Читать книгу Married By Midnight - Judith Stacy - Страница 12

Amanda pushed her bedroom door shut and fell back against it. Heat swept through her, flushing her cheeks and threatening to burn her from the inside out.

Then she giggled. A silly, schoolgirl giggle.

Since agreeing to come to the Hastings home she’d worried and wondered what would happen when she saw Nick again. Would she be so overwhelmed by the sight of him that she’d stutter and stammer? Trip over something? Faint dead away? Would she make a fool of herself by his mere presence?

None of that had happened. Instead, the first time she saw him he’d been in his underwear.

“What happened?” Dolly asked, turning away from the closet. “Why was Miss Cecilia crying?”

They’d heard her sobs on their way to the bathroom down the hall. Dolly had returned to Amanda’s room, leaving her to see what the problem was.

“Everything’s fine with Cecilia. Just last-minute nerves,” Amanda said.

Dolly’s eyes narrowed. “Then what’s so all-fired funny? I can see that smile on your face, plain as day.”

“Nothing,” Amanda insisted, trying again to swallow her grin. “It’s nothing.”

A knock sounded on the door. Amanda’s heart lurched. Was it Nick?

She admonished herself for having the thought. More than likely it was Constance, coming to thank her for helping. Or Cecilia wanting to talk.

She opened the door and her heart thundered in her chest. Heat flooded her cheeks again.

It was Nick.

In the ten years that had passed since she’d last seen him his features had hardened, become more angular. A straight nose, square jaw, dark full brows…the face of a man looked down at her.

He’d grown larger, too. His shoulders were wide and straight, his chest full and muscular. Her nose barely reached his chin.

His dark hair was damp, hanging over his forehead. The white shirt she’d seen him in moments ago was buttoned now, but the tail hung loose and the collar stood open. She glimpsed the fabric of his white cotton undershirt and his coarse, black chest hair curling over the top.

He also wore trousers.

He must have hopped into them and hurried after her, because even now he was pulling up his suspenders.

A moment passed while he just looked at her, as if he’d forgotten what he wanted to say, or perhaps couldn’t bring himself to say it. Amanda didn’t know which. All she knew for certain was that her mouth had grown so dry she couldn’t have answered had he asked her anything.

Then he smiled. It pulled at the corners of his mouth, lifting them ever so slightly.

Amanda fought back her own answering grin and wagged her finger at his legs. “I see you found your trousers.”

Behind her, she heard Dolly approach, and sensed her craning her neck for a better view.

Nick’s smile widened and he glanced down at himself. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize…”

Amanda crossed her arms in front of her. “You didn’t realize? Is that because you routinely have so many women in your bedchamber?”

“Only ones I’m related to.” His grin turned devilish. “Unfortunately.”

The heat inside Amanda increased, spread through her, weakening her knees. The mere presence of this man two feet away called to her, urged her to move closer, as if he somehow held a power over her she could not resist.

And didn’t want to resist.

She took a step backward. She could have sworn he leaned forward, but maybe it was her imagination.

“So, anyway,” Nick said, “I came to apologize for my state of dress just now.”

“The lack of it, you mean?”

He grinned again. “Yes. I hope you weren’t offended.”

“Traumatized beyond recovery,” Amanda declared, hoping the sarcasm in her voice could somehow take the edge off her churning emotions. “I’ll probably have to spend the rest of the day in bed.”

His grin blossomed devilishly and his gaze dipped to her toes, then rose to her face once more in a swift, hot sweep. Amanda’s cheeks burned as his eyes caressed her.

“Well, if there’s any way I can assist you in that, please let me know.” Nick gave her a nod and headed back down the hall.

Amanda just stood there for a moment, watching him walk away. Long legs, straight back, muscular—

“Oh, gracious.” What was she doing? She slammed the door, fanning her face with her hand.

“That was him, wasn’t it?” Dolly asked, her eyes bulging. “That was Mr. Nick?”

All Amanda could manage was a nod.

“Did you see that man’s feet?” Dolly asked, more an announcement than a question. “Land sakes, he has the biggest feet I’ve ever laid eyes on. And you know what that means.”

Amanda’s face flushed anew.

“Help me, Lord,” Dolly beseeched, turning her face upward and clutching her hands to her chest. “I am in love.”

“Only twenty minutes ago you said you didn’t like Nick.”

Dolly turned to her as if she’d lost her mind. “Did you see that man?”

Amanda reined in her own runaway thoughts, forcing herself to regain her composure. “He was pleasant looking.”

“Pleasant looking? Lordy, Miz Amanda, that ain’t the half of it.” Dolly nodded her head wisely. “He was giving you the look.”

“The look?”

“You know what I mean,” Dolly said. “He got an eyeful of you, and he liked what he saw. Believe me, I know.”

Yes, Dolly did know. She had an uncanny ability to read people’s expressions. Her intuition ran far deeper than Amanda’s ever had.

But Amanda didn’t want to think about the possibility that she might be right.

“I came here with the intention of avoiding Nick,” Amanda declared. “That’s what I intend to do. Now, I’d better get on with the day. Maybe I can hurry this wedding along, get it over with sooner, somehow. The quicker I get back home the happier I’ll be.”

“You’re gonna avoid Mr. Nick?” Dolly gave her a knowing look. “We’ll just see about that….”

Nothing like making a good impression.

Nick gave his necktie a tweak as he trotted downstairs, cringing inwardly at what had happened in his room. A beautiful woman in front of him and he’d had no trousers on.

He paused at the bottom of the steps. The situation could have turned out much more embarrassing. In fact, it almost had.

The warmth that had simmered in him since Amanda had sashayed out of his bedchamber increased a little more. She’d had on a dressing gown, buttoned up to her throat and cinched at her waist. But those curves of hers, hips and breasts clearly defined by the flow of fabric, with none of the armor of underwear most women insisted upon wearing to disguise their shape and keep him from seeing their figure…

When he’d gone to Amanda’s bedchamber to apologize, he’d gotten close enough to smell her. He’d almost made a complete fool of himself all over again.

Nick ground his teeth together and hurried toward the breakfast room. Enough of those thoughts. He had a lot to do today, and remembering a beautiful woman like Amanda in her dressing gown would only keep him from thinking straight.

The comfortable, sunny yellow breakfast room was situated at the back of the house. Windows offered views of the grounds. Since it was early, none of the other houseguests were up yet, which suited Nick fine.

A servant in a gray uniform and crisp white apron came in as Nick sat down at the head of the table. She filled his cup from the silver service on the buffet and presented him with the morning newspaper. He told her what he wanted for breakfast and she left again.

Unfurling the paper, he reached for his cup. A fragrance tickled his nose. It wasn’t the coffee.

Amanda stood in the doorway.

In contrast to earlier, her hair was done up atop her head, with little tendrils curling at her ears. She wore a pale blue gown. The skirt was drawn across her front, then lifted high to a bustle in the back. The toes of her high buttoned shoes peeked from beneath the skirt. Leg-o’-mutton sleeves on her jacket tapered to her wrists.

“Good morning.” Nick lurched to his feet, catching the newspaper before it slipped to the floor.

A few seconds passed while Amanda just stood there, as if reluctant to enter the room. Finally, she did.

“I see you’ve dressed for breakfast,” she said.

Nick stepped away from the table, looked down and tapped his toes on the floor. “Shoes and socks this time.”

She glanced down and he could have sworn her cheeks colored. Odd reaction to his feet, he thought.

Nick held the chair to his immediate right, and Amanda lowered herself into it. He lingered for a moment, looking down at her, held captive by the long line of her neck, the loose curls of her fine hair, her slim shoulders and the scent that wafted up.

“Is something wrong?” Amanda asked, turning her head to look back at him.

“No, nothing,” Nick said, fearing that he’d moaned aloud or something. He gave her a quick smile.

She smiled, too—a lovely, shy little smile. Nick dropped into his chair and picked up his napkin. It seemed a good idea to have something over his lap at the moment.

The servant came in again and poured juice at Amanda’s request. She declined a hot breakfast, preferring pastries and fruit from the platter already on the table.

“Don’t let me disturb you,” she said to Nick, nodding toward the newspaper beside his plate.

He was quite certain nothing the Times reported today could be as interesting as the woman seated at his elbow.

“No, it’s all right. I can read later—”

But before he could finish his sentence, Amanda pulled a tiny tablet and the nub of a pencil from her skirt pocket and turned her attention to them.

For some reason, that didn’t quite suit him. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier,” he said.

“It’s all right.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has.” She glanced up at him, then turned back to her tablet once more.

“Yes, it has,” he echoed, and couldn’t help but think he was usually better at talking to women than this.

“How’s your family?” Nick asked.

“Quite well, thank you.”

A few more minutes dragged by.

“Are you planning to be in town long?” he asked.

“No,” Amanda said. “I’ll be going home immediately after the wedding.”

Nick wasn’t certain what he was doing wrong. He’d never had to work this hard at conversation in his life.

Generally, women fell all over him, hanging on his every word, giggling at his jokes. This one, however, didn’t seem to care if he sat here with her or not. Somehow, that made him try harder.

“I guess you’ll help out with all the last-minute wedding preparations today?” he asked.

That got a bigger response from Amanda than he’d elicited so far, but it wasn’t favorable. She cringed, held up her hand as if to ward off the possibility, and gave herself a little shake.

“I fear that will be my doom—destiny,” she said, and turned back to her tablet.

Nick was about to run out of small talk. Maybe if he knew what his competition was, he’d be better able to hold her attention, he decided.

He tilted his head to get a look at the tablet she was writing on, and saw that she’d made a list of some sort.

Probably some litany of the inane things women spent their time on. Nick leaned closer, unable not to. Lord, she smelled delightful. Lavender or something.

Just then Amanda sat back and frowned. She gave a breathy little sigh.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, glancing from her tablet to her face again.

Surely something was amiss. The fact was obvious from the look on her face—the lines of concentration, the frown. How endearing she looked, probably worried over some shopping problem she faced today. Nick wondered at the workings of the feminine mind. The smallest things threw them.

Amanda tapped her pencil against her bottom lip. Nick shifted in his chair.

“I might be able to help,” he offered, dragging his gaze away from her mouth.

She laid her pencil aside. “Do you know anything about concrete?”

He stilled, then leaned back. “Concrete?”

“Yes, concrete. It’s used in construction to form—”

“I know what concrete is.” He looked down at her tablet. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m going to erect a building.”

His frowned. “You’re going to do what?”

“Erect a building.”

Nick just stared at her, not sure he’d understood her correctly.

“I’m going to erect a building,” Amanda said again. “Erect. A. Building. Erect. Are you understanding this?”

“I assure you, I have firsthand knowledge of erec—never mind.” Nick drew in a breath. “Why are you…putting up a building?”

“It’s a long story,” Amanda said, picking up her pencil again, “and not a very interesting one, really.”

The servant came into the room and served Nick his breakfast. He picked up his fork and bit into the eggs.

“Go ahead. Tell me. I’d like to hear all about it,” Nick said. “Are you building a flower shop? A dress shop, maybe? Or one of those hat places where women like to wile away the afternoon?”

“I’m building a refuge for women with children who’ve been abandoned by their husbands.”

Nick froze, staring at her. He knew he should say something, but couldn’t think of a darned thing. Anyway, it was almost impossible to speak with his foot buried so deeply in his mouth.

“All is well. All is going as planned,” Constance announced as she breezed into the breakfast room. “Today I’m going to—”

“I have to go, Mother,” Nick said, rising from his chair, glad to be interrupted before he made an even bigger fool of himself in front of Amanda—though he didn’t know how that would be possible.

“But don’t you want to hear about the wedding plans?” Constance asked, as if she couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t. “The florist is coming over today—”

“I’ll hear about it later,” Nick promised, tossing his napkin onto his plate.

“Oh, well, all right.” Constance turned to Amanda. “We’ll have such fun today. After the florist leaves, the dressmaker will be by for a final fitting.”

“Oh, yes…” Amanda smiled bravely. “Won’t that be fun?”

“Has Cecilia showed you her trousseau yet?”

“Actually, she has. Last night,” Amanda said.

“Well, you’ll want to see it again,” Constance declared. “We’ll do that this afternoon.”

“Lovely…”

The change in Amanda that Constance seemed not to notice didn’t escape Nick. Right before his eyes Amanda appeared to wilt. Her shoulders slumped. Beneath her brave facade he caught a fleeting grimace of distaste.

Was it possible that she was as tired of hearing about Cecilia’s wedding as he was?

He decided to take a chance.

“Actually, Mother,” Nick said, “I’ve already offered to show Amanda around the city this morning.”

Amanda’s gaze came up quickly and landed on him with such gratitude that he thought she might launch herself into his arms.

“Really?” Constance said, clearly disappointed.

Nick looked down at Amanda. “Unless you want to change your mind and stay here today?”

Now she looked as if she might throttle him.

“No!” She jumped from her chair, then forced a smile. “I mean, no. I couldn’t go back on my word after you so generously offered your time.”

“Well, perhaps if you hurry back?” Constance suggested.

“Can’t promise,” Nick said. He cupped Amanda’s elbow and the two of them hurried out of the room.

“Remember there’s the rehearsal tonight,” Constance called. “And supper.”

“Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll be there.” Nick led Amanda through the house to the foyer, stopping at the foot of the grand staircase. “Get your things.”

“You’re serious?” she asked, a little breathless. “You’ll really get me out of this house today?”

“Sure.”

Amanda gave him a saucy little grin. “You, Nick Hastings, are my new best friend.” She turned, hiked up her dress and sprinted up the stairs.

Nick watched her, trying to remember why he’d avoided going to San Francisco for so many years.

He wondered, too, how he was going to keep Amanda Van Patton from going back.