world seemed awash in shades of rose and gold. "Okay, Heather, let's make a run for the river."

  "Awright!" the child cheered.

  Chelsea pulled on the line that vented the hot air, and slowly they slid earthward. She picked up the radio. "Larry, we're dropping in on the Housatonic for a while."

  "Roger. Have fun. Wish I were with you."

  The Housatonic River rushed and tumbled over its stony bed, sparkling with the slanting rays of the westering sun. By venting carefully, Chelsea brought the basket down until it just skimmed the water. The woods rose up on either side like walls of a leafy canyon. Ahead of them, a fish leapt into the air, and for one split second became a part of the ethereal light. Chelsea heard Nick's quick intake of breath and felt his excitement as her own. Sharing this experience, seeing him enjoy what she loved most in life, pleased her more than she had ever anticipated.

  At a bend in the river, she took them over the treetops again, and from there up and over a ridge into a different valley. They'd just lost touch with their chase vehicle, but she wouldn't alert Nick to that fact. Besides, Larry would catch up—eventually.

  The valley was as picturesque as the Berkshires got, but when Chelsea happened to glance at Nick, she was startled to find him watching her instead of the scenery. A smile warmed his eyes, softened his mouth. Suddenly she found breathing almost impossible. Good heavens, but the man made her dizzy! With an effort she looked away.

  The shakiness stayed with her, however. It was preposterous that Nick should affect her this way, but she was becoming used to the fact that reason wasn't controlling her reactions. She also knew she'd arranged this flight purposely, not merely to accommodate Heather, but because she'd wanted to be the one Nick shared his first balloon flight with. She'd sold her brother the story about Heather because, if she was really honest, it was a good excuse to be with Nick again. Her behavior wasn't just preposterous, it was reprehensible.

  The radio crackled. "Ground to Chelsea. Do you read me?"

  "Hi, Larry. You found us!" The guy was a gem. "Where are you?"

  They established location, and Larry added, "I hate to pull the plug on you, but the sun's dipping behind the ridge."

  "I know." It wouldn't do to be caught in the boondocks without light. It'd happened before, fortunately without passengers, and she'd had to come down into trees. Not an experience she ever wanted to repeat. "There's a farm ahead, though I'm not sure whose it is."

  "I'll run ahead and find out," Larry said.

  A short time later he confirmed that he'd cleared a landing with the property owner.

  "How was it?" Larry asked as Nick hoisted himself out of the basket.

  Nick made a thumbs-up motion and grinned. Chelsea couldn't wipe the smile off her own face, either.

  She ran to the Jeep and dug out a bottle of champagne for the farmer and his family who stood by, excited to near wordlessness at having such a marvelous event occur in their field. Then she opened a bottle for her passengers.

  Nick lifted an eyebrow. "What's this?"

  "Tradition." Crickets were singing in the deepening shadows now. Peace stilled the air. He held her gaze as he took the glass from her. "Thank you," he whispered. She knew his gratitude wasn't only for the champagne.

  Heat pooled in Chelsea's cheeks. She'd never been so aware of a man in her life—of the scent of him, the texture of his skin, his breathing, eyes, lips, his laugh, his walk. She had to shake off this obsession.

  She turned and poured out sparkling cider for Heather. "Here you go, mademoiselle."

  "Oh, thank you." Before taking the glass, however, Heather unzipped her windbreaker and untied her hood. When she did, the hood fell back, exposing her head.

  Chelsea saw Nick's eyes narrow and awareness jolt through him. He looked away quickly and drained his glass.

  His face had become a mask, but not fast enough. Chelsea had already seen his pained shock.

  "We didn't make a toast," Heather chided him.

  Nick slapped his forehead. "How rude of me."

  Chelsea was amazed at how quickly he'd caught his balance. No one else had even noticed him totter. She refilled his glass and watched him clink it to the child's.

  "To… balloon rides… and soft May nights… and beautiful ladies to share them with," he said.

  The return to Pine Ridge was jovial, filled with chatter of the flight, but when they were back at the field and everyone but Nick and Chelsea had gone, he finally unloaded the question on her.

  "What's the matter with Heather?" He kept his eyes trained on the Jeep's windshield.

  "Cancer." All the magic drained out of the night.

  "I figured that much. What kind?"

  "Bone. A rare form." After too long a silence, she gathered the courage to look at him. His jaw was set in an angry thrust, yet his eyes seemed lost in sorrow. "She's in remission right now."

  "But? I hear a 'but' in your voice."

  "Chances are it'll recur within the year." A sadness she'd suppressed all evening now consumed her.

  Nick let loose a harsh string of curses, and when he'd finished, he slumped against the door like an exhausted boxer retiring to his corner, quietly watching the moon rise over Pine Ridge Mountain. Its pale white light deepened all the sad lines of his face. "That poor little girl."

  "Nick, I'm sorry. Maybe I should have warned you…"

  He didn't appear to be listening.

  "We should go," she decided. "We're not doing anyone any good sitting…"

  Suddenly she felt a change, a slow, hot force rising inside Nick that scared her. He stiffened, straightened, then slowly turned.

  "What did you think you were doing, Chelsea?" The ice in his voice startled her.

  "Wh-what?"

  "I don't like playing games."

  "And I don't understand," she said, her voice rising in fear and frustration. Why was he so angry? And why at her?

  "Don't play stupid, Chelsea. You set me up, and you know it. What did you expect to accomplish? Did you want to open my eyes? Teach me a lesson? You have a thing about teaching people lessons, don't you? Well, somebody ought to fill you in—it isn't attractive. It's superior and holier-than-thou, and on top of that, how I feel about my daughter is none of your damn business!"

  Chelsea fell back against the seat, flabbergasted. What was he accusing her of? What, dear Lord, had she done? "I wish you'd explain. What's got you so upset?"

  His answer was a sharp, disdainful laugh. "You're unbelievable! Simply unbelievable!" He shook his head in thorough disgust. "I'm going home."

  Somehow that hurt most of all, his refusal to oblige her with even an explanation. He left the Jeep and walked to his car, moving as if he couldn't stand her company even one more second.

  And then Chelsea was sitting alone, awash in tears and moonlight in the middle of her empty field.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Every morning for the next week, Nick woke up hoping he'd feel better about the evening he'd gone ballooning. But he never did. Whenever he thought about Heather Leandro, his gut knotted with anger and sorrow. How could life be so indiscriminating in its cruelty?

  Damn that Chelsea Lawton and her meddlesome ways! She had no right playing games with people's emotions. Who did she think she was, anyway? Hadn't she anticipated how torn up he'd feel?

  But of course she had. That was her whole point. She'd wanted him to meet a child who was truly ill. She'd wanted to shock him into realizing how hea
lthy Katie was in comparison, to ram a sense of thankfulness down his throat. She'd probably gotten a kick out of it, too.

  How he hated being manipulated! He wanted to take Chelsea by the shoulders and shake her senseless—or at least tell her off—and several times during that long week he caught himself with his hand on the phone, ready to dial her number. At the last minute, though, something always pulled him back.

  He was relieved so much was going on at Pine Ridge these days. The engineering crew had arrived to mark out the new trails, and the architect had finally submitted satisfactory plans for the base village. The old buildings were being renovated, too, and Nick leapt at the opportunity to burn off his frustrations with hammer and saw. Now, if only physical exertion could help him forget how stricken Chelsea had looked, he'd be fine.

  But he couldn't. Right in the middle of a job, up on a roof replacing shingles, Nick would find himself recalling her startled gray eyes when he'd turned on her, the confusion in her voice, the sheen of tears. Either she was a very good actress, or…

  No. Nick couldn't accept the fact that Chelsea was as guileless as she looked or that his being thrown together with a child with terminal cancer was merely a coincidence. Yet, as the week passed and his uneasiness continued, Nick wondered if he wasn't the one who had made the mistake.

  Oddly, he longed more than ever to be living on his own, and he doubled his efforts to locate an apartment. He knew he should be thankful to have the Lockwood home open to him, but the truth was, he couldn't stand staying there anymore. It was the formality of the house. It was having to spend the evening with the man he'd worked side by side with all that day. Sure, that was it.

  But when Nick faced himself in the mirror after a restless night of dreaming about Chelsea, he knew there was more to his discontent than that. His only consolation was that he recognized the absurdity of the attraction. Chelsea was everything he didn't want in a woman. He would just keep his distance until the fascination passed. And it would. Nothing like that ever lasted.

  In the meantime, the thing he had to do was pay more attention to Grace. So he watched TV with her one evening. They played cards on another. But by Saturday, when they could've spent the entire day together, he took Katie shopping instead.

  She needed summer clothes, and this was a perfect time to shop, before everything got picked over. Grace offered to come along, but as tactfully as possible Nick declined. He enjoyed his time alone with Katie. She was growing too fast, and he feared it wouldn't be long before she wouldn't want to shop with him at all.

  They were strolling through a mall in Pittsfield when thoughts of Chelsea returned to haunt him. There was no reason it happened there and then; Katie was chattering on about the virtues of pistachio ice cream, and he was trying not to drop any of their purchases, when suddenly he heard Chelsea's voice swirling through his busy brain. I wish you'd explain. What's got you so upset?

  He shook his head, but the voice was only replaced by a vision of her tear-bright eyes, her small, full mouth trying to be so brave. Perhaps he'd jumped to conclusions. Perhaps she wasn't the schemer he figured her to be, after all.

  He resumed a purposeful stride. He should take Grace out tonight, to dinner or the movies. She'd like that. They hadn't been anywhere in ages.

  "Dad, I have to go to the bathroom," Katie interrupted. They were outside the mall washrooms.

  "Sure. Can you manage by yourself?"

  "Dad! What do you think I am? A baby?"

  Nick smiled. "Of course not."

  Handicapped? Chelsea's voice taunted him. He leaned against the wall of the adjacent store, feeling exhausted. Maybe he did coddle Katie too much, but so what?

  As if she were a devil on his shoulder, Chelsea whispered back, She needs to get on with her life.

  Nick turned aside as if trying to avoid a real physical presence and concentrated on a display window instead. The window belonged to a jewelry store. Good, he thought. Maybe he should start looking for a ring for Grace.

  There were no engagement rings in this particular display, however, only hand-tooled silver—earrings, belts, necklaces. One-of-a-kind, slightly left-of-center items like the things Chelsea usually wore. Damn! he swore, swinging away. She had no right invading his life like this. No right at all.

  Grace thought a movie was a wonderful idea. A Disney classic was being rerun at the local theater, and she assured Nick it was a movie they'd enjoy as much as Katie.

  The three of them were just getting out of Nick's car when a red Corvette pulled into the adjacent parking slot.

  "Oh, look. It's Chelsea!" Katie exclaimed, running over.

  After a week of thinking about Chelsea, Nick was ready to believe he really and truly was haunted. Slowly he let his gaze lift over the hood of his car to meet hers. She looked just as awkward as he felt.

  Grace evidently knew the galumphing adolescent Chelsea was with. She introduced him to Nick as Ted McGillis.

  "Which movie are you going to?" Ted asked. Nick didn't know why he disliked Ted. He'd never even met him before.

  "The cartoon," Katie answered.

  Ted replied, "Hey, us, too."

  They'd have to sit in the same theater? Nick's heart plummeted. His eyes linked with Chelsea's again, just for a second before she glanced away. She looked tired and upset, as if she'd had a bad week. Nick's insides twisted.

  "Chelsea, I want to thank you for having Nickie and Katie over for dinner the other night." Grace was by Chelsea's side, walking toward the theater entrance.

  "I-it was nothing."

  "Oh, it was. When Nickie moved here, he didn't know anybody, and now he has so many friends. What you've done means a lot to me."

  Walking behind, Nick saw Chelsea rubbing her palms along her trousers. "What I've done?"

  "Yes. You introduced him to your family, and from the way Katie goes on, they obviously made her and Nickie feel very welcome. Katie loved your spaghetti sauce, too. You'll have to give me the recipe."

  "Oh…oh, sure."

  Tonight Chelsea was wearing ordinary navy trousers and a white silk shirt, but in her inimitable fashion she'd tied a colorful scarf around her shoulders, which rendered the outfit anything but ordinary. He watched the blouse shimmer under the parking-lot lights…watched the sweet, light sway of her hips. Maybe it wasn't so much the scarf, he thought…

  Grace was still going on—about what? he wondered distractedly.

  "I was so afraid he wouldn't like living here, and maybe, well, we'd have to move." Grace's voice lowered but not enough to escape Nick's hearing. He tensed, resenting the assumptions Grace was making.

  "But now," she continued, "I think he's ready to stay and sink roots."

  "I doubt it's because of anything I did, Grace."

  Nick noticed how proudly Chelsea tossed her head, and he would've smiled if he didn't feel so sad, so guilty.

  As luck would have it, the theater was half-empty, and they all ended up sitting together. However, Nick did manage to claim the seat at one end of their party, just as Chelsea claimed the seat at the other.

  The lights dimmed and the movie began. Nick tried to lose himself in the film—he usually could—but the magic didn't work this time. He remained as aware of Chelsea as if she were up there on the screen.

  About halfway through the film, he chanced a look down the row of seats, past Katie and Grace and Ted. He'd been drawn to looking toward Chelsea at least a dozen times already, but this time she returned his stare. Even in the darkness of the theater he could feel the power of her eyes, and something clutched at his breath. Suddenly he had so much he wanted to tell her: that he was a jackass for jumping to conclusions, that he shouldn't have accused her of manipulating him, that he wished she would stop being so hurt and would smile.

  He didn't realize Grace was also looking at him until it was too late and she'd taken a glance at Chelsea, too. He sat back, his ears burning, and fixed his unseeing gaze on the screen. Lord, how he wished he'd brought an antacid. />
  When the film ended, Nick moved out into the aisle and let Katie and Grace walk ahead of him. With a feeling of delicious recklessness, he let Ted pass, too. And finally Chelsea was beside him, where he'd wanted her all along.

  She tried to slip by into the crush of people crowding the aisle, but Nick found her wrist nonetheless. She froze. Her pulse beneath his fingers quickened. He leaned closer, until the intoxicating fragrance of her hair enveloped him, and whispered, "I'm sorry." Her eyes met his, startled, questioning. At that moment, they might've been the only two people in the place.

  There was no time for further conversation, however. Grace had turned against the tide of exiters to search him out, her jaw clenched tight. He loosened his grip and Chelsea hurried off, carried by that tide.

  Eleven-thirty, and Chelsea was sitting on the sagging sofa in her living room, sipping a mug of hot milk. She was tired. She'd asked Ted to bring her home right after the movie and had gone to bed, but she'd just lain there, wide-eyed and restless and unable to get her mind off Nick. She couldn't even shake the feeling of his fingers on her wrist.

  It had been a terrible week. Nick's anger the night of their balloon flight had left her unable to sleep or eat. But tonight he'd changed. His eyes were softer, and when he'd whispered, "I'm sorry," she'd almost found herself in tears.

  Did this mean he really was sorry? That he might bring Katie by again to see the kittens? And would she and Nick talk and let their newfound friendship continue to unfold?

  She groaned, dropping her head into her hand. Nick Tanner was on her mind too much altogether. She had to get a grip on this situation. On this fantasy. She was bound to make a fool of herself if she didn't. Perhaps she already had. Grace had seemed upset tonight when she'd caught her and Nick exchanging glances. The woman wasn't blind.

  But how one got a grip on a crush—and a crush was all this was—Chelsea had no idea. She'd just have to try until it wore itself out.

  She was startled by a knock at her front door.

  "Chelsea?"

  She stood up like a shot. There was no mistaking that voice, even when it was just a raspy whisper.