Читать книгу Wedding For One: Wedding For One / Tattoo For Two - Dawn Atkins - Страница 12

NATHAN’S TWO-STORY ranch home—just a block away from her parents’—was gracious and classy and very Nathan. The only thing wrong was the garish for-sale sign stuck in the middle of the perfectly trimmed rose bed. The sight made her stomach sink. His house was already for sale. If he’d gotten this far with his plan, convincing him to stay might not be easy.

She followed the curving flagstone path to the huge door, on either side of which was a stained-glass panel featuring a hummingbird on a prickly pear cactus. Before she rang the doorbell, she became aware of an awful honking that at first she thought was a goose in great distress. After a few seconds, she realized it was a musical instrument being played badly.

She rang the bell and the tortured fowl fell silent.

In a second, Nathan stood in the doorway wielding the saxophone he must have been abusing. The instant he saw her, his face lit with amazement, then joy, and he gave her a smile as big as the one he’d delivered when she’d agreed to marry him.

“Mariah? What are you…?” Abruptly, the light switched off and the smile faded. “Your mother sent you.”

She didn’t answer. She was busy storing the memory of the joy on his face when he’d seen her.

“My mind’s made up, but come in,” he said.

She stepped into the entryway, which was tiled in whitewashed saltillo, with a high ceiling and a bright airy feeling. It opened into a spacious step-down living room at the far end of which a floor-to-ceiling window invited her into the backyard with its glittering pool, lacy palms and Mexican bird of paradise bushes, iridescent with feathery orange blossoms.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said. “It’s so…” you, but that would sound silly.

“So predictable, so yuppie,” he said with a tired sigh. “I know. Come in and sit down.” He laid his saxophone on the marble entry table.

She stepped down into the living room and went to sit on the white leather sofa, soft and yielding as a gloved hand. Seeing Nathan again made her heart pound so hard she was afraid he might hear it. She concentrated on the bad art on the wall—completely dead couch paintings, probably chosen because they matched the decor, not for their power. She wished she could have advised him. “I didn’t know you played the saxophone,” she said.

“My mom was a musician, so I thought it might be in the blood. I think maybe the talent skipped a generation.”

“Practice makes perfect,” she said.

“Maybe,” he said. His eyes flicked over her. “It’s a little early for cocktails, but something tells me I’ll need a drink for this.” He must have caught the hurt look on her face because he quickly added, “Because of why you came.” He headed for the wet bar in a glassed-in alcove. “Would you join me in a glass? I’ve got a nice cabernet here.”

“Sure,” she said. Wine might calm her nerves, but she wished it weren’t red, in case she spilled some onto his elegant white carpet.

He did look good. Her mother had been right about that. More handsome and more masculine than he’d been eight years ago. At twenty-one, he’d been wiry. Now his shoulders and chest were broader and more defined. What she could see of his arms beyond the short-sleeved shirt were tanned and muscled. He must work out. Maybe in that fabulous pool.

His hair, cut fashionably short, was thick and dark. His face looked older, too—more experienced. There were crinkles at the edges of his eyes, and his smile was more relaxed than she remembered. Though he wore a button-down, well-pressed oxford shirt and crisp khakis, he’d be equally at home on a golf course, in a corporate boardroom or a smoky biker bar. In fact, he’d look great in black leather.

With practiced moves, Nathan took two goblets from the rack overhead, opened the bottle and filled the glasses. She realized he probably did this on all his dates. As much as Mariah tried to avoid it, her mother had kept her apprised of the details of Nathan’s love life. In fact, she was pretty sure he had a girlfriend right now. A math teacher, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Nathan came toward her carrying the wineglasses. Now that he knew why she’d come, his smile seemed flat, and she could tell he was being careful not to touch her fingers as he handed her the goblet.

“So, how have you been?” he asked, sitting at the farthest end of the sofa, like he thought she might pounce on him.

“Fine. Good, actually.”

“Your mother tells me you own a condominium now?”

“Hardly. I rent an apartment. Nikki’s my roommate.”

“Oh, yes. Your wild friend.” He shook his head in wonder. Nikki bewildered lots of people. “Living in an apartment is probably fun.”

“Oh, yeah. Gallons of giggles.” She thought of the funky building with its erratic air-conditioning and thin walls, on which they had to pound to get the rock band next door to stop practicing after midnight. Not to mention the deals she and Nikki had to make to keep the phone and gas hooked up.

“It’s nothing like this, that’s for sure,” she said, waving out the window. “I bet you come home every night from a hard day at the candy factory and dive into that crystal cool pool, huh?”

He shrugged as if it were nothing. “How about work? Your mother says you’re acting. Community theater? A play you wrote?”

Oh, for God’s sake. She’d written the skits for most of the costume characters they took out to kiddie parties, but that was hardly theater. “Meredith tends to embellish,” she said. “Actually, I’m between jobs right now.”

She just couldn’t bring herself to explain that she’d turned over her clown suit, Barney costume and Power-puff Girl tights the day she’d left, and told the temp agency to put a hold on her job application until she settled this family situation. “Enough about me,” she said, uncomfortable with the way his blue eyes seemed to dig down inside her. “Let’s talk about you.”

Nathan gave a weary smile. “That’s why you’re here, right? Guess we might as well get to it.”

Very cool, Nathan congratulated himself. He couldn’t believe how relaxed he’d sounded, considering the fact that the woman who’d flitted through his dreams for the past eight years had suddenly lighted on his sofa. He wanted to move very slowly so she wouldn’t zip away. That was stupid, though. Mariah had come here with her own agenda, not to restart their abandoned relationship.

She was prettier than the photo her father’d let him have. The camera deadened her electric blue-green eyes, doused the life in her face, dulled the gleam in her golden brown curls. She’d done something to the ends—bleached them blond. An interesting effect that made her look exotic. Though he’d left plenty of distance between them on the sofa, Mariah’s intensity seemed to fill the room all the way to the predictably high ceiling.

He thought about the last time he’d seen her, zooming down the highway, in a sea of white satin laughing her way away from him with Nikki, her partner in crime. He often wondered how things would have turned out if he’d gone with his first impulse and grabbed a car, chased her down and dragged her back. But those were just late-night thoughts with one too many scotches in his bloodstream. They were past all that now. It was about time he realized it and moved on.

“So, I hear you’re blowin’ town,” Mariah said. “What’s the deal?”

The deal was that he’d finally figured out why no relationship seemed to work, why he could be surrounded by people, busy with work he enjoyed, and still feel dead bored and lonely as hell. He’d been holding a torch for Mariah since she drove away from him eight years ago. He was a complete idiot. “I just think my life should be more…”

“Meaningful?”

“Exactly.”

“As my mother says, what’s more meaningful than candy?”

He laughed. “Your mother’s something else.”

“I know. And, Nathan…” She looked down, then up at him. “I really appreciate all you’ve done for my parents—looking out for them, working with my dad these past years.”

Mariah’s words made Nathan realize how much more mature she’d become. She’d seemed so scared and uncertain at seventeen, he’d wanted to protect her from everything. Now, besides being more beautiful, she’d become more confident, more sure of her place in the world.

“It’s been a pleasure,” he said, pushing away his observations. “They’re great people. Like family. But I think it’s time for me to move on.”

His words seemed to worry her. For a second, he had the insane hope she didn’t want to lose him. “What are you thinking of doing?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I signed up for a conference to explore my options. It’s a retreat for business people tired of business.”

She was trying not to laugh, he could see. Her face had always revealed every feeling. “A retreat for businessmen? Isn’t that an oxymoron—like jumbo shrimp or military intelligence?”

“Not at all.” He’d explain it in its best light. “They have career counselors there. Motivational speakers. Aptitude tests, résumé analysis and, I don’t know, discussions. Speakers who’ve broken off and done different work. It’s a place to start.”

“Mom thinks you’re just having an early midlife crisis.”

He barely managed a smile. “She may be right. I just know I can’t stay here.”

“My parents are completely freaked about you leaving.”

“We’ve got good staff. The floor manager, Dave Woods, could probably take over. He’s not as passionate about the product as your dad, but he’d do fine. As far as that goes, we could hire a headhunter to find someone your dad likes.”

“That would take a while, wouldn’t it? Maybe you just need a breather. A vacation or something?”

“A vacation won’t do it. I’ve decided.”

“What does your girlfriend think about you leaving?”

His eyes shot to her. “How did you know…?”

“How else? Meredith, who knows all and tells all.”

He smiled. “She doesn’t know all, I guess, since Beth and I broke up a couple of weeks ago.”

So that was why he was leaving. “I’m sorry, Nathan, but you might be able to work this out. Sometimes things seem bad—”

“Beth’s not the reason I’m leaving.” Except that his very lack of feeling for her had proved he had to get away. “I just need to go,” he said firmly.

“You’ve got your house up for sale.” Mariah worried her lip.

“Yeah. I figure I’ll find a place in southern California when I’m out there for the conference.”

“You’re moving to California without a job? With housing prices the way they are? That’s not very sensible.”

He shrugged. “I’ll play it by ear.”

“This doesn’t sound like you. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” She pretended to check his forehead for a fever.

He braced himself against the sweet brush of her fingers and managed a smile. It was out of character, but if he didn’t break out, do something different, he’d never stop clinging to the impossible.

“The kind of life you’re thinking about is not as romantic as it sounds. It’s uncertain and kind of scary.” She slid closer to him on the couch. “Believe me. I’m living it.”

Her lips were so red, so inviting…. After that first kiss eight years ago at the dry creek make-out spot, he’d have done anything for more of that mouth.

“Definitely not you,” she concluded, shaking her head.

“That’s the point. I’ve had enough of being me.” He wasn’t about to explain that she was the reason he needed to escape. “And how is it you know what’s me anyway? We haven’t seen each other for eight years, when you ran away from me.” He gulped. He hadn’t meant to go there.

“I wasn’t running from you. I was running for me,” she said. “Besides, at the time I thought you were doing the same thing, remember?” She smiled wistfully, laughed a little.

“Of course I wasn’t doing that. I—”

“I know, Nathan,” she interrupted. “Drunken bachelor party, rocks in the wheel, slow ride with Farmer Jim, everything. It’s fine. We were just lucky my mom made that remark about my Pop Tart in the toaster.”

“Your what?” What was she talking about?

“Never mind. I just mean my mom did us a favor by telling me you thought I was pregnant.” She seemed troubled by what she’d said, so she glanced away from him, out the window. “Oh, look, there are some baby quail under that mesquite.” She rushed to the window carrying her wine, clearly wanting to change the subject.

“They were born in the yard a couple weeks ago,” he said, following her to the window. “You should hear their parents squawk them into line.”

She was silent for a moment, watching the birds. She spoke, still looking out the window. “You were marrying me under false pretenses, Nathan.”

He had the insane desire to take her by the shoulders, turn her and tell her the truth. I wanted you no matter what. Pregnant and all. I loved you. I still do.

As if she’d read his mind, she turned to face him. Maybe she felt the same.

His heart stopped and he held his breath, waiting for her to say it.

“We would have made each other miserable,” she said with a short laugh.

His heart started up its slow, sad rhythm and he released his breath. “Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard. “Miserable.”

“Thank God we’re past all that.” She lifted her glass to clink against his. “It was for the best.”

He clinked back and managed a smile, but he couldn’t echo her toast. “So, now I’m taking a page from your book. Hitting the road, being free. You should be happy for me.”

“Freedom’s not good for some people.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“No offense, but how could you give up all this?” She indicated his living room.

“Would you want to live here?” he asked.

“Not me!” She stopped. “Sorry, I just mean, this is you.”

Maybe, but he figured turning his life upside down would keep him too busy to mope about her.

“It looks like you’re serious about leaving.” Mariah sighed as she headed back to the couch. “So, what should we do about my parents?”

“They’ll be fine,” he said, but guilt tightened his gut. He did hate hurting Abe and Meredith. They’d been like parents to him—or at least the way he thought parents were supposed to be. His mom had been more like an older sister, way too relaxed about her motherly duties. Abe and Meredith counted on him and now he was letting them down. He wished he could fix that.

And then, looking into Mariah’s face, the solution came to him. It was a long shot, but it would give him a way to keep Mariah too busy to poke around in his motivation for leaving. “If you’re really worried about them, why don’t you stay?” he said. “You could take over for me.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Her glass sloshed.

He caught it before anything spilled. “Not at all. You’ve had business experience. You managed a restaurant and a boutique, didn’t you?” The idea was sounding better and better, except for the horrified look on her face, which made him want to grin. He hadn’t wanted to grin in a long time.

“I was a waitress and sold jewelry on consignment. Like I said, Mom tends to exaggerate.”

“You learn a business from the ground up anyway. If you’re smart and motivated, the sky’s the limit.”

“Tell that to the Caravan Travel Agency. I motivated them right into a three-month slump with a couple of my out-of-the-way trip ideas. Turns out there are reasons some places are out of the way—like ankle-eating fleas and no flush toilets.”

He shrugged. “I could teach you all you need to know before I leave. You said you’re between jobs. Maybe you need to try stability on for size—changing jobs can be a rut, too.”

“I could never stay here. My mom’s probably already picking out paint to redo my room and signing me up to sing in the church choir. It would be crazy.”

“No more crazy than asking me to stay.”

She gave him a long look. “I suppose so.” She paused. “When do you leave?”

“In two months, when I go to the conference. How about you? How long will you be in town?” He hope he didn’t sound too interested.

She didn’t answer immediately, and he could practically see her mental gears whirring through their calculations. “I’ll stay until I figure out what to do about my parents. And you.” She gave him a Cheshire cat grin he’d never seen before. Eight years ago, she’d been too uncertain to act mischievous around him. What the hell was she cooking up? The prospect of finding out made him happier than he’d been in a long, long time.

“SO HOW WAS NATE?” Nikki asked Mariah the next day when she called home.

“Great,” she said.

“Nate the Great. Poetry. How did he look?”

“Great.”

“If you don’t give me details right now I’ll go moshing in your Madonna bustier and get it all sweat-stained.”

“Okay, okay. He looked the same. Better. More built, more masculine, more confident. I don’t know.”

“Does he still act like he’s got a stick up his—”

“Nikki!”

“Well, really. He’s definitely a Wall-Street-Journal-with-breakfast-martini-after-work guy.”

“He’s different now. He wants to discover himself. It’s kind of cute, really.” She explained Nathan’s desire to search for meaning in his life. “He kind of reminds me of me.”

Her friend paused. “Jeez Louise, Mariah. You’re still hot for the guy, aren’t you?”

“No more than any woman would be. He’s still a babe, and I’m only human.”

“So, sleep with him. That’ll clear the cobwebs from his psyche. Talk about finding himself. Whoo, baby.”

“That would be manipulative. Besides, I doubt he wants to sleep with me.” Not true. She’d definitely felt vibes. That was gratifying, but unsettling, too. “It would just complicate things.”

“For who? Two months and out, remember? How deep can it get in two months?”

That was the rebel girls’ philosophy on relationships. In two months, the sex was still fresh, both of you were on your best behavior, solicitous and eager to see each other. After two months, you started taking each other for granted, stopped doing the dishes at each other’s place. Soon, the guy was scratching his belly and belching in front of you, and you stopped wearing makeup and lace teddies.

On the other hand, Mariah had begun to weary of the constant change. That’s why she’d taken a timeout on dating. That way she didn’t have to be on guard against leading someone on. It was lonely, but at least no one got hurt.

“He might get too attached,” she said.

“Right,” Nikki said. “He might.”

“There’s no point to it, Nikki. If I convince him to stick around here, which is where he belongs, I certainly won’t be staying. The best thing I ever did for Nathan Goodman was to climb in your car and drive away from that stupid wedding.”

“Take a breath, girlfriend. I’m not the one who needs convincing.”

“Anyway, what I have to do is get him through this career crisis, so he can realize he’s happy where he is. I’ve got two months.”

“Two months, huh?”

“Yeah, until he goes on some kind of self-discovery retreat in California.”

“Nathan Goodman at a retreat? You’re kidding!”

“Crazy, huh? Hell, I could probably teach the thing. If you can take a class in it, join a club about it or buy a self-help book for it, I’ve taken it, joined it or bought it.”

Nikki paused. “You could, you know.”

“What?”

“Teach him. Give him his own private retreat. The Mariah Monroe Institute of Self-Discovery.”

“Hmm. Not bad…” Actually, it was a great idea. And it could be a shortcut to keeping him at Copper Corners. “I could. I could teach him to meditate, do yoga. I could even do a little Gestalt therapy with him.”

“Absolutely.”

“And you know the best part?”

“What?”

“He’ll hate it. Left-brain guys like Nathan hate meditation and energy flow, exploring their emotions, any of that stuff. The yoga postures will make him feel silly.”

“And when you ask him to get in touch with his inner child?”

“He’ll run screaming from the room, forget all about that stupid retreat and realize the grass is greener right here in Copper Corners.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“It couldn’t be better.” She gave Nikki a list of self-help books, manuals and materials to send to her, and hung up.

It would work out great. In a few weeks, her father could safely retire, leaving his factory in the hands of the newly contented Nathan, and Mariah would be back on track to whatever the future brought. Whatever it was, it had to be better than Copper Corners and the church choir.