Dear Diary (14 page)

Goaded by some inner demon, Rory asked, “Did you love her?”

“Oh, Rory,” he groaned. “I don’t know. Love… God…”

“I thought that’s why people got married.”

“More bullshit. Marriage and love are two separate issues.”

Rory didn’t know how to respond to that. A part of her kind of thought he was right, but another part wanted him to deny with every breath of his being. “Are you saying you never loved Jenny?”

“At twenty-two, I didn’t know anything about anything. Maybe I thought I loved her. I probably did. I don’t remember.”

“Oh, Nick.”

“Well, I don’t see you falling in love all over the place,” he defended himself. “You’ve never even been married once, so how would you know?” He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, regarding her with calm superiority. “You’re not even dating now, are you?”

“I date. Sometimes.”

“No heart palpitations? No sweating palms? No pulse in your head?”

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I’ve had my moments.” Rory tossed back a gulp of iced-tea. One moment. With Ryan. Hardly a mad passionate love affair but, yes, she’d thought she loved him.

“Oh, you have.”

“Yep. Not as many as you’ve had, of course.”

“I find it very hard to picture you with another man,” Nick admitted somewhat seriously.

“
Another
man?”

“Any man, then.”

“Thanks so much. And for your information, I find it very hard to picture you with only one woman.”

Nick shrugged. “I’ve dated. I’m not going to make excuses for it, but I’m hardly Don Juan. I can’t see more than one woman at a time. I’ve tried it. I’m not good at it,” he admitted. “But I don’t feel like settling down with just one, either.” He glanced past her toward where the sun was sinking behind the jagged skyline of buildings. “I think that moment passed me by.”

Rory heard unexpected poignancy in his words. “Maybe you and Jenny just weren’t right for each other.”

“We weren’t right for each other,” he agreed emphatically, then asked, “Is there one perfect person?”

“Maybe not,” Rory said, feeling a little depressed by the idea.

“I haven’t seen Jenny since the divorce,” he admitted.

“Do you want to?”

“No. Never. There’s no reason.”

It wasn’t meant to be a damning statement on his character; Nick was just being honest. But Rory thought how indicative his comment was of how he truly felt about women in general. They were fine. They were great. But they weren’t all that important in life. At least not one single woman was. Maybe as a general sex they were important, but for Nick, the individual didn’t count. She almost understood… almost…

“What’s that frown mean?” he asked.

“I was just wondering how you and I have stayed friends. We’re not alike at all.”

“Aren’t we?”

He wasn’t completely wrong, but she didn’t want to go there. She pointed a finger at him. “There’s a little part of you that’s too much like Don Tisdale.”

“There
are
some parts that are the same,” he conceded blandly.

“Like sexual innuendo,” she said forcefully.

He grinned. “And a little bit more.”

“You even commented about my cooking the way he did,” Rory said. “I’ll have you know, I’m not half bad.”

“Did Tisdale sample your cooking?” Nick asked.

“He did not. I’m making dinner for some unknown lucky auction bidder.” Nick stared at her in total lack of comprehension. “The fundraiser? For Puget Sound Children’s Hospital?”

“That’s what the Chinese food was all about?” he asked. Laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “You’re kidding. Say you’re kidding.”

“I’m not kidding,” she said. It wasn’t
that
funny.

“You’re actually doing all the cooking yourself? And cleaning up afterward?”

Rory narrowed her lashes warningly. “I’m perfectly capable in the kitchen.”

Nick hooted with laughter. “But to make a gourmet meal for two? This I’ve got to see!”

“Well, the only way you’re going to see it is if you buy me for a night because I’ll be damned if I ever offer to cook you a meal after the way you’ve maligned my culinary skills.”

To Rory’s intense surprise, Nick leaned across the table, tilted up her chin and kissed her lightly on the lips. “You’re on,” he said, amusement threading his voice. “I am going to buy Rory-for-a-Night and make you prove yourself. You’re going to have to whip up the most exotic meal in town!”

The conference room at the Four Seasons Hotel was filled with chairs. On a little dais at the front of the room was a table covered with scrolls of paper on which were written the donations. But there was also a baseball signed by all the Mariners. And someone had actually given a champion blue-point female Himalayan cat who was yelling piteously in a cage. The cat had already been sold to a little old lady with matching blue hair, and Rory wished someone would remove the poor thing from the room.

Rory sat at the end of one aisle, three rows back. She hadn’t saved a place for Nick because he’d shown up late, but he’d found a seat on the opposite end of her row. As the auction progressed, he kept leaning forward to catch her eye. He was waiting to bid on her entry.

Rory had to resist reverting to junior high tactics such as making a face at him. By now everyone at Jacobson & Kern‌—‌she kept forgetting;
Shard Ltd.,
if you please‌—‌knew she and Nick were longtime friends, but Rory didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression. She was quite aware of several people, including Pamela, who thought that there was something more afoot between them.

Hah. As if Nick would ever seriously look at her, and she was not going to be just another dalliance. Oh, sure. She could have a weak moment. She’d
had
a weak a moment. But then the raft of female calls flooding in from San Francisco had deluged their offices ever since Nick had moved to Seattle, and that had pretty well cured Rory. Apparently he’d left a lot of broken hearts in San Francisco… which was kind of how the song went, right? Hearts left behind, broken, or otherwise.

She sure as hell didn’t want that to happen to her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him lean forward again, grinning like a devil. He really thought he’d gotten her this time. Pamela, seated four chairs down from Rory, glanced with avid curiosity from Nick to Rory to Nick again. Rory focused her eyes straight ahead.

If Nick had been thinking he could ease into his role as a boss without making waves, he could think again. He was the hottest topic around the office these days. It fried Rory that her name should be linked with his romantically. She was
not
like those San Francisco women, and she
never would be.

Now he was waggling his eyebrows at her, motioning to his watch. Soon Rory-for-a-Night‌—‌good Lord, even she was calling it that now‌—‌would be on the auction block. Secretly she hoped he did buy it. Then she could burn the damn meal and smirk about it, too.

“Next up, dinner for two, cooked and prepared in your own home, by one of Shard Limited’s most celebrated gourmet cooks, Ms. Rory Camden.”

Most celebrated gourmet cooks?
Rory about fell over. She hadn’t written that. Narrowing her eyes to slits, she glared down the row at Nick.

“You’re gonna pay for this, Shard,” she muttered under her breath.

“What?” Pamela asked, all ears. The people seated in between them looked interested.

“Nothing,” Rory muttered tersely. Woe to Nick Shard. If he bought her, he was going to find out he’d gotten more than his money’s worth.

“The bidding starts at one hundred dollars, and may I remind you again,” the auctioneer added, sounding slightly self-conscious to be uttering the same phrase over and over again, “this is for a good cause.”

“A hundred,” Nick called out.

“A hundred and twenty,” another voice responded.

Rory suddenly grew cold inside. If Nick didn’t buy her dinner for two, someone else would. Then she would have to live up to her press.

“Two hundred,” Nick said, unperturbed.

Rory relaxed a little. There was a buzz of excited conversation. Grist for the mill, Rory realized, but she damn well needed him to buy her meal. Her relationship with Nick was bound to be next week’s office headline, but she could weather it.

There was no return bid. Rory was staring straight ahead, thinking rapidly. She hadn’t purchased anything tonight. There wasn’t anything she’d actually desired. But, as the auctioneer had said, it
was
for a worthy cause.

“Three hundred,” she said smoothly, calculating how much money she could actually afford to donate. She did have some extra cash saved for something special. She would buy herself back.

A roar of excitement rose like a wave. Rory slid Nick a sideways look, her lips twitching. His own eyes were lazy and amused.

“Better make it five hundred,” he answered in a bored tone.

The resulting noise nearly deafened Rory. Were those her coworkers cheering? Their feet were pounding the floor. Pamela leapt from her chair, reached over and clapped Rory on the shoulder, laughing like a banshee.

Slowly the room quieted. Pamela sat back down. The auctioneer gazed straight at Rory. “Any other bids?” he asked hopefully.

Five hundred dollars. Was paying it worth the price of a joke? She could bid him up by as little as a dollar, but he would certainly top her bid. Feeling all eyes on her, her hands began to sweat.
How stupid!
she berated herself. She’d actually gone out of her way to draw attention to her relationship with Nick. The last thing she wanted.

But on the other hand, the damage was already done and Nick had had it his way far too long. “Six hundred,” she said coolly, closing her ears to her own folly.

But this time there was no noise. The room was breathlessly silent. The bidding had taken on a new dimension. Tense moments passed. Moments when Rory could hear her heart pound in her ears. What the hell was she doing?

“A thousand dollars,” Nick drawled. “And that had better be more than you’re willing to pay, Rory.”

“It is,” she declared in disgust, and the assemblage broke into whoops of laughter.

Life, Rory decided the following Monday as she made her way to Nick’s office, was never going to be the same. The office was a bubbling cauldron of speculation. She couldn’t walk down the hall without feeling someone’s eyes following her. Okay. She’d been stupid, she knew it. But at least the fundraiser was a success. And Nick, for his flamboyance, had won himself a place in the hearts of his employees. Most of the women, half in love with him already, were practically ready to sacrifice themselves at his feet. The men thought he had style and panache.

None of them could figure where Rory fit in. Even when she explained how they’d known each other since the third grade, no one seemed to believe she and Nick could be just friends. He was just too damned good-looking, Rory finally decided as she walked briskly down the hall the last few feet to his office. The women in the office couldn’t understand why she hadn’t fallen under his spell.

“Door’s open,” Nick called when she rapped loudly on the panels. Before she could enter, however, Don Tisdale blocked her way, coming out.

“So what are you planning to prepare for a thousand dollars?” he smirked.

“Cheese quesadillas,” Rory responded.

The smirk fell from his face but then he spoiled Rory’s victory by coughing as if he were about to hack up a lung until Rory wondered if she should clap him on the back. “Damn cold,” he muttered, clearing his throat.

She noticed how shadowed and sunken his eyes were. “You look terrible, Don. Are you okay?”

“Hell, no. I feel rotten.”

“You sure it’s just a cold?”

“Maybe the flu.” He shrugged. “Adriana was out last week with it. Better look out or you’ll be next.”

“Why don’t you just go home?”

“Can’t. I’ve got too much to do. I’ll crash later.” He headed past her toward his own office.

Rory forgot him almost instantly. She had other things to take care of. Sticking her head around Nick’s door, she surveyed his lair. He was seated at his desk, frowning over a stack of papers. He’d tossed off his coat, and his tie was askew, which made him look more approachable. As approachable as a Bengal tiger, Rory amended at the same moment he glanced up to see her.