Читать книгу Nick's Long-Awaited Honeymoon - Sandra Steffen, Sandra Steffen - Страница 10

Chapter Two

“Please, Nick. We have to stop.”

Nick heard Brittany’s hoarse whisper. He felt her stiffen, her arms going limp at her sides. His breathing was ragged, his body so taut with need he couldn’t see straight.

Stop?

He never wanted to stop. But Brittany was drawing away, pulling out of his embrace. And he had no choice but to let her go. Just as he’d had no choice six months ago when she’d told him she wanted to move to Jasper Gulch, South Dakota.

“That shouldn’t have happened, Nick.”

He could have argued. Heaven knew he was good at it. But the dull and troubled edge in her voice kept him silent.

“I don’t know how it happened,” she said quietly.

There was no controlling the sound he made deep in his throat. He knew exactly how it had happened. The same way it had always happened between them. They could be talking one minute, arguing, even, and the next thing either of them knew they were tangled up in sheets.

Tonight Brittany hadn’t let it get to that point. She was standing across from him in the narrow room, glancing from him to her watch and back again. “It’s late.”

Too late? he wanted to ask.

Her eyes pleaded with him not to, so he took a deep breath and made a feeble stab at idle conversation, instead. They exhausted the topic of the weather in about ten seconds. After that they talked about Savannah. Brittany seemed relieved, and latched on to the subject, rattling off the name of Savannah’s teacher and her new best friend. He’d spoken to Savannah on the telephone often, so he already knew her favorite subject was math, but he let Brittany tell him, anyway. Since they both loved their daughter to distraction, talking about her was safe. Or at least as safe as any subject was for them.

He followed Brittany into the kitchen where she brewed tea for herself. She didn’t have any beer, but she offered him a soda. They took their drinks to the living room and sat in the comfortable old furniture, he on the sofa, she with her feet curled underneath her on a matching overstuffed chair, her high-heeled shoes sitting crookedly on the carpet below. They could have been two friends talking late on a Saturday night. Except they’d always been more than friends.

When they ran out of things to say about their daughter, Brittany told him about some of the history she’d learned about Jasper Gulch. Every now and then the wind rattled a windowpane or a shutter. Nick was aware of every sound, but little by little the smooth cadence of Brittany’s voice worked over him. His soda grew warm as she spun tales of the man who’d founded this town and others who had come to help him. Few people had Brittany’s gift for bringing the past to life, describing the people of another time as if she’d lived there with them. She would have made a marvelous teacher. No doubt every little boy in her class would have had a crush on her.

Her eyes were so dark he couldn’t see the pupils from here, but there was no disguising the interest in their depths. “Jasper Carson arrived here from the Black Hills more than a hundred years ago with a widow he’d won in a poker game at his side and a little gold in his pocket,” she explained. “He married the woman and founded the town, but it was Abigail Carson who gave the town its name.”

Intrigued by the story, Nick settled himself more comfortably into the cushions, listening to her tale.

“Local legend paints Jasper as a rugged, handsome, exasperating man. If you ask any of the Carsons alive today they’ll claim they’ve inherited each and every one of those traits. According to Jasper’s journals, Abigail was none too happy with her fate. It seemed she wouldn’t give her new husband the time of day, if you know what I mean.”

Nick almost blurted out that only a woman could make such a statement so soon after being kissed so thoroughly, so completely by a man who knew every inch of her body, every nuance of her personality, the meaning behind every one of her sighs. Clearing his throat that had suddenly gone dry, he said, “Did she? Finally give him the time of day, I mean.”

Brittany smiled, warming to the tale. “Evidently he won on that point, but lost on the one about the town’s name. Abigail grew to love him, but she insisted they name the town after his first name, instead of his last. Thus, Jasper Gulch was born, followed in close succession by three Carson sons.”

“Then their marriage was built on give and take and survived in the midst of incredible odds.”

Her smile faded. “Nick.”

He sat forward, elbows resting on his thighs, his hands folded as if in prayer. “I know what you’re going to say, Brittany. I know we’ve been over this a thousand times. Believe me, I know. But I also know that what we shared in the doctor’s study twenty minutes ago was pretty damned incredible. I can’t just forget it. Can you?”

She jumped to her feet and paced to the other side of the room. “You’re right. We have been over this a thousand times. We’ve said it all a thousand different ways, with caution and confusion, in anger, in defiance, in disbelief and in tears.

You and I both know the attraction has always been explosive between us. But we also know our problems have a way of returning with the dawn.”

She came to a stop near the kitchen, her vehemence fading to a kind of acceptance Nick liked a lot less. He didn’t remember standing up, but as long as he was on his feet, he strode closer. As she watched him, her eyes grew round and wary. It hurt more than any insult she could have uttered, and stopped him in his tracks.

“I’ve missed you, you know.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I know. I’ve missed you, too. And so has Savannah.”

Nick ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to shout in frustration. And then he wanted to carry Brittany to the nearest bed and make love to her all night long. He wanted them to give their marriage another chance. He already knew what she would say if he whispered his wish out loud: “We’ve given our marriage another chance a hundred times.”

And they had.

The marriage counselor they’d seen had been quick to attribute their problems to their childhoods. Nick had already known who was to blame, and it wasn’t his mother. He was twenty-nine years old, and he’d spent most of the ten years he’d known Brittany trying to make things right.

“We’re hopeless, aren’t we?” she said quietly.

Nick shook his head. “I’m hopeless. You’re beautiful.”

He was vaguely aware of a sound in the foyer, but he couldn’t seem to pull his gaze away from Brittany’s sad smile. The door opened before he came to his senses.

“Yoo-hoo, we’re home.”

Nick swung around and swore under his breath. He’d seen corpses with a better reaction time than his had been.

Home? he thought, recovering slightly. Exactly how many people lived here?

Crystal Galloway closed the door for a frail, little old lady. “We would have been here sooner,” she said, slipping an arm around the old lady’s shoulders, “but Mertyl wanted to do the chicken dance one more time.” Pointing to the back of Mertyl’s head, Crystal mouthed, “She’s sloshed.”

“Mertyl,” Brittany said, reacting to Crystal’s head gesture, “you must be exhausted.”

A cat meowed its way down the open stairway, landing in Mertyl’s arms with a thud that nearly toppled her. The old lady mumbled something Nick couldn’t make out. She listened for a moment before mumbling something else. He didn’t know who was keeping up the other end of the conversation, but even her overweight yellow cat looked at her strangely.

Mertyl couldn’t have weighed more than ninety-five pounds. Obviously she couldn’t hold her liquor. Her eyes were a little too bright, her smile crooked, her head nodding like those toy dogs people put in the back windows of their cars. She was a head shorter than Crystal and was getting shorter by the second. Nick made it to her side and had her back on her feet before her knees gave out.

“Beautiful bride, just beautiful,” Mertyl declared out of the blue. “Cake was a mite dry, but the punch was the best I ever tasted.”

“Come on, dear,” Crystal said from Mertyl’s other side. “Let’s get Daisy settled upstairs. Want me to show Nick to a room, too?” she asked Brittany.

Brittany felt Nick’s eyes on her, but her gaze was trained on Crystal. There was something exotic about the shape of Crystal’s green eyes and the way they peered out at the world beneath all that wavy blond hair. The two of them had become fast friends soon after Crystal had moved to Jasper Gulch three months ago. Soul sisters, Crystal called them. The woman could speak her mind one minute, bare her soul the next and put a person in his or her place without batting an eye. Right now, in her own straightforward way, she was offering Brittany a reprieve. That would allow Brittany to put a little distance between her and Nick, and she could put things back into perspective.

Feeling less shaky, Brittany looked at Nick. He stared back at her, a muscle working in one lean cheek. She’d missed him these past six months, but she hadn’t missed the upheaval he brought back into her life. It wasn’t anything he did. It was the way she felt when he was near. His kiss had left its mark on her senses, and on his. She knew what he wanted. It was there in the way he looked at her, in the way he held his shoulders and drew in a sharp breath. One word from her could make all the difference in the world. And no difference whatsoever.

They’d been down this road before, giving in to the physical aspect of their marriage time and time again. Six months apart had sharpened that need, but she didn’t see how it could have changed all the reasons they had for separating. And it certainly hadn’t changed the biggest reason of all.

Taking great care to tear her gaze away, she said, “Crystal, are you sure you don’t mind showing Nick and Mertyl to their rooms?”

Crystal smiled down at Mertyl. “If Nick would be kind enough to help Mertyl and me up those tricky old stairs, we can handle the rest, can’t we Mertyl?”

Mertyl continued to nod, but Nick ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached. The only room he wanted to be shown to, dammit, was Brittany’s. There happened to be two very good reasons. One had to do with desire, the other with her safety. She would scoff at his mention of those two things in the same breath. When had one ever had anything to do with the other?

From his position he could see two of the four doors on this floor. He glanced over his shoulder where the open stairway stretched toward a dark upper level. He wondered if he would hear an intruder from that far away. And if he did, could he get down here and into Brittany’s and Savannah’s rooms in time?

“Come on, Nick,” Crystal said shrewdly. “You’re starting to look as green around the gills as poor Mertyl. Up we go.”

Nick gave Brittany one last look, leaving her to make what she wanted of his dark expression. No matter what she thought, things weren’t over between them. They would talk again. Morning, noon and night if necessary. Maybe they had already tried to make their marriage work a hundred times. Somehow he had to convince her to try once more.

For now, he helped Crystal get the elderly lady into one of the bedrooms upstairs. The cat hissed at him for his trouble. Coming out of her stupor, Mertyl did the same, squinting up at him with distrust. “Who’s he?” she asked Crystal.

“This is Nick Colter,” Crystal said, turning back the blankets.

Clasping the lapels of her pink cardigan sweater tightly in one hand and holding her cat in the other, Mertyl still managed to point a shaking finger at Crystal. “I don’t entertain strange men in my room, Missy, and neither should you.”

Nick found himself backing from the room, Crystal right behind him. Laughing out loud, Crystal said, “Believe me, Mertyl, I’m with you.”

The old lady gave Crystal a feeble good-night, glared at Nick and closed the door with a firm click. Within seconds a lock ground into place.

“Why, Nicky, I don’t believe she trusts you.”

Nick scowled. Nobody had called him Nicky since the third grade.

“Which room do you want to sleep in tonight?” Crystal asked. “Perhaps I should rephrase the question. Which room upstairs? You can have your choice of the three that aren’t rented.”

Nick stopped at the first door he came to. “Rented?”

Dropping a stack of blankets and sheets she’d taken from a hall closet into his hands, Crystal said, “Yes, rented. By boarders.” At his blank expression, she said, “You might have noticed that motels aren’t exactly popping up all over town. In fact, this is the only boarding house in Jasper Gulch. Didn’t Brittany tell you she bought it?”

Now that Nick thought about it he remembered the old man at the wedding reception saying something about a boarding house on Custer Street. But no, Brittany hadn’t mentioned anything about the fact that she’d purchased it.

Suddenly the tedious twelve-hour drive from Chicago, the fear that came from looking over his shoulder and the seemingly impenetrable walls Brittany had erected converged into one huge knot between his shoulder blades. He really was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He needed a good night’s sleep. The bedroom next to Mertyl’s wasn’t his first choice of places to spend the night, not by a long shot, but at least it was near the top of the stairs and within hearing distance of the first floor. Dropping the sheets and blankets over the iron bed frame, he turned around. He expected to find Crystal hovering nearby, but a quick glance in the hall found it empty.

Kneading the knot at the back of his neck, he closed the door and looked at his surroundings. The room could have come straight out of an old Western movie. The walls and ceiling were covered with faded wallpaper. The floor was hardwood, a throw rug the only thing covering the marred and scuffed surface. A lamp was perched on a painted bedside table, the only other furniture in the room a mismatched dresser and the double bed. He’d slept in a lot worse places, and supposed that for now any bed would do.

He was in the process of stuffing a pillow into a case when a knock sounded on the door behind him. Hope that it might be Brittany sprang out of nowhere, only to die at his first glimpse of blond hair instead of brown. Crystal shouldered her way into the room and dropped his duffel bag and suitcase on the floor.

With one eyebrow raised, she said, “Sorry to disappoint you.”

The woman obviously read body language very well. Nick saw no sense in trying to explain, so he simply shrugged and said, “Thanks for bringing up my bags.”

She turned to go. “Nick?” she said over her shoulder.

He shook the sheet out. Holding it in midair, he waited for her to continue.

“Brittany says good night.”

His throat constricted and his eyes closed for a moment, the sheet falling to the bed. Crystal Galloway had a walk that could stop traffic, and probably had. She was unusual, to say the least. Instinct told him she would be a very loyal friend. He wasn’t surprised Brittany had chosen her. His wife had always had very good taste in friends. He couldn’t say the same for her taste in men.

“By the way,” Crystal added, “don’t be alarmed if you see a curtain flutter in the window across the street.”

Nick came to full attention. Crystal, however, didn’t appear to be the least bit concerned about being watched. Winking badly, she said, “Most of the old women in Jasper Gulch spend half the day on the phone and the other half spying on their neighbors. The eighty-one-year-old widow across the street is no exception. Mrs. Fergusson has a weak heart, so you’d better draw the shade. We wouldn’t want her to see more than she bargained for now, would we?”

His jaw dropped in mild amazement. “The old lady in the next room locks her door because she doesn’t trust me and the one across the street is a window peeper. It looks as if I’m going to have to be on my best behavior at every turn.”

Easing out the door an inch at a time, Crystal said, “Something tells me your best behavior could be very dangerous to a woman who isn’t immune. There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall. Don’t forget about your shade. Oh, and if it’ll make you feel any better to rattle Mertyl’s doorknob, be my guest.”

Nick stared at the closed door for a full five seconds after she’d gone. Picking up where he’d left off with the sheet, he had an uncustomary urge to grin.

“A watched pot never boils, Savannah,” Brittany whispered, turning on the tap at the kitchen sink.

Savannah held her position in the doorway where she had a clear view of the living room sofa. “I’m not watching a pot. I’m watching Daddy. He looks different when he’s sleeping.”

Brittany waited until the coffeepot was filled with water before allowing herself to turn around. Savannah always rose before the crack of dawn, and today was no exception. She was wearing her favorite flannel nightgown and the fluffy moose slippers that made her feet look huge. It was still dark outside, but the kitchen light stretched into the next room, falling across the sofa where Nick was sleeping.

Brittany supposed Savannah was right. Nick did look different while he was sleeping. He was lying on his back, his feet hanging over one end of the sofa, Mertyl’s cat sound asleep on his thighs. One of Nick’s hands rested on the floor, the other arm was flopped over his head. His eyes were closed, his chest moving up and down with his even breathing. He should have looked completely at ease, devoid of all worry and tension. Only Nick Colter could look intense even in repose.

In the early years of their marriage she’d loved to watch him sleep. In those days they’d had a one-bedroom apartment that did little to keep out the sounds of faulty mufflers and hissing brakes and honking horns on the street below. While Savannah slept in her crib in the corner, Brittany would memorize her new husband’s face. She used to smooth a fingertip over his brow, down the crease in one lean cheek and across the shallow cleft in his chin.

More often than not, he woke up. Finding her watching him, an entirely different intensity would enter his eyes.

She shook herself back to the present. Pouring the water into the coffee maker, she wondered when he’d crept down the stairs and crashed on her sofa. It must have been after she’d dropped off to sleep in the wee hours of the morning. Until then, she’d lain awake, thinking about the kiss he’d given her in the study and what had gone wrong in their marriage. She should have known by now that it was useless to try to pinpoint any one thing.

“When will he wake up?” Savannah asked.

“It’s hard to say Savannah-banana.”

The little girl giggled into her hand, a gesture she’d picked up from Haley Carson, one of the older girls she’d befriended at school. “That’s what Daddy calls me.”

When the coffee started dripping through the filter, Brittany set out a bowl, cup and spoon for Savannah’s breakfast. While Savannah ate, Brittany put the oatmeal on for Mertyl and made the juice. Savannah was a chatterbox, but this morning she chattered in whispers, so as not to wake her father. Brittany helped herself to a cup of coffee, answering in whispers of her own. Taking that first sip, she looked at her child over the rim. Savannah was happy. Crystal claimed the child glowed. Brittany knew she’d done the right thing by moving to Jasper Gulch, even though the realization always left her feeling sad for what might have been.

Today Savannah was a bubbly, happy little girl. But for a year and a half Brittany had been afraid that Savannah would never be happy again. Her child had always been a light sleeper. One night almost two years ago she’d awakened in the night and had run screaming into Brittany’s bed. Two burglars wearing ski masks had broken into their apartment. Nick had been on a stakeout, and for twenty terrifying minutes, Brittany hadn’t known whether she and Savannah would survive the night. The only thing that had kept her from falling to pieces had been fear for Savannah’s safety. The burglars finally left with eighty-three dollars in quarters Brittany had been saving, a radio and a ring that had belonged to her mother.

The marriage had been strained for a long time, but suddenly Savannah was afraid of her own shadow, and Nick blamed himself for not being there. As a cop, he’d always taken on the world’s troubles and had tried to protect Brittany and Savannah from all of it. Arguing was nothing new to them, but their arguments took on a new dimension. Accusations and recriminations were hurtled in anger and couldn’t be taken back. Savannah’s banshee screams became commonplace in the middle of the night. Nick had always been intense, but this was different. He looked at her with guilt, making her wonder if he’d ever really looked at her with love.

How many times had Brittany insisted that she could take care of herself? How many times had Nick shouted that she shouldn’t have to? They yelled about things that weren’t really the issue, and never once mentioned the one thing that was.

And then, one day while she’d been rocking Savannah back to sleep, she saw a magazine article about a little town in South Dakota that was steadily losing all its women to the lure of better job prospects in the cities. Brittany had scanned the portion of the article about men who were shy but willing, her eyes catching on a statement proclaiming that the biggest crimes in Jasper Gulch were gossip and jaywalking.

Such a place had sounded like heaven, and seemed like an answer to her prayers. She’d read the article over and over. A few days later she’d shown it to Nick. She would never forget the dull look in his eyes when she’d told him she wanted to take Savannah and go there. She’d expected him to rant and rave. She’d hoped he would beg her not to leave. Instead, he’d turned his back to her and sighed. To Brittany, it had sounded painfully like relief.

He’d uttered only one word. “When?”

Although she couldn’t answer, that was the moment she’d faced the fact that their marriage was finally over.

“Can I wake Daddy up?” Savannah asked, bringing Brittany back to the present.

Brittany looked into the shadows in the living room and slowly shook her head. “Let him sleep a little longer. If he hasn’t opened his eyes by the time you’re ready for church, you can wake him then.”

Nick didn’t know where he was. His neck was stiff, his back ached, and his legs were numb from the knees down. He opened his eyes and turned his head and found himself staring into a pixie face three inches from his.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Morning.” He raised his knees, which felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds apiece, and heard, more than saw, the big yellow cat plop to the couch and then to the floor, yowling at having his sleep interrupted. Within seconds the cat was curled into a ball, his eyes closed once again.

“Daisy snores,” Savannah said seriously.

Eyeing the overweight cat, Nick thought it was aptly named. It was obviously more potted plant than pet.

“You sleep funny.”

Nick sat up in a flash and grabbed Savannah by the waist, tickling her until she begged him to stop. When her shrieks died down, she reached a hand to his jaw. “And you need to shave.”

Pressing his face into her hand and rubbing like sandpaper, he said, “When did you get so bossy? And I thought you were six, not sixty.”

Savannah wrinkled her nose and giggled again. “That’s what Mommy says.”

“Where is your mommy?”

“I’m right here, Nick.”

Brittany stepped into the room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Nick rose to his feet just as Crystal traipsed by in a ratty bathrobe and slippers. “What’s the matter?” the blonde asked. “Wasn’t your bed comfortable?”

She disappeared into the kitchen about the same time Mertyl appeared at the top of the stairs. In a feeble, frail little voice, she said, “I haven’t slept so well in years, but I must have a touch of the flu. Brittany, dear, where do you keep the aspirin?”

“They’re in a childproof bottle in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

“If you need help opening it,” Crystal called from the next room, “have Savannah help you.”

“You don’t have to yell, dear.”

Nick settled his hands to his hips and studied the old woman. If Mertyl Gentry had the flu, he would be a good candidate for the priesthood.

Savannah skipped into the kitchen, and suddenly Brittany didn’t appear to know where to look. Settling her gaze somewhere in the vicinity of his left shoulder, she said, “Savannah wanted to wake you, but I thought you needed your sleep. I’ve enrolled her in Miss Opal’s Sunday school class. It begins in half an hour.”

Nick rubbed the bleariness from his eyes. Last night he and Brittany had known a moment of passion, followed by a stretch of companionship, which had ended with a tense moment, during which she’d thrown up enough barriers to keep him firmly at bay. He’d spent a great deal of the night thinking about all three of those things, but his mind kept returning to the moment of passion.

He wanted to talk to her about their imminent divorce. Now he wondered if she was trying to make a statement with her black skirt and white sweater. Nothing had ever been black-and-white between them. Ever.

“You look nice,” he said quietly.

Brittany squared her shoulders and straightened her back. She knew what Nick was doing. It just so happened that she knew what she had to do, too. She would simply get back on even footing where he was concerned. She would be hospitable, friendly, ex-wifely. She’d rehearsed what she was going to say before falling asleep last night and again this morning while she’d been getting dressed for church.

Her plans hadn’t included training her eyes on Nick’s bare feet and slowly working her way higher.

When they’d been married, he’d slept in the nude. This morning he wore black sweat pants that clung in places ex-wives had no business looking. His wrinkled T-shirt had probably been black a hundred washings ago. It was stretched taut over his chest and shoulders, fitting him like a second skin. His jaw was dark with whisker stubble, his lips parted slightly.

“Guess I’d better hop in the shower, huh?” he asked.

His eyes delved into hers, leaving little doubt that the only place he was thinking about hopping into was bed. With her.

Savannah and Crystal were talking, their voices a low murmur in the next room. It reminded Brittany that she had to put a stop to this. She couldn’t harbor these fantasies every time he came to visit Savannah. And she wouldn’t. “Nick.”

“Hmm?” He took a step closer. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind that I decided to bunk down on the couch. I have no idea how anybody can call the country quiet. Honking horns and sirens are nothing compared to all the sighing of the wind, the rattling of the shutters and the creaking and groaning and shifting of this old house.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well.”

He held up one hand. “Hey, I’m explaining, not complaining. Guess I’d better go see about that shower. And I’d better unpack my razor. Savannah thinks I’ll look better after I shave.”

That proved to Brittany that little girls and grown women had entirely different opinions about what constituted a good-looking man. Nick had disappeared up the stairs before Brittany had realized he’d done it again. He’d taken her mind off what she was supposed to tell him and made her think about things she wasn’t supposed to think about anymore.

She massaged her forehead, wondering if Mertyl had found the aspirin. She wasn’t prone to headaches, but she felt one the size of Mount Rushmore coming on.

Raising her chin, she stared at the place Nick had slept. On second thought, she didn’t need aspirin. All she needed was a brisk attitude and a firm resolve.

Brisk and firm, Brittany reminded herself, hurrying Savannah into her coat twenty minutes later. Brisk and firm.

Her decision to leave Nick six months ago hadn’t been made lightly. If he had beaten her or chased other women or been an ax murderer, leaving might have been easier. As it was, it had been the single most difficult thing she’d ever done. She and Nick were both to blame, she supposed, and they both had reasons for the things they’d done. She had Savannah to think about, her daughter’s happiness and well-being much more important than the loneliness that had a way of slipping past Brittany’s defenses when she least expected.

She should have anticipated the drowsy, hazy thoughts she was having, now that she’d seen Nick again. More than anything, she should have expected this yearning to see him smile—when she knew darn well that Nick Colter rarely smiled. Forewarned should have been forearmed, and might have been if he had arrived when he’d said he would. She supposed she should have expected that, too.

OK, he’d caught her off guard. But she’d recovered.

She didn’t know why he was fiddling with the lock on the front door, and she didn’t see any reason to ask. From now on she was going to keep a handle on her resolve. Brisk and firm.

“Hurry, Daddy,” Savannah said. “Get your coat.”

Nick’s salute earned a giggle from Savannah and a brittle smile from Brittany. Nick didn’t say a word as he retrieved his bomber jacket from the back of the sofa and followed them out the door, but he’d seen drill sergeants with less-intimidating posture than Brittany’s.

They took her car, Savannah keeping up a steady stream of prattle all the way. The church sat on the corner of First and Church Streets. Like every other building in town, it could have used a coat of paint. Maybe that was part of its charm. Stained-glass windows gleamed in the morning sunshine, that same sun glinting off a white steeple high on the roof.

A group of women who were huddled on the steps looked up as he, Brittany and Savannah approached. “Morning, Miss Opal,” Savannah called.

“Good morning,” a short lady with a double chin called. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she lowered her voice. “Some of the other children have already arrived. Why don’t you go in and say hello?”

The moment Savannah disappeared through the double doors, another woman, this one tall and wearing a pinched expression, said, “I don’t know whether you’re aware, Brittany, but something dreadful happened at the wedding reception last night.”

“Merciful heavens,” the woman with the double chin interrupted, “something dreadful indeed. Why, somebody spiked the punch, and not one of the fine members of the Ladies Aid Society caught it until it was too late.”

The four other gray-haired women standing on the steps nodded their heads. Grimacing at the sudden movement, they placed a hand to their foreheads. The tall, skinny one said, “We’re calling a special meeting this afternoon during which we’ll try to recount the events leading to such a dreadful act. Perhaps someone saw something or someone.”

Nick knew the moment he came under suspicion. The leader of the group narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Brittany made short work of the introductions. When she was finished, Isabell Pruitt, the tall, skinny one who bore a striking resemblance to Olive Oyl, gave Nick a critical squint and said, “And what time did you arrive at the reception, Mr. Colter?”

Nick lifted one foot to the bottom step and smiled up at the woman. “I’m afraid I got there just about the time you fine ladies decided to do the Bunny Hop.”

All six of the women exchanged pained looks.

“Isabell,” Brittany said quietly, “it’s good to see you and Opal speaking again.”

“Yes,” Isabell said, nodding carefully. “We’ve decided to let bygones be bygones. And I must say our united front couldn’t have come at a more crucial time.”

Nodding gravely, Opal said, “The meeting will begin at one, Brittany. You’re more than welcome to join us. Were you planning to help in my class again this morning?”

Nick shook his head before Brittany could open her mouth. “Sorry, but Brittany’s been itching to give me a piece of her mind ever since I arrived. First things first, you know?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Opal muttered. “By all means, first things first.”

Brittany didn’t have the presence of mind to clamp her mouth shut until after the six staunchest members of the Jasper Gulch Ladies Aid Society had gone inside. Even then she stared at Nick for a full five seconds before she had formed a coherent thought. “What on earth possessed you to tell them that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“So?”

“So,” he answered, looking far too sure of himself for her peace of mind, “go ahead. Tell me whatever it is you’re so hell-bent to say. But you might as well know right now that I intend to change your mind about the divorce.”

The church bell rang, another gong keeping perfect time inside Brittany’s head. When it was quiet again, she said, “What are you talking about?”

He placed his foot back on the sidewalk and turned to face her. His movements were fluid, the expression in his blue eyes far more serious than she’d expected. “I’m talking about you and me and the feelings that are still between us. I’m talking about in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. But wait, don’t let me do all the talking. There’s something you want to say. You might as well say it while we walk.”

“You want to take a walk?”

“Yeah. I want to take a walk. Better yet, I want to play hookey. When was the last time you played hookey, Brittany?”

Brittany might have been able to resist the invitation in the depths of Nick’s eyes, but she couldn’t resist the challenge in his voice as he said, “What’s the matter? Don’t you trust yourself to be alone with me for five minutes?”

She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and hurried after him. “You’re something else, Nick Colter, do you know that?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“If you know, what makes you so sure I’ll walk with you?”

He was walking fast, and she was getting winded trying to keep up with him. He slowed down long enough to slip an arm around her back and steer her across the street. “Because I’m adorable?”

“You are not adorable.”

“Oh, really?” he asked quietly. “Why don’t you tell me how you’d describe me.”

Brittany removed her hands from her pockets and looked around. They had entered the alley that ran behind the stores on the east side of Main Street. Today was Sunday, and all the businesses were closed. Even the diner shut down one day a week, which meant that nobody was out and about. Except her and Nick.

Her heels clicked on the uneven, packed ground. Beside her, Nick’s footsteps were silent. The wind couldn’t reach them here in the alley. Without it the sun felt blessedly warm. It melted snow off rooftops, droplets of water clinging to the pointy tips of icicles before plopping into puddles like the first music of spring.

“Well?” Nick asked, their steps slowing, then stopping completely near the diner’s back door.

She wished she could blame the excitement inching through her veins on spring fever. But Nick wasn’t the only one who never lied. Unfortunately, there was more to the sighing of her heart than a change of seasons.

How would she describe him? she thought, staring up at him. This close he was very intimidating. And very handsome. He could torture her from now until eternity, but she’d never admit that out loud.

He moved without making a sound, his voice a husky baritone as he said, “What are you thinking?”

“I...never mind.”

He leaned toward her, his face inches from hers. “I think you’re thinking the same thing I’m thinking. That a kiss would be heaven and a warm bed even better.”

“That isn’t what I was thinking. At least not exactly,” she whispered, her eyes on his as he drew closer.

“Then what, exactly?”

His mouth brushed the corner of her lips, his breath warm on her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed when his lips moved over half an inch. “You’re a bully,” she whispered.

He kissed the indentation above her upper lip. “And?”

“And you’re too good-looking for your own good.”

“Is that anything like being adorable?”

His mouth covered hers like it had countless times before. His breathing became ragged, his kiss insistent. He slipped his arms around her back and pulled her tight to him, letting her know how much he wanted her.

In the darkest recesses of her mind, Brittany knew this wasn’t what she’d come here to do. But it had been so long since she’d felt this way, so long since she’d been giddy with anticipation and excitement, drunk on dreams and on desire. She tried to remind herself of the problems they’d had during their six-and-a-half-year marriage, but it wasn’t easy to remember her quiet hopelessness when Nick was kissing her and touching her, when he felt so good and smelled so good.

Nick heard Brittany’s sigh, saw her smile, felt her shudder. Sweet heaven. That’s what she was, what she’d always been. She was slender and soft as only a woman could be, pliant and aggressive in a way that was uniquely her own. It was a potent combination, and had him needing, seeking...more.

He opened his eyes for but an instant, just long enough to catch a movement at the very edge of his peripheral vision. He swung around, all his senses on red alert.

Brittany gasped for air and staggered. She hadn’t heard any sound, but before she could blink there was a scuffle and a grunt as Nick pinned a man against the building in the alley.

The man groaned. “What the—”

“All right,” Nick ground out, his mouth mere inches from the other man’s ear. “Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?”