New Lease on Love Read online

  Chelsea squared her shoulders. "And after that?"

  "I can't see that far ahead."

  Chelsea's throat ached. She had her answer.

  "Oh, there's something else," Nick said. "Your house."

  "My house?"

  "Yes. We're going to need that, too."

  Chelsea stopped breathing. She couldn't move or think.

  Chet Lockwood looked genuinely distressed now. "Chelsea, will it be that much of a hardship to find another place?"

  Chelsea felt bad for him, but worse for herself. "No, of course not." It was a bald lie.

  "Good. I thought as much."

  "There's one other matter," Nick cut in. "Your billboard."

  Chelsea's sigh came from her toes. "Of course. I'll move it." How and where, she had no idea.

  "If there's anything I can do…" Chet offered.

  She attempted a smile and got to her feet. She had to get out of here. "Thanks. But there's nothing."

  "You're not going yet, are you?" Grace asked.

  "Yes, afraid I have to. I have a charter tomorrow at dawn. A couple celebrating their twenty-fifth anniversary."

  Chet crossed the room and hugged her. "Glad you dropped by." He seemed relieved to have this evening behind him.

  "Chelsea, here. Would you like my picture?" Katie held up the colored page, which she'd torn from the book.

  "You mean it? I can really have it?"

  The little girl beamed.

  "You'll have to sign it, though. An artist should always sign her work."

  "Oh." Katie bit her lip in concentration as she chose a crayon.

  The room was tense, too quiet. "What school will she be going to?" Chelsea asked to fill the void.

  "She… isn't," Nick answered.

  Grace rushed in with an explanation. "Nickie's decided to keep her home awhile. I'm going to tutor her."

  Chelsea suspected she was frowning. Fiercely.

  "Here ya go," Katie sang.

  Chelsea took the page, then watched Nick lift Katie into his arms and step back. The gesture was perfectly normal—a father holding his little girl as they all said goodnight—yet it struck a strange chord. Chelsea had the oddest feeling he was trying to protect his daughter. From her.

  "I hope you won't hold a grudge against Father," Grace whispered out in the hall.

  "How could I? He's always been very kind."

  "But you are upset. Because of Nickie. Don't think ill of him, Chelsea. He was a bit rough on you, but, well… sometimes he gets that way. It's understandable with all he's been through the last few years."

  Chelsea rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the dull pounding behind her eyes. "What do you mean, Grace?"

  "The accident, of course."

  "The one that hurt Katie's leg?"

  Grace nodded. "And killed her mother."

  "Killed… what?"

  "Didn't you know?"

  "No. I'd heard she was dead, but I didn't realize… Oh, how awful!" The hall began to sway as another thought struck her. "Was it a car accident? Was Nick driving?"

  "Heavens, no. It was Katie's mother. She lost control of her motorcycle and went down an embankment."

  "Motorcycle?"

  "Uh-huh. Do you believe it? She must've been a real nut. She used to compete in semipro races. Nickie fought with her about it all the time. He had a very unhappy marriage, you know. Not that he talks about it, but my brother's told me stories. She wasn't much of a wife, either. You can't imagine how appreciative Nickie is of the simplest home-cooked food." Grace tossed her head. "Just as well she's dead. She caused him nothing but misery."

  Chelsea knew she and Nick had their differences, but she couldn't understand how Grace could say such a thing. Losing a wife, having his daughter injured in the same ac… Chelsea felt unaccountably sad for his troubled past.

  Suddenly Chelsea remembered how fierce he'd been last Saturday morning, charging across the field, and just as suddenly she understood. In his eyes, she'd represented a threat to Katie. She'd known it then, but not why or how deep into his heart that threat reached. Not till now. Good Lord! He associated her with his wife!

  Chelsea's headache was growing worse; even her eyes were throbbing now. She squinted at Grace—so calm, so plain and conservative. So safe!

  "Grace, do you mind if I ask you a personal question? Are you and Nick dating?"

  "Well, of course. Isn't it obvious?"

  Chelsea's mouth dried to cotton. "Oh, sure, I could see it right away." She gulped. "Is it serious?"

  "I think so."

  "Marriage?"

  "Well…" Grace shrugged and laughed.

  Chelsea wanted to say she was happy for Grace, but the words wouldn't come. Suddenly she felt she would explode with the feelings swelling inside her.

  "Well, thanks for having me over." She opened the door and hurried out, needing to drink in the cool night air.

  Chelsea couldn't reach her Jeep fast enough. She didn't understand why she was rattled by the news that Nick Tanner was seeing someone. She wasn't looking for a relationship, and certainly not one with him! She disliked the man thoroughly. He was close-minded and contentious, and if that wasn't enough, he was dismantling her life. He could go out with anyone he chose, she didn't care!

  But as she drove away from the Lockwood home, Chelsea felt an ache deep inside her, and she knew she did care. A lot.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nick stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of his office above the ski-rental shop and listened. He imagined that during winter the thumping of ski boots and din of conversation rising from below would be murder, but for now the only sound was the warm whooshing of the May breeze through the pines. And Katie's singing as she played beneath those pines. From here he could see the base lodge, a bit of the parking lot and a few of the wide green swaths that, in another season, were ski trails. A ski area without snow was always a jolt to the system, especially an area so fragrant and bursting with spring.

  Nick's dark brows lowered until they almost met. It had been years since he'd been aware of the sweet smell of spring, the gold-green translucence of new birch leaves, the lift of hope in a robin's song. He'd lived with a dead weight in his soul for so long he'd forgotten there was any other way to feel.

  Of course, he'd hoped for a change. That was why he'd moved to the Berkshires. Until now, however, he'd only thought of the move as affecting Katie. He'd wanted to get her away from the pollution and crime and frenetic pace of the big city, give her room and time to grow. He'd never anticipated that the move might have an effect on him, too.

  Sure, he'd expected to enjoy his new work, enjoy living without noise and traffic jams. But something else was happening here. Perceptions were sharpening, veils lifting. He felt like a man awakening from a drugged sleep.

  Nick ran a slightly unsteady hand through his hair. He wasn't sure he liked it—even if it was just an awareness of robins and new leaves. He wasn't ready. The optimism invading his heart frightened him. Good things in life were fleeting, ephemeral. They always set you up for a fall. Laura had taught him that.

  He didn't regret the move, and for Katie's sake he never would. He only wished he didn't feel quite so vulnerable all of a sudden. Ironic as the fact was, part of him wanted to crawl back into that cave of emotional numbness that had enveloped him after Laura's death. It was safe there. He ran no risks of being hurt again.

  The sound of an engine shifting gears broke his train of thought. He and Chet had an interview today with a young guy from Colorado, a prime prospect for the job of head ski instructor at Pine Ridge. Nick craned his neck until he spotted the vehicle breezing along the entrance road into the base area—a late-model, open-topped Jeep. His hands splayed out on the sun-warmed glass as he leaned forward. No, it wasn't the new ski instructor. It was Chelsea Law-ton!

  Chelsea brought her Jeep to a neat stop below his window. He jerked back just as she looked up. With hands that suddenly felt useless, he tucked in his shirt, then mad
e a hasty pass at his hair.

  He could hear her talking, could hear her easy, infectious laughter. He edged toward the window again. She was standing in the middle of the hopscotch squares he'd drawn for Katie on the asphalt yesterday, though he doubted she was aware of them. She and Katie, who was now swinging from one of the pine's low branches, were too busy chatting.

  Chelsea was wearing a skirt today, a hand-batiked skirt in a shade of lavender that unexpectedly made him think of hyacinths. It was topped by a gauzy lavender and white-lace blouse that fell softly over the curve of her breasts. He liked the outfit. It was different. Homemade, he'd bet. He'd noticed she liked unique things, like the African teak jewelry she'd worn to the Lockwoods' the other night… and those bright blue high-tops last Saturday morning. Nick caught himself smiling in spite of himself.

  She was quite a chameleon, changing her appearance as easily as… No, not a chameleon. Chameleons picked up their identity from whatever happened to be near them. But Chelsea Lawton was a woman with a firm grip on who she was and what she liked.

  Nick regretted that what she liked included ballooning. He pressed his forehead against the glass and sighed. Odd, he'd sort of been hoping she was better at it…

  But that wasn't why he was taking her meadow. He had to. He had no choice.

  He was less comfortable about taking the house. He wondered where she would go. It concerned him, which was ridiculous, of course. He didn't give a damn where she went. That was her problem. She'd made her own difficult bed by choosing a ditzy occupation. Besides, she herself had said she'd be all right.

  Chet was upset, however, and that upset Nick. Chet obviously liked her. She was a neighbor; Chet knew her family. Grace had even been her classmate.

  Nick rubbed a hand over his disgruntled face. He didn't want the Lockwoods to feel guilty or distressed over Chelsea Lawton, but they did, and he'd only exacerbated the situation. He shouldn't have been so abrupt, and he never should have made that comment about her business feeding off Pine Ridge like a parasite. Though it was probably true, it had been low, and he'd only said it because he was still furious over her kidnapping Katie.

  Maybe he should apologize. Life with the Lockwoods would be easier if he did. He had no right upsetting a long-time friendship because of personal differences. Yes, he could do that. Then he'd send Miss Lawton on her way, job done and, hopefully, never have to deal with her again.

  Chelsea waved to Katie and headed for the steps that led up to Nick's office. As she did, she hopped on one foot down the avenue of hopscotch blocks, 3-2-1. Her soft lavender skirt flipped gracefully about her shapely legs as she landed squarely on two feet. Nick couldn't help smiling.

  There was a lot about Chelsea Lawton he didn't approve of. Her ineptness at what she did for a living. The chances she took with children. The way she reminded him of Laura. But there was no use denying that she was one attractive woman.

  He turned and hurried to his desk. By the time she was knocking on his door, Nick had molded his demeanor into a model of indifference.

  At the top of the stairs, Chelsea pulled in a deep breath of courage. She'd been hoping to see Chet Lockwood, but according to Katie only her father was here. Well, fine. She didn't give a hoot. She'd handle Nick Tanner with the same pride and determination that had powered her through her morning.

  She'd been driving all over creation placing ads today. Writing out those checks had been painful. Advertising was terribly expensive, but she knew from experience she'd get results. She was tired of driving, tired of talking and shelling out money, but she was also determined to earn some extra money to help get her through the trauma of a move to a new site.

  She knocked.

  "Come in." It was Nick Tanner's distinctive warm voice.

  She squared her shoulders and entered the glass-walled office.

  Nick looked up from his desk as if he'd been waiting for her. "What can I do for you, Chelsea?"

  Her brisk stride slowed. She hadn't expected to feel so unnerved, but he'd never called her Chelsea before. Not that that should make any difference. He disliked her, she disliked him, and they were both perfectly aware of the situation. She felt almost comfortable with their mutual animosity. At least it was out in the open and recognizable— not like this queazy sense of hanging in space, of not knowing why a simple "Chelsea" should sound so kind.

  "I've brought my lease," she began hesitantly. "It's due today. That's why I'm delivering it in person. I thought maybe Mr. Lockwood would be here."

  Nick's hazel eyes traveled over her slowly, studying her appearance. She wondered why she'd worn this outfit. It made her look so round and lumpy. And the shoes—to him they probably looked like somebody's grandmother's.

  "He hasn't come back from lunch yet. I can take it."

  Chelsea walked across the sun-splashed carpet and placed the envelope on the corner of his desk. "He has to sign it."

  "I know." Nick's firm, well-shaped mouth twitched for a second. Did he find something about her amusing? "I'll give it to him, I promise."

  "Good. I wouldn't want to forfeit the month of May just because I was a day late."

  The twitch broadened into a smile. "No one's going to throw you out because you're a day late."

  Chelsea glanced away, around the room as if interested in the decor. He was acting awfully strange today.

  "Nice office," she said.

  "Mmm, I like it. With all these windows, even when I have to be inside, I feel I'm not. Would you like to have a seat?"

  "Oh, no, thanks. I should be leaving." But she didn't. She just stood there watching Nick Tanner who was watching her. Unexpectedly, heat bloomed in her cheeks. Good Lord, she thought, it wasn't happening again, was it? The attraction she'd felt for this man last week at the hospital?

  In the same instant she corrected herself. The attraction hadn't been isolated to that one afternoon. It had plagued her again that night, lying awake in bed, and at scattered moments every day since. Which was ridiculous. After their run-ins, it made no sense. Besides, he and Grace Lock-wood were dating.

  "Are you all right?"

  "Yes. Sure." She cleared her mind with an effort.

  He came around his desk, picking up the envelope she'd placed there.

  "About this lease…" He sat on the edge of the desk, tapping the envelope on his muscle-corded thigh. "I hope you realize that none of this mess was directed at you personally."

  "Would you blame me if I thought it was?"

  "I guess not, considering my behaviour on a few occasions. But you have to believe it wasn't. We simply need that land, Chelsea. We need that land, and it wouldn't matter who was on it." There wasn't a trace of mockery left in his voice, and on a sudden wave of insight, Chelsea realized he was apologizing to her. In an oblique sort of way, he was definitely apologizing.

  An ironic smile touched her lips. "How did we manage to get off to such a terrible start?"

  His head jerked back in pure surprise, and she realized she hadn't meant to say those words out loud. But it was too late. They were already out there in all their raw honesty.

  Just then the door opened and Katie came skipping in. "Oops, I forgot to close the door."

  "Don't bother, Spud. It's too nice a day. Whatcha got?"

  "Pinecones. There are zillions of 'em out there." Her arms were overflowing. "See, Chelsea?" When she raised her arms, a few of the cones and dozens of long, sticky needles slipped to the floor. She tried to catch them, but that only sent the rest of her load tumbling.

  Nick groaned. "Oh, Katie! A very important man is going to be here soon." He stooped and hurriedly picked them up. When he went to the wastebasket, Chelsea noticed a few stragglers. She brought them to him, glad he'd gone to the basket only to dig out a crumpled plastic bag.

  "Here you go, young lady. Now, go put them out on the deck."

  Katie wasn't happy, but she went, anyway.

  Nick shook his head. "I should've made her pick them up, shouldn't I? How'
s she ever going to learn?"

  Chelsea had been thinking the same thing herself. He did too much for Katie. "It isn't easy, is it?"

  "What?"

  "Being a single parent."

  "I'll say. Especially to someone like Katie who needs so much special attention."

  He was probably right. Still, Chelsea couldn't help feeling that Katie got too much attention—of the wrong kind. He protected her, pampered her—which was understandable because of her accident. But he should stop now. Katie needed to get on with her life. As far as Chelsea could see, she was a strong child, healthy in every way except for her limp. Nick should stop cosseting her weakness. Children knew what kinds of behaviour elicited attention, and if playing helpless was the behaviour that made her father jump, why would Katie act differently?

  "Great, now I have pine gum all over my hands." Nick's comment snapped her train of thought. "You, too?"

  As Chelsea was examining her hands, Nick reached out and took them in his. The unexpected touch made her breath come up short. For a moment neither of them spoke.

  Finally, he drew back. "Yep, just as I thought. Here." He handed her a box of tissues.

  She expelled a breath she hadn't been aware of holding. "Thanks, but tissues won't work."

  Katie returned. "Let's see your hands, Spud."

  The child held them out, palms up. "Uh-oh! I can't go to the hospital now." She shook her head with adult seriousness.

  Nick frowned. "What's that, Katie?"

  "My hands are too dirty."

  "You have therapy today?" Chelsea asked. Katie's answer was a grimace. "I don't think dirty hands matter much at therapy." Chelsea looked at Nick. "Do you have any turpentine? Or paint remover?"

  "I doubt it."

  "Wait. I may have some nail-polish remover in my bag." She plopped her purse on his cluttered desk and unzipped its many pockets. After a few minutes, Nick began to laugh.

  "What haven't you got in there, lady?"

  "Don't make fun. Look." She smiled jubilantly as she pulled out a small bottle. She dampened a tissue, then crooked a finger, motioning Katie over. Very gently she rubbed at the sticky black spots. "Okay, go into the bathroom now and wash up, really well, lots of soap."