New Lease on Love Page 7

  Lip still jutting out, Katie scuffed her running shoes across the carpet toward the adjoining bathroom.

  Chelsea turned to Nick, and the parental warmth that remained in his eyes spilled over on her. She smiled back automatically before self-consciousness won out.

  "How was your balloon flight the other morning?"

  "Which? The anniversary couple?"

  He nodded, taking a freshly moistened tissue from her.

  "It was lovely."

  "Did…your boyfriend help out that morning, too? Does he usually go along to help?" Nick seemed inordinately taken with his left palm.

  "My boyfriend?" She frowned. "Oh! You mean Larry? That guy you met the other day was my brother."

  "Ah, I see."

  "Ah, you see what?" She didn't know how to interpret the lightning flicker through his features. "I date. I have boyfriends."

  "Really." Nick kept rubbing, though the spot was long gone.

  "Yes. Several."

  "No one special?"

  "They're all special."

  "Of course."

  "Hey, I'm not looking to settle down. Not yet, anyway. I have other fish to fry."

  "A career?" His mouth twitched again.

  "Precisely." She'd really prefer getting off the subject. To him, her "career" was undoubtedly a joke. "Has Katie been giving you a hard time about therapy?"

  "The worst. She hates it, but I hate letting her skip."

  "As well you should. Don't let her."

  "Easier said than done. Today I may have to. I'm expecting someone this afternoon. His flight's been delayed, and I'm afraid he's going to get here just when I should be leaving with Katie."

  "Oh. Can't you reschedule the meeting?"

  Nick sat on the edge of his desk again. "If it were anybody else I would, but this guy's flying all the way from Colorado. Looks like it's Katie's session that's got to be rescheduled."

  Chelsea chewed on her lower lip, thinking. "But she'll see it as a victory. You'll just be reinforcing her notion that she can hound you until you buckle under." Was this a novel thought? Nick's eyes had a slightly startled look that led her to suspect it was.

  He smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I'm sure the last thing you want to hear is a grown man whining about the tribulations of fatherhood."

  Or was it rather he didn't want to hear a differing opinion on how to raise his daughter? Chelsea wondered.

  "All done, Dad," Katie called from behind them. "My hands are clean, but now my stomach feels funny. I think I want to throw up."

  Nick wheeled around. "Katie, enough!"

  Katie glowered at him, resentful that he'd seen through her ruse. "I don't want to go. I'm not going." She stamped her foot.

  "You are, and that's all there is to it!"

  Father and daughter stared hard at each other, locked in impasse. Chelsea wondered if she'd had anything to do with his sudden sternness or if occasionally Katie pushed Nick to the point where even he, the doting protector, realized he had to stand firm.

  Suddenly the little girl's jaw trembled and tears filled her eyes. Her brattiness disappeared, giving way to the emotional fatigue and fear that lay beneath it all along.

  Nick pulled a hand through his thick hair. "Come here." He lowered himself onto his haunches and held out his arms. Slowly, Katie went to him and let him fold her in his embrace. Chelsea noticed how tired he looked, how distraught his face was, as he pressed it to Katie's soft curls.

  "Katie, you're so close," he whispered. "Dr. Green says by September you might be all done. Just a few more months, Spud. I know it's hard, I know."

  In spite of herself, Chelsea felt her throat tighten. Raising this little girl wasn't easy. There were no pat answers. "Can I take her?"

  Nick looked up, too surprised to answer.

  "I mean it. I don't have anything to do this afternoon, and it seems you have too much."

  Nick stood to his full height, his hands on Katie's shoulders. "I couldn't let you."

  "Why not, for heaven's sake!"

  "She's a handful. I wouldn't even let Grace…"

  Chelsea's face slowly dropped. Evidently, he thought Grace Lockwood held a monopoly on domestic talents, while all Chelsea Lawton did was fly off into ski lifts. Well, fine! She didn't know why she wanted to help him, anyway.

  "I'll go with Chelsea."

  Chelsea watched Nick stiffen. They both looked down at Katie, standing between them, her eyes still wet. She was glancing from one to the other, weighing their expressions. "I'll go," she repeated, "if I can ride in Chelsea's balloon."

  "No!" Nick's answer was a bullet.

  Chelsea bit her lip hard to keep from laughing. Even in tears the child was indomitable. "Katie, my balloon isn't going up today, but I have something else you might like."

  "What?"

  "I can't tell you now, it wouldn't be a surprise. But later on I'll show you, if you work real hard at therapy."

  The child folded her arms and considered the proposition. "Okay. But it better be good."

  "Katie!" Nick reprimanded, trying to arrest his own grin.

  "It's settled then. What time is her appointment?"

  "Three."

  Chelsea strolled toward the door. "Don't worry, she'll be fine. I promise."

  Katie scooted between them and down the stairs. They heard her whoop as she clambered into the Jeep.

  "Katie, be careful," Nick called out, but then he laughed softly and Chelsea noticed how the laugh transformed his face. He really was a handsome man, she thought. Hand-some, and warm—and disturbingly sensual. She'd never met anyone who could turn a simple thing like smiling into a seduction.

  He leaned against the doorjamb. "Thanks. I owe you."

  "Oh, yeah? Put it in writing." She took in a deep lungful of the sweet, piny air. "Is it my imagination, or are we enjoying a particularly nice spring this year?"

  "Funny. I was just thinking that myself."

  Chelsea smiled at the sky. She wished she was ballooning today. She wished she could take Katie with her, too. Maybe if Nick got to know her better, realized she wasn't a kook just because her occupation was unusual…

  "Hey, do you know where my house is?" The words slipped out spontaneously. "Your house, I mean. The one I live in." He nodded. "Well, instead of my bringing Katie back here and possibly interrupting your meeting, why don't you pick her up when you're ready?"

  "I couldn't do that."

  "It's no trouble. My two nephews will be there to play with her. And then there are the kittens. That's my big surprise. I know it's not much and you don't like her accepting bribes, but it did seem to appease her."

  Nick smiled a lopsided grin that pierced her strangely. "She's going to go nuts. She loves kittens."

  "Good, so it's settled. You'll pick her up at my house."

  He shrugged defeatedly. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nick pulled to the side of the road. Besides Chelsea's Jeep, he counted two other cars in her driveway. Did she have company? Well…good. Now he had an excuse to leave right away.

  He knew he'd wanted to bridge the gap they'd dug between them. He'd wanted the tension and sharp words to end—for Chet and Grace's sake, of course. And it wasn't that he wasn't grateful to Chelsea for taking Katie off his hands this afternoon. He was. But now that they'd made their peace, he wanted to pull back. He had no intention of becoming any better acquainted with her, and he definitely did not want her to get any closer to Katie. He preferred his daughter get to know women who made a living at something a little less flamboyant than hot-air ballooning. Katie seemed to admire Chelsea far too much as it was. Yes, he was glad things were easier between him and Chelsea, but now it was time to back off.

  Chelsea opened the door even as he was knocking. "Hi, Nick."

  Nick opened his mouth, then closed it again. He hadn't expected to be so disarmed, but he'd never heard her call him by his first name before. "Uh… sorry I'm late."

  "No pro
blem," she said, smiling the most fetching smile he'd ever seen. "Come on in. How'd your meeting go?"

  He entered the front hall in the wake of a light, delicious cologne. Or was that just the lingering fragrance of the hyacinths he'd passed on the walk? He was beginning to feel confused.

  "It…it went very well. Looks like Pine Ridge is going to have a new ski instructor. How did Katie do?"

  "Good. She worked really hard."

  "She did?"

  "Don't look so surprised. I told you she'd be okay."

  Nick had to admit he was surprised. "Oh, here's your copy of the lease. Signed, sealed and now delivered."

  "Great. Thanks." Chelsea took the envelope from him, leaned into a room and pitched it toward a desk.

  "Your office?"

  "Uh-huh."

  Nick found himself standing on the room's threshold, soaking in the bright, efficient atmosphere. His gaze roamed slowly, from the deeply cushioned burgundy sofa, over the pale oak desk and files, to the colorful balloon posters decorating the white walls. He nodded in approval. "This… surprises me."

  "What, that I have good taste?"

  "No." A sheepish grin overtook his expression. "Yes."

  "Gee, thanks. Just because I look as if I need someone to dress me doesn't mean I can't hang a decent pair of blinds."

  He turned, taking it all in. It was the sort of room that inspired confidence and trust. It clearly said the proprietor here was a professional.

  "Did you take these pictures?" he inquired, noticing a group of framed photographs over a bookcase.

  "Uh-huh. From my balloon."

  "You're very good."

  "I try to be. When I'm extra good, people even pay me."

  Nick was lost in one of her photographs, taken, it seemed, from the clouds. The sun was just rising, and veils of silver mist were hanging over the dark, gently rolling mountains. He almost didn't hear her. "They pay you?"

  "Mmm. Calendar publishers. Local tourist boards looking for postcard material."

  Nick swung around to stare at her. "That right? I didn't realize you were so…enterprising." He meant to return to the photo, but now he couldn't take his eyes off her. He'd never seen skin so fresh and smooth, or hair such a deep, shiny brown. And her eyes, those pale gray eyes…

  Suddenly Nick was fighting the strangest urge to cross the room and…well…pull her into his arms, crush that gauzy lavender dress against his body…

  "Would you like to wait here while I go find Katie?" she asked, spots of color blooming in her cheeks. He wiped a hand over his eyes and made an effort to concentrate. Good Lord! What had he been thinking?

  "Wait here? Sure." His disappointment surprised him. She was already shuffling him on his way. But then, wasn't that exactly what he'd wanted—simply to pick up Katie and leave?

  He sat on the sofa and tried not to think about Chelsea Lawton. She hurt his head, this woman who crash landed balloons one day and on the next took exquisite pictures— and turned a profit on them, too.

  But within seconds he was up and exploring again. On a calendar over her desk, she'd penciled in a smattering of notes. Flight appointments. "Roller skating with boys." What boys? For a moment Nick suffered a vision of her cavorting with dozens of admirers. He sorely hoped "boys" referred to her nephews. Another note, "Hair trim," had been crossed out and replaced with "Pay insurance."

  On her desk a newspaper lay open to the job ads, a few circled in red, and in a Lucite bin, a bill for ripstop nylon caught his attention. His heart plummeted when he saw the bottom line. He turned away, telling himself the guilt he felt was only the result of snooping where he had no business. Better to look at those trophies.

  They were all Chelsea's, and they all had something to do with ballooning. The dates on them spanned the last eight years, and the places she'd won them ranged from New Mexico to Maine. Nick gazed at the gleaming statuettes and felt increasingly confused.

  "Bowling trophies," Chelsea quipped.

  He swiveled around at the sound of her voice. "I doubt it," he answered, smiling. He wanted to ask her exactly what she'd done to earn these—and if he was right in suspecting he'd grossly misjudged her abilities. But apparently she preferred to move on.

  "Katie wants you to come see the kittens." She looked hesitant. "You don't have to, though, if you don't want to."

  "Why would I not want to?"

  "My family's here. My brother, Larry, and Mimi, my kid sister, Judy, and her husband, Rob. I don't think you've met them yet."

  "I'm sorry. Am I interrupting a special occasion?"

  She laughed softly, and Nick discovered he got an immense kick out of the sound. "Yeah. Thursday. It's kind of become a tradition, gathering here for dinner on Thursday."

  "I won't keep you then, but I will go and pull Katie away."

  "That's what I'm trying to tell you. You can't get to Katie without going through them."

  "A gauntlet, huh?" He shrugged. "That's okay."

  "You mean it? You don't mind meeting them?"

  "Of course not." He rather liked the breathy exuberance that filled her voice every once in a while. "But first you've got to tell me about these trophies."

  "You really want to hear it, huh?"

  "Go on, serve it up. Crow on a platter."

  "They're from various races and competitions I've won at balloon rallies."

  "Races? In balloons? It boggles the mind."

  "Oh, the competitions aren't for speed. They're for accuracy, for executing certain flight patterns. This one, for instance." She pointed. "I won this by removing a key from the top of a pole. I got to keep what the key unlocked, too— my Jeep."

  "Holy… You mean, you won stuff?" Stuff? He groaned inwardly. What a wordsmith he became in her presence!

  "Sure. Stuff. Money."

  "Holy cow… But wait. What do you mean, accuracy?" He stepped closer, until their arms were just about touching. He'd caught the scent of hyacinths again and wanted more. "You aren't telling me you can steer those things, are you?"

  "No, but what we can do is catch wind currents at different altitudes and tack a course accordingly."

  "Sounds… tricky."

  "It is."

  Nick massaged his furrowed brow. Chelsea must be very good then. Very good indeed.

  Alongside the trophies, in a frame, was a picture of a long, silver van, its broad side windows revealing rows of plush interior seats. "What's this?" he asked, increasingly fascinated by the room and the things within it.

  "Oh, that." She laughed. "That's my inspiration."

  "Your… I don't think I understand."

  "You would if you saw the van I own now. It's a wreck. Someday I'd like to replace it with this model."

  "Oh." But he still didn't understand. Ballooning couldn't pay that well, could it? That van seemed a costly indulgence.

  She must have sensed his confusion. "A van's imperative in my line of work. I don't think I've ever had a charter where my passengers were the only people who showed up. They always bring relatives or friends who want to tag along on the chase. Then, of course, when the flight's done, we all have to be carted back to our take-off point." She sighed, staring longingly at the expensive vehicle. "Okay, enough of this. Let's go start that gauntlet."

  He followed her down the hall, through a well-lived-in sitting room and across a dining room. "They're all in there, in the kitchen," she warned.

  Nick didn't expect the kick of adrenaline he experienced. Quickly, he combed back his hair with both hands.

  The man he now knew to be Larry, Chelsea's brother, was at the stove, stirring a large pot of sauce and singing an obscure aria. His wife, the redheaded nurse, was laughing at the antics of a toddler she was trying to feed. And at the center table, two young people were putting together a salad, much of which was flying through the air as they tossed it at each other, squealing and ducking.

  Chelsea cleared her throat. The two young people continued to throw lettuce, but Larry turned. The aria e
nded, his back straightened, and behind those scholarly glasses his eyes filled with something black and fierce.

  Mimi glanced up at the same time, and the humor drained from her face. "Hi," she said. Inexplicably, her restraint saddened Nick.

  Finally the young people became aware of him. "Oh," the girl said, her voice dropping. Nick knew what was running through everyone's mind. What was this man doing here, this evil man who'd yelled at Chelsea and was pushing her business off Pine Ridge Mountain?

  He imagined Chelsea felt the tension in the room, too. She raced through introductions, then before anyone could say anything, asked if the kids were still with the kittens. Nick felt terrible. He'd made amends with her, but he hadn't realized there was a whole family behind her who were still offended. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind, probably because he himself had never known that sort of close family loyalty.

  Larry reminded Nick of a sheriff in a western movie, squint-eyes fixed, silently daring him to make a wrong move. Instead of a gun, though, he was wielding a wooden spoon dripping spaghetti sauce. Larry's displeasure bothered him more than anyone else's. He'd always regretted not having a brother, and he felt instinctively that Larry was someone he could really like.

  "They're in here." Chelsea tugged Nick's shirtsleeve and took him through a short pantry.

  "Cripes, how long is this house?"

  "Deceptive, isn't it. There are four bedrooms and a bath upstairs, too."

  Nick whistled softly. "Chet could've charged you four times what he did."

  Chelsea felt the stirrings of anger but tamped them down. They were getting along fairly well, and she wanted to get along better—for Katie's sake.

  "This leads to the barn. Mama cat insists on keeping her kittens up in the loft."

  Nick's gaze roamed over the dim clutter, deciphering three wicker gondolas, various trailer beds and, in front of a double door, an old blue van painted with the same colorful logo that decorated the billboard down the road. Vague pangs of guilt pricked at his conscience again, as he tallied up the amount of junk she had to move.