Jane (22 page)

“Come inside with me,” he whispered, “and let me make love to you” — he undid another button — “all night long, and then all day tomorrow, and then the day after that…”

“You have a show to put on tomorrow night,” I reminded him.

Mr. Rathburn — Nico — sighed deeply. He brushed my hair back again, tucking it behind my ears. “That’s the spirit. You’ll keep me honest, won’t you?”

“I’ll try.” The wind had picked up. It sent the line of arbor vitae bowing back and forth, rustled the horse chestnut canopy above us, and blew my hair into my eyes so I could hardly see. I gave Nico my hand and let him lead me back to the house.

That night, the dark of Nico’s bedroom was slashed again and again by lightning; the storm buffeted the house for an hour. As he undressed me — so slowly I thought I might stop breathing — electricity flickered outside, almost as if caused by the heat in the air between us. In my plain cotton bra and panties — how I wished I’d had on something prettier — I stood and watched him unbutton his shirt while lightning crackled, first on one side of Thornfield Park and then on the other. Nico lifted me in his arms and set me down on the bed. He unclasped my bra, his eyes looking intently into mine, watching for my reaction. Then he eased the panties down over my hip bones. Just then, the clouds opened, and rain pounded against the windows. He kissed his way down my body. I shut my eyes tight and felt myself arc upward to meet his
lips. Every nerve in my body sang out at once, till something inside me burst like a soap bubble.

“Darling, darling Jane.” Now the face I loved so well was before me, kissing me again, his lips soft on mine. I ran my hands down the skin of his chest. It felt smooth and warm, with that tangle of coarse fur just at the breastbone.

“Nico.” I savored the taste of his name on my tongue.
Could I really be kissing Nico Rathburn, the man I’ve grown to love so hopelessly?
The thought made me light-headed. I said his name again, loving the sound of it.

At the exact moment our bodies merged — and to be honest, it hurt, though I know he was trying to be gentle — a bolt of lightning struck so near that the house shook. Barely a second later, thunder rattled the windowpanes. We froze, stunned by the violence and, I think, a little surprised to see each other in the sudden, temporary brightness, to discover each other — so familiar and yet so strange — in this new way. Every so often, a lightning flash would reveal us to each other, and the expression on his face — so rapt, so helpless, so utterly mine — was the most beautiful thing I ever expected to see in my life.

The next morning I woke before Nico. It took me a while to realize I wasn’t dreaming. Strewn across the floor were our clothes. Impulsively, I grabbed Nico’s soft black T-shirt and pulled it on over my head. In the bathroom, I bent over the sink to splash my face with water, and when I straightened, what I saw in the mirror surprised me. It was the same face I’d known all my life — and yet it wasn’t. Though not a particularly glamorous shade of brown, my hair shone in the morning light and fell below my shoulders. My eyes
gleamed a brighter green than I’d ever seen them before, and my face was rosy, a dimple in each cheek. My parted lips revealed straight, neat teeth. I looked happy, even pretty.

“What are you smiling at?” Nico had slipped into the room behind me; he wrapped his arms around my waist. I didn’t answer — how could I admit I’d been admiring myself in the mirror? — but he read my mind. “You’re seeing what I’ve seen all along: a lovely, adorable woman.” He nuzzled my neck.

I suddenly remembered my duties. “Maddy… she must be up by now.”

“Lucia’s got her,” Nico said. “Today would have been your usual day off, right? No need to worry.”

Those last four words were the same ones he’d used the night before when, after I’d inquired about being safe, he had reached into the drawer of the bedside table and drawn out a satin-lined mahogany box of condoms. “Standard rock-star equipment,” he’d said with a sly smile. “There’s a stash of these in every room.” Now, blushing at the memory, I slipped from his grasp and began gathering up our clothes from the bedroom floor.

“You can leave that. Amber will take care of it.” His hair rumpled and his eyelids heavy with sleep, he sat down on the bed and yawned. “We need coffee.” He jabbed at the intercom button beside his bed. “Where the hell are Amber and Linda?” He jabbed again and again. “Lucia?”’

“Lucia’s busy,” I said, pulling on my jeans. “You know, you could make your own coffee.”

He looked momentarily puzzled.

“Or don’t you know how?”

“My secret’s out. When I’m not onstage or in the studio, I’m utterly useless.”

“Oh, I can think of some other things you’re good at.” I reached for both his hands and tried to tug him to his feet. “But it’s time you learned to make coffee. Come on. I’ll show you how. It’s not exactly hard.”

“Okay, then. Civilize me.”

“I’m a nanny, not a miracle worker.”

Nico’s first-ever pot of coffee wasn’t bad. We carried our mugs onto the deck and sat side by side on the top step, looking out at the damp grass glistening in the morning sun.

Nico took a sip of coffee. “Hey, this is better than Walter’s.”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far” — I rested my head on his shoulder — “but it’s pretty good for your first try.”

“You’ll make me into a whole new man.” He threw his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in a little closer. “And that’s only one of the reasons I love you.”

“I love you too, Nico.”

“And you’ll always love me? Imperfect as I am?”

“I’ll always love you,” I told him, and meant it with my whole heart.

Later that morning, as we ate pancakes together in the breakfast room, our hair still wet from the shower, I looked up and saw Lucia, clipboard in hand. She was alone. Maddy must have been off at preschool.

“Nico, I need to talk to you about…” She stared as though she’d seen something disturbing, and I suddenly saw the two of us
through her eyes and realized how perfectly clear it must be that we’d spent the night together. Lucia pursed her lips, looked away, and continued. “You know the horse chestnut tree? The one out in the field? It was struck by lightning last night. Split right in half. I thought I’d call in a tree service to haul it away.”

“Don’t do that,” Nico said. “Leave it as it is. I want to see it for myself.” He turned the page of the
Times,
apparently unconcerned by Lucia’s cool tone.

“Okay then.” She hurried out of the room.

“Wasn’t that the tree we sat under last night?” I asked. “The one where…”

Nico looked up. “It must be,” he said, the frown line appearing between his eyes.

“Lucia’s upset with us,” I told him. “Or maybe just with me.”

“Upset? Because we’re?” He pointed first at me and then at himself.

“I think so.”

“Well, it’s none of her business.” He put the paper aside. “Try not to worry about what Lucia thinks. You’ve got more important things to think about. For instance: what shall we do today?”

“You have a concert to prepare for, don’t you?”

“All I have to do is roll in for a sound check a few hours before the show. You and I have the whole day to spend together. Let’s zip into New York City. There’s someplace I want to take you. No questions. It’s a surprise.”

Benjamin let us out in front of a boutique on Fifth Avenue. A woman in head-to-toe black buzzed us into the intimidating,
ultramodern interior — stark charcoal-gray walls and spare furnishings. We were the only customers. “Nice to see you again, Nico.” She extended a slender hand. “And Ms. Moore, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” If she registered the comparative drabness of the clothes I was wearing, she didn’t let it show. “I’m Michaela. Come, make yourself at home. Would you like a glass of Prosecco?” She looked at me a bit more closely. “Or maybe some sparkling water?”

When she had disappeared, I turned to Nico, who had settled onto a long white sofa. “What’s this about?”

“You need something to wear tonight, right?” During the long ride into the city, he had refused to tell me where we were going, and I had been too happy to care. “This is the flagship store of one of the best designers in the business. Just follow my lead.”

When Michaela returned, I accepted the glass of water and occupied myself by looking at the racks of clothing, while Nico explained our errand to her. “Miss Moore needs a complete new wardrobe.” I swallowed hard, not at all sure how I felt about this particular surprise.

Behind curtains, I submitted to the tape measure, and Michaela’s appraising eye. She brought me racks of clothes to try on — every type of garment from silken underthings to summer sheaths in a rainbow of colors to high-heeled pumps in leather soft as butter. With each combination of items I tried on, she asked me if I wanted to walk out into the atrium to ask Nico his opinion, and I balked and told her no. When I had tried everything on, I excused myself, got back into the oxford blouse, narrow skirt, and flats I’d worn into the store, and told her I needed to speak to Nico.

I found him where I’d left him, on the couch in the atrium, where he was growling something into his cell phone. When I entered the room, he snapped the phone shut and stood to meet me. “You’re done already?” he asked. “Didn’t you like anything here?”

“What’s this all about?” I asked him. “I appreciate your generosity, I do, but this is just too much.”

“Too much? You need clothes, don’t you?”

“I have clothes,” I told him.

“Yes, of course, but you’re my girlfriend now. I want to show you off to the whole world, tonight and always. Once we go public, your picture will wind up in newspapers, in magazines, on TV. It will be a whole new life. After this, I thought I’d take you to a little spa I know on Madison Avenue, get you a manicure, a haircut, a facial, whatever you like.”

“You’re ashamed of me?” I asked. “You want to make me over into some other kind of woman? What’s next? Breast implants?”

“No, no, no.” He looked for a moment as though he might start fuming and shouting. Then he thought better of it and changed his tack, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand until I could feel my resolve starting to melt. “You’re everything I could ever want, Jane. No matter what you think of yourself, you’re beautiful, and I want the world to see that. I want to dress you up in silk and lace — maybe some emerald earrings to match those eyes of yours — so you can shine like the jewel you are.”

“That’s not me, Nico. I’d feel like I was wearing a Halloween costume.”

He harrumphed. “What planet are you from, anyway? How
did I find the one woman in the world who isn’t thrilled by the chance to spend my money?”

I looped my arm through his. “Nico?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It isn’t fair.”

“Remember when you told me about Maddy’s mother? How she was using you? You called her a gold digger.”

“Because she was,” he said. “This is totally different.
You’re
totally different.”

“Yes,” I told him. “I’m different.”

“No kidding.”

Just then, Michaela rounded the corner, asking if she could refill our glasses and if she might show me anything else. My eyes met Nico’s. Then I turned to her.

“I don’t need an entire wardrobe,” I said, “but I’ll take a few things for special occasions.”

“More sparkling water,” Nico told Michaela. When she’d departed with our glasses, he turned back to me. “At least pick something sexy for tonight,” he insisted. “Something low cut. With a tight skirt. Maybe some stiletto heels?”

“Is it me you want, Nico?” I asked him. “Because that’s not how I dress. I don’t know how to walk in stilettos. I like people to talk to my face, not my breasts.” I refused the second glass of water and followed Michaela back into the dressing room, where I chose what I would need for that night and a few other outfits. She promised to have that night’s ensemble delivered to Thornfield Park by five.

“What did you get?” Nico asked

“You’ll see tonight,” I told him. “But don’t expect me to look like a sex goddess, or you’ll be profoundly disappointed.”

“She’ll look lovely and tasteful,” Michaela assured him. “Think Audrey Hepburn. You’ll be very pleased.”

Emboldened, Nico handed over his credit card and insisted that we go to a jewelry store a few blocks away.

“I’ll wear my pearl earrings tonight,” I told him. “They may not be avant-garde enough for your public, but they’re mine, and they suit me.”

“A haircut then? A pedicure? A belly button ring?” He seemed to be kidding about that last one. I patted his hand.

“Can we please just go home? I’d like to sit on the back deck and eat a sandwich and read a book and think about anything other than clothes for a couple of hours.”

“You win,” Nico said, then remained silent until we were gliding uptown in the back of his Range Rover. “You know, though” — he took my hand — “you need to get used to being pampered. I plan to take you everywhere I go from now on. Paris, Milan, Barcelona, Stockholm, Edinburgh. Everywhere. Wherever I play, I want you to be. It’s a win-win situation. You’ll get to see the world. And I’ll get you — to keep me company everywhere I go.”

“You’ll be sick of me. And what will I do with myself while you’re working?”

“You can watch me play,” he said. “And you can sightsee wherever we are. You can sketch and paint, make your art all day long.”

“But how will I earn my keep?”

“Earn your keep? You’re a rock star’s girlfriend, angel. You don’t have to earn your keep.”

“Of course I have to work,” I told him. “I can’t just tag along with no purpose.”

“No purpose?” He checked to see if Benjamin was looking in the rearview mirror, then he kissed me softly on the lips. “Your purpose is to be my love slave.” He smiled mischievously and slid his hand up my skirt to caress my inner thigh.

I gasped and pulled away from him. “I’m not going to be any kind of slave.” I kept my voice level. “If that’s what you have in mind, I think you’d better find someone else to pamper.”

Nico was silent for a long time. “You can sell your paintings. I can hook you up with a gallery, get you a show,” he said finally.