New Lease on Love Page 13

  "Nick, how are things coming along at Pine Ridge?" Larry inquired, fastening a bib around his daughter's neck.

  Nick leaned slightly forward to answer, and his arm came in contact with Chelsea's. Neither of them seemed to breathe. He said something, and Larry said something back, but it was all a blur. Chelsea's whole existence centered on that warm, secret touch.

  Suddenly she felt someone's attention. She glanced up to find her sister-in-law, Mimi, looking from her to Nick with an astonished little smile. Chelsea snapped to immediately. She was doing it. Somehow she was letting her feelings for Nick show. She folded her hands in her lap and assumed as sedate an expression as possible.

  She picked up the conversation at "…so, you figure construction'll start sometime next month?"

  "Next month!" Chelsea swung around to catch Nick's nod. "Do I have to be out of the house that soon?"

  Nick's gaze seemed to caress her. "Not yet."

  She felt mesmerized, caught within a communication she didn't understand. She wanted to be angry with him; she wanted to fight, but couldn't.

  "I hope you realize how difficult you've made Chelsea's life." Mini's coy glance gave Chelsea the impression she was testing them.

  "How so?" he asked.

  "Well, it's obvious she'll never find a place as reasonable or as well situated as the house she's in now. Her business is bound to suffer."

  Chelsea's cheeks grew hot. This was not a subject she cared to get into.

  "Not if she broadens her horizons," Nick replied.

  "How's she supposed to do that?" Mimi chewed on a smile as he moved his arm along the back of Chelsea's chair.

  "Nick thinks I should become bolder in my business approach," Chelsea offered sardonically. "So, what do you figure? Full-color, tri-fold brochures placed in tourist centers across seven states? A couple of twelve-passenger gondolas and that new van I've been salivating over for two years?"

  Nick's eyes glittered. "Go on and laugh, but sometimes a person has to go out on a limb in order to—"

  "—fall flat on her face," Chelsea finished.

  Their food arrived just then, and Nick dropped the subject until they'd all dug in. "Regarding Chelsea's business… I think she should consider other options."

  "Like what?" Larry handed the baby a soft piece of cheese.

  "Like contracting with a few bed-and-breakfasts in the area and offering a ballooning tour."

  "A what?" Chelsea didn't care for the serious turn this conversation had taken.

  "A tour. Passengers could be ballooned from one B-and-B to the next…"

  "Sure." Larry nodded in agreement. "You could arrange sight-seeing trips when they land, side trips into shopping areas…"

  Chelsea noticed Mimi watching her and Nick again. She had a distinct What's-going-on-with-you-two? look in her eyes.

  Rob put down his beer. "What Chelsea really should do is get herself invited into Pine Ridge."

  Chelsea swallowed her pizza with a loud gulp.

  "What do you mean?" Nick's dark brows nearly met.

  "Hasn't it occurred to you? Lots of ski areas have hot-air balloons as an added feature. Steamboat Springs in Colorado, for instance. They do it up real big."

  "He's right." Larry chuckled. "But you'd better do it fast, before the idea becomes old hat. I was just reading about some place in the Adirondacks that's going to be offering balloon flights soon."

  Chelsea knew the place. She'd seen their ad for pilots in a trade magazine just days ago.

  But Nick didn't have room for Balloon the Berkshires at Pine Ridge, and more importantly, he didn't have the inclination. Chelsea's eyes pleaded with her family to quit the joke.

  The waitress appeared again. "Can I get you folks anything else?"

  "Yes, the children want ice cream." Nick seemed relieved to be interrupted.

  Conversation veered onto safer subjects after that, and soon it was just another Saturday night with her family, children making perhaps too much noise, Rob and Judy trading off sick jokes, everyone warm and comfortable with each other—including Nick, she noticed with an oddly piercing pleasure. He really looked relaxed, loosened like she'd never seen him before. It wasn't just the jeans and sweatshirt he was wearing. There was a lightheartedness—a glow—that had nothing to do with his clothes.

  Music was still pulsing from the old jukebox, one classic rock-and-roll number after another. When "Johnny Be Good" came on, Nick pushed back his chair. "Hell! How can anybody sit when that song's playing? I've got to dance. Someone here humor me, please." He stood up and held a hand toward Chelsea, one eyebrow cocked in the most knee-weakening invitation she'd ever encountered.

  She was out of her seat in a flash.

  It was uncanny how well they danced together, she thought as the loud, driving music enveloped them. She anticipated every move he made. When the record finished, he guided her over to the jukebox, his arm never leaving her waist, and slipped in another coin. Laughing, they started to dance again.

  By the time they returned to the table, her cheeks were red-hot and she was almost out of breath. Everyone cheered them with a noisy round of applause.

  "What a bunch of rowdies," Chelsea chided. Even the baby was clapping. Chelsea kissed her plump cheek and sat down, sighing happily. "You got the check? Oh, great. This should be rich. Get out the calculator, Lar."

  Her laughter died, however, when she realized Mimi was no longer the only one giving her and Nick a curious look. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to calm down. Maybe she shouldn't have danced with Nick; at least she shouldn't have been so eager. She searched her heart for feelings of remorse, but there were none to be found. Dancing with him had been too much fun. It had felt too right.

  She thought of the guys she sometimes dated. They were all handsome, popular, yet she'd never been attracted to them the way she was to Nick. She'd known a few since childhood, but they still weren't as close. They were convenient, that's what they were; always available when she needed a date.

  Well, that wasn't enough anymore. In spite of everything she'd ever said about not wanting a relationship because of her business, she wasn't satisfied just biding her time. She wanted to get on with the real thing. She wanted to be like her brother and sister, to share her life with someone she loved and have a home of her own, a real home. And Lord, how she longed for kids. She'd never dreamed she'd ever want them this much. But most of all she wanted the breathless excitement she'd felt in Nick's arms. She wanted…

  Chelsea started. What had she just called it? The real thing? She turned her eyes on Nick just as he looked at her. Yes, it did feel real, didn't it? Real and forever. It felt like they should be leaving together, going home somewhere. She could see them spending another evening like this in five years, and another in twenty-five. Real. Forever. Good heavens, she was in love with Nick Tanner! In that brief exchange of glances, the realization struck her with all the certainty of a freight train. She loved him.

  She had the feeling he might be able to love her, too, if only he'd give himself the chance, but that didn't seem likely. He'd obviously formed an idea of the perfect wife, and Grace Lockwood, for some reason, fit the bill.

  "Well, if you folks don't mind, we're going to be heading home," Rob said.

  "Yeah, us, too," Mimi added. "Nick, will Chelsea be dropping you and Katie off?"

  A slight tension buzzed the air. Chelsea knew everyone was opening the way for her and Nick to be together. All they had to do was walk into the invitation.

  "Uh… I don't think so. Larry, would you give us a lift? We're more on your way."

  Chelsea didn't look at anyone. Nick, of course, was making the right decision. They'd shared a pleasant evening, but now it was time to get back to reality. A few covert glances, a dance or two…but he had to return to Grace.

  Chelsea reeled with confusion. What kind of game was he playing? How could they share so much, and Grace still hold claim to his heart?

  Apparently, Grace had some
thing that Nick needed, and Chelsea wished she knew what it was.

  "Good night, Chelse," he called as he and Katie followed Larry across the parking lot.

  She waved, but he never turned around.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Almost a week passed before Chelsea talked to Nick again.

  "Hi, Chelsea? Nick."

  In her joy, she almost dropped the phone. "Hi."

  "Hi. Listen, I have a favor to ask. Your van is running okay these days, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  "May I borrow it?"

  She tried to steady her breathing. "Depends on when."

  "Tomorrow afternoon."

  "Fine by me."

  "Great. I have a few things back in Boston I'd like to get out of storage. Summer clothes, my stereo, stuff like that. Nothing that'll do in your shocks or springs."

  "I'm not concerned." She wondered why he was borrowing her old clunker. He could afford a fleet of U-Hauls.

  "Chelsea?"

  She didn't answer right away. She loved hearing him say her name and didn't want to spoil the afterglow. "Yes."

  "I have another favor to ask. Can I borrow you, too?"

  "What did you say?"

  "I'm having the gas turned on at my apartment tomorrow, and since I won't be there, I was wondering if…"

  "If I could wait around hours and hours for the gas man to show up."

  "Yes."

  "What's in it for me?" She rested her forehead against the window and smiled at the lilacs bobbing in the late May breeze.

  "How about… Chinese?"

  "Do I get fortune cookies, too?"

  "I guess."

  "And do you guarantee I'll get the fortune I want?"

  "Absolutely!"

  "Then you've got yourself a deal."

  There, they were at it again, bantering like a couple of junior-high sweethearts. But why? Nick was a pretty savvy guy. He must sense what was happening. Did he just enjoy leading her on? she wondered. No, being a flirt wasn't in his nature. Then, did he really feel something for her but not know what to do about it? Was he torn, straddling a fence?

  "What time do you need the van?"

  "Twelve, one o'clock?"

  "Okay. I'll have it ready."

  "Uh, Chelse?"

  "What?" She was afraid she'd say something stupid if they didn't cut this short.

  "It might be easier if you come by the apartment and I take the van from there."

  "Oh, right."

  "I can leave you my car."

  "Makes sense."

  "So, tomorrow."

  "Yes, around noon."

  "Chelse?"

  "Yes?" Her voice whispered with anticipation. How she wanted to stay on the line.

  "How've you been?"

  She closed her eyes, silently answering, Terrible. I'm in love with you. What she let herself say was "Fine."

  "Well, good. Okay, then I'll see you tomorrow."

  She nodded and hung up the phone.

  Where was she? Nick wondered for the hundredth time that hour. He turned from the window and paced. Not that Chelsea was late; he was simply overeager.

  Nick forced himself to sit in one of the club chairs that came with the apartment. He told himself the only business he had with Chelsea today was her van, but his fingers kept tapping the upholstered arm, and his heart knew better.

  Ever since they'd taken Katie ballooning, he'd been wondering when he could see her again. She'd driven him crazy that evening. He hadn't expected his reaction to be so strong, but he should have. Every time he was with her it got worse, and that evening in the restaurant, he'd had all he could do to keep track of conversation and hide the thoughts and urges that were straining to be released.

  Sometime during that evening, he'd decided he'd have to talk to Grace. He couldn't go on pretending he was interested in marrying her. At the moment he wasn't interested in marrying anyone. He and Katie would do just fine on their own.

  Right now what he needed was the freedom to explore the excitement Chelsea was raising in his blood. He'd have to be careful, of course. Theirs was only a physical attraction, and he refused to let it grow into anything more. Loving someone, being totally involved in and responsible for another person's life—that was still a scenario he wanted to avoid.

  This fire in his blood, though—he wouldn't fight it anymore. It had been so long since he'd felt it, so long since he'd felt anything except the need to work and provide and be responsible. He'd forgotten that he could feel, or that he needed to in order to be whole.

  Nick knew that whatever he and Chelsea shared could go nowhere, but he didn't think she'd mind. She'd told him herself she wasn't interested in serious relationships. Her top priority was her business. They'd talk about it this evening when he got back. That was the best way, being open, get-ting the ground rules straight before they embarked on anything.

  He only wished he'd gotten to talk to Grace first. He'd fully intended to, the night he and Katie returned from the restaurant. He'd put Katie to bed and gone down to look for Grace, but apparently she'd already turned in. And then the next evening, when he'd been waiting for her to join him in the den, he'd happened upon her old yearbook. Chelsea's yearbook, too. By the time Grace had walked in, he'd been so lost in his obsession to unearth Chelsea's past, every last photo, every activity, boyfriend, prom dress, favorite song…

  He'd looked up, startled, caught, but Grace had startled him even more by breaking into a smile. "Checking to see what I looked like ten years ago?" He hadn't had the heart to say no.

  A vehicle came to a stop below his front window. Nick shot from his chair and peered down to the curb. Chelsea was just getting out of her van, looking more beautiful than he remembered. The earth began to spin as crazily as his heart was pounding. He would definitely have to talk to Grace soon.

  "Hi, come on in."

  Chelsea stepped over the threshold, her big gray eyes scanning the living room. "Hmm. Very nice."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. Here, I brought you some flowers. A house-warming gift." Her dark lashes fluttered as she cast her eyes down. With self-consciousness? Nick wondered.

  "Thank you. I've never received flowers from a lady before. Let me put them in water."

  "They're for the house. The apartment, I mean." Yes, she was definitely nervous. "When are you moving in?"

  "I might stay here tonight."

  "Grace is going to miss you."

  Nick shrugged evasively as he set the flowers on the coffee table. Chelsea was wearing a pink shirt today the exact shade as her cheeks. It was oversized but still didn't hide the most enticingly fitted jeans he'd ever beheld. He'd better be leaving, if he wanted to leave at all.

  "Well, I'm off." He flipped her keys in his hand. "The trip should take at lease five hours, maybe six."

  "Don't speed."

  "I won't. My car's out front, keys on the kitchen table. If the gas man finishes up early and you want to go home…" Nick didn't finish the sentence. He couldn't bear the idea of her not being here when he got back.

  Chelsea's eyes roamed Nick's apartment. He'd chosen a lovely place, even though it was only transitional—large, sunny, beautifully furnished. She strolled from room to room. His rooms, where he'd eat and sleep and play with Katie. She paused in the kitchen doorway, savoring an image of him sitting at the table. Dreamily, she walked in and, thinking of all the meals that would be prepared here, brushed her fingers over the counter.

  Immediately she pulled her hand back. The counter wasn't the cleanest thing in the world, she noticed in surprise. Neither was the stove. She surveyed the rest of the appliances, then returned to the living room. Actually, the whole place was in need of a cleaning, and it grieved her to think of Nick and Katie—especially Katie—moving into a place that wasn't ready.

  Tonight? Did he really mean to stay here tonight? There wasn't a crumb of food in the kitchen. Beds weren't made, and the shower stall smelled sour.

  She opened the ca
binet under the bathroom sink. But of course. The one thing the landlord had provided was lots of cleaning products. Smiling in disbelief at what she was about to do, Chelsea reached for a scrub brush.

  Nick had gotten rid of most of his furniture when he sold his house. Still, the little he'd kept filled the van, and packing it took longer than he expected. He'd have to skip that visit to the bank he'd vaguely planned—which was just as well; he wasn't dressed for hobnobbing with his old friends. Besides, catching up on the latest scuttlebutt didn't seem all that important anymore, and between Boston and the Berkshires lay a mighty long piece of road.

  Nick kept to the speed limit because he was driving Chelsea's van, but never for a minute did he stop wanting to floor the gas pedal. By the time he reached the foothills, he wished the damn thing could fly. Boston wasn't home anymore. It was just a big, busy city where once he'd happened to live. The Berkshires was where he belonged now, this timeless area of mountains and lakes, of covered bridges and Norman Rockwell villages, of new friends and work that was finally satisfying. And Chelsea.

  He smiled as he thought of the evening ahead. His stereo equipment was jiggling somewhere at the back of the van, along with his collection of music. He would set that up first thing, and as they ate he'd gradually expose her to the fact that he had a thing about Brazilian music. But it would be all right if she didn't like sambas. He had rock. He had classical. Anything she wanted.

  He had gone a little overboard at the Chinese restaurant, he decided, grinning at the three brown bags on the seat beside him. But he wasn't sure what she liked, so he'd bought a little of everything.

  That was okay. They had time to eat slowly. All the time in the world. Katie had stayed with Grace this afternoon, but Larry was picking her up for dinner and a "sleepover" at his house.

  He'd suggest they eat in the living room, on the floor. They'd lower the lights, kick off their shoes and settle down to a casual—no, a Bohemian—feast.

  He could see it now, actually felt tension uncoiling just at the thought. It would be laid-back and spontaneous. A Chelsea kind of evening.