Heart Of Gold (24 page)

When she
hung up the phone, she realized she'd taken a seat in his chair and was staring
out over piles of documents. Idly, she looked over the fax machine, two other
phones, and a laptop.

Procrastinating,
she peered over at a stack of papers, seeing where he'd put notes down in the
margins. The handwriting was bold and decisive, his comments direct. She
thumbed through a couple of pages and kept seeing the name CoramTrans.
Something triggered in her memory but she couldn't quite recall where she'd
heard the name before.

Enough,
she thought, getting to her feet. She was just prolonging the inevitable.

Leaving
her backpack and her notes behind, she went looking for him. When she got close
to the kitchen, she caught a whiff of something that smelled like roasted
turkey. Her stomach grumbled with approval.

As she
opened the butler's door a crack, she saw Nick standing over the stove. He had
a carving knife and fork in his hands.

“You
eat yet?” he asked over his shoulder.

Carter
was amazed he'd heard her. “No, but—”

“It's
Gertie's night off. The plates are to the right of me. I think she left a salad
in the refrigerator.”

“I
didn't come here to have dinner with you.”

“Fine,
then just get out one plate. You talk, I'll eat.” When she hesitated, he
looked across the room. His eyes held a frank challenge.

Girding
herself, Carter marched over to the cabinet and took out two plates.

There was
no damned way she was going to look weak in front of him. Even if it took every
lick of strength she had, she was going to get through the meal, make the report,
and then get the hell back to camp. Pride would carry her through, if nothing
else.

Besides,
she thought, the night was young. She'd still have plenty of time to lose it in
her tent later.

“In
here or the dining room?” she demanded. When he nodded toward the
oak table, she took the plates over.

“Silverware?”
she asked stiffly.

He
glanced to his left. “Napkins are in the drawer under it.”

Before
she knew it she'd set the table, he'd brought the turkey platter over, and they
were sitting down across from each other in his kitchen having dinner.

While
wondering how in the hell it had come to pass, Carter started eating. The food
was good. The silence was awful. All she could hear in the kitchen was the
sound of silverware hitting plates. Halfway through the meal she realized she
couldn't take it any longer. She put her fork and knife down, knotted up the
napkin, and was about to leave when his voice stopped her.

“The
last woman I said the words to was my mother.” Nick put a piece of turkey
into his mouth.

“What
are you talking about?” Her eyes narrowed.

In the
ensuing quiet, Nick just kept eating. He had perfect table manners. Cutting the
meat carefully, laying the knife down, shifting the fork to his other hand,
lifting a piece to his mouth.

“The
words I love you. Last time was to my mother. And I didn't mean
them.” His voice was characteristically direct. “I remember
distinctly because I told myself I wouldn't say them again until I did mean
them.”

Carter
held herself very still. “What does this have to do with me?”

“I'm.
. . glad we made love.” Heat flickered in his face and then impatience. “Glad.
What a stupid goddam word. Ruined, is more like it. All I've been thinking
about since yesterday is how lucky I was to have been with you. And what an
idiot I was to blow it all like I did.”

A flush
bloomed in Carter's body and she twisted the napkin in her hands. “I don't
want to talk about what happened.”

“Yesterday
meant so much to me.”

“I
find that hard to believe.”

“You
are the first woman ... to really have affected me.” Nick wiped his mouth
and leaned back in his chair. “I regret the fact that I couldn't put into
words how much yesterday meant. And how damn scary it was for me.”

She
searched his face. He was regarding her with such frankness and honesty, she
couldn't find a toehold to mistrust him. As hard as she looked for one.

This was
how she'd gotten hurt, she reminded herself. By believing in him.

“I
don't have to listen to this.” She rose from the table and he stood up
with her.

“Carter,
I don't have a clue where this is going between us.”

“Well
then let me spell it out for you. Try nowhere.”

“I
will not accept that.”

“You
don't have a choice!”

He
brushed a hand through his hair. “This whole thing scares the hell out of
me. I like to be in control and, when I'm with you, I'm not. I panicked and I
said some really stupid, god-awful things.”

When she
didn't reply, he said roughly, “I'm a clueless son of a bitch when it
comes to real relationships, but I'm willing to try harder. With you. You've
got to believe me, no one has ever made me feel like you do.”

Carter
shook her head. “I'm not listening to this.”

He
reached out and took her hand. “I just want another chance.”

Her body
flushed as the memories of them making love came back. She found herself
wanting to believe him. Heaven help her, she did.

“Nick,
you hurt me.”

“I
know. And I'm so goddam sorry.”

Looking
into his eyes, she saw torment and tenderness. “You're not an easy man to
trust.”

He opened
up her hand and stroked the pad of his thumb across the
inside of her palm. The sensation was hypnotic. Slowly, he raised her hand up
and brushed his lips against her skin.

“Are
you trying to seduce me?” she asked softly.

“Yes.”
The word hung between them.

When he
drew her closer, Carter went reluctantly into his embrace.

“I
want you,” he groaned against her hair. “And I don't want to hurt
you.”

She
pulled back and studied him closely. He looked truly contrite and seemed to
understand, and regret, the pain he had caused. There was a vulnerability in
him, too, as if he was unsure whether he would be forgiven.

She
wanted him. And she wanted to forgive him even though she would remember the
hurt. She made up her mind.

“If
I give you my body, that doesn't mean I'm giving you my heart.”

With
those words, meant as much for him as for herself, she lifted her lips for his
kiss. When their mouths met, she melted into his solid body.

“I
hate this,” she moaned as his hands cupped her breasts. “I hate you.”

“I'll
take it,” he said hoarsely. “Whatever you'll give me, I’ll
take.”

They
stayed only a moment longer in the kitchen. Next thing she know, they
were fumbling toward the stairs and doing an awkward pas de deux to the
second floor. As they made their way down the hall, pieces of clothing marked
their path as shirts were stripped and then pants.

“What
about Cort?” she mumbled breathlessly.

“Out
at a friend's house. God, I need you so much,” Nick growled against her
mouth. His hands were under her bra, cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing
over the aching tenderness of her nipples, making her cry out.

They
burst into what she assumed was Nick's bedroom. She had a fuzzy impression of
deep red, royal gold, and dark green, but vision left her entirely as his mouth
took her breast and he lifted her onto the bed. She felt the mattress come
underneath her and then his weight on top of her. Carter raked her nails into
his back as she felt his body press against her.

As he
came up to kiss her again, she caught an image of the desperation in him.
Whatever else was going on inside of him, he wanted her. That much she knew for
sure.

Lips
fused together, she removed what was left of his clothing by pushing his boxer
shorts off his legs, and he did the same for her by flinging her panties to the
floor. Hungrily, she kissed him and opened her legs so that he could come
between them. When she felt his hardness brush against her, she cried out.

“I
want to go slower,” he groaned. “But I can't.”

He drove
inside of her and she held on tight as he thrusted again. Wrapping her long
legs around his hips, she urged him on with her own pumping, It was a dizzying,
frenetic ride, born out of pent up anger and frustration, and she called
out his name as she was hurled toward the sky.

Afterward,
he fell against her. His magnificent body utterly spent, she felt him relax as
a peaceful euphoria passed through her as well.

When he
lifted his head, his voice was grave. “I didn't sleep last night.”

“No?”

“I
shut my eyes but all I could see was you. I missed you. I couldn't stomach the
idea that I'd never be with you again. That I had lost you.” He kissed
her, a long slow caress of lip on lip, tongue on tongue. Inside of her, she
could feel him growing big again.

Rolling
over and moving her on top of him, he stroked her with his eyes and his hands.
With abandonment, she sat up, and he moaned as he cupped the weight of her
breasts. This time, they made love more slowly, savoring the feel of the
touching and teasing until passion won out over patience and they came together
in an inferno of sensation.

As they
lay together afterward, Carter felt an unexpected sadness. In spite of how
close they had been physically, she still didn't trust him completely. The
distance hurt but she wasn't going to talk about it. Words were not going to
bring them closer.

Maybe
time. Perhaps in time there could be trust.

“When
does Cort get home?” she wondered aloud, looking toward the open door and
the clothes strewn out into the hall.

“Eleven.”
Nick glanced over at the brass clock. “We've got ten minutes!”

Scurrying
from the bed, they went after their clothes frantically, bending down, picking
things up, switching boxers for panties, khakis for trousers, racing out into
the hall after shirts. In a mad dash to the finish line, they came to a
screeching halt before the front door just as the grandfather clock in the
living room began to make its announcement of the hour.

“Your
shirt,” Nick said, as he was tucking his in.

Carter
saw that her buttons were in the wrong holes and scrambled to reorder them.

When the
clock fell silent, their panting breaths sounded loud in the quiet house.

“After
all that, he's really going to get it for being late,” Nick said dryly.

With
their clothes back on, Carter felt surprisingly more vulnerable. She cleared
her throat. “I guess I'm going to leave now.”

His eyes
locked on to hers. “You don't have to go.”

She
didn't answer the subtle inquiry in his eyes. She just turned and walked away.

“I
left my backpack in your study,” she said over her shoulder.

Carter
went into the dim room and picked up her pack. Before she left, she wandered
over to his desk, amazed at what had happened since she'd sat in his chair and
talked to Grace. Her eyes passed over the papers and caught the word CommTrans
again.

“You're
looking at my desk as if it holds an answer for you.”

She looked
up, not hiding the uncertainty in her eyes. Nick was leaning against the
doorjamb, the light from overhead cascading down on him. It illuminated his
high cheekbones, his strongly molded lips, and the rigid length of his jaw.

“Tell
me, Carter, what answer are you looking for?” His voice was husky and she
was reminded of what it sounded like in her ear as he drove into her body.

“The
one that tells me who you really are.” She shrugged on her backpack and
started to walk out.

She
passed by him only to be pulled into his arms. The kiss he gave her had an
urgency that was not just about passion.

“You
are different to me,” he vowed.

Carter
reached up to his handsome face and ran her fingers down his cheek. “Right
now I might be. We'll see about later, won't we?”

And then
she left the house.

Under the
clear night sky, she walked across the lawn and through the meadow. It was
chilly and she paused to get her fleece out of the pack before she went into
the woods. As she was pulling it over her head, she heard a chorus of cracking
twigs.

Cort came
charging out of the brush at a dead run and careened into her.

“Carter!”

“Easy
there, rough rider.” She grinned as she helped steady him.

“What
are you doing out here?”

“Just
met with your uncle.” She was grateful for the night's cover as blood
rushed to her face. “What about you? I thought you went into town with
friends.”

“I
did—for a little while. It wasn't much fun so I—er, went up to see ...”

So she
wasn't the only one blushing in the dark, Carter thought.

“Anyway,
I think I'm a little late for curfew.”

With a
sheepish wave, the kid took off in the direction of his home.

“Yes,
you certainly are late,” she said softly.

Shaking
her head, she took out her flashlight, shined a shallow beam in front of
herself, and penetrated the forest.

As she
followed the trail, she replayed the evening over and over again in her mind.
The way Nick had spoken to her, the way he'd touched and kissed her. Her heart
pounded as she hiked up to camp, and not just from exertion.

She was
not going to fall in love with Nick Farrell, Carter promised herself.

* * *

Nick was
sitting at his desk when he heard Cort come through the door. The kid called
out but didn't stop and talk on his way upstairs. He was ten minutes late but
Nick wasn't going to get on his case about it.

Feeling
restless, Nick left his desk and walked out of the French doors onto the porch.
Taking a seat in a wicker chair, he was watching the moonlight on the lake when
he heard a voice drift down through the night air.