New Lease on Love Read online

  "Hey! Dad!" Katie called from the top of the stairs. "Dad, come up here."

  Unlike the lower level, the loft was bright with natural light pouring in the long rows of windows. It was airy, clean, the floor newly sanded. A pink wall telephone and a powerful-looking sewing machine suggested that Chelsea spent a good deal of time up here.

  "C'mon, Dad." Katie waved him over to a cardboard box. Two boys who looked remarkably like Larry were sitting cross-legged on the floor near her.

  "Don't touch, Katie," Nick warned softly. "Mother cats don't like people touching their babies when they're this young."

  "I already touched. Chelsea let me," Katie said, sounding righteous.

  Nick leaned in and gently stroked the mother's head. "You have pretty babies, Mama cat."

  "She likes you." Chelsea smiled.

  Just then one of the kittens got up on its spindly legs and tried to climb over a sibling. Instead, it went tumbling head over tail, sending the children into a fit of giggles. Nick and Chelsea stood back.

  "Those are Larry's boys?" Nick asked.

  "Yes. Matthew and Peter. I hope Katie hasn't overdone it. They've been playing hide-and-seek and doing a lot of running."

  She was biting her full lower lip, and he imagined she was worrying about Grace's comment. "I'm sure she's fine." He turned around slowly, scanning the peak-roofed room. "What do you do up here?"

  "Mostly repairs. For instance, the balloon stuffed in that bag has a few panels that are wearing thin. It's tedious work, taking apart all the stitching, but I save money doing it myself. And the repairs have to get done—I have an equipment inspection coming up soon."

  "Oh? Is that normal procedure?"

  "Of course. I get tested, too. Every year." She smirked as if she was still serving up that crow.

  But Nick wasn't going to apologize for his caution. Her trophies might be proof that she was good sometimes, but sometimes she was wretched. He'd seen her fly. He'd also seen the exhilaration in her face. She got a thrill out of living on the edge.

  "Katie, I hate to break this up, but we've got to go."

  Katie turned reluctantly from the box, a tiny ball of fur cupped in her hands. "Can I have one, Daddy? Chelsea says she's gonna give them away. Free."

  "Thanks a lot," he muttered for Chelsea's ears only. "No, Katie, not now. Maybe after we get our own place."

  He felt Chelsea's attention. He looked at her and she turned away. "Were you about to say something?"

  She shrugged. "I was just wondering why you won't be staying at the Lockwoods'."

  They moved slowly toward the stairs. "Why would I want to do that?"

  He noticed her swallow uncomfortably. "Well, it isn't a secret that you and Grace are dating. Right?"

  Uncomfortable himself now, he nodded.

  "And you're pretty serious."

  "Where'd you hear that?"

  "Grace."

  Nick bristled. He felt rushed—as if Grace was presuming too much.

  But she wasn't really. He'd been taking her out for more than four months. Occasionally they'd talked about the future, and he was considering marriage. Why, then, was he suddenly feeling claustrophobic?

  "I'm sorry." Chelsea's cheeks flushed. "I didn't mean to pry. I j-just thought if you two were going to be m-married, you'd stay put at her house."

  Her house. He'd never thought about it before, but of course, Grace would want to stay there.

  He shook his head. He didn't want to think about that right now. "Come on, Spud. Put the kitten down."

  "Can I come back tomorrow?"

  Chelsea touched Nick's arm. "Katie's welcome anytime."

  Her hand was a warm pressure that suddenly became the focus of all Nick's attention. He gazed into her eyes, eyes that seemed to be inviting him in, into their smoky gray warmth. "That would be…" No. What was he thinking! "I hope you don't take this wrong, but I'd rather she didn't."

  The light in her eyes dimmed. Despite the brave little smile, she was hurt.

  Nick dragged his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. "It's nothing personal. I just don't want Katie around the balloon."

  Chelsea nodded. "I understand."

  Why did she look so disappointed? he wondered. Why should one more child mean so much to her? Nick's stomach knotted with a tension that was becoming all too familiar.

  "Katie, we're going."

  The kitchen was filled with steam and the aroma of bubbling spaghetti sauce as they passed through again. The two boys, who had followed them down, sidled over to the counter and reached into a bakery box. Cannoli, Nick guessed from the cream they popped into their mouths. He smiled. It would've been nice having another child. Maybe even a couple more.

  "Nick?"

  He shook his head. Chelsea was watching him curiously.

  "Would you like to stay for dinner? We'd love to have you."

  "Thank you, but we really have to go,"

  "Are you sure?"

  Katie tugged on his belt. "Say yes, Dad!"

  "You know Grace probably has dinner ready for us."

  Katie only deepened his embarrassment by opening her mouth and pretending to gag. "She's making liver tonight." It didn't help that everyone else laughed.

  They seemed like pretty nice people, and they certainly thought a lot of Chelsea. Nick lifted his gaze and let it touch each face. He had no idea why their opinion of him mattered, but it did. He didn't want to walk out of here with their resenting him as the Simon Legree who was turning Chelsea out of her home.

  "Liver, huh? Actually, I wouldn't mind staying myself."

  The atmosphere in the dining room was restrained, but Nick refused to give up. He discussed the latest breakthroughs in physical therapy with Mimi and surprised Rob, the environmental activist, with his knowledge of issues— which grudgingly got Larry, the science teacher, involved. Minute by minute, Nick could feel the ice thawing.

  By the time dessert was being passed around, he felt confident enough to bring up the touchy subject of the changes at Pine Ridge. He thought they might be interested, since they all lived in the area, and they were. Yes, Nick felt a definite thawing, and when he and Judy both reached for the last piece of pastry, his heart warmed when she battled openly, the way she would have with her sister or brother.

  Occasionally, Nick glanced across the table to meet Chelsea's wide, incredulous eyes. She'd grown quiet, and he suspected she usually wasn't. He hoped he wasn't acting like a jerk and embarrassing her. He was doing an awful lot of talking and playing with the kids.

  Eventually Mimi declared she couldn't look at dirty dishes one more minute. Slowly, the others rose, too. Nick was gratified that no one objected when he pitched in to help.

  Nick was the last to leave. He didn't plan on it working out that way, but somehow there he was, walking Chelsea down the front hall. "Thanks for a lovely evening. Dinner was delicious."

  "Glad you stayed."

  Katie ran between them and out to the porch, waving goodbye to the two boys. Nick and Chelsea paused at the door.

  She was awfully quiet, Nick thought. Almost peevish. Clutches of uneasiness returned. In his eagerness to get to know her family, had he slighted her? And why would she care if he had?

  "I had a great time tonight," he ventured. "Your family's something else."

  "Hmm, we're all pretty flaky."

  "No. I think they're terrific. I like them."

  She sighed resignedly. "And they apparently like you."

  Feeling as if he were taking a step into space, he hooked a finger under her chin and lifted it so he could see into her eyes. "But you don't. You still don't like me, do you?"

  She seemed to struggle with her answer. "And you don't like me. Why mince words?"

  Nick searched her smooth, hot face, finding her features as intoxicating as champagne. "That's where you're wrong," he whispered. "I only don't want to like you."

  Her eyes lifted to his, startled, but she was no more surprised by the comment than h
e. He said a hasty good-night and hurried out the door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The next few days passed uneventfully enough, and then calamity struck. Chelsea had been looking at rental properties all morning, her poor old van coughing and wheezing from one hill to the next, when suddenly, shifting became quite difficult. She was accustomed to the engine's sickly noises, but this stiffness in the gears was something new.

  She'd headed back toward town immediately and had almost made it, but she'd had to be towed the last two miles.

  Now Chelsea eased herself onto the wall outside the gas station and lowered her head into her hands. She was tired beyond exhaustion and recognized it for what it was—depression.

  Buck, the mechanic she always came to with her problems, was checking the van now. With any luck, he'd ply his usual magic and she'd be rolling again, tomorrow at the latest.

  But Chelsea strongly suspected her luck was running out. She hadn't had any looking at houses this morning, she still had to find a way to move her billboard, and the van was living on borrowed time.

  She swung her feet up onto the wall and leaned her back against the sun-warmed brick of the garage. Why now? she asked, fighting an urge to cry.

  She closed her eyes and immediately an image of Nick Tanner took form. Damn him! He was the cause of every misery in her life, the most irritating of which was the fact that he was on her mind constantly these days. No amount of work or worry could drive him out. When she least expected it, she'd find herself remembering things—the easy way he'd traded jokes with Rob at dinner the other night, his absorption in teaching baby Beth to play pat-a-cake.

  Before he'd arrived, Chelsea had asked her family to be civil, but the degree to which they'd gotten along with him surpassed her wildest expectations. Then it occurred to her that Nick was a businessman. He was used to charming people. By now it was probably second nature, this winning friends, influencing people. That was undoubtedly it. She'd hate to think he was really as charming as he appeared.

  The only problem was, if it was all an act, she couldn't come up with a reason for it. What could he possibly gain by ingratiating himself with her family? And ingratiate himself he had. She'd wanted them to be civil but, Lord, they'd practically sat up and begged. They'd made him the center of attention, him and his harebrained vision of Pine Ridge. They'd even forgotten that that vision was precisely the reason her life was now in a state of upheaval.

  Chelsea tried to enjoy the sunshine warming her face. Forget him, she told herself. Most likely, he'd never be back. He'd made it clear he didn't want Katie at the house, didn't want her thinking about balloons. Forget him, she repeated as the sun soaked into her tired muscles.

  But she couldn't, because the honest truth was he had charmed her right along with her family. Not that she thought he'd meant to; the man had barely spoken to her all evening. But she was charmed. Listening to his warm, impassioned voice as he spoke about Pine Ridge, watching his expressive hazel eyes, his beautifully shaped mouth… Before long she had felt positively inebriated.

  There was also that conversation at the door. She couldn't even think about that moment without grinning ear to ear.

  Nick liked her. He'd admitted that, though he was fighting it, he liked her.

  Of course, it meant nothing to her personally. The man was going with Grace Lockwood. But it was still wonderful news—for Katie. Maybe there was hope for a balloon ride yet.

  Grace. Chelsea's eyelids squeezed in a wince. She didn't know why the thought of Nick's dating Grace bothered her so. Grace was attractive, intelligent and a wonderful home-maker. But she did have an edge that grated. She could be humorless, rigid—an old futz! Chelsea knew that love was blind, but something about this match seemed extraordinarily wrong.

  "That all you do all day, Lawton?"

  Chelsea snapped open her eyes. "Nick!" She sat up straight, her heart immediately racing.

  His car was at a gas pump, and he was standing beside the open door. His eyes were warm with humor. In that instant Chelsea realized she wasn't so much upset by the fact that he was dating Grace as by the fact that he was dating anyone at all.

  He unscrewed his gas cap and reached for the pump. "What are you doing here?"

  Chelsea watched the play of muscles beneath his cream-colored shirt. He must work out, she decided. He certainly wasn't bulky, but his shoulders were broad, his arms strong and corded. She jerked her thumb toward the open bay of the garage. "My van."

  "What's wrong with it?"

  "Don't know yet." Her gaze traveled the length of him. She didn't know why he continued to interest her. To be honest, she'd dated a couple of guys with better builds and one who was actually better looking. Still, Chelsea knew no one had ever touched that part of her deep inside that was primal and female and beyond all reasoning. Not the way Nick Tanner did.

  She frowned, furious with herself. She had no right to think about him this way. The man was taken. Besides, he was the enemy! He was ruining her life.

  Lecturing herself didn't seem to make any difference, though. Her heart, or hormones—whatever was responding to Nick—had a mind all its own.

  He finished pumping, paid his bill, then walked toward her. If her pulse had been beating fast before, it now raced out of control.

  "Hi," he said, sitting beside her. "Mind if I join you?"

  "It's a free wall. Lunch break?"

  He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. She wondered if he saw any of the ravages of her morning written there. She hoped not. The Fates might be dumping all over her, but that was her business. There was no need for him to gloat.

  "How goes the house hunt these days?"

  "The… How'd you know?"

  "Know what?"

  "That I… Never mind. It's going. And with you?"

  Nick was about to answer when Buck stepped out of the garage, wiping his hands on a grease-blackened rag. Chelsea jumped to her feet, alert and praying for good news with every fiber of her being. She couldn't afford to have the van off the road right now, and she couldn't afford another bill.

  Buck shook his shaggy gray head. "You want to hear it now or later?"

  She wrung the ribbing of her sweater. "How bad?"

  "Bad. Your transmission's shot."

  She expelled her breath as if she'd been punched. "Are you sure?"

  "Wish I could say no."

  "How much to fix it?"

  "Sure you want to bother? That van of yours is in here every other month. I have a beauty of a Dodge in the back you might want to consider instead."

  Chelsea glanced toward the wall, but Nick had thoughtfully removed himself and was pacing a respectful distance away.

  "Fixing the van has to be cheaper than buying something new."

  "At this point it's throwing good money after bad."

  "Buck!" She didn't want to plead. "Maybe in a few months. Not now. How much will the transmission be?"

  He sighed, then told her. Chelsea wished she were the fainting sort. Fainting would be so much better than standing here shaking.

  "You okay, kid?"

  "Yes. Fine." She squared her shoulders. "How long?"

  "A couple days."

  "Then do it."

  "If you say so. Do you have a way to get home?"

  Chelsea rubbed her hands over her face, hoping to give the impression she was thinking. Actually, she'd felt moisture gathering in her eyes and wanted to swipe it away.

  "I can give her a lift."

  Buck looked over at Nick. "That okay with you, Chelsea?"

  She nodded. The mechanic waved and headed back to work.

  "I hate putting you out, Nick, but I do appreciate the favor," she said, slipping into his Volvo.

  "My pleasure."

  As the car hummed along, Chelsea closed her eyes, glad that Nick didn't insist on talking. She'd have to do some serious thinking about her life-style when she got home-about finding another job, about living with roommates. It wasn't a scenario she'd pi
ctured for herself at her age. She'd hoped for more solidity and permanence, but she supposed compromise was what growing up was all about.

  When she opened her eyes again, they'd reached Pine Ridge Road, but as they neared her house, she noticed Nick wasn't slowing down. "Hey!" She pointed, as the house sailed by. But he kept on going, chewing on a small mischievous smile. "Nick! Where are you going?"

  "Lunch. Feel like joining me?"

  "This isn't necessary," Chelsea sat stiff in her seat as they turned onto the highway. "What are you doing!"

  He flashed her a heart-stopping smile. "The truth? You look as if you could use a break."

  Chelsea hardened herself against a quivering in her jaw. She didn't expect this kindness from him. "Where are you taking me?"

  "Frankly, I'm not really sure…how about we go exploring and see what turns up? Since moving here, I haven't had much time to look around. This'll be a break for me, too." Nick leaned forward to read a passing sign. "Hmm. Stockbridge. That sounds good. Always wanted to visit Stockbridge."

  "You mean you've never been there? Ever?"

  "It doesn't make me a bad person, Chelse."

  She bit back a smile. She kind of liked this new, easygoing side to Nick Tanner and she loved the effortless way he'd called her Chelse, as if the more intimate nickname was already a part of his vocabulary. "Stockbridge is lovely. You'll think you've walked into a Norman Rockwell painting. He lived there much of his life, you know."

  A few minutes later, they were driving up the town's wide main street. It was only May, but the shops were already busy with tourists.

  "This looks interesting." Nick surprised her by swerving abruptly into a parking spot.

  She retrieved her purse, which had slid to the floor, and gazed up at the mammoth white inn, its porch bright with geraniums. "Interesting? Nick, this is the Red Lion Inn."

  "Oh, I've heard of that. Pretty classy place. Great. Let's have lunch here."

  She gulped.

  "My treat."

  "I'm not dressed right."

  Nick flicked his tie. "I'll cover for both of us."

  They had a perfectly wonderful meal that lasted an hour and a half. Whenever conversation threatened to get too serious, Nick signaled a time-out and steered them clear. By the time dessert arrived, Chelsea felt much better. She swallowed a spoonful of strawberry parfait and sighed with contentment.