She was tempted, so very tempted. But men said whatever they thought necessary to get what they wanted. They sought out your weaknesses and used them against you. Men did that sort of thing. Gerald had.
He tilted her chin upward, forcing her to face him. Her eyes widened with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Every word he said was true, but how could he make her believe him? 'Addy?'
'I'm not going to sleep with you, so you might as well give up on me. I—I don't like sex, and I refuse to become one more in a long line of women who've shared your bed.'
Releasing her chin, Nick stepped away from her, but didn't break eye contact. 'You didn't like sex with Gerald. That doesn't mean you won't like sex with me.'
'You are, without a doubt, the most egotistical man I've ever known. I'm no good at sex, and not even a Latin stud like you can change what's lacking in me. I'd disappoint you, Nick, so why don't you stop pursuing me and put us both out of our misery?'
'The only thing that's going to put us out of our misery is making love. I've just got to figure out a way to prove myself to you.' Walking over to the stereo unit hidden inside the huge oak cupboard, Nick checked through Addy's tape and disk collection. 'Don't you have anything except classical and semi-classical stuff?' He held up a tape. 'Well, what have we here? It's not exactly Ricky Van Shelton, but it's not Beethoven either.'
Addy couldn't stop looking at him, puzzled by the sudden change in his conversation from something extremely personal to something totally insignificant. What was he trying to do, throw her off guard?
Nick inserted the tape in the player, then leaning heavily on his cane, walked over and sat down on the sofa, tossing several pillows onto a nearby round table. Suddenly the sound of soft, romantic music permeated the room. The mixed voices of men and women sang 'Close to You.' Nick patted the sofa. 'Come sit down and we'll talk.'
Addy gave him a wary stare. 'I don't trust you.'
'Yes, you do. It's yourself you don't trust.'
Addy moved toward Nick, slowly, cautiously, intent on proving him wrong. A show of bravado was called for here. She wasn't a silly young woman eager to believe a man's sweet lies. She was a woman who'd gone through her trial of fire, and she could handle anything, including the likes of Nick Romero.
Addy sat down, making sure she was as far from Nick as she could possibly get while sharing the same small sofa with him. 'I don't want to talk about sex.'
'Fine. Let's talk about Addy McConnell when she was a little girl.' Nick scooted several inches toward her, then propped his big feet on a tiny needlepoint footstool. 'What did you do for fun?'
'I—I took riding lessons, swimming lessons, tennis lessons, piano lessons—'
'Whoa, Red! I asked what you did for fun. Lessons aren't fun.'
'I enjoyed my lessons, even if there were never any other children around
An entirely instrumental rendition of the 'Gone with the Wind' theme filled the room. Addy sighed. Nick smiled.
'You really were a poor little rich girl, weren't you? An overprotected, pampered Southern belle in a golden cage. Didn't you ever spend any time with other kids?'
'No. Only when Janice was allowed to visit and when Daddy gave me my yearly birthday party.' Addy remembered those precious visits with Janice, who had become her dearest friend—her only friend. And the parties had been like dreams fulfilled when the children of M.A.C. employees were brought out to the mansion to celebrate her birthday.
'What about school?' Nick inched closer to Addy. She didn't seem to notice.
'I had private tutors. Public school was never considered, and Daddy thought private schools weren't safe.'
'Are you saying that you never did anything just for fun? Spontaneous things? Crazy things?'
'Everything I did had to be supervised, otherwise it was unsafe. I—I did have privacy in my room. I learned to escape into books. They became my friends.' It had been in those books that she had become a part of the fantasies, the romantic legends, the tales of knights and their ladies. As a child she had first read of Charlemagne and his twelve paladins—the
When Nick eased his arm around her shoulders, she started to pull away, but realized that she didn't want to leave the warm comfort of his embrace.
'There was a world of difference in our childhoods. Nobody ever watched over me. The only person who even cared where I was or what I was doing was my grandmother. My father was a field hand who was either working or boozing it up. He finally drank himself to death.' Nick tightened his hold on Addy when she snuggled against him, bending her knees as she lifted her feet onto the sofa.
'What about your mother?' Addy asked.
'My mother.' Nick grunted. How could he possibly explain a woman like Kitty Romero to Addy? 'My mother liked men. All men. While my father drank, she whored around. She left us, my brother Miguel and me, when I was ten.'
'Oh, Nick, I know how difficult it is to lose a mother.'
'Red, losing my mother was a godsend. She was nothing but white trash. My grandmother was the only mother we ever really knew. Kitty did us a big favor by leaving.'
Addy could hear the pain in Nick's voice, the anger he tried so hard to deny. When she laid her head on his shoulder, she felt him stiffen and then relax. 'My mother committed suicide when I was ten. She—she had a nervous breakdown after Donnie … when Donnie was murdered.'
'I didn't intend for us to talk about gloomy subjects.' He loved the feel of her so close to him, her head resting against him, her whole body snuggling to him with such trust.
'Then maybe we shouldn't talk about our childhoods.'
'Mine wasn't all bad,' he said, reaching down to take her hand in his, holding it palm up. 'Miguel and I were close, and we had a lot of fun together. He was five years older, but he never tried to brush me off so he could run with the older guys. He took me everywhere with him.' Suddenly, Nick's whole body tightened, his face rigid. 'Damn!'
'What's wrong?' She gazed up into his face and almost cried at the sorrow she saw in his dark eyes.
'I can't seem to steer clear of gloom and doom.' When she stared at him questioningly, he said, 'Miguel was killed in an oil rig accident when I was seventeen. God, I thought I'd die when we lost him!'
'He—Miguel was married to Dina.'
'Yeah.' Nick squeezed her hand, then released it and withdrew his arm from around her shoulders. He looked at her, sensing the waves of sympathy flowing from her, washing over him. He grabbed her face in his big hands, cradling her gently. 'Tell me about your birthday parties, Red. I never had a birthday party in my whole life.'
Instantly Addy realized that he didn't want to talk about Miguel and Dina and his relationship with them. Addy smiled at Nick. 'Oh, my birthday parties were grand affairs. We had them at Elm Hill before Mama died, and then at Daddy's new house afterward. All of M.A.C.'s employees' children came. It was always a catered affair with a huge cake, ice sculptures that held the ice cream and thousands of helium balloons released into the air. And entertainment. A pony ride, a clown, and a band when I got older.' Tears gathered in her eyes. She willed them away. She didn't cry. Not ever. Not anymore. 'I always loved my birthdays. It was the only time I never felt— confined.'
'I got invited to a birthday party once. One of the kids at school. I don't think I ever envied another kid so much in all my life.' Nick ran his hands down Addy's neck, across her shoulders, and down her arms. He stopped at her waist. 'It was no big production like your parties. Just cake and ice cream. A few drooping balloons. But what I remember were the presents. All that bright wrapping paper and ribbons and all those gifts.' He pulled Addy toward him. She went willingly. 'I was lucky if I got one present at Christmas, and never on my birthday. Grandma would always remember. When I was little she'd give me a dime to go to the store for ice cream. We were so damned poor.'
'My father grew up poor, too.' Addy could not resist the hunger in Nick's eyes. 'You and Daddy really do have a great deal in common, don't you?'
'Yeah, in more ways than you'd ever imagine.' Nick lowered his head, his lips brushing hers. 'We both care a hell of a lot about you.'
Being kissed by Nick Romero was very much like being burned by a painless fire, a fire that consumed and left you hot but unharmed. His lips were warm and damp and demanding. He nibbled, he teased, then parried before
