A Waiting Game ; A Loving Arrangement Read online

  It was like discovering fine wine where she had expected to taste water. She’d never noticed just how broad Nicholas’s chest and shoulders really were, or how the scent of tobacco and expensive cologne clung to him. She’d never noticed how chiseled his mouth was, or how exciting it could be to look into his dark eyes at close range. It had been safer not to notice. But her hands touched him through the smooth fabric of his evening jacket and lingered there when she felt the hard muscles under it.

  “Well?” he asked, a strange huskiness in his deep voice as he looked down at her.

  “You... I never realized how strong you were,” she stammered. She looked up into his eyes and time seemed to stand still for a space of seconds while they looked at each other, discovering facial features, textures, expressions, in an unfamiliar intimacy, in the quiet confines of the elevator.

  It took several seconds for them to realize that the elevator had stopped and the door had opened. Self-conscious and a little clumsy, Keena managed to get out a little ahead of him and lead the way to the front of the building where his white Rolls-Royce waited with Jimson at the wheel, staring straight ahead stoically.

  “Doesn’t Jimson ever get a day off?” she asked Nicholas when they were inside the car with the glass partition up, giving them total privacy.

  “Not lately. I’ve been working twenty-five-hour days,” he replied.

  “I’ll never get used to this car,” she sighed, leaning her dark head contentedly back against the leather as he was doing.

  “What’s wrong with it?” he asked curtly.

  “Nothing! It’s just that few people ever get to ride around in a Rolls—white, no less.” She laughed.

  He half turned in the seat, one big arm over the back of it, his eyes gleaming, though his smile had not completely disappeared. “And what’s wrong with that?” he asked with deliberate slowness.

  She braved his glittering eyes. Why did he look so suddenly predatory to her? So dark and menacing? “Nothing—except that I feel as if I were on display every time I ride in it. That’s all.”

  “You should be on display, Keena.” Something in the way he fairly growled her name sent a warm, unfamiliar tingle up her spine.

  “Because I’m rich and famous now, you mean, and everyone back in Ashton would hardly recognize this Keena Whitman?” She laughed shortly, her words underscored with a note of self-derision.

  Her answer hadn’t pleased him. It was in the hard lines of his face, the narrowing of his eyes. “No, not at all, though you needn’t take that little-Miss-Nobody-from-Ashton tone with me. You know what you are and what you’ve accomplished. And that you’re a very beautiful woman,” he said in that hard, matter-of-fact way of his.

  If he had been looking at her, then he would have seen the shock register on every feature. Keena was suddenly thankful for the darkness between them and the sudden blare of a horn that had broken Nicholas’s steady gaze for just that instant.

  “Damn city traffic,” he muttered half to himself. When he turned back to her, it was with a faintly puzzled expression. “Surely, you’ve had men tell you that before, that you’re beautiful? Scores of them, I’m afraid.” His words broke off abruptly, his gaze dropping to her slender body, outlining it with a masculine approval that was new and frightening.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked in a faint whisper.

  His dark, quiet eyes eased back up to meet hers. “I was wondering what it would feel like to make love to you.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  HER TOES TINGLED. She’d never felt such a wild surge of emotion and it came up suddenly, stunning her.

  Nicholas began to chuckle, the deep sound of it faintly irritating.

  “My God, what an expression,” he murmured, leaning back against the seat with a heavy sigh. “I thought that would get your attention.”

  She glared at him. “Now that you’ve got it, what are you going to do with it?” she asked grumpily.

  He glanced at her. “Get you back to the present. I loathe self-pity. Wait until I’m in Paris. I’ve got enough problems of my own without your dragging new ones from the past.”

  “What kind of problems?” she probed.

  His lips compressed. “Maria.”

  Maria was his mistress. Keena had read about the relationship in the gossip columns long before Nicholas had introduced the two of them. It shouldn’t have bothered her. He was, at forty, an active, virile man, and it would have been absurd to expect him not to have women. But one evening soon after he’d picked up the volatile brunette, Keena had seen them together in a popular night spot dancing so close that the fabric between them seemed to burn. And she’d begged her escort, a harmless young man who’d only lasted one date, to take her home. She couldn’t bear the sight. She’d hated the surge of jealousy, but it had persisted until even now she could hardly bear to hear Maria’s name.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  “She won’t believe it’s over,” he said curtly. “She’s calling me in tears twice a day, moaning over the lonely life I’ve condemned her to. Lonely, my foot, with two diamond necklaces, a new Porshe and an ermine coat!”

  “Maybe she really does miss you,” she muttered, able to be generous now that she knew he’d lost interest. She felt strangely relieved.

  “She misses the Rolls, honey, not me.” He laughed shortly.

  “Was it good in bed?” she asked, tongue in cheek, and darted a glance at him.

  “The Rolls or me?” he replied, refusing to be ruffled.

  “I imagine she misses the warmth,” she retorted, grinning at him.

  His dark eyes smiled at her. “Do you think I’d be warm?”

  “Like a blast furnace, I’d imagine,” she said demurely. “Is that why you’re going to Paris, to escape Maria?”

  “It isn’t funny,” he said, the smile fading.

  “No, I don’t suppose it is, to you.” She shot him a teasing glance. “But your love life is like one ongoing adventure to me. I really think you should assign the girls numbers or something so you can keep things in order.”

  “I’m delighted that my private life amuses you so,” he said in a chilling voice.

  “You could always tease me about mine,” she said grandly.

  His dark eyes cut around toward her. “You don’t have one,” he said. “Not a love life, anyway.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure?”

  “I keep a sharp eye on you, little one,” he said with a somber tone that startled her. “Sharper than you know. You don’t sleep around.”

  She glared at him. “Maybe I should hire a private detective of my own!”

  “What do you want to know?” he asked with a wicked grin. “Go ahead, ask me. I’ll tell you.”

  She glared at him again. “I’d just love to ask you something so personal it would embarrass you to the roots of your hair.”

  “Dream on, honey,” he returned with a smile.

  She sized up his muscular, imposing physique. “I’ll bet you crush them,” she murmured absently.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Is there only one position?” he asked in all innocence.

  The blush started at her hairline, worked down into her cheeks, seeped into her throat and down into the plunging neckline of her dress. And he sat there and watched her and laughed softly, lazily, as if the sight delighted him.

  “Instead of the theater, I’d better start taking you to some X-rated movies,” he murmured. “Your education is sadly lacking.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could manage a retort, he picked up her hand and pressed her palm to his lips. It was unexpected, and the sensation it caused made her heart turn over wildly. He caught her eyes, holding them in the dim confines of the car until she felt as if she’d never get her breath again.
r />   He drew her forearm against his lips, sliding it past his rough cheek, holding her eyes the whole time, studying her like some rare and beautiful thing he’d captured.

  “I use my elbows,” he whispered, drawing her imperceptibly closer, his voice caressing, seductive. “And I’ve never had a single complaint. Would you like me to prove it?”

  Her heart was hammering wildly in her trembling body. She stared at him and couldn’t look away, and she was suddenly afraid.

  “Little coward,” he murmured, watching the expressions chase each other in her eyes. “Are you really afraid of me?”

  She cleared her throat. “I’m hungry,” she lied.

  “For me?” he asked humorously.

  She tore her hand out of his grasp and edged back into the corner by the door, glaring at him like some fierce little animal.

  “You’re priceless,” he chuckled. “Did you think I was going to make a pass at you in front of Jimson?”

  “Jimson is trained not to look,” she reminded him, her voice strangely breathless. “And it’s not kind of you to make fun of me.”

  “I can’t help it. You rise to the bait so sweetly.” He cocked his head at her, his eyes watchful. “Haven’t you ever wondered in all these years what kind of lover I’d be?”

  She averted her eyes then dropped them. “Yes,” she said finally, because she’d never made a habit of lying to him.

  “Well,” he prodded. “What did you think?”

  She glanced at him with unfamiliar shyness. “That you’d be heavy,” she grinned.

  He laughed softly. “And what else?” he persisted.

  She shrugged. “Tender,” she said softly. Her eyes met his across the space. “Patient. A little rough.”

  “Not demanding?” he asked quietly, and there were deep undercurrents in the conversation.

  “Are you?” she asked involuntarily.

  “It depends on the woman,” he replied. “But I can be patient. And tender, when I need to be.”

  “How...how do you like a woman to be?” she asked breathlessly.

  He stared at her, his eyes darkening, his face hardening with emotion, and there was an electricity between them like nothing Keena had ever experienced.

  “The Palace, sir.” Jimson’s pleasant voice interrupted their wordless communication as he stopped the car in front of the exclusive restaurant.

  Keena drew in a breath in relief, wondering what had gotten into her to make her ask such an intimate question. It must be my age, she thought wildly, waiting for him to come around and open her door.

  “I think we’re going to have to do some talking when I come back from Paris,” he said on the way inside, “I’ve got something in mind that might benefit us both.”

  “You want me to design you a wardrobe!” she said with mock enthusiasm. “Something suitably flashy, but elegant, to go with this car. Frankly, I don’t think the job’s for me, but...”

  “Damn you!” He burst out laughing in spite of himself. “Come on and feed me before I take a bite out of you!”

  It was impossible not to notice as they made short work of filet mignon and lobster, buttery rolls, a salad and rich red wine that he was paying more attention to Keena than he was to the food.

  She stopped in the act of lifting a piece of steak to her mouth, staring across the white linen-covered table at him. “Why are you watching me so closely?” she asked with a faint laugh. “Afraid I’m going to try to walk out with the silver?”

  “You remind me of a pixie,” he murmured absently. “Mischievous little face, teasing eyes slanted just a bit at the corners, perfect little mouth. You look as if you’re out of place in this setting, and I’ve only just noticed it.”

  “I’m twenty-seven,” she reminded him, “and I’d hardly fit under a leaf in somebody’s forest.”

  “Twenty-seven,” he echoed quietly. His dark eyes narrowed. “And you barely seem half that to me.”

  “It’s because you’re so old,” she told him with mock seriousness. “Entering the golden years, where your bones creak and your eyesight is slowly dimming...”

  “Damn you,” he growled harshly. “Shut up!” His tone was venomous, so controlled that it seemed to shudder with sudden rage.

  It was unexpected, and it silenced Keena immediately. She’d always teased Nicholas, from the beginning, and often about his age. He’d always laughed. But tonight she’d caught him on the raw for the first time, and he wasn’t laughing. His face had snapped closed like something untamed. His eyes were the only things in his broad, hard face that seemed alive, and they were blazing with menace. She’d only seen Nicholas this angry once, when one of her coworkers had gotten miffed when she refused his advances. Nicholas had intended to surprise her in the office that day and had come in on them unexpectedly. Keena was sure that she could have subdued the young man without any help. But Nicholas, summing up the situation with a glance, had not stopped to ask for an invitation to rescue her. She’d learned later that he’d broken the young man’s jaw. And ever since she’d carefully avoided antagonizing him.

  Until now. And it hadn’t been deliberate. “Nicholas, I was only teasing,” she said softly.

  That didn’t calm him a bit. He picked up his wineglass with a grip that threatened to snap the slender stem and drained it in one huge gulp.

  “Nicholas, please,” she whispered, shivering a little in the face of his white-hot anger. “Don’t be angry with me.”

  He set the wineglass down with slow, deliberate movements before he pinned her with his eyes. “I’m forty, not eighty, and all the parts still work. If you don’t believe that, ask Maria,” he added icily.

  She chewed on her lower lip. She hadn’t meant to pull the lion’s tail, but he was reacting in a way she’d never expected. Amazingly, she felt tears prick at her eyes and that was new, too. She hadn’t cried for years. But she felt tears damming up in her eyes now.

  She put her napkin down very gently, avoiding Nicholas’s blazing eyes. “Uh, if you don’t mind, I’ve an early start tomorrow,” she managed in a shadow of her normal tone.

  “Would you like dessert?” he asked with glacial courtesy.

  She stared at him with a brave but trembling arch in her chin. “Only if I get to pour it over your head,” she managed with dripping sweetness.

  For an instant, amusement vied with anger in his face, but it was quickly subdued. “Let’s go, then,” he said.

  She preceded him out of the restaurant after he’d paid the check, walking quickly, her slender legs rippling the sensuous velvet of her dress, her head held as regally as a princess’s.

  “Careful you don’t sprain your neck,” he chided.

  “Your temper’s more in danger of a sprain than my neck is,” she countered coolly. “If you’d rather brood for a while, I can get a cab back to my apartment,” she added. “I’ve had a pretty rotten day so far, and tonight isn’t making up for it.”

  “Stop it,” he growled, nodding to Jimson as they reached the car. He opened the door for Keena as Jimson got in under the wheel and cranked the engine.

  “I didn’t start it,” she returned, avoiding his hand as she got into the seat that he was holding the door open to. She moved as far away from him as possible when he got in beside her and closed the door.

  “Don’t pout, for God’s sake,” he shot at her with a hard glare.

  She returned the glare with interest. It was the first major argument they’d had, and it was beginning to set records for antagonism.

  “I’ll pout if I damn please!” she flared up, hunched in her corner. “Why don’t you go find Maria if you want a sparring partner? I didn’t try to lure you into my bed and then refuse to let you go when you were tired of me.”

  “You wouldn’t know what to do with me if you got me into your bed,” he returned with malice.


  She started to make a smart remark back, but she was suddenly too tired to make the effort. It had been a perfectly horrible day; and it was just getting worse. Now her only friend was furious with her, and she wanted to wail.

  They rode in a tense silence until Jimson pulled up at the curb in front of her apartment house and sat looking straight ahead while Keena reached for the doorknob.

  But a big, warm hand got there first, holding hers where it rested on the handle.

  “Not like this,” he said heavily, his tone strained. “I can’t leave for Europe tomorrow with a sword between us.”

  “Why not?” she countered, not looking at him. “I’ve seen you walk away from worse—and laugh.”

  “Not you,” he said quietly. “Never you.”

  The tone of his voice more than the words calmed her. She turned slowly and looked up at him. He was closer than she’d realized, his dark eyes only inches away, the warmth and fragrance of his big body permeating her, drowning her in sensation.

  “I don’t think you’re old,” she whispered unsteadily, affected by him as she’d never been before. “I’ve never paid any attention to the age difference. It never mattered.”

  His dark eyes searched hers with a scrutiny that made her nervous. “Tease me about my size, or my money, or my temper. But leave birthdays out of it from now on.”

  She swallowed. “All right, Nicholas.”

  He removed his hand from hers as if it burned him. “I’ll see you when I get back. It may take two weeks to close this deal, so don’t expect me before the middle of February.”

  Two weeks without him. The bleak winter was going to move even slower until he returned, and she was just realizing how empty her life was going to be without those unexpected visits and phone calls. He’d been away from the city for long periods before and it hadn’t bothered her. But suddenly it did, and she looked up at him with a curious frown above her pale green eyes.

  “You look strange,” he remarked.

  “We haven’t argued in a long time. In fact, I don’t really think we ever did,” she said gently, her eyes troubled.