Kate Hardy - One Night of Passion

“Are you all right?” he demanded. Then, without waiting for an answer, because surely he could feel that she was fine—after all that was her body pressed against his—he said, “This is insane. I never should have brought you up here.”

It might be insane, but climbing the stairs wasn’t what made it so.

“I’m all right,” Edie said. “Truly.”

He made a sound that implied he wasn’t convinced. If she lifted her face just a little, Edie thought her lips could probably brush his jawline. She couldn’t see, of course. Other than the flashlight, which was now behind her in the arm he had wrapped around her, there was no light at all. And yes, his heart was hammering, too.

“You’re sure?” He asked after a moment.

Edie nodded. She was right. The top of her head collided with his chin. “Sorry. Yes, I’m okay. I just slipped. Please, let’s go on.”

He didn’t immediately agree, but finally he said, “Okay. But you’re going ahead of me.” And he eased her up the narrow stairway so that she was in front of him. Then, keeping one arm around her, playing the flashlight on the steps just ahead of her, he climbed the steps directly behind her.

He was so close his knees brushed her calves, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her back. And his other hand, big and warm and callus-roughened, wrapped her fingers. She’d wondered about the calluses when they were dancing. She understood how he got them now.

She remembered the feel of them sliding up her legs and touching the bare skin of her thighs. She wondered how those hands would feel against more sensitive skin on her body.

Once more she stumbled. Nick tightened his grip. “Careful.”

“Yes,” Edie said, breathless and mortified, taking another step and then another. “I’m trying to be.”

Was she? Or was she actually being more reckless than she’d ever been in her life? She didn’t know the answer to that yet.

“One step at a time,” her grandma Tremayne always used to say. “You’ll get there that way.”

Edie supposed it was true. But it would have helped if she’d known where she was going.

“Here we are.” They had reached a heavy wooden door. Nick reached around her and pushed open, then drew her up and out onto the narrow walkway.

“Oh!” Edie stopped stock-still and simply stared at the sparkling kingdom spread at her feet.

If the evening had felt like something out of a Cinderella fairy tale before, now, with the tiny lights of Mont Chamion’s formal gardens spread out below her, Edie felt herself swept ever more fully into a sense of enchantment.

“Not exactly what it would have looked like in the thirteenth century,” Nick said wryly.

“But beautiful,” Edie murmured, putting her hands on the rough stone wall and leaning out to look down. “It’s amazing. We have gardens back at home in Santa Barbara. But nothing like these.”

“There aren’t any like these. They’re one of a kind.” Nick’s voice was quiet, almost reverent, as he came to stand beside her and together they stared out at the wonderland below. Neither of them spoke.

There were a few wedding guests outside in the gardens, and Edie could hear an occasional murmur of a voice or crack of laughter. From an open window came the lilting sounds of the orchestra playing a waltz. But as magical as it was, it was less enthralling than the man next to her.

He stood very close, but not touching her as he leaned forward, his elbows on the wall, the pristine white of his shirt cuffs peeking out from beneath his dark suit coat. His fingers were loosely knotted together. In the light of a three-quarter moon, she could, glancing sideways, see the light and shadow on the hard angles and planes of his face.

Her sister Rhiannon had casually and flirtatiously stroked his cheek. Edie’s fingers curled into a fist so she wasn’t tempted to do likewise. She turned her gaze away, too, tried to focus on the tableau below.

What Nick was actually thinking she didn’t know. While moments ago in the stairwell she would have said he was as aware of her as she was of him, now he seemed so remote she doubted he was thinking about her at all. So she turned her head to risk another look.

He turned at the same time. Their gazes locked. The heat flared. And Edie’s breath caught in her throat.

Nick cleared his. Then, deliberately he straightened. “It’s getting cool up here. Shall we go down?” His voice was perfectly polite, but Edie thought she detected a hint of raggedness in his tone. The raggedness of desire?

Did she even know what that sounded like anymore?

“I’ll go first on the way down,” Nick decreed.

“So I can crash into you and knock us both all the way to the bottom?” Edie joked.

“Hang on to my shoulder if you want. I’ll go slow.”

He did go slow, but she didn’t reach for him. She might have liked a hand, but clutching at him unnecessarily was something Rhiannon would have done, so Edie deliberately didn’t do it. She just kept one hand on the wall as she made her way carefully down the steps behind him and tried not to stumble and crash into him. It was a relief to reach the hallway again and to have Nick turn and secure the door.

“That was lovely. Thank you,” she said, slipping the flipflops off and holding them out to him, smiling up at him at the same time.

Nick didn’t smile back. His features were taut; there was almost a grim line to his mouth which, after a moment, he managed to curve into something resembling a smile. Then he stepped back and said briskly, “Well, there you have it. Nick Savas’s two-bit architectural tour.” He flashed her a quick glib sort of smile.

Edie’s smile didn’t flash. It remained firmly in place. But her heart was galloping and she had the sensation of walking on water. She dared not contemplate it too closely. She just needed to keep going. “It was wonderful.”

Their gazes locked again. Nick’s expression wasn’t remote now. His eyes were intent. Focused on her. The silence went on. And on.

Until finally Nick said, “I want you.”

His voice was rough. She heard an edge to it, a desperation almost. And something that sounded like annoyance. Edie wasn’t annoyed. But she was shocked to hear him say the words so bluntly. At the same time, to her own astonishment, elated.

“Is that a problem?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

“Isn’t it?” he challenged her, one brow lifting.

She blinked at the ferocity of his tone. “We’re adults,” she heard herself say mildly.

“There’s more to it than that.”

“Yes.” She nodded, unsure where he was going with this.

“Usually,” he amended.

Edie shook her head, not following. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean,” he said firmly, “that I don’t want anything more than that.”

“Than sex?” Edie said, wanting to be clear.

His jaw tightened and he looked faintly discomfitted by her plain-speaking, but nodded. “Exactly.”

So much for fairy tales, Edie thought.

But really, she wasn’t expecting a fairy tale, either. She knew better. So why not be frank? Why not set out parameters?

If Kyle Robbins had done so years ago, she wouldn’t have been expecting a proposal of marriage when he’d simply wanted to go to bed with her. She wouldn’t have had her hopes raised merely to see them dashed.

“I don’t do relationships,” Nick continued to spell it out. “One night. That’s it.”

“Those are the rules?” Edie said, smiling.

Nick nodded. “Those are the rules.”

Their gazes met again, clear and unblinking. No starry-eyed foolishness here, Edie thought. No romance. No hearts and flowers. No expectations.