Home to Eden (22 page)

"I figured you'd want to put the place on the market as soon as possible so you could get into that new condo and start playing golf,'' Nick said with bland sarcasm.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his white brows coming together over his nose. "I'm in no hurry."

"Why am I not surprised to hear that?" Nick murmured.

Harry glared at him. "Whether I sell or not, there's no reason for you to work yourself to death to put the place in shape. It's been falling apart for years. A few weeks here or there aren't going to make any difference."

"There's no reason to drag the job out."

Harry was silent a moment. "You're leaving when it's done, aren't you?"

"This will always be home, but I don't think it's my home anymore," Nick said, answering the question obliquely.

"Will you go back to New York?"

"I haven't decided anything yet." Even as he said it, Nick knew it wasn't entirely true. He'd decided to leave Eden. He just didn't know exactly when or exactly where he'd be going.

"Does this have anything to do with Kate Moran?" Harry asked shrewdly.

The question caught him off guard and Nick's fingers clenched over the keys he held. But his voice was easy when he answered.

"The memoirs must be pretty dull going if you've got time to let your imagination run wild like that, Harry."

"That's no answer." The old man had spent too much time in court to be easily diverted. "You can tell me to mind my own damned business—"

"Mind your own damned business," Nick said pleasantly.

"—but I've noticed she hasn't been around as much lately," Harry continued, ignoring the interruption. "She's doing the job I hired her to do but she skulks around the shrubbery, darting in and out as if there's goblins lurking in the underbrush."

''Considering the underbrush around that place, maybe she's got good reason to be nervous."

"And that's no answer, either," Harry snapped. "If something's happened between the two of you—" He caught the sharp look of warning in Nick's eyes and threw up one hand in quick defense. "Fine. It's none of my business."

"You're slow but you do get there."

"I just don't want to see either of you get hurt," Harry muttered, unable to let the subject drop.

"I think you said that once before." Not that the warning had done much good.

"Was I wrong to drag you back here?" Harry asked, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain. "Are you sorry you came back?"

"No." Nick was surprised to realize that he meant it. He'd needed to come home before he could let go of the past It was just a pity he couldn't have managed to do that without screwing up the present so thoroughly, but that was another problem. "No, I'm not sorry."

Harry looked relieved. He cleared his throat as if to speak, but Nick didn't want to talk anymore. He tossed his keys in the air and caught them as they fell. "I'm heading back."

He barely waited for Harry's nod before walking away. He pulled on his helmet as he settled onto the Harley's wide seat Make that the second to last thing he wanted to do, he amended as he slid the key into the ignition and gave it a viciously hard twist The last thing he wanted to do was spend the afternoon watching Gareth and Kate together.

He'd barely set eyes on her in the past few weeks. Harry's description of her visits to Spider's Walk had been pretty accurate. When she'd first taken on the task of restoring the grounds, she'd lingered over every small task, savoring her time there. Now, she spent as little time as possible there. Most of the work was being done by a couple of young men who apparently worked for the nursery part-time. Kate's role was largely supervisory.

Not that it was any business of his what she did, he reminded himself. She'd made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. All he wanted was to finish the job at Spider's Walk and leave town the same way he'd come—alone.

"It looks like Nick is already here," Gareth said as he pulled up in front of his parents' house.

Kate felt her stomach roll when she looked at the big bike. It was ridiculous to feel such a sense of shock. The family was gathering to celebrate Gareth's birthday, and she would have expected Nick to be here.

"I can't believe he bought another motorcycle after what happened with the last one," Brenda said from the backseat. "I would have expected him to get something a little more substantial."

"Trust Nick to do exactly the opposite of what you expect." Gareth's exasperation was mixed with a tinge of admiration. He parked behind the bike and shut the engine off.

"Well, I think he's crazy and I'm going to tell him as much," Brenda said as she pushed open her door and got out.

"Not that it will do any good," Gareth murmured to Kate. He looked at her and let his hand drop away from the door handle, his smile fading. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine." She gave him a quick smile and then looked down, as if unlatching her seat belt took concentration.

"You sure? You've been pretty quiet and you look a little pale."

"Just what every woman wants to hear—that she looks like hell," she said lightly. The seat belt came loose with a quiet snick and she reached for the door handle, anxious to put some distance between her guilty conscience and the concern in Gareth's eyes.

"I didn't say you looked like hell." He reached out to touch her cheek with gentle fingers. "I said you were pale."

"There's a difference?" she asked, arching her brows. Why did he have to be so damned nice? It made everything so much worse. She forced a smile. "I'm fine. Really." He didn't look convinced, and she reached for the easiest excuse. "If I'm pale, it's probably just the lingering effects of the flu."

It wasn't the first time she'd used that particular excuse lately, but this time it had the opposite effect of what she'd intended. Rather than looking reassured, his frown deepened. "This has been hanging around for weeks now. You really should see a doctor."

"I don't need a doctor," she said too quickly, panic catching at her throat. Seeing his startled look, she grabbed for her thinning self-control. God knew, none of this was his fault. She caught his hand in hers and gave it an apologetic squeeze. "I'm fine. Really. Now, stop worrying about me."

She turned and pushed open her door without giving him a chance to say anything else. One more concerned word and she was going to burst into tears and sob out all her worries on his chest—not exactly the best place to go for sympathy with her particular problem.

"I can smell the barbecue from here." Brenda said as Kate got out of the car. She drew a deep breath and released it on a sigh of pleasure. "Mrs. Pickle is the best cook in town—maybe even the best cook on the planet. When I was a kid, I used to follow Brian and Nick home like a lost puppy just so I could get my hands on some of Mrs. Pickle's cookies. Too bad they went straight from hand to thigh," she added ruefully, smoothing one hand over her full hip. "It's a crime that everything that tastes good is bad for the figure."

"There's not a thing wrong with your figure," Gareth said as he joined them. He slid his arm around Brenda's waist and waggled his eyebrows in a dreadful imitation of a pirate's leer. "A tidy armful of femininity."

Brenda laughed, her cheeks warming as she slipped away from Gareth's hold. "Careful. Flattery like that might turn a girl's head."

"And such a pretty head it is, too," he said, grinning at her. For a moment, there was something almost wistful in Brenda's eyes, but it was gone so quickly that Kate thought she'd imagined it.

"Having a birthday seems to have put you in a good mood," Brenda said as the three of them stepped onto the wide front porch. "I thought, after thirty, they were supposed to depress you."

"Not when you've got life going just the way you want it," he said, glancing at Kate. As she returned his smile, she sent up a fervent wish that the ground would simply open up and swallow her whole.

But that mercy was denied her, and she followed Brenda into the cool dimness of the big house. Finding the rest of the family was simply a matter of following the smells through the house and onto the shady patio that extended from the back of the house. Though summer had definitely arrived and the temperature was hovering around ninety, the backyard was shady and cool. A waterfall splashed over lava rock in one comer of the patio, the gentle murmur of the water providing a soothing backdrop.

"We were starting to think we were going to have to eat without you," Philip said, coming forward to greet them.

"You mean you were hoping," Gareth said, returning his father's hug. ''More of Dilly's potato salad for you, right?"

"The thought never crossed my mind," Philip protested, his dark eyes twinkling with laughter.

''Don't you believe him," Sara said. "She already had to chase him out of the kitchen twice to keep him from eating everything in sight."

"I simply offered my services as a taster," Philip said with injured dignity.

"With you as a taster, we'd all end up eating at Jack-in-the-Box," Gareth said. He smile widened as he glanced past his father and saw Nick tending the brick barbecue. "Put you to work, did they?"

"It was self-defense," Nick said. "I remember Dad's barbecue skills and I wasn't in the mood for charred ribs."

"Whatever happened to parental respect?" Philip asked plaintively.

"It takes a backseat to Dilly's ribs," Nick said as he brushed barbecue sauce on a rack of sizzling meat. He glanced up to smile at Brenda. "Followed Gareth home this time, did you?"

"I was invited," she informed him with careful dignity. Then she grinned. "But if I hadn't been, I would have hidden in the trunk for a chance at those ribs. I was just telling Kate that Mrs. Pickle is one of the great heroines of my childhood."

Nick looked at Kate and the smile faded from his eyes, though not from his mouth. "Kate."

"Nick." She nodded and aimed a vague smile in his direction, then turned casually away. Just a few hours, she told herself. She only had to hold it together for a few hours. And then she could lock herself in her apartment and collapse into screaming hysterics.

"I didn't think it was possible, but these ribs taste as good as they smell,'' Brenda said, closing her eyes in ecstasy as she chewed and swallowed. "Do you think I could talk Mrs. Pickle into giving me the recipe?"

"I imagine so," Sara said. She spooned some potato salad onto her plate before handing the bowl to Kate. "Annie's usually pretty generous with her recipes."

Kate tried not to inhale as she passed the potato salad on to Gareth. The rich scents of barbecue sauce and grilled vegetables already had her stomach sending up warning signals. She swallowed hard and reached for her glass. A few sips of sweet-tart 7-Up eased her discomfort enough that she risked taking a roll when the basket was passed to her.

She listened with half an ear to the comments on the food, the weather and the progress being made on the women's shelter that was Sara's pet project. It was exactly the way she'd always imagined a family get-together—the warmth and affection flowed as easily as the conversation. She'd dreamed of being a part of a family like this, and for a little while, she had been. It was ironic that, by her own actions, she'd put herself outside the circle she'd so desperately wanted to join.

She stole a glance at Nick, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table and down from her. He'd apparently finished eating because his plate was pushed a little back from the edge of the table. He had a half-empty bottle of beer in front of him and was turning it between his fingers, his attention apparently focused on the idle motion. He'd contributed little to the conversation, letting it ebb and flow around him for the most part. It occurred to her that he looked as much apart from the gathering as she felt.

As if sensing her gaze, he looked up suddenly, his eyes locking on hers. His expression was closed, unreadable. Kate thought suddenly of the way his eyes so often smiled even before his mouth moved. The memory of it made her feel very alone, and she looked away. She crumbled a piece of roll between her fingers and wondered what he might have read in her expression.

"You're not eating anything." Gareth's low comment dragged Kate's thoughts from Nick. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just not very hungry." He looked doubtful.

"My stomach's a little upset," she admitted reluctantly.

"This flu has been hanging around too long." He frowned, his eyes worried. "You really need to see a doctor."

"Did I hear someone take the name of my profession in vain?" Sara asked from across the table.

"No."

"Yes." Kate's denial was drowned out by Gareth's response, and Sara's brows went up.

"I'm fine," Kate said firmly. She gave him a warning glance, which he ignored.

"You're not fine." Exasperated, Gareth looked at his mother. "She's been battling some kind of flu bug for weeks now."

"It hasn't been that long." Kate set the half-eaten roll down and pushed her plate away.

"It's been at least a month," Gareth said stubbornly. "And your stomach is^ still bothering you."

"I'm fine," she said again. Though she didn't look at him, she was aware of Nick's sudden attention, and she put her hands in her lap to conceal their trembling.