Nathan's Child (14 page)

She had enough trouble remaining indifferent to Nathan. She didn't need to see his hard abs and bare chest. She didn't need to watch his bathing trunks mold to his masculine frame and watch water stream down his belly and disappear into his trunks. She had enough memories. She didn't need that!

The night before she'd packed up and made Maurice come and get her, she hadn't been able to sleep because of those memories. They'd had her shifting around on her bed, agitated and uncomfortable. It was too hot, she'd told herself. It was too humid. There were half a dozen reasons why she couldn't sleep.

Finally she'd got up to use the bathroom and get a drink of water. Ordinarily when she did so, she tried to get from her room to the bathroom as quickly and quietly as possible.

Last night she'd been quiet, but she hadn't moved quickly enough. The moonlight had tempted her to slow down as she passed the archway to the living room. And a glimpse of the sculpted masculine form sprawled on the sofa had immediately drawn her eye, had made her pause and stare.

The silvery light streaming in the window highlighted the planes and threw into shadow the angles of Nathan's muscular body. He was lying on his back, his only covering a pair of light-colored loose-fitting boxer shorts. But their looseness didn't completely mask the swell of his masculinity.

Carin couldn't help herself. She stopped. She looked. And then Nathan had moved and spoken to her.

Dear God, he'd been awake! He'd seen her standing there ogling him!

At least he'd only thought she needed help! Quickly Carin had assured him she was fine and had limped rapidly away.

That had been bad. What had followed was worse.

If she had been restless before her trek down the hall, after Nathan had spoken to her, Carin hadn't been able to sleep at all. She'd been awake and staring out into the moonlight through the sliding glass door to her bedroom when another door had opened and she saw Nathan, still wearing only his boxers, step out onto the deck.

As she watched, he had grabbed one of the towels hung out to dry on the railing. Then, slinging it around his neck, he hurried down the steps and in seconds had disappeared through the trees onto the path that led to the beach.

He was going for a swim? At two-thirty in the morning?

Why? Because he was as restless as she was? Because he was remembering things, too?

It was possible. It was even likely. She didn't question that he was still attracted to her. She didn't doubt that he'd be delighted to go to bed with her. He just wouldn't love her.

Carin wanted love.

But three-quarters of an hour later, when she saw him come out of the trees and into the clearing wearing nothing but the towel around his shoulders, she found herself tempted to settle for less.

Dear God, he was beautiful.

She would love to paint him, to capture the hard lines of his body silvered in the moonlight, to catch his catlike grace as he strode across the grass and mounted the steps. But more than that she wanted to touch him, to feel once more the strength and hardness of his body beneath her
fingers. She wanted to run her hands over his hair-roughened skin. She wanted to trace the line of his jaw with her lips. She wanted to touch them to his chest, to kiss her way down the arrow of hair that ran down the middle of it, that arrowed directly toward his very visible masculinity.

She wanted to touch him there.

Carin sucked in a sharp breath at the heat in her own body, at its readiness to know him fully, to let him touch her!

Love.

She wanted
love,
she reminded herself.

And that's when she knew that come daybreak she had to move out.

Living dangerously was one thing. But she was in danger of crossing the line from dangerous to foolish.

Because it would be foolish indeed—as well as all too easy—to settle for sex with Nathan Wolfe.

T
HE BANGING
on the front door woke her. Carin struggled up, dazed, then worried. It was just past seven. Who would be knocking at this hour?

All she could think was that something had happened to Miss Saffron. The old lady didn't have a phone. Maybe she'd fallen and someone had found her and needed to call Doc Rasmussen. She fumbled into her robe, cursed her cast and, not even bothering to comb her hair, she hurried down the stairs and jerked open the door.

It was Nathan. He grinned at her.

Carin stared, nonplussed, aware of her uncombed hair and hastily donned robe in the face of his freshly shaved bright-eyed face. “Nathan? I thought—” She dragged a hand through her hair. “What are you doing here?”

“Picking up Lacey.”

“Now? It's seven o'clock! She's not even up.”

“Well, if you were at my house, I could have woken her and you wouldn't be bothered.”

He was baiting her, Carin knew. She deliberately didn't respond to it. “I'll get her up. You can come back later.”

Instead he stepped past her into the living room. “No problem. I'll have a cup of coffee while I'm waiting.”

“I didn't make coffee this morning.” Carin followed him into the kitchen, wishing she could just grab him by the collar and throw him back out the door. It had been bad enough being around Nathan at his place. There, at least, the rooms were big enough that it didn't seem as if they were on top of each other. Here it did. As he got out coffee mugs, then turned to look in the other cupboard for
the coffee, he literally brushed right against her. Carin jumped back.

Nathan didn't even seem to notice. “You want a cup, too?” He found the coffee and began measuring it into the coffeepot.

“No, I do not.” She glared at him. “I'm going up to get dressed.”

“Don't bother on my account.” He gave her a grin that had the effect of annoying her even more.

She banged on Lacey's door, then took refuge in her room. It took her a long time to get dressed, partly because the cast made things difficult and partly because she was so flustered that she couldn't seem to manage to button her shorts or do something with her hair. Ordinarily she would have asked for Lacey's help. But she wasn't going to ask this morning.

If she did, no doubt Nathan would be the one to button her shorts or braid her hair!

Besides, she decided, if she took enough time he and Lacey would be gone before she came back downstairs again. In fact, it was true.

A few minutes passed and Lacey clattered downstairs, a few more and she'd obviously grabbed breakfast because she sang out, “See you later, Mom!”

“See you later,” Carin called back and breathed a sigh of relief.

Five hours later Nathan was back.

“We ran into Thomas and Lorenzo at the dive shop when we got back,” he said. “She went off with them. So I brought lunch.”

“I don't need you bringing lunch.” Carin said testily as he came in carrying a bag that she recognized as being full of conch fritters. Her mouth watered. Her stomach growled.

“Thank you, Nathan. I'm really glad you thought of me sitting here by myself with no food in the house,” he said
in a mock falsetto as he walked right past her into the kitchen and began opening her cabinets.

“I do, too, have food in the house!”

“Not according to Lacey.” He got out plates, set them on the table, opened a drawer, took out silverware and began dishing up lunch.

Lacey was a traitor, Carin thought grimly. They had
some
food in the house, and Maurice would have gone shopping for her.

“Lacey is a picky eater,” she grumbled.

“Good thing you're not,” Nathan said cheerfully. “Otherwise these conch fritters and cole slaw would be going to waste.” He plunked several fritters on her plate and added a dollop of cole slaw alongside them, then sat down and began to eat.

He was back again at dinner. And the next day it was exactly the same. She might as well not have moved out at all. Nathan was bound and determined to make them dependent on him.

Lacey was already under his spell. And Carin knew that she only had so much resistance. If he kept this up, she was afraid she would be in danger of succumbing.

She couldn't allow it!

And she could just sit here and hope that his work would take him away. Undoubtedly eventually it would—but not soon enough.

So if he wouldn't leave, she would.

She had told Stacia she wasn't coming to New York, but now it sounded like a very good idea.

It would be a treat for Lacey, who had been all for it from the moment the show had been proposed. It would make Stacia happy. And given what—or rather, who—she was facing here, dealing with millions of New Yorkers seemed far less stressful.

She called Stacia and said she would come.

“Well, you've seen sense at last. Hooray. I'll make the arrangements.”

“Wonderful. Thanks.” She didn't say a word about Nathan.

She didn't say a word
to
Nathan, either.

She didn't want him deciding to come along. This was her trip—hers and Lacey's. And if she felt the tiniest bit guilty because his photos were in the show, too—and had in fact saved the show for her—well, he'd had other shows, and she needed some space.

She didn't even say anything to Lacey about the trip. She didn't want her telling Nathan. Besides, she wanted it to be a surprise.

She only told Hugh because she needed him to take them to Nassau. “Bright and early Monday morning,” she said.

She didn't say they needed to leave early because she wanted to be gone before Nathan showed up.

On Monday morning she got Lacey up early.

“It's barely six,” Lacey grumbled. “Dad didn't say he was coming early today.”

“It's nothing to do with your father,” Carin said. “Come on. Get up. It's a surprise.”

Lacey rubbed her eyes, looking disgruntled, then curious. “A suprise? What kind of surprise?” But she was dragging herself out of bed.

“You'll see.”

Now that they were actually going, Carin was feeling excited, too. She'd packed a bag for each of them last night after Lacey was asleep, then called Fiona and asked her to feed Zeno while they were gone.

Now, when Lacey came downstairs and saw the bags sitting by the door, she looked at her mother, wide-eyed. “We're going on a trip? Where are we going? Are we going to New York?”

“Wait and see,” Carin said, smiling, as Hugh pulled up out front.

“Are we going to Nassau?” Lacey pressed.

“You'll see,” Carin said. “You'll love it.”

But she had no idea how thrilled Lacey would be—or how shocked
she
would be—when they got to the landing field and Nathan was standing by the helicopter, grinning at them!

Carin opened her mouth as he opened the door of Hugh's car and winked at her.

“No arguments. Not in front of Lacey.”

 

It had been sheer luck that Stacia had called his place to talk to Carin about the arrangements for the trip to New York. Obviously, she'd thought Carin and Lacey were still living with him.

“Trip?” Nathan had echoed when she'd rung.

“For the opening. It's next week, you know. I was badgering her to come and she kept saying no. Then, all of a sudden she finally said yes. I suppose,” she'd added, “I have you to thank for that.”

Very likely, yes, Nathan thought grimly.

“She didn't mention if you were coming, too,” Stacia went on. “Are you?”

“I am.” Oh, yes.

“Wonderful. I told her I'd make arrangements for a place to stay and—”

“Not necessary. We'll be staying with my family.”

“Oh, of course. That will be lovely for you.” Stacia's tone told him how delighted she was.

Nathan doubted Carin would feel the same.

She hadn't argued with him in front of Lacey, but she hadn't exactly been sweetness and light personified since then, either.

Lacey had been delighted enough not to notice that her mother was grinding her teeth.

Nathan had noticed. He'd noticed, too, that she'd deliberately ignored him, clambering into the helicopter to sit
on the seat next to Hugh's dog, Belle, his “copilot,” leaving Nathan to sit with Lacey in the back.

He didn't mind sitting with Lacey. His daughter's enthusiasm delighted him and, as far as Nathan was concerned, it justified what he'd done, arranging things without Carin's knowledge. She wouldn't have agreed if he'd told her—and it was all too clear how happy Lacey was.

As the helicopter lifted off, she was practically bouncing off the seat in her excitement.

“See! There's the school! And our house, and Lorenzo's, and Maurice and Estelle's! Oh, look! We're going to see your place!” She gave another bounce as Hugh aimed the copter toward the seaward side of the island. “See it, Dad? Mom? Do you see?”

“I see,” Nathan said.

Carin glanced that way, but she didn't say anything. She sat, stiff and unyielding all the way to Nassau, her good arm wrapped around Belle.

 

So much for taking charge and controlling her own destiny. So much for putting space between them. So much for the trip for two—just her and Lacey—to New York.

Of course Nathan was coming along because Stacia—of all people!—had called him and asked if he was coming. Naturally he'd said he was. And because he was Nathan, naturally he'd told Stacia not to bother making arrangements, that he would handle that end of things.

“Handle them how?” Carin asked.

“Well, we can't go to a hotel,” he said practically. “My brothers would be offended.”

And Carin knew without asking that Nathan had no intention of staying in a hotel no matter how much she argued, which she couldn't do anyway since Lacey was sitting next to her, all ears.

“Don't say we're going to stay with Dominic.”

The very thought appalled her. Stay with the man she'd jilted? Talk about uncomfortable situations.

“No. His place isn't really big enough. We're going to stay with Rhys and Mariah.”

Carin barely remembered Rhys, though she felt pretty sure he would remember her. “He's married again?” She knew his first wife had died.

“To Mariah. She's Sierra's sister. You'll like her.”

“Does she have purple hair, too?” Lacey asked avidly. She thought Sierra's purple locks were absolutely fascinating.

Carin thought they were pretty amazing, too. She still found it hard to believe that Sierra, with her purple hair and funky day-glo clothes, was Dominic's wife. But they'd certainly seemed deeply in love when she'd met them on the island last autumn.

“I don't know what color it is now,” Nathan answered Lacey. “You'll have to wait and see. Dominic's picking us up.”

 

It should have been horrible.

In scant moments she was going to be face-to-face with the man she'd jilted. She'd seen him before—twice—but both times had been on Pelican Cay. She'd never presumed to set foot on his turf. And even though Dominic had professed to have forgiven her, who knew what he really felt? And would he and his wife really want to welcome her into their home?

Carin knew Sierra was “unusual.” But did her unusualness extend to welcoming her husband's ex-fiancée? Carin tried to imagine and couldn't. Why on earth couldn't Nathan have left well enough alone?

“I've got your tote bag,” Nathan said over his shoulder, steering Lacey ahead of him and checking behind him to make sure Carin was following as they disembarked. As if she might duck out and vanish given a chance.

If it weren't for Lacey, she would have been tempted. She didn't want to have to smile and make small talk with Dominic. She didn't want to go back to his Fifth Avenue apartment and act like she was glad to be there.

What she wanted was to strangle Nathan for forcing her into this.

But she couldn't, she thought grimly. Not in front of Lacey.

The next thing she knew Dominic was striding toward them, his hard face lightened by a broad grin and his whole tough demeanor softened by the baby girl he held in one arm. He gave Nathan a punch on the shoulder, then wrapped his free arm around his brother's neck and gave it a friendly squeeze.

“Took your own sweet time coming to see us, didn't you, bro?” When he released Nathan, he wrapped Lacey in a one-armed hug and said, “My God, you're like a weed. You've grown a foot since spring.” And then he released her and looked at Carin, smiling still as he held out a hand to her. “Welcome home.”

It had been years since Carin had thought of New York City as home. And yet Dominic was right. She'd felt that eager longing prick her as the city had come into view. She'd been like Lacey as they'd left Pelican Cay, her eyes seeking landmarks, feeling a sense of connection and remembrance. She'd been barely more than a child when she'd been here last. But the city would always be a part of her.

She was grateful to Dominic for recognizing that. Now she took the hand he offered and met his eyes. “Thank you. It's good to be here.” And as she said the words, she felt the tightness in her chest ease. She wasn't lying as she'd thought she would have to.

“Meet my baby girl,” Dominic said, a father's deep quiet pride in his voice as he held out his daughter. “This is Lily.”

“She's absolutely beautiful, Dominic,” Carin said, and meant that, too.

Lily, who was probably four or five months old, looked a great deal like Lacey had at that age. She had lots of straight dark hair and deep-blue eyes just like her father's and uncle's. She studied Carin seriously.

“Hello, Lily,” Carin said gravely and reached out a finger to stroke the little girl's hand. Lily's fingers wrapped around hers. She had a fierce grip.