Heart Of Gold (36 page)

Air, he
thought. He needed air.

Or maybe
he could've used less scotch over the course of the evening.

That was
probably it.

With more
care than usual, he tied up the boat and started on the walk up to the mansion.
He discovered that as long as he kept his head level, the weaving and dizziness
went away. The night chill seemed to help clear his mind, so he loosened his
bow tie and opened up his starched collar. When that made him feel better, he
took off the tuxedo jacket and slung it over his shoulder.

What a
horrible evening, he thought. The Thorndykes were nice enough, but they'd
invited Candace's father, not knowing about the breakup. The man had railed at
Nick for an hour about how deplorably his daughter had been treated and how
fortunate it was that she'd moved on to someone better.

Nick had
started in with the scotch as soon as Hanson had started in with him. He'd kept
drinking right through the roasting of the pig, which had not gone well. Thanks
to his desire to keep emptying his glass, the entree had emerged from the
ground petrified into a pig chip half the size of what it had been going in.
After attempts to carve the roast broke one knife and dulled two others,
Thorndyke had given up and served his high-class guests hamburgers and hotdogs.
As Nick was leaving, he'd been informed his services as pig-sitter wouldn't be
needed in the future.

He
stopped walking and looked toward the mountain. Squinting through the darkness,
he tried to see if there was a fire going at the campsite.

Was
Carter sleeping, he wondered. Curled on her side, breathing deeply and slowly,
her lashes against her cheeks?

He cursed
out loud as his mood deteriorated further. He'd been berated by Hanson, had
failed at his assigned task of roasting that frigging pig, and was now staring
down the barrel of a royal hangover. But worse, he was mad as hell at Carter
and she was going to be leaving soon.

Nick
raked a hand through his hair as he started for the house. He noticed there
were lights on in the guest wing. The Swifts were down for another evening,
obviously.

His eyes,
more alert, shifted back to the mountain.

He
changed direction.

Going
past the house, he moved quickly through the meadow to the edge of the forest.
Locating the trail in the dark, he scaled the mountain with growing conviction.
As he made his way to the summit, he practiced his speech. About how closed
minded she was, how intolerant, how unfair ...

When Nick
got to the campsite, he saw a glow in Carter's tent and marched right on over.
Wrenching back the flap, he pronounced, "Woman, you need to listen to what
I have to-”

Buddy
Swift looked up from a comic book, surprised.

Nick
blinked, nonplussed.

A chuckle
was sent his way. “I've been called a lot of things, but woman is a
first.”

“Where
is she?” Nick demanded.

“Down
at your house.”

“Oh.”
Nick weaved slightly.

As Buddy
looked at the man who had interrupted his reading, he had to hide his smile
behind Superman #7. It wasn't all that often he saw a billionaire disheveled
and a little tipsy.

“You
okay?”

“Damn
right I am.” Farrells voice was gruff and his eyes were dark with
displeasure. He also looked as if he were going to fall over.

“Say,
you want to take a load off? You look like you need a minute to gather
yourself.”

“Not
a bad idea.”

“Here,”
Buddy got up from the cot, “why don't you sit down. I was just going to
get up and check the perimeter.”

It was
something he'd been doing throughout the night, catnapping and then walking
around between the campsite and the circle of stones. He was trolling for
midnight intruders except, instead of finding one, one had found him.

As he
went about his route, Buddy felt sad for Nick and Carter. They were both
struggling, and he wished that the circumstances around William Wessex's
arrival had been different. Carter had been so happy right before her
father had come. She'd looked young and carefree for the first time since
he'd known her. Truly happy.

When he
didn't find anything out of the ordinary, he went back to camp. As soon as he
stuck his head inside the tent, he groaned.

Snoring
like a bulldog, Nick Farrell was asleep, one arm cast aside and hanging off the
bed, the other tucked into his neck.

The guy
was going nowhere tonight, Buddy thought.

Figuring
he had no choice, he shrugged out of his jacket and rolled it up to make a
pillow. He was hoping the ground was still soft from the rain and that the tent
floor was free of leaks.

* * *

The next
morning, Carter got up early, eager to get out of the house without running
into Nick. She made the bed, put on shorts and a sweatshirt, and went down to
the kitchen. There, she found Cort and Gertie with their heads together,
working at something. They quickly put whatever it was away.

As Carter
murmured a greeting, Cort grunted and pulled his bathrobe around him. He looked
like he'd just rolled out of bed, with his hair matted instead of sticking
straight up and his eyes half closed into slits.

“Go
take a shower and wake up,” Gertie said, shooing at the boy. “You're
making me tired just standing there.”

“Mornin'
Carter,” he mumbled, shuffling past her.

“Rough
night?”

“We
watched Jaws.”

Carter
smiled, imagining they'd had a good time together. “Wouldn't think that
would tire you out so much.”

“We
saw it three times.” He yawned.

“Ah.”

He turned
around. “So Gertie, can we go?”

“You'll
have to ask your uncle.”

Carter
stiffened and looked over her shoulder as if Nick was going to appear any
moment. She began to inch her way to the door.

“Where
is he?” Cort asked.

Gertie
shrugged. “Haven't seen him. Maybe he's still sleeping.”

“Naw.
His bed's made up. I know 'cause I walked by and the door was open.”

Gertie
frowned. “Didn't he come home last night?”

Carter's
stomach heaved and she turned to the door. Gertie, however, stepped into her
path and pressed a mug of coffee into her good hand.

It was
Cort who made it to the door. “I'll go down and check to see if the boat's
back.”

After he
left, Gertie shot her a pointed look. “I'm sure there's a perfectly good
explanation. Nick knows this lake like the back of his hand and he isn't one
for fooling around, if you know what I mean.”

Carter
offered a strained smile over the rim of the mug as she tried to drink the
coffee quickly. She was wondering what was worse, him not coming home because
he'd been in an accident or because he'd spent the night with someone else.

Now those
were two great choices. Like getting to pick between a broken collarbone and a
dislocated shoulder.

“It's
none of my business,” Carter said with finality. “He's a grown man,
free to do what he pleases.”

* * *

The
pounding between his ears woke Nick up and, at first, he thought it was another
migraine. Then he remembered the scotch.

He rolled
over, groaning.

“I
can assure you,” a dry voice said, “I don't like waking up to you
much, either.”

Nick's
eyes snapped open. Even though they refused to focus, he managed to make out
Buddy Swift's wry grin. The man was lying on the ground with his head resting
on a rolled-up parka.

“What
the hell are you doing here?” Nick demanded, his voice full of gravel.

“The
same could be asked of you.”

The guy
had a point, Nick thought, looking around the tent. “What am I doing
here?”

"Don't
know. You showed up in the middle of the night”

Both men
sat up slowly. Nick noticed that Buddy's grimace matched the one he felt on his
own face.

“Does
this mean we're going steady?” the guy asked with a gamine smile.

“Sorry.
We're one-night stand material only. What time is it?”

“Must
be almost seven.”

The two
struggled to their feet. When they emerged from the tent, Nick's eyes strained
against the bright light and the promise of the day. He noticed Buddy didn't
seem any more eager to be up and around.

When the
other man stretched, his body let out a loud crack of protest and he groaned in
response. “Hard to imagine there was a time when my back could handle
anything I threw at it. What the hell was I thinking, tackling that tree by
myself?”

“It's
arrogance.” Nick rubbed his eyes. “Same thing that had me drinking
half a bottle of scotch.”

“I
feel like I've been in a car wreck.”

“I
feel like I am a car wreck.”

“You
want coffee?” Buddy went over and fired up the propane stove.

Nick
nodded. Carefully.

While it
was brewing, Buddy said evenly, “So I guess I wasn't who you were looking
for last night.”

Nick sat
down at the picnic table. “Wasn't looking for anybody. Just out for a
midnight stroll.”

“In
a tuxedo?”

“It
was after five,”

Buddy
laughed. “You sure seemed disappointed to find me in Carter's tent.”

Nick
reached his arms out over his head and bent side to side. “Last night was
scotch-fuelled folly averted by dumb luck. It was a good thing you were in
there.”

Buddy
came over with two mugs, passing one across the table as he sat down. “You
sure about that?”

“Sure
enough.” Nick took a sip and winced. “Good God, this stuff could wake
the dead.”

“Considering
the state we're in, I think it's just the ticket.”

The two
sat drinking in silence, until Buddy said cautiously, “I’ve known Carter a
long time. She seemed happy with you.”

“That's
changed now.”

“I
know. And I wish it hadn't.”

“You
and me both.” Nick put down his half-empty mug.

“You
want more coffee?”

He
started to shake his head but stopped with a grimace. “No. I don't want to
risk having a seizure.”

Buddy
took a big gulp of his. “What a lightweight.”

With a
sardonic smile, Nick got to his feet. “Well, thanks for a lovely
evening.”

“You're
welcome. But tell me, when will I see you again?”

“I'll
call.”

“Sure,
you will.” With a saucy wink, Buddy waved and went back to his coffee.

Nick
headed for the trail, hoping he'd make it down the mountain in one piece.

Carter
swallowed the tail end of her coffee, burning the roof of her mouth. She had no
interest in hearing confirmation that Nick hadn't come home. She'd already made
up her mind about what he'd been doing in the dark hours.

“I
think I'll head up the mountain,” she said to Gertie, trying to force
nonchalance.

“Will
we be seeing you for dinner?”

“I
don't think so. Things should be dry enough up there now.”

And even
if she had to eat cold corn out of a can and sleep in a puddle, she was going
to stay at camp.

“You
shouldn't be worried about Nick. As I said, I'm sure there's a perfectly good
reason behind it all.”

Of course
there is, Carter derided. Like he met up with a six-foot-tall model with hair
the color of the sun and bee-stung lips that could suck start a Harley. The two
were probably planning their wedding in Majorca right now.

“He
wasn't with a woman,” Gertie said evenly, as if she'd read her mind.

Carter
shrugged. “If he was, it's all right. I have nothing to do with his
personal life. It's just business between us.”

At
Gertie's look, she tacked on, “Really.”

“You
two are so alike,” the woman said ruefully.

“We're
both mammals, that's true, but then so are elephants and dolphins.” Carter
opened the door and was almost outside when she remembered the clothes she'd
left upstairs. Bolting through the house, she ran up and grabbed her bag. She
was flying back to the stairs when she saw Nick come through the front door.

She
skidded to a halt, teetering on the top step.

With a
jolt, she saw that he was looking incredibly sexy in a disheveled kind of way.
His tuxedo jacket was slung over one shoulder and his shirt was open at the
collar. Those gray eyes were heavy-lidded and his hair looked as if it had had
fingers running through it.

Whose
fingers, she wondered.

“Good
morning,” Nick said as he looked up at her.

She shot
him an angry look. Shoring up her load, she started down the stairs. When she
got to the bottom, he blocked her way.

“Sleep
well?” he taunted.

“Unlike
you, obviously,” Carter snapped. “You look like hell.”

“It
was quite a night.” He had a sly smile on his face. “Unexpected, to
be sure.”

“I
hope you enjoyed yourself.” She put the bag between them and tried to push
by him but he refused to move. “Do you mind?”

“I
hope you have a good day at work,” he said in a mocking voice.

“You
bet I will. The faster we get finished, the quicker I can get away from
here.”

“The
accommodations on my mountain and in my house aren't to your liking?”

“More
the host,” she hissed, shoving him hard.

He
finally stepped aside and she rushed out the front door.

Carter's
walk up the mountain was punctuated by a lot of curses and some fast footwork.
She made it to camp twice as fast as she usually did.

Buddy was
trying to light a fire when she arrived.

“Food,”
he said by way of greeting. “We need more.”

Carter
collected herself with difficulty. “With the way you pulled down dessert
last night?”