Bid Me Now (7 page)

He grinned and fired the engine. “Thank you, ma’am.”
 

Miri put her seat belt on and sighed. It was too late to make a run for it.
 

• • •

This was too romantic. Nick hadn’t intended romantic, but this place was romance personified. All soft lights and tables set for two. The last thing he wanted was Miri thinking his dinner invitation was a prelude to some sort of seduction. As appealing as the thought of bedding her might be, that wasn’t his intention. At least not tonight. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind a hundred times during the drive over. Well, it hardly mattered what he thought or intended. Not with her sitting there all straight-backed and as tense as a fiddle string. He’d be lucky to get a handshake out of her, let alone a goodnight kiss.

But hell, she did look good. So melt-in-the-mouth good, it was all he could do to keep his libido under control. In her short black dress, every slender curve was displayed to perfection, and with her dark glossy hair worn up, her pale neck and shoulders glowed under the soft lights. She’d turned every head in the restaurant, although she seemed oblivious.

He signaled the waiter. “I hope you enjoy the food here. The place was recommended by the hotel concierge.”
 

She shifted in her seat and glanced solemnly around the restaurant. “It looks nice.”
 

Nick sighed inwardly. Maybe she’d loosen up by dessert.
 

While the waiter set out menus and poured water, Nick checked the wine list. “What would you like to drink? Red, white, or something else?”

“White wine would be nice.”
 

“White wine it is.”
 

Nick studied the list of whites, suddenly aware that Miri was no longer studying the décor. She was now very carefully studying him from under her lashes. Checking him out. Up and down, side to side. Catching a real eyeful.

Maybe a tease would get past all that armor. “See something you like?” A second later, Nick could have kicked himself, as a deep red climbed up her neck like mercury up a thermometer.

“Sorry…what? Oh, the menu. Yes, it all looks delicious.” She looked wildly around the room as if searching for the bathroom as an excuse to leave the table.
 

Fuck, that went well. Time to segue, and fast. “Your friend Bree is a character.”
 

She turned back and managed a ghost of a smile. “Yes, she is. Bree’s been my roommate for over a year now. A good friend, but a hopeless cook.”

She was still in her seat, so Nick went with the topic. “So you’re the cook?”
 

“I guess. Most of the time. Usually I’m too busy to make anything fancy. We eat Chinese takeout a lot.”

“They say cooking is an art, and you’re an artist, so I guess you’re an expert.”
 

She gave a small lyrical laugh. That sound alone could capture a man in an instant. “I’ve never thought of it like that.”
 

He signaled the waiter. “Well, I hope you’ll enjoy French for a change.”

Miri ordered the
blanquette de veau
, while Nick opted for a medium-rare steak and a bottle of the restaurant’s best sauvignon blanc.
 

“Have you been to France?”
 

Nick nodded. “A few times. It’s not a city for engineers on demolition projects. Better suited to romantic getaways.”

She tilted her head, obviously interested in something he’d just said. “An engineer? What kind of engineer?”
 

He was surprised at her interest, but wasn’t going to question it. Not when her interest felt so good. “Structural. Studied engineering in college, then decided to get into the demolition and salvage business. It’s a big market, so plenty of room for another company.”

“What made you put in a bid for the Charmford Mill?”

Of course she had to ask, that was the deal. But he’d half-hoped she would let the whole thing go. Apparently Miri stuck to her deals.
 

Nick set down his fork and thought about how to explain it to her. It didn’t help that she was looking at him with her chin set in a determined line. He knew what that meant. She’d be on her feet at any moment.

“We were approached by a potential buyer for the land. The buyer didn’t want the financial risk of buying the mill, then paying big money for the demolition and salvage, so we took it on. We get to sell the salvage, which gives us a good profit, as well as the sale of the cleared land.”
 

“Can you…I mean, Brannagh Enterprises pull out of the deal?”
 

“It’s not that simple. The contract with the land developer is airtight. He wants to build an apartment complex.”

“Then you absolutely
have
to pull it down?” she persevered.

Nick tried not to let his exasperation show. “That’s the deal.”

Her green eyes flashed her impatience at his answers. “But surely you can do
something
?”

She was persistent, Nick had to give her that. “Look, if we reneged on the contract, we would be sued and we’d lose. The developer would pull down the building anyway. That’s the business reality.”

Nick tried to read her expression, but she was staring at her fingers closing and unclosing around the stem of her wineglass, as if the thing needed one hundred percent of her attention.
She’s going to stand up for sure
, Nick decided with a sigh. But then unexpectedly she looked up and stared him straight in the eyes.

“I owe you an apology, Nick. I just thought if I offered you more money, then you could sell to me. I should have known it was more complicated.”

Thank God she’s finally got it
. Relief washed over him. “No apology necessary. Will you find somewhere else for your studio?”

“Oh, yes, there will be somewhere,” she said with forced brightness, but Nick guessed that wouldn’t be easy in a town like Charmford. There was obviously something keeping her here.

Before he could ask her, their meals arrived.
 

They settled in to eat. Jean-Paul’s lived up to its reputation as the best restaurant in town.
 

“Do you have family?” she asked halfway through their meal.
 

Nick sat back, surprised at her personal question. “I have an older sister who lives in Toronto, and my dad’s retired in Florida.”

“Do you see them very often?”
 

“Cate is an interior designer, and I usually catch up once a year or so. I make a point of visiting my father every couple of months. Anyway, what about you? How did you come to be in Charmford?”

“We came here when I was sixteen. Charmford Hospital services much of the coast, and my father was offered the position of head of surgery here. We loved the place from day one. Now I don’t think I could ever leave.”

“At the Round Bean you said ‘now there’s just me.’ Do you still have family here?”
 

Nick knew he was on delicate ground, but he wasn’t prepared for the sudden flood of sadness in her face.
 

She moistened her lips and drew a deep breath. “Two years ago, my parents were killed in a car crash just outside Charmford. A head-on with a drunk driver. I was at an art workshop in Chicago when it happened.”

So that was it. The part of her he hadn’t understood now fell into place. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said…”

“No, it’s okay,” she interrupted quickly, with a small reassuring smile. “I don’t talk about it much.” She shook her head as if to clear the memory, and a silky strand of her dark hair fell across her cheek.
 

“How are you coping?”
 

She hooked the tendril behind her ear, frowning as she considered his question. “Most of the time it’s okay. It’s helpful to talk about what happened. Besides, my art keeps me going, along with crazy Bree and friends.”

She was trying hard, but Nick could see it was mostly for his benefit. Damn, why couldn’t he have just left it for her to bring the subject up? “Miri, can I get you something, or would you like to leave?”
 

For a moment she looked confused, as if unsure how to answer, and then she smiled, her eyes brightening. “Dessert would be nice. Something chocolately.”

Nick signaled the waiter again, and ordered one chocolate mousse and a coffee for himself.
 

“Do you like sailing?” It was probably a waste of time inviting her to go sailing. Miri looked too much like a delicate hothouse flower for yachts. But then again, maybe not. Something he’d just said had her sparkling.

“Yes, I
love
sailing. My father had a fifty-foot…” She stopped mid-sentence, and Nick saw her gaze slide beyond him toward the door, then round in surprise. He turned to see a couple standing just inside the door. The man was tall, maybe an inch or so shorter than his own six three, fair-haired, well-dressed. The woman looked to be a similar age, short blonde hair, attractive in an elegant way.

When Nick turned back to Miri, she was smiling, but it looked far too tight to be convincing. Something was going on.

Nick turned back to see the guy casually look around, then frown in recognition when he spotted Miri. He put his hand behind his date’s waist and steered her in their direction.
 

Okay, this would be interesting.

“Hello, Miri. Nice to see you.” The stranger stared hard at Nick.
 

Miri sat rigid, her smile forced. “Hello, Marcus. This is Nick Brannagh. Nick, this is Dr. Marcus Carter. I’m doing a commission for his new medical center.”

Marcus nodded in the direction of his companion. “This is Dr. Mariette Hastings, the hospital’s consulting neurologist.”

Nick stood. “Doctors,” he said, extending a hand across the table, aware that Marcus Carter was now totally focused on Miri. Obviously some history between the two of them, but not romantic, Nick guessed. At least not on her part. But she was embarrassed all right. Like a naughty kid caught sneaking out without permission.

“So, Miri,” said Marcus with a raised brow, sweeping a disapproving gaze over her dress. “I thought you would be too busy finishing the sculpture to leave your studio.” His manner was cordial enough, but Nick caught the brittle sarcasm. Curiosity and resentment were eating the guy alive.

“Yes, it’s just that tonight something came up…” she started to quaver, turning frantic eyes to Nick, looking for all the world like a startled deer caught in a pair of headlights.
 

Nick cleared his throat, looking first at Mariette and then at Marcus. “It’s great to meet you guys, but you’ll have to excuse us. Miri and I are in the middle of a business discussion.”
 

Marcus’ astonishment had Nick almost laughing. “Business discussion? Oh…well, I guess we’d better leave you to it,” he sputtered, although he didn’t sound like he wanted to go anywhere.
 

Mariette coughed. “It is very nice to meet you both. Marcus…?”
 

“Yes, well… see you guys.” Marcus reluctantly escorted Mariette away to find a waiter.

Nick sat back down. Miri had her napkin scrunched in a tight roll, and she was staring at him with almost palpable gratitude.
 

“More wine?” he asked with a grin, tilting the bottle in anticipation.

“Thank you for bailing me out. I didn’t know what to say.”
 

“Busted, eh? No problem. Happy to help a woman in distress. So…?”
 

She drew a slow, deep breath. “Actually, it’s no big deal. It’s just that Marcus asked me out last week to this restaurant. I turned him down, saying I was too busy working on his sculpture—the Egg Beater. The thing is, I’m always busy with a commission, so I hardly ever go out. It’s just that me being here…with you…seems a bit…you know, tactless.”

Nick couldn’t stop his grin of satisfaction, encouraged by her over-worked explanation. “Well, he did make it pretty obvious what he wants, or should I say,
who
he wants, so I guess it’s not surprising.”
 

She looked blank. “Sorry, what do you mean?”

Surely she knew. “He wants
you
. It’s written all over his face.”

“Oh, no, no. That’s not true at all. Marcus is a friend. He did his surgical training under my father, and we’ve kept in touch. Now he’s a client, that’s all. He asked me out to discuss the commission—nothing else.”
 

Yeah, she was in damage control all right. Trying to reassure him that Carter wasn’t important to her other than as a friend. He liked it. Hell, he really liked it. “Take it from me, Ms. Jamieson, he’s only got eyes for you.”

She frowned at that, making Nick wonder whether she really was as naïve as she seemed. “Right, well, here’s your dessert.”
 

While the waiter set the mousse and coffee on the table, Nick caught a glimpse of Marcus and Mariette seated at the far side of the restaurant. Marcus was doing his best to listen to his date’s conversation, but his gaze continually swept across to them. For just a friend and a client, Dr. Carter looked pretty pissed.
 

Nick turned back to watch Miri carefully remove the cherry from the top of the mousse and set it to one side. “What is it with women and chocolate?”

She thought for a moment, her eyebrows drawn together. “A guilty pleasure, perhaps. Like having too many pairs of shoes or not wearing pajamas to bed.” She dolloped a spoonful of mousse into her mouth, licking the tip of her spoon as she flicked a glance over him.
 

Nick felt his brow go up. Apparently, Dr. Carter was forgotten.

“No pajamas, eh?” Nick tried to quell an image of Miri in a pair of old-fashioned pajamas, but there she was, all flannel, elastic, and buttons. Jesus. “So what do you wear, then?” This was dangerous, but he had a sudden urge to know. At least, his libido did. Damn its curiosity.

She laughed, and Nick felt instant heat as she edged her tongue along her top lip. Was this just wishful thinking on his part, or was she flirting?

“Oops. Maybe that wasn’t a good example.” The tip of her tongue flashed again.