Charming You (Thirsty Hearts Book 1) (15 page)

A
call
from his ex-fiancée offered Nick a poor substitute for having another dinner with Micky. However, he'd asked to meet with her, and a cancelled appointment freed her up to meet for drinks that evening.

After his trip to Fort Worth, Nick called Speedy Tech under the guise of wanting to hire a company for computer maintenance for his business. The owner informed him that he had eight technicians, including himself. Bingo.

No reason for Nick to do more legwork. He called Rick and told him he'd figured out that the blackmailer worked at Speedy Tech. With that bit of information, Rick had agreed to go ahead and give him the list of employees. After all, given enough time, Nick could come up with the names himself.

The news should make Vivienne happy, and he hoped Vivienne had news of her own that would please him—namely, a plan for what she'd tell her parents. Nick could only avoid eye contact with Tom Moran in meetings for so long. The time had come to tell the truth—or a version of the truth—and end their engagement for good. They both needed to move on.

He thought again about Micky. He wanted to be free and clear and totally honest—not hiding a fiancée.

Nick pulled up in front of the Morans' favorite sushi restaurant—where Vivienne wanted to meet—and valet parked his car. As soon as he opened the door, he spotted her in a small corner booth in the bar—beautiful and impeccably dressed as always.

"Hello, Vivienne," he said, as he slid into the booth opposite her. Vivienne returned his hello with a tentative smile and fiddled with the corner of her napkin. They sat in silence for a moment. She had taken the liberty of ordering him a drink, and he took a healthy swig.

"What did the investigator have to say?"

"We have a hot lead that narrowed down the list of suspects." Nick relayed everything he and Rick discovered. "We should have Rick look into each of the eight people, see if they have any connection to you or your family."

"No." Vivienne's response came quickly.

"Vivienne—"

She waved him off. "No. That means telling him who I am and, what, telling him the specifics of the blackmail? I won't do that, Nick. If we have a short list, can't we look into it ourselves."

"You and I have neither the time nor the expertise for that sort of thing."

"It doesn't matter. Let's just have him run deep background checks on each of the people. If he does that, I may be able to figure out which person would have an ax to grind all on my own."

"The more we give him, the more he'll know where to look. He works for us, and he'll be discreet. I've worked with him before. He's a straight up, no nonsense kind of guy."

"I don't care. At this point, I don't trust anyone."

Nick could tell Vivienne wouldn't budge on the issue, so he dropped it. "Fine. I'll have him give us background reports on each person. We'll go from there."

"Perfect." She leaned back in the booth and let out her held breath.

"Was there something else you wanted to talk about?" Nick asked her.

"No. I just thought we'd catch up."

Suspicion filled the silence between them.

"How's it going with your parents? I haven't heard from you about telling your dad."

"I've been talking things over with my mother. Just so you know, you work entirely too much, and I don't think that's the kind of marriage I want. I told my brother the wedding is off. He won't say anything. I have to work up to telling my dad."

Nick didn't know whether to be pissed off or grateful.

"Your mother isn't going to say anything either?"

"Oh, God, no. No chance of that," Vivienne shook her head as she spoke.

Now Tom and Sheila's marriage made even less sense to him.

"We need to tell him soon. Every time I see him, I have trouble looking him in the eye. Plus, whatever he's going to do when he finds out, I'd rather know now."

"I know. I thought we might wait until you finish your deal."

"I don't know when, or if, this deal is getting done. This situation can't just go on and on. I have a life to live."

"You're still angry."

"The limbo of the situation is getting to me, and I feel like a moron. I don't know how I couldn't see the truth. Sorry. I want to try to remain friendly."

"We
are
friends. This is why I couldn't go through with the wedding without telling you. I thought I could. I thought I could live the life everyone wanted for me. My parents…I don't have to tell you how much my parents wanted me to get married."

Nick remembered another piece of their conversation the night he proposed. They toasted each other with champagne and sat on the beautiful balcony of their hotel suite. Vivienne had stared off into the distance at the busy Parisian street below.

"My parents will be thrilled to be marrying me off finally," she'd said.

"Aren't
you
happy to be getting married off?" he'd asked her.

"Yes. You're the only man I've ever pictured spending my life with. That I know."

The only man.
Those words brought his focus to Vivienne's furrowed brow across from him. She picked at her napkin.

"Do you think you can ever forgive me?" she asked.

"Of course," Nick sighed. "Can you forgive me for being so oblivious?"

"Definitely. Let's just put this behind us."

"I'm glad your mom knows, but we need to tell your dad. This business deal may not go through at all. I don't think we should wait. Two blows at once?" Nick winced.

"What's going on with the acquisition?"

"I can't discuss that. We have some snags."

Vivienne sighed. "I'd hoped that your help with whatever he's doing with keep him from ruining your chances to make partner. It'll all be my fault."

"No. It won't, and what's going on with work isn't about anything I've done. I'll be fine." Nick forced assurance into his smile. "I know it will be difficult, but I think you should tell him in the next week."

Vivienne ripped her napkin into tiny pieces.

"Give me some time."

"What's the hold up, Vivienne? Nothing is going to change."

"You don't get how important this is to them."

"Why should they care this much? As far as they know, you'll find someone else."

"You know what my father said to me when I graduated college? I graduated summa cum laude with degrees in art and business from Columbia. My father looked at me and said, 'I sent you to one of the best schools in the country and no husband. You could have not gotten married at state school prices.' On my graduation day, Nick. In front of my friends."

"Your father thought he was being funny."

"My father is an antediluvian pig, and my mother is barely better. All she sees is the advantages of a good match. It's like I'm living in a regency romance novel. How dare I be over twenty-two with no prospects!"

"They want you to be happy. It's just their idea of happy isn't yours. Tell them."

Vivienne scoffed. Her face remained still, but he could hear her exasperation.

"I will. I'll find a way. It's complicated, and I'm not ready to answer their questions."

"I need you to do this. For me. In the next couple of weeks. Please. Just give me a heads up so I know what's coming."

"Fine."

"No offense, but I'm ready to end this. I want to move on," he said.

"I know. You must be itching to find someone new. Although, I don't know how you expect to find my replacement when you live at the office. You'll have to start picking up women in the lobby. Or hanging around outside the ladies' room." Vivienne's joke was too much on the mark.

Nick gave a wry smile, but felt uncomfortable. The only way he'd met Micky was the brief five minutes he wasn't slaving away in his office or huddled at home, which he had been for the past few months. He suddenly felt absurdly glad her car battery had died at the moment he walked into the parking garage. Sexy damsels in distress didn't normally just fall out of the sky.

He remembered leaning over the car and seeing the creamy skin descending into her blouse as her button came undone. One or two more buttons, and the view would no doubt get even better. His face—and other parts of his body—warmed at the memory.

"Hey, Nick," Vivienne prompted him out of his reverie. Her eyes narrowed as a sly smile emerged. "
Have
you met someone? Your face is turning pink."

"This doesn't feel right…" His foot began tapping compulsively. The complexity of the situation plagued him, and he couldn't explain the continued involvement of her father in his love life. Talking about his lust for another woman would be too strange anyway.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I guess. It's a relief if you have met someone."

"That makes it easier to kick me to the curb, does it?" Nick said and chuckled.

"I'm sorry. I really am s…"

"Dear God, Vivienne, if you say you're sorry one more time, I'm going to drown myself in my cocktail." He sat back with a sigh. "Yes, I met someone."

"Where'd you manage to find her?"

"Don't laugh," Nick held up his hands, finally relaxing a little. "I met her in the parking garage at work."

Vivienne laughed. Loudly. The sushi chef behind the sleek glass counter turned their direction and scowled.

"Well, at least I wasn't hanging around outside the ladies' room. What kind of pervert do you think I am?"

"I don't." Vivienne turned serious. "You're a good guy. A great guy. I want you to find someone who knows how to match your intensity. I never could do that. You're this romantic, sexy guy, and it was pearls before swine with me."

"I know now why you and I never really clicked."

"In the bedroom." Vivienne finished. "I wanted to. But I knew if it wasn't working with you, it never would."

"If you don't mind my asking, when did you know that you were gay? Did you know before we dated?"

"Oh, I've had those feelings as long as I can remember. I had my first crush on a girl when I was seven. But, I knew it was wrong. Or, you know, I thought it was. I just pretended it was something other than that—other than being gay. Then, I got older and had boyfriends. It was easy to keep them at arm's length because of how my parents raised me. I thought if I met the right guy, those feelings would go away. I could change. Everyone around me talked about how it was unnatural. You have to know, Nick, that I genuinely wanted to be with you. I hoped you were the guy who could change me. I wanted you to be. I know that's completely unfair, but I did care about you." Vivienne confessed. "I still care about you. That whole idea is just backward. You and I aren't like we should be."

Nick felt a mixture of sadness and joy. He realized that this was the first fully open conversation he'd ever had with Vivienne. He understood why she would lie to herself, but he wondered what had made him so willing to settle for anything less than this level of honesty, plus the passion he'd craved. He and Vivienne both deserved that. She tipped her platinum blonde head to the side, and they sat silent.

Then, the truth hit him. He hadn't ever loved Vivienne. Not in a romantic way. There were things he loved about Vivienne. She was smart and independent. In every other area of her life, she knew what she wanted, and she had incredible confidence. All in all, he was lucky to know her.

He hoped he still had enough luck to find the real love of his life with all of those things, plus the passion and connection. That total package was something he'd never had. But now, Nick knew exactly where he wanted to start looking for it.

T
he air grew
crisper as the week progressed, and by Saturday, there were dire predictions of a rare, early winter blast. Micky never knew if she should take the weather fearmongers seriously since the local news stations seemed to love scaring the hell out of everybody with radar images scattered with wild colors. She didn't want anything to interfere with the day's plans.

She closed her laptop and stretched after a morning of working on presentations. Micky was determined to push any stress out of her mind and focus on having a good time. The light at the end of the tunnel for the day was knowing Nick would be picking her up at six to grab a bite to eat before going to the American Airlines Center for the Mavericks game.

Not only would she get to spend time with Nick, but his older sister and her family would also be there in his suite. His willingness to introduce her to his family reassured her.

At four o'clock, she started getting ready. She stood in her walk-in closet in a towel with wet hair contemplating what to wear.

She pulled out a silk jersey wrap top with animal print and thought it might work with a pair of jeans. So far, Nick had mostly seen her in her uptight work clothes. He'd also mostly seen her yelling at him and running the other direction. She wanted to show him her relaxed self. Her sexy and relaxed self.

Micky put the top up to her chest and kicked the closet door closed so she could see herself in the full-length mirror. The deep V-neck would show a good bit of cleavage. That could be a plus. She'd have to watch bending over.

Shit.
Micky hung the top back up. The last time she worn it was last winter on a date with Eric.

"That top makes your breasts look like they’re gift wrapped," the liar had said. He had trailed his index finger down her sternum with a Cheshire cat smile. Hearing the sound of his voice in her head brought back the sensations of betrayal and mistrust. He'd never apologized. He'd written in an email saying he'd been in an "impossible" situation. Micky sneered. "Impossible" because there would be no way for him to tell the truth and keep banging her.

What's worse is the coworker who introduced them had also known and not told her. Tony later defended his actions, telling her that he "didn't judge," and it was "none of his business." Micky kicked a box of old clothes and screamed.

Eric didn't deserve any more of her emotional energy. Nick had at least been honest about his entanglements. She needed to push Eric and his nonsense out of her head and focus on the future. Nick. Tonight. Sexy outfit.

She pulled out a calf-length sweater dress and looked at her boots. The dress would flatter her in all the right places, but she didn't want to be one of those women who goes to a sporting event all dolled up. Maybe jeans?

She settled on her most alluring pair of long, lean denim, with a cute pair of black, knee-high riding boots and a nice top. She had a royal blue cashmere sweater in the same wrap style that showed off her curves and a bit of cleavage, but not so much she couldn't be around children. Plus, the color matched the Mavs blue. It was perfect.

She also picked out a nice matching pair of lavender lace undies. Nick probably wouldn't see them, but wearing hot underwear always gave her a confidence boost. And she'd wear her hair down, which she hardly ever did at work—usually opting for a ponytail or bun. Tonight, the dark waves would cascade around her shoulders, framing her cheekbones and fringing her color-shifting hazel eyes. The blue of her top highlighted the lighter flecks in her irises, making her eyes greener. Not as green as Nick's. Her skin tingled.

After she finished getting ready, she surveyed the results in the mirror. She looked good—casual, but sexy. She loved that Nick was tall enough she could wear her heels.

Micky then upped the ante a bit by putting on her red lipstick—which rarely made an appearance. Usually, she kept her makeup understated and questioned if she could carry off vixen red lips. She often put it on and then took it off, which she was just about to do when the doorbell rang. With her time running out, vixeny red lips it was. With one last glance at the mirror, she took a deep breath and went to answer the door.

She looked at Nick and immediately felt flushed. He stood in the doorway, his green eyes looking even brighter with his emerald green sweater peeking out from his heavy wool coat. He wore jeans, which made her glad she decided to do the same.

As she invited him in, he passed by her, and she caught a glimpse of his jeans from behind. It was unfair for a man
that
handsome to have a butt
that
nice.

N
ick's heart pounded
, and his mind went blank. As soon as he rang the doorbell, his stomach took a little flip. The nerves baffled him. It was a casual date. They'd have drinks, go to the game, and eat hot dogs. He was a grown man who'd been on dozens of dates. Nick reminded himself again that his relationship with Micky was about business, first and foremost. Then Micky opened the door.

Holy hell.
Released from the tight ponytails and buns she often wore, her hair fell into loose and flirty ripples. Her sweater and jeans were stretched nicely around an hourglass figure he'd place bets looked as good from behind as it did from the front.

Was that cashmere? Nick's fingertips itched to find out. The cherry on top was this red lipstick that defied explanation. He wanted to taste it. Nick had to press his hands against his thighs to stifle the urge to touch her.

"I need to refill Ophelia's dog bowl and grab my coat," Micky said. Nick looked down Ophelia who was investigated him with curious sniffs. "Isn't she the cutest little hound dog? You better hope you pass muster."

"Hello, Ophelia. I'm not worried. Puppies love me." Nick bent down to scratch the fuzzy head of Micky's beagle, who jumped around like he was Santa Claus, wagging her tail so hard she twisted sideways.

Micky laughed. "She's the worst guard dog ever."

"She's adorable. How old?"

"She's ten, but still a total puppy. Aren't you buddy?" Micky filled the dog bowl with kibble and handed Ophelia a couple of treats, all of which were gone almost as soon as they appeared.

"Is she going to be okay outside? Or do you leave her inside?"

"I gave up trying to keep her inside or outside. She has a dog door, so she can come and go as she pleases."

"Ah, I see. So, she basically runs the house."

"No question. I know the Dog Whisperer guy says I should be pack leader, but I'm woman enough to admit that I'm not in charge."

Nick would bet she was woman enough for all sorts of things.

"That seems to be more important if you have a pit bull. She doesn't look quite as dangerous."

Micky laughed again as Ophelia sniffed at Nick's shoe and then turned another three-sixty, waiting for him to play with her. "We better get out of here before she sucks us both in."