The Night that Changed Everything (12 page)

Now both of Nick’s brows shot up. He sat up straighter, looking first surprised, then almost bemused. After a moment, he settled back in his chair and picked up his own cup, holding it easily. “Aren’t you?” His tone betrayed only mild interest, making Edie feel like an idiot. But she’d already begun, so she forged ahead.

“No. And yes, I know, you haven’t asked.” There, she’d pointed out the obvious, too. “But since we did once—” she took a quick breath “—I thought the issue could come up again.”

“It could,” Nick agreed. His tone was still mild, but there was a hint of something else, something deeper, yet definitely suggestive that told her she hadn’t entirely misread the situation.

She met his gaze head-on. “So I thought I should make it clear up-front that it’s not going to happen.”

For a long moment Nick didn’t say anything, but his gaze never wavered. Then finally, after what seemed like an eon, but was probably less than half a minute, he asked, “Why not?”

Edie swallowed. Her mouth was dry and her palms were damp, and she was already regretting having opened her mouth. She didn’t do confrontation. Ever. She was a negotiator, not a battler.

Now she said, “It isn’t that I didn’t enjoy it.” Her gaze dropped. She couldn’t look at him squarely now. “I did,” she admitted. Her cheeks were on fire.

“I’m glad.” Nick’s tone was grave, but when she dared look up, Edie thought she saw his lips twitch.

“You’re laughing at me.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I’m … baffled.” He set down his
cup and seemed to draw himself together. “I was under the impression that we had both enjoyed it.”

“Yes, well, um,” Edie said. “I’m glad you did, too. But that was it.”

“It?”

“A one-off. You said so yourself.”

She thought his jaw tightened fractionally, but in the shadows she couldn’t be sure.

“It wasn’t a hard and fast rule.” His tone was gruff. “I don’t turn into a pumpkin if I make love to a woman two times.”

Edie’s mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “I’m glad.”

“Do you?” he challenged her.

Slowly she shook her head. “Not a pumpkin, no.”

“Well, then?” he demanded. Their eyes met again. She didn’t see anger in his, thank heavens. It was more curiosity.

“I could fall in love with you.”

“What?” His cup hit the table with a decided
thump
. Then he went absolutely still. “In love with me?” He sounded at worst appalled, at best disbelieving.

Edie shrugged. Too late to turn back now. “After … after Ben died,” she explained, “I felt like I’d died, too.”

Nick nodded almost impatiently. “Yeah.”

“Months passed. I wasn’t interested in going out. I didn’t care about dating again. I … wasn’t interested in any man.” She hesitated, then spelled it out. “Until you.”

“You don’t love me,” he protested.

“I know that!” Edie said fiercely. “But I like you.”

“Yeah, well, I like you, too,” he said, frowning. “But I’m not falling in love with you!”

“Exactly,” Edie said. “And if I am starting to feel things again, I don’t want to fall for someone who isn’t interested. I’ve already done that,” she told him.

He scowled. “When?”

“I was eighteen. Young, foolish. I should have known better. You remember the actor with my mother at Mont Chamion?”

“Him?” Nick looked appalled.

“He was charming. We dated. It meant more to me than it did to him.” She refused to go into all the bloody details. “It wasn’t like that with Ben,” she said. “So I know how it’s supposed to be.”

“You do, do you?” His dark eyes glittered with challenge.

But Edie had no doubts about that. She wrapped her fingers around the coffee mug and met his gaze squarely. “Yes.”

Nick’s mouth twisted. His fingers drummed lightly on the tabletop. With his other hand he carried his coffee cup to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. He still didn’t speak.

Neither did she. Just as well. She’d probably already said far too much.

The waiter came and refilled Nick’s cup, but Edie put a hand over hers and shook her head with a smile. “I’ve had enough,” she said. “I won’t sleep if I drink anymore.”

The waiter shot a conspiratorial male look in Nick’s direction. “Sleep is overrated.”

Nick made an inarticulate sound, then said harshly, “Could you bring the check, please.”

Edie reached for her purse. “I’ll get it.”

Dark eyes flashed. “The hell you will.”

“It’s business,” Edie protested. “My mother—”

“Your mother has nothing to do with this!” Nick pulled out his credit card and thrust it at the returning waiter before he could even reach the table.

“Really, Nick—”

“Stop arguing, Edie.” His tone was flat and uncompromising. “And put your wallet away.”

Reluctantly Edie put it away. “I don’t expect—”

“You’ve already made what you expect and don’t expect quite clear. Let me make something clear, too—when I invite a woman out to dinner, I expect to pay. Got it?”

“Got it,” Edie muttered.

The waiter came back with the tab, which Nick scanned
quickly, nodded and signed, then tucked his card and the receipt back in his wallet.

“You can tax deduct it,” Edie suggested.

Nick glared at her. Then he stood and came around the table to pull out her chair for her before she could push the chair back and get up herself. All very gentlemanly and polite. Just as if she couldn’t hear him grinding his teeth.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as she stood. “And thank you for dinner.”

“My pleasure,” he lied. It had to be a lie. The hum of awareness was still there, but so was a sizzle of annoyance.

Edie quickened her steps as they headed for the exit. But the toe of her sandal caught on a protruding chair leg. She stumbled. Nick’s hand shot out to catch her arm and keep her from falling.

“Thank you,” she said, breathless.

“No problem,” he said, tersely.

The problem was that he didn’t let go. He walked beside her as they headed toward the lot where he’d parked the car, his fingers stayed on her arm. Through the thin cotton of her dress, she could feel them as if there was no barrier at all between them.

Once in the car, she gave him directions on how to get out of Santa Barbara and back up into the hills to Mona’s house. He’d found it himself during the day. She knew it wasn’t as easy at night. He didn’t argue. He didn’t discuss. He didn’t talk at all. He followed her instructions without comment.

He didn’t speak again until he’d parked the car and they were climbing the steps to her apartment.

She would have protested that she didn’t need to be escorted to the door, but there was an implacability about him now that made her hold her tongue. If he wanted to walk all the way up, so be it. He wasn’t coming in.

The porch wasn’t big. As she got out her key, he was close enough that she could smell the woodsy scent of his aftershave. He was close enough that if she turned, she could go up on her tiptoes and kiss his lips.

She didn’t turn. In fact she was glad she managed to stick the key in the lock without fumbling as her hands were trembling slightly. Only when she had the key in the lock, did she look around. “Thank you for dinner,” she said politely.

Nick grunted, his lips pressed in a thin line. So much for all that Savas charm.

She gave him a quick smile, pushed open the door and went in. Roy came bounding to meet her.

“Edie.”

She caught Roy by the collar and looked back at Nick. “Yes?”

His dark eyes bored into hers. “It’s not a given, you know.”

It? “What’s not?”

“That you’ll fall in love. People
choose
whether or not to fall in love. It’s always a choice.”

“It’s—”

“Always a choice,” he repeated firmly, cutting her off. “You just need to choose not to.”

Edie opened her mouth to protest, but even as she did so, she knew there was no point. If Nick believed that, they would have to agree to disagree. “Good night, Nick.”

“Good night, Edie.” His tone was ever so slightly mocking. A corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Let me know when you change your mind.”

In the morning, he was gone.

She wasn’t surprised to look out the window and see that his car wasn’t there. He’d obviously decided that if bedding her wasn’t going to be a perk of Mona’s renovation job, he didn’t want to be bothered.

In some perverse way, Edie thought perhaps she should be flattered.

At least it meant he had enjoyed their night together in Mont Chamion. But of course it also meant that he saw her presence as nothing more than an opportunity for physical release.

Maybe not so flattering after all.

“So I’m glad I said what I did,” she told Roy over her morning oatmeal.

The dog cocked his head and grinned at her, then looked hopefully at the toast she was buttering.

“You’ve had enough,” she told him. “And I don’t feed you from the table.”

But try convincing Roy of that. He made a low whining sound and didn’t budge or blink an eye as long as the oatmeal and toast lasted. Edie rolled her eyes at him.

He grinned happily, then ambled over to Mona’s house with her when she went over at nine to start work. She knew what he was thinking: it was always possible she would stop for a snack midmorning. He wouldn’t want to miss that.

There was no sign in the kitchen that Nick had eaten before he’d left. It was just the way she’d left it yesterday—as if he’d never been here, as if it had all been a dream.

It hadn’t been a dream. Perhaps, though, Edie thought, it was a wake-up call.

Maybe Mona was right. Now that her hormones had been reawakened, maybe it was time for her to stop sitting at home and waiting for the right man to appear in her life. After the disastrous end to her relationship with Kyle, she hadn’t sat home and moped. She’d gone back to the university where, a few months later, she’d met Ben.

He’d been the right man, just as clearly as Kyle had been the wrong one.

Maybe, now it was time to do that again. She had loved Ben, but she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone. Ben wouldn’t have wanted her to. So if Nick Savas was the wrong man, it was up to her to find the right one.

He’d done her a favor.

She kept telling herself that.

She even acted on it. When Derek Saito, a local English teacher, called that morning to ask if Mona would come and talk to the drama class when school started, she didn’t just take
down the information and promise to check with Mona and call him back. She actually chatted with him.

Derek was Ronan’s age. They’d been in the same class in school. They’d been surfing buddies and had played tennis together. He’d been Ben’s friend, too. And she remembered well how kind he’d been to her after Ben’s death. Now, after she caught him up on what Ronan was up to, he asked about her.

“I’m all right,” she said. “Working hard.”

“Too hard, I’d guess.” Derek knew her well. “As usual.”

Every other time Edie had disagreed. But today she said, “You could be right. I need to get out more.”

There was a pause, as if Derek hadn’t been expecting that. But then he said, “So, want to go out with me?” There was a quick pause, then he said, “I’m not hitting on you, Edie. Not yet,” he qualified. “Ben was too good a friend. But there’s a concert on campus Friday night. Old-timers. Couple of eighties rock groups. Pure nostalgia … if you’re interested?”

It sounded like fun. And Derek was a friend. She doubted he’d ever be more than that, but why not go? What was there to stay home for?

“I’m interested,” she said. “Yes.”

“Great!” There was a sudden spike of enthusiasm in his voice. “Dinner first?”

“I could cook,” Edie offered.

“No. We’ll grab a burger or something. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Shall I meet you at the restaurant? You wouldn’t have to come all the way out here.” Derek lived in town. The university was several miles on the other side.

“I’ll pick you up. My pleasure,” he said. “See you then.”

But the moment Edie hung up, she sat there a moment thinking,
What have I done?

“Nothing,” she said out loud with all the firmness she could muster. “You’re going out with a friend. You’re getting a life. Mona will be proud,” she added wryly.

Speaking of whom, she had a few words to say to her mother. So she picked up the phone again and tried to ring Mona. Again she got no answer.

She’d already tried twice this morning, right after she’d come into the office. There had been no answer then, either, so apparently Mona was still out of range.

She supposed Nick had sent her an email to say he had decided not to do the renovations. Serve her right, Edie thought, for all her meddling.

But a part of her felt a little bereft because the adobe wouldn’t be salvaged. Going back over there with Nick had reminded her that once upon a time it had been a nice house, that she had made lots of good memories there. She had hoped to make more with Ben, though, to be honest she wasn’t sure that ever would have happened. She’d thought that maybe when they’d come back from Fiji they could have fixed it up as a vacation house, even though they’d probably live elsewhere close to wherever Ben worked—somewhere right on the water.

Now none of it would happen.

Life was what happened when you were making other plans. She thought it was John Lennon who had said that. But Mona said it, too. Her mother was just a fount of wisdom these days, Edie thought grimly.

At least she had made a plan. She was going to a concert with Derek on Friday. And this afternoon she was going to finish doing the filing she’d intended to do yesterday when Nick Savas had been the “life” that had interrupted her plans.

The phone rang. Edie picked it up. “Edie Daley.”

“Hey,” a gruff masculine voice she hadn’t expect to hear ever again said into her ear, “can you meet me at the adobe with your key? I’ve got tools and a truckload of roofing tiles to unload.”

S
HE
was still an annoyingly attractive woman, even when she stood there, hands on her hips, watching him back a truck down to the adobe, with her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Nick gave her a wave and a cheerful grin through the open window as he passed. “Thanks.”

If she replied, he didn’t hear her. He didn’t see her mouth move, either, but he was focused on getting the truck as close to the house as he could. When he had, he flicked off the engine and hopped out.

Edie was still standing in the yard. “What are you doing?” she demanded as he walked toward her.

“Going to start with the roof. Figured while
I
was in town, I’d see if
I
could get what
I
needed.” He shrugged and spread his hands. “
I
did.”

He couldn’t get all of the tiles he would need. But he got all they had at the moment with more on order. By the time they arrived he would be ready for them. In the meantime he had to finish pulling the rest of the old roof off.

“You left,” Edie said.

“No.
I
went into town. Had to file permits, pick up materials.” He gave her his best sunny smile.

She still had her hands on her hips. “
I
thought you’d changed your mind and gone.”

He’d considered it. Half the night, which he’d spent either restlessly prowling the house or swimming laps in the damn pool
to take the edge off his frustration, he’d thought about cutting his losses, packing his bags and hitting the road.

God knew he had plenty of other jobs he could be working on. He had commitments lined up for the next two years. He’d had to do some serious shuffling to fit Mona’s little ranch house in.

Which was why he was staying, he told himself. He’d said he would. But in fact he hadn’t told Mona yet. She was unreachable—off somewhere at the ends of the earth in Southeast Asia shooting a film. She wouldn’t even know he’d changed his mind until he was gone.

But he didn’t go—wasn’t going—because of the expressions on Edie’s face when she’d walked around the old adobe yesterday afternoon. He’d been examining the walls, the roof, the foundation. But even more, he’d been studying Edie.

Her face was such a mixture of wistfulness, yearning, happiness and sadness as she’d drifted through the rooms, run her fingers over the woodwork, stood staring out the windows, that he’d spent far less time going over the bones of the house and far more time watching her.

And last night after her “I’m not sleeping with you” announcement, after which he’d been ready to leave, he remembered the way she looked, and he couldn’t go.

Instead he’d gone downstairs and wandered around Mona’s house looking at all the photos on the piano, on the bookshelves, on the walls.

Mona had her share of fine paintings and prints by well-known and not-so-well-known artists. But by far the most numerous framed pieces were family photos. Not one of them was of Mona alone—they were all of her children, her spouses (Edie’s dad and the exes, he gathered) or family group shots.

There were a lot of Edie.

In the kitchen there were magnetic snapshots on the refrigerator—of all the kids, but he only noticed Edie. In one she was playing in the pool, her head thrown back as she laughed. In
another she had her arms looped over the shoulders of a pair of identical redheaded young boys. They were freckled and gangly, but they had Edie’s eyes. In a third she was sitting on the patio with her arms around Roy. She was smiling, but the wistfulness was there in this one.

He found others as well. He looked at them all—Edie as a girl on a pony with a boy who had to be her older brother, Edie suited up to play volleyball at some high school, Edie and Rhiannon, Edie and another girl who was also probably a sister, more of Edie and the twins. Edie and a handsome young man with their arms around each other and expressions of pure delight on their faces. It had to be Edie and her husband.

He almost couldn’t look at that one, knowing what he knew. He wondered that she could. But there were several, including a larger more formal portrait that must have been taken on their wedding day. It was in pride of place on the piano. She must see it every single day.

He hadn’t looked at a photo of Amy in years.

The photos—and the memory of Edie’s face that afternoon—made him stay. She wanted the house salvaged. He could give her that.

Besides, he wasn’t a quitter.

If she thought she could just say no and make them both miserable—well, she was wrong. He’d leave when he was good and ready to leave, when he could turn his back and walk away, which he would.

Because, as he’d told her, love was a choice. And he’d done it once. He wasn’t doing it again. Ever. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy their time together.

He started off-loading the tiles. “You could help,” he suggested, slanting her a glance. “Or not.”

Edie didn’t move for a long moment, but then he heard her footsteps coming toward the truck. “Ten minutes,” she said. “Then I have to get back to work.”

He was
staying?

Still poleaxed from his phone call, Edie stared after Nick as he carried an armful of tiles to a spot near the side of the house. She still felt as if the breath had been knocked right out of her. She was giddy and panicky and perversely elated. At the same time she was trying not to feel anything at all.

She knew what he was doing.

He was calling her bluff. He was going to make her prove she could resist him. She ground her teeth, glaring at his back. But then, having put down the tiles, he straightened and turned and looked right at her, and she felt the giddiness again, and hoped to goodness she could do what she’d told herself—and him—was necessary.

It
was
necessary!

She knew herself. She knew how invested she became in relationships. She knew the pain that her unrequited love for Kyle had caused her. Even having gone to bed with Nick once had undermined her ability to remain uninvolved. She had told herself she could—but in the end, she’d cared.

She hadn’t fallen in love. But she hadn’t been able to forget him, either.

Now once more she tried to imagine taking Nick to her bed for as long as he was here, then smiling and saying goodbye whenever the house was finished.

Or sooner.

There was no guarantee he wouldn’t get bored with her much sooner than it took him to finish the house!

He could share a bed with her once more or five times more and then decide it was time to move on, find another woman. He wouldn’t even have to flaunt her in front of Edie. He could simply find a new bedmate.

And she’d be left, gutted, heartbroken.

In the end Nick was right—it
was
simple.

But he was wrong, too. He might find it easy to choose where he loved. But could she?

Again the answer was simple: no.

So she turned her head, refused to let her gaze linger on his easy walk, his lean muscular body, his smile, the gleam in his eyes. She helped him move the tiles, and tried to think about something else.

And when they had the truck unloaded, she said, “Goodbye.”

“Au revoir,”
Nick said cheerfully. “That means I’ll see you again.”

“I know what it means,” Edie said shortly. She felt like saying,
Not if I see you first.
“Come, Roy.”

But Roy, perversely, was too busy following Nick around, watching what he was doing, deftly catching the occasional treat Nick tossed his way.

“I saw that,” Edie accused him. “Roy, come on!”

But Roy only had eyes for Nick.

“He’s my friend,” Nick told her, grinning.

“Because you’re bribing him,” Edie said indignantly.

“You haven’t ever heard the old saying, ‘The way to a dog’s heart is through his stomach’?”

Edie shot him a glare to keep from laughing. “Fine. Keep him with you. Just don’t overdo it,” she said irritably. “And don’t lose him.”

“No fear. We’ll both be back for dinner,” Nick promised.

Edie grunted her lack of enthusiasm about that and started up the hill.

“I’ll pick up a pizza,” Nick called after her. “What kind do you like?”

She didn’t answer that. “I’m going to be busy.” Busy avoiding him.

But if Nick got the message, he ignored it. “See you later.”

She tried to make sure that wouldn’t happen. She finished up at work early. She swam her laps early, so she would be done before he got back. And she was in her apartment making a salad for dinner when she heard his car.

The only reason she looked out the window was to see that
Roy was with him. Once she saw the big black dog, she turned away. So she wasn’t prepared for the knock on her door.

“We’re back,” Nick announced unnecessarily. He had a pizza box in one hand.

She didn’t invite him in. Apparently she didn’t need to. He came in just the way Roy did, without an invitation. Only while Roy went straight to the food dish, Nick paused to look around at the overstuffed sofa and chair, the craftsman style bookcases and the library table that doubled as her dining room table. He nodded his approval. “Nice place. Suits you.” He spotted the cat on the windowsill. “Who’s this?”

“Gerald,” Edie told him. “What are you doing here? I didn’t invite you,” she said pointedly.

“No, I invited you,” Nick agreed. “For pizza,” he reminded her when she looked blank.

“I said I was busy.”

He looked around at the evidence of her doing absolutely nothing other than tearing up some salad greens. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Breath hissed through Edie’s teeth. “I don’t want to have dinner with you.”

“Because you’ll fall in love with me.” He paused, then the grin flashed again. “Or am I making myself so obnoxious that you can’t stand me?”

“Getting close,” Edie said, determined not to smile.

Nick shrugged equably. “Well, if you don’t want to share the pizza with me …” He waved the box close enough that she could smell sausage and other mouth-watering pizza sorts of smells as he moved toward the door. Edie’s stomach growled.

“Oh, fine. Sit down,” she snapped.

He beamed. “Will do. Gotta clean up a bit first. You take care of this while I grab a quick shower.” He thrust the pizza box into her hands. “Don’t eat it all before I get back.” And he ran lightly back down her stairs and headed for Mona’s house.

She put the pizza in the oven and turned the heat on low
to keep it warm. Then she finished making the salad, adding enough for him now, and set the table for two. Roy looked hopeful. Gerald came over to see if there was something for him. Edie fed them both.

Then she told them sternly, “That’s all you get. No sitting around watching us, looking hopeful.”

“No, that would be me.”

She whipped around to see Nick standing in the doorway. He gave her what was undeniably a hopeful look, tempered with a grin, as his gaze slid over her, making her all too aware of what he was hoping for. Edie steeled her heart—and her hormones.

“Don’t,” she said firmly.

He shrugged. “Okay,” he said easily, dropping the hopeful look and heading straight for the table with the same single-mindedness Roy and Gerald had shown. “Starving,” he said as he put a piece of pizza on her plate and one on his. Then he dished her up some salad and took some for himself. “This looks great.”

It did. And she was hungry. So she ate.

For the first few minutes there was silence as they were both focused on the meal. But eventually Edie had had enough to be far more aware of the man than of the meal he’d brought.

When he finished his fourth piece of pizza, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Ripping off a roof gives a guy an appetite.”

She’d noticed that he’d already begun when he’d called her to bring the key. Now she reached over to the counter and plucked it up and held it out to him. “You’d better have this. Then you won’t have to keep calling me.”

His lips twisted, but he took the key and stuffed it into the pocket of the canvas shorts he was wearing. “Thanks.”

Their gazes met again. His dark eyes regarded her warmly. A slight smile played across his lips. She abruptly got up and carried her plate to the sink. “Thank you for the pizza,” she said, running water to wash the dishes.

“Thank you for the salad,” he said equally politely. He came up behind her, set his plate on the counter. He was so near she could feel the heat of his body. She added dish soap to the water, then began putting the dishes in, all the while aware of him right behind her. And equally aware when he moved away.

She breathed again.

“I’ve got some planning to do,” he said. “So I’ll say good night.”

She looked over her shoulder, surprised.

Nick shrugged. “Unless you have a better idea?” There was that hint of hope again.

Edie shook her head. “No. No. I—good night.”

It was the right thing to do, she assured herself when the door closed behind him and she heard his feet going down the steps. It was safer—far far safer—this way.

Nick finished ripping the roof off the next morning. The following day he cleaned and sorted tiles. It had been a while since he’d worked on a roof like this one. Putting new and old tiles together was a tricky business. He wanted to take his time.

And he wanted Edie to come back.

She hadn’t been here since the first day. He barely saw her except at dinner. Somehow they managed to eat that together every night. Either she cooked and apparently felt obligated to feed him—”Mona’s hospitality is legendary,” she said, making it clear the meals were an extension of it—or he went into town and picked up take-away.

But other than at dinner, he didn’t see her. She didn’t come around the adobe at all. Well, no, that wasn’t true. She was certainly there in spirit—in his head—even if she didn’t set foot in the place.

On Friday as he removed the last of the rotten front porch beams before he put the new one up this afternoon, he could look across the roof line and see the rusty swing set near the trees.

Edie hadn’t gone near it when she’d shown him the house, but he knew she must have played there as a child.