Coming Home (14 page)

Her plan had backfired. Nicole had set out to look enticing, to feel desirable and attractive. She'd done her job too well. She'd awakened a sleeping lion, and within minutes had found herself utterly in thrall to that sensuous power so second nature to Wyatt Clayton.

"I hope you don't mind that I didn't bring the car,” Wyatt said a few minutes later as they left the house, walking toward his pickup. “I'm just so used to driving the truck that I didn't think about it."

Nicole shook her head quickly. "I've been inside your truck. I know it's immaculate.

She had no fear of anything happening to her dress. Her biggest fear was that memories of the last time they'd gone to the dance together would overwhelm her as they sat in the close confines of the truck.

"I thought we'd drive over to Ocala for dinner. There's nowhere to go around here, dressed like this, unless you feel like giving the gossips at the local diner something to talk about for the next several months."

"I think
you
gave them enough to gossip about that time you dumped the pitcher of water all over Mayor Watley's lap while you were clearing the table."

He laughed, long and hard. "Hey, I wasn't the best busboy in the world. But give me a break, I was only seventeen. Besides, I had to do something. His wife was reaching under my apron and giving me a few too many friendly squeezes every time I walked by...somebody had to make that man wake up."

Nicole didn't suppose Wyatt was exaggerating. She remembered Stella Watley. Though Nicole had only been a girl, she'd recognized the oversexed woman for what she was, long before she’d heard the term ‘cougar.’

"Sounds like Mrs. Watley needed the lap full of cold water," Nicole murmured.

"She got hers later."

Nicole raised a questioning eyebrow, wondering exactly what the older woman had "gotten" from Wyatt.

"Don't give me that look," Wyatt said with an evil chuckle. "What she got from me was a verbal pitcher of cold water...when she cornered me one afternoon in the back of the diner, I told her how much I liked her hair because she reminded me so much of my grandmother who died when I was a kid."

"Ouch."

"Right. That was the end of Mrs. Watley's wandering hands. Of course, it was also the end of my busboy job, since Mrs. Watley's sister owned the diner and somebody told her I'd been giving free food to my friends."

Their conversation during the drive to Ocala continued in the same light, friendly vein. Gradually, Nicole felt her body slip from high gear into low. She began to relax; her legs finally stopped quivering. Throughout the trip, and then the dinner at the small Italian restaurant which actually served a decent manicotti, Wyatt never gave her one of those looks that told her he'd already mentally stripped her dress off and made love to her in every way possible. She told herself she wasn't disappointed.

He also didn't flirt with her. At least, not too much. Wyatt Clayton could never go for long without at least a little flirting. He'd managed to restrain himself until he ordered the raspberry sherbet for dessert. "Gee, looks about the same color as the shimmer in your dress," Wyatt commented as he lifted a spoonful of the pink confection toward his lips.

Nicole couldn't even swallow the mouthful of cheesecake she'd been chewing. She silently watched him lick every drop of sherbet off his spoon. When he closed his eyes and murmured, "M'm, tastes as good as it looks, just like I knew it would. All cool and wet and so very sweet," she swallowed so hard she choked on her cheesecake.

Wyatt raised a questioning brow as she grabbed for her water glass and took a few quick swallows. She saw the grin dancing around his lips. When she was able to speak, she glared at him and hissed, "Fiend."

"Would you have me any other way?"

"I don't have you at all," she retorted.

"Maybe we could change that."

Before Nicole could reply, their waiter returned with the check. She breathed a sigh of relief at the interruption, not ready to continue the conversation. When they stood to leave, she swayed on her feet. She was all off kilter. She told herself it was the new shoes—spiked heels higher than anything she ever wore. But she somehow doubted it.

They left the restaurant shortly after eight. It was still light out, but the daytime heat had relented somewhat. Wyatt took her arm, as they walked across a broken piece of sidewalk, and didn't release it.

"Well, well, slipping out of town for a clandestine dinner date? You two are good at that, aren't you?"

Nicole froze as she was about to step into the truck. Wyatt stood next to her, holding the door open. Standing behind them was his cousin Brady, accompanied by a tall, slim redhead who looked bored and annoyed at Brady's departure from her side.

"Wyatt told me just the other day that the two of you were pros at hiding what was really going on between you. Gee, Nicole, I gave up on you too soon, I hear."

Nicole gasped at the sly innuendo in his voice, and she glanced toward Wyatt. His brow pulled down in an angry frown and his body coiled and tensed beneath the jacket of his suit.

"Ignore him," she advised, purposely trying to sound amused as Brady hung on her every word. "We're past the need to hide what’s going on because of how poor spoiled Brady might react."

She saw out of the corner of her eye that her jab struck home. The other man's jaw tightened and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Judging by the stiffness in his jaw, Wyatt noticed, too. Nicole feared she'd made things worse, and she put a gentle hand on his forearm. The last thing she wanted was for this night to end in a fistfight between the angry cousins. Catching his eye, she silently urged Wyatt to just let it go. Finally, she saw his face soften into a crooked grin that said he was up to something. His wink confirmed it.

"How’s it going, Brady," Wyatt said as he turned to face the other man with a challenging smile. In a voice smoother than silk he asked, "Are you going to introduce us to your lovely friend?"

Nicole watched a silent struggle begin between Wyatt and his blond-haired cousin. She didn't understand it at first. A red flush began at the collar of Brady's shirt and rose up through his cheeks, and the other man moved closer to his date and placed a territorial arm across her shoulders.

That didn't even make Wyatt pause. "We haven't had the pleasure. I'm Wyatt Clayton, Brady's cousin."

“I’m Brandi,” the woman said, her voice breathy and girlish. “Like the drink, but with an ‘I’.”

Nicole continued observing, feeling a tightness in the pit of her stomach as Wyatt offered Brady’s date a devastating smile. The redhead reacted the same way all women did when assaulted by Wyatt Clayton's charm. Her generous chest rose and fell as she took deeper breaths, and she stared at Wyatt with definite interest.

It was only when she felt Wyatt squeeze her hand reassuringly that Nicole recognized what he was up to. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her own grin.

"I didn't realize Brady had any family members in the area," the other woman stammered.

"Oh, yes, we're quite close. Brady lives in the ranch-house with me. I'm surprised he hasn't invited you out yet."

Nicole nearly winced as his hand squeezed hers even tighter. Wyatt was playing his part well. Too well. She hated to think how she'd feel if she didn't know for sure that he was turning on the charm in order to punish Brady, not to seduce the redhead.

The redhead, of course, didn't notice. She was good and hooked. As Nicole had realized years and years before, Brady's sulky, boyish good looks were absolutely no match for the devastation of his hot-and-sexy cousin.

"We were just leaving," Brady insisted and Nicole heard the querulous note in his voice. "Brandi, let's go."

The woman seemed reluctant, and Brady absolutely tugged her to get her away. He shot Wyatt a glare of pure malevolence and Wyatt laughed out loud as the two walked down the street. When they were gone, he turned and smiled down at Nicole.

"Brady and Brandi. How adorable."

Nicole chuckled. "You are very bad."

"You used to love that about me." His voice was still smooth and silky, but she didn't see the playfulness in his green eyes. He just stared intently at her, as if his joking comment was more serious than he'd wanted it to sound.

"I was a kid," she finally replied. "I used to envy your ability to laugh at yourself, to rise to any challenge, to charm your way out of any mess. Your freedom."

"And?" he said with a laugh.

"All right, all right, your badness," she conceded. "But only because I knew that wasn't the real you. Just as that wasn't the real you with Candy just then."

"Brandi. Like the drink, but with an 'I'."

"Whatever," Nicole said as she rolled her eyes. "The point is, this charm of yours, you wear it like a cloak, like something you can put on and take off when it suits you. It's your armor. But you really don't need it, Wyatt. Even without it, you are a pleasure to be around."

"Careful, Nick. You'll swell my head," he said softly.

Wyatt inched closer and Nicole didn't even try to back away. She'd been wanting him to kiss her since she'd walked down the stairs into his seductive trap when the evening began.

And then he was.

His lips were soft and cajoling on hers. He nibbled, tasted, and she shivered. When he gently swept his tongue into her mouth, she moaned with pleasure and hungrily tasted him back. Wanting him even closer, she leaned into him, sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck. He reacted instantly, moving his hands down her midriff to her hips and pulling her body tightly against his.

Yells and catcalls intruded as a car full of teenagers sped by. Nicole realized they were standing right on a public street, necking like a couple of kids and she instantly pulled her lips from his and took a step back. The heel of one shoe slipped down off the curb. Wyatt grabbed her upper arms to keep her from falling off back against the truck.

"Weak in the knees, hmm?" he asked softly.

Nicole glanced around, trying to regain control of her emotions as she bit her lip in embarrassment. There were several restaurants nearby, with tables full of diners, and she imagined they'd put on quite a show for every one of them.

"That might not have been such a great idea."

"The hell it wasn't!" Wyatt retorted. "I've wanted to do that for hours."

Lifting a shaky hand to her face, Nicole swept her fingers into the curls at her temple and patted them back into place. Her fingers encountered moisture on her brow. She wasn't surprised to find she'd broken into a sweat. Wyatt just made her downright hot.

She struggled to put some distance between them, at least emotionally, if not physically. Thinking about all the people who might be watching, she finally managed to slow her pulse rate and put on a serene expression. Finally, she felt confident enough to look up at him.

He wore his desire for her on his face. His eyes roamed over her like they were hands, touching every part of her, silently letting her know where he would pause and where he would speed up. His lips were parted and his breath came across them quickly. Nicole's heart started thudding in her chest all over again.

"Stop," she whispered.

"Stop what? Stop wanting you?"

She couldn't respond. He stepped closer, crowding her, until a piece of paper wouldn't have been able to fit between them, but Nicole couldn’t find the strength of will to back away.

"You want me to stop remembering what it was like with us? Impossible. I've tried. But some things are too good to ever really forget. Like the softness of your skin and the way you taste. The way your hair slides through my fingers and the way you hiss when I lick that soft skin behind your knee."

Nicole wobbled again. He steadied her, sliding his hand down to cup her hip with casual intimacy. Another car drove by, honking its horn, and he smiled down at her tenderly.

"But I guess we're not exactly in a good spot for such reminiscing, hmm? Come on, Cinderella. Let's go to the ball."

Nicole couldn't even remember what they talked about on the ride back to Windover. Nothing earth-shattering, certainly. Somehow she managed to respond to Wyatt's light-hearted comments about the climate, and the ranch, and hid the fact that her whole body quivered in memory of his words.

Darkness fell as they drove, and the interior of the truck was illuminated only by the lights of the dashboard. Suddenly Nicole felt Wyatt reach toward her lap to take her fingers in his. He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a fleeting kiss on it, then gently lay her hand back down, all in utter silence. She wondered if she'd imagined it.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"For bringing up the past. I wasn't playing fair."

"I wasn't aware we were playing anything," she said.

"Sweetheart, we've been playing games with one another since the night you came back to town."

Nicole turned in her seat and tucked one leg beneath the other. She studied the fine sculpted lines of Wyatt's face, shadowed by the dim light in the truck, and wondered at his suddenly serious mood. "And would you prefer something else?"