One Night of Passion: The Night that Changed Everything / Champagne with a Celebrity / At the French Baron's Bidding

Edie shrugged awkwardly. Her smile stayed in place but it looked even more superficial. Nick was reminded of the smile she’d worn when she’d reappeared at his side at the reception, when she had taken him up on his offer of a tour of his renovations. There had been a tense edginess about her then, too.

Then she’d been avoiding the hundred-dollar-haircut man and her mother’s expectations. Was she nervous now? Uncertain? Wishing she could avoid him?

Nick scowled. Why would she feel that way? Didn’t she remember how good it had been between them? If she didn’t, he’d be happy to remind her.

“I need to get dressed,” she said now, and she began edging toward the gate.

“Not on my account.” He grinned.

A blush suffused every bit of Edie’s visible skin, telling him that she certainly hadn’t forgotten.

Even so, the look she gave him was pained. “If we’re going out to dinner, I need to shower and wash my hair.”

“We could get take-out, stay in, celebrate here.” He could think of excellent ways to celebrate that wouldn’t require her dressing at all.

Edie shook her head. “No. If we’re going to stay here,” she said, “I have work to do.”

“Then we’re going out.”

“But—”

“Go take your shower and wash your hair, Edie Daley. Get dressed if you must,” he said. “I’ll swim and change and be at your place in an hour.”

All evening long it felt like a date.

Edie knew better, of course. Her mother had engineered the whole thing. But, knowing it didn’t entirely save her. The minute she had opened the door to Nick standing on her small front porch, it felt as if he were courting her.

Wishful thinking, she’d chastised herself even as she let him open the door of his car for her and, for a moment, brush his fingers over hers as she got in.

Though her fingers tingled with awareness, Edie tried to keep things pleasant and businesslike. That’s what it was, after all.

Business. It was like a mantra. She needed to keep the word going over and over in her head all the time—because the way he smiled at her, the way his eyes seemed to heat when his gaze met hers, the way, every time he refilled her glass of wine and handed it back to her, their fingers touched—all of it made her want more than she knew was really there.

It was a beautiful, cloudless California evening with the lightest of breezes, perfect for sitting at a table outside. The ambiance was casual, the food was fantastic and Nick was charming and flirtatious. She was sure he was like that with every woman he ever met, but telling herself that didn’t make her any less susceptible to him.

He was too easy to talk to, too gorgeous to look at. He answered her questions about the stave church in Norway and another project he was working on at a Scottish castle.

“And yet you came here?” she said. Mona’s powers of persuasion were legendary, but Edie was still surprised Nick had agreed, especially since he had to know she’d be here—and he didn’t “do” relationships.

Or did he? The thought was tantalizing.

He had awakened her, after all. Perhaps she had done the same for him.

Edie leaned in to study him more closely, as if an intent examination of his features would give her the answer to the question.

“I came here,” Nick agreed. He lounged back in his chair and regarded her from beneath hooded lids.

“Why?”

He blinked, as if her blunt question surprised him. But then he shrugged easily. “It’s what I do. And,” he added, one corner of his mouth quirking, “I like a challenge.”

And there it was again—the hum of awareness that seemed to arc between them.

Physical attraction? Oh, yes. Anything more? Edie couldn’t tell.

The noise of the dinner hour had abated and, as other diners left, their table, which was at the far end of the patio of the downtown Santa Barbara restaurant, became more isolated and intimate.

“Cup of coffee?” Nick murmured. He was watching her from beneath slightly lowered lids. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. Edie had no trouble remembering the taste of that mouth and the way his lips had felt pressed against hers.

It was time to go. Edie knew it. But going meant confronting the awareness sooner rather than later. And she wasn’t ready yet. She needed fortification. So she said yes to the cup of coffee. It was strong, black, a full-bodied Colombian roast. Meant to be savored. Meant, she suspected, to give her the stamina—and the caffeine—to stay up all night making love with him.

Which she would dearly love to do. Except …

She clutched the cup like a lifeline, stared into it, trying to find the words to say what she needed to say. Finally she lifted her gaze and met his. “We need to get something straight.”

At her tone one of Nick’s brows lifted. “Oh?”

She gave a jerky little dip of her head. Her fingers strangled the coffee mug as she plunged straight to the heart of the matter. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

Now both of Nick’s brows shot up. He sat up straighter, looking first surprised, then almost bemused. After a moment, he settled back in his chair and picked up his own cup, holding it easily. “Aren’t you?” His tone betrayed only mild interest, making Edie feel like an idiot. But she’d already begun, so she forged ahead.

“No. And yes, I know, you haven’t asked.” There, she’d pointed out the obvious, too. “But since we did once—” she took a quick breath “—I thought the issue could come up again.”

“It could,” Nick agreed. His tone was still mild, but there was a hint of something else, something deeper, yet definitely suggestive that told her she hadn’t entirely misread the situation.

She met his gaze head-on. “So I thought I should make it clear up-front that it’s not going to happen.”

For a long moment Nick didn’t say anything, but his gaze never wavered. Then finally, after what seemed like an eon, but was probably less than half a minute, he asked, “Why not?”

Edie swallowed. Her mouth was dry and her palms were damp, and she was already regretting having opened her mouth. She didn’t do confrontation. Ever. She was a negotiator, not a battler.

Now she said, “It isn’t that I didn’t enjoy it.” Her gaze dropped. She couldn’t look at him squarely now. “I did,” she admitted. Her cheeks were on fire.

“I’m glad.” Nick’s tone was grave, but when she dared look up, Edie thought she saw his lips twitch.

“You’re laughing at me.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I’m … baffled.” He set down his cup and seemed to draw himself together. “I was under the impression that we had both enjoyed it.”

“Yes, well, um,” Edie said. “I’m glad you did, too. But that was it.”

“It?”

“A one-off. You said so yourself.”

She thought his jaw tightened fractionally, but in the shadows she couldn’t be sure.

“It wasn’t a hard and fast rule.” His tone was gruff. “I don’t turn into a pumpkin if I make love to a woman two times.”

Edie’s mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “I’m glad.”

“Do you?” he challenged her.

Slowly she shook her head. “Not a pumpkin, no.”

“Well, then?” he demanded. Their eyes met again. She didn’t see anger in his, thank heavens. It was more curiosity.

“I could fall in love with you.”

“What?” His cup hit the table with a decided thump. Then he went absolutely still. “In love with me?” He sounded at worst appalled, at best disbelieving.

Edie shrugged. Too late to turn back now. “After … after Ben died,” she explained, “I felt like I’d died, too.”

Nick nodded almost impatiently. “Yeah.”

“Months passed. I wasn’t interested in going out. I didn’t care about dating again. I … wasn’t interested in any man.” She hesitated, then spelled it out. “Until you.”

“You don’t love me,” he protested.

“I know that!” Edie said fiercely. “But I like you.”

“Yeah, well, I like you, too,” he said, frowning. “But I’m not falling in love with you!”

“Exactly,” Edie said. “And if I am starting to feel things again, I don’t want to fall for someone who isn’t interested. I’ve already done that,” she told him.

He scowled. “When?”

“I was eighteen. Young, foolish. I should have known better. You remember the actor with my mother at Mont Chamion?”

“Him?” Nick looked appalled.

“He was charming. We dated. It meant more to me than it did to him.” She refused to go into all the bloody details. “It wasn’t like that with Ben,” she said. “So I know how it’s supposed to be.”

“You do, do you?” His dark eyes glittered with challenge.

But Edie had no doubts about that. She wrapped her fingers around the coffee mug and met his gaze squarely. “Yes.”

Nick’s mouth twisted. His fingers drummed lightly on the tabletop. With his other hand he carried his coffee cup to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. He still didn’t speak.

Neither did she. Just as well. She’d probably already said far too much.

The waiter came and refilled Nick’s cup, but Edie put a hand over hers and shook her head with a smile. “I’ve had enough,” she said. “I won’t sleep if I drink anymore.”

The waiter shot a conspiratorial male look in Nick’s direction. “Sleep is overrated.”

Nick made an inarticulate sound, then said harshly, “Could you bring the check, please.”

Edie reached for her purse. “I’ll get it.”

Dark eyes flashed. “The hell you will.”

“It’s business,” Edie protested. “My mother—”

“Your mother has nothing to do with this!” Nick pulled out his credit card and thrust it at the returning waiter before he could even reach the table.

“Really, Nick—”

“Stop arguing, Edie.” His tone was flat and uncompromising. “And put your wallet away.”

Reluctantly Edie put it away. “I don’t expect—”

“You’ve already made what you expect and don’t expect quite clear. Let me make something clear, too—when I invite a woman out to dinner, I expect to pay. Got it?”

“Got it,” Edie muttered.

The waiter came back with the tab, which Nick scanned quickly, nodded and signed, then tucked his card and the receipt back in his wallet.

“You can tax deduct it,” Edie suggested.

Nick glared at her. Then he stood and came around the table to pull out her chair for her before she could push the chair back and get up herself. All very gentlemanly and polite. Just as if she couldn’t hear him grinding his teeth.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as she stood. “And thank you for dinner.”

“My pleasure,” he lied. It had to be a lie. The hum of awareness was still there, but so was a sizzle of annoyance.

Edie quickened her steps as they headed for the exit. But the toe of her sandal caught on a protruding chair leg. She stumbled. Nick’s hand shot out to catch her arm and keep her from falling.

“Thank you,” she said, breathless.

“No problem,” he said, tersely.

The problem was that he didn’t let go. He walked beside her as they headed toward the lot where he’d parked the car, his fingers stayed on her arm. Through the thin cotton of her dress, she could feel them as if there was no barrier at all between them.

Once in the car, she gave him directions on how to get out of Santa Barbara and back up into the hills to Mona’s house. He’d found it himself during the day. She knew it wasn’t as easy at night. He didn’t argue. He didn’t discuss. He didn’t talk at all. He followed her instructions without comment.

He didn’t speak again until he’d parked the car and they were climbing the steps to her apartment.

She would have protested that she didn’t need to be escorted to the door, but there was an implacability about him now that made her hold her tongue. If he wanted to walk all the way up, so be it. He wasn’t coming in.

The porch wasn’t big. As she got out her key, he was close enough that she could smell the woodsy scent of his aftershave. He was close enough that if she turned, she could go up on her tiptoes and kiss his lips.

She didn’t turn. In fact she was glad she managed to stick the key in the lock without fumbling as her hands were trembling slightly. Only when she had the key in the lock, did she look around. “Thank you for dinner,” she said politely.

Nick grunted, his lips pressed in a thin line. So much for all that Savas charm.

She gave him a quick smile, pushed open the door and went in. Roy came bounding to meet her.

“Edie.”

She caught Roy by the collar and looked back at Nick. “Yes?”

His dark eyes bored into hers. “It’s not a given, you know.”

It? “What’s not?”

“That you’ll fall in love. People choose whether or not to fall in love. It’s always a choice.”

“It’s—”

“Always a choice,” he repeated firmly, cutting her off. “You just need to choose not to.”

Edie opened her mouth to protest, but even as she did so, she knew there was no point. If Nick believed that, they would have to agree to disagree. “Good night, Nick.”

“Good night, Edie.” His tone was ever so slightly mocking. A corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Let me know when you change your mind.”

In the morning, he was gone.

She wasn’t surprised to look out the window and see that his car wasn’t there. He’d obviously decided that if bedding her wasn’t going to be a perk of Mona’s renovation job, he didn’t want to be bothered.

In some perverse way, Edie thought perhaps she should be flattered.

At least it meant he had enjoyed their night together in Mont Chamion. But of course it also meant that he saw her presence as nothing more than an opportunity for physical release.

Maybe not so flattering after all.

“So I’m glad I said what I did,” she told Roy over her morning oatmeal.

The dog cocked his head and grinned at her, then looked hopefully at the toast she was buttering.

“You’ve had enough,” she told him. “And I don’t feed you from the table.”

But try convincing Roy of that. He made a low whining sound and didn’t budge or blink an eye as long as the oatmeal and toast lasted. Edie rolled her eyes at him.

He grinned happily, then ambled over to Mona’s house with her when she went over at nine to start work. She knew what he was thinking: it was always possible she would stop for a snack midmorning. He wouldn’t want to miss that.

There was no sign in the kitchen that Nick had eaten before he’d left. It was just the way she’d left it yesterday—as if he’d never been here, as if it had all been a dream.

It hadn’t been a dream. Perhaps, though, Edie thought, it was a wake-up call.

Maybe Mona was right. Now that her hormones had been reawakened, maybe it was time for her to stop sitting at home and waiting for the right man to appear in her life. After the disastrous end to her relationship with Kyle, she hadn’t sat home and moped. She’d gone back to the university where, a few months later, she’d met Ben.

He’d been the right man, just as clearly as Kyle had been the wrong one.

Maybe, now it was time to do that again. She had loved Ben, but she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone. Ben wouldn’t have wanted her to. So if Nick Savas was the wrong man, it was up to her to find the right one.

He’d done her a favor.

She kept telling herself that.

She even acted on it. When Derek Saito, a local English teacher, called that morning to ask if Mona would come and talk to the drama class when school started, she didn’t just take down the information and promise to check with Mona and call him back. She actually chatted with him.

Derek was Ronan’s age. They’d been in the same class in school. They’d been surfing buddies and had played tennis together. He’d been Ben’s friend, too. And she remembered well how kind he’d been to her after Ben’s death. Now, after she caught him up on what Ronan was up to, he asked about her.

“I’m all right,” she said. “Working hard.”

“Too hard, I’d guess.” Derek knew her well. “As usual.”

Every other time Edie had disagreed. But today she said, “You could be right. I need to get out more.”

There was a pause, as if Derek hadn’t been expecting that. But then he said, “So, want to go out with me?” There was a quick pause, then he said, “I’m not hitting on you, Edie. Not yet,” he qualified. “Ben was too good a friend. But there’s a concert on campus Friday night. Old-timers. Couple of eighties rock groups. Pure nostalgia … if you’re interested?”

It sounded like fun. And Derek was a friend. She doubted he’d ever be more than that, but why not go? What was there to stay home for?

“I’m interested,” she said. “Yes.”

“Great!” There was a sudden spike of enthusiasm in his voice. “Dinner first?”

“I could cook,” Edie offered.

“No. We’ll grab a burger or something. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Shall I meet you at the restaurant? You wouldn’t have to come all the way out here.” Derek lived in town. The university was several miles on the other side.

“I’ll pick you up. My pleasure,” he said. “See you then.”

But the moment Edie hung up, she sat there a moment thinking, What have I done?

“Nothing,” she said out loud with all the firmness she could muster. “You’re going out with a friend. You’re getting a life. Mona will be proud,” she added wryly.

Speaking of whom, she had a few words to say to her mother. So she picked up the phone again and tried to ring Mona. Again she got no answer.

She’d already tried twice this morning, right after she’d come into the office. There had been no answer then, either, so apparently Mona was still out of range.

She supposed Nick had sent her an email to say he had decided not to do the renovations. Serve her right, Edie thought, for all her meddling.

But a part of her felt a little bereft because the adobe wouldn’t be salvaged. Going back over there with Nick had reminded her that once upon a time it had been a nice house, that she had made lots of good memories there. She had hoped to make more with Ben, though, to be honest she wasn’t sure that ever would have happened. She’d thought that maybe when they’d come back from Fiji they could have fixed it up as a vacation house, even though they’d probably live elsewhere close to wherever Ben worked—somewhere right on the water.

Now none of it would happen.

Life was what happened when you were making other plans. She thought it was John Lennon who had said that. But Mona said it, too. Her mother was just a fount of wisdom these days, Edie thought grimly.

At least she had made a plan. She was going to a concert with Derek on Friday. And this afternoon she was going to finish doing the filing she’d intended to do yesterday when Nick Savas had been the “life” that had interrupted her plans.

The phone rang. Edie picked it up. “Edie Daley.”

“Hey,” a gruff masculine voice she hadn’t expect to hear ever again said into her ear, “can you meet me at the adobe with your key? I’ve got tools and a truckload of roofing tiles to unload.”

Chapter Six

SHE was still an annoyingly attractive woman, even when she stood there, hands on her hips, watching him back a truck down to the adobe, with her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Nick gave her a wave and a cheerful grin through the open window as he passed. “Thanks.”

If she replied, he didn’t hear her. He didn’t see her mouth move, either, but he was focused on getting the truck as close to the house as he could. When he had, he flicked off the engine and hopped out.

Edie was still standing in the yard. “What are you doing?” she demanded as he walked toward her.

“Going to start with the roof. Figured while I was in town, I’d see if I could get what I needed.” He shrugged and spread his hands. “I did.”

He couldn’t get all of the tiles he would need. But he got all they had at the moment with more on order. By the time they arrived he would be ready for them. In the meantime he had to finish pulling the rest of the old roof off.

“You left,” Edie said.

“No. I went into town. Had to file permits, pick up materials.” He gave her his best sunny smile.

She still had her hands on her hips. “I thought you’d changed your mind and gone.”

He’d considered it. Half the night, which he’d spent either restlessly prowling the house or swimming laps in the damn pool to take the edge off his frustration, he’d thought about cutting his losses, packing his bags and hitting the road.

God knew he had plenty of other jobs he could be working on. He had commitments lined up for the next two years. He’d had to do some serious shuffling to fit Mona’s little ranch house in.

Which was why he was staying, he told himself. He’d said he would. But in fact he hadn’t told Mona yet. She was unreachable—off somewhere at the ends of the earth in Southeast Asia shooting a film. She wouldn’t even know he’d changed his mind until he was gone.

But he didn’t go—wasn’t going—because of the expressions on Edie’s face when she’d walked around the old adobe yesterday afternoon. He’d been examining the walls, the roof, the foundation. But even more, he’d been studying Edie.

Her face was such a mixture of wistfulness, yearning, happiness and sadness as she’d drifted through the rooms, run her fingers over the woodwork, stood staring out the windows, that he’d spent far less time going over the bones of the house and far more time watching her.

And last night after her “I’m not sleeping with you” announcement, after which he’d been ready to leave, he remembered the way she looked, and he couldn’t go.

Instead he’d gone downstairs and wandered around Mona’s house looking at all the photos on the piano, on the bookshelves, on the walls.

Mona had her share of fine paintings and prints by well-known and not-so-well-known artists. But by far the most numerous framed pieces were family photos. Not one of them was of Mona alone—they were all of her children, her spouses (Edie’s dad and the exes, he gathered) or family group shots.

There were a lot of Edie.

In the kitchen there were magnetic snapshots on the refrigerator—of all the kids, but he only noticed Edie. In one she was playing in the pool, her head thrown back as she laughed. In another she had her arms looped over the shoulders of a pair of identical redheaded young boys. They were freckled and gangly, but they had Edie’s eyes. In a third she was sitting on the patio with her arms around Roy. She was smiling, but the wistfulness was there in this one.

He found others as well. He looked at them all—Edie as a girl on a pony with a boy who had to be her older brother, Edie suited up to play volleyball at some high school, Edie and Rhiannon, Edie and another girl who was also probably a sister, more of Edie and the twins. Edie and a handsome young man with their arms around each other and expressions of pure delight on their faces. It had to be Edie and her husband.

He almost couldn’t look at that one, knowing what he knew. He wondered that she could. But there were several, including a larger more formal portrait that must have been taken on their wedding day. It was in pride of place on the piano. She must see it every single day.

He hadn’t looked at a photo of Amy in years.

The photos—and the memory of Edie’s face that afternoon—made him stay. She wanted the house salvaged. He could give her that.

Besides, he wasn’t a quitter.

If she thought she could just say no and make them both miserable—well, she was wrong. He’d leave when he was good and ready to leave, when he could turn his back and walk away, which he would.

Because, as he’d told her, love was a choice. And he’d done it once. He wasn’t doing it again. Ever. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy their time together.

He started off-loading the tiles. “You could help,” he suggested, slanting her a glance. “Or not.”

Edie didn’t move for a long moment, but then he heard her footsteps coming toward the truck. “Ten minutes,” she said. “Then I have to get back to work.”