Winds of Heaven (13 page)

“I admire her spirit,” Nick said, lifting his drink in mock salute. “And I also admire her very attractive dress.”

“Men!” she murmured under her breath. “They’re all alike.”

His gray eyes laughed at her above the rim of his glass. “Careful,” he admonished solemnly. “Someone might accuse you of making a chauvinistic remark.”

A smile tugged at her lips, but she resisted stoically. “Excuse me,” she said with a tilt of her chin. “I’m going to find a conversational partner who can look past a woman’s clothing to the person beneath.”

Kylie winced at her poor choice of words, but Nick merely arched his brows and wisely didn’t follow through on the comment.

“Why don’t you do that?” he answered in a maddeningly patient voice. “I’ll find you when it’s time to leave.”

With a nod she moved to the opposite side of the room, wondering with each step why she was upset with Nick. Maybe things were moving too fast for her. Her gaze retraced her path to linger on his profile. How had his opinion and his attitudes become so important to her in such a short time?

Noticing her pensive study of him, Nick smiled, and Kylie knew it was an open invitation to “agree to disagree.” The sensible thing to do, of course. But she wouldn’t return to his side, not just yet.

Kylie dulled the temptation with a second glass of wine and an intriguing conversation with a man she’d met earlier in the evening. Quite by chance she discovered he was a business owner from Albuquerque and that he was looking for an employee-incentive program.

She explained her own ideas and the basic premise of her seminars. He seemed receptive, even asked her to call him in a few weeks when she’d finished the training at Southwest. It sounded like a good opportunity, and she smiled easily at Nick when he touched her arm.

“Are you ready to leave?” he asked.

Kylie nodded. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Sanders.”

The balding man looked past her to Nick. “Miss Richards has been telling me about her seminars. I was surprised to hear she’s giving one for your company. You don’t usually go in for that type of employee training, do you, Braden?”

“No.” Nick put his hand at the small of Kylie’s back and started to move away, but Mr. Sanders followed.

“But you did this time,” the man persisted.

“Yes.”

Kylie glanced at Nick in surprise, wondering at his terse answer.

“Miss Richards must have a seminar that’s worthwhile, then,” Mr. Sanders continued, obviously determined to get an answer out of Nick. “Do you recommend it, Braden?”

Kylie felt the tension that rippled through Nick as he reluctantly slowed his pace. His hand moved protectively to her shoulder and then down her arm in short soothing strokes as he faced Jonathan Sanders. Nick drew a deep breath but still hesitated before answering—just a second or two, but long enough. “Miss Richards is very ... capable.”

The word stole through Kylie, leaving her shaken and disbelieving.
Capable?
It was worse than saying nothing at all.
Capable!
She wanted to vent some of her capabilities on Nick at that moment, but she kept a tight rein on her emotions. Somehow she managed a reassuring smile at Mr. Sanders. “I’ll give you a call.”

The man’s gaze fell to where Nick’s hand caressed her bare arm, soothingly, possessively, suggestively. Then he looked uncomfortably away, obviously drawing his own conclusions. “That’s all right. It would probably be best if I get in touch with you.”

Kylie didn’t remember saying good night to her hostess, and she didn’t remember the walk to the car.

But the drive home was something she knew she’d never forget. It was the coldest she’d ever been on a summer night.

The silence was ear-splitting, but she would have died rather than say one word to Nick.

“I’m sorry, Kylie,” Nick said the moment they entered the house. “I know you’re upset, but I couldn’t lie to the man.”

She whirled on him. “No, of course you couldn’t! And of course you couldn’t say anything positive. You had to be honest.
Honest!
That’s a laugh.
She’s capable,
you said. And you stood there rubbing my arm like I was capable of... of... Do you realize what he thought, Nick? What you
let
him think?”

“I’m not responsible for what the man thought, Kylie. You know I had no intention of putting him off.”

“Really?”  Her voice dripped sarcasm.  “And I don’t suppose you intended to make such a dishonest and insulting insinuation, either.”

The cleft in his chin marked his irritation. “I’ve already apologized. If it will make you feel better, I’ll call Sanders and explain the whole misunderstanding.”

“No, thanks. I don’t need your help. After I’ve finished the seminar at Southwest, the production report will be all the explanation I need. Mr. Sanders will understand that, I’m sure, without any clarification from you.”

“You haven’t finished the seminar yet, Kylie.”

His lack of confidence in her spurred her determination. “Oh, but I will, if only to prove to you how very
capable
I am. I hope you like crow, Nick, because you’re going to eat your words, one by one. I’m going to make sure you do.”

He smiled, but his eyes, at last, held no hint of amusement. “I admire your spirit, Kylie. If that day ever comes, borrow Stephanie’s dress, would you? I prefer to have dinner with a woman who at least looks feminine.”

“And I prefer not to speak to a man who is so threatened by a woman’s profession!” Kylie spun away from him, anger trembling inside her.

“Kylie, wait!”

“Save it for the Male Chauvinists’ Club,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate your sentiments.” Before he could respond, she controlled the impulse to flounce from the room and managed to make a dignified exit. She shoved the bedroom door closed behind her and took vengeful pleasure in the loud slam.

Taking off her dress and throwing it in a heap on the floor helped some. But as her initial anger wore away, Kylie knew nothing would help very much. She had no one to blame except herself. She’d known better than to get involved with Nick. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t make that mistake. But she had. Blindly she had fallen for his smooth line, knowing all the time that there couldn’t be a happy ending.

As she lay awake, feeling lonelier than she’d ever felt before, Kylie gave herself a stern lecture about being assertive and thinking positively. But somehow it only made her feel worse.

At least she wasn’t in love with him, she thought sometime just before dawn.

Well, all right, she admitted, maybe she was half in love with him. But only half, and if she looked on the bright side, that meant she only had to talk some sense into half of her heart.

It was small comfort but the best she could manage under the circumstances.

Chapter Seven

Kylie discouraged a yawn by sipping her coffee and focusing a disinterested gaze on the newspaper in her hand. The print blurred into a meaningless string of words, and finally she folded the paper and placed it on the sofa beside her. Restlessly she propped her feet on the coffee table and stared at the patio beyond the glass doors. The sun bathed the garden in morning light and streamed through the windows in warming streaks of gold. It was going to be a gorgeous day, full of blue sky and puffy clouds.

That was the trouble with the weather, Kylie thought. Just when you needed a drizzle of rain to match your mood, nature turned on the charm. Well, it would take more than a little sunshine to win a smile from her today.

Something from Nick, along the lines of an abject apology or a full-page mea culpa ad in
The New York Times,
might do the trick. Even the knowledge that he’d spent a sleepless night would have gone a long way toward dispelling her gloom. But he’d denied her even that small satisfaction.

He had, purposefully, she was sure, left his bedroom door open so she would know he wasn’t bothered by their quarrel. At least not enough to let it keep him awake. He had been sleeping peacefully, like a grizzly bear in hibernation, when she’d walked past his door an hour ago. And from the lack of sound in his part of the house, she concluded he was probably still dreaming on.

But when he finally did awaken, he wouldn’t find her staring dismally out the window. Kylie swung her feet to the floor in sudden decision. It was a beautiful morning, too beautiful to spend indoors. Santa Fe was a city steeped in rich history, and today she would be a tourist, a typical Polaroid-snapping tourist.

She would pack a lunch and visit any and every tourist attraction that caught her fancy. And sometime during the day she’d purchase a totally useless souvenir. Something a trifle gaudy perhaps, and emblazoned with the words
Souvenir of Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Something that in later years she’d shake her head over and wonder why she had wanted a reminder of a routine business trip.

In the kitchen Kylie made a sandwich, took an orange from the refrigerator, and rummaged through the cabinets for a paper sack. Once packed, it didn’t seem like much of a lunch, and she wished she could work up a little more enthusiasm for her plans.

“Enthusiasm is a state of mind,” she said aloud. “And state of mind is simply a matter of self-control.” There was no immediate increase in the appeal of the lunch she’d made or in her outlook, and she closed the sack with a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know who you have in there, but apparently they’ve heard that lecture before.”

At the sound of Nick’s voice her frown deepened. “I was talking to myself,” she stated coolly.

“Well, it didn’t seem to make much of an impression on you either.”

Kylie dismissed his comments with an indifferent shrug and scolded the rebel cadence of her heart. Nick moved across her peripheral vision on his way to the refrigerator, and though she told herself not to, she turned to watch him. As he opened the door and bent to look inside, her gaze fell to the neat navy-blue running shoes on his feet and rose past the white sport socks with their navy trim to the tanned length of sinewy leg beneath the beige shorts. The navy-blue polo shirt was stretched over his shoulders, and Kylie mustered her defenses against the tremor of longing that threatened her composure.

“Hungry?” he asked, his voice muffled by the refrigerator.

“No!” It was too quick, too loud, and too defensive, and she made an effort to soften her tone. “No.”

Nick straightened, the orange juice container in his hand, and let the door swing closed. He glanced in her direction, then warily looked away. “I guess I slept through breakfast.”

“I guess you did.” Kylie lifted the lunch sack and held it in front of her like a shield.

While he took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with juice, she stood quietly, wishing she could just walk from the kitchen and leave him to wonder about her plans. But it seemed crucial to the enjoyment of her day that Nick should know about and appreciate her total lack of concern for his breakfast, lunch, or afternoon snack. She didn’t care what he did as long as he understood that she had no interest whatsoever in his plans. That her logic bordered on illogic only made her more determined to show him a totally feigned indifference.

“I’m leaving now,” she announced.

His level gray eyes regarded the sack in her hands. “I thought perhaps you were running away from home.”

“This isn’t my home, and I’m not running away. I’m going sight-seeing.”

He nodded and took a drink of his juice. “What sights are you going to see?”

“I don’t know. What do you suggest?” Kylie frowned at her question. She hadn’t intended to ask his opinion.

“I suggest you get a guide. Someone who knows the area and can take you behind the scenes.” He lifted the glass to his lips once more. “Of course, it’s difficult to find an experienced guide.”

“I would think they’d be a dime a dozen.”

“Oh, no. We’re a small, select group.”

“We?”

Nick arched one eyebrow in surprise. “Didn’t I mention that?” He smiled with assumed modesty. “In my spare time I sometimes conduct tours of the area. Only for special VIPs, of course, and only on alternate Saturdays when it doesn’t rain.”

“What a pity.” She shook her head in feigned disappointment. “I’m sure I just heard a distant rumble of thunder. Maybe some other—”

“All right,” he interrupted with a lift of his hand. “I’ll make an exception for you, Kylie. But you have to promise not to let word get around that I’m a soft touch.”

“Don’t worry, Nick. I would never breathe a word that might support such a nasty rumor. It’s probably a good thing that I’m not asking you to join me.”

“Would it help if I offered to negotiate the fee?” He eyed the sack in her hand hungrily. “I might consider—”

She clutched the sack closer to her. “Oh, no, you don’t. This is my lunch. You’ll have to make your own.”

He shrugged his concession. “All right. I’ll fix a lunch and be ready to go in five minutes. Is that soon enough for you?”

“No! Yes. I mean—” She broke off the protest and tipped her chin. “I think I should spend the day by myself.”

He moved to within inches of her defiant stance. “And I think we should spend the day together,” he said and leaned even closer. “Would you care to settle this disagreement with the flip of a coin?”

His breath stirred warm shivers of memory in her, and she nervously moistened her lips. “There’s no disagreement to settle.”

“Good.” His voice was suddenly husky, soft, and serious. “Because I want to be with you, Kylie.”

She melted when she saw the tender request in his eyes. Her resistance ebbed in direct proportion to the upward slant of his mouth, and when the intriguing cleft appeared in his chin, she surrendered to the misguided insistence of her heart.

“Five minutes,” she stated crisply, knowing that if he exhibited the tiniest glimmer of triumph, she would withdraw the invitation. Nick didn’t attempt to conceal the relief that completed his smile as he stepped back and turned again to the refrigerator. Kylie watched him for a minute, taking a guilty delight in the knowledge that he wanted to spend the day with her. She should have stood firm in her resolve to act sensibly and stay as far away from him as possible, but her heart put up a strong argument. And she didn’t seem to have much control over her emotions anymore.