Eternal Vows (Hideaway (Kimani)) (12 page)

“I never realized that,” she countered.

“That’s because you can’t see yourself like I do.”

“Do we ever see ourselves as we should?” Peyton asked.

“I do,” Nicholas stated emphatically. “I know exactly who I am and what I’m willing to do or not do. Now what is it you want to know about me?”

“Do you miss—” Peyton’s query died on her tongue when she met the malevolent glare thrown at her by the very woman she’d asked Nicholas about. Rachel was as turned out as a high-fashion model, but the scowl sweeping over her features distorted her beautiful face.

Nicholas turned to see what had distracted Peyton. Putting an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer to his side. Pressing his mouth to her hair, he whispered, “Don’t let her get to you.”

“I’ve never fought over a man, Nicholas, and I don’t intend to start now. If she decides to cause a scene, then I expect you to handle it. After all, she was
your
boo.”

He frowned. “She was never, as you put it, my boo and there definitely won’t be a scene. Rachel’s too vain for that.”

“Even vain people get stupid at times.”

“It’s not going to happen,” Nicholas whispered.

“Just make certain it doesn’t,” Peyton whispered back.

As an only child she’d been forced to stand up for herself. And she hadn’t had to deal with bullying or intimidation from other kids because she’d always been the one to establish the ground rules for friendship or a relationship. Her outspokenness had come from either her mother’s unwillingness or inability to speak up for herself.

“Oh, Nicholas. There you are,” called out a middle-aged woman wearing a silk suit in a becoming lilac shade. “They told me at the reception desk you’d arrived.”

Nicholas dipped his head and kissed Judith Bronwyn’s cheek. “This is one soirée I wouldn’t miss.” Reaching for Peyton’s hand, he eased her to his length. “Judith, I don’t know if you’ve met Peyton Blackstone. Peyton, this is Mrs. Judith Bronwyn, founder and chairperson of the Wounded Warriors foundation.”

Judith angled her head, smiling. “There’s been a lot of talk about you tonight, Miss Blackstone. A number of the single men have asked about you and I can see why. You’re a stunning young woman.”

“Did you tell them she’s not available?” Nicholas stated emphatically.

Peyton looked at Nicholas, then Mrs. Bronwyn, seeing shock freeze the other woman’s features before her lips parted when she expelled an audible gasp. It was obvious Mrs. Bronwyn, like most people in their social circle, had believed Nicholas and Rachel were still a couple.

Judith recovered quickly. She placed a hand over the diamond-and-amethyst necklace resting on her generous bosom. “No, I didn’t. But, I’ll be sure to let them know she’s taken.”

Nicholas affected a cold smile that didn’t reach his raven-black eyes. “Thank you. It looks as if you have a wonderful turnout,” he said smoothly as if the topic of Peyton and the men who’d expressed an interest in her had never come up.

“The committee wanted to hold it at the Adamson House, but they were booked solid for the summer, and we didn’t want to host it any later in the year because then we’re into the holiday shopping season. So, I agreed to let them hold it here. And instead of our usual one hundred-fifty invitees we had to limit it to eighty. And that number includes our military guests and their family members.” She took a quick glance at her watch, prisms of light from an overhead chandelier reflecting off her diamond wedding band. “I’m sorry to dash off, but I have to check with the planner to see how the caterer is doing.”

Waiting until their hostess was out of earshot, Peyton rounded on Nicholas. “I don’t need you to speak on my availability status,” she said between clenched teeth. He smiled the slow sensual smile she usually found so engaging. But right about now she wanted to drive the heel of her stiletto into his instep, causing him untold excruciating pain.

“I only spoke the truth. You’re not available
tonight.
”

Peyton leaned into him. “That’s not what you said, Nicholas. You led Mrs. Bronwyn to believe I’m off the market for any man that may show the slightest interest in me.”

“Are you looking for a man?”

“No!” The admission was out before she could censor herself.

Nicholas’s hand moved up to the nape of her neck. “If that’s the case, then why are you in such a snit?”

She pushed out her lower lip. “I’m not in a snit.”

He stared at her mouth. “You shouldn’t do that, Peyton.”

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Pout. You look as if you’re waiting to be kissed.”

Peyton bit down on her lower lip so hard it throbbed like a pulse. A rush of heat flooded her face when Nicholas threw back his head and laughed. “What’s so damned funny?” she said under her breath.

Pulling her close, Nicholas rested his chin on the top of her head. “You. I was only teasing you.”

“I don’t like to be teased,” Peyton mumbled. Her arms went around his waist inside his jacket. Despite her annoyance she sank into his warmth. His tailored clothing artfully concealed a lean, hard body.

He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Tilting her head, she tried reading his expression. “Are you really sorry?”

“Very sorry,” he said before brushing his mouth over hers. “I’m going to get something from the bar that’s a little stronger than champagne. What would you like?”

Peyton’s eyebrows flickered. She didn’t know if Nicholas kissed her because it was something he’d wanted to do; or had it been to thwart the advances of other men, while sending Rachel a message that he’d moved on. Although she’d never been one for public displays of affection it wasn’t what she thought of as a kiss. It had been the same when he’d touched his mouth to hers at Celia and Gavin’s wedding. Their sharing a kiss at the open house was something she could not forget.

“I’ll have whatever it is you’re drinking.”

Nicholas took her hand, steering her in the direction of the bar. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle it?”

“Would you ask me that if I were a dude?”

“Point taken, beautiful.”

Please don’t tell me he’s a sexist!
The realization came at Peyton with the velocity of a fastball. Rather than admit he was wrong Nicholas had taken the high road with an ambiguous response. “Yes or no, Nicholas.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

She gave him her most beguiling smile. “Thank you for your honesty.”

The great room was beginning to fill up with invitees, and Nicholas had to wend his way around small groups eating, drinking, talking and laughing with abandon. The crowd at the bar was two-deep and when he was finally able to get the attention of a bartender he ordered two tequila shots. Reaching into the pocket of his suit trousers, he placed a bill on the mahogany bar after the man set down two glasses with a clear liquid, another glass with lemon wedges and a small saltshaker.

The bartender nodded and smiled in appreciation. “Thank you, sir.”

Nicholas handed Peyton the saltshaker and the glass with the lemons, then picked up the glasses of tequila. They found an empty table in a corner. He set down the drinks and pulled out a chair for her. Under another set of circumstances he would’ve downed the drink at the bar, but he wasn’t certain how Peyton would react after drinking straight tequila.

He touched his glass to hers.
“¡Salud!”

She smiled, nodded and then moistened her hand between her thumb and forefinger and shook salt on it. She licked the salt, downed the shot and followed the burning in her chest by sucking on the lemon. Peyton was hard pressed not to laugh at the stunned expression on Nicholas’s handsome face. “Are you going to drink yours? If not, then I’ll drink it.”

Nicholas repeated the action. The tequila and the acid from the lemon set the back of his throat afire. He resisted the urge to blow out a breath. What he did do was grimace as his eyes filled with moisture. The tequila had to be 100% blue agave.

“Damn!” The word had slipped out of its own accord.

Covering her face with her hands, Peyton smothered the giggles bubbling up and threatening to escape. The tequila was stronger than anything she’d ever drunk, but there was no way she was going to reveal that to Nicholas. She’d become an expert in hiding her inner emotions.

That was only after she’d embarrassed herself when she couldn’t stop retching. She’d been the only one in her class to react violently to the stench of decomposition from the bloated carcass of dead cow. The smell had lingered with her even after she’d showered and washed her hair over and over. Unfortunately she’d been the only female in the class, which had exacerbated her embarrassment.

Reaching out, she rested her hand over Nicholas’s. “Are you all right?”

He puffed out his cheeks. “I’ll let you know once the burning stops.” Peyton removed her hand and stood up. Nicholas rose to his feet. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get us something to eat.”

He sat back down, crossing one leg over the opposite knee, while watching Peyton as she approached a member of the waitstaff. His gaze lingered on her legs in the heels. The shoes flattered her shapely calves and slender ankles. He smiled. Now he knew why men wanted to meet her. Judith Bronwyn was right. Peyton Blackstone was stunning! Not only was she smart, but also sexy and feisty.

His forehead furrowed in concern, wondering how his male employees would react once they discovered their resident veterinarian was an attractive young woman. There was one thing Nicholas knew he would never tolerate and that was sexual harassment whether from male or female. He stood up when she returned with forks, napkins and chopsticks.

“I ordered sushi, miniature crab cakes and calamari.”

Nicholas seated her, and then pulled his chair closer. “You’re definitely a keeper.”

Peyton smiled. “Are you saying I’m hired?”

“Of course you’re hired. You’re definitely a keeper when it comes to dating.”

“The date isn’t over and you’re ready to commit to another one?”

Nicholas nodded. He didn’t know why but at that moment he felt as if he and Peyton were the only two people in the expansive space. Everything around them appeared to have disappeared—no people, music or incessant chatter. What, he mused, was there about her that made him feel so calm, at peace?

“Weren’t you the one that said I will have to reciprocate whenever you need an escort?”

Her lids lowered. “Yes, and that may be sooner rather than later.”

“Well, whenever you need me I’ll make certain to be available.”

The waiter arrived with their order, shattering the sensual spell Peyton had created by their sharing the same space.

Chapter 10

W
ith the cocktail hour winding down the assembly was ushered into the mansion’s ballroom. There were ten round tables with seating for eight, set with china, silver and crystal, on red, white or blue tablecloths. Peyton was pleasantly surprised when she discovered Jesse and his parents were seated at the table to which she and Nicholas had been assigned. Another soldier with his parents also joined them. She chatted comfortably with Jesse’s mother and the others at the table, while Nicholas spoke quietly with Jesse.

He’d talked about hiring her and Jesse. Peyton had heard talk that Nicholas was a member of one of the wealthiest African-American families in the country. She’d gone online to research his family, but found very little personal information on him or ColeDiz International, Ltd., the privately held family owned conglomerate. Celia had mentioned that Nicholas had planned on a career in the navy, but was forced to retire because of an accident. Physically he appeared to be healthy, so she wondered how serious could it have been for him to give up his military career.

Conversations faded when Judith Bronwyn tapped a handheld microphone. All eyes were trained on the woman whose unwavering support of servicemen and veterans had begun when her grandson, who’d survived burns over fifty per cent of his body returned home only to die by his own hand. She’d set up the not-for-profit foundation to meet the needs of returning servicemen who’d served in the Middle East.

The foundation contracted with licensed therapists to address the issues of dealing with depression and PTSD. Several contractors donated their time and materials to renovate homes to make them wheelchair accessible and the latest focus was job training leading to employment for returning men and women.

Judith flashed a wide grin. “I would like to thank everyone for coming out tonight. I’d like to get my speech out of the way so everyone can eat in peace. Our foundation would not be possible without your financial support. And events like this would not be possible without the people who volunteer their time and energy to support our servicemen and wounded warriors.

“I’ve heard some grumbling when we raised the price of the tickets for our biannual fund-raiser. Come now, my friends and neighbors. Nearly everyone here owns at least one horse, and you are more than aware of the cost of feeding a horse for a month. My comeback is if you can feed a horse then you can feed a veteran.” Thunderous applause followed her pronouncement. “One of the reasons we decided to hold this event every two years is to give you enough time to save your
spare change.
” She paused when there was a chorus of laughter and moans. “Our focus for the next two years will be to hire a vet. I don’t have to tell you that no one is better disciplined or has a better work ethic than a serviceman or woman. I see my husband giving me the signal to end this, so again I thank you for your ongoing generosity. Eat, drink up, dance and please get home safely.”

Waiters stood at each table, filling water goblets and wineglasses. Salad, entrées of filet mignon, broiled Cornish hens, plank-grilled salmon and lobster tails were prepared to perfection and accompanied by steamed seasonal vegetables.

Peyton leaned into Nicholas. “Is there something wrong with your wine?” She’d purposefully lowered her voice.

He gave her a lingering stare. “What are you trying to do? Become the designated driver?”

Her eyebrows shot up as she affected a look of unadulterated innocence. “Of course not, Nicholas. I just thought you’d be used to doing tequila shots.”

“And why would you think that?” he asked.

“What’s the expression? Drink like a sailor.”

Nicholas shook his head as he tried not to smile. His lips parted, displaying straight, white teeth. “I didn’t know you were a comedian as well as a vet.”

Her smile matched his. “The expression had to come from somewhere.” She jumped slightly when he placed his hand on her knee.

“That’s nothing more than a stereotype. By the way, where did you learn to do shots?”

“Sheldon taught me.”

“You’re kidding?”

Pressing her shoulder to his, Peyton told him that it had become a Blackstone tradition to gather in Sheldon’s living room and toast a special occasion with a shot of premium bourbon. “Thankfully there aren’t too many special occasions because I’d probably lose a few brain cells.”

“Most families have their traditions. The Coles always get together the week between Christmas and New Year’s at the family compound in West Palm Beach. Many family weddings are held the last day of the year.”

“That’s a wonderful tradition. How long has it been going on?” Peyton asked.

“It’s close to ninety years. It began when my great-grandfather married my great-grandmother in Havana, Cuba.”

“Was she Cuban?” Nicholas nodded as Peyton studied his face, feature by feature. “Do you speak Spanish?”

“Yes.”

“I took it in high school and college, but I’m still not fluent.”

“That’s because you have to speak the language to become fluent,” Nicholas said.

“How do you stay fluent?” Peyton asked.

“I speak it with a stable boy and a couple of the grooms. Would you like me to practice with you?”

Peyton’s face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. “Yes.”

“We’ll begin with
estoy contento usted decidio venir conmigo esta noche.
”

“That I understand.”

Nicholas winked at her. “What did I say?”

“You’re happy I came with you tonight.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you certain you’re not fluent?”

“I said I’m not fluent, not that I don’t understand the language.”

Nicholas wanted to tell Peyton that she was steps ahead of his mother. Not only didn’t Nichola understand or speak the language, but she had declared that she had no interest in learning. He knew it was more to irritate her mother-in-law than anything else.

“If that’s the case, then it should be easy to learn to speak it. The trick is to think in the language. Forget about what you’ve learned about conjugating verbs, because that will trip you up.”

“How did you learn?” she asked.

“Whenever we went to visit my grandmother she would speak only Spanish to me and my brother and sister. The minute I knew I was going to see
abuela
something in my head switched over to Spanish.” Nicholas rubbed her back in a comforting gesture. “Don’t worry. You’ll do okay.”

Peyton knew becoming bilingual was a plus
if
she decided to open a private practice. She liked being around horses, but she also wanted to treat exotic and domesticated pets. The difference from becoming a DVM and a MD was the many different species. She liked and needed variety.

Dinner concluded with dessert and cordials. Again Peyton and Nicholas declined the liqueur, opting instead for coffee as a DJ began spinning tunes in the great room. Pushing back his chair, Nicholas came to his feet. He assisted Peyton, then cradling her hand in the bend of his elbow he led her from the ballroom, following the others who were there gliding across the floor to the music.

Pulling her to his chest, he swung her around and around in an intricate dance step. “Let me know if you have a curfew?”

Throwing back her head and baring her throat she laughed softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a curfew.”

His expressive eyebrows lifted. “And even longer
for me.”

Peyton closed her eyes, smiling dreamily. “I’ve really enjoyed myself tonight.”

Nicholas felt the same; he’d actually enjoyed spending time with her. Peyton was easy to talk to, and more importantly she didn’t bore him. In fact she was full of surprises. He never would’ve expected her to down a shot of tequila.

“The night is still young,” he crooned. The fund-raiser was scheduled to end at ten; if it’d been held at the Adamson House it wouldn’t have concluded until midnight. Ten o’clock was much too early to go home, especially on a Saturday night.

Peyton peered up at him through her lashes. “What do you have in mind?”

“I want to meet Outlaw.”

She stopped in midstep. “Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight.”

A beat passed. “Okay,” she agreed.

Nicholas cupped her elbow. “We’ll stop at my place because I need to change.”

“I’ll also have to change,” Peyton said. “I don’t want to ruin my shoes.”

She’d found a kindred spirit in Ryan’s wife; she and Kelly loved nothing better than shoe shopping. As a former New York City schoolteacher, Kelly had been the epitome of a Big Apple diva. She’d exchanged her tailored suits, pencil skirts and stilettos for flats, slacks, twin sets, jeans and blouses. But that hadn’t kept Kelly from purchasing a new pair of shoes whenever there was a pre-party race or charity event.

Peyton was her partner in crime when she always found a pair she just had to have or couldn’t resist. The shoes in her collection varied by fabric, heel height, color, sling back or pump. It was the same with dresses. At no time would she ever proclaim she had nothing to wear.

“Let’s go, Nicholas. I can’t wait to introduce you to my baby.”

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Peyton punched in the code on the door of the stable housing Golly Miss Molly and her foal. She opened the door, walked in and motion lights lit up the stable. A collie-terrier trotted over, sniffing her hand. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears before he returned to his favorite spot near the door.

“Come on in,” she whispered to Nicholas. “Miss Molly is at the far end.”

Nicholas followed Peyton past stalls of horses with personalized nameplates indicating sex, date of birth, sire and dam. Fresh air filled the ultra-modern structure through ridge roof ventilators and louvered fitments in the gable ends. The stalls were large enough to accommodate a horse that preferred lying down or stretching out to sleep. He’d become accustomed to the smell of hay and manure.

When he’d driven back to his house Peyton had waited on the veranda although he’d invited her in while he changed his clothes, and when they’d arrived at Blackstone Farms he’d waited on Sheldon’s front porch, something he’d done many times when conferring with his mentor.

His gaze shifted from the horses to the sway of Peyton’s hips in a pair of fitted jeans. Whether wearing a body-hugging dress or jeans, she was blatantly sensual and probably didn’t know just how sexy she was.

He stopped at a stall, studying the gray standing at least sixteen hands high. “I didn’t know Blackstone had a Gelderland.”

Peyton stopped, turned and retraced her steps. “We use Fritz as a carriage horse for hayrides.” She stroked the horse’s nose when he nudged her with his head. “I know what you’re looking for, big boy, but I don’t have any carrots with me.”

Nicholas patted Fritz’s neck. “He’s beautiful.”

“That he is. I’m surprised you recognize his breed.”

Crossing his arms over a black waffle-weave cotton shirt, Nicholas cocked his head at an angle. “I knew if I was going to get involved in horse breeding, then I had to know the different breeds.”

Peyton assumed a similar pose. “What do you know about the Gelderland?”

“Is this a test, Dr. Blackstone?” he asked.

Her teeth flashed whitely in the diffused light. “Yes, it is.”

Lowering his arms, he stood a step. They were close enough for Nicholas to feel the whisper of Peyton’s breath on his throat. “What do I get if I pass?”

“A gold star. Kelly has some in the schoolhouse.”

Nicholas shook his head. “Nah. Stars are for little kids.”

“And you’re a big kid?” Her voice had dropped an octave.

He loomed over her. “A real big, big kid.”

She leaned into him, then at the last possible moment pulled back. “All I’m offering tonight is a gold star.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Nicholas paced back and forth. The first suggestion Sheldon had given him was to learn everything he could about the different breeds of horses. He read countless books, went to horse shows, and auctions and racetracks. He ate, slept and breathed everything equine.

“The Gelderland is usually fifteen and a half to sixteen hands. He has a long and very strong neck.” He stopped pacing, staring at Peyton staring back at him. “They have powerful shoulders, a wide, strong back that runs deep through the heart. Should I continue?” She nodded. “Their heads are ram-shaped with rather long ears.”

“Where did they originate from?”

“Holland. But Gelderlands ceased to be bred officially in the late ’60s.”

“Very good,” she crooned. “We have a Gelderland mare in one of the other stables. When she comes into heat we plan to breed her with Fritz. Ryan would like to have more carriage horses on the farm.”

“She is also gray?”

“No. She’s chestnut.”

“When can I get my gold star?”

Peyton stared numbly at him. She never would’ve imagined him sulking. “I’ll bring it to you Tuesday.”

Nicholas sobered quickly. On Tuesday everything would change between them. He would interview Peyton, give her a tour of his farm, followed by an orientation. Their relationship would change from neighbors to employer and employee.

Lifting one hand, he trailed his fingers along the curve of her jaw. “You can bring the gold star, but come Tuesday I probably won’t be able to do this.” Nicholas kissed the end of her nose. “And this.” He trailed a series of light kisses along her jaw, over the diamond stud in her ear. “And especially this.” He kissed her soft mouth, increasing the pressure until her lips parted.

Peyton anchored an arm under Nicholas’s shoulder to maintain her balance. Pleasure shot through her like electricity, short-circuiting her senses. Her breath coming in short audible gasps left her light-headed, weak and confused. It took Herculean strength, but she managed to extricate herself before she begged him to make love to her.

Nicholas’s head came up when he heard the distinctive sound of someone cocking a firearm. Moving quickly, he shielded Peyton with his body. He didn’t want to believe he was staring into the bore of a double-barrel shotgun. “Don’t shoot!”

Peering around Nicholas’s shoulder, Peyton didn’t want to believe the scenario playing out in front of her eyes. “What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Ritchie?” she screamed at the man who’d entered the stable without making a sound. “Put that gun away!”