Kate Hardy - One Night of Passion - The Night that Changed Everything / Champagne with a Celebrity / At the French Baron's Bidding

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.”

SHE 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!