Читать книгу The Best Man's Baby - Darcy Maguire - Страница 12

SKYE pushed open the front door to Camelot, her mind a jumble of clients, times and Nick.

She looked down at her watch. She was late this morning, but she’d had to make up for coming home so late last night.

She hoped her mother would recover quickly so she didn’t have to keep working to this extent, especially anywhere near Nick.

She froze in the doorway. The foyer was filled with flowers—yellow roses, red roses, pink roses, white roses, carnations, daffodils and bunches of mixed blooms, all vibrant with colour. She breathed in the sweet scent, as if she’d stepped into a flower shop or a much-loved garden on a warm spring day. ‘What’s all this?’

Riana stuck her head out from behind a grove of carnations. ‘It’s what it looks like—a lot of flowers,’ she said, a cheeky grin across her face.

‘Nice to see you.’ Her younger sister was an amazing designer, specialising in wedding gowns, with an artistic temperament and a total disregard for office hours. She flitted in and out as she pleased, doing her gowns, and that was about all.

Riana picked up a rose and put it to her nose. ‘And nice to see you. Mum being sick must be a bummer for you.’

Skye nodded. ‘Rick’s being romantic with Tara again, is he?’ Skye’s chest filled with a beautiful warmth as she looked around the foyer. She was so glad her sister had found someone to love, and someone who loved her so much. It made her think that happy-ever-afters weren’t so impossible after all.

She pressed her lips tightly together, fighting the sting behind her eyes. Tara was so lucky.

Skye pulled one of the closest yellow roses towards her and dragged in the warm, rich scent. It was her favourite flower. She remembered all the times that Nick had brought home yellow roses for her.

He’d been an amazing lover. Romantic and caring—in the hours they had together, just brief snatches in time. The rest was work. All work. His driving need to be all he could be his primary focus.

She’d accepted that, and loved that passion for his work in him. She was busy too, and it was only later, when life had thrown her a curve-ball, that she had discovered there would be no future for her with Nick Coburn.

‘No.’ Riana rearranged the flowers in one of the bouquets. ‘The flowers are not for Tara.’

‘You?’ Skye could imagine her younger sister having a string of boyfriends willing to make such a grand gesture for her. She was pretty, young and full of energy.

Riana smiled. ‘They’re for you.’

‘Me?’ Skye’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding against her chest. She stepped forward tentatively, touching the small card that lay nestled in the nearest bunch.

Say Yes.

Nick! She’d thought yesterday that he was bluffing. Today…She looked around her and cringed. He had to have bought the entire florist’s stock!

She bit her bottom lip. She knew what he was like with challenges in his life—tenacious, stubborn and devious, not to mention dogged. She’d seen him go after cases, seen his determined study at night, seen how his mind worked.

She was in trouble!

‘So, are you going to say yes to the mystery guy? It isn’t John, is it?’

She shook her head. John. She hadn’t thought of him at all. She slapped her forehead. ‘I forgot to call him back.’ He was the latest in a series of dates set up by her mother, okay company but nothing like Nick.

‘I didn’t think so. John doesn’t strike me as the romantic type and especially not the type to splurge a heap of his hard-earned money on this—’ Riana drew in a deep breath ‘—amazingly romantic gesture.’

Skye wished he had. John would have been easier to handle than Nick Coburn, and she suspected that romance wasn’t exactly what Nick had on his mind…

‘So what should I tell him?’ Riana looked at her expectantly, brushing her dark hair off her face, looking as much like a manic matchmaker as their mother.

‘Nothing.’

Riana raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at her.

‘Where’s Maggie?’ She was usually in at this time of day. And, of all people, Riana would know—the two of them hung out together a lot of the time.

‘She called in to say she felt sick.’ Riana perched herself on the small corner of the reception desk that didn’t have flowers on it. ‘She figured a day of rest, chicken soup and watching a soap or three would fix her up. And I decided that I could man her desk for her while I design the Macdonald gown, and Tara’s, too.’

‘That’s great. Thanks.’ Skye bit her lip. The last thing they needed was Maggie out sick for any length of time.

‘So—’ Riana clapped her hands and grinned. ‘Who should I tell that answer to?’

Skye stiffened. ‘Nothing to no one.’

‘No reply? To this? Are you crazy?’

A delivery man strode into the room with flowers in his arms. ‘Another delivery for Skye Andrews,’ he stated dryly. He placed the three foot high bouquet of red roses, complete with glass vase, on the floor beside Maggie’s desk.

Riana stared at the vase then at Skye. ‘We’ll drown in flowers if you don’t answer him.’

‘Okay, we’ll answer him.’ Skye looked around the offices, willing her mind to work. ‘Where’s the shredder?

‘You’re not going to shred all these beautiful flowers? You can’t,’ Riana squeaked. ‘Skye?’

Skye strode across the reception area and froze in her office doorway. If she’d thought there were a lot of flowers in the foyer there were twice as many in her office. Every surface was covered in them.

‘Riana!’ She turned back to her sister.

Riana strolled up to her, standing beside her in the doorway. She shrugged. ‘The first delivery guy was here waiting when I opened up this morning.’

Skye stared at the beautiful bouquets. Just how many deliveries had there been? ‘How am I going to work?’

‘Say yes.’

She shook her head. The fact that every flower was one of her favourites and there weren’t any that she disliked meant something. Did Nick keep notes in his little black book on each woman he dated—how else could he have remembered?

Skye strode across her office to her desk. If he thought that she was still the young girl she’d been when he’d first met her, he was mistaken. She’d grown up. She wasn’t going to roll over and accept anything at face value, especially this.

She knew what he was like, knew what games he liked to amuse himself with, knew how much he enjoyed getting people to roll over on their previous decisions and come round to his way of thinking.

He wasn’t going to get that sort of satisfaction from her, not after everything she’d been through.

If Nick Coburn wanted to play, fine. She had a few games of her own!

Nick flicked another page in the deposition, glancing at the phone again. Any minute now and she’d call him and say yes. He couldn’t help but smile.

Her place would look like the Botanical Gardens by now. He couldn’t help but smile. If she had been in any doubt that he was serious about his invitation to her, she wouldn’t be now.

He looked at the clock on the wall. Hell, she was stubborn. She’d lasted longer than he’d first thought she would. How many flowers did a girl need to conclude he was seriously interested in taking her out?

Nick would do whatever it took. Money was not an issue. He felt a swell of satisfaction. Just to think it made him taste his sweet success. He’d done what his father, and his brother, hadn’t.

Marrying his mother at twenty-two had, as far as his father was concerned, put paid to his aspirations of becoming a lawyer. He said it had doused his energy and his drive, sucking away his commitment to going back to school.

Nick knew his father had struggled to make enough for their family to get by, sometimes doing two shifts at the factory.

Six children was a bit much. With all the bills, clothing and then feeding them all, his parents barely managed most of the time.

Nick Coburn didn’t want that for himself. No way. And neither did his father. He wanted his sons to achieve what he hadn’t.

He toyed with the pens on his desk. He’d seen his father put all his energy behind his older brother, Robert, encouraging him through school, cheering him on in his achievements at university and urging him to greater career aspirations.

Nick had seen his father shake his head at his brother’s lack of drive. Heard his criticisms of him when Robert had got all serious over a woman. And seen him cry at Robert’s wedding.

Nick had never seen his father cry. It hadn’t felt good. It had felt like a giant hammer had slammed the air out of his lungs.

He didn’t want to feel like that again. Ever. He was going to get where he was going—come hell or high water. Nothing was going to stop him.

He’d make his father’s dream come true for at least one of his sons before he left this world.

A knock sounded. His office door opened and his secretary came in quietly, carrying a steaming cup of coffee. She hovered next to his desk.

He could smell the heady brew. ‘Thanks, Liz.’ He took the cup from the greying woman. ‘Any news?’

Liz pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. ‘I just heard that there’s been a spate of anonymous deliveries of flowers to hospitals, to nursing homes, and to medical clinics all over the city.’

Nick coughed, splattering coffee over the desk.

‘Oh, dear.’ She rushed out of the door and was back again, her hands full of tissues and a box of them under her arm. She mopped up the coffee.

Nick pulled a handful of tissues from the box and dabbed the documents in front of him, trying to clear his throat.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

‘Fine.’ He hadn’t expected that! He fought a smile. Skye was something else. There wasn’t an atom in his body that doubted that the flowers were his.

Liz walked to the door. ‘Some people have money to burn.’

‘Yes, well. Thanks, Liz.’ He tossed the clump of sodden tissues into his bin. ‘But I was actually referring to what you may have heard around the office about the promotion.’

‘Oh. Nothing yet, sir. They say they’re going to meet early next week to discuss who’ll make senior partner.’

‘Okay.’

She turned at the door, her face creasing as her smile widened. ‘It was a lovely gesture, don’t you think? The flowers. It would have put a lot of smiles on a lot of faces.’

‘Yes.’ Nick rubbed his jaw. Skye would be smiling all right. The vixen. She was meant to be ringing him with her ‘yes’, thanking him profusely for his incredibly romantic gesture of sending so many flowers to her, not playing philanthropist.

He stared at the work in front of him—it could wait a few minutes. What was her problem? It was only dinner…

He wrenched open his top drawer, pulling out his address book. She wanted to play hard to get? Wanted to torture him some more with what he couldn’t have?

He flicked the book to the right page. Only this time he wasn’t prepared to walk away.

He punched the numbers on the phone. But first, he needed all the facts.