New Lease on Love Read online

  She threw open the door. "Nick, what on earth… ?"

  "Hi." His lips twitched with a strained smile.

  Chelsea could barely put two coherent thoughts together. Only the one kept surfacing from her emotional turmoil: He's here, he's here. It pulsed through her like the beat of her heart. He's here. He's here.

  "Oh, I'm sorry." His gaze flicked over her nightgown. "I thought you just came in. I went by a little while ago and didn't see any lights." He backed away.

  "It's okay. Come in."

  "It's nothing, really. I had to go up to Pine Ridge. The fire station called, but it was a false alarm, and on my way back I saw your light and figured I'd stop in for that recipe. You know, the one you and Grace were talking about?" He jammed his hands into his pockets and looked everywhere but at her.

  "Come in, Nick."

  He stepped into the dimly lit hall, and they both stopped again, uncertain. He was dressed as he had been earlier at the movies, in his tan trousers, white shirt and brown knit tie.

  Chelsea felt an ache near to bursting in her lungs, a sensation that only increased as he raked in her appearance. She'd dashed to the door without her robe or slippers. She hadn't even run her fingers through her hair.

  One corner of Nick's mouth lifted slowly. In approval? she wondered. Her long cotton gown with its yards of Victorian lace was hardly a garment to cause such a smile.

  "Come into the living room and have a seat. I'll go get the recipe and be right back."

  She returned within seconds, notepad and recipe in hand. "I hope nothing serious happened up at Pine Ridge…" She threw an afghan around herself before settling on the couch.

  "No. Some teenagers just pulled an alarm." He sat across the room from her, at least eight feet away, but Chelsea felt a heat over her skin as if his gaze were a physical caress.

  Pulling in a shuddering breath, she bent to copy the recipe.

  "As long as I'm here… I'm glad I stopped by… It gives me the chance…"

  She peeked up through the dark shock of hair falling over her eyes. Nick was sitting on the edge of the cushion, tapping his fingertips together. "Yes, Nick?"

  He stood up, paced a few steps, then came and sat beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body, the hardness of his thigh, even through the afghan.

  "I had to come over tonight, Chelse. I had to finish what I started to say in the theater. I knew I'd never get to sleep unless I did." He turned to face her more directly, bracing his arm along the back of the sofa.

  "I don't want any more apologies, Nick," she whispered. "What I want is an explanation, why you were angry with me. Did you actually think I plotted to get you and Heather together to… to teach you a lesson?"

  He glanced away and nodded.

  "The idea never crossed my mind."

  "I know. But at the time… just a couple of days before, we'd argued about my attitude toward Katie. I could still hear you telling me I was her biggest handicap."

  Chelsea winced.

  "I figured you wanted me to meet Heather to give me a sense of perspective. I got angry 'cause I thought you were trying to manipulate me. I also got angry because you dared challenge the way I was raising my daughter." He hesitated, the hard cast of his expression fading into sorrow. "But mostly I was angry because you'd made me share two hours with a wonderful little girl who probably won't see her next birthday. You'd made me get to know her and like her."

  "I understand what you're saying."

  "Do you?"

  Chelsea gazed into his troubled eyes and nodded.

  He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick, tight squeeze. "I don't know how you handle it. Do you come across many kids in Heather's condition?"

  "Yes, unfortunately, and I don't always 'handle' it. I've messed up quite a few times."

  "How so?"

  "Oh, you know…" Chelsea shrugged.

  "No. Explain."

  "Well, last summer, for instance. It was the third time this kid named Curt was flying with me. A cute little blond. Seven years old. He was in the last stages of leukemia, and I'd grown too attached, but I decided to take him up, anyway. I thought I'd been around these kids long enough not to be upset. But then he went and asked me a question that completely knocked the wind out of me."

  "I remember the moment distinctly. We were drifting near Tanglewood. The evening was warm, golden, like the evening you went up, and the orchestra below was playing The New World Symphony. We could hear the music so well, that haunting second movement. Do you know it?"

  Nick nodded.

  "And then, clear out of the blue, Curt looked up at me and asked if that was how he was going to feel when he was an angel."

  Nick stroked the length of her arm. "Why do you do it, Chelsea. These kids aren't your responsibility. You must lose a helluva lot of money because of them, too."

  "Beats me. Except that they give me such joy. I love helping them forget their troubles. I love seeing their eyes light up."

  Nick smiled understandingly. "Ballooning's an incredible experience. I was bowled over by it."

  "Were you really?"

  "Yes." He removed his arm from her shoulder and sat forward, elbows on his knees. His smile slowly dropped until all the lines in his expression were pensive. "I have another confession to make regarding the way I blew up at you, Chelse. I didn't want to learn the lesson I thought you were trying to ram down my throat. I didn't want to accept the fact that Katie's a strong, healthy kid. As I saw it, if I continued to think she was disabled, I could go on protecting her, but if I accepted the fact that she's okay, I'd have to let go. I'd have to let her take chances, and that scares me, Chelse. It damn near terrifies me."

  "I know." Chelsea reached out and stroked his rough cheek. He leaned in to her touch, just before their eyes met. She was startled by the realization of what she was doing. She yanked her hand back and prayed he'd forget the moment.

  "But scared or not," he resumed, "I have no right to put her in a cage."

  "True, but don't go overboard on me now. I've been thinking about what you said, about educating her at home, and you're right. It's exactly what she needs in order to catch up to her grade level. She'd never do it in school."

  "Yes. But I've been thinking about what you said, too, about her needing to socialize, and I'd like her back in a regular classroom as soon as she has caught up."

  Chelsea smiled. "Nice compromise, Mr. Tanner. When we put our heads together, we make a mighty impressive team." As soon as the words were out, she felt her cheeks grow hot. How forward that sounded. "H-have you reconsidered my taking her for a ride in my balloon?" she asked quickly.

  Nick laughed. "I can't let go of all my hang-ups at once."

  "Does that mean you might some time in the future?"

  Nick reached for her and pulled her across his body in a rough bear hug. "Will you give me a break!"

  Chelsea's shriek ended in a laugh.

  "Shh. You're going to wake the neighbors."

  "Serves you right. I hope they call the police," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

  She gripped his tie as she righted herself and, too late, heard him choking. "I'm sorry, Nick."

  "You're going to be the death of me yet."

  "Well, who in their right mind wears a tie at this time of night, anyway?" She turned to face him more comfortably, legs tucked Indian-style, and reached for the knot. "Mind if I at least loosen it?"

  "Be my guest," he answered, grinning. "I haven't been undressed by a woman in at least… well, too long."

  Her fingers fumbled and burned as they accidentally brushed the warm skin above his collar, but finally the knot slackened, and as she slowly unfastened it, her eyes lifted to his. What she saw made her heart slam against her ribs.

  Whether it was his steady, smoldering gaze or the hungry curve of his mouth, she wasn't sure, but something was making her feel as if… as if he were pulling her into him-self. And she wanted to go, to
lose herself in the heady attraction. She'd never felt so drawn to a man before. No one had ever made her tremble as she was doing now.

  Dear Lord! What was happening here? She pulled back, repositioned the afghan around her shoulders and retrieved the notepad that had slipped to the floor. But no amount of effort could stop her heart from racing.

  Nick sat back, too, and cleared his throat. "Who was that guy you were with tonight?"

  "Ted? Nice body, huh? He works at the health club." Why was she baiting him? she wondered. And why did he look so put out?

  "Dating long?"

  "Mmm. Since sixth grade." Nick's reaction pleased her inordinately. "Ted's a good friend. We go out occasionally as friends, but that's all."

  "Oh." He seemed to be working at indifference. "How's business been?"

  "Pretty good." She held the recipe toward the lamp, then bent to her scribbling again. "I ran a few newspaper ads last week. They've already paid off."

  "Well, great. You should do that more often."

  "Nick, I know what I should do. If I had the wherewithal to advertise the way I want and to buy the equipment I need, I'd double profits in no time."

  Nick's gaze was like a searchlight. "Really?"

  "Of course."

  "Then do it. What's keeping you?"

  "I told you. The wherewithal."

  "Borrow it." He spoke as if walking into a loan office was as easy as whistling.

  She laughed. "You're a very strange man, Nick Tanner."

  "How so?"

  "In your personal life, you're cautious to a fault, but when it comes to business, Chet was right, you take the wildest chances."

  "They are not wild."

  "Yes, they are, and that grin on your face tells me you know it, too. What's more, I think you love it."

  "Well, if I'm strange, so are you, Miss Lawton. For someone who makes her living in such a risky, flamboyant way, you're mighty careful—no, fearful—when it comes to the business end of it."

  Chelsea chewed on her pen, realizing he was right. But she had to be cautious. Too many loan payments, one month of bad weather, and she'd go under. The move alone was going to set her back.

  Nick reached over and turned her face toward his. She shuddered with the effort to conceal her reaction.

  "I hope we're not heading into another argument."

  Chelsea shrugged.

  "Please, let's not."

  "Fine by me."

  The smile he returned sent heat even to her toes. She ducked her head and continued writing.

  "Oh, I found an apartment," he said.

  "You did! Where?"

  "Over on Pierce Road. Top floor of a duplex."

  Chelsea was surprised by how pleased she was.

  "It's perfect for me and Katie. Until we find a house."

  "What kind of place will you be looking for—when you're ready to buy, I mean."

  "Oh, I don't know. Something big. Something with substance, with a feeling of generations having lived there. Bookcases, window seats, cupboards… I have a thing about built-in nooks and odd corners. I don't know why." He thought a moment. "Maybe it's because I grew up in a two-bedroom tenement with two sisters and had to sleep on the living-room couch till I was twenty-two."

  Chelsea sat dumbstruck. Finally she just laughed.

  "What's so funny?"

  "I thought you were wealthy, Nick."

  "Pardon me, but I am."

  "I mean, I thought you grew up wealthy." She looked at him askance. "You're putting me on. You are, aren't you?"

  Chelsea loved the sound of his laugh, loved the glint of lamplight caressing his strong features.

  "Afraid not, Chelse." His smile slowly faded.

  "Was it tough, Nick?"

  "Uh, no. Well, not always. Mostly it was dreary. My parents both worked in mills, one job or another, nothing ever lasting too long."

  "Are they still living?"

  Nick shook his head.

  "I'm sorry." She hated the idea of Nick's being alone in the world. "They couldn't have been that old."

  "No, just worn out."

  "But you say you have two sisters?"

  "Mmm. Cindy and Barbara. Cindy's doing okay. She married a guy from Gloucester, a lobsterman. They have two kids. Barbara, though—devil only knows where she is. She ran off when she was seventeen."

  "And you haven't seen her since?"

  "No. I hired a detective, but so far… Hey, why am I telling you all this? I'm sure you don't want to hear the story of my life."

  "But I do. I had no idea. It makes what you've become that much more impressive."

  "You think I'm impressive?" He leered comically. "You should've seen me during my mover-and-shaker days."

  "Do you miss it? Boston?"

  "No. I was ready for a change. Besides, I wanted to bring Katie here. Growing up in a city's no picnic."

  "And, of course, there's Grace. This is her home."

  Chelsea swore she saw Nick's face jump with a nervous tic. "Yes, of course." he said.

  She sat contemplating his frown, then, hardly realizing she was speaking, she blurted, "Do you love Grace?"

  His back straightened as if he'd been prodded with a cold knife. "What kind of question is that?"

  She blushed furiously. "A pretty impudent one, it seems. Forget I said anything. Please."

  But she couldn't forget, and neither could he.

  "Grace is a wonderful woman. She's intelligent, sensible…old-fashioned, too, and I mean that in the nicest sense of the word. She enjoys keeping house. She enjoys fussing over the people in her life. I'm not a chauvinist, but I still find it charming that she cares so much about tending to a family."

  Chelsea couldn't help but notice how stiff he was sitting, how little inflection was in his voice. And of course he hadn't answered her question.

  "Is Grace anything like your first wife?"

  "Like Laura? Hell, no! Now there was one dizzy blonde."

  "I… I don't have to ask if you loved her."

  "No," he agreed with a resigned sigh. "I loved her all right. I thought she was the most exciting thing to come down the pike."

  "What was she like?" The conversation had turned more intimate than she'd ever imagined possible, yet somehow she knew it was all right.

  "Hmm. What was she like? Well, she was five foot seven, blonde, blue-eyed—a real knockout, I guess you could say. You could also say she was a rebel from a well-to-do family. A sleek thoroughbred who chose to run with the pack. She had a degree in philosophy, rode a mean little Harley and had a rose tattooed on her left cheek." He slapped his thigh so there'd be no mistaking which "cheek" he meant.

  Chelsea clutched her arms, feeling increasingly inadequate, and she wasn't even in a position that warranted comparison. "Tough act to follow."

  "I was awfully young when I married Laura. I'm not looking for that kind of excitement anymore. That's not the stuff marriages are made of, not lasting marriages."

  Chelsea nodded as if she agreed, and she did to a point, but she couldn't help thinking that Nick was selling himself short. He didn't look particularly happy when he talked about Grace, even when he extolled her virtues, and when they were together, they didn't seem like a couple in love. They were courteous to each other, and maybe even compatible enough to pull off a peaceful marriage, but was that all Nick wanted out of life? Was it enough?

  "Are you done with that?"

  Chelsea glanced at the notepad and vaguely thought of adding a few more ingredients. "Uh… yes."

  Nick took it from her and stared at it awhile. "You really ought to kick me out now." He looked up with a heart-melting grin. "Haven't I kept you up long enough?"

  No! she wanted to cry. She wasn't in the least bit tired. But Nick was getting to his feet, so she did, too. The knit blanket slid to the floor, and she didn't bother to pick it up.

  Nick's gaze roamed over her shoulders, down her arms, to her waifish, bare feet. "Even for bed you need someone to dress you."<
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  A shaft of disappointment ripped through her. "What's wrong with this?" She plucked at her cotton nightgown.

  "It's not any one thing. You're a whole package, Chelse." He reached out and, with a touch soft as a whisper, raised her chin. "A very nice package." Chelsea was sure her feet lifted off the floor.

  They walked out to the porch where Nick paused, his brow furrowed. "Before I go…" He slid a hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small box embossed with the name of an expensive Pittsfield jeweler. "I went shopping with Katie today, and these happened to catch my eye." He folded Chelsea's fingers around the box. "It isn't much, just a token of my appreciation."

  With hands that visibly shook, Chelsea removed the lid. Shining on a field of blue velvet was a pair of silver earrings, large hoops encircling a filigree tree. "Oh, they're beautiful, Nick." She lifted one and examined it in the pale moonlight. "But why?"

  Nick shrugged his broad shoulders, slightly embarrassed. "As I said, they're a token of my appreciation. Whether you meant to or not, you did give me a new perspective on Katie. The clerk said that's a tree-of-life pattern, which I thought was kind of appropriate in this situation."

  Chelsea was determined not to let the tears in her eyes spill over. She concentrated instead on putting the earrings on. Without a mirror, though, her efforts were frustrating.

  "Let me." Nick took an earring in one hand, then gently brushed back her hair with the other. Holding her steady, he slipped the silver wire through the tiny pierced spot on her lobe. His touch was exquisite torture. Chelsea closed her eyes, felt her body turn fluid, as he turned her face to the other side.

  "There, not bad."

  Slowly, she opened her eyes, vaguely wondering why his hands were still on her neck, thumbs slowly stroking the hot skin along her jawline. Long moments passed as she gazed into his eyes and tried to gather her senses. But she couldn't. She was mesmerized by the smoky look he wore, the hunger of his mouth.

  She sensed he was fighting for control, struggling with demons—and rapidly losing ground. As she was. Suddenly he pulled her into his arms with the fierceness of release, and his mouth ground down upon hers. Not a gentle kiss; he seemed to want to devour her. He groaned and whispered her name and went on kissing her, like a man too long denied.