Bid Me Now (18 page)

Detouring past the dancers, she turned to smile a firm “no thanks” to a cowboy offering to buy her a drink when, as if some preternatural power had taken over her brain, she glanced toward an alcove in a far corner.
 

He was partly obscured by a necking couple, but she instantly recognized the dark head, chiseled profile, and line of his broad shoulders.
 

Nick.
 

Was he alone? Of course she needed to know. To ruin her night. Please, please get out of the way, she silently begged the necking couple, until finally they moved.
 

Miri froze. He wasn’t alone. A woman sat so close to him, they had to be a couple. Nick watched his date’s face as she talked, giving her one of his gorgeous lopsided grins and laughing when she slapped him playfully on the arm. Miri closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the woman had leaned back and was running a hand over her stomach.

Pregnant.
 

Miri’s breath stalled in her throat. She tried to take a step, but her legs had lost their power of movement. The only piece of her still functioning was her primal flight instinct. She needed to escape before he saw her. And without a shadow of a doubt, she knew Nick would sense her presence and turn to look at her.
 

Then he would…what? Gloat?
 

She stood there, sucking in breaths as if the room had lost its oxygen. It took a dancer jostling her out of the way for Miri to finally rediscover her legs. Stumbling through the crowded dance floor to the bar, she crawled onto a stool Bree had saved.
 

“Got you a strawberry margarita,” Bree said, pushing something pink in a glass toward her. “Anything wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Oh, nothing. Thanks for the drink. I’ve never had one of these.” She took a sip; it tasted strong. Perfect for numbing the mind. She drained it in four gulps.
 

Abe was talking. “Miri, this is Alan Petersen, new reporter with the
Chronicle
. Alan, meet Miri Jamieson, our famous sculptor.”

Alan smiled. “Hi, Miri. Famous sculptor, eh?”
 

She forced a distracted stare up at Alan’s face. Fortyish, with sandy-colored hair and a kind face. A nice guy. Not like the rat sitting over there in the corner with his pregnant girlfriend. “Hello, Alan. Abe’s exaggerating.”
 

She looked around to check whether Nick was in view from where she was sitting. He wasn’t. It was best the others didn’t know he was here, and it was unlikely he would see her now, considering the place was packed.
 

“So what does a duty reporter do at the Atlanta Bar?” she asked Alan, trying to take her mind off Nick and his significant other, at the same time knowing it wouldn’t work.

“We always review the guest band, and of course there are usually celebrities to write about.”
 

“Sure. You want another margarita, Bree?” Not waiting for an answer, Miri signaled the barkeep for two more.
 

Bree propped her elbows on the bar and rested her chin in her hands. “Pity that Marcus had to go, but there are plenty of hotties here.” Turning her head to one side, she leaned close. “Don’t look now, but at three o’clock, there’s one fine cowboy looking at you.”

Miri was happy not to look. “No hook-ups.”

“Aw, shucks, cowgirl,” Bree drawled with a shake of her blonde head. “He’s cute. Just take a look.”

“No! I’m celibate now,” Miri declared stupidly, finishing her drink in a single swallow.
 

Bree made a loud snort. “Jeez, Miss League of Decency, you don’t have to lay him, just smile at him. Haven’t you noticed? There are men everywhere looking at you.”

“Don’t be silly. Smiling leads to other things. Another strawberry thingy, please, bartender.”

Bree giggled and pushed her glass next to Miri’s. “Make that two.”
 

The bartender grinned at them as he mixed their drinks. “You two be careful with those. They’ll leave you legless.”

Miri stared at his name badge and smiled right back. “Thanks, Jerry.” She raised her glass and sucked down most of it. “Here’s to legless women, Jerry,” she toasted, suddenly aware that Jerry was slightly out of focus. This would have to be her last.
 

“Miri.”
 

His deep, instantly recognizable voice caught her just as she lowered her drink. But even then, she couldn’t quite believe it was him. He couldn’t possibly be so tactless as to introduce his girlfriend. Her first instinct was to pretend she hadn’t heard him. But when Miri looked to her left, Bree was gaping at Nick like one of those sideshow clowns that people throw balls into, and on her other side, Abe and Alan were staring, wide-eyed. For a moment, Miri considered sliding off her stool and walking away so he would have no choice but to leave. But attempting a straight walk on one too many strawberry margaritas was too much to ask.
 

She turned.

Oh, God, he looked good. Under the bar’s shaded lights, the hard planes of his handsome face were lost in shadow, his eyes dark pools. A woman could drown in those eyes.
 

She had.

She worked up a fake smile. “Hey, Nick. You havin’ a good night?”
 

Nick dipped his head in an easy nod. “Yeah.” His eyes coasted down her body, and Miri felt it in a heartbeat. The familiar ache of desire. This was the last thing she needed. Drunk and horny for Nick.
 

“We’re just on our way out,” Nick continued, watching her with an unidentifiable expression.
 

Miri shrugged and turned back to face the bar. “Well, don’t let us hold you up.”
 

Alan cleared his throat. “Hi, I’m Alan Petersen from the
Chronicle
. Aren’t you the guy who bought the old mill? And now there’s an injunction on pulling it down?”
 

“Yeah, that’s me. Except the injunction was lifted two hours ago.”

Miri swung round, nearly tipping off her stool. Grabbing Bree’s arm for support, she blinked her vision into focus. “Well, thanks for that news. Now you can get back to your date. I hear your hotel suite is a good place to take dates,” she snickered, staring straight ahead at the metal buttons on his denim shirt.
 

Nick shook his head in confusion. “Date? She’s not… ”
 

Miri wasn’t about to give him time to introduce his girlfriend. How rude. She leaned forward and finger-stabbed him in the middle of his chest. “No need to explain. You know what you are? You’re a rat. A big
rat
with a nice ass. And I don’t give a rat’s ass for you.” She giggled at her joke. “Don’t you have buildings to pull down? Time’s a-wasting, ya know.”
 

Nick’s face cleared in comprehension. “You’re
drunk
!”

Miri shook her head so hard the room spun. “I am not!” Holding on to Bree’s arm again, she leaned back on her stool. “We’re just having a couple of cocktails, aren’t we, Bree?”

“Absolutely,” confirmed Bree with a loud hiccup. “Nick, you need to understand something here. This is the enemy camp, and you’re in it!”

“How are you going to get these two home?” he asked, turning to Abe.

Miri burped. “That’s none of your business, Rat Nick.”
 

Abe sighed and shook his head apologetically. “Under the circumstances, Nick, you’d better go. We’ll be fine.”

“These two don’t look fine.”

How dare the rat assume she wasn’t fine. She was terrific. She just needed another drink. Focusing on Jerry, Miri tried to wink at him, but her eyelids seemed drunk. “Two berries, Jerry…” She paused to organize her words, determined to have another drink even if it meant climbing over the bar and helping herself. “Two pink…. You know what I mean, don’t you? Would you be my boyfriend, Jerry?”
 

“You’ve both had enough,” growled Abe from behind her.
 

“Abe’s being all caveman tonight,” giggled Bree, standing to wrap her arms around his neck. “Oh, but he’s so cute when he’s mad. Abe, take me home for some caveman sex!”

Abe pulled her arms down and stepped back. “Damn it, we’re leaving before you get even more embarrassing.” He turned to Jerry. “Can you call us a cab?”

Alan cleared his throat again. “No need — I’ll drive you folks home. Being the duty reporter means no alcohol.”

Miri looked up at Alan’s kind face. “Thanks, Alan, You’re a real gent, not like the
rat
here.
 

She turned to glare resentfully at Nick, hating herself for her embarrassment and hating him for her jealousy. He’d ruined everything. Her pre-Nick life hadn’t added up to much romantically, but then, how could she miss what she’d never had? Her art had filled her days. Now she couldn’t even claim to be back to square one. She was so far before square one, she’d never catch up.

She felt the first pricks of tears. “Go away.”
 

“Nick, is everything all right?” Nick’s girlfriend stepped forward, and Miri’s eyes darted to her round belly. She had to be close to six months.

 
“Everything’s fine, Cate. Meet Miri, Bree, Abe, and Alan. This is my sister Catherine. She’s staying in Charmford for a few days.”
 

In the face of Catherine’s charming smile, Miri’s brain and body froze, except for her mouth, which she could feel opening and closing like an aquarium fish. Focusing with difficulty on Cate, she could see the resemblance. The woman was obviously genetically blessed like her brother. Tall, runway-model cheekbones, dark hair in a short glossy bob. And sober.

Catherine smiled. “Yes, Charmford is lovely. I envy you living in such a beautiful town.” She turned and gave Miri a warm smile. “I saw your
Sins
exhibition in New York, Miri. Wonderful work.”
 

“Thank you.” Miri tried to get her eyes to focus on Nick to read his reaction, but she couldn’t interpret his flinty stare through her haze. What was he thinking? That she was one big embarrassing screw-up, no doubt.

Fat tears came out in sympathy with her self-pity. Slipping off the stool and praying for stability, she only just managed to avoid falling as she groped for her bag and turned to Abe with wet, pleading eyes.
Please can we go?
she mouthed at him.

Abe was clearly pissed as he paid the tab, and for a moment Miri thought he was going to walk out and leave her and Bree standing there. But he put an arm around her waist and, encircling Bree’s waist with his other arm, he started for the door. “Alan,” he said grimly, “lead the way.”
 

Alan grabbed his jacket. “Right. Ah, well, Nick, I can’t say I approve of your actions in suing the paper.”
 

“So noted. Take it easy, you guys.”

Miri kept her head down as Abe escorted them through the crowd. Never in her short life had she been so pleased to hear the chirrup of a car’s electronic unlocking system. Crawling gratefully into the back seat alongside Bree, she thought longingly of her bed. The whole evening had started out so fine. Great music. Dancing with Marcus. Strawberry margaritas.
 

“You girls better not throw up in Alan’s car,” warned Abe from the front passenger seat.
 

Bree hiccuped. “Nah, we’re fine. Mademoiselle here has gone to sleep.”

Miri stirred briefly, closed her eyes again, and thought about Nick’s ass all the way home.
 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Hangover Hotel.”
 

“Abe?”

“Yeah. Oh, Nick. You’ll be wanting to talk to Miri.”

“How’s her head?”

“She’s holding it, so I guess it’s hurting. I’ll put her on.”

Nick heard the phone being put down, and then Miri’s sleepy voice in the background. “Who is it?”
 

“You know who it is.”

“I don’t want to talk to
him
.”

“Then tell him.”

“You tell him.
Pleeease
.”

“No.”

“I’ll get you for this, Abe Bryant. Hello,” came Miri’s grumpy voice into the phone.

“It’s the rat.”

“Yes.”
 

“How are you feeling?”

“What do you want?”
 

That was snappish. “I want you to meet me today.”

“I’m busy.”
 

“Chicken busy?”
 

“No! There’s nothing to talk about!”
 

Nick sighed, picturing her sitting at her kitchen table with her sore head and running hot on morning-after embarrassment. “I’m flying to London tomorrow. I want to talk to you before I leave.”

Silence, then Bree’s loud voice in the background. “Any acetaminophen left? Are you talking to Marcus about last night?”

“Shh, look in the drawer over there. Why can’t you tell me now?”

A hot stab of jealousy caught Nick hard in his gut. Of course, she would go for a night out. Why wouldn’t she? But he hadn’t expected Marcus Carter. The guy must have been called away on some emergency.

Nick knew his voice had turned to gravel when he answered. “It’s best that I tell you in person.”
 

“Why?”

For once, Nick was almost grateful for her pain-in-the-ass behavior. At least it took his mind off Carter. “Meet me and find out.”

“No.” Silence again, then, “Well, I guess if it’s important. But it will have to be late this afternoon.”

At last some progress. “Where would you like to meet?”
 

“The mill.”

“Are you sure? What about somewhere more comfortable like the Round Bean?”

“No. The mill.”
 

“Okay. Can I pick you up at…say, four o’clock?”

“No need. I’ll meet you there,” came the curt response.
 

“Right, well, I’ll see you at four.”

Nick put his cell phone down and stared into his cold coffee. He shouldn’t be surprised by anything Miri said or did, but Margarita Miri definitely exceeded anything even he could have imagined. That and calling him a rat. Quaint. He’d been called a heartless bastard a few times, but never a rat. If the situation hadn’t been so damned difficult and his need to see her so great, it would have been funny. Okay, maybe not funny. He wanted her like hell, and there was nothing funny in that. Besides, Miri wouldn’t be doing much laughing today. She’d be fiery. Hung over. Hell, she’d probably hit him again with her little fist. He was beginning to wonder what was wrong with him in persisting with a woman who was so much work. Well, he’d known she’d be work all along, and it hadn’t stopped him. Now he couldn’t stop.