Front Page Affair (9 page)

S
ATURDAY
morning Payton emerged from Nate's bedroom bleary-eyed and desperate for caffeine. Waking alone, she'd managed to locate her panties and Nate's discarded tee shirt from the night before, but after minutes of fruitless searching for her jeans she abandoned the quest. Bare-legged, she padded down the hall following the fresh-brewed scent of dark roast coffee.

They'd been to a wine bar for dinner the night before and, though delicious, that third glass was wreaking havoc on her head this morning. Halfway through their first small plate of chorizo-stuffed dates, a couple of Nate's friends had turned up and joined them bar-side. Not the society crowd Payton was so keen to get away from, just a wonderfully funny and intelligent couple Nate had known for years.

The tone of the evening had been set when Nate introduced her as his girlfriend and she'd choked on her drink and then flushed so red that no one could ignore it. Soon they'd all found themselves laughing about the label, swapping stories about Nate at various ages and overall having such a great time her shaky tolerance was the last thing on her mind.

After, Nate had brought her back to his apartment and proceeded to make love to her until the wee hours of the morning—which invariably had as much to do with the drag in her step as that last glass.

She turned into the kitchen, rubbed a lazy hand at her eye hoping Nate still found ‘puffy' cute, and poured some coffee.

Nate's voice sounded from the front room in a low rumble. Probably taking care of some business while she'd been dead to the world in his bed. But noting more rasp than usual, she wondered if perhaps he'd had a glass too many as well. Not likely. Nate didn't get caught up in excess.

She took a steaming swallow, then cradled the mug at her chest to absorb the warmth both inside and out.

“So it's true?” The demand filtered down the hall, sounding almost accusatory, and she considered returning to the bedroom. Maybe taking a shower while he wrapped things up.

Then… “Look, it just sort of happened. We haven't talked since high school, but once we started…you remember what a cool girl she was. Fun, you know?”

She set the mug down on the counter harder than she'd intended, tried to steady it with clumsy hands. This conversation was about
her.
She stepped back to the hall. She definitely shouldn't be listening in.

“Is it serious?” Her brow puckered at the croaked question and she slowed her steps. Visualizing Nate's considering expression. What could he say? It had only been a week since their first night together. And yet they knew each other.

Nate's exasperated sigh propelled her forward. Toward the conversation rather than away from it. She was in the apartment and he was talking about her. Better to let him know she was awake, before this became something uncomfortable between them. Only it wasn't until she turned into the front room and encountered Nate's clear blue eyes—on a face twenty-five years older than the one she went to bed with—that understanding came. Nate's father.
Mr. Evans
, seemingly paralyzed as he gaped
with what she could only describe as open-mouthed appreciation at the region where her tee shirt ended and bare legs began.

Nate muttered a particularly colorful obscenity, stepping from behind his dad. “Morning, Payton.”

Before she could reply, the Evans elder regained use of his faculties, brows slamming down in an all too familiar scowl. He crossed his arms, turning to the younger version of himself, a man who left tycoons cowering, and demanded, “You couldn't tell me she was
here
?” Nate shrugged—
shrugged!
—and covered his stubbled jaw with one wide hand in a blatant effort to hide his growing smile. “I thought I could get you out before you caught us.”

“Uh-uh-umm-I—” She broke off, shaking her head, at a total loss for words as she stumbled back a few steps. Now she understood the dialog she'd overheard, and it was definitely a conversation she didn't want to be a part of.

“Relax, Payton. He's not going to call your mother.”

Thanks for that, Nate.

“Why don't you get showered? Dad and I are going to run out and pick up a little breakfast. Wishbone sound good, Dad?”

The older man grunted. “That'll do.”

Not for her it wouldn't. “Uh, Nate, I actually need to…” She waved a hand around, casting about for a good excuse to get the heck out of there. Sitting around with Nate's friends was one thing, but Mr. Evans? After he'd given her a B- in World Economics and busted her shacked up with his son? No, thank you. “I need to take care of
that thing
I told you I had to do today.”

Mr. Evans wasn't impressed. And Nate simply shook his head with an expression that said, “Fat chance.”

“Give me a second with my dad here and I'll be right back.”

“Sure,” she managed, still on the brink of hyperventilating.

Time to flee. Be gone. Vamoose!

She'd finally tasted the mortification of being caught in a compromising position—something most people probably experienced back in high school—and she had no idea how she would survive it.

Nothing could be worse.

Desperate to make her exit, she hastily spun away—square into the jutting leg of the sideboard. Pain shot through her foot as she tripped forward with a sharp cry.

Sadly, not enough pain to block the two voices following in quick report.

“Oh, God in heaven.”

“Dad, turn around!” Nate begged, laughter lacing his plea.

Her eyes bugged and then pinched shut as her crouched position and the cool breeze across her backside registered. She grabbed for the hem of the tee shirt, tugging it down to cover the bit of hot pink lace she'd picked up to entertain Nate.

A peek out of one squinched eye at both Evans men doubled over ensured they were highly entertained. “This is not funny!”

At least his father had the good grace to look away, but Nate simply straightened, hands on his hips, his gaze fixed on her butt. “Oh, Payton. I'm sorry, honey, but yes it is.” Then ducking low, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her up and against him. “Is your foot okay?” he asked, one palm warming her hip.

She looked at her second and third toes, both red and throbbing angrily, and sighed. “Just stubbed. I'm fine.” Really it was her pride suffering more than anything else right then.

Nate glanced back over his shoulder. “Close your eyes, old
man, or I'm putting you in a home. You've had enough cheap thrills for one morning.”

A dismissive, “Yeah, yeah,” came from behind them, and with that she was swept up into the cradle of Nate's arms for the princess-style escort back to his room. Too bad her scantily clad bum was hanging out, ruining the effect.

When Nate deposited her at the door to the master bath, she touched his arm and looked up at him imploringly. “Uh, Nate, how about I let you catch up with your dad? I'll see you—”

His hand closed over hers with a telling squeeze. “No. I'm giving you thirty minutes and then you'll sit there with us enjoying breakfast and making small talk. That's what good
girlfriends
do.”

“Are you afraid of your dad?” She raised a mocking brow and met one in return.

“Aren't you?”

“Well, yes.” Everyone had been. He'd been the toughest teacher at school. “But he's
your
dad.”

“Yeah, who drove all the way into the city to slap a paper with our picture in it against the side of my head.”

The image that conjured had her near giggles, only what was behind it wasn't very funny. “He seems upset.”

Acknowledging with the barest nod, Nate extracted the weapon in question from where he'd tucked it under his arm and flipped through until he found their page. “Here we go.”

Setting it on the granite countertop, he leaned close so the heat of his chest warmed her back as they read. Payton's brows drew down as she scanned the column. There was more information than she would have expected them to find. Particularly since she'd been ignoring the reporters' calls herself.

“Did you do this?” she asked.

“Some.” He pointed to the line about being seen around town since the relationship had been publicly outed earlier
that week. “I had my assistant Deborah drop the hint that we'd been keeping it under wraps. Hey, they hit the school where you work, too.”

An involuntary groan slipped out and Nate chuckled above her. “What, it can't be the first time the press showed up there.”

“No. Not the first time.” There'd been a few months following her father's death where the interest in her had peaked and reporters seemed to lurk around every corner, waiting for the opportunity to pump her fellow teachers for information.

How was she holding up? Was a wedding in the works? Could the romance sustain through the tragedy? Would she be leaving the school to take a seat at Liss Industries?

It hadn't won her any friends at the new school back then, but over the past year the alienation she'd experienced had died down along with the press's interest. Still, every time she'd found herself pictured in the paper she'd sensed a subtle backlash. She wasn't looking forward to the reaction come Monday.

“It's pretty much what I'd expected.” Nate knocked the paper aside with a knuckled fist and stepped back. “Deborah's got a few more nuggets to dole out over the next weeks, so I'd say we're in good shape.”

“Mission accomplished.”

Rubbing a wide palm over the scrub of his jaw, he nodded. “As for my dad—I don't really talk to him about the women I'm dating, but I should have told him about us. Things are different with you.”

“Different?” Hope lit through her veins, pushing into her heart with welcoming ease.

“Yeah.” He met her with a blind stare. “He knows you. Probably feels as protective of you from those high-school days as I do.”

Nate shook his head, thankfully too wrapped up in the
situation with his father to notice the falter of her smile as her most vital organ hollowed out. It was stupid. She knew what she'd signed on for and the surest way to ruin it or any chance of maintaining a friendship after would be to spend every minute they were together imagining more meaning into Nate's words than they deserved.

“I'm a big girl,” she said, as much a reminder to herself as to him. “He doesn't need to worry about me.”

This brought a low chuckle as his gaze raked down the length of her. “Okay,
big girl
. You were all over this whole girlfriend business last night. Rolling around in the title like you owned it. Time to start paying those dues.”

She let out a cough. “Dues? Come on—”

“Payton, I'm not asking you to see him through his retirement years.” He raked a hand through the thick mess of sandy blond spikes. “Just to hang out for an hour or two and show my dad I'm not treating you like some floozy or pulling the wool over your poor innocent eyes.”

And suddenly she realized he was serious. “You're worried about what he thinks.”

“That surprises you?”

It shouldn't have. But after having spent a lifetime worrying—obsessing—about how her every action would be interpreted by her own father, she'd never really thought of Nate, who always came across so fun and carefree, as having the same issues. “I guess you never seemed…concerned.”

“Yeah, well, my mom took off when I was young, so it was just my dad and me. And, you know him, he's not a halfway kind of guy. Since raising me fell wholly on his shoulders, he took the job seriously. Made a lot of sacrifices and spent a lot of years making sure I knew right from wrong, worked hard and did the right thing. Honestly, he couldn't care less about the financial kudos or bank account I've built. He measures
my success—and his—by the kind of man I've made. So, yes. It matters to me that he knows he did a good job.”

Her heart rolled over with a little sigh for this man who loved his father and had his priorities so well aligned. If only there were room in his heart for more. “He did a very good job. Go get me some grub while I get dressed and I'll tell him so.”

 

It was early afternoon by the time they'd said their goodbyes and the elevator doors slid shut with a quiet whoosh. Nate leaned a shoulder against the brushed-steel interior and watched his father. Waiting.

Payton had recovered from her initial embarrassment by the time they'd returned with breakfast. He'd expected the quiet poise and well-mannered reserve she was known for, but she'd been relaxed and comfortable, charming his old man with her bright smile and fresh take on the adventures of academia.

She'd been perfect. Too perfect. Too comfortable. Too right a fit between what had always been just the two of them. God only knew what his dad was thinking now—but he didn't have long to wait to find out.

Solemn eyes that had been shining with merriment half an hour before turned on him. “What are you doing with her?”

Or, more to the point, what was a nice girl like Payton Liss doing with a guy like him? “We're just having some fun, Dad. It's not serious so don't start knitting any booties.”

A beat of silence and then, “Does she know that?”

Staring at the numbers as each floor illuminated and went dark, he offered a single nod. “Give me some credit. We wouldn't have gotten anywhere near a bed if she didn't.”

“She's not like the others.”

Nate fought back a grin. His father hadn't had a say in his sex life since he'd slapped a box of condoms in his hand in
high school and sat him down for a man-to-man. “What do you know about the others?”

“I know you haven't introduced me to a date since you were seventeen.”

“You already knew Payton. And it wasn't like I brought her home for dinner. She walked in before I could get rid of you.”