
Contents

Copyright Information

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

THE UNSEALED HEART

Copyright © 2017 by Susann Oriel.  
ISBN 9781370556175  
First published in 2013 as Bid Me Now.  
New edition by Susann Oriel.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author.
CHAPTER ONE

She was toast.

Miri knew it as surely as the man bearing down on her with the 'do not disturb' expression knew. She would be lucky to get ten seconds of his time before he told her to get lost.

Okay, so turning up without an appointment wasn't smart, but it was too late to turn tail and run. Besides, she'd rehearsed her spiel and wasn't going to let that, or her new business outfit, go to waste. She also had the letter from the realtor, confirming Brannagh Enterprises had won the sealed bid for the Charmford Mill, so she was fully prepared. Why an international demolition company would want to pull down an abandoned textile mill in a small East Coast town, no one could say, least of all the realtor when she'd asked him. In any event, it was a good thing they'd won the bid as it wouldn't matter to them if they onsold it for a profit.

So here she was in the mill's parking lot, ready to do business. If life changes came down to a few critical moments, this had to be one of them. Providing of course, she survived this man. He looked lethal.

By the time he was in front of her, Miri's courage was perilously close to dissolving. He was tall, powerfully built, and from the way his brow was pulled low, not a man to mess with.

"Are you Nick Brannagh?"

"Yeah, that's me. Can I help you?"

Help? The way he was looking her over, he seemed more interested in helping himself to her outfit. Miri took a deep breath for steadiness, aware that her new five-inch pumps were anything but steady on the lumpy asphalt. "I'm here to make you an offer," she blurted.

"What?"

The word came out of his mouth like a rifle shot. At least she'd pulled his attention upward, even if it was only for a moment. His eyes were back inside her shirt. Foolish woman for leaving an extra button undone to try for the business-sexy look. Not that she'd ever tried business-sexy before, but this man appeared to appreciate her efforts. For an eternity, it seemed.

"You'd better come in," he said, when he finally looked up.

Miri blinked, startled by the unexpected invitation. He might be rude, but at least she'd made it past the ten-second mark. "Thank you. I really appreciate you sparing me the time. I'm Marisa Jamieson."

He nodded and strode off toward the entrance, leaving Miri to totter along in his wake, cursing her heels and every pothole in her way.

He was three long strides ahead of her by the time she reached the mill's steps, but Miri had no complaints. She hadn't exactly achieved anything close to a business-sexy walk. Her shoes were killing her and her hair was sticking to the back of her neck in the heat.

Then there was his ass to look at. Maybe it was a proximity thing or just her sex-starved body sending out a mayday for attention. Whatever it was, Miri couldn't stop herself from ogling its perfection, or the rest of him, for that matter. Big shoulders, heavily muscled arms, a broad back and thick thighs straining his jeans.

He turned just as she flicked her eyes upward. "Would you like some water? You look hot."

Oh, God, the man had caught her looking at his ass. Damn. From now on, his butt and every other eye-tempting part of him would have to be strictly off limits, which meant she'd be looking at the floor the whole time. Lord, and if the situation wasn't difficult enough, she was about to giggle. "Yes, water would be nice," she told the floorboards. "It is warm today."

Warm, indeed. She skimmed a glance up to his chest. He had to be over six feet.

"Okay. There's no water cooler here, but I'll get some from the cafeteria. Wait in there." He jerked a thumb to his left, then strode off down the passage, leaving Miri to find her own way.

She knew the room. Only a month ago, she had walked the entire building with a contractor to estimate renovation costs. Fortunately, the building's beautiful 1920's façade and most of the original fixtures were intact and the wooden floor hadn't been ripped up, so the style could be preserved. The place was perfect and in the next few minutes, it would be hers.

Moving to the casement window overlooking the parking lot, she watched a white pickup leave. Apart from her Volkswagen and a black BMW that presumably belonged to Nick Brannagh, the place appeared deserted. The parking area was far too big for her needs but by converting half into lawn and garden, it could be made nice. Perhaps an outdoor seating area with a pretty cobblestone path leading to the front steps...

"Here you are, Ms. Jamieson."

The deep rumble behind her had Miri spinning so fast, she almost tipped off a heel.

"Careful. Old wooden floors aren't made for shoes like those."

"Oh, right. Thank you." He sounded friendlier now, so Miri broke her new rule and looked up to his face. He was good-looking in a hard-cut way. Thirtyish and definitely not the preening gym-junky type. That body could only come from the necessity of heavy physical work. Dark hair in a buzz cut and striking gray eyes under a straight brow, or at least it was probably straight when it wasn't frowning. A man used to being in control.

He placed her glass of water on the desk and gestured to a chair. "Take that one. The other needs fixing."

"I really appreciate you sparing me the time," Miri said, dropping her shoulder bag on the floor. Sinking gratefully onto the chair, she took a moment to put her thoughts in order, although the way her heart was thumping, a hundred moments would come up short. It didn't help that her clothes now felt all wrong. Jeans, casual shirt, and heat-alleviating ponytail would have been far more comfortable and more honest. Still, she was fully invested in this meeting so it was time to get down to business. She knew what she wanted. She wanted this building.

Miri swallowed her nerves, crossed a leg and waited. It took her several seconds to realize that he hadn't moved, and endless more for her brain to register the reason. Her new black pencil skirt with the off-center slit had decided this was the moment to live up to its sexy promise.

It's just leg, Miri reasoned, staring helplessly at the expanse of thigh on display. It was more than she'd planned on showing, but so what? Yet even as the words formed in her brain, Miri couldn't get past the obvious. He would think this was all a deliberate distraction to tempt him to sell. She might as well as have Magic Markered the fact up her leg.

She was about to stand and close the slit when he strode around the desk, sat down and looked her hard in the eyes.

Annie didn't bother standing.

"I'm a busy man, Ms. Jamieson. What can I do for you?"

Find her a cliff, she was dying from embarrassment anyway. "Please call me Miri." She groaned inwardly at her fresh stupidity. He wasn't interested in her name! His eyes were exploring her leg again.

He looked up and rested his forearms on the desk. Miri's gaze, which she seemed to have lost all control over, along with her common sense, began to inspect every inch of them, right down to his hands. Hands were her favorite drawing subject. Shape, size, skin texture. Nick Brannagh's were large, strong and work-roughened. She shivered at the thought of experiencing those hands.

Dragging her eyes back to his face, she realized with a sick thud that he was waiting for her to pay attention.

"You said you had an offer," he said brusquely. "What is it?"

Miri cleared her throat twice while she rummaged her brain for the right words. She was completely off track, and going by his condescending expression, he knew it. "Um, you see...I put in a bid for this building and...well, I found out yesterday that you were the successful bidder and now own the property." Miri swung a glance around the room as if it might add support.

"That's right."

"I know coming here is irregular but I had hoped to buy the mill for my art."

A flicker of surprise passed across his face. "You're an artist?"

"Yes, a sculptor and I've been looking for somewhere to open a studio and gallery. This building is perfect."

Silence.

"Seriously," she continued, forcing a confidence that was rapidly fading under his penetrating stare, "I really would like to buy the mill..." She paused, thinking of how much to tell him. Obviously he wasn't the sympathetic type, but still. "You see, I really need the mill as there's nowhere else in Charmford that's suitable. I expected my bid to be the highest, as it was fifty thousand over the market valuation. But...you...I mean, Brannagh Enterprises won the sealed bid. The thing is, I can pay you twenty thousand more than what you paid."

He frowned at that, so Miri worked her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed for comfort. One of her habits that had always driven her mother crazy.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. "You understand that I bought the mill to make a profit," he said, recapturing her gaze. "The demolition plus the salvage and sale of the land will make a lot more than your offer."

She unsnagged her lip. "I know I'm asking a lot, but under the circumstances, can't you sell to me?"

"There are no circumstances. This is a straightforward business decision."

His tone held a finality that should have been warning enough, but Miri had never been any good with warnings. "What if I offered you thirty thousand?"

He shook his head a fraction, his eyes steady on hers. "I'm afraid not."

Miri tried not to let her rising panic show. "Can we not come to an agreement over this? Forty thousand dollars? That's more than generous."

"The building is fixed for demolition in the next two weeks. Now, I have work to do, so please see yourself out."

Miri's temper came out of nowhere, but then, it always did. The man was worse than arrogant. He was boorish. Staring at her leg. Dismissing her like a kid. "Do you get some sort of satisfaction in pulling down beautiful old buildings, you—you sexist pig?!"

She was on her feet, hiking her bag over her shoulder, when he stood and started walking toward her, his expression granite. Oh, God, surely he wouldn't physically throw her out of the place? That would be assault. Except, his face said he was about to do just that—pick up her little five-feet, three-inch self and toss her outside.

He halted two feet from her, and Miri actually sighed in relief. Uncomfortably close, but at least she was still on her feet and he hadn't put a hand on her. She stared at his T-shirt, caught in the moment of watching his chest rising and falling as he drew a slow breath.

His rough voice jerked her head up. "That's some temper you've got."

Miri bravely stood her ground under his lethal stare. "You're just being stubborn for the sake of it. If you're going to pull the place down anyway, why can't you sell? There must be something I can offer you. What if I...?" Her words fell away as he angled his head to look at her leg, still on display through the slit.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to pass."

Miri felt her mouth flop open in astonishment. "Actually, I was going to suggest we meet with my lawyer about increasing the offer, but it doesn't matter now. I should thank you for listening to me, but it wasn't a pleasure so I won't, you obnoxious ass!"

"Ass?" he said, shaking his head. "Such a bad word coming from such a pretty mouth."

That he was mocking her didn't make him seem any less dangerous. She backed away, tensing as he took a step forward. He was going to throw her out for sure. Miri took another step, praying she wasn't about to end up against the wall. This time he didn't move, giving her hope for a safe escape.

He ran a hand across his head, his expression almost rueful. "Look, bidding for property is tough, but I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."

"I damn well don't need your advice," she fired back, feeling a small prick of satisfaction when he flinched.

"Fair enough," he said, shrugging a big shoulder. "Well, as I said, I have work to do."

He extended a hand. A handshake was the last thing she expected...or wanted. Her body might be curious to know what that big, rough paw felt like, but to hell with her body.

"Don't let me hold you up," she snapped, pointedly ignoring the gesture. "Pulling down historic buildings must keep you busy."

This time he didn't flinch. Instead, he looked at her thoughtfully. "We don't always get what we want in life, Miri," he said quietly. "Sometimes it takes more than a sexy outfit and a show of leg."

Miri felt her cheeks burn like a pair of hot coals. She wasn't going to need that cliff. She was about to die of humiliation right here on Nick Brannagh's floor.

Desperate to escape him and her wretchedness, Miri started for the door, way too fast for skyscrapers, but beyond caring. She was almost there, almost safe, when the heel of her right shoe flexed against a loose floorboard and snapped.

In two strides, he caught her, turning her so she was pulled flush to his chest. "Are you okay?" he said into her hair.

Too mortified to speak, Miri could only nod into his T-shirt, totally distracted by the woody, masculine scent of him and his powerful arms holding her. They felt like steel.

"Are you sure?" he repeated, easing her back to look down at her with a smile.

"I'm fine," she mumbled. "I have to go."

His arms slowly released her. "You'd better take it easy in those shoes or I'll have to carry you to your car."

"Not necessary," Miri growled through clenched teeth. She tested the broken heel and when it held, took a tentative step. She should have known her escape wouldn't go smoothly. After all, her degradation wasn't complete. She almost sobbed when she felt her ankle buckle on the heel, and she made a wild grab for him.

"Steady," he said, his hand sliding around her waist. "I think you need to sit down for a minute."

Of course, she didn't need to sit down. She needed to die. Pushing from his hold, she wriggled her foot from the broken pump and kicked it aside. A glance down told her it was beyond repair. Pulling her other foot free, she started for the door, fighting the urge to run.

The voice behind her rumbled without mercy. "Don't you want your shoes, Miri?"

"No," she whispered savagely.

Sucking a lungful of air to quell her curses, she started the bare-footed and thoroughly undignified walk to her car. The longest walk of her young life. Sinking into the driver's seat, she sat behind the wheel, trying to stem her self-disgust and every hormone raging in her body. "Omigod, omigod," she chanted under her breath, finally braving a look at the mill's entrance.

He was on the steps, watching her. Why wouldn't he be? She was entertainment, after all.

And then her car wouldn't start.

Desperately, she turned the engine over and over, flooding the thing. If Nick Brannagh comes out to help, it truly will be the end. He'll find a red-faced corpse behind the wheel.

"Start, you shitty heap of junk!"

Her vicious order must have done something to the Beetle's conscience for at the sixth turn of the key, the car powered into life.

Miri drove away, ordering herself not to look in the rearview mirror. She looked anyway.

He was grinning.
CHAPTER TWO

"Fecking eejit!"

Jesus, what was up Fitz's ass today? He'd been Irish-cursing all morning over the smallest thing. Except this time it didn't sound small.

Nick dragged his work-booted feet off the desk and went to investigate, although he had a fair idea what had happened. The sound of breaking glass, followed by one of Fitz's explosive curses, pretty much said it all.

Nick looked at Fitz's feet planted in the middle of what would have been a high-quality light fixture twenty seconds ago. "So who's the idiot?"

That earned him a scowl. "Fecking thing fell out my hands." Fitz waved a fat hand in the direction of the ceiling hatch above the passage. "Must've been up there for years." He glared at Nick from under a hedge of eyebrow. "Are you laughing?"

"Not me." Nick hid his grin by squatting down and poking at the heavy brass fitting covered in broken glass. "Looks twenties art deco. Good quality. Maybe two grand at auction. Any more up there?"

"Yeah, about a dozen of the things." Fitz kicked a shard of glass. "I'll get the scaffolders to help with the rest."

Nick decided to step in before the scaffolders found themselves on the receiving end of Fitz's bad mood. They were outright scared of the guy, even on one of his good days. "Don't bother them," he said over his shoulder as he made a U-turn to his office. "Give me a couple of minutes, and I'll help."

Fitz followed him in and slumped into a chair. "Hell, maybe I'm getting too soft for this work."

Nick flicked an eye over his site manager's paunch. True, Fitz was past sixty and carried an impressive spare tire. But soft? Hardly. Few men would be game enough to find out with a guy who weighed two hundred and thirty pounds and had boxed his way to an Irish heavyweight title back in the seventies.

"Less Guinness might help," Nick suggested, grinning at the deepening scowl across from him. Fitz had introduced Nick to the black stuff seven years ago. He'd been a green, cocky, over-ambitious twenty-three-year-old just starting out, when Fitz had come looking for a job, and despite the age gap and frequent arguments over their favorite drink, they'd achieved a solid friendship.

Tipping back his chair, Nick slapped his boots back on the desk. "Anyway, what's the job looking like so far?"

Fitz's scowl melted to a broad grin. "Nothing a wrecking ball can't deal to in a few hours." He folded thick arms over a barrel chest. "Jesus, I love these small jobs. Easy work. Big profits. No complications."

Except for the one that turned up yesterday, Nick thought with a sigh. She'd been a regular visitor in his head all morning, and it was starting to annoy the hell out of him. Like a persistent itch just out of reach.

Swinging his feet to the floor, he checked the spreadsheet on his laptop. "It's looking like a profit of three hundred thousand, including the sale of the cleared land and the building façade. The best small job for the month."

Fitz grunted and scratched between two buttons straining to stay fastened. "Yeah, lucky I spotted the sale?"

"How long to do the demolition and salvage? Still four weeks?"

"Make that five weeks with a small crew. They'll start at the end of next week. We'll use our own equipment. Packing the bricks for the seller will take a few days. They want delivery to their New York warehouse, so good for us. Only a two-hour drive down the coast."

Nick updated the figures. "Good. I'll be sticking around until the end of the week at least, maybe longer. I've had the Blaze transported up here."

He was looking forward to some serious sailing time—the first opportunity in months to get out on the ketch. He couldn't really afford the time, especially with the Spanway Bridge demolition contract to be signed off, but his London team could handle the fine print.

Fitz grinned. "When ya gonna buy one of those superyachts, Nick?"

"Don't you start. Cate keeps pestering me, but only so she can use it to entertain her socialite friends."

No damned way was he ever going to buy a superyacht. They weren't for sailing. No, he'd stick to his basic forty-footer, and his sister would have to socialize on dry land.

Fitz grunted in amusement. "By the way, who was it arrived late yesterday?"

Nick raised a brow. "You saw her?"

"Saw you talking to her in the parking lot as I was packing up. Hard to miss."

Hard to miss, all right. Damn, it was strange that he couldn't stop thinking about her. Talk about a sight for sore eyes, decked out in that dress-to-impress getup. He'd been impressed all right, but not by Ms. Business Attire's outfit. It had been the pale, delicate features, waist-length tumble of chocolate curls, and brown eyes that had spiked his interest. A genuinely beautiful woman with a soft innocence behind all that temper. She'd been so far out of her comfort zone, he'd half expected her to bolt without saying a word. Except in those heels and on that broken-down asphalt, she wouldn't have made it very far. As much as he loved heels, he'd seriously worried about the safety of those killer legs.

"What did she have to say?"

Say? Then there was her mouth. All plump and rosy-soft, with smiles and pouts. The kind of mouth that was grabbing his interest all over again.

"So what did she want, Nick?" pressed Fitz with a chuckle.

Dammit, what did she want? Oh, yeah. "She's an artist. Made an offer on the mill. Wants to open a gallery or something."

He fell back to his thoughts. No way would he have picked her for an artist in that outfit, but what the hell did he know about artists? If teasing her had gone down badly, catching her when she fell had sealed it. He'd been hard on her—too hard probably, but she'd riled him with her insults. Anyway, she'd held her own. Jesus, she'd been mad. He'd half expected her to pick up that broken stiletto and stab him. Even with that temper, he'd enjoy going another round with Ms. Jamieson. And she'd felt as good as she looked. Small and slender, with just the right amount of curves to fill that outfit to perfection. A pity she'd fled like some skittish Cinderella. He glanced at the shoes in the corner, picturing them on the end of her slim legs. Yeah, a real pity.

"So what did you tell her?"

Nick wrenched his thoughts back to Fitz's question, suddenly conscious of the increased blood flow to his groin. It might have been a few weeks, but even so. "I told her no. It didn't go down well. Anyway, what about the machinery?"

Fitz grinned. "As I said, we'll bring our own equipment. You're not listening. Something on your mind?"

Nick leaned forward, trying to ignore the equipment in his pants. "Sorry. Just thinking about sailing."

Fitz gave him a 'whatever' look. "Okey, dokey. By the way, I've found an Irish pub in town. You wanna go tonight? The lads aren't interested. I think they're scared of me."

Nick grinned. "Can't imagine why. Not tonight, thanks Fitz. I'll be at Charmford's one and only boxing gym, then back to the hotel." He didn't need Guinness. He needed to work off some pressure.

Maybe he'd call her. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd go sailing and forget about Ms. Business Attire.

"Righto, Boss?" Fitz was saying, returning Nick's thoughts to more practical matters. "You ready to spend a couple of hours crawling around the ceiling?"

"I'll see you up there. I just need a minute."

Feck it.

• • •

"Will the Egg Beater be finished on time?"

As if Miri needed her roommate's question when she'd wasted her entire day brooding instead of working. She sighed and set down her enameling brush, which had been idle in her hand for the past hour. Four months' work on her twelve-foot sculpture was now down to a three-day deadline, and at least fifteen hours of enameling work lay ahead to complete the final section. "The way I'm going, it won't be finished by Christmas."

Bree tossed her rucksack on the floor and flopped down on the sofa by the workbench. "You'll finish. You always do. It looks great, by the way."

Miri looked at the gleaming metal sections spread across the studio floor, ready for assembly. Her most difficult work to date, and definitely her most satisfying. A series of large concentric circles, constructed in stainless steel and decorated with enameled copper lattice. Sculpture Quarterly had asked to feature one of her works in its next issue, so maybe this would be the one. The Quarterly's editor had described her work as highly original, thoughtful, and technically brilliant. He'd probably add off-the-wall when he saw this piece. Bree was right. It did look like a giant egg beater but Marcus had asked for something unconventional for display in his new medical center, and he'd certainly get it with this piece.

"Well, so long as Marcus likes it, that's all that matters," Miri said. "Anyway, why are you home? Weren't you doing a wedding rehearsal until six?"

Bree laid herself along the sofa and bit into a chocolate bar. "Finished early. Not one argument between the in-laws, and not a squeak out of the bridezilla. Can you believe it?!"

"Not with you winding them up. I still don't know why you do so much wedding photography. You being the woman who's vowed never to marry and hates the whole bridal thing."

Bree chuckled and took another bite. "There's nothing like a bridezilla challenge and grateful in-laws. By the way, I've ordered Chinese."

Miri looked at her best friend in her track pants and tee. Rubenesque was the artistic term for Bree's shape. Her curves, riot of blonde curls and emerald green eyes attracted men like bees to a honeypot.

"You will come to the unveiling on Tuesday, won't you?" Miri asked anxiously. "You know how I hate these things."

The last of the chocolate bar found Bree's mouth. "Heck, yeah. All those arty types and the Mayor. Does the Egg Beater have a proper name yet?"

"Uh-huh. The Circle of Life. Marcus wanted the spirals to symbolize that however much we change through our lives, our core values remain constant."

Bree's large bosom shook as she blew a raspberry. "Jeez, that's deep. He wants to get into your pants anyway, so he won't care what it's called."

"Pardon me, the doctor is very discerning. And forget the pants thing. He's just friendly."

"Friendly! Is that what it is? Dr. Friendly Pants keeps asking you out for dinner. Why don't you oblige the poor guy?"

"I've had lunch with him," Miri countered indignantly. "Anyway, he's a client...and not really my type."

"Aw, let's face it, sweetie, you don't have a type. When did you last go out or get laid? Why not Dr. Carter? He'll give you a good physical."

Miri sighed as Bree pumped her hips suggestively. "You're so crude, Bree Matson."

Crude or not, Bree was right. Miri didn't go out much, and as for getting laid? Actually, never. But then, trips to the market, the gym and Body Beautiful for pedicures and waxes didn't exactly open a path to romance. Of course, she did go out for coffee, but that was just maintenance.

Maybe if she had a good physical, as Bree put it, she might have stopped her under-used sex hormones going into hyper-drive in Nick Brannagh's office. She'd drooled over every inch of him, and he'd known it.

Yet it was the loss of the mill that hurt more than her humiliation. Her dream was gone. Since the death of her parents, it had taken every ounce of strength to get this far. Now, three months past her twenty-fourth birthday, she was finally ready to invest some of her inheritance. Her two New York exhibitions had been so successful, she could hardly keep up with the lucrative commissions now rolling in.

From the day the mill went up for sale, she'd started planning her future. Where the studio would be situated. The exhibition space. The combined art supplies and bookstore and small café. The smart website with an image of the mill displayed on the home page with links to information about upcoming exhibitions, an online shop, and art blog.

Looking around the converted sunroom at the back of her parents' house, she wondered how much more welding equipment, pots, paints, materials, and books could be crammed in without having to knock the walls down. As it was, the sunroom had been strengthened and fireproofed, and the roof raised. The only pretty feature left was the French doors that opened to the terrace and cottage garden.

The front door chimed.

"That'll be the takeout," yelled Bree over her shoulder as she disappeared into the passage.

Miri went through to the adjoining kitchen to turn on the coffee machine and find wine and glasses. Not doing anything all day could still work up an appetite.

Her parents had purchased the two-story Cape Cod house overlooking Charmford Harbor within weeks of the family's arrival from the United Kingdom eight years ago. Apart from her studio, Miri's favorite part of the house was the warm, welcoming kitchen, originally designed to flow through to the sunroom for year-round dining. She hadn't changed a single feature, even though it needed some redecorating after eight years. The expansive wooden countertops, huge oak kitchen table, country-style cabinets, and bay window seat with its faded chintz cushions were so integral to the house, Miri couldn't imagine it any other way.

Bree set out the packets of Chinese and poured the wine while Miri found chopsticks and paper napkins.

They sat down to eat.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but I ran into Zoe today, a bridesmaid at one of last year's horror weddings. Anyway, she works at the Endeavour Hotel."

Miri scowled at her noodles. "You're right, I don't want to talk about it."

"Anyway," Bree breezed on, "Nick Brannagh and his foreman or whatever they call those construction guys are staying there. She said he's gorgeous. Nick, that is, not the foreman."

Miri looked up to find Bree's eyes fixed on hers like a set of crosshairs. "What? What do you want me to say? I already told you he was youngish and quite good-looking."

"Quite good-looking! Zoe says he's one big sex-on-a-stick. No wonder you came home with a face like a beet. What's he really like?"

"Just as I said."

"Oh, pleeease tell me about him. How old is he?"

Miri sighed and set her chopsticks down. "Perhaps thirty. Why do you want to know, anyway?"

"Because you're hiding something. How tall?"

Miri's mind flooded with the memory of his chest at eye level. "Actually, he's very tall. Maybe six one or two. Dark hair in one of those buzz cuts. Dark gray eyes. And he's got the most gorgeous..." Miri stopped dead as Bree's eyes rounded. "That's all I can remember," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks turn pink.

"Gorgeous what?"

She was so screwed. "Nothing. You want more wine?"

"Marisa Jamieson, you wolfette. You were about to say ass, weren't you? He's got the most gorgeous ass!" Bree waved a chopstick in the air and hooted gleefully, "you know what this means? You've had a hottie attack! About frigging time."

"It means no such thing! Okay, he's good-looking in a sexy-rough kind of way, but that's all he's got going. He's a total pig. Actually, he caught me staring at it."

"What, not his...?"

"No! His butt."

Bree looked disappointed. "Oh, is that all? Hell, girl, that's what they're made for. What else?"

Miri sighed and leaned back in her chair, wondering if the adage 'a problem shared is a problem halved' applied to a humiliation. "It was just so embarrassing when..."

Bree's face shone with expectation. "When what?"

Miri giggled despite the horrible memory. "My skirt fell open when I sat down, and he stared at my leg. Like, really stared. But that wasn't the worst part. You know I broke a heel?"

"Uh-huh."

Miri lowered her voice, feeling as if she were confiding some terrible but delicious secret. "As it broke, I tripped and fell into his arms. No, not quite true. He caught me."

Bree fanned her face with a hand. "You, in a man's arms! Holy shit! I bet you wanted to do him on his desk?"

"I did not!" Miri got up and grabbed the bottle of wine, feeling the need for more alcohol. Bree's words were uncomfortably close to the truth. It came as a relief when the phone rang. Balancing the handset between cheek and shoulder, she poured the wine and mumbled a hello at the mouthpiece.

"Is this Miri Jamieson?"

Miri snapped to attention so fast the phone fell in the sink and Bree snorted a loud laugh. With a fierce shush at Bree, she picked up the handset and said coolly, "yes, it is."

"Nick Brannagh speaking."

"Oh, it's you."

If he noticed her icy tone, he didn't seem to care. "I'm calling to invite you to lunch tomorrow."

Miri hovered a finger over the end-call button, thinking how good it would be to cut him off. Better still, wait until he was mid-sentence and then cut him off. "I have a full calendar..." she paused to throw an empty noodle carton at the giggling Bree, "tomorrow afternoon so it's not..."

"What about we meet for coffee instead, say, eleven-thirty?" he cut in smoothly. "You choose the place."

Miri was furious, mostly with herself. She really, really didn't want to see him again, but his rich resonant voice had heated every nook and cranny in her body and she couldn't think straight. "Well, I guess the Round Bean Café in the town center would be okay." She tried to organize her brain into a logical train of thought. "Exactly what is this about?" she asked, realizing too late this should have been her first question.

"Right, I'll meet you there."

He hung up before she could ask him again.

"Full calendar, my ass! Have you got a date with Mr. Sex-on-a-stick?"

Miri was numb with anxiety. "It's not a date," she mumbled, gnawing her lip. "Maybe he's changed his mind about the mill. Otherwise, why would he call?"

"Sweetie, he wants to take you out," Bree said with a laugh. "You are allowed to mix business with pleasure, you know."

Miri took an extra large slurp of wine, positive that mixing anything with that man would be a disaster. "Not in this case. It will be strictly business. How did he get my number?"

"You're in the book, remember?"

"Oh, right." Miri sat down at the table and thought about what to do. The man was seriously under her skin, and she didn't want him there. Spreading her hands flat on the table, she began to yoga-breathe, as if that might help. "Just keep telling yourself you don't like him and it will be all right," she intoned under her breath, trying to ignore Bree's noisy noodle slurps.

Closing her eyes, she visualized the meeting tomorrow, then opened them again in a flash. If he'd changed his mind about selling the mill to her, the whole thing should be handled through her lawyer. Maybe she should call him back and explain? He'd be at the Endeavour, so that was easy enough.

Bree interrupted her thoughts. "You want more noodles?"

Miri shook her head and thought some more. If she canceled she might not get another opportunity and what harm could meeting him do?

Miri put a mug under the coffee machine spout, staring at the trickle of dark liquid while she thought some more. Yes, she would meet Nick Brannagh and this time she would be ready for him. "I'll be in the studio working," she told Bree after pouring the coffees. "You okay to tidy up?"

Not waiting for an answer, she took her coffee through to the studio. At least four hours catch-up work lay ahead this evening, and she wasn't in the mood. All in all, not her best day.

Still, if tomorrow was a disaster, she could always stick her head in the kiln.
CHAPTER THREE

Miri had only just parked her car when she decided to be late by twenty minutes. Just long enough for the jerk to wonder if he'd been stood up or, at least, that was the plan.

Standing in the doorway of Dina's Designer Boutique, she peered along the street toward the Round Bean and saw him getting out of his BMW, opposite the café. He hadn't seen her. Darting inside, she sneaked a look through the window to check where he was. He must have gone into the café, looking for her.

Of course she was acting like a teenager. The man was practically a stranger and she intended to keep it that way, so that made it doubly silly. Even so, it made her feel a whole lot better about meeting him and besides, it was no hardship to browse Dina's new-season collection for twenty minutes.

"Have you tried out your new skirt, Miri?" Dina inquired from behind the counter.

Miri only just held back a slightly hysterical laugh as she flicked through a rack of summer tops. "Yes, but only once, Dina."

"I bet it wowed everyone. It looked sensational on you."

Miri groaned at the memory. At least today's sleeveless green silk top, skinny jeans and linen wedges were safe for a meeting with the jerk.

She checked her watch. Ten minutes to go. A long time to be standing around, and Dina was watching her with a puzzled expression. Miri abandoned her strategy and made for the door.

When she stepped out into the sunshine, she saw him in front of the café, rocking on his heels and looking for all the world as if he couldn't have cared less what time she turned up. Miri considered diving back into Dina's for another five minutes, but he'd spotted her and smiled, so she had no choice but to start walking toward him. How, she wondered at every step, could the man be so scary two days ago and today look so friendly?

"Good to see you again, Miri," he said, extending a hand. His big grip felt as good as it promised—warm and strong and totally equipped for catching a woman when she fell over her shoes.

"I saw you go into that store down the street. Some retail therapy?"

Drat. Caught out. "Yes, kind of," Miri answered vaguely, trying not to notice how perfectly his jeans sat on his slim hips or how his black polo shirt hugged his broad shoulders. "Actually, I rarely have the time to shop."

"In that case, we'd better go in so I'm not wasting your valuable time," he said, his gray eyes twinkling.

"I can only spare a few minutes," Miri answered crisply, knowing he was laughing at her. Oh, well, so be it. Keep it formal, focus on the outcome.

When he opened the café door for her, Miri told herself she didn't like or need his gentlemanly behavior. He'd been anything but gentlemanly at their first meeting, and she wasn't about to give him a pass on that. Yet she couldn't deny it felt good to be escorted to her seat, and his choice of booth was perfect. Well away from the kitchen and welcomingly close to the air conditioning.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, waiting for her to sit before sliding into the seat opposite.

"No. Iced coffee will be fine." Looking around, Miri took a few moments to absorb the familiar surroundings of her favorite café. This was her territory. She was in control of the situation and, once he heard her renewed offer, he would accept and she could go home.

Not so difficult.

"Iced coffee it is." Nick signaled a waitress, who arrived in turbo-time, blonde ponytail swinging. She stared at Nick with what Miri judged to be outright lust. Miri knew the feeling. She knew the waitress. Tiffany. Eyes normally dulled by boredom were set to high beam. Except Nick seemed indifferent to Tiffany as he made the order for an iced coffee and espresso. Tiffany wrote on her pad, slid a suggestive look at Nick, then retreated in defeat when he barely acknowledged her.

"Is this your usual hangout?" he asked, his eyes fixed attentively on hers.

"Yes. The coffee's always good. Do you have a favorite place?" She was doing her best to sound aloof, but already she realized the futility of holding out under those intense gray eyes.

"No time for regular places as I'm traveling most of the time. Fitz fancies himself a barista, but his coffee's pretty bad."

"Fitz?"

"Pete Fitzroy, my site manager in the States. Irishman. We've been together since startup. He's a good friend, so we tolerate his coffee. I'll tell him about this place."

Presumably that was the driver of the pickup she'd seen in the parking lot. "You must enjoy your work to travel so much."

"It's okay most of the time. Sometimes it's good to take a break."

"Are you enjoying Charmford?"

His eyes grazed her. "It's beautiful."

Miri felt the compliment. "And do you have a home somewhere?"

"Yeah, I have apartments in New York and in London, both more or less homes. At the moment, I'm mostly in the U.K., but being a New Yorker, I'd rather be there."

"That sounds interesting." She mentally cringed. She was being bland and boring and, worse, not directing the conversation to where it should be. "Then why come to Charmford?"

"Various reasons," he said as if he'd read her mind and decided to deflect. "And you? You have British in your accent."

"Oh, I've been here since I was sixteen. Before that, we lived in London. Now it's just me. Anyway, I want to ask you about the..." Her phone buzzed. "A text. Do you mind?"

"Go ahead."

It was Janice Patterson from the Arts Committee, confirming her twelve-thirty appointment. It didn't need a response, but Miri sent a long text all the same. Hopefully Nick would assume she had pressing business. As she hit send, she looked to see where the waitress was. The coffee was taking forever and Nick was lazily watching her. Not rudely, like he had at the mill, but enough to work a prickle of self-consciousness and a few other sensations down her spine.

Putting her phone back in her bag, Miri said casually, "that was Janice from the Arts Committee. I have to leave shortly."

"No problem," he said, leaning back to fold his arms. It was all Miri could do not to gape at his biceps stretching the short sleeves of his polo shirt. Was there no part of the man not worth staring at? No doubt dozens of women could confirm there wasn't.

"So, Miri, yesterday you mentioned you're a sculptor?"

"Oh—oh, yes," she answered, struggling to focus. "For as long as I can remember, I've been making things."

He cocked his head inquiringly. "Really. What kind of things do you make?"

"I make large sculptures, anywhere from six to eighteen feet." Of course, she could have omitted that detail, but half the fun lay in the usual astonished reaction.

He sat up, making Miri laugh. "Jesus, tell me more. What materials do you use?"

Miri told herself it was the art-talk causing the rush of warmth to her cheeks and not his gorgeous eyes, which were looking at her with deep interest. "Well, mostly I work in copper and steel, although sometimes I use brass," she explained, suddenly enjoying herself. She loved talking about art like other people loved their morning coffee, or whatever else got their day started. "A local metalwork company helps me with the cutting and welding of the basic frame. My sculptures represent various aspects of the human condition. One series I exhibited in New York was on the seven deadly sins."

"Deadly sins, huh." He stroked his chin stubble as if the topic required serious thought. "So, which sin fascinates you the most?" he asked, just as Tiffany arrived with the coffees. She looked at Nick as if ready to commit sin with him right there on the table.

"Oops, she wondered what you were talking about." Miri laughed, after Tiffany had returned to her station.

He grinned. "You started it."

Miri matched his smile. "So, I did."

"Do you know, Ms. Jamieson" he said, looking at her warmly, "that your dimples are a smile barometer. The wider the smile, the deeper the dimples."

"Oh, I've never liked them much. Got teased at school."

Nick laughed. She liked his deep, rich laugh. He tasted his espresso. "You're right. Good coffee. Anyway, where's your studio?"

Miri leapt in. "At my home, but space is a problem so that's why I need the mill."

"I see," he said.

Miri ignored the edge that had crept into his tone. "So, I'm prepared to increase my offer." She paused to take a breath, then charged on when he opened his mouth to speak. "To fifty thousand over..." Miri stopped, stung to a helpless silence by the subtle change in his expression. She chewed her lip, knowing what was coming.

"It's not that simple," he said, his expression losing some of its former warmth. "The profit from the salvage alone will be very high, let alone the land value. I explained that to you. There are legal considerations as well."

"I need that building," Annie said desperately, "and it's a fair offer."

He looked annoyed now. "This is a straightforward business matter. Is that so hard for you to understand?"

The patronizing jerk. "To hell with your business matter! The only reason I'm here is because I thought you'd changed your mind." She wriggled out of the booth and pushed to her feet, furious with herself for being so stupid in accepting his invitation. "I'll pay for my coffee on the way out."

Without looking up, Nick said quietly, "Miri, please sit down."

"Why?"

"Because we haven't finished our coffee."

She sat down, wondering what was wrong with her. How could being told what to do be so impossibly sexy?

"Look, I called you because I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Can we start again?"

"I don't see what that would achieve," she snapped.

"Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

She blinked. "Dinner?"

His mouth quirked. "Yeah, dinner."

"I'm far too busy," she said, defaulting to her standard excuse, "and we have nothing to talk about."

"Hey, I know you're disappointed about the mill, but I'd still like take you out. To find out more about your art." He eased forward, and Miri saw a flicker of devilry in his eyes. "It's just dinner."

Miri found herself caught in a strange mixture of fear and excitement. On the one hand, she was just plain scared of him but on the other hand, the Charmford Mill was about to be demolished, and there was always the possibility she could change his mind.

Miri sat herself straight. "All right, but on one condition."

Nick's brow elevated a degree. "And that is?"

"That we discuss why the mill should be saved. It is part of Charmford's history, you know."

He leaned back and rested his arm along the top of the bench seat while watching her thoughtfully. Miri was doing her own watching or, more accurately, she was ogling again. She desperately wanted to crawl over the table and lick that arm.

As if to signal the show was over, Nick returned his arm to the table and looked at her with a deep frown. "You understand this is new for me," he said gravely. "Bargaining for a dinner date."

Miri turned her own expression to serious, half hoping he would turn her down so she could escape him. He was far too much for her. "Take it or leave it," she said, surprised at her own coolness.

"It's a deal." He grinned so wide, Miri found herself staring at his lovely white teeth. "Anywhere special you'd like to go?"

"You choose the place," she said. "I am rather busy and normally don't have time for restaurants." That was true enough. She hadn't been out for dinner in months.

"Right, I'll pick you up at eight. We can put misunderstandings aside and get down to talking business."

She wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she hoped he meant the mill. "I'd better go, as the Committee will be waiting," she said, standing. "Thank you for the coffee."

"You're welcome." He got to his feet, gesturing to Tiffany, who crossed the café as if on skates. Poor Tiffany. All that effort, and not a shred of interest from Nick to show for it, except a ten-dollar tip and a nod of thanks.

Miri walked outside ahead of him, wickedly wishing she was behind him so she could stare at his ass again. So perfect it should be insured. Except, on second thought, it was probably a good thing. The rest of him was more than enough for one day.

Standing beside him on the pavement, Miri felt very small and more than a little overwhelmed. Her plan was all shot to hell, and worse, she was committed to dinner with a man who had ruined her dream. As if he realized it, he engulfed her hand in a warm, enthusiastic handshake. "It really is nice to see you again." When he gave her a shamelessly sexy grin, Miri inwardly groaned. "And I'll catch you tomorrow, Ms. Jamieson."

Miri had no smart answer to that, so she started walking toward to car, parked outside Dinah's. With every step she wanted to turn to see if he was watching her. For some confusing reason, she hoped he was.

• • •

She wasn't his type. She didn't even come close.

Nick liked his women experienced, uncomplicated and short-term. The kind who said 'see you round, Nick' on their way out. He was no knight in shining armor and he'd never pretended otherwise. With his travel schedule and long hours, he had neither the time, nor the inclination for anything close to involvement. He'd built his company from nothing and was nowhere near ready to step away from the operational side. A woman in his life wasn't on his radar, not in the foreseeable future anyway.

Miri Jamieson broke every rule in his book. He'd known from the moment she'd sat down in his makeshift office at the mill, she wasn't the casual type. Yet here he was, making a date with a woman who'd expect a man's commitment before any sack time. If that wasn't problem enough, his company was about to tear down the one thing she apparently wanted more than anything else in the world. Damn, if he wasn't being an idiot. Everything about her screamed complication but hell, he was so sorely interested in her, he had to keep going.

It made no sense at all. He rarely pursued any woman, preferring they make the first move. It avoided expectations beyond the bedroom. Now, for the first time in his life, he was interested in a particular woman, and more surprisingly, he wanted to know her. What was her background? What did she do when she wasn't making her eighteen-foot sculptures? Heck, did she have a boyfriend? That seemed unlikely, given all that pent-up, ripe sensuality she had going. Boyfriend or not, she was hot for him, that was obvious. All red-faced and staring at his ass whenever she got the chance.

Nick grabbed a beer from the mini-bar and lay back on his bed, staring at the blank television screen. He had no time for a relationship. Relationship? Where did that come from? He hardly knew her except she was small town and young—probably too young for him. Yet she had an independence and strength way beyond her years. Miri might be delicately made, but she was strong, something learned from necessity, he guessed. Reserved, serious with a simplicity and honesty that he hadn't come across in a long time. She also had a story. For starters, she had money, at least enough to buy an industrial building on prime land. Weren't artists supposed to be struggling? She apparently lived in Charmford by herself, and that in itself was intriguing. Maybe he'd get some answers tomorrow night if she didn't storm out on him again. In the meantime, he needed to park his thoughts, otherwise he'd start fantasizing about her luscious body again.

His cell buzzed just as he turned on the television. Nick felt the familiar pang of guilt when he saw his sister's name on the caller display. Almost a year since he'd visited her in Toronto, and weeks since they'd spoken.

"Hi, Cate, how are you?"

"I'm good."

"Uh-huh," Nick muttered absently, his interest caught by a home run on a Mets game replay.

"My twenty-week scan says everything's fine."

Nick yanked his attention back to his sister. He was pleased for her, even if he didn't make the effort he should.

"Glad to hear that. Does Dad know it's all good? He's been worried."

"Mm-hmm, phoned him this morning. He's thrilled to finally be a grandfather. And Charles is over the moon."

Nick chuckled. He could just picture Cate's fifty-year-old husband breaking out the cigars at the news. "I can imagine. So, you'll be cutting back on work?"

"Well, my OBGYN has said a pregnancy at my age means higher risk so no more than fifteen hours a week, although interior design consulting is hardly strenuous. Anyway, what's happening with you, little brother? Dad said you're in Charmford to do some sailing."

"Yeah, I hope to get out for a few days."

"And anything else?"

"Such as?"

"Someone special?"

Nick thought about the someone special he'd met at the Round Bean this morning. "No, sis, no one special at all."

"You know my friend Angela would love to meet you. She's your age, beautiful, and very smart."

"No, thanks. I do just fine."

His warning tone didn't work, but then, it never did with Cate. It seemed every time they spoke these days, she quizzed him about his love life.

"I know you do fine," she said. "Too fine, that's your trouble. Actually, I'm wondering when you'll be back in New York. I'm flying down to buy fabric."

"I'll be here for the week, maybe next."

"Then what if I drive up and spend a couple of days in Charmford? Would that work?"

"Great." His original plan of spending his week sailing was on hold anyway. One look at temptation incarnate standing in his parking lot had given him other things to dwell on.

"Terrific. I'll call you, but it'll probably be Wednesday."

"Fine, I'm at the Endeavour."

Nick ended the call, opened the fridge for another beer, then closed it again. Ms. Business Attire was back in his head. What he needed was a workout in the ring, followed by a cold shower.
CHAPTER FOUR

"Tell me about Nick Brannagh."

Miri, about to take the first sip of her favorite coffee—a life-threatening triple-shot espresso con panna, set her cup down. She should have known Alex's invitation for coffee at the Charmford Country Club was a setup.

With a sigh of resignation, Miri soldered on her best 'I don't want to talk about it' face, which meant she was pouting. It was wasted on Alexandra Olivet. The woman had, after all, been her mother's lifelong friend and a constant presence in Miri's life, so attempts to deflect unwanted conversations never worked. Alex also had a mind as sharp as a bacon slicer when it came to her two favorite pastimes, business and men, particularly the latter. Alex loved them, and being a wealthy widow, most were more than willing to love her right back.

"There's nothing to tell. I asked him to sell. He wouldn't. End of story."

Miri braced herself as Alex laughed like she'd just been told something absurd. "Bree said you fell into his arms and came home without your shoes. My dear, what were you doing?"

That was it. Best friend or not, she'd strangle Bree. "I broke a heel, that's all. Trust Bree to blabber."

Alex's beautifully modulated mid-Atlantic voice rose in rebuke. "Now, don't blame Bree, my darling. I asked her about it. So tell me what you think of him?"

"Does it matter what I think of him?"

"He's a hunk, so of course it matters. Don't look like that. The whole of Charmford is talking about him. Do you find him attractive?"

Miri sipped her coffee while she constructed a lie. "I didn't notice his looks. He's..." A blush-making memory of being in Nick's arms rose in her mind—so dangerous, considering Alex could spot a man-blush at a hundred feet. "He's of no interest to me," she finished lamely, looking around the Club's restaurant in the hope Alex wouldn't notice her pink cheeks.

Alex tisked. "Oh, Marisa, don't go all British and coy on me. Bree also said you had a date with him for coffee. Tell me everything."

Add defriendment to the strangulation. "It wasn't a date. I asked him to reconsider selling, that's all."

"And did he?"

Miri used the edge of her voice in the vain hope it would put Alex off. "He made it very clear that he wouldn't sell."

"So what did you offer him?"

Miri twisted in her chair, anticipating the unfavorable reaction and helpless to prevent it. "Fifty thousand over what he paid."

Alex chortled without mercy. "Oh, dear, that wouldn't have helped. Fifty would barely cover his costs. Anyway, what made you do all this without talking to me first?"

"There's no need to rub it in. Besides, you'd gone AWOL."

Thankfully, Alex had decided to test her coffee, giving Miri a reprieve. As usual, Alex was turned out like the high-end socialite that she was. Ash-blonde hair swept into an impeccable chignon, tailored sky blue suit that would have cost thousands, and thirty carats from ear to finger. Miri had never seen her any other way. Alex had to be around fifty-two to have been her mother's friend, but she barely looked forty. Miri didn't know Alex's exact age. Probably no one did, except for her surgeon. Age was a taboo subject around Alex, as were the words 'cosmetic procedure.'

"Yes, I'm sorry I wasn't here to help, but something came up." She set her cup down and smiled into the distance as if recalling something pleasant. "As you know, I have business that frequently calls me away for a day or two."

Miri did know. Usually it involved a man and a six-star hotel in New York. "So who was the lucky man this time?" she asked with a laugh, at the same time feeling a little envious. The finest silk sheets, caviar, Dom Perignon, and an attentive lover had to be better than her last two days. "Was he what you expected?"

"Oh, yes, he definitely met expectations," Alex purred, looking for all the world like a Siamese cat on smoked salmon. "Totally insatiable of course, the naughty boy."

Miri wondered how old Alex's naughty boy was. If he was her usual type, anywhere between twenty-five and forty, although Miri suspected Alex went younger when it suited.

Alex sighed and continued. "Anyway, I still had time to make some calls about your situation."

"And?"

"On the personal front, Nicolas James Brannagh has just had his thirtieth birthday and he's not married. I thought you might be interested in knowing that particular detail about your hunk."

Miri hadn't even considered his marital status. It shouldn't matter, of course, but somehow it did. "He's not my...oh, whatever. So what about the sale of the mill?"

"My business analyst, George, obtained the names of the other bidders, and they were happy to talk. They are very concerned that the mill is to be demolished. As you know, you were the second highest bidder. The others were a sports and fitness chain and a New York–based printing company. A local construction company showed interest but didn't put in an offer. Anyway, Brannagh Enterprises normally specializes in big demolition and salvage projects, but sometimes they take on small jobs for the cash flow. The bid was prepared and submitted by a Peter Fitzroy, all done through their New York office."

"Are they likely to make a big profit?"

"George says yes, as there's very little preparation needed for the demolition. The money is in the salvage and sale of the cleared land."

No wonder he'd laughed at her pathetic offer. "That makes sense now."

Alex nodded. "The only unusual thing is that Brannagh's bid was only two thousand above yours, and the others were much lower than that. Anyway, the thing is not to give up hope, my dear. Nick Brannagh might have turned down your offer, but that doesn't mean he won't accept mine if it's the right price."

Miri shifted in her seat. "Alex, I don't think you should do that. He's very...strong minded."

Alex patted a flawlessly manicured hand against her chignon. "Nothing I can't handle. Besides, I do enjoy persuading a hunk."

Miri had to laugh at that. "You're incorrigible! He's nothing like your men. Way too rough around the edges for you."

"Au contraire, rough definitely works for me. Now, moving to something more important. How's the sculpture coming along?"

"It's coming along...just. Installation starts first thing Monday morning."

"Wonderful. Marcus will love it. You know how much he cares for you. He's so disappointed that you didn't get the mill." Her voice dropped to an intimate coo. "As I have pointed out more than once, my darling, Dr. Carter is the most eligible bachelor in Charmford. Such a fine surgeon, just like your father was. Why don't you let him take you to dinner? The man adores you."

"I'm too busy," Miri answered a shade too sharply. Alex knew her better than anyone when it came to her nonexistent love life, and would see right through her excuse. Relationship phobia, Alex called it, and Miri had to admit it was mostly true.

She hadn't always felt this way. Through her teens, she'd dated plenty of boys, but being so focused on her art, it had been no-sex casual, except for her one serious love affair at eighteen. That might have lasted if she hadn't moved to London for two years to attend a top art school.

After the accident, she had tried again but a six week affair with another artist, whom she'd known for years, and who'd been devastated when she'd bailed on him, didn't exactly spell success. So now her life was centered on her art—the one thing that ensured her emotional safety. Dinner invitations were declined with her standard excuse of being too busy, much to the dismay of Alex who considered that nothing short of sacrilege.

Miri shook off her thoughts and looked up to find Alex staring at her like she was a sixteen-year-old caught in a lie. "Marisa, that too busy line isn't going to work forever but of course, I won't interfere." She conceded a small smile when Miri snorted. "Maybe just a little. Your mother was very dear to me, so I feel a responsibility to take care of you."

Miri didn't much appreciate being thought of as a responsibility, but that was Alex. Whatever she might lack in tact, she more than made up for in kindness and sincerity. And she was indefatigable when it came to providing support and advice, regardless of whether it was wanted.

Miri reached across the table and squeezed Alex's hand. "I know. You've been brilliant. But no matchmaking, please."

"Well, I'll try, but no promises. A man is the best stress-buster you know. If not Dr. Carter, what about your hunk? You got quite flushy when I mentioned him. Are you going to see him again?"

So Alex didn't know about the dinner tonight. Miri made a split-second decision to keep it that way. "No, there's no reason to."

"Perhaps there will be after I've talked to him. The town will be most upset to find out the mill is coming down. Some local pressure might change his mind."

"I doubt it. He does this for a living. He won't care."

"Just leave it to me. I'll deal with your brute."

Before Miri could open her mouth to retort, Alex stood. "Don't do anything until you hear from me and remember, keep your chin up. Now I have to rush. Beauty calls."

Miri sighed, resigned to the steamroller that was Alex. "My chin is just fine where it is," she grumbled. "And talking to him won't do any good."

As usual Alex wasn't listening, but then she rarely listened to anything inconvenient.

Miri watched Alex make an elegant path between the tables and disappear through the exit. Beauty frequently called Alex, although what needed to be beautified was anyone's guess.

Well, at least she could finish her espresso con panna in peace. That is, if she could stop thinking about the brute.
CHAPTER FIVE

"So what do you think?"

She didn't need an opinion. She just needed to be told what she already knew. That her dress was far too short for a dinner meeting with Nick Brannagh.

Bree, sprawled on the sofa with a paperback, peered over the top of her reading glasses. "I thought you'd sworn off heels."

"Might as well live dangerously," Miri said, flexing her feet in the mint-green bow pumps, a birthday gift from Alex. She wasn't concerned about the Blahniks. They were safe enough but her dress wasn't. "This is too short, isn't it?"

"Jesus, worry wart, it's fine. And with those legs, you might as well show them off."

Miri stared down at her knees, unconvinced. Her little black dress, with its low square neck, thin shoulder straps, and slim-cut skirt, was usually perfect for any event after six o'clock. Except tonight it felt too short.

"I guess I'm nervous. How silly is that?"

"Not silly. A first date is always a big deal."

"It's not a date," Miri protested, wondering why she was denying the obvious. "I've got to convince him not to tear down the mill, and it's nerve-wracking." Except it wasn't the mill that had her nerves on edge. It was the thought of sitting opposite sexy Brannagh Enterprises for two hours.

Bree laughed at her lie. "Not a date in that dress and heels? Gee, no kidding. Anyway, just let the conversation flow. Put him at his ease, then stick it to him."

That didn't sound right to Miri. It was her that needed to be eased. Nick Brannagh seemed to be permanently at ease. Miri checked her watch and adjusted the coral comb holding up her hair. "Is Abe coming over tonight, or is he working on some news story?"

"He's coming over to make one of his pasta thingies, and I'm to have everything ready. Man, he's good in the kitchen, and even better in bed. You know, the other night..."

Miri clapped her palms against her ears. "Hell, Bree, not so much information, pleeease!"

Bree was right about her boyfriend being a superb cook. The other information she could do without, but presumably he measured up, if Bree's contented morning-after faces were any indication. Miri didn't have contented morning-after faces, but then, she didn't have a love life.

"Spoilsport," chuckled Bree, crawling upright on the sofa to poke her head between the drapes. "I thought I heard a car."

"Get away from there. He'll see you!"

"It might be Abe. Actually, it's Mr. Sex-on-a-stick. Nice Beemer. I'll let him in. I've gotta see this guy."

"Wait, Bree, I'll get it."

Too late. Bree was off like a Labrador after a Frisbee. Miri heard the whoosh of the front door being opened.

"Hi, I'm Nick."

Bree turned when Miri arrived a moment later. "Can I have him?" she mouthed.

"Hello, Nick. This is Bree, my roommate, and as you can see, she's crazy."

Nick fixed Bree with a devastating smile. "Hi, Bree. Are you an artist as well?"

Bree went as pink as her sweater. "Aah...no, I'm a photographer."

"That must be interesting. Plenty of subjects to photograph in Charmford, I guess?"

"Um...yes...," she mumbled.

Miri had never seen Bree turn to goo over a man. This being the woman who could in all probability stare down Mike Tyson if called upon, although to be fair, Nick was total eye candy in his white shirt, dark pants and gray sports jacket.

Miri nudged Bree's arm. "Don't you have to get things ready for Abe?"

"Oh, yeah...would you like to come in, Mr...Nick?" Bree said, stepping back from the door. Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared down the passage to the kitchen.

Silently cursing Bree for asking him in, Miri led him to the living room, feeling his eyes on her back. Now what to do? Should she invite him to sit down? No, it might be better to grab her purse and pashmina and start for the door. After all, this wasn't a date or even a meeting. Whatever it was, it was fast becoming awkward, although when she glanced up at Nick, he seemed completely at home, his hands in his pockets, watching her quietly.

"You have a nice home," he said, his eyes stroking her from head to foot.

Miri felt a sudden flash of heat, not sure whether to be annoyed or flattered at being so openly inspected. "Yes...it's...thank you."

"Perhaps we should get going. The reservation is for eight-thirty."

She nodded numbly, wondering how the man could be more comfortable in her home than she was. Collecting her things from the sofa, she walked ahead of him to the front door.

"'Night, Bree," she yelled down the hall.

"Night. Have a good time."

Miri doubted that would happen. The way she was feeling, the whole evening would be just short of torture.

Nick held open the passenger door for her, his arm brushing hers as she slid into the seat of his BMW. The briefest of contact, yet she still shivered. At that moment, Miri seriously considered making a run for it back to the safety of her house.

"Are you cold?" he asked, slipping into the driver's seat.

Miri only just bit back the bubble of laughter rising in her throat. Lordy, what would he say if she told him the truth? That he was too much man for her. "I'm fine. Just a little hungry, that's all."

"Good. I've reserved a table at Jean-Paul's."

"Oh, yes, I've heard it's very nice," Miri said. Only last week Marcus had suggested dinner there. Naturally she'd turned him down, using the excuse of being flat out finishing the Egg Beater.

"You look lovely, Miri."

Miri clutched her pashmina as her body heated to the compliment. "Thank you. You look very nice, too."

He grinned and fired the engine. "Thank you, ma'am."

Miri fastened her seat belt and looked longingly at her front door. It was too late to run home.

• • •

This was too romantic. Nick hadn't intended romantic, but this place was romance personified—all soft lights and tables set for two. The last thing he wanted was Miri thinking his dinner invitation was a prelude to sex. As appealing as the thought of bedding her was, it wasn't his intention. Not that the thought hadn't crossed his mind more than once during the drive to the restaurant. It hardly mattered anyway. Miri was sitting ramrod straight, her face as tense as a fiddle string. He'd be lucky to get a handshake out of her, let alone anything else.

Hell, she did look good, though. Every slender curve displayed to perfection and with her dark glossy hair pulled up, her pale neck and shoulders were like smooth marble under the soft lights. She'd turned every head in the restaurant, although in her nervous state, she'd been oblivious.

"I hope you enjoy the food here. The place was recommended by the hotel concierge."

She looked solemnly around the restaurant. "I'm sure I will."

Nick inwardly sighed. Maybe she'd loosen up by dessert.

While the waiter set out menus and poured water, Nick checked the wine list. "What would you like to drink? Red, white, or something else?"

"White wine would be nice."

"White it is."

As Nick studied the list of whites, he noticed that Miri had shifted her attention from the room to him. She was checking him out from under her lashes. Maybe a tease would get past the armor. "See something you like?" A second later, Nick could have kicked himself, as a deep red climbed up her neck like mercury up a thermometer.

"Sorry...what?" She looked wildly around the room as if searching for the bathroom as an excuse to leave the table.

Time to segue, and fast. "Your friend Bree is a character."

She managed a ghost of a smile. "Yes, she is. Bree's been my roommate for two years. A good friend, but a hopeless cook."

At least she was still in her seat, so Nick went with the topic. "So you're the cook?"

"Yes, it's mostly me although when I'm working late, we usually have Chinese takeout."

"They say cooking is an art, and you're an artist, so I guess you're an expert."

She gave a small lyrical laugh. That sound alone could capture a man in an instant. "I've never thought of it like that."

He signaled the waiter. "Well, I hope you'll enjoy French for a change."

Miri ordered the blanquette de veau, while Nick opted for a medium-rare steak and a bottle of the restaurant's best sauvignon blanc.

"Have you been to France?" she asked, after the waiter had left.

Nick nodded. "A few times. It's not a city for engineers on demolition projects. Better suited to romantic getaways."

She tilted her head in interest. "An engineer? What kind of engineer?"

He was surprised by the question as he'd expected a discussion on France. "Structural. I studied engineering in college, then decided to get into the demolition and salvage business. It's a big market, so plenty of room for another company."

"What made you bid for the Charmford Mill?"

He'd known she'd get to the subject sooner or later but he'd hoped for later, after she'd mellowed out with a glass or two of wine. He set down his fork and thought about his explanation. With Miri's chin set high, he knew one false move on his part and she'd be on her feet, calling him an ass and making for the exit.

"We were approached by a developer who wants the site for a new apartment complex. He contracted us to buy the mill, do the demolition, then sell the land to him. We make a good profit on the salvage and sale of the land."

"Can you pull out of the deal?"

"No. The contract is airtight."

She persevered. "Then you absolutely have to pull it down?"

"That's the deal."

Her brown eyes flashed impatience at his answers. "But surely you can do something?"

She was persistent, he'd give her that. "Look, if we reneged on the contract, we would be sued and we'd lose. The developer would still pull down the building. That's the business reality."

Nick tried to read her expression, but she was fiddling with the stem of her wineglass, seemingly lost in thought. Nick braced himself for the stand up, but then she suddenly looked up and smiled.

"I owe you an apology, Nick. I just thought if I offered you more money, then you could sell to me. I should have known it was more complicated."

"No apology necessary. Will you find somewhere else for your studio?"

"Yes, I'll find a place," she said brightly, but Nick caught the disappointment in her voice.

"Have you thought about moving to New York to set up your studio?"

She shook her head. "I can't do that."

Intrigued, Nick was about to ask her why not, when their meals arrived. They settled in to eat. Jean-Paul's lived up to its reputation.

"Do you have family?" she asked halfway through their meal.

"I have an older sister who lives in Toronto, and my dad's retired in Florida."

"Do you see them very often?"

"I catch up with Cate on holidays and visit Florida every couple of months. What about you? Any particular reason for moving here?"

"Charmford Hospital services much of the coast, and my father was offered the position of head of surgery. We loved the place from day one."

"At the Round Bean you said there's just you...?"

Nick suspected this would be delicate ground, but he wasn't prepared for the flood of sadness to her eyes.

"Two years ago, my parents were killed in a car crash just outside Charmford," she said quietly. "A head-on with a drunk driver. I was at an art workshop in Chicago when it happened."

So that was it. The part of her he hadn't understood now fell into place. "I'm sorry, Miri. I shouldn't have said..."

"No, it's okay," she interrupted, with a small, reassuring smile. "I don't talk about it much." She shook her head as if to clear the memory, releasing a silky strand of hair.

"How are you coping?"

She hooked the tendril behind her ear, frowning as she considered his question. "Most of the time it's okay. My art keeps me going, along with Bree of course. She's been brilliant."

"Do you have family in the U.K.?"

"Only a cousin."

She was trying hard, but Nick could see her pain. "Miri, can I get you something, or would you like to leave?"

"Dessert would be nice," she said, draining her glass. "Something chocolately."

Nick ordered one chocolate mousse and a coffee for himself. "Have you ever been sailing?" he asked, although he doubted that she had. Miri looked too much like a delicate hothouse flower for yachts. To his surprise, her eyes lit up.

"Yes, I love sailing. My father had a fifty-foot..." She stopped mid-sentence, and Nick saw her eyes slide toward the door, then round in surprise. He turned to see a couple standing by the reception counter. The man was late twenties and an inch or so shorter than his own six two. Fair-haired and impeccably dressed. The woman was older, short blonde hair, attractive.

When Nick turned back to Miri, she was smiling, but it looked far too tight to be convincing. He turned back to see the guy casually look around, then fix on Miri. His hand went behind his date's waist to steer her to them.

Interesting.

"Hello, Miri. I'm surprised to see you," he said, staring hard at her.

"Hello, Marcus," she said with a weak smile. "This is Nick Brannagh. Nick, this is Dr. Marcus Carter. I'm doing a commission for his new medical center."

Marcus nodded in the direction of his companion, his eyes still on Miri. "Mariette Hastings, our new neurologist."

Nick stood. "Doctors," he said, not bothering to extend a hand. Carter was so focused on Miri, he didn't seem aware of anyone else in the room. Obviously some history between the two of them, but not romantic, at least not on her part, although she was embarrassed. Like a naughty kid caught sneaking out without permission.

"So, Miri," Marcus went on, "I thought you were too busy finishing the sculpture to leave your studio." His tone was cordial enough, but Nick heard the resentment.

"Yes, it's just that tonight something came up..." she started to quaver, turning frantic eyes to Nick, looking like a startled deer caught in headlights.

Nick cleared his throat. "Look, it's great to meet you guys, but you'll have to excuse us. Miri and I are in the middle of a business discussion."

Marcus' astonishment had Nick almost laughing. "Business! We—we'd better leave you to it," he spluttered, although he didn't look like he wanted to go anywhere.

Mariette put a hand on Marcus' arm. "We should go to our table."

"Yes—yes, of course." With noticeable reluctance, Marcus escorted Mariette away to find a waiter.

Nick sat back down. Miri had her napkin scrunched in a ball, and she was staring at him with almost palpable gratitude.

"More wine?" he offered with a grin, filling her glass without waiting for an answer.

"Thank you for bailing me out. I didn't know what to say."

"Busted, eh? No problem. Happy to help a woman in distress. So...?"

"Actually, it's no big deal," she said, taking a sip of wine. "It's just that Marcus asked me out last week to this restaurant. I turned him down, saying I was too busy working on his sculpture, the Egg Beater. The thing is, I'm always busy with a commission, so I hardly ever go out. It's just that me being here...with you...seems a bit...you know, tactless."

Nick couldn't stop his grin of satisfaction at her overworked explanation. "Well, he did make it pretty obvious what he wants, or should I say, who he wants, so I guess it's not surprising."

She looked blank. "Sorry, what do you mean?"

Surely she knew. "He wants you. It's written all over his face."

"Oh, no, no. That's not true at all. Marcus is a friend. He did his surgical training under my father, and we've kept in touch. He's a client, that's all. He asked me out to discuss the commission. Nothing else."

Yeah, she was in damage control all right. Trying to reassure him that Carter wasn't important to her. He liked it. Hell, he really liked it. "Take it from me, Ms. Jamieson, he's only got eyes for you."

She frowned at that, making Nick wonder whether she really was as naïve as she appeared. "Anyway," he said as the waiter arrived. "Your dessert is here."

While the waiter set out the mousse and coffee, Nick checked on Marcus and Mariette. Carter was doing his best to listen to his date's conversation, but his gaze continually swept to Miri. For just a friend and a client, Dr. Carter looked pretty pissed.

Nick turned back to see Miri carefully remove the cherry from the top of the mousse and set it to one side. "What is it with women and chocolate?"

She thought for a moment, her dark brows drawn together. "A guilty pleasure, perhaps. Like having too many pairs of shoes or not wearing pajamas to bed." She dolloped a spoonful of mousse into her mouth, licking the tip of her spoon as her eyes swept him.

Evidently, Dr. Carter was forgotten.

"No pajamas, eh?" Nick tried to quell an image of Miri in a pair of sensible pajamas—all flannel, elastic, and buttons. Jesus. "So what do you wear, then?" he asked, his libido all ears.

She laughed, and Nick felt instant heat as she edged her tongue along her top lip. Was this just wishful thinking on his part, or was she flirting? Perhaps this was for Carter's benefit? To make the poor bastard even more jealous.

"Oops," she giggled. "Maybe that wasn't a good example." The tip of her tongue flashed again.

Okay, that was plain enough. The beauty was definitely flirting and it wasn't for the good doctor. It was an old-fashioned kind of flirting, but darn, if it wasn't the cutest thing.

"Really?" Nick couldn't take his eyes off her mouth. Full. Luscious. Ripe.

"Yum, this mousse is absolutely delicious," she sighed, scooping the last trace from the dish with a finger and licking it, all the while watching him through her lashes. Nick flexed in his seat. This woman might be a half-innocent, but that hot stare could raise a man's interest in a second. Like he even needed help with his interest. His interest was rising by the second.

He watched her as she carefully set her spoon down and leaned back with a small, contented sigh. "Mmm, I'm too full to eat any more? Would you like my cherry?"

Nick only just held his smirk as Miri's eyes went wide in horror. Poor angel. She had that startled-deer look again, only this time the deer wanted to die.

"Omigod! I didn't mean..."

For a few moments, Nick didn't trust himself to speak, and frankly, he couldn't think of anything to say with all that scarlet-faced dismay staring at him across the table. It made her look so unbelievably hot, he had an overwhelming urge to pull to her feet and kiss her there and then.

"No problem, I'm full as well," he growled, watching her lick a spot of mousse from the corner of her mouth. There was enough sexual voltage racketing across the table to electrify the whole of Charmford and she was playing it for all it was worth. He could barely believe the change in her.

"Would you like coffee?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you." Nick shook his own head in disbelief at how easily she'd aroused him. With her pink face and plump lips still moist from her licks, Miri had to be the sexiest thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

"Right, are you ready to go?"

"Hm-hmm," she said, taking her shawl from the back of the chair.

Nick carefully buttoned his jacket as he stood, thankful that it covered his crotch. Getting caught with his pants in a tent wouldn't be cool. Or cute.

Not cute at all.
CHAPTER SIX

It was kind of like being given a treat to stare at. A big, sexy treat.

So of course she had to stare at the treat. And truthfully, as a sculptor, she did have a responsibility to appreciate a well-proportioned form, even when the form in question was clearing dew from the windows of a BMW in Jean-Paul's parking lot.

Oh, my, she had it bad.

Miri snuggled back into the car's soft leather seat, enjoying the sight of the Big Sexy Treat leaning over the hood to clear the corners of the windshield.

The evening had turned out so much better than expected, considering she'd only accepted the invitation so she could argue about the mill. Nick's explanation had come as a relief. She was tired of the whole thing anyway, and she'd find somewhere else for her studio.

All in all, a perfect evening. Well, almost. Marcus turning up had been awkward. Her being there would have seemed rude to Marcus, but she would explain when she saw him on Monday at the installation of the Egg Beater. Anyway, she didn't need to think about him now that Nick was sliding into the driver's seat.

"Okay, we're good to go."

Go? She didn't want to go. In ten minutes she would be home and back to her pre-Nick life. Or should that be post-Nick? Strange to think that it only took one coffee and one dinner for her safe little existence to be categorized in terms of before and after Nick Brannagh.

"Yes, it is pretty late," she agreed, wishing she could have the evening all over again. Nick was so unexpectedly nice. He would also be especially nice to draw. She sighed as she pictured him in her sketchbook. Something to show her grandchildren, perhaps. Oops. Maybe that was overthinking just a little, but her sketchbook was full of drawings of friends and acquaintances, so Nick would fit right in. Fully clothed, of course. Only in art class had she ever drawn nudes. Nick as a nude? Omigod. Six feet, two inches of anatomical perfection.

Mercy.

Nick fired the ignition. "Buckle up."

A simple enough direction, but Miri couldn't stop herself from imagining Nick in the driver's seat, nude. Oh, hell, she was about to giggle.

"What's caught your imagination?" he asked with a look that suggested he knew the answer.

"Um, nothing at all," she squeaked, cursing her overactive brain. "It's the wine."

Miri wrapped her pashmina tighter around her shoulders and concentrated on the scenery outside her window, hoping she wasn't about to have some sort of hysterical fit during the drive home. With her emotions all over the place and Nick two feet from her, anything could happen.

"Oh, right, the wine."

Miri stole a look at him, seeing him smile. Okay, she'd just have to think about something safe. Like counting mailboxes and watching the street lights whiz by. Praying that the laws of physics and whatever else governed the universe wouldn't apply, and her home would stretch farther and farther out of reach.

Except the drive home would end in a few minutes, and Bree and Abe would be up watching a late-night movie, and Bree would want to know everything about the date. Slipping into the house and up to her bedroom without those two hearing her would be next to impossible, considering Bree had bat sonar when it came to after-dark sounds. There was also the question of whether Nick would kiss her goodnight, although that didn't seem likely. After all, officially this wasn't a date.

She was still pondering the goodnight thing when Nick turned the car onto her street and slowed. Perhaps she should invite him in for coffee? Would he think that was an invitation for something more? No, best to stick to a simple goodnight and escape to her bed. Besides, she needed to be alone with her art-class fantasy. Not have it sitting next to her.

"Miri."

Miri started at the sound of her name and looked around. It took her several seconds to register that they had stopped, and not in front of her house, but a few doors down, on the kerb next to the street's small park. To pull over a hundred yards from her house seemed strange, but perhaps he disliked doorstep goodnights. She leaned down, feeling around for her purse on the floor, her neck prickling with awareness that he was watching her.

Finding her purse, she sat up and braved a look at him. "This has been a lovely evening..." she started to say, but her words fell away as Nick brought his arm up to rest it along the seat, his fingers brushing the back of her neck.

He smiled. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Miri swallowed hard and stared along the road to her house. Her face was hot, and her head felt like it was about to float off her neck. A few minutes ago, she hadn't wanted the ride to end. Now she wanted nothing more. This man really was too much for her.

"Well, thank you, Nick. It's been very nice. Goodnight." Forced past tight lips, her words sounded so formal, but it was the best she could manage.

She reached for the door handle just as Nick leaned across the center console, turned her face to his, and kissed her.

Miri gasped. Right into his mouth. She swore she heard a faint chuckle from deep in his throat, but his mouth was so delicious, Miri closed her eyes and sank into the kiss. When he drew back, she felt the loss of him so acutely it was an effort to open her eyes and focus on her surroundings. The car. The street. Nick looking at her.

"Um...you're very good at kissing," she whispered, her hand still gripping the door handle, her lightheadedness climbing to dangerous levels.

"You're very kissable, Miri."

He kissed her again, this time claiming her mouth so completely, Miri couldn't prevent a moan escaping from deep in her throat. The first kiss had sharpened her senses. This one made everything spin. Curling a hand around his neck, Miri held on to him for dear life.

By the time Nick lifted his head, she was on fire. Nothing in her meager sex résumé had ever matched this, or the ferocious ache that had started between her legs.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice softly teasing. "You look pretty flushed."

"It must be the warm weather." Her cheeks turned hotter at the silly remark.

"Mmm, and how very sexy you look." His mouth found hers again, his fingers spearing her hair, releasing it from the comb.

Miri sighed softly against his mouth, loving the way his tongue worked hers and the way his beard bristles prickled her cheeks. She really should say goodnight after this kiss and stumble along the street to her house. Then all this would be just a memory, and her pre-Nick or post-Nick, or whatever it was, life would be back to normal. Except when Nick's mouth found the hollow in her throat and the unrelenting throb between her legs had built to just short of unbearable, Miri knew she was a lost cause. The intoxicating effect of his incredibly skilled mouth, fueled by her sexual starvation, gave her a sudden, overwhelming, what-the-hell moment. Barely able to believe her own boldness, Miri worked her fingers slowly across his chest, checking his build. Thoroughly, like any accomplished sculptor would appraise a form. He was so sexy and warm and inviting...and there was a button undone.

Miri paused, unsure. She ached to explore him. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she reasoned through her lust. Working her fingers inside his shirt, she pressed her fingertips against the hard muscle she knew would be there.

"An artist's nude," she murmured, tracing her fingertips around each sharply defined abdominal. She'd built a detailed mental picture of what Nick's body would look like, but her fingers told her so much more.

Definitely a work of art.

He lifted his head in surprise. "What?" he rumbled, looking down at her hand, buried inside his shirt. "What are you talking about?"

Miri pulled her hand out in embarrassment. "An artist's nude...what I mean is, you'd be perfect." Why on earth did she say that?

Nick stared at her, confused. "Are you saying you want me to get naked? Only too happy to oblige, but we'll need to find somewhere more private."

"I mean in art class."

He caught her hand in his big grip, kissing along her fingertips. "I'll be there. Just let me know the time and place."

"All right, I'll call the tutor and arrange it," she said, then added on an impulse, "how did you get to be so hard and strong?" She bit her lip. It was like she'd grown a stupid button that was stuck in the on position.

Nick leaned back, amusement in his eyes. "I prefer working with the men on jobs rather than punching a keyboard, and I do some boxing and martial arts. Keeps the reflexes sharp."

"Oh, macho kick-ass stuff." Miri knew she was being super-obvious in her admiration, but she couldn't seem to stop. She couldn't even slow down.

"I guess you could call it that. You know what you're doing to me, right?"

Miri's mind went dizzy with the possibilities. "What?"

Nick leaned close, his mouth a hair's breadth from hers. "Making me want to do this." He tilted her head back and kissed her throat again, this time making a path down to the top of her dress. This was so reckless but right now, nothing mattered except the moment and she so needed this moment. When he finally raised his head, she found the opening in his shirt again and pushed her hand deep inside, sliding her fingers down until they hit the barrier of his belt.

"So lovely and hard... " she started to say, but Nick kissed her words away. She felt his hand circle her waist to pull her toward him until she was hard to the center console. With a grunt, he lifted her effortlessly across the barrier to set her down, half on his lap, half on his hand.

Miri was way past lost cause. Shivering with desire, she watched Nick ease the straps of her dress down. As he bent low, Miri closed her eyes to savor the feel of his mouth at the top of her bra. His tongue dipped between her breasts. She arched to the wet warmth and when she felt him leave her, she opened her eyes, fearing this was the end. Nick was staring at her strapless, black lace demi bra as if transfixed. His white-hot stare made everything inside her tighten. Oh, dear Lord, she wanted him. All of him.

"Please, Nick," she whispered.

"Miri..."

"I want you to."

Nick hooked his fingers in her bra and in one movement had it around her waist. "Christ, you're beautiful," he said, bending to flick his tongue over a nipple.

Miri bowed to his mouth. "Yes, oh God, yes."

With a low growl, Nick enclosed her breast in his big hand while he tongued her. Miri thought she would pass out from sheer ecstasy and, when he moved to her other breast, she jumped at the hot bolt of pleasure. It was as if an avalanche of lust had been released from her body, with Nick kissing every inch of her, and her squirming so hard she could feel him adjusting his hand under her butt to keep her seated.

Nick's mouth was on her throat again, when somehow her vision cleared a degree to register movement outside the car. "Nick," she whispered fiercely.

He pulled away sharply, breathing hard. "You want me to stop?"

She gasped in alarm, both at what she could see out the window and the thought of him stopping. "Yes...no...I think it's Mr. Johnston."

"Who? Oh, is that all?" Nick said, bending his head again.

"No, really, it's Mr. Johnston walking his dog," she hissed, nudging Nick to pay attention. "He's my neighbor. He always walks his dog late at night."

Nick gave a ragged groan. "Right."

"Is he looking?" Miri asked, bending down so Mr. Johnston couldn't see her face.

"Uh-huh, he's looking all right," Nick said, peering through the glass. "But he can't see much through the tinted glass. Just a couple of silhouettes."

"That's a relief. He's a terrible gossip." She sat up to watch Mr. Johnston disappear down the sidewalk, dog in tow. "He'll be back this way in a few minutes."

Nick grunted and stretched his legs. "Time to cool off anyway. I don't want to be indelicate here, but I'm so goddamned hard, these pants are bloody uncomfortable."

She wriggled to the side to look. Even in the dim lighting and his dark pants, she could see the outline of his erection. "Is that my fault?" she asked, loving the flirting.

Nick gave a half-groan, half-laugh, leaning back to adjust himself. "Yeah, all your fault. Been like that for days."

"You know they won't let you in the art class with that. I'm sorry. I shouldn't stare. I have a habit of doing that."

"Stare away."

Miri twisted a little to make herself more comfortable, suddenly conscious of how wet she was. With her dress halfway up her backside, her dampness was almost in his hand. If she moved a couple of inches, he would be touching her. Shamelessly wriggling on his hand, she undid a button of his shirt.

"Miri, I think we should..."

The subtle change in his tone snapped Miri's head up. For a moment she was confused, unable to read his expression. Then she realized...froze. Oh, God, he didn't want her. A simple goodnight kiss had ended up a minute short of a one-night stand, and she was acting like a sex-starved idiot.

Pitiful. Tragic. Inexcusable. The words ricocheted in her head as if frantic for an outlet. "I'm sorry, I have to go," she said, covering herself with the bodice of her dress. "I've got a full day tomorrow..."

"It's okay, Miri," he said gently. He slide his hand from under her so she was fully in his lap. Miri sat very still.

"I really do have to get home."

He turned her face to his. "Miri, I mean it. It's okay."

"I know, but I shouldn't have," she said, looking away.

"Have what? You didn't exactly put yourself in my lap and pull your bra down."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant and it doesn't matter. We got carried away, that's all. It's my fault for parking here so I could kiss you. I've enjoyed it." He rasped a laugh. "Hell, you must be able to feel how much. But it's time to call it a night. I'll drive you to your house. You'll be too shaky to walk in those shoes."

Miri nodded. "Yes, that would be best."

"And if I don't get you home now," he added with a grin, "I'll have to start with you all over again. Then you'll be too tired tomorrow to work on the Egg Beater."

It was on the tip of her tongue to say something flippant, but she stayed silent. He was so calm, so composed. Miri doubted there was anything he couldn't handle with total ease.

Nick lifted her over to the passenger seat, waited until she had her clothes back in place, then fired the engine. "The living room light is still on," he said, gliding the car to an almost silent stop at her gate. "Will Bree be watching out the window, like when I arrived?"

Miri stared at the rectangle of light between the half-closed living room drapes. "Maybe. Her boyfriend Abe is here tonight, cooking them dinner. They usually watch television until after midnight." She groped around her feet to retrieve her purse and pashmina. Her coral comb seemed to have disappeared.

"Well, we'd better give them something to look at," he said, planting a soft kiss on her lips as she sat back up.

Nick slid out of the car and walked around to open her door. As he escorted her up the path to her front door, Miri felt as if an empty space had been hollowed out inside her chest. In another minute, Nick would be gone from her life.

"A lovely evening, Ms. Jamieson," he said. When he squeezed her hand and looked down at her with his dark, warm eyes, Miri had an overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around him and beg him to stay.

"I hope you enjoyed it, Miri. All of it. No regrets, right?"

"No regrets," she whispered, carefully opening the door so Bree wouldn't hear.

He didn't kiss her. He didn't even say he'd call her. He just gave her a smile and told to her to get a good night's sleep.

As if that was likely.
CHAPTER SEVEN

Miri sat up in bed and stared forlornly at the clock. Seven-thirty already. She might as well go downstairs and make coffee.

Kicking her legs free of the comforter, she sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her eyes, wondering why they felt so crusty. Oh, right, last night's mascara. Still, a missed beauty routine was the least of her worries. The Egg Beater had to be finished by this afternoon and then each section labeled ready for transportation and installation tomorrow. It was the last thing she felt like doing after a night of tossing and turning, thinking about Nick. One thing was for sure. He was all new territory and quite honestly, the first really grown-up man she'd ever been out with. Self-assured, with a hard, rough masculine edge—an edge that was flexing her pulse right now. It was all very distracting, not to say silly. Throwing herself at him like a naïve, love-sick teenager must have put him off forever. Yet even if he never called her again, she had no regrets. For the first time in two years, she had felt truly alive. Her Nick experience had put her in a whole new place and she loved the feeling, even if it did take her mind away from today's priority.

Slipping into her pink cushy robe and fluffy slippers with penguin faces, she ambled downstairs to the kitchen, surprised to find Abe preparing breakfast, and more importantly, brewing coffee.

"Hi, there. Ready for eggs benedict?" Abe chirped, turning to look at her. "Jesus, Morticia, what's wrong with your eyes?"

"Didn't wash my face last night, that's all. Be kind, Abe. I'm fragile. You're up early."

"Yeah, well, Bree's appetite kicked in as usual."

Miri leaned against the countertop, yawning and watching Abe rip around the kitchen, constantly flicking his shoulder-length fair hair away from his face. In his striped boxer shorts, Washington Post T-shirt, and Bree's tiger-print slippers, he looked adorable. This boyfriend wasn't even close to Bree's usual gym-ripped, brain-optional type. Abe Bryant was lanky, easy-going, kind, and intellectual. Definitely Bree's best boyfriend ever, and the one, Miri suspected, who would eventually get Bree to the altar.

"I'll make the toast," Miri offered, shuffling to the bread cupboard. "She'll skin you for wearing her slippers. Where is she, anyway?"

"Leave that and sit down. She's gone to get a paper and bread. That stuff in your cupboard is growing some weird mold. Want coffee?"

"Mmm, please." She flopped down at the kitchen table, pulling her tangled mane into a ponytail with an old scrunchie found in her robe pocket.

"How was your date last night?" Abe asked, placing a mug of steaming black coffee in front of her. "The first in a while, apparently."

Abe was very like Bree. Always to the point. "Well, it wasn't exactly a date, although it kind of ended that way," Miri conceded with a small sigh. "Anyway, I think I hear the paper coming."

The front door slammed. Bree strode in, hipped the door closed and dumped an armful of bread, chocolate bars, and a fat Sunday newspaper on the table.

"Miri says dinner with Nick was not a date, but date it was," announced Abe, mimicking a corner newsboy. "I've told you girls not to keep eggs in the fridge or, at least take them out a couple of hours before they're needed."

"Yeah, yeah," Bree said, sitting down at the table and fixing Miri with one of her nosier-than-usual stares. "Look at you, panda eyes. Must have been some night."

Miri readied herself for the grilling. "It was okay."

"So what happened?" Bree demanded as she began to divide the newspaper into three sections—a Sunday ritual intended to avoid squabbles, although it seldom worked. "Any horizontal action? Is he any good? Stupid question. He'd be sooo perfect."

Miri rested her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands, relishing the memory of Nick's perfection. "He's okay."

Bree arched a brow. "You've got Nick Brannagh written all over your face! Details, please."

"We had a lovely dinner and chatted all evening. He gave me a polite kiss in the car. Then we said goodnight."

"Aw, not the Cliff Notes, sweetie. All of it."

"None of your beeswax. But there was one thing. Marcus turned up at Jean-Paul's with a date although he didn't look very happy about it."

Bree slapped a hand to her chest in mock horror. "Omigod, I love it! But Marcus would be curious about Nick. What happened?"

"He said he was surprised to see me out when the sculpture isn't finished. The thing is, he invited me to Jean-Paul's last week and I turned him down because I was too busy. I feel bad now."

"You never told me! Pleeeease tell me there's more to this. Did they fight over you?"

Miri burst into laughter. "You're nuts, Bree Matson! Actually, it was Nick who handled the awkwardness. He told Marcus we were in a business meeting so they went off to their table, and Nick and I had dinner. He's not at all what I expected. He's really warm and affable."

Bree's brow shot up. "Affable! What the hell is affable? My God, the Jamieson man-proof veneer has been breached after one coffee and one affable dinner. I guess he won't be demolishing the mill after all."

Miri shifted in her seat and prepared herself for the inevitable. "We discussed it."

And?"

"It's complicated."

Bree opened her mouth to retort but promptly lost interest when Abe slid a large platter of eggs benedict onto the table. "No more talk about dates and mills until after breakfast," he warned, "or I'll take it away."

"Thank you, Abe," Miri said sweetly. The man deserved a medal.

Miri couldn't believe she was so hungry. Piling two large English muffins, two eggs, and three slices of bacon on her plate, she smothered the lot with hollandaise sauce and loaded her fork, aware that Bree and Abe were gaping at her. "What?" she scowled. "I'm hungry."

Abe winked. "Burn some carbs last night, did we?"

Miri poked her tongue out at him.

Silence descended while they ate their breakfast and read their allocated sections of the paper.

"Miri, what about I write a feature in the Charmford Chronicle about the mill's demolition?" said Abe when he'd cleaned his plate and put his newspaper aside.

Miri looked up from her paper warily. "What brought that on?"

"Actually, it was Alex who suggested it. You never know, it might help if Brannagh Enterprises knows the town is concerned about the demolition. The mill being a local landmark and all."

Miri frowned. "Not a good idea, Abe. They're locked into a deal. Anyway, you'll be too busy covering the Maddison-Baxter society wedding this Saturday to be writing about the mill."

Abe groaned. "Don't remind me. No one else in the office will do it. Bad luck for the bride and groom that their lunatic families don't get on. I ask you, is this a job for a talented journalist?"

"Find me one and I'll ask him," offered Bree from behind her paper.

Miri laughed. "Hey, you'll have Bree there with you. It'll be fun."

Abe pulled a face. "You are talking about Bree Matson, the scary bridezilla buster?"

Bree lowered her paper and edged her bottom lip out in pretend hurt. "How can you say that, dearest?"

"It's easy. I think it, and it comes out of my mouth."

"Ha, ha. Maybe you should take your shower now?"

With a chuckle, Abe got to his feet. "Real subtle, princess. Okay, I'm off. Bree, you're on cleanup duty."

Bree leaned forward and fixed Miri with one of her laser-like stares. "Have you given up on the idea of owning the mill?"

"I have. The whole thing is over," Miri answered, knowing Bree was only just getting started on her interrogation. Her friend wanted her dream as much as she did and since the accident, had become overprotective.

"I don't believe it!"

Miri got irritable. "He can't sell the mill to me, even if he wanted to. They have a contract with a land developer. Nick explained it to me last night."

Bree's hands went up, followed by a disgusted snort. "Oh, well, of course, a contract! How could we be so stupid not to realize? Have you thought he might be bullshitting you?"

"He's not. He told me from the first he couldn't sell. It's not like he led me on about it." Miri's irritation gave way to petulance. "Anyway, it's his property and he can do what he likes, can't he?"

"Well, if you ask me, it's effing strange that you lose the mill to a company that wasn't even in the picture, then the owner starts romancing you. For all you know, he could be married."

"Alex says he's not married and besides, he's not romancing me. It was just dinner. Please leave it, Bree."

"Marisa, you're the most cautious, most sensible person I know. But you're not thinking straight. Can't you see that?"

Miri didn't want to see anything at the moment, let alone Bree's logic. She was tired and uncomfortably full, and her hormones weren't running on cautious and sensible. She put her dishes in the sink. "I'll be working in the studio all day. Please thank Abe for the breakfast."

Grabbing her mug of coffee, she was halfway out of the kitchen when she heard Bree give a loud sigh of frustration. Turning to her closest and dearest friend, Miri tried to control her exasperation. "Bree, it really doesn't matter. I'll probably never see him again, anyway."

Yet even as the words came out of her mouth, Miri prayed they weren't true.

• • •

Miri was hotter than the Sahara.

All day Nick had tried to delete the memory of last night, but it kept replaying in his head like some erotic dream. He couldn't believe she had wanted it so bad. He couldn't believe he had turned her down. That had been a first, and hot damn, it would've been good. Good, followed by a major guilt trip. Miri might have been more than willing, but no way was he going there.

As it was, he blamed himself. Parking away from her house had been a mistake, but it seemed the best way to get around the problem of her nosy roommate watching them from the window. He should have walked her to her door, kissed her, and left it at that. He'd lost his head with the come-on at the restaurant and after that second kiss in the car, he was gone. It was all he could do to finally pull his brain out of his pants and put a stop to the whole thing. Not in his wildest fantasy, and he'd fantasized about her for days, had he ever pictured her doing that.

Walking out to the balcony of his suite, he checked his watch. Just after nine. A day of flip-flopping over whether to call her was wearing the hell out of him. He could think of a million reasons not to take things further with Miri Jamieson. They had nothing in common. It wouldn't work with his travel schedule. She'd expect romantic walks and movie dates and he didn't do that stuff. With her fiery temperament, she'd be work. Was he up for all that?

He picked up his cell.

She answered with a soft hello.

She sounded sleepy. Maybe she was in bed in her old-fashioned pajamas. Nick ordered himself not to ask. "Did I wake you?"

She gave a small gasp of surprise. "Nick, it's you! Oh, no, you didn't wake me. Not at all."

"Did you sleep well last night?"

"No, I hardly slept at all." She paused, and her voice dropped a little. "What about you?"

"The same. Took me hours to settle down." Totally true. He'd had to settle himself twice last night.

"Sorry about that," she answered with a small laugh. "You did seem quite unsettled, as I remember."

She was flirting. "So, any particular part of the evening stand out for you?" Hell, he was flirting.

"Well, there was that part where you..." She trailed off.

"Where I what?"

"You know," she said, her voice so low he wondered what was coming next. "Where I offered you my cherry."

Nick closed his eyes, remembering how her tongue had traced her lip. Damn, she was good. Damn, he had to know.

"Where are you?"

"In bed."

"Pajamas?"

She gave a small laugh. "No."

Was she naked? Every cell in his body urged him to find out. He shouldn't do this. Just another frustration that he'd have to settle.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, did you finish your sculpture?"

"Uh-huh, late this afternoon. It feels so liberating."

"And are you pleased with it?" He needed this distraction, otherwise he'd have to drive over to her place and liberate the hell out of her.

"What? Oh, yes, it's not bad," she answered, as if she hadn't been listening. "But don't forget you agreed to be a nude drawing model."

He could hear the soft tease in her voice. "So I did. When would you like me to come?"

Nick silently groaned when she laughed. "Anytime you like, Mr. Brannagh."

He paced the room. He was not going to do phone sex with Miri. Dammit, he was going to be a gentleman and ask her for a date.

"Sounds good. Aside from art classes, will you have time to meet me for lunch tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? That's Monday."

"Yeah." Was he missing something here? Did she not do Mondays?

"I can't. We're installing the Egg Beater," she clarified.

"What about Tuesday?"

"Tuesday?"

"Yeah." If he had to keep going through the week until she was free, he'd do it.

"I can't because the unveiling is on Tuesday evening, and I'll be getting things ready."

Nick was about to suggest Wednesday when she said, "would you like to come to the unveiling?"

"Sure. What time should I pick you up?"

"No need, because I'll be there early. It's at the Carter Medical Center, so anytime around eight-thirty would be fine."

"Great. I'm looking forward to seeing you and the Egg Beater. Very much."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you, too."

Nick heard a small, stifled yawn. "Right, you need a good night's sleep for tomorrow, so I won't keep you," he said. She needed her sleep. He needed a workout and a cold shower.

"Oh, you're not keeping me up."

No, but she was keeping him up. He had a fair idea she knew that. "Still, you must be tired."

"Kind of. Nick." Her voice was drowsy now.

"Yeah."

"I lied."

"Really?"

Her whisper caressed his senses like liquid silk. "I'm in my pajamas."

"'Night, Ms. Jamieson."

"'Night, Mr. Brannagh."
CHAPTER EIGHT

"It's magnificent, Miri!"

Miri smiled patiently as Marcus walked around the Circle of Life for the umpteenth time, lifting the cover every few steps before dropping it and beginning a fresh circuit. He was gushing, but Miri didn't mind. She was proud of this piece and thrilled that her client loved the work, especially since he'd paid almost eighty thousand for the commission.

"How did you get the proportions so perfect?"

"Careful calculations and a lot of planning."

"And the assembly went okay?"

"Yes," Miri confirmed, although it had taken all day to bolt each section together and do the final polish. With two artist friends as helpers, Miri had scampered around playing anxious overseer which, as one of her helpers had put it, reminded him of a demented chicken on uppers.

Marcus did another round. "It's incredible...you're incredible."

"Thank you." She sighed and adjusted a corner of the cover for something to do. Running on nervous tension for the past three days and having had very little food this afternoon had her lightheaded. Over the next forty minutes, a hundred people would arrive and she would be on meet-and-greet duty.

"When does the medical center officially open?" Miri asked to make conversation.

"Two weeks. Lockart Construction have yet to do the final office fitout." He took a step toward her, making Miri take a step back. "I was sorry to hear about the mill. Did he change his mind?"

"Who?"

"Nick Brannagh. That's why you were with him at the restaurant, wasn't it? To buy the mill?"

Miri caught the accusing tone in his voice. "Oh, yes...no, he didn't change his mind."

Marcus frowned. "That's a pity but at least you won't have to see him again. I didn't like the look of the guy."

Miri shifted uncomfortably on her red satin wedges. She should confess all but the words didn't want to come, so she stared down at her shoes, flexing her feet as though checking for fit.

"We should toast your masterpiece while it's just the two of us."

Miri looked up to find Marcus standing inches close, holding two glasses of champagne and smiling. He had a nice smile. Fair haired, blue-eyed, accomplished and charming, Marcus had it all. A fine man. Just not for her.

"Thank you," she said, taking a glass.

"To the Circle of Life," he said, lifting his glass high.

"The Egg Beater," Miri corrected with a laugh. She stared longingly at the kitchen door behind the reception area, listening to the clatter of stainless steel and crockery and the faint hum of the caterers' voices. Maybe she could escape to the kitchen on the excuse that she was hungry. Making conversation with Marcus was wearing on her. Her thoughts were on someone else—every perfect inch of him.

"You look beautiful tonight, Miri. A new dress?"

Marcus was different tonight, and frankly unnerving. If he was about to ask her out again, she would absolutely make an excuse to go to the kitchen.

"Yes, I bought it in New York," she said, looking down at her dress. It was beautiful, though. Even the fussy Alex had approved. An ankle-length cloud of crimson tulle with a tightly fitted matching silk bodice, cut low at the back. She had intended to wear her hair up but had run out of time.

Miri shifted on her wedges again and checked her watch. Eight o'clock, which meant Bree and Abe would be here any minute if they'd followed her orders to arrive early. Alex would, as usual, make one of her dramatic entrances. Then sometime after that Nick would arrive. She hadn't heard from him since Sunday, so he might have changed his mind. If he did come, he'd be one big distraction for the whole evening but how she wanted his big distracting self. The thought of him made her feel a little weak. She needed to find food.

She had only just made her excuses to Marcus and started for the kitchen when Bree and Abe strolled in. "Thank God you're here," she hissed as Bree leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek.

"Is Marcus hitting on you?"

"Kind of. Don't leave me until other guests arrive." When Bree chortled, Miri gripped her arm. "I'm serious! He's acting weird."

At least they didn't have to wait long as the first guests arrived a minute or so later and by twenty past, the lobby was so noisy, it was difficult for anyone to be heard.

After greeting every guest and saying thank you a hundred times, Miri had managed to push thoughts of Nick to the background. It might have lasted a little longer if hadn't been for Abe nudging her to look at the very large Janice Patterson dressed in a floral tent, standing by the door. She was talking to Nick. In an immaculate dark suit and white open-necked business shirt, he was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing in the room.

Miri tipped her head to one side to improve her view through the crowd. The fact that he hadn't sought her out on arrival made him seem almost elusive. Sexy elusive. Miri could barely move as she soaked up every inch of him. He'd come here tonight for her. Did that make it a date? She hoped it did.

As if sensing her, Nick turned and looked directly at her, the barest of smiles curving the corners of his firm mouth. She smiled back, hoping she looked exactly how she felt. Ready to be kissed...and more.

"I've been looking at your brute." Alex's signature perfume hit Miri's lust-stupored brain before she registered the words. "He's everything that Bree said."

Miri forced a neutral expression under Alex's probing stare. If the heat in her face was anything to go by, she had to be red, and Alex had to know the reason.

"Have you been introduced?" Miri asked.

As usual, Alex got to the point. "Bree said you went to dinner with him. Did he mention the mill?"

"No, not really," Miri answered, sliding a finger along the lapel of Alex's white jacket. "Where did you get this gorgeous suit? Is it Dior?"

"Don't try to change the subject, Marisa," Alex said through pursed lips. She nudged Miri's chin up with a scarlet-tipped forefinger, studying her like a specimen on a laboratory slide. "You're aroused. Something has happened."

The woman was as discreet as a strip-o-gram. "For goodness sake, Alex, don't you ever forget about sex for a single moment?" Miri laughed, flicking Alex's hand away.

Alex arched a brow as if the question was bizarre. "Occasionally, but another time for that conversation. Right now, I need to talk to Mr. Brannagh."

"Why do you...?" She trailed off as Alex silenced her with a dismissive look and set out across the room in the direction of Nick, who now had other members of the Arts Committee enthralled with his conversation. Janice was practically drooling over him.

Miri sighed. Alex would soon break that up.

"Have you noticed Marcus is wearing a belt with suspenders? Isn't that some kind of fashion faux pas?" asked Bree, sidling alongside Miri.

"Probably, but he always wears both. Where is he, by the way?"

"Talking to the mayor and giving your man the evil eye."

Oh, hell. Marcus definitely had an anguished look about him. "I didn't tell him that Nick would be here. He doesn't look happy."

"Some understatement. He's about to burst those suspenders. You sly baggage, inviting Nick and keeping it quiet."

Miri felt a pang of guilt. She should have told Marcus when she'd had the opportunity. "Anyway," she said, determined not to drop her mood, "are you and Abe enjoying the evening?"

"Hell, yeah. Have you kissed Nick yet?"

"I haven't even had a chance to speak to him. Anyway, Alex has him cornered." In fact, Alex was talking a mile a minute to Nick but whatever she was saying, it didn't seem to be making an impression. He looked bored.

"Mr. Sex-on-a-stick can more than handle the Widow," Bree said. "You want something to eat?"

The mention of food made Miri's stomach rumble. Following the ever hungry Bree to the hors d'oeuvres, she checked her watch again. Just past eight-thirty so too late for food, but time enough to use the bathroom before the unveiling.

Abandoning Bree, she was partway across the lobby, having successfully fended off a group of guests who wanted her attention, when Alex intercepted her outside the bathroom.

"I need to talk to you, Marisa."

"It will have to wait, Alex. The unveiling is in a couple of minutes, and I have to powder my nose."

"In that case, I'll see you later. It's important. Good luck, darling. You've done a wonderful job." Alex gave her a quick hug before melting back into the crowd.

By the time Miri had emerged from the bathroom, people were gathered around the sculpture. Marcus stood in front, looking at his audience with unsuppressed pride. Miri crumpled a little at the prospect of having to smile and shake a million hands all over again. As she threaded her way through the throng to join him, the hum of voices receded. Standing beside Marcus, she drew a deep breath to steady her nerves.

"Showtime, Miri," Marcus whispered and then, without warning, grabbed her hand to curl it up to his chest, squeezing her fingers.

Miri retrieved her hand as tactfully as she could with a hundred people watching. What had gotten into Marcus was anyone's guess, but he was totally out of character. Taking a step to the side, she watched him check his notes, then begin to speak. Considering how he liked to talk and his enthusiasm for the Egg Beater, he did manage to keep his speech to less than nine minutes. Half a minute short of mind-numbing.

"So I give you the Circle of Life," he said, pulling the cover away with a flourish.

Miri knew the work was good, but she wasn't prepared for the loud gasps from the crowd, followed by the roar of approval and thunderous applause that went on and on. The twelve-foot sculpture dazzled under the display spotlights—every concentric circle gleaming, every section of the enameled latticework standing in brilliant relief.

"Congratulations, Miri," Marcus said, enthusiastically applauding her. Miri smiled, her eyes on the guests, looking for Nick. She felt Marcus take her hand. Expecting a congratulatory kiss on the cheek, Miri inclined her face to his, her attention still on the crowd.

Marcus moved so fast, she didn't have time to react. A quick slide of his free hand around her waist to gather her in, and his mouth was on hers, his body bending her back so she was trapped against him.

At least he didn't put his tongue in her mouth, but he still had a decent taste of her. By the time he released her, everyone was clapping again, and Janice Patterson was shouting that they made a lovely couple and Marcus was grinning like he'd won first prize in the lottery.

Miri was so shocked, she couldn't move. Numbly, she watched Marcus sweep his gaze slowly over the guests, then lock. Miri's heart somersaulted when she saw his target. Nick stood at the back, hands in pockets, legs braced apart, his expression like flint.

"Miri and I are thrilled that you could all be here tonight," Marcus said, smiling triumphantly in Nick's direction. "Please stay for as long as you like, everyone. There's food and the champagne is flowing."

As the crowd began to disperse, Miri stood stock-still, trying to make sense of what had happened. Was this some kind of payback for the dinner at Jean-Paul's? He'd always been so kind and considerate. Sure, he'd asked her out many times, but he'd never touched her or even tried to touch her.

As if hearing her thoughts, Marcus moved in to give her a hug, but Miri found her wits and took a sharp step back in warning. She stared at the floor, hearing him cough apologetically to the guests still gathered around. "Can you give us a couple of minutes, folks? Our artist is a little overcome."

Overcome? More like ripping mad. While Marcus continued making thank-you noises to the hovering guests, Miri looked for Nick. He'd gone. Alex seemed to have disappeared as well.

"Miri, I know I shouldn't have done that in front of everyone," Marcus said, leaning close to her ear. "But you're so beautiful, and I'm so proud of what you've achieved. After we've finished here, let me take you to supper. Anywhere you choose."

A mixture of frustration and anger had her wanting to scream at him. "I—I," Miri stammered, trying to pull it together. "Ouch!"

"We've got plans tonight, Marcus," Bree said serenely, giving Miri another jab in the back. "Don't you remember the supper at the Art House, Miri. I organized it ages ago."

"Oh...yes of course. Anyway, if you'll both excuse me for a few minutes, I just need a little time alone."

If Marcus didn't like her plans, he didn't bother to argue as she made a swift one-eighty on a heel, mouthed a grateful 'thank you' to Bree, and headed for the kitchen to find iced water and solitude.

Opening the door, the caterers were still busy so she closed it again, and stole into the adjacent supplies room. Resting her face against a stack of photocopier paper boxes, she pictured Nick in his BMW on his way to his hotel. Her whole being ached at the loss of him. She would gladly give away the evening just to be with him.

"Miri, you are amazing."

She turned to find him looking down at her, smiling.

"Nick, I thought you had—had..." Her sentence stuttered to a stop. "Thank you," she added shyly.

"That was some show," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "Are you okay?"

As she looked up at him, her giddy relief rendered her momentarily mute. She nodded, then rallied. "I don't know what got into him. He's never acted like that before."

"He was marking his territory for my benefit, but it wasn't respectful. I can thump the jackass if you like."

Of course he could. So easily. "Oh, no, that's not necessary." A trace of amusement flashed in his eyes, but even then she couldn't be sure he was joking. "I'm sure he won't do it again. But he did glare at you all evening."

"Uh-huh, felt it clear across the room."

"Oh, God, how awful." She looked at Nick's tailored white shirt, inspecting the buttons. What a pity none were undone. "Did you meet many people before the unveiling?" she asked, wondering if he would mention his conversation with Alex.

"Well, I talked to your Arts Committee chairperson, Janice, and a few others, including your friend Abe."

Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't mentioned Alex. A little of Alex could go a long way and she'd had her fill of Alex tonight. Besides, Alex had apparently been taken away by something important which, in her world, could be anything from a man to a two-point drop in the Dow. A catch-up call tomorrow morning would do.

"Did you notice Mariette Hastings didn't come?" Miri said, still inspecting Nick's buttons.

"No Mariette," Nick agreed with a quiet chuckle. "Your client had someone else in mind for tonight. Anyway, I want to know about your art. Miri, you are an artistic and technical wonder. How did you do the calculations for those sections?"

"Computer-aided design," she murmured absentmindedly, still staring at his buttons. Would it be too forward to undo one? Then another?

"I thought you must use a CAD system. It's a fantastic work." He ducked down to look at her face. "Are you listening? You seem to be thinking about something else."

"What? Oh, yes, I'm listening." Now would be perfect if Nick kissed her.

"Anyway, I just wanted to congratulate you," he said, straightening. "I'll leave you to your celebrations. Bree and Abe will be expecting to see you, along with a dozen others out there."

Miri considered his words for all of two seconds. "Do they serve a late supper at the Endeavour?" she asked with a look she hoped made her intention obvious.

The small tightening of Nick's jaw told her she had it right. "Uh-huh. But I think you should be with your friends."

"And does the Endeavour do chocolate mousse?"

"I believe it does."

"With cherries?"

"I'm sure they have cherries," he said softly. "Is that what you want tonight?"

"Mm-hmm," she answered, running a nail around a shirt button. To hell with being obvious. Working the button undone, she pushed her hand through the opening, relishing the feel of warm, hard muscle.

Nick blew a sigh. "Should you be doing that sort of thing in a supplies room, Ms. Jamieson?"

Miri pushed her fingers deeper as she rested her cheek against his shirt. "You followed me in here, Mr. Brannagh and I want my supper at the Endeavour."

He eased her back to arm's length, looking hard into her eyes. "Are you absolutely sure about this, Miri?"

She didn't hesitate. She was going to do this, she really was. "I'm sure," she said.

In fact, she'd never been more sure of anything in her entire life. 
CHAPTER NINE

She looked like a nymph. An ethereal nymph who might float away into the night at any moment.

He needed a drink. The nymph had him thrumming like a bowstring. He wasn't used to this. Wanting a woman so badly, he didn't know where to start.

Except this wasn't any woman. This woman was a genius.

Nick had guessed she was talented, but not to a level that had him in total awe. No wonder every artist and dignitary from as far as New York had turned out to see her work. The Circle of Life's sheer beauty and design expertise put Miri's talent in the sublime. He still couldn't figure out how those small hands of hers could work such an unforgiving medium.

Nick watched her standing at the balcony balustrade. With her back to him, her bare feet were just visible below the bright red fan of her dress and her long hair shimmered under the outdoor lights.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, half hoping the nymph would ask for a wine so he could pour himself a bourbon.

She turned and leaned back against the railing. "No, thank you." she said, crossing a dainty foot and rocking on her toes. "I've never been to the Endeavour before. I guess you're used to fancy places like this."

Nick could barely drag his eyes from her, but he looked around obligingly. After years of travel, hotels all looked the same to him, regardless of star rating. But she was right about the Endeavour. It was impressive, set in sweeping grounds overlooking the harbor.

"Yeah, I guess it's pretty fancy."

She smiled and faced the harbor again, swaying her hips as if listening to some silent tune. "It's so beautiful out here. I could look at the view forever."

Nick chuckled. "Perhaps I should get you an armchair if you're planning to be that long."

"I'm fine," she said softly.

Nick heard the shyness. Spending the night in a hotel room with a man was probably a first. Perhaps two sexual relationships in her life and only after a respectable dating period. To be so accomplished at her young age, she'd be consumed by her art, ignoring the usual distractions of parties and boyfriends. She was serious and single-minded in her ambition, a little like him in that regard. After losing her parents, her art would have been her lifeline...kept her functioning. This was a big deal for her and Nick felt the weight of her decision.

Moving to her, he slid his hand around her waist, interlacing her fingers with his. Bare-footed, she barely reached past his shoulder, but the top of her butt still brushed his crotch. Nick shifted his hips, not wanting to make his need obvious so soon. He intended to take it slow tonight. Give her time to settle in.

"Miri, I have to compliment you again," he said, nuzzling the top of her head. "You are a creative genius and a damned good engineer."

She laughed. "An engineer? I've never really thought of it like that. Maybe I can get some tips from you."

"I doubt I could improve on anything you built," he said, inwardly groaning as her butt grazed his crotch again. Slow was starting to hurt. "So, what's next?"

She sank back against him. No way could she miss it jamming against her. "A sculpture for a library in London," she said. "It's to represent how electronic media are changing libraries. It's called Sine Muris."

Nick knew he couldn't do art talk for much longer. His cock was straining his pants, his interest in sculpting all shot to hell. "Yeah? How long...?" He stopped when she giggled. "I mean, how high?"

"Fifteen feet," she murmured with a sigh. Then, as if understanding his pain, squirmed her butt against him.

"That big, huh?"

"Uh-huh," she said, squirming harder.

To hell with slow. Pulling her zipper down, he worked his fingers over her hips to cup her butt. She made a small, encouraging moan, so he kept going, kneading the warm flesh, thinking how perfectly her plump little ass fitted his hand.

He turned her to him, bending for a kiss. Instantly, her tongue met his—softly at first, then harder as their desire grew. When they finally came apart, Nick went to pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, but she started on his shirt buttons, slowly working each button free before kissing her way down to the next.

Nick decided enough was enough. If he didn't get things moving right now, he'd explode. Pushing the straps from her shoulders, her dress dropped to her feet.

Christ, he should have known she wouldn't be wearing a bra under that dress. Before she could react, Nick scooped her up and got her to the bedroom. Yanking back the comforter, he lay her on the sheets. "I didn't mean to strip you like that, sweetheart. I didn't think."

She smiled up at him, her eyes without shyness or doubt. She looked almost dreamlike with her flawless, pale skin and glossy hair in a dark cloud over the pillow. Her body was willowy with just enough curves to cushion a man. Small, round breasts with rosy nipples, erect and begging for his touch.

Nick shed his shoes, socks and pants, aware that she was politely keeping her eyes averted. "You're beautiful, Miri," he said, stripping off his briefs. Her eyes met his. Stayed there.

"And I can't stop looking at you," he teased.

"You're beautiful too," she said. Her gaze dropped. "And large."

Nick laughed at her frankness. "Yeah?"

Settling down beside her, he wrapped her in his arms. She melted into him, soft and warm. She was so different to his usual women, he had to think about where to start. He'd see to her first. Get her mellowed out and take it from there.

Easing her back, he kissed her, running his fingers over her breasts down to her belly. She lifted her hips, seeking more intimacy. Okay, maybe slow wasn't necessary. He slipped his hand inside her panties—touched her. Miri was so wet and ready for him, it was all he could do not to tear off her panties and take her. Sliding a finger into her sex, he gently pumped her, rubbing his thumb lightly over her clit. She spread her legs for more, so he added a second, groaning his approval when she began to work herself against his fingers, making her own rhythm.

"So good," she whispered, as Nick synchronized his fingers to her thrusts.

Good didn't begin to describe how it felt to have her in his bed...doing this. Looking down at her flushed face, with her eyes glazed with desire, Nick had never seen anything so beautiful. He hadn't intended to become so consumed by her that he couldn't walk away at some time in the future. Despite their incredible sexual chemistry, they were worlds apart. Miri was making it damned difficult to even contemplate the idea of not having her in his life.

"Nick," she whimpered, returning him to the moment. "I..."

He kissed her hard, cutting her words off. She was close to climax. Working his middle finger deep inside her, he touched the spot that would send her over the edge. He could come himself, he was so hard...so turned on by her. Miri's eyes locked on his, her thrusts dying as she bowed to her orgasm on a small, broken gasp.

She sank back into the pillows, looking up at him with such a satisfied, sultry look, it took his breath away. Man, she was hot. "Ms. Jamieson," he said, gently stroking her down. "You are one sexy woman."

"You make me feel sexy," she said huskily. Her hand slid down to run a finger up the back of his erection. "And you're so hard."

Nick hissed a breath as pleasure surged. Hooking his fingers into the back of her panties, he began to work them down, but got stuck at her knees. Miri had glued herself to him, totally engrossed in exploring his dick.

"I need to get your panties off, woman," he half-growled, half-laughed.

"What? Oh," She pulled a leg up to extract a foot before falling back with a deep sigh, her eyes closing.

Nick couldn't believe what was in front of him. His fingers had told him she waxed, but he hadn't reckoned on that cute landing strip above such a pretty pussy. She was made for his mouth. Desperate for relief he might be, but being inside her could wait. He was going to pleasure this woman senseless.

Easing her back against the pillows, he kissed his way down between her breasts. "Beautiful," he murmured as he skimmed his tongue over her belly. Sliding a hand under her butt, he felt her tense. Nick paused, but when she relaxed, he kept going, tilting her hips to his mouth.

He'd barely touched her when she tensed again. Nick looked up to find her staring at him with wide eyes. "Nick..."

For a second, her expression confused him. Whoa, that red face wasn't lust. That was embarrassment.

"I've never..."

Hell, this was a first. "You want me to stop?"

She blinked in confusion. "I—I don't know."

The poor thing looked terrified. Nick grinned to reassure her. "Just relax, and if you don't like it, I'll stop. Okay?"

She nodded and fell back, and Nick took her. He wasn't sure what to expect, but when he slid his tongue inside her, she rose to his mouth. Nick withdrew to kiss around her sex, testing the reaction. She arched in protest, so he settled in again, taking his time, steering clear of her clit until she was thrusting up to him. Only then did he go there...pressing his tongue to the sensitive nub. Miri's breathing faltered, then, like a lit fuse, she was on fire, bucking to even the lightest touch, her fingers fluttering over his head as if worried he might stop. If she thought that, she couldn't be more wrong. She was glorious.

She writhed in his hands. "Oh, God...oh, God...yes!"

Her cry of need urged him on. Miri was shaking and gasping at every lash of his tongue, and when he sucked her clit, she jerked so hard, he had to grip her hips to maintain contact. At most, she was ten seconds away. Or maybe less. This time she came on a cry, her body rigid in his hands as her orgasm slammed her.

Nick couldn't stop his satisfied grin when he looked up. "Good?"

"Mm-hmm," she panted, trembling as he finished her off with a couple of languorous swipes.

He climbed up her body to kiss her. When she traced her tongue along his bottom lip, then his top, tasting herself with such deliberate, sensual slowness, Nick found himself snarling with pure, primal lust. He turned to grab a condom, but Miri suddenly sat up and took his cock in her hand as if intending to return the favor.

"Am I doing this right?" Her question was almost matter-of-fact as she began to pump him, her eyes flicking between her hand and his face, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Miri, you don't have to..." Nick started to say, but fell back shuddering, barely able to believe what was happening. "Oh, Jeez, what the...?" He raised his head to look down at her hand, caught between ecstasy and incredulity. Where in hell did she learn to do that?

"You're so hard. Are you sure I'm doing this right?" she asked again, as if the two statements belonged together.

Nick clenched his teeth. "Oh, God Miri, you're doing it too right." He'd give himself no chance of holding out with her pumping him like that. Pushing her hand away, Nick grabbed a condom and had it on before she could do more damage. Sliding her down, he lay on her, closing his eyes to steady himself.

Easing her legs apart, Nick guided himself into her, holding still to give her time to adjust to the invasion. "Okay?" he asked, angling his head to kiss her.

"You feel good," she whispered.

Nick adjusted her hips for a perfect fit. "And you are incredible."

She drew her knees up to open more of herself and Nick responded to the sexy invitation. Pushing up on his hands, he looked down at her as he began to stroke her snug sex, keeping it slow and shallow. As she rocked up to him, her eyes watched his hungrily, her lips releasing little huffs on each downward stroke. When he bent to kiss her, her legs wrapped his waist. Tightened. With a soft rumble of pleasure, Nick dropped down and filled her completely, drawing a deep moan from both of them.

"Yes...yes," she whispered when he thrust deep again. He settled into a steady rhythm. There was no talk now—only the sound of his ragged breathing and Miri's little moans as she clung to him. He could feel her muscles rippling around him, drawing him further into her body—drowning him in bliss. Sliding a hand under her butt, he lifted her hips to work faster. He felt her sex squeezing him as her orgasm climbed...closed in. At the green light, he drove fast, taking them both to completion. She came as his own release spiraled him over the edge.

Nick fell back on the bed, his heart going like a jackhammer. He had a strong sex drive, and he'd need every bit of it with this woman. She was addictive. As he eased the condom off, he felt Miri's eyes tracking his every move as though fascinated with the whole process.

"Anything you need?" he asked when he had her wrapped in his arms.

"No" she murmured against his chest. "Except..."

"I got it," Nick laughed, rolling out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"You'll see."

"Not...?"

"Maybe," he said over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen, surprised that he still had the energy to put a bounce in his step. Taking the covered tray to the bedroom, he found Miri plumping pillows around herself like some princess waiting for service.

He set the tray down on the bed. "Fuel."

She lifted the cover, laughing in delight. "Mmm! Where's yours?"

"Still in the kitchen. I'm not much of a chocolate eater." He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her pick the cherry from the top of the chocolate mousse and pop it in her mouth. "I guess you'll be wanting my cherry as well," Nick said, pretty sure she'd come back with some cheeky retort.

"Waste of time, your cherry went years ago," she countered, watching him from under her lashes as she sucked her finger.

Nick couldn't help but laugh. Only she could make that visual cliché work. She was all sass and play and, for a supposedly serious artist, damned good fun. "More?" he asked with a grin after she'd finished and was licking her lips.

Her mouth curved up coyly, her eyes flicking hot on his shaft. "Nope. I'd rather kiss you."

"I'd like to kiss you, too." Well, for a start he'd kiss her, and then he'd find all those sweet spots of hers again.

Her eyes sparked mischief. "But then again, maybe I'm done with kissing for the night."

"Oh, I doubt that."

She licked her lips. "Well, maybe one kiss."

Nick laughed again when she crawled across the bed, then lost it when she thrust her tongue deep into his mouth. She tasted of chocolate and sex.

"Didn't you say just one kiss?" he reminded her when she kissed her way over his face, then found his mouth again. Holding her tangled mass of dark hair, he eased her head back. Her eyes were dark with need, her mouth cherry red from his kisses. A magnificent, brown-eyed temptress that no man could ever get enough of.

She pulled away to straddle him, positioning her knees each side of his thighs, her face inches from his.

"Nice," she sighed, raising herself to rub his cock against her entrance.

Nick almost came then and there. It was beyond him how she could blow his control so easily. She wasn't experienced, but hell, she didn't need to be. Miri had an innate gift for giving and taking pleasure that straight-out amazed him. To her, sex was an adventure. No, more than that. It was pure joy—an emotion he hadn't felt in years, if ever.

Grabbing a condom from the bedside stand, he groaned as Miri started caressing him with her hand, still pleasuring herself. "Hold it," he ordered. She stilled, and Nick sheathed himself in record time. "Okay, got it." He spread his fingers over her hips to ease her down, but she wasn't having that.

"Let me," she said. Wrapping her fingers around the base of his shaft, she worked herself onto him, inch by slow inch until she was fully seated. Her eyes dropped to watch herself as she began to move—long, languid slides that, despite the slow pace, had Nick barely hanging on.

"That feels nice," she said, leaning back to rest her hands on his knees as she stroked him.

Oh, yeah, it was nice all right. Unbelievably nice.

Nick watched, mesmerized, as she left him completely, then impaled herself again. "I never knew it could be like this."

Nick hadn't either. In fact, he'd never known a woman like her. Not even close. Miri was giving herself...and him...a lesson in the art of sex.

She upped her pace to a fast, dangerous level, her breasts bouncing so hard, Nick stared at them as a distraction. The urge to just grab her and get it over with had him shaking, but dammit, he'd hang on until she'd finished her play and was ready to come. From the fun she was having, it could be a while.

Gripping her ass with both hands, Nick held completely still as she rode him, trying not to think about how fucking good she felt.

Suddenly and mercifully, she lost her timing, sank to a stop. Nick took over. Lifting her, he pushed up, desperately trying to be gentle and praying for strength to last the distance. Miri didn't want gentle, wriggling on his cock, urging him to go harder. Holding her steady, Nick finally gave up and plunged into her. Miri's thighs clamped him under the onslaught and, moments of sweet torture later, when he felt his point of no return rising up his length, she gasped, and he knew they were both there.

Nick didn't know what time they finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, except that it was late, and it was after Miri had insisted on pleasuring him with her mouth.

And wouldn't you know it, she was a natural.
CHAPTER TEN

If this was make-up-for-lost-time sex, she never wanted to catch up.

Miri lay in the middle of Nick's bed, staring at the ceiling fan and trying to remember how many times they had made love. It must have been a lot if she couldn't remember. Of course, she did remember every other detail, just not the statistics.

She smiled at her sexy thoughts. For the first time, she'd spent the night in a hotel room with a man. Made love to him until the wee hours. Had her first contented morning-after face in years. So many firsts. And now she was about to have her first breakfast with Nick.

Pulling herself up, Miri leaned across the bed to watch him through the doorway to the living room. Naked had never looked so good.

"Delivery in forty minutes. Right, thanks." He put the phone down and turned toward her, wearing a lopsided grin. "Stop looking at my ass."

Miri pulled the sheet up to her chin, faking modesty and indignation. "I'm not!"

He grinned all the way to the bedroom. She giggled as his eyes X-rayed her through the sheet.

"Denial won't work, Ms. Jamieson."

Of course she'd been looking at his ass, and every other delicious bit of him. "Well, you're only standing there naked for my benefit," she accused, squealing with laughter when he slipped into bed and flicked the sheet off her.

"I didn't know what you'd like for breakfast," he mumbled, tasting a nipple, "so I ordered fruit, cereal, eggs, toast, pancakes, coffee, and tea. Okay?"

"Perfect. What time is it?" she asked with difficulty. She was on fire again. How she could even be thinking about more sex was beyond her. She was a little sore and more than a little worn out, but her body was telling her she needed more make-up-for-lost-time sex.

Nick kissed his way around her other breast. "Around ten-thirty."

"Omigosh, that late? Why didn't you wake me?" She tried to lift her head but sank back as he tongued her nipple again.

He looked up and grinned. "Couldn't bring myself to do it. You looked so peaceful lying there snoring."

"I don't snore." She pinched his arm, and Nick pulled himself up to wrap her in a bear hug.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "No, but if you did, I'm sure it would be a very pretty snore coming out of that very pretty nose of yours." He pulled his head back to look into her eyes. "How are you this morning?"

Miri matched his warm gaze with a happy sigh. "I'm good. And how are you?"

"Terrific," he answered, nosing her hair to one side to nuzzle at a spot below her ear. He squeezed her butt and Miri snuggled close, then slipped down to rub her cheek against the sprinkling of dark hair on his chest, her fingers following the narrow trail down his belly.

"I thought you might like to wait until after breakfast."

"No," she said, kissing her way up to his mouth. "Now's good."

Nick laughed and flipped her over and pulled her butt flush to his hips. His fingers slipped between her legs. "Good?" he asked, sliding his thumb along her sex.

Miri gripped the pillow, her body rippling from head to toe. "Mmm." Her small affirmation couldn't possibly describe how good it felt with Nick's skilled fingers dipping and stroking.

"Oh, God, I'm going to come." Why she needed to announce the obvious, she didn't know.

"Uh-huh," he chuckled against her ear. "Right now I'd say."

She came on her next breath, her body riding every throbbing wave of ecstasy, leaving her shuddering against him.

Nick nuzzled her ear. "More?"

"Oh yes," she sighed, wriggling her hips back in invitation. Coming for Nick was no problem. She couldn't get enough of him.

She heard the rustle of a condom wrapper, and felt his hardness nudging against her sex. Miri braced herself. His size would be a lot to cope with after last night. Nick must have felt her tense as he gently eased an inch into her, then stopped. "Okay?"

It was more than okay. It was wonderful and tender and unbelievably erotic. She nodded, angling her hips to meet him as he slowly filled her. For a long time he didn't move, just held her. Then slowly he began his slides—gentle and slow, his hand caressing her breasts. Miri lay quite still, caught in the sweetness of the moment as he stretched her a little more with each lazy stroke. He didn't always need it fast to come, she'd found that out last night.

She heard his breathing sharpen, felt his body tighten. Miri pushed back to take every rigid inch of him, loving the strength of his powerful body as he spasmed against her.

He'd barely finished before his fingers were busy again. "Get ready," he ordered softly into her ear, and Miri's body reacted to the delicious order. With him still inside her, stroking her, and his fingers working their magic, she climaxed within seconds, this time the searing waves of pleasure even more powerful than minutes ago.

They lay together, not moving, just enjoying the intimacy of being joined.

Nick stirred and kissed her shoulder. "Ready to be washed all over?"

"I'll be there in a minute."

While Nick went off to the bathroom, Miri slipped into his shirt and walked out to the balcony to enjoy the sunshine. What a perfect day to follow a perfect night. Turning on her phone, she texted Bree to say she would be home sometime, although the way she was feeling, weeks would be too soon. She sighed at the thought of experiencing Nick's body for weeks. Oh, the joy.

Lifting her face to the sun's warmth and stretching her arms wide, Miri felt every bit a contented cat that had just lapped up a large and very satisfying saucer of cream. She snuggled her face into the collar of Nick's shirt, inhaling his spicy aftershave and the smell of sex that seemed to have worked into every pore of her body.

Shower time, she thought, a small prick of desire tugging deep. No, she couldn't possibly do it again. Oh, but yes she could. She all but skipped back inside, cursing that she'd buttoned up his shirt. She had it half pulled over her head when her phone started playing its Adele tune.

"Marisa."

Miri's mind hit reality with a thump. Oh, hell, she had meant to call Alex this morning. "Hi, Alex. What happened to you last night?"

"Something came up. I've been trying to call you, but your cell's been off. I need to talk to you."

"Sounds important. What is it?" Miri started on the buttons with her free hand.

"It's the mill. My analyst, George, spoke to a friend of his at the realtor's to get some background on the mill's sealed bid process."

Miri yawned. "That's seems a lot of work, and honestly, Alex, I've given up on the idea of owning the mill. Nick won the sealed bid fair and square."

"But, that's just it. It wasn't fair and square. George called me last night with the news. Apparently the bids were leaked before the deadline, and the leak had to be to Brannagh Enterprises."

Miri sank down on the bed as her legs started to give way. "What do you mean? How could they have known? It's secret."

"We don't know how they got the bids in advance but now we know why Nick Brannagh's bid was only just above yours. He knew your offer, and all he had to do was top it by a couple of thousand and the mill was his."

Miri froze, her finger poised over the last stubborn button of the shirt. "Surely that can't be true. Why would he even bother to cheat on a small job?"

"A small but very lucrative job. Of course, the realtor is investigating so we won't know more until that's complete. By the way, where are you?"

"Nowhere important. I have to go."

"Marisa, are you with him?"

"I can't talk now. Can I call you later?"

"Oh, my darling, you are with him. I'll come and get you. Are you at the Endeavour?"

"Yes...no. I'm fine, Alex. I'll call you later, I promise." Miri ended the call, terrified she was going to faint.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers clutching Nick's shirt, her mind filled with the horror of Alex's words.

Ten minutes ago they had made love. Three minutes ago Nick's suite had been her Paradise. Now it looked sordid and ugly. A place of cynical manipulation. Nick had acted as if he cared for her and she had let herself care for him. More than she could ever have imagined. Stupidly, she'd made it so easy for him by inviting herself to his suite. He had the mill, and now he'd had her for a night. A double victory for him.

The full realization of the situation hit her like a cruel slap.

Without warning, nausea rose in her throat.

Seized by a frantic need to get out of the suite before she threw up, or worse, before Nick came out of the bathroom looking for her, she began a frenzied search for her clothes. Retrieving her panties from under the bed, she dragged them on, then pulled his shirt off and struggled into her dress, which Nick had placed over the back of a chair. Swallowing a sob at the irony of his thoughtfulness, she grabbed her bag.

Her escape from the suite might have been successful if she hadn't had to go back for her phone, left on the bed. Just as she grabbed it, Nick emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. His super-muscular body gleamed with moisture where he hadn't toweled himself off, and his mouth—that beautiful mouth that had kissed hers a thousand times, wore a broad grin.

"I thought you were joining me, but you're dressed," he said, his grin fading to puzzlement as he walked toward her.

Miri took a step back. "I—I have to go." Shoving her phone is her bag, she turned away. She couldn't bear to look at him.

"Don't you want to stay to eat?"

"No—no, I can't. Something has come up."

"Let me get dressed and I'll drive you. Whatever it is, maybe I can help."

She could barely stand now as dizziness threatened to buckle her legs. "No!"

Nick took three long strides to reach her, his arm circling her waist. "Miri, what is it?"

As she looked up at his face, his brow was so furrowed with worry that Miri could almost believe his act. He must have done this before.

"Did you get a call with bad news?"

She jerked away. "Don't. I just need to go home." He hadn't realized that she knew, and no way was she going to tell him. The final humiliation.

He stepped back. "Sweetheart, let me help you. Just tell me what it is."

His endearment brought a rush of anger. "I don't want your help, and I'm not your sweetheart," she whispered savagely.

He flinched but didn't move. "What the hell is going on?" Nick's voice had gone very low.

"You tell me." She felt a sudden swell of tears. No, she wouldn't cry. That would mean he'd won.

"What does that mean?"

"What do you think it means?!"

"Why won't you tell me what's happened?" He put a hand to his head, then lowered it again, staring at her as if he'd worked it out. "Do you think last night was a one-night stand or something? Because, that's..."

"Was it?"

"Jesus."

He couldn't even deny it. Sickness heaved in her stomach. "I need to use...." She turned and fled to the bathroom, slamming the door so he couldn't follow.

Miri threw up, but it made little difference to the pitching nausea. Rinsing her mouth with water, she stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the frightened, ghost-white reflection. The words 'if something seems too good to be true, it usually is' fell into her head. Nick had been too good to be true. Even Bree had seen he was a fraud.

A surge of self-loathing swept her so hard, Miri braced her hands on the basin to hold herself upright. How could she have been so stupid? Allowing herself to be carried away by someone who was little more than a stranger. She'd made love with him over and over, and all the time he'd hidden his smug lie. What did that make her...or him? It didn't matter. What mattered was that she needed to get out of this suite.

She walked out of the bathroom to face him. He was sitting on the end of the bed, holding the hair comb she'd left in his car after their dinner at Jean-Paul's.

For a moment, she looked at his handsome face, the grief of what might have been threatening to overwhelm her again. She watched him rise and start toward her, the comb in his hand, his expression hard.

"Talk to me, Miri. I deserve at least that much."

Miri caught the steel in his voice that she imagined served him well in managing his company. She wasn't surprised. From the first, it had been that hard edge that had attracted her. In reality, she only had herself to blame.

Swiping a hand across her tear-filled eyes, Miri found her own steel. "You deserve nothing!"

Her words stopped him in his tracks as if she had physically struck him.

Miri picked up her shoes and opened the door, knowing he was watching her and hating herself for still wanting him.

"Good morning, madam." The room service waiter smiled brightly from behind his trolley, but Miri put her head down and pushed her way past to the elevator opposite.

Her one-night stand would end with a cab ride home.
CHAPTER ELEVEN

Abe was right. For the so-called society wedding of the year, the Maddison-Baxter nuptials were an unruly affair. Definitely one of Bree's horror weddings.

Miri stood on the outskirts of the fray, watching Bree corral the wedding party into a group pose while the guests watched on in a mixture of amusement and sympathy. Bree, as usual, had it in hand, circling the wedding party like a determined sheepdog, barking orders that had them all jumping to attention.

Miri couldn't say that she was enjoying herself, but at least it was a distraction. Two days since she'd left Nick's hotel suite, and she still needed all the company she could get, even if it did mean being Bree's packhorse.

Bree slid to a stop beside Miri, poppy-faced and breathing hard. "Thank God, nearly done. Some in-laws have no gratitude. Anyway, all good shots. Thankfully, I'm only doing the stills. That guy with the video camera looks all in."

Miri mustered a small smile, more for Bree's benefit than her own. "Looks like you've both got it all under control. Thank you for insisting I come as your helper."

Bree squeezed her arm. "Good to see you smile. For a while I thought I'd have to get Alex's pool guy to lift your spirits."

Miri laughed at that. "Oh, God, when Alex offered to introduce me to him as her so-called remedy for a broken heart, I couldn't believe it. He looks about nineteen. I'm sure she was joking, but you never know with her."

Bree sighed. "His abs are something, though."

"You don't think that Alex and he...?"

Bree shook her head. "Nah. Too young, even for the Widow. Alex has two requirements when it comes to her lovers. Must be over twenty-one and have a pulse."

"Lord, that's awful, Bree. We shouldn't laugh. She's been so kind."

Very kind, in fact. Within minutes of Miri arriving home from the Endeavour, Alex's chauffeur had turned up to whisk her to Alex's house, where she'd been looked after like a sick kitten needing round-the-clock care. Bree, being too lazy to cook, had gone to Abe's place for two days, leaving the house empty.

"Well, it's over with now. Anyway, I'm glad you're back in residence. Just a couple of extra group photos and one of that son-of-Chucky horror of a ring bearer."

"Chucky won't stand a chance against you," Miri laughed.

"That's true. Little brat. Anyway, will you be okay?"

"Fine, don't worry about me. I'll talk to Abe if I get bored. He's with the minister."

Miri looked at Abe standing in the church portico in conversation with the Reverend Pike. Both wore expressions of pained endurance, clearly wishing their duties were over.

"All right, now where's that demon kid?" Bree slung her camera over a shoulder and trudged off.

Miri gratefully retreated to a stone bench to view the proceedings from a safe distance. It really was something to see Bree managing Lilian Baxter, the mother of the bride and a woman of remarkable tenacity when it came to the arrangement and photographing of her daughter's veil. As usual, Bree quickly took the upper hand as every time Lilian advanced, Bree waved her away as if the poor woman was contagious.

"I effing earned that thirty minutes," wheezed Bree, plunking herself down beside Miri. "I hope they don't want divorce photos in six months. With Lilian in the family, it just might happen. Anyway, I'm off to the wedding breakfast venue for Round Two. You coming?"

"Actually, would you mind if I went home? I need to work, and Carly said she'd call in later with some new ideas for ceramics."

The good thing about Carly's company was her constant chatter, and that's what Miri needed right now. Lots of talk to distract her for the rest of the afternoon. Besides, she had to get back to her regular routine.

"No problem. Hey, it's the Chronicle's society reporter."

"Hi, ladies, behaving ourselves are we?" inquired Abe cheerfully as he strolled over to them, his hands in his pockets. "Some wedding, huh? So, Miri, I have that piece about the mill ready for Monday's issue."

"I'm not sure about this," Miri said with a grimace. "Do you have to do it?"

"Yep, the town needs to know everything. Brannagh's could start tearing the place down any day. It's an important issue."

Miri gnawed at her lip in worry. She'd seen Nick's steel and he wouldn't take kindly to interference in his business. "I still think you should let it alone, Abe. It'll just provoke him."

"Serves Nick Brannagh right," Bree chipped in. She slipped an arm through Abe's. "Can you drive me to the wedding breakfast so Miri can have the car to go home?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll finish the piece this afternoon." He turned to Miri. "You want to check it before publication?"

Miri shook her head firmly. "No way. Just email it to Alex."

"You know the Widow won't let this go without a fight," warned Bree. "So be prepared for a major drama."

"It'll be hell," Miri sighed, resigned to the inevitability. A confrontation between Alex and Nick would be messy, and apart from anything else, she would probably have to see him again.

Miri said her goodbyes and headed home. Although she needed to make a start on the library commission, what she really had in mind was to spend a couple of hours in a tub of bubbles with a book, although not a romance. Today she was feeling far too raw for that genre.

• • •

Fresh from her soak in the tub, Miri had only just pulled on an old cut-off tank top and her favorite denim shorts, frayed by so many washings they showed an indecent amount of her backside, when the phone rang.

"My precious, how are we today?"

"We're okay, Alex. Thank you for having me to stay. It helped a lot."

"You are most welcome. Now we need to get together early this week for a discussion about next steps."

"Do we need next steps? Quite frankly, I'd hoped we could leave it."

"Oh, no, my dear, we can't do that. It must be dealt with, and quickly. Now, I understand Abe has the article on the mill's demolition ready for publication."

"Yes, but he'll email you the draft beforehand."

"That's good. There are a few things that need to be included. Now, don't worry about a thing. I'll make a time later this week to catch up."

"Fine," Miri answered unenthusiastically, then added on an impulse, "I never asked you what you said to Nick at the unveiling. What was it?"

"I asked him if he was surprised at his bid being so close to yours...to check his reaction."

"And?"

"The brute told me to mind my own business. If only I'd told you of my suspicions before the unveiling, none of this would have happened."

"Please don't blame yourself, Alex. You've been wonderful."

"But I should have known what would happen with that big hunk of simmering testosterone. A man like Nick Brannagh is an experience, and only for the experienced. Not for unwary innocents such as yourself. Now, would you like to come over for dinner again tonight? Bring Bree as well."

Miri didn't need reminding of her innocence but Alex was right. Her two love affairs hadn't exactly prepared her for Nick. "Thanks, Alex, but I've got to get back to work." The front door chimed. "Anyway, I have to go. Carly's here."

Miri hung up and checked her watch. A little after two-thirty. Too early for Carly, but then she did have a tendency to be time-challenged. Holding her hair up in a twist, a bobby pin in her mouth, she padded down the hallway in bare feet and opened the door.

It took her several seconds to register her visitor through the bright afternoon sunlight.

It wasn't Carly. It was Nick on her doorstep, looking like he meant business.

His gaze didn't move beyond her face, the strength of his stare not allowing her any latitude to look away. Slowly extracting the pin from her mouth, she released her hair and put a hand on her hip, daring him to speak so she could slam the door as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Are you all right?"

Miri was caught off guard, surprised that he was inquiring after her health. "I'm fine, so you can leave." Now was a good time to shut the door. As she stepped back, Nick brought his arm up and rested it against the doorjamb.

"If you don't mind, I need to get back to work," Miri snapped.

Nick adjusted his arm against the door, his thick bicep straining the sleeve of his white T-shirt. Miri tried not to look but she couldn't stop herself any more than she could stop the earth from turning on its axis. When she looked back to his face, she saw the flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. Damn him.

"It's obvious you're not fine. I want an explanation," he pressed, his eyes heavy with expectation.

"Surely I don't need to spell it out for you?"

"Your cell's been off for two days, and no one's been here. What's going on?"

All right, he would get his explanation. Then she would order him out. If nothing else, it would be closure.

She shrugged and stepped back. "Very well, I'll tell you, Mr. Brannagh."

Miri led him down the passage, swaying her hips as payback for him catching her staring at his muscles.

She didn't want him in her kitchen so she took him to the studio where she always felt emotionally safe. As he followed her in, she saw him look around at her equipment, books and supplies before settling his gaze on her. Miri felt its cold inquiry. So different from their night together.

The night her heart had sung.

She moved to her easel, now regretting her decision to let him into the house, let alone her studio. Her sanctuary. Alex's words spiraled in her head. He was an experience, and only for the experienced. Well, this man had given her a lifetime's experience of hurt, so she should feel confident to deal with him, right? Except she didn't feel confident with him looking at her like this was all her fault.

Her studio seemed too small for him and, infuriatingly, he kept his eyes locked on hers, giving her no chance to organize her thoughts. Well, if he was going to stare like that, she might as well give him something to stare at. Taking a step back, Miri leaned against the easel, pulling her shoulders back so that her tank top lifted to reveal more skin. Not intending to leave the house for the rest of the day, she hadn't bothered with a bra. A lucky decision on her part. All that skin on display and him knowing her breasts were bare under her top would tempt him like hell. She waited, willing his eyes to drop.

She should have known his gaze wouldn't move an inch from her face. Nick just stood there like a great big pine tree, looking at her while she felt increasingly silly in her skimpy shorts and top. It was just like their first meeting at the mill when she'd worn her business outfit. He'd seen through her act then, and he could see through it now.

For an eternity the silence hung between them, until Miri felt as if she would burst. "What exactly do you want to know?" she finally asked.

"You were ill when you left the hotel. What happened?"

"It's simple. You're a cheat and a liar, and I found out. It made me throw up in your bathroom. That's what happened."

That got his attention. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, am I going too fast for you? The mill sale. You know, that thing you cheated on." Miri almost recoiled at the loathing in her voice.

"Miri, what idea have you gotten in that crazy head of yours?"

"How dare you," she shot back, knowing she sounded ridiculously melodramatic.

He obviously thought so too, as he sighed and shook his head patiently. "Do you mind if I sit?" he said, sitting on her sofa anyway.

Damn him for sitting. Damn him for being in her studio, her most precious place.

He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees. "Tell me what's going on."

"You already know, so spare me the pretense."

"Just tell me." His look was less patient now.

"All right, I'll tell you," she said, trying to control her rising temper. "Alex found out that you knew the other bids before the deadline. No wonder I lost. Is that explanation enough for you?"

Nick's face turned to granite, his voice shorn of any lingering patience. "I have no idea what you are talking about, but I assure you I do not act unethically or illegally, nor do my staff. Is that explanation enough for you?"

The controlled vehemence in his tone made her flinch, but Miri wanted him as angry and wretched as she was. She plunged on. "You liar. You told me I'd soon get the hang of the property business. Now I know what you meant."

"You're talking rubbish, Miri."

"Everything Alex has told me about you is true!" she sneered.

She drew a sharp breath of fear when his jaw tightened and a muscle jumped in his cheek. "You'd believe that over-painted country club joke."

"Don't you dare talk about her like that. If it wasn't for Alex, I would never have found out about you!" She stabbed a finger toward the door. "Get out of my house, you lying asshole!"

Slowly he got to his feet, his chiseled features angled to hardened steel. Miri took a nervous step back as he strode to her, stopping so close she could see his chest expanding and contracting as he breathed deep. She saw the muscles of his strong neck flex. She'd buried her face in that neck when he'd held her close. Heat suddenly coursed through her body.

Miri could feel him staring down at her. She needed to escape or she might weaken. Despite everything, her desire for him hadn't lessened. She should just walk out, get in her car and drive to Alex's or Carly's. While the thought took root, the seconds stretched.

"Look at me, Miri."

She dropped her head. "I asked you to go."

From under her lashes, she saw him step backwards. She felt his gaze sweep her, and when she looked up, he was staring at her erect nipples outlined under the thin cotton of her tank top. His interest speared a throb of need so hard between her legs, Miri shook under its power. A few minutes ago, her outfit had been a weapon to taunt him. Now it made her vulnerable, her arousal so obvious he had to know.

Nick fastened her chin in his big, battered hand and tipped her head back to look into her eyes. "If this is some crazy regret thing about what we did, you don't have to feel that way. Our night together meant a lot to me." His voice was softer now, and Miri felt herself leaning into the touch of his warm fingers.

"It was all a sham," she said dully.

"I'm asking you to listen to me. It wasn't a sham, and I know you care. Hell, Miri, I don't want to fight with you. Right now I just want to pick you up, carry you upstairs, and make love to you."

Tears stung her eyes. "That will never happen."

"Dammit, we can fix this if you'll just sit down and talk to me rationally. You're all fired up over some nonsense your idiot friend has told you."

Miri blinked as his words registered. Wrenching away from him, she brought her hand up to make a fist, hitting at his chest as if the futile action could banish him from her mind.

He barely moved against her pathetic blow, his arms dropping loose to his sides.

Miri's desire was replaced by rage. Trapped in her for the past two days, it found a savage outlet. "Sit down and be rational! You must be out of your mind!"

Swiping a hand across tear-filled eyes, she released every ounce of her anger and despair. "Why didn't you just fuck me and call a cab afterward? At least that's honest. But you pretended it all meant something. That you cared. What a joke. It was you taking your reward."

Nick shook his head in disbelief. "Surely you don't think..."

"Get out!" she half-shrieked, half-sobbed, falling back and grabbing at the easel for support.

Nick's expression seemed so incredulous, Miri stared back at him in astonishment, struggling to understand how he could keep doing this.

He shook his head in frustration. "For God's sake, do you really believe I cheated you out of your precious mill and then screwed you as some kind of prize?"

"Yes!" she shouted. "The coffee, the dinner, the unveiling...it was all to get me into bed so you could laugh at me afterward. But that's what men like you do, isn't it? You use people!"

When he flinched, she threw back her head in triumph. Except what she saw filled her with dismay. He wasn't furious. He was hurt and disappointed. It pooled so clear in his eyes, she could feel it washing over her like a wet, clammy mist. Her words had hit home, but it didn't feel good.

"Goodbye, Miri." He reached into his pocket and took out her comb. "I guess you'll want this back." He set it on the arm of the sofa.

Then he was gone.

Miri heard his heavy footsteps along the hallway, followed by the faint click of her front door closing.

Stumbling to the sofa, she looked down at the indentation where his body had been. With a sob, she sank down into the hollow, wrapping her arms around herself as if to absorb a little piece of him.

Finally she texted Carly not to come over, and gave in to her despair. Clutching the comb, she curled up on the sofa and cried.
CHAPTER TWELVE

Calls for demolition of Charmford Mill to be put on hold. Prominent businesswoman demands the mill's sale be investigated.

"Fitz!" Nick bellowed down the passage before returning to his office to fling the Monday issue of the Charmford Chronicle on his desk. Damn, this was a mess. A small, uncomplicated demolition and salvage job, one he'd taken on for its short timeframe and easy cash flow, was about to threaten his company. The fucking irony.

Nick stood at the window, staring moodily at the mill's parking lot. The dismantled building façade was packed onto pellets, ready for shipment to the buyer. This morning Fitz and two of the crew had started removing the casement windows at the rear of the building in preparation for the full demolition, scheduled to begin in two days.

He wasn't overly surprised by the article. What Miri had flung at him had been warning enough, but he'd put it down to a lot of hot air generated by Alexandra Olivet to gain time to prevent the demolition. Miri, being the volatile stick of dynamite that she was, had believed every word.

Fitz appeared at the door, his rust-colored hair coated with plaster dust. "Yes, boss, what is it?"

Nick jerked a thumb at the newspaper. "Have you seen that?"

Fitz leaned across the desk to read the headline, his mouth dropping open in surprise. "What the feck...?" He scratched his head, releasing a white cloud. "What's going on?"

"Not sure yet, but it's a mess we don't need. Did anyone contact you before the bid went in. Anyone at all?"

Fitz screwed up an eye while he thought. "Nobody that I can think of."

"Did Alexandra Olivet call you?"

"Nah, never heard from her. Isn't she connected to that woman who wanted the mill?"

"That's her. Ms. Olivet is some piece of work. Claims we knew the bids in advance."

Fitz snorted. "Why is she even involved?"

"She wants the mill for Marisa Jamieson and making the allegation puts the project in limbo."

"So what does it mean for us?"

"It means just a whiff of this could ruin every other sealed bid we're involved in."

Fitz slumped down in a chair. "Shit."

Nick hated this. Fitz would have to be checked. Damn that Olivet woman.

Fitz looked up. "There's no fecking way I knew those bids."

"Don't worry about it," Nick said grimly. "I'll sort it out."

Alexandra Olivet's allegation was libelous but she'd know that. She'd be counting on the publicity to make him withdraw from the project. Miri's name hadn't been mentioned in the article so it was possible she hadn't known. He hoped that was true. As mad as he was at her, he couldn't rid himself of the memory of her walking down her hallway in those tight denim shorts, waggling her ass at him. The same beautiful ass that had squirmed in his hands. Miri was fast becoming his weakness, something that Alexandra Olivet had to know and was using to her advantage.

"So now what?"

Fitz' question cut into his thoughts. "We keep going with the salvage today and tomorrow," Nick answered, taking his seat. "But contact the rest of the crew not to come. We'll put a hold on the demolition until this is sorted."

"Hell, the delay alone will cost us."

Nick stared at the headline again, only too aware of what was at stake. "I know, so I'll deal with it quickly."

"What about the façade? Do we ship that tomorrow?"

"No, put that on hold as well. I'll call the buyer to let him know the situation. It should only take a day or two to straighten this whole thing out."

In truth, he didn't see much of a problem getting the matter sorted. It was keeping it quiet that bothered him. "Ms. Olivet will crumble when I threaten to sue her and, if she doesn't, we start legal action."

Fitz got to his feet and trudged to the door. "I'll carry on, then."

"Do that." Nick picked up his cell and texted his operations manager to check Fitz's paperwork for the bid. Then he called his personal assistant in New York to make an afternoon appointment with Alexandra Olivet.

• • •

Miri didn't feel even close to comfortable. Her stomach was in a knot, her head ached, and truthfully, she didn't know why she'd insisted on being here.

She stared into her lap, fidgeting with the hem of her top and wondering if it wasn't too late to leave. It was just on two o'clock, so it probably was. Nick would be here any moment and being caught sneaking out of the office like a scared rabbit would only irritate Alex, although to be fair, it was Miri's idea to attend the meeting. She wanted to see Nick's reaction to the article. He would, of course, deny the allegation, but Alex had irrefutable proof, or so she said. All the same, his denial in her studio suggested the matter was not as straightforward as Alex believed.

Miri closed her eyes, her mind reliving the horrible moment when she'd screamed at him to get out of her studio. At least it was over and done with. After this meeting, she could move on, no matter what happened. She felt no comfort in the knowledge. Instead, she felt slightly sick.

Alex walked into the office and sailed briskly around her desk to sit down with a whoosh. "Right, my dear, Petra will bring the coffee in a minute."

Alex was, as usual, turned out like a fashion plate, her business armor for the meeting a steel-gray suit. With her hair caught in its usual chignon, gold hoops swinging from her ears, Alex looked as if handling Nick would be just another day at the office.

Miri tried to relax in her chair, but she felt uncomfortably stiff and out of place. "Coffee would be nice..." she began, but her words dried up when Alex's secretary popped her head around the door.

"Mrs. Olivet, Mr. Brannagh is here."

"Thank you, Petra. Could you ask him to wait a few minutes?"

"Right." Petra closed the door with a soft click.

Alex pursed her scarlet lips. "Just to put him at a disadvantage. It will do him good to seethe a little."

"Alex, I don't think that's a good idea. He's not the sort..." Miri stopped as the door flew open and Nick strode into Alex's office, followed by a feebly protesting Petra.

"Two o'clock was arranged, and two o'clock it is."

Nick stalked past Alex's desk and set his big frame down in a leather armchair at the other end of her vast office. He glared at Miri. "I'm glad you're here to help clear this up."

Before Miri could respond, Alex's business voice cut in. "Mr. Brannagh, I have a couple of calls to make. I need you to wait outside."

Nick's eyes shifted to Alex like she was prey. "No chance." He leaned back to rest an ankle across his knee, folding his arms. In his jeans and tight black tee, Miri didn't even have to look at Alex to know she'd be on full sexual alert. Alex couldn't resist prime alpha, especially one as sexy and challenging as Nick Brannagh.

"Shall we get started, Ms. Olivet?"

Miri knew Alex had a problem. Not only was Alex's attraction to Nick a disadvantage, he was also at the other end of her office, leaving her no option but to get out from behind her desk and go to him.

Miri watched in awe as Alex elegantly rose and sashayed across the room like some actress on a red carpet. In one graceful movement, she seated herself in the chair opposite Nick, crossed a perfectly toned leg and, with a small sigh, waited for his eyes to drop. Except he ignored her legs, something Miri knew would annoy the hell out of Alex. Bree was always going on about how the Widow considered her legs a national treasure.

"May I call you Nick?" Alex asked with a tight smile. When he didn't answer, she arched a brow. "Right, then, Nick, what is it you wish to discuss?"

"I'm not here for a discussion. I'm here to tell you a few things."

"Would you like some coffee before you start telling me a few things?" Her tone seemed calm enough, but Miri caught the slight tremor. Alex was rattled.

Alex slowly recrossed her legs, easing her skirt up her thigh.

Miri groaned inwardly. If Alex is going for some kind of Sharon Stone leg-cross, he won't be impressed.

He wasn't. In fact, he stared at Alex's face as if she were some desperate, over-the-hill diva. It seemed almost cruel. For the first time ever, Miri noticed the lines on Alex's face. It was as if Nick's visual insult had stripped away her glossy, youthful veneer. At that moment, the woman looked every bit her fifty-something years.

Nick leaned comfortably back in his chair. "Forget the coffee. You'll need something stronger by the time I'm finished, Alex."

Despite her own nerves and Alex's obvious dismay, Miri couldn't help but see the humor of the situation. It was like witnessing a pair of gladiators squaring off before a bout.

The door opened, and Petra breezed in with two coffees. Setting one down on the low table next to Alex, she flicked a curious glance at Nick before walking across to Miri with the other. "Is there anything else, Mrs. Olivet?"

"Nothing more thank you, Petra, except could you make those travel reservations to Los Angeles for late next week?"

"Yes, of course." Petra departed, turning to take one last, round-eyed look at Nick.

"Right, so where were we?" Alex said crisply, apparently recovered. "What is it you wish to say?"

Nick returned his foot to the floor and leaned forward, his expression steel. "You've damaged my company's reputation, and I take that personally. You will fix this problem today. Do you understand?"

Nick's brutal tone would make most men rethink their words, but Alex bravely waved a dismissive hand. "Nick, let me make myself clear. Your bid was invalidated by your company's dishonesty, and it is very likely a criminal offense. I suggest you fix your own problem by formally withdrawing from the purchase of the mill. Then the sale can proceed to the next highest bidder, who as you know, is Miri."

"I won't be withdrawing the bid," he said, directing an angry look at Miri. "The mill is coming down."

Miri wanted to shrink away to nothing. She considered making an excuse to leave then promptly dismissed the idea as it would show weakness.

Alex took a sip of her coffee, set the cup down and flicked a nail. "I'm afraid that's not going to happen. You see, I've gained a temporary injunction to prevent the demolition until the matter is fully investigated. The court papers were served to your New York lawyers less than fifteen minutes ago. Your mobile will no doubt ring at any moment with the news."

Miri couldn't prevent a loud gasp of surprise. What on earth was Alex doing?

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Nick said, on his feet.

"I'm sure you know what an injunction is," Alex answered, rising also. "You cannot proceed with the demolition until this is fully investigated."

Nick's cold fury permeated the entire room. "Don't think for one minute you can threaten me. I assume this is all for Miri's benefit."

Miri felt the blood drain from her face as his cold eyes raked her before returning to Alex. "This will cost you millions in damages. Tens of millions."

Alex maintained her smile, but her lips visibly thinned at his words. She looked almost scared of him. "Mr. Brannagh," she said, pausing to drag a breath when her voice quavered, "please don't think you can make this go away by threats."

"Get that injunction lifted now," Nick said in a dangerously low voice. "Then start planning your retraction. If you've paid some fool at the realtors to make up this whole thing, then this will cost you everything you own. Got it?"

Nick's imposing height had Alex craning her neck to look up to him. Two spots of color appeared on her cheekbones. Whether it was caused by his threat or her attraction to him, Miri couldn't be sure, but it was probably both.

"This is just...it's quite outrageous..." she huffed feebly back at him. Miri watched as Alex's gaze swept over him with a practiced eye, her cheeks turning a shade brighter. Despite everything, the woman couldn't resist taking her fill.

Nick turned, and Miri found herself on the end of his fury as he headed for her. "I'd like to talk to you," he said bluntly. He jerked his head toward the door. "Outside."

"I'm afraid that's not possible. I need to speak..."

"Now," he said roughly, waiting for her to stand.

She stood.

Nick turned to Alex. "We're done. My lawyers will be in touch."

With that parting shot, Nick's hand was under Miri's elbow and he was steering her through the doorway, past the wide-eyed Petra, out of Alex's suite, and down the passage to a conversation area near the elevator.

"Sit down."

Miri didn't argue. He was furious with her, but she told herself it didn't matter. He was a liar.

He sat in the chair opposite her. "You were very quiet in there," he snapped. "Cat got your tongue?"

"I—I'm just surprised at your attack on Alex."

"You're surprised?" he said, staring at her in disbelief. "She's done all this for your benefit."

"I...that's not fair. Alex is doing the right thing, just as anybody would. She's kind and honest."

"I don't doubt she's kind to you. Honest? I don't think so. Did you know what was going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"The article and the injunction," he barked. "Did you know about any of it?"

Miri shook her head, feeling the nip of his sharp tone. "Only the article."

He shoved a hand across his head in exasperation. "Dammit, Miri, in your studio, you accused me of cheating you out of that bloody building. I told you then I had no idea what you were talking about but you wouldn't listen. Just went off with both barrels blazing."

"Because I didn't believe you then, and I don't believe you now." Yet even as the words came out, Miri felt a stab of doubt. Surely Alex wouldn't have got it wrong? It wasn't possible, considering how meticulous she was in her business dealings.

Nick's hard voice broke into her thoughts. "You know what I think? When I refused to sell you the mill, your friend cooked up this whole thing to make me withdraw. We rely on sealed bids to gain business. Big projects that keep thousands of people employed. She figured we'd just give up and walk away to avoid bad publicity. Maybe you did as well?"

Miri raised a hand in protest. "No! That's ridiculous. Alex would never do that. I know her."

Nick leaned forward, his gray eyes so arctic she could barely stand the cold. "Really? Maybe you just can't get past your stupid, blind loyalty to her. You need to grow up, Marisa."

Miri found strength enough to raise a defiant chin. Her first impression of Nick Brannagh had been arrogance and she had been right. She'd never make that mistake again. "You wouldn't know the first thing about loyalty. I'm leaving."

As she found her feet, Nick stood and looked coldly down at her. "Don't let me keep you."

Turning, she started walking slowly back to Alex's office, not trusting her limbs to manage a faster pace. At the door to the suite, she turned to see if he was watching her, hating that she wanted him to be watching her.

He had gone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Look, no suspenders."

Miri stared into her lager, determined not to look. With Bree winding her up, a mere glance could start her giggling.

"And he's pressed a crease in his Wranglers."

"Shut up, Bree," Miri hissed. Marcus had obviously bought new jeans and plaid shirt, especially for tonight. Thank God he hadn't bought a cowboy hat, or that would have really set her off.

Marcus did have his surprises, she had to concede. If kissing her in front of the town's leading citizens hadn't been surprise enough, this certainly was. After apologizing a hundred times for his behavior at the unveiling, his invitation to the Atlanta Bar's country night had caught her so off guard, she'd accepted before she realized what she was doing. Who would have thought Marcus did country western? Regardless, he certainly had an eye for a quality night out. The Atlanta's monthly country nights were legendary, attracting the best bands and singers, and more than a few celebrities from New York.

Sitting across from a relaxed, grinning Marcus, Miri worried that he was reading far too much into this evening. No way was that happy face all down to good rockabilly. As far as Marcus was concerned, this was a date. She liked him well enough. So had her father, who considered Marcus the finest surgical intern he'd ever had working under him. Her father had joked more than once that Marcus was son-in-law material. True, her and Marcus were alike in many ways. He might be staid, but then she wasn't exactly the break-out fun, adventurous type herself. They were both dedicated to their work. In theory, they should click. She had clicked with Nick.

Clicked and clicked and clicked...

"You look quite lovely tonight, Miri."

Miri jumped, lost in the memory of that night at the Endeavour. "Oh, thank you, Marcus." The poor guy was trying so hard. She looked down at her red shirt tied up around her waist, skinny black jeans, and ankle boots. Quite lovely didn't seem the right description, but that was Marcus. Always formal and polite. "And you look very handsome." Oh hell, she shouldn't have said that. Now he looked love-struck. Still, she couldn't deny that Marcus had a comforting warmth and, more importantly, he would never hurt her.

Marcus turned to Bree and Abe. "You guys been to these nights before?"

"A few," Abe nodded. "It's not easy getting Bree off her butt." He howled as Bree elbowed him.

"Marcus, does Mariette like country western?" Bree asked sweetly.

"Who? Oh...actually, I don't know." He looked at Bree with a puzzled expression. "Do you know her?"

"No, but I thought you..."

Miri nudged Bree in the ribs and shot her a warning look. "Bree, are you having another beer?"

"Yeah sure," Bree answered before leaning over to whisper, "killjoy."

Miri worked on a change of subject. "What sort of music do you like, Marcus?"

Marcus stood and stuck his hand out. "This kind. Would you like to dance, Miri?"

Miri blinked in surprise. "Oh...sure." Setting her glass down, she took his hand and stood, looking doubtfully at the crowded dance floor.

"Rather you than me, kid," Bree laughed only to scowl when Abe yanked her to her feet just as she'd picked up her beer. "You must be f-ing joking..." she yelled at him over the music. Downing her beer in three impressive gulps, she stumbled off behind Abe into the throng.

With Marcus' hand on the small of her back, he guided her into the middle of the dancers. Miri hadn't a clue how she was going to carry this off with the awkward Dr. Carter, but he took her hand, pulled her to him, and swept her into a dance.

Omigod, who would have thought Marcus could dance? The guy was seriously good. The steps, the hips, the perfect timing with the music.

"Hey, you're great at this," Miri shouted as he turned her on his hand, her ponytail flicking across his face.

"Thanks," he yelled back. "All those dancing lessons my mother forced on me. I always liked country the best."

Miri laughed as Marcus whirled her again. Wow, this man really was full of surprises, and so easy to be with. Miri flung herself into a no-hands free spin, laughing as Marcus caught her before she crashed into a cowboy.

"Oops...maybe I need more practice."

"How y'all doing, folks?" drawled Abe as he and Bree sidled alongside them.

Bree's face had turned beet-red under her yellow curls. "Ya know what?" she wheezed, "I'm going back to drink beer." Grabbing Abe's hand, she dragged him off toward their table before he could protest.

Miri was flagging as well, but Marcus looked as cool as ever. "I'm ready to take a breather, too," she yelled at him over the music, fanning her face with a hand.

"Okay, it is pretty warm in here," he shouted back.

They weaved through the dancing mass to their table. Abe had ordered their second round of beers, so they happily sat enjoying the music, sipping their beers and munching corn chips.

"You ready to try again?" asked Marcus with a grin, angling his head toward the crowd. Before Miri could answer, he looked down at his belt. "Damn, my pager," he muttered, pulling it out to read the message.

"Sorry, folks, I have to go. Medical emergency. Something serious, otherwise they wouldn't have paged."

Miri felt an unexpected stab of disappointment at losing him for the rest of the evening. "I hope everything is all right."

"I hope so, too. I'm so sorry, Miri." His eyes crinkled under an apologetic frown. "Will you guys be okay to get home?"

"Sure," said Abe. "We'll get a cab. No problem."

Miri watched him disappear through the crowd. From now on, she would make an effort with Marcus...be more romantic.

"Well, that was fun," said Bree. "He's some dancer. Puts you to shame, Abe."

"Yeah, but my expertise lies in other areas, as you know," Abe said with a wicked grin.

Miri looked around the bar. "You guys want to stay for a while? Because I do." It was time to break some rules. Stay up late. Drink beer. Perhaps something stronger. Taking another sip of her lager, she leaned back and let her mind enjoy the moment. Post-Nick wasn't so bad, after all.

"Hell, yeah, we'll stay," said Bree into her thoughts. "But I'm gonna get a real drink. Something with a kick. What about you guys?"

Abe shook his head. "Nope, I'll stick to beer." He nodded in the direction of the bar. "The duty reporter from the Chronicle is here. You girls want to sit at the bar?"

"Beats sitting here like two bumps on a log," giggled Bree, standing to hook a hand through Abe's arm and pull Miri to her feet with the other.

Miri grabbed her shoulder bag. "I need to use the bathroom. Order me a cocktail. Something fruity."

She dodged her way between the dancers to the bathroom. There was a ten-minute wait, and by the time she emerged, the line dancing had started.

Working her way around the dancers, she stopped to say 'no thanks' to a cowboy offering to buy her a drink when, as if some preternatural power had taken over her brain, she glanced toward an alcove in a far corner. He was partly obscured by a necking couple, but she instantly recognized the dark head, strong profile, and line of his broad shoulders.

Was he alone? Of course she needed to know. To ruin her night. Please, please get out of the way, she silently begged the necking couple, until finally they moved.

He wasn't alone. A woman sat so close to him, they had to be an item. Nick's attention was totally on the woman as she talked. When she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, Nick laughed and slipped his arm around her shoulders. Miri closed her eyes, trying to grasp the situation, and when she opened them again, the woman had leaned back.

Pregnant.

Miri's breath stalled in her throat and her legs seemed to have lost their power of movement. The only piece of her still functioning was her primal flight instinct. She needed to escape before he saw her. Because, without a shadow of a doubt, Nick would sense her presence and turn to look at her.

Then he would...what? Give her one of his cold looks or just dismiss her outright by turning away?

She stood there, telling herself it didn't matter. One night of sex in a hotel room was nothing. People did that all the time. Except she didn't...or hadn't until a few nights ago. Look where it had gotten her? Nowhere, except jealous and pathetic.

It took a dancer jostling her out of the way for Miri to move. Stumbling through the crowded dance floor to the bar, she crawled onto a stool Bree had saved.

"Got you a strawberry margarita. Anything wrong?," Bree asked, staring at her. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It's nothing. Thanks for the drink. I've never had one of these." She took a sip. It tasted strong. Perfect for numbing the mind. She drained it in a single swallow.

Abe was talking. "Miri, this is Alan Petersen, one of our journalists. Alan, meet Miri Jamieson, our famous sculptor."

Alan smiled. "Hi, Miri. Famous sculptor, eh?"

She looked up Alan. Fortyish, with sandy-colored hair and a kind face. A nice guy. Not like the rat sitting over there in the corner with his pregnant girlfriend. "Hello, Alan. Abe's exaggerating."

She looked around to check whether Nick was in view and, thankfully he wasn't. It was best Bree didn't know Nick was here or she'd probably go over and give him an earful.

"So what does a duty reporter do at the Atlanta Bar?" Miri asked, trying to look interested.

"We review the guest band, and write about the celebrities."

"You want another margarita, Bree?" Not waiting for an answer, Miri signaled the barkeep for two more.

Bree propped her elbows on the bar and rested her chin in her hands. "Pity that Marcus had to go, but there are plenty of hot men here." She leaned in close to Miri. "Don't look now, but at three o'clock, there's one fine cowboy looking at you."

Miri was happy not to look. "No hook-ups."

"Aw, shucks, cowgirl," Bree drawled. "He's cute. Just take a look."

"No! I'm celibate now," Miri declared stupidly, finishing her margarita.

Bree made a loud snort. "Jeez, Miss League of Decency, you don't have to lay him, just smile at him. Haven't you noticed? There are men everywhere looking at you."

"Don't be silly. Smiling leads to other things. Another strawberry thingy, please, bartender."

Bree giggled and pushed her glass next to Miri's. "Make that two."

The bartender grinned at them as he mixed their drinks. "You two be careful with those. They'll leave you legless."

Miri stared at his name badge. "Thanks, Jerry." She raised her glass. "Here's to legless women, Jerry," she toasted, downing the lot and suddenly aware that Jerry had gone out of focus.

"Miri."

His deep, instantly recognizable voice caught her just as she lowered her glass. Surely he wouldn't be so tactless to talk to her with his girlfriend there. Miri's first instinct was to pretend she hadn't heard him, but when she looked to her left, Bree was gaping at Nick and, when she looked to her right, Alan and Abe were looking as well. Miri considered sliding off her stool and walking away, but attempting a straight line on one too many margaritas was sure to fail.

She turned.

Oh, God, he looked good. Under the lights, his eyes were dark pools. A woman could drown in those pools. She had.

Miri worked up a fake smile. "Hey, Nick. You havin' a good night?"

Nick dipped his head in a nod. "Yeah." His eyes coasted down her body, and Miri felt it in a heartbeat. The familiar ache of desire. This was the last thing she needed.

"We're just on our way out," Nick said, watching her with an unidentifiable expression.

Miri shrugged and turned back to face the bar. "Then you'd better go."

Alan cleared his throat. "Hi, I'm Alan Petersen from the Chronicle. Aren't you the guy who bought the old mill? And now there's an injunction on pulling it down?"

"Yeah, that's me. Except the injunction was lifted two hours ago."

Miri swung round, nearly tipping off her stool. Grabbing Bree's arm for support, she blinked her vision into focus. "Thanks for the news. Now you can get back to your date. I hear your hotel suite is a good place to take dates," she snickered, staring straight ahead at the metal buttons on his denim shirt.

"She's... "

Miri wasn't about to give him time to introduce his girlfriend. How rude. She leaned forward and finger-stabbed his chest. "No need to explain. You know what you are? You're a rat. A big rat with a nice ass. And I don't give a rat's ass for you." She giggled at her joke. "Don't you have a building to pull down? Time's a-wasting, ya know."

Nick's brow went up. "You're drunk."

Miri shook her head so hard the room spun. "I am not!" Holding on to Bree's arm again, she leaned back on her stool. "We're just having a co—couple of cocktails, aren't we, Bree?"

"Absolutely," confirmed Bree with a burp. "Nick, you need to understand something here. This is the enemy camp, and you're in it!"

Nick turned to Abe. "How are you going to get these two home?"

Miri hiccuped. "None of your business, Rat Nick. You know," she continued with another hiccup, "Marcus is so nice. What a pity he had to leave. He's a doctor, you know."

"You should have gone with him," Nick said coolly.

Miri waved her empty glass in the air. "Mind yo—your own business, Rat Nick."

Abe sighed and shook his head apologetically. "Under the circumstances, Nick, you'd better go. We'll be fine."

"Those two don't look fine."

How dare the rat assume she wasn't fine. She was terrific. She just needed another drink. Focusing on Jerry, Miri tried to wink at him, but her eyelid wouldn't work. "Two berries, Jerry..." She paused to organize her words, determined to have another drink even if it meant climbing over the bar and helping herself. "Two pink...you know what I mean, don't you? Would you be my boyfriend, Jerry?"

"You've both had enough," growled Abe from behind her.

"Abe's gone all caveman tonight," giggled Bree, standing to wrap her arms around his neck. "I get so horny when he's like this."

Abe pulled her arms from his neck. "Damn it, Bree, we're leaving before you get even more embarrassing." He turned to Jerry. "Can you call us a cab?"

Alan cleared his throat again. "No need. I'll drive you folks home. Being the duty reporter means no alcohol."

Miri looked up at Alan's kind face. "Thanks, Alan, you're a real gent—gentleman. Not like the rat.

She glared resentfully at Nick, hating herself for her embarrassing behavior and hating him for her jealousy. He'd ruined everything. Her pre-Nick life hadn't added up to much romantically, but then, how could she miss what she'd never had? Her art had filled her days. Now she couldn't even claim to be back to square one. She was so far beyond square one, she needed a total reset.

She felt the first prick of tears. "Go away."

"Nick, is everything all right?" Nick's girlfriend stepped forward, and Miri's eyes darted to her round belly. She had to be around five months.

"Everything's fine, Cate. Meet Miri, Bree, Abe, and Alan. This is my sister, Catherine. She's staying in Charmford for a few days."

In the face of Catherine's charming smile, Miri's brain and body froze, except for her mouth, which she could feel hanging open like one of those sideshow clowns that people throw balls into. Focusing with difficulty on Cate, she could see the resemblance. The woman was obviously genetically blessed like her brother. Tall, runway-model cheekbones, dark hair in a short glossy bob.

Catherine smiled. "Yes, Charmford is lovely. I envy you living in such a beautiful town." She turned to give Miri a warm smile. "I saw your Sins exhibition in New York, Miri. Wonderful work."

"Th—thank you." Miri tried to get her eyes to focus on Nick to read his reaction, but she couldn't interpret his flinty stare through her haze. What was he thinking? That she was one big shameful screw-up, no doubt.

Tears fell in sympathy with her self-pity. Slipping off her stool and praying for stability, she only just managed to avoid falling as she groped for her bag and turned to Abe with wet, pleading eyes. "Can we go?".

Abe was clearly furious with both her and Bree, but he paid the tab, slipped an arm around each of them and growled, "right, Alan, lead the way."

Alan nodded and grabbed his jacket. "Good to meet you Nick, but I can't say I approve of your company pulling down the mill."

"So noted. Take it easy, you guys."

Miri kept her head down as Abe escorted them through the crowd. Never in her life had she been so pleased to hear the electronic chirrup of a car unlocking. Crawling gratefully into the back seat alongside Bree, she closed her eyes.

"You girls better not throw up in Alan's car," warned Abe from the front.

"Nah, we're fine," Bree said with a loud burp. "Mademoiselle here has gone to sleep."

Miri stirred briefly, closed her eyes again, and thought about the rat's ass all the way home. 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Hangover Hotel."

"Abe?"

"Yeah. Oh, Nick. You'll be wanting to talk to Miri."

"How's her head?"

"She's holding it, so I guess it's hurting. I'll put her on."

Nick heard the phone being put down, followed by Miri's sleepy voice in the background. "Who is it?"

"You know who it is."

"I don't want to talk to him."

"Then tell him."

"You tell him. Pleeease."

"No, this is your mess."

"I'll get you for this, Abe Bryant. Hello," came Miri's grumpy voice into the phone.

"It's the rat."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to meet me today."

"I'm busy."

"Chicken busy?"

"No! We have nothing to talk about!"

Nick sighed, picturing her sitting at her kitchen table with her sore head and running hot on morning-after embarrassment. "I'm flying to London tomorrow. I want to talk to you before I leave."

Silence, then Bree's loud voice in the background. "Any acetaminophen left?

"Shh, in the drawer over there," Miri said irritably. "Why can't you tell me now?"

"I'd like to talk to you in person," Nick answered patiently.

"Why?"

"Meet me and find out."

"No." Silence again, then a few seconds later, "is it important?"

"It is."

"Well, all right, but it will have to be this afternoon."

At last some progress. "Where would you like to meet?"

"The mill."

"Are you sure? What about somewhere more comfortable like the Round Bean where you can have a coffee for your hangover?"

"I'm not hungover!" she retorted. Nick heard laughter in the background. "It has to be the mill so I can see it before you tear it down."

"If you insist," Nick said, blowing a breath. "I'll pick you up at...say, three?"

"I'll meet you there," came the curt response.

"Right, three o'clock."

Nick put his phone down and stared into his cold coffee. He shouldn't be surprised by anything Miri said or did, but Margarita Miri definitely exceeded anything even he could have imagined. That and calling him a rat. Quaint. He'd been called a heartless bastard a few times, but never a rat. If the situation hadn't been so damned difficult, it would have been funny, although Miri wouldn't be doing much laughing today. She'd be nursing the mother of all hangovers and probably hit him again. A gifted, temperamental, pain-in-the-ass woman who wore her heart on her sleeve. All along, he'd known she'd be work but it hadn't stopped him. He'd gone soft in the head.

"Good morning, brother. Mind if I join you for breakfast?"

Nick looked up to see Cate standing by his table. "Sure. I thought you intended to rest this morning."

"I'm going to spend the day checking out Charmford's antique stores. Would you like to come along, or are you planning on sitting in the Endeavour's restaurant all day? That coffee looks stewed."

Nick grimaced at the thought of antiquing. "No, sorry, I can't. Full day."

Cate signaled the waiter, slid into the chair opposite Nick, and ordered tea. "Charmford is beautiful. It's no wonder you've stayed on." She gave him an inquisitive look. "Or is it something else?"

"Yeah, the sailing."

"But you haven't been sailing. I still can't believe you know Miri Jamieson. She called you a rat. How cute. Why?"

"Just something to do with me being the biggest bastard on the planet," he answered dryly.

Cate's eyes danced with merriment. "But you're used to that, surely? What rattish thing did you do to her?"

Nick waited while the waiter served her tea. "Nothing much. Just prevented her from buying a building."

"Oh, is that all?" she laughed. "I can see she's got to you. Something you want to talk about?"

He watched his sister stirring her tea, her face bright with anticipation. She was in one of her nosy moods. Nick had long since made it a rule never to discuss his personal life with Cate, but that never stopped her probing in the vain hope that he would let something slip.

"There's nothing to talk about," he said. "Except it's a mess."

"I'm sorry," she said, suddenly serious. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He wasn't falling for that one. "Not a thing. Anyway, I'm driving to New York tomorrow morning to catch a flight to London. Will you be staying on?"

"Another day to check out the galleries along the coast. The whole area is an art lover's dream. No wonder your Miri lives here."

Nick ignored the bait and stood, dropping a kiss on the top of his sister's head. "Well, enjoy your day. I'll see you tonight for dinner."

Cate smiled warmly up at him. "I will. If you've made up with the lovely Ms. Jamieson by then, bring her along. I'd like to talk to her."

"So would I."

Except somehow he doubted the lovely Ms. Jamieson would be up for anything close to rational conversation.

• • •

Miri parked her Volkswagen next to Nick's BMW right on three o'clock, now wishing she'd met him at the Round Bean. With the building's façade gone, the mill looked as cheerless as she felt. It was as though the place knew it was doomed.

She walked up the steps, resolving to give Nick ten minutes of her time and not a second more. As she stood in the doorway, her phone beeped with an incoming text. A dinner invitation from Marcus. Miri shoved the phone back in her bag, feeling nauseous at the thought of food.

Walking down the passage, she heard a faint noise coming from the back of the building. She found Nick in the cafeteria, filling a French press with boiling water.

"Want coffee?" he asked without looking around.

"I don't need coffee."

Nick turned to sweep his gaze over her pink floral sundress and blue flip-flops. "You look nice."

"I didn't dress for your benefit," she sniped. She flicked a resentful look at him. As usual, he looked good enough to eat. Faded jeans and a baby-blue shirt that set off his tan to perfection. Why did her idiot body have to make such a fuss when it came within ten feet of him? It was all his fault.

Slinging her bag on the floor, she sat down at the only upright table in the room. Except for the table and two chairs, the rest of the furniture was stacked along one wall.

Nick sat in the chair opposite and pushed a mug of coffee toward her. "You'll need this."

"No, I don't," she argued. "I was only a little tipsy."

He grinned. "Tipsy? You were hammered. You shouldn't drink if you can't handle it."

Cocky jerk. "Don't lecture me. Anyway, what do you want to talk about? Whatever it is, please get on with it. I have things to do." Okay, she wasn't at her most gracious, and if he kicked her out, it would be a good thing. She was all hot and bothered, and not in a good way.

Nick looked at her quietly. "The building has to come down. There is nothing I can do about it. I wanted you to hear it from me."

"How did you manage to get the injunction lifted?"

"There's no proof we were involved." When she snorted, he added, "we didn't do this, Miri. If anyone knew the bids in advance, it wasn't us."

"So you say..." Miri paused, her thoughts turning to Alex. Alex had texted her with the news this morning and mentioned a Plan B, whatever that was. Miri hoped there'd be no Plan B. Plan A had been a spectacular failure.

"I hope Alex is okay," she muttered looking down at her coffee while she thought. Of course, Alex would be fine. Alex was tougher than one of her ten carat diamonds. She looked up to find Nick staring at her as if she'd suddenly grown an extra limb.

"Are you serious?! After what she's done, that's all you can say?!

Miri sat herself straight. "I'm concerned about her, that's all. Are you still going to sue her?"

"Damned right I am."

"Why?! It's over and done with, and you won."

Nick's brow lifted in astonishment. "Like hell it's over. The allegation alone will affect our reputation. You just don't get it, do you?"

"Don't talk to me like that! Everything's your fault anyway." What she meant by that she didn't know, but she couldn't think straight with him glaring at her.

When his eyes flashed with annoyance, she braced herself for his next insult. "You still think I was involved, don't you? God, you're so damned stubborn!"

"It's you who's stubborn!" Miri fired back, then flushed at her silly retort. She bent down and pulled her keys from her bag. "Anyway, I've had enough of this. I'm leaving!"

"Typical! Flounce off in a fucking temper."

Dizziness swept her as she sat up with a jerk. "You—you prat!" She expected him to laugh, but he just sat there, his face like stone.

"Come here, Marisa."

She blinked at his command. "No."

"Come here, or I'll come and get you."

Something in his tone told her he meant it, yet something in her body told her to call his bluff. To make him come and get her and...

Miri turned her head to hide her scarlet face.

"What are you so scared of?" His voice softened a fraction, but still held the hardness that had her aching for him. "Now come here!"

Miri told herself she didn't want him, and he could go straight to hell. But somehow she found herself on her feet, walking obediently around the table to stand in front of him, her knees bumping his. "Well, I'm here," she muttered like a sulky teenager.

"I should have known why you wanted to meet here."

Surprise popped her mouth open. "I—I came here for one last look."

"I think you came here for another reason."

"What reason?" she answered, genuinely confused. His expression was so severe, Miri wondered if he was about to throw her out of the building.

"Hell, woman, if you wanted to be alone with me, why didn't you just say so? All this stupid pretense."

She gaped at him. "No...I didn't...I don't want to be alone with you," she stammered, knowing that he didn't believe her. Why would he, when her whole body ached with so much need she could barely stand up.

When Nick pulled her forward between his knees and gripped the backs of her thighs, she moaned at the rising heat between her legs.

"Oh, I think you do." His eyes bored into hers, and Miri knew she was lost.

He slid his hands up under her dress, his fingers spreading over her hips. "In fact, I'll bet your pussy is aching for me right now." He slipped his hands around her butt and jerked her so hard toward him, she had to grab his shoulders to stay upright.

So vulgar. So wet-making. "You're arrogant and conceited and—and crude!"

He laughed. "Is that so?" He stood and lifted her effortlessly into his arms. Miri shuddered under his easy strength as he carried her out of the cafeteria, through the mill's large production area to a doorway at the rear of the building.

"This is the only room with any privacy," he explained, striding inside and kicking the door closed. He jiggled her in his arms as if weighing nothing heavier than a two-pound parcel for postage. "Yeah, you'll do nicely."

For what? Miri glanced around at the small office. The old dust-covered desk and the high window with its tattered curtain didn't exactly make for a love nest.

"I will not do nicely, and you can put me down now," she said primly. No way was she going to give in without the show of a fight. "Anyway, someone might come."

Nick cocked an eyebrow. "That is the general idea."

Oh, the thought. When he kissed her, Miri tried to keep her head, but she found herself kissing him back. So much for her fight.

Nick pulled back to look at her with serious eyes. "You know this arguing has to stop, don't you?"

She did know. "Nick, I'm sorry for not believing you. I know you're innocent."

"Innocent!" He laughed. Really laughed. "Jesus, I haven't been told that since I was sixteen. How's your hangover?"

She tried to look serious, but her mouth curved up. "Gone."

His grin was mischievous, lopsided, and very wolfish. "Good. Because it's time we got busy."

Miri nuzzled his neck. How she loved his neck.

"It'll have to be the desk," Nick said, setting her down with a plunk. He pushed her legs apart and put his hips between. Miri's flip-flops clattered to the floor as she wriggled herself against the bulging seam of his jeans, her fingers reaching for his shirt buttons. Nick was already ahead of her, untying the spaghetti straps of her sundress and bending her back over his arm in one easy movement.

With a low growl, he pulled the top of her dress down and slid his mouth over a nipple. Miri bucked against the sudden pleasure, then lifted her head to watch his tongue swirling around the hard peak.

"Nick...I want..." she panted, but Nick's mouth was on hers, his tongue demanding all her attention.

When he finally raised his head, Miri had clean forgotten what she wanted. She just did what now came so naturally with Nick. She kissed and tasted him wherever she could reach, drowning in the pleasure of his hands and mouth until she couldn't take being primed for another moment.

"Please...now..."

With a soft laugh, Nick lifted her above the desk with one arm and dragged her panties down her thighs with his free hand. Miri heard stitches popping in protest as he ripped them clear off her body and tossed them aside. Before she even had time to see where they'd gone, her dress was up around her waist and his hand was between her legs. Miri hitched her breath as a finger grazed across her clit, then worked into her, claiming her body. He slid in a second, then held still, his thumb resting on her clit, frustratingly inert.

"You're very wet," he murmured, his mouth brushing against hers.

Miri could only whimper her agreement. Her brain had stopped functioning, and her whole body ached for release. She rotated her hips against his fingers. He was so maddeningly uncooperative. Teasing her on this, of all occasions. Only a little effort on his part, and she'd explode like a round of ammo.

Miri held her breath and forced her body to complete stillness. When his fingers began to move inside her and his thumb slowly stroked her clit, she sobbed out loud with relief. So good. She desperately wanted to look down to watch his hand on her, but if she did, he might stop. Torment her again.

He studied her face. "You're close."

Oh, yes, she was seconds close. Feeling Nick's fingers working faster, Miri let her head fall back, forcing herself not to move as he softly spoke her name and took her higher and higher. Only when her climax broke did she flex her hips to drive herself against his fingers, each wave of ecstasy wrenching a deep shudder from her body.

Miri had only just lifted her head when Nick withdrew his hand and shoved it into his jeans pocket to retrieve a condom. He'd known this would happen and, if she was being totally honest with herself, she'd wanted nothing else but to be in his arms again.

She watched him tear the wrapper with his teeth, using his free hand to work on the button and zipper of his jeans. Miri pulled her sundress off, then started on Nick's shirt buttons. Five seconds for her to get his shirt open and pushed from his shoulders, and for Nick to have his jeans and briefs at his knees. Miri looked down, shivering in delight at his size.

"Hell," Nick snarled, fumbling as he tried to roll on the condom. "Fucking thing."

Lord, what a glorious picture of concentration he made, his face grimaced in frustration. "Would you like me to help?"

Not that she'd ever fitted a condom, but she was happy to learn. Except it was too late as he had it on and was pulling her to him. He pushed into her so hard it made her gasp. It felt as if every molecule of air had been knocked out of her body.

He stopped, his eyes frantic with worry. "Sweetheart, have I hurt you? Jesus, I'm too rough and you're...little."

Miri certainly felt little with him filling her to the hilt. "Keep going...I want it hard," she said bravely, not even sure she could take it hard. She was desperate for this. Desperate for Nick. Putting her hands behind her on the desk, she braced herself.

Nick grunted in approval, slid an arm around her waist and thrust into her, pushing her back against his arm with every powerful stroke.

Starved of each other's bodies, they didn't take long. Nick's arm went under her butt to lift her clear of the desk as Miri secured her legs more tightly around his hips, buried her face in his neck, and felt another orgasm sweep her.

"I'm right behind you, babe," he rasped into her hair, one hand braced on the desk as he shuddered against her.

Miri was on a cloud somewhere, and if it wasn't for Nick's arms holding her, she would float away.

His deep voice brought her back. "Okay?"

"Hm-hmm. You're so deliciously rough," she puffed into his neck, trying to calm her erratic breathing.

He gently sat her back down on the desk, their bodies still joined. "The need of a desperate man. Miri, I want you to listen to me for a minute."

Listen? She was too full of him to even think, let alone listen. "Mmm...what?" She worked her hand down to trace her fingers over the base of his length. "So gorgeous...go on."

He groaned and nudged her chin up with his forefinger. "No more of this damned roller coaster thing. We have to do this right."

"No more roller coaster," Miri murmured. Looping her arms around his neck, she looked at him seriously. "You know you've ruined my knickers, don't you?"

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'll buy you new ones, Ms. Jamieson. Strong cotton things with reinforcing."

"Nick," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

She pressed her lips to his. "You're still hard."

He gave a small laugh into her mouth. "I haven't finished with you yet."

Miri didn't want him to leave her, but when he pulled out to remove the condom, she leaned back to watch him step out of his jeans and briefs and kick them aside. His eyes said he was going to torment her again. Oh, she was so greedy for him.

Flipping her legs up, he laid her along the desk. Miri shivered in excitement. "What are you...?" she started to ask, but he shook his head.

"Wait and see. Close your eyes."

Miri closed her eyes, and waited. What was he doing? Whatever it was, he was taking his sweet time. So cruel. She was about to sit up when she felt his big hands spreading her knees wide. With her legs dangling over the sides of the desk, and knowing she was fully exposed to him, Miri was almost senseless with excitement.

She felt Nick's fingers sweep across her belly, then move away. Endless seconds later, she was pulled forward, her backside almost off the end of the desk. She moaned her need, and with a soft laugh, Nick lifted her legs over his shoulders and buried his mouth in her.

Oh, God, that mouth was a finely tuned instrument. Miri dug her heels into his back, stretched and curled her toes and writhed as he skillfully worked his tongue in and over every part of her sex with unrelenting precision.

Pushing herself onto her elbows, she watched his dark head moving between her legs, his strong hands holding her hips steady to his mouth. He lifted his head to look briefly into her eyes, then dove into her again.

"Yes...yes," she urged as he concentrated on her over-sensitive clit, making her fall back on the desk, too weak to move. That night at the Endeavour she'd been so nervous at the thought of his mouth on her. Now Nick could lay her out in the mill's parking lot for all her nerves would care. Right now, he was making her mindless with ecstasy and another orgasm was coming. She panted his name as she climaxed, rolling her hips into the blissful, pulsating tide.

Miri was still stretched out and struggling to slow her breathing when she heard the rustle of the condom wrapper. Wrenching herself upright, she reached for him, wanting to pleasure him the way she knew he loved. "Don't put it on..."

He kissed her gently. "Next time. Right now I really need to fuck you again."

With that no-frills comment, Nick positioned her on the desk, took himself in hand, and was about to satisfy both their needs again when his phone hummed.

"Hell," he cursed. "Don't move a muscle. I'll turn it off."

He bent to pull his phone from his jeans, glancing at the display as he straightened. Miri caught her breath as his expression hardened. Then her blood turned to ice. "Nick, what is it?"

He stared at his phone as if mesmerized, then looked up at her, his eyes blazing in fury. "That bitch has told the Spanway Bridge owners that we cheated on a sealed bid."

Alex had executed her Plan B.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Miri stared suspiciously at the front door of Jimmy Bob's. "Here?"

Marcus grinned as he pulled open the door and waved her in. "Shall we?"

"I guess," she said doubtfully. Marcus bringing her to the town's Irish bar, which had seen better days, was too much to fathom. In his Prada business suit, he stood out like a sore thumb and she didn't exactly go with the ambiance. An invitation from Marcus for lunch naturally meant the country club so she'd worn a smart skirt, jacket and heels.

Confused, Miri stepped inside. The stream of sunlight from the doorway had every patron in the bar turning to look. Some returned to their beers. A couple snickered. The rest just stared in wonder. Miri was beginning to wonder if Marcus had lost his sanity.

Steering her to a corner table, he politely pulled out a chair for her, while the patrons gawked. "Two lagers please, miss," he said in the direction of a gum-chewing waitress behind the bar, who looked up and stopped chewing at the sight of the suit.

Miss? Miri sighed.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I thought we were going somewhere more formal for lunch." Somewhere more Dr. Carter and, quite frankly, somewhere that served quiche and espresso con panna. She wondered if it would be too rude to say so. "I don't think this place does meals."

Before Miri could suggest they relocate to the Round Bean, half a block away, the waitress was at their table and slapping two of Jimmy Bob's beers down in front of them. Resting a hand on a denimed hip, she stared at Marcus as if he'd just dropped in from Pluto.

"No meals," the waitress chewed, "but we do bar nuts and stuff."

"Thank you, miss. We won't be eating."

With a shake of her head, the waitress sauntered away, while Miri shook her own head. Something was definitely up.

Marcus raised his glass, looking, for all the world, like the cat that had just eaten the family canary. "Here's to Jimmy Bob's. Isn't it perfect?"

Miri raised her glass obligingly, damned sure it wasn't perfect. She glanced around the bar. The waitress was back at her station, chewing vigorously and watching the suit, while a couple of regulars were smirking as if Marcus was Jimmy Bob's new entertainment.

"Perfect for what?" Miri asked, tasting her beer. At least it was good.

Marcus sipped and wiped foam from his lip. "Your new studio and gallery." He laughed as her eyebrows went up. "My investment advisor told me the owners are relocating and are looking for a quick sale. It's perfect for your needs and right in the center of town."

For the first time since Nick's abrupt departure six weeks ago, Miri felt a twinge of something that she dimly recognized as excitement.

Looking around the bar with renewed interest, she absorbed the layout, taking in every detail from floor to ceiling. The main bar was certainly spacious enough for a gallery and with the building being two storied, a section of the ceiling could be removed to accommodate her sculptures. The door behind the bar probably led to an office, so that would be useful.

"The thing is," Marcus went on, still grinning, "because the interior is so dilapidated, the place will probably sell for half of what it would normally go for."

Miri turned her beer glass around and around on its coaster, working her way through the idea. Of course the building wasn't picturesque like the mill, and there wasn't enough room for a café or an outdoor seating area. On the other hand, the location was perfect, and with proper renovation, the place could be made very pretty. There were fewer parking spaces than the mill, but that wasn't really a problem.

The silliness of her reasoning hit Miri with a jolt. She was making comparisons as if the mill was still an option. It was gone. It might be still standing in the middle of its weed-infested grounds and killer potholes, but for all intents and purposes, it was gone.

Taking another look around the bar, she turned back to Marcus, laughing at his beaming face. "Yes, this could do."

A relieved smile creased his cheeks. He punched the air like he'd just scored a home run, causing a few laughs from the bar. "You could be up and running in a few months." He grabbed her hand and squeezed. "It will make up for the mill. You've been so unhappy."

Miri tried to leave her hand in his but found herself pulling it away to scratch a fake itch on her neck. "I know you've been worried, Marcus, but I'm fine. Really, I am."

Her tone lacked conviction but her unhappiness wasn't up for discussion. She had relived that last day with Nick over and over and the pain hadn't eased. After Nick had taken the call, he'd turned to stone. No words, no emotion except for the hard flash of disgust in his eyes when she'd tried to defend Alex.

Miri pressed a hand to her forehead, the memory as raw as a physical ache. Her standing by the desk, trying to retie the straps of her sundress, her hands shaking while Nick watched her in angry silence. She'd picked up her ruined panties and followed him down the passage to the cafeteria to collect her bag. Things hadn't improved in the parking lot. After locking the building, Nick had walked straight to his car and driven away. Just left her on the mill's steps. She'd made it to her car before breaking down. How long she'd sat there, she didn't know. It had been a call from Bree that had finally got her moving, asking if she would be home later for Abe's hangover-busting chicken noodle soup.

Six weeks on, and not a word from Nick. Her only comfort was that she hadn't fallen in love with him, or so she constantly told herself. What they'd had was sex. Sex like she'd never known. Sex that could still send sparks of need rippling along her skin, just from a memory.

Looking up, Marcus was staring at her expectantly. "Oh, sorry, Marcus, I was miles away. I'll talk to my lawyer. Of course, there are heaps of things to consider."

"Yes, but I'm sure this is the right place. Perhaps you could talk to Alex. I know she would want to help."

Miri raised a hand in warning. "Absolutely not! Don't you dare say anything to her."

Her furious confrontation with Alex had been next to useless. Miri might as well have been lecturing Alex on the benefits of recycling her champagne bottles for all the good it had done. After all, Alex insisted, the Spanway Bridge owners deserved to know the truth. As if that was her real motivation. It was calculated revenge. Nick had beaten her over the injunction, and that had to have hurt. Worse, he'd reduced her to a red-faced, flummoxed amateur in her own office. The place where she ate businessmen for breakfast. Unforgivable.

"I'm sorry, Miri. What's she done this time?"

Miri let out an angry snort. "She told one of Nick's clients that Brannagh's cheated on a sealed bid. Alex said they're suing her."

"Fuck!"

Miri sat back in astonishment. Marcus had never so much as said 'hell' in front of her. "Yes, she shouldn't have done it."

Marcus leaned forward, anguish in his eyes. "If only Alex hadn't done that?"

"My thoughts exactly," Miri agreed, wondering why he was so concerned about Alex.

When he frowned into his beer, shaking his head back and forth, she really began to worry. "You okay, Marcus? It's just Alex being Alex, you know."

Marcus put his head in his hands. "Damn, damn...damn Bob Lockart."

Confused, Miri racked her brain, trying to make the connection. "Lockart? That's the construction company that built your medical center."

"Yeah." Marcus pressed a thumb and forefinger to his eyes. "If only Alex had stayed out of it."

"What has Alex got to do with Lockart Construction?" She put a hand on his arm. "What's wrong? Is there something...?"

He laughed bitterly through her words. "I can't let this go on. It'll ruin Alex and it'll probably come out sooner or later, anyway."

Miri tightened her grip, feeling her blood cool. "Tell me, Marcus."

"How can I say it? It wasn't Brannagh's who knew the bids in advance. It was Bob Lockart...and me."

"Oh, God," she breathed through a sudden dizziness. "Marcus, what did you do?" When he didn't answer, Miri tugged at his suit sleeve. "Tell me everything."

Marcus took a deep breath and stared at her numbly. "I met with Bob the morning of the sealed bid deadline. The meeting was to discuss the fit-out of the medical center's offices, but I asked him if he knew anything about the sale of the mill. Out of the blue he told me he knew the other bidders' offers. I don't know how he got them, but somehow he had. Anyway, it seemed an opportunity..."

He stopped. Miri's stomach churned with dread, but she urged him on with another fierce tug at his sleeve.

"So I, uh, asked him if your bid was the highest. He said Brannagh Enterprises had it." Marcus' words slowed. "I—I asked him to put in the highest bid and then after it had all gone through, onsell the mill to you. He said he would. After all, I'd saved his boy's life a couple of years ago. Heart surgery."

This couldn't be real. "Marcus..."

"Except, for some reason, Bob didn't go through with it," Marcus said miserably. "It seemed everything would be okay. All the bids were legal. But then Alex found out there'd been a leak before the deadline. She assumed Brannagh Enterprises was behind it."

Miri sat very still as the implication of Marcus' words sank in. "I accused Nick of cheating. You said nothing. You let Alex take out an injunction and still said nothing."

His hands made fists on the table. "I couldn't say anything, don't you understand? I had my practise to consider and I would've lost you."

"Oh, dear Lord."

When Marcus tried to take her hand, Miri snatched it away, almost knocking over her glass.

"Please, Miri, try to understand. Everything was at stake. I've loved you from the moment I first saw you all those years ago. Do you remember that day? You came to the hospital with your father." His face twisted in a flash of hatred. "Brannagh didn't care for you but I care. I've waited. We could be so happy. Marriage. A family."

Miri had to bite back the urge to scream at him. "You did all this because you thought we'd be married?" she whispered through clenched teeth.

"Of course, it would take time for you to love me," Marcus said, reaching for her. "But there's no need to rush."

Miri pushed to her feet. "I have to call Alex. This lie can't go on."

Marcus stood and took out his wallet. "I'll drive you home."

That gave her impetus enough to move. "No!"

Her shout turned every head in the place. Miri watched in humiliation as a beefy patron in a baseball cap climbed off his stool and advanced toward them. "Is he bothering you?"

Miri looked around at the faces staring at them. For a moment she was tempted to say she was bothered. Very bothered. But the thought of Marcus being thrown out of the place or worse, punched, seemed too cruel. "I'm fine," she answered weakly, waving a reassuring hand when the man looked unconvinced.

With a glare at Marcus, he walked back to his stool.

"Nothing like a floor show," said the waitress between chews.

More like a freak show, Miri noted sourly. How ridiculous she and Marcus must look to them. Well, it was true. They were ridiculous. Totally out of place. In every way.

She left Marcus slumped in his chair.

Walking out into the bright afternoon sunshine, Miri stood on the sidewalk, taking in the everyday sounds of the street. A beautiful summer's day, but she felt cold. Cold and desperate to put things right.

It took almost twenty minutes to find a cab to take her home. By then, she had texted Alex with the truth. Alex would be shocked, but only for as long as it took to call her attorney. Miri felt little sympathy for Alex. She deserved to pay for her vindictiveness, but Nick didn't deserve any of this.

Sitting in the back of the cab, Miri felt ill with grief, whispering his name over and over, seeking comfort in the sound but finding only guilt. The lives of people she cared about had been ruined because of her dream.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Nick, your sister is here."

Nick looked up from his laptop. "Thanks, Amy. Give me two minutes and then show her in. Oh, a coffee for me, and check what Cate wants."

He leaned back in his chair. Back-to-back financial meetings all morning and lack of sleep, had him tired and on edge. The loss of the $70 million Spanway contract had put a major dent in the half-year forecast and if his lawyers couldn't get Alexandra Olivet to retract her allegation in the next day or so, other contracts were at risk.

Swiveling his chair to face the window, he stared down at the mist shrouding the city. From the sixteenth floor, the Thames was barely visible. Two weeks of constant drizzle over London, but he had no complaints. The weather pretty much matched his disposition.

Nick turned as the door opened. As usual, Cate looked stunning, but with the extra radiance of pregnancy. He walked around his desk and hugged his sister, mostly pleased to see her, despite knowing the reason for her visit.

"I'm glad to see it arrived," she said, her eyes drifting to the corner behind the door. "But surely it should be in your apartment, considering all the action that goes on there."

Nick resumed his seat. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

She chortled, shrugged off her coat and sank into the chair opposite his desk. "It came up for auction in Edmonton so I put in an anonymous bid. Apparently the previous owner was an eighty-five year old investment collector. Too much for the old boy, perhaps? Do you like it?"

Nick stared moodily at the work. What wasn't to like? It was spectacular. Miri's sculpture of Lust, one of her 'seven deadly sins' works that she'd talked about that day in the café. Six feet of gleaming steel featuring two embracing nude figures, with the title and Miri's name etched on a small plaque at the base.

Delicate. Graceful. Sensual. Like the woman who created it. "You shouldn't have bought it."

He meant it. It might be magnificent, but he wasn't up for the constant reminder. Not in his office and definitely not in his apartment.

Cate patted her rain-dampened hair. "It was a pleasure. The bidding was fierce, of course, but I couldn't resist. Her work has skyrocketed in value. The Circle of Life is on the cover of Sculpture Quarterly, and anyone and everyone who matters in the sculpting world is talking about Marisa Jamieson." Cate's eyes rounded coaxingly. "Have you spoken to her recently?"

Nick frowned his warning. "Stay out of it, Cate."

Not that he hadn't wanted to call Miri. Every other day he'd dialed her mobile, only to end the call before it connected. He'd even booked a flight to New York, but canceled at the last minute. His company was under threat, he worked eighteen-hour days, and he was generally pissed at the world. He had nothing to offer her.

Cate sneezed into a tissue, interrupting his thoughts. "I hope I'm not getting a cold. What about that building she wanted? Is it still standing?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why?"

"The project's on hold," Nick answered vaguely. He suspected the developer wanted out of the deal altogether. With the town's opposition to the demolition, an apartment complex could be a real estate disaster.

"Why don't you just give the place to her?" Cate suggested with wide, innocent eyes.

Nick stifled a sigh. "Where is all this going?"

"What happened?"

"I told you," he answered impatiently, wishing he'd put a stop to this earlier. "Alexandra Olivet claimed we cheated on a sealed bid. Miri believed her. Probably still does."

"And did you?"

"Jesus, of course not."

"What about that site manager you talk about?" She waved a hand. "You know, Pete somebody or other? Maybe he did it?"

"Don't you think I had Fitz checked out? Made me feel like a fucking traitor."

"I wish you wouldn't swear," Cate sniffed. "Anyway, have you told her all this?"

Nick sat back, struggling to conceal his exasperation. "Of course, for all the good it did. Why are you interested, anyway?"

"Because she's the first woman you've ever really cared about. That night in the bar, I saw the way you looked at her. I presume you two have been to bed."

"That's not something for a sister to be talking about."

"Has there been anyone else, since her?"

"Stay out of my personal life, Cate," Nick snapped. In fact, no woman had so much as quickened his pulse in the past six weeks, let alone been in his bed. Miri had ruined him for anyone else, which wasn't helping his mood. "Anyway, here's the coffee," Nick said, relieved to see Amy with the tray. Setting it on the desk, she gave Nick an understanding smile on her way out.

"You should go to her," Cate went on, picking up her latte. "You two started off on the wrong foot, that's all. Call her."

"It wouldn't make any difference."

"What would make a difference?"

He glared at her. If she didn't shut up in the next ten seconds, he'd pretend he had a meeting and walk out. "This is none of your damned... " he started to say, then stopped as his sister's eyes pooled with tears. "What the hell?"

"I'm sorry. It's the pregnancy or something. I keep crying over things," Cate mumbled, blowing her nose. "I wish you would talk to me. Not just brush me off like I'm some annoying relative to be tolerated."

"That's not true."

Except it was. He loved her, he admired her business sense. She just annoyed the hell out of him most of the time. It didn't help that they were eleven years apart in age, lived totally different lives, and he was constantly traveling. He'd pretty much forgotten how to be a brother.

"I want to be part of your life, Nick," she sniffled. "Please tell me what went wrong. There has to be more to it."

Nick looked at his red-eyed sister. "Okay, I'll tell you," he said, blowing a slow breath. "From the start, I knew Miri came with complications, and it wasn't just because she wanted that building so badly. She was wary. So wary that just having dinner with me was a big deal. I found out why at that dinner. She'd lost her parents to a drunk driver a couple of years ago. Being so young and with no other family, it would've taken a lot to pick up her life and keep going...to trust her emotions to anyone, let alone someone she barely knew."

He stood and paced to the window, lost in the memory of that night in his hotel suite. Miri had trusted him completely. Emotionally and physically.

"Go on."

"Anyway," he said returning to his seat, "when Alexandra Olivet told her that we'd cheated on buying the mill, that was pretty much it. I was a lying asshole who'd...well, seduced her." He laughed bitterly. "That's how she thought of it. Like I was some old-fashioned cad who'd taken advantage of her. The thing is, the day after you and I were at the Atlanta Bar, I met Miri at the mill. It seemed like things might work out. The injunction had been lifted, she said she believed me. All good."

Nick shifted in his chair. All good didn't come close to how Miri had felt in his arms that day, her little body flush to his, her legs clamped around him.

Nick took a gulp of coffee to distract himself.

"And," Cate prodded, "what happened?"

"When I found out Alexandra Olivet had contacted the Spanway people, Miri defended her. That was the final straw."

"Oh, Nick, I'm so sorry."

He shrugged. "It'll cost Ms. Olivet millions in damages."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant. Look, it's better this way. It wouldn't have worked. I'm not the right guy for her. She's too young and emotional...all drama. I guess it's the artist thing. Hell, how would I know?"

Cate looked at him curiously. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Crying sister or not, he didn't need this. "No," he said, the truth of Cate's words too close for comfort. "Right, what about lunch? I'm buying."

The door swung open, and Amy all but fell into his office. "Nick, a message from the New York attorney. Alexandra Olivet has formally retracted her allegation and apologized. Apparently, the leak was to a local company by the name of Lockart Construction."

Nick made Amy repeat the message twice before shoving to his feet. "Contact the attorney...say we'll continue with the lawsuit for damages and if Ms. Olivet hasn't issued a full retraction to the press by tomorrow afternoon, we'll be doubling the claim." He grabbed his jacket and Cate's coat. "And when you've done that, make a lunch reservation for two at the Dorchester. Tell them we're on our way."

• • •

"Are you awake?"

"No."

"That's good. Otherwise, I'd have to tell you the Widow is downstairs."

Miri groaned and buried her face in her pillow. "Can't you tell her I'm asleep?"

"She wants to see you, my precious," Bree cooed, mimicking Alex."You simply must come downstairs. She's in sweatpants and sneakers. It's so tragic. I'm worried she might...well...do something to herself."

If only. Miri pushed herself up and leaned against the headboard, trying to keep a straight face as Bree sat on the bed, looking pitiful while picking at a loose thread on the comforter.

"Liar. She'll be in designer and as chirpy as a budgie." Miri hadn't seen Alex for weeks, but she still knew it was true. Alex didn't do sweats. Or tragic for that matter. "Okay, give me a few minutes to get dressed. I'm only doing this so you won't be stuck with her for the rest of the day."

Bree bounced upright and headed for the door. "That's the spirit. I'll feed her last night's pizza. She's so damned skinny, a few carbs will do her good."

Listening to Bree running down the stairs, Miri slipped under the comforter again. Alex could wait. She might have apologized to Nick, but that didn't get her off the hook.

The absurdity of the whole thing was that Alex had been right all along. She'd just accused the wrong company and then turned malicious against Nick.

Lockart Construction and Marcus. Who would have thought? She knew nothing about Lockart Construction but she did know Marcus and it still beggared belief that he had been involved. He had done it because he loved her, or so he said. The irony of it all. The Circle of Life was about retaining core values, and Marcus had blown his to hell.

Miri reached for her cell to check her messages, her eyes automatically checking the date. Noon of the forty-third day. Every morning she scolded herself for counting the days. People only counted days when someone had gone away and was expected back. He wasn't coming back. Post-Nick was her life now which meant lying in bed far longer than was good for her. The library commission hadn't been started, despite the client extending the deadline by two months. Still, she was on track to buy Jimmy Bob's, and her lawyer would make the offer tomorrow.

As for romance? That was over. No involvement with anyone until she was at least thirty. That seemed a sensible age to find someone to settle down with. Someone who would be nicely ordinary. He wouldn't be tall and dark-haired and oozing sexy. She was done with tall, dark and sexy.

Of course, he would have to have some sex appeal, but not to the extent that her whole body would tighten with desire every time she looked at him. She didn't need that. He wouldn't have big hands that could distract her with a simple caress or a mouth that worked beautiful magic every time it found hers. No, those heady things she could do without.

Miri pushed herself further under her comforter, suddenly longing for the things she could do without. His mouth. His hands. His...

"Miri!"

"I'm coming!" Miri shouted, kicking back the comforter. Dammit, Bree could scream like a banshee when it suited.

Slipping into cotton shorts and T-shirt, Miri checked herself in the mirror and didn't like what she saw. Bree was right, she was pale and sad-looking. Her hair needed washing and she hadn't shaved her legs in ages. What a difference a few weeks could make to a life.

Scraping her hair into a rough ponytail and securing it with her old scrunchie, she went downstairs to find Alex and Bree sitting either side of the kitchen table, eyeing each other over the pizza.

"There you are, my darling," Alex exclaimed, jumping up with obvious relief. "Oh, you don't look well at all." Alex reached to embrace her, but Miri made a neat sidestep and headed for the coffee machine.

Alex sat down again. "After all this time, I had hoped that we could put this terrible business behind us."

Miri looked at Alex in her pink linen suit and fabulous jewelery. After weeks of being shunned, she was here for forgiveness, although knowing Alex as well as she did, it was difficult to believe the woman was genuinely sorry.

"It is such a shame that all this happened," Alex said, crossing a leg.

Miri snorted. "In your world, a shame is a chipped nail."

Bree giggled and pushed the pizza across the table. "Something to eat?"

Alex stared at the pizza like it was a live grenade. "Don't be ridiculous." Turning to Miri, she made a weak smile. "Of course, I was wrong to accuse Nick Brannagh right off. I do regret that."

Miri studied Alex's face, trying to read the beautiful cornflower-blue eyes. Perhaps she was sorry? "You slandered his company to a major client," she said gently, deciding to give Alex the benefit of the doubt, "I'm sorry he didn't accept your apology, but he did warn you."

"But my dear, it was an honest mistake. Of course, right from the beginning I knew he was all wrong for you. A man like that doesn't care. If he'd cared, he wouldn't have left."

Not sorry at all.

Miri clenched her coffee cup, tamping down the urge to order Alex out of the house. "A man like what?" she snapped. "By the way, how much is he suing you for?" she added spitefully.

Alex's Chanel-blushed cheeks turned a shade brighter. "That's something I can't discuss at the moment." That evasive response could only mean one thing. Nick was suing her for millions. "But my lawyer is very confident of a reasonable settlement."

Alex didn't look anything close to believing that. She was really hurting. A rare sight. Like seeing a comet that wouldn't be back for a hundred years.

Miri sat down and tucked a foot under her butt. "I doubt it will be reasonable. You know you deserve it, don't you?"

Alex looked surprised. "Deserve doesn't come into it, my dear. I was right about the bids. How could I know it was Lockart and...well, that Marcus was involved?" She fidgeted with a loose strand of hair. "Poor Marcus, he feels so terrible about the whole thing. Of course, he's offered to pay the damages, but the poor man won't have anywhere enough to cover it. He only did it because he loves you, so I can forgive him. Maybe in time, my darling, you two can work things out..."

Miri sprang to her feet so fast that Alex reared back in sheer fright. Her eyes rounded in shock when Miri's fist slammed the table. "For God's sake, listen to yourself. You can't stop meddling. You seem to think this whole thing is nothing more than a piece of broken china to be fixed. You slandered Nick to the Spanway people out of pure spite. And for what? Because he got the better of you that day in your office? Because you thought Marcus would make the right husband for me and Nick was in the way? Well, this is the last time you will ever interfere in my life. If you do, you will never be welcome in this house again. Are we clear?!"

Alex looked so stunned that Miri's chest filled with a sudden, terrifying guilt. Alex had been her beloved mother's friend. After the accident, it had been Alex's tireless support that had helped her through the months of despair, had looked after her like a mother hen and arranged her exhibitions. Alex loved her as if she were her own child.

She felt Bree's arm slip around her shoulders. "I'm fine, Bree," she said quietly, hating her cruel words to Alex but knowing she had to say them. This couldn't be put right with Alex. Not for a long time, anyway. "I'm going to take a very long soak in the tub," she said. "Alex, please leave."

Not waiting for a response, Miri walked out to the hall and started for the stairs, pausing when she heard the scrape of a kitchen chair being pushed back, followed by Alex's voice.

"Do you think she'll ever forgive me, Bree?"

"Maybe, after she stops blaming herself." Bree's voice dropped, but the words still carried to Miri's ears. "And after she's forgiven herself for falling in love."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lying in her comfortable garden lounger under the shady, jasmine-covered pergola that ran the length of the studio's outside wall, Miri closed her eyes and absorbed the scents and sounds of summer: the drone of bees on the lavender hedge, the rhythmic swish of Mr. Johnston's water sprinkler and the laughter of children playing in the street.

She felt almost whole again. Fresh from the tub and in her short-shorts and bright red bikini top, her hair hung clean and vanilla-scented around her shoulders and her skin felt silky soft from her favorite body lotion. She hadn't felt this good in...well, a long time.

She opened her eyes to scan the garden. Maybe it wasn't too late to plant a row of petunias. Or do some sketching. Or start on a tan. Maybe she could spend tomorrow at the beach with her sketchbook.

Maybe if she got off her butt, she could start on those rolls of copper sheeting gathering dust on her studio floor. No, work could wait. Besides, it was Sunday afternoon, Alex had long since gone, and if the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen were any indication, Bree was fixing cold drinks and reheating the pizza.

She was almost asleep when she heard the soft click of the studio door opening.

"Hey, sleepyhead, you've got a visitor."

Miri kept her eyes closed, silently praying it wasn't Alex.

"Miri."

She sat up with a jerk, thinking she'd imagined the deep voice. Looking around, he filled the doorway. Dark business suit. A somber expression.

"Nick," she said, blinking in disbelief. "What...?" She stopped, too overcome for words.

"I'm going to Abe's," Bree said. "Do you need anything?"

Miri shook her head.

"I've left the pizza heating in the oven," Bree added with a smile, "and made the lemonade. Call me if you need me."

Without waiting for an answer, Bree closed the door. Miri sat very still, feeling as if she was in a beautiful dream and would wake up at any moment. She watched Nick shrug off his jacket and lay it on the arm of the sofa before walking out to the terrace. His gaze swept the garden before settling on her. Miri's heart tumbled when she saw the strain on his face, the faint lines between his brows deeper than she remembered. She was the cause, yet he was here.

Nick dragged a chair close to hers, his expression concerned as he sat down. "You're pale, Marisa. Far too pale."

"I know, so I'm starting on a tan." She ghosted a smile, but it faded when he didn't laugh. "You look so...businesslike."

"I arrived in New York this afternoon and came straight here," A sad smile flickered over his rugged features. "Are you doing okay?"

She nodded her lie. "And you?"

"I'm sorry, Miri."

Miri opened her mouth to speak, but when he drew a deep breath as if to say more, she closed it again and waited. He stared down at his hands, not speaking, and Miri longed to reach out and touch him.

"I blamed you...deserted you," he said, quietly. "I was a bastard to do that."

Miri shook her head firmly and fought the first prick of tears. "No, you had every right to be angry." This was her guilt, and she wasn't about to share it with Nick.

He reached across the space between them and took her hands. "But not with you." His grip relaxed on her fingers, as if expecting her to pull away. His head went down again, and Miri heard the misery in his voice. "Every day I wanted to call you, but I was stubborn. And fucking stupid."

Miri stared at the top of his dark head, bent so low that she could see the spiky hairs on the back of his neck. Tears welled, but she swallowed them. "No, it was me. I was the stubborn one."

He looked up. "You, stubborn? No way."

Not even his tease could stop her tears now. They spilled down her cheeks and over her chin, but there was no way of wiping them away with Nick holding her hands, and she couldn't bear to lose his warm grip.

"Nick, don't you see? I caused all of it. It was because of me that Ale..." She stopped, not wanting to say the name. "She did it for me."

He stood and pulled her to her feet, gathering her in his arms. Miri closed her eyes and let her body sink into his, crying into his shirt, needing his strength to hold her up. "It wasn't just Alex. There's so much you don't know. Marcus..."

"I guessed that."

"How?"

Miri felt his chest move when he shrugged. "Lockart's built the medical center, and that was the link. Carter wanted the mill for you." She felt a soft, humorless chuckle against her face. "I knew I should've flattened the guy when I had the chance."

"But he knew all the time, and he said nothing because of me. Don't you see? Everything is my fault. I'm so sorry."

Miri felt his hand slide up to stroke the back of her neck, so she angled her face deeper into his shirt, her body warming to his caress.

"Look," he breathed down into her hair, "if we keep apologizing to each other, we'll be here all week. Besides, I have to tell you something."

"What?" she whispered, terrified he was going to talk about Alex.

"That I love you, Miri."

For a split second Miri was sure her heart actually stopped. "I love you, too, Nick," she whispered into the wet patch on his shirt.

"Oh..." The word rumbled from his chest, and Miri pressed her cheek to the sound. Then he was easing her back, looking down at her with eyes so tender, her tears flowed harder.

"Does all this crying mean you're happy?" His brow was arched in question, but he was smiling.

When she nodded dumbly, Nick wrapped his arms around her again and lifted her up to his height, his arms under her backside. "Well, that's a relief, because I'm never leaving you again. You're stuck with me now."

"Stuck," she sniffled, slipping her arms around his neck.

Nick kissed her, and Miri parted her lips to welcome him. He'd kissed her hundreds of times, but this was the sweetest kiss ever. The kiss of a lover. Her lover.

When he took his mouth from hers, she whispered into his cheek, "Do that again."

He grinned. "Okay." He kissed his way over and around her cheeks, nose, and chin before finding her mouth again. A million heartbeats later, he drew back. "I have something of yours," he said, still holding her up like she weighed nothing.

"What?"

"Lust."

"Really?!"

"Uh-huh. Cate bought it for me. It's in my London office. A real conversation piece for the clients."

"The auction house said it went to an anonymous buyer."

"It's beautiful. You're a wonderful artist. How's the library commission coming along?"

"It's not."

"Is that my fault?"

"A little."

"That's not good. Would a structural engineer be able to help?"

"I'm sure I can find something for you to do. Am I getting too heavy?"

He laughed. "Hardly, but I'll take the hint."

Nick set her down before she could protest, so she slipped her arms around his waist and snuggled close.

"Miri, there's something else I need to tell you."

He sounded so serious, Miri felt a stab of worry. "What?" she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut to brace herself.

"The developer has reneged on the contract. Probably scared off by the town's opposition to pulling down the mill. I know how this must look to you."

Her fear receded. "What do you mean?"

"That the mill is suddenly available."

Miri leaned back to look up into Nick's face, puzzled that he was so worried. "But there was nothing you could do about it."

"No, there wasn't. Anyway, now Fitz wants to sue the developer for breach of contract. The thing is, I want you to have the mill. The façade and windows can be put back. I'd understand, though, if you no longer wanted it after everything that's happened."

"I don't know what to say...I can't believe it."

"If you've found somewhere else, Fitz will offer it to one of the other bidders. Anyway, it's yours if you want it. Please think about it."

Miri thought for all of two seconds. "I'll take it. And I'll pay you twenty thousand over what you paid," she said, laughing when his eyebrows went up.

"You understand that I bought the mill to make a profit, Ms. Jamieson?" he said, frowning.

Miri angled her head coyly. "Well, Mr. Brannagh, there must be something I can offer you to change your mind."

Nick's throaty laugh had her sizzling. "I'm sure there will be. Seriously, would you accept the mill as a gift?"

Miri shook her head firmly. "No, I have to pay for it."

"Well, whatever you want to pay will be fine. Or I could leave the money in as an investment."

She smiled. "That might work. I'll think on it."

"You know," he said, looking around, "I think I smell burning."

"Hell!" Miri unwrapped her arms from his waist and scooted for the kitchen. "Want some pizza?" she yelled over her shoulder.

She grabbed an oven glove and, bending to take the pizza from the oven, heard Nick behind her. Dropping the hot pizza tray on the countertop, she swayed her hips as she picked at a lump of burnt mozzarella, feeling his stare on her butt. "What do you think?" she asked.

Nick came to stand beside her. "If you're talking about the pizza, it's burnt."

"Would you like some of Bree's lemonade?"

"Sure. Anything I can do?" he asked, turning his sleeve cuffs back.

Put those around me and kiss me again, she thought wistfully. Except Nick had moved to the window to look at the garden, so she busied herself with the lemonade.

"Very nice," he said, coming back to stand in front of her, his eyes drifting down her body.

"The garden?" she queried, then went pink when he grinned. "Oh...yes, I've kept the cottage look. Nothing has been changed since the accident."

"I want to hear all about your folks." He took her hands, his expression serious. "When you're ready."

Miri squeezed his fingers to reassure him she was okay. "You will, I promise." She smiled as a sudden realization swept her. She was okay. Really okay. She felt different somehow. Stronger. Loved. Ready to face her future, whatever that might hold.

Miri set the jug of lemonade and two glasses on the table while Nick sat down. "Want some? Bree uses real... " She shrieked as Nick pulled her onto his knee, wrapped his arms around her, and started kissing his way all over shoulder and down her arm.

He ran a finger along the small of her back, making her jump. "My God, you're ticklish, right there." He laughed when she jumped again. "How could I have missed that?"

"Please, no...not there!" Miri squirmed as he moved his finger to stroke along her ribs.

Nick stopped tickling and started kissing her shoulder again. "There's so much we don't know about each other," he murmured, his breath warm on her skin. "I'm going to need a lot of time to find out about you, Ms. Jamieson. I intend to be based in New York from now on. I hope you can cope with me on your doorstep every day."

"I'll manage," she laughed. "But I'll be on your London doorstep soon. Two of my works are included in an exhibition, and they've invited me to the opening. I'll have to meet with the library people as well."

"Will you stay with me in London?"

"Oh, you can count on it." She tucked her face into his neck. "I love you, Nick Brannagh," she murmured, the words sweet on her lips.

His throat vibrated against her face as he murmured in her ear. "I know you do, and I'm a lucky guy." He pulled his head back to look at her face. "Now, about that thing you promised."

Miri tried to think. "What thing?"

"To change my mind."

"Oh, that," she said carelessly. "Well, I'd have to show you the rest of the house first. Where would you like to start?"

Nick waggled his brow, making Miri giggle. "You need to ask?"

She stood and took his hand to lead him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Stopping halfway, she fingered a button on his shirt. "Nick...?"

"Yeah?" he asked, pulling her to him, his fingers working on the halter tie of her bikini top.

"We're so different," she said, undoing the button. "We'll probably fight all the time."

"Uh-huh, I expect so," he said, stripping her top away.

Miri looked up at him with a serious face. "Maybe it's just the sex that attracts us."

"Could be." He kissed her long and deep. "It's not the sex," he said, lifting his head. "Didn't feel a thing."

"Fibber," she countered, standing high on her tiptoes to whisper against his mouth. "The bedroom is at the top of the stairs."

His hands curved over her butt. "Good, because I need to take a look at those pajamas."

Miri sighed happily and undid two more buttons to make room for her hand. At this rate, they weren't going to make it to her bedroom. Well, they'd get there eventually, but for now...
