Texas Tycoon's Christmas Fiancée (5 page)

“Nick, it's paradise here. Warm weather, a yacht, the lights reflecting on the water. The docks and coastline are decorated for the holidays—various colored lights as if this is part of a colossal party,” she said, turning to smile at him.

“I'm slipping,” he said. “Water, flowers, yacht, lights—I was in hopes I'd be in that list somewhere.”

Feeling giddy, she laughed. “You, sir, are the pièce de résistance,” she admitted, tossing caution overboard.

“That's infinitely better,” Nick stated, turning her and taking her into his arms to dance to the ballad the band played.

Startled, she followed his lead. In spite of the slight space between them, she detected his inviting aftershave. Through the fine wool of his suit jacket and his shirt, she felt the warmth of his arm. His hand holding hers heightened her sensory reaction.

“I'm in a dream tonight. You've succeeded beyond my
wildest hopes. I never guessed I'd spend an evening like this.”

“I'm more than pleased and if you think you're the only person having a great time, you're wrong.”

She smiled. “For a few hours, there is no tomorrow and no routine life,” she said. “Only paradise and a handsome charmer,” she admitted, conscious she played with fire. Raging fire. Even so, she refused to allow caution to reemerge.

The music ended and Nick led her to their table. “I have champagne.”

“It has to be followed by coffee when we eat. I'm not into wine and champagne and magic.”

He smiled as he opened the champagne with a pop and poured it into slender flutes. He offered the bubbling drink.

“Nick, this yacht is moving,” she said, startled by the realization that they were sailing.

“Don't be alarmed. We're traveling only a short distance along the shoreline and then circling back. I thought you'd enjoy seeing the lights and it would be more pleasurable than remaining anchored.”

The fleeting question arose: could she trust him and accept what he promised?

As if he discerned her thoughts, he spoke. “I promised we'd go back whenever you want. If you're uneasy, we can return now and eat at one of the restaurants,” he said, and she felt foolish.

“I just don't know you very well.”

“Say the word and we'll return right now.”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I'm just unaccustomed to getaways like this.”

“Text your aunt, tell her where you are,” he said. “I think you'll feel better. I'll talk to the band.” He walked away and, losing her qualms, she followed his suggestion, grateful that he had made it.

When she finished the message, she took her drink to the rail. After a few minutes Nick joined her.

“Feel better now?” Without waiting for her answer, he continued, “Is everything all right at home?”

“Yes. Michael is sleeping and my aunt is getting ready to watch her favorite show.”

They stood, chatting about nothing in particular and watching lights along the shore slip past until she realized they were moving slightly away from land, angling toward the turn he'd indicated.

During dinner, while each course was lavish, culminating in succulent lobster, her appetite was diminished by the charisma generated by Nick. “I haven't relaxed and enjoyed myself like this in months,” she remarked, looking at him and smiling. “Actually, in this manner, never. I know you know how to relax. You have a reputation in the media.”

“In the tabloids. I hope you aren't relying on those for your info about me.”

“Definitely not! I'm relying on my own observations. My friend Alicia never mentioned you. I don't think she ever met you.”

“No. In hindsight, I might have been better off if I had met her.”

“You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you she hadn't had many relationships with men. She was in love with a guy right after high school. That lasted a year. Then there were a couple more. She ran around with friends who were male, but nothing serious, nor did she sleep with them.”

“You sound as certain as if you were talking about yourself.”

“I am. We grew up together in bad circumstances. Both our families were poor. Worse, her father died when she was seven. Mine died when I was eleven. Alicia and I were as close as sisters, in fact, closer than I am to my own sisters. And she
only had one brother who was killed three years ago. Alicia and I shared our hopes and disappointments. When she met your brother, he swept her off her feet. His money impressed her. She also liked him.”

“Money impresses a lot of women. Women liked my older brother and vice versa. No problem there.”

“I'm sure you receive the same reactions.”

“I didn't from you,” he reminded her. “That's where you threw me a curve. Principle before money? I never expected that response when I talked to you Monday morning.”

“Michael is more important than money to me. I've spent nearly my whole life without money.”

“That's why you should have been so awed and willing,” Nick remarked.

“No. Michael is my son now,” Grace replied, hoping to reinforce her position. “I took Michael home from the hospital after he was released from neonatal intensive care. His premature birth was terrifying. Now it would scare me more because I love him so much and feel as if he's my baby.”

“He's actually my brother's baby—at least according to what I've been told.”

“He is definitely your brother's child,” she stated, realizing Nick's food was as forgotten as her own. “I knew my friend almost as well as I know myself. I've told you there were no other men in her life when she met your brother. Actually, Michael looks as if he's your son. When you see Michael, you'll know your brother was his father.”

Nick's eyes narrowed. “We bear a resemblance? I'd never thought of that. I look like my father, so that means Michael might. That isn't something you can fabricate.”

“Or exaggerate. I'm sure you'll eventually see for yourself. He looks like your son. No one could possibly disagree.”

Nick gazed into space and she wondered why the discovery had silenced him. Had he figured this was another man's baby
and dismissed his father's wishes? She didn't know what ran through Nick's mind, but the news that he and Michael bore a strong family resemblance troubled Nick.

He frowned slightly as he turned back to her. “Michael doesn't look like Bart? Did you ever meet Bart?”

“No, I didn't, but I saw a snapshot of him. I don't think Michael resembles Bart. Bart had hazel eyes, brown hair.”

“Bart and I are actually half brothers. We had different mothers.”

“That's something I didn't know.”

“Bart and I had our own lives and were busy. Time slips away.” Nick lapsed into silence again. A short while later he looked at her plate.

“Neither of us is eating. There's a great dessert.”

“I'll pass, although everything is delicious.”

“We can have the dessert later. C'mon, and I'll give you that tour,” Nick said, standing and coming to take her arm.

As he showed her the upper decks, Nick kept the conversation on ordinary events, shared interests in movies and books. When he led her into his master suite, her senses spiked and her nerves became raw. She looked at the luxurious burnished-wood built-in furniture, rich brown leather upholstery, and a wide king-size bed covered in satin.

“Here's where I sleep when I stay on board,” Nick said. His voice lowered, developing a husky note. Again his words were harmless, but his tone, his gaze when she looked up at him, his hand lightly on her arm—all combined to have her picture herself lying on his bed in his embrace.

When he turned her to face him, her heart thudded. His hand on her arm was one more casual contact that should have been meaningless but instead was sizzling. She didn't want this fiery attraction that kept her breathless with him, yet there was no denying it. She wanted his kiss, could actually feel herself lean slightly toward him. His dark eyes warmed, his
lids partially closing as he gazed at her mouth. She gathered her wits and her will.

“Nick, we should go back. Maybe dance now,” she whispered, making an effort to turn away. Her heartbeat galloped in anticipation. Before the evening was over they would kiss and that knowledge played havoc with her nerves. Desire heightened, plaguing her.

“If that's what you want,” he said.

They returned to the upper deck, where he drew her into his arms to dance, holding her lightly, gazing at her as they moved together in complete unison.

Hours later, as they stood talking quietly at the rail, she turned to him. “This is a bewitching night, Nick. You shouldn't make it so unforgettable and enticing.”

“Why not? We can have a life separate from the problems caused by my father.”

“Actually, I don't think we can,” she said. “And it's time to start back home.”

“Whatever you want,” he said, smiling at her as they left the rail.

Within the hour they were airborne and Nick was entertaining her with more tales from his past.

It was almost three in the morning when his limo stopped at her apartment complex and Nick walked her to the door. “Give me your key and let me open the door.”

Wordlessly, she handed over the key. He pushed open the door and held it for her to enter, following her inside and closing the door while she cut off the alarm. She turned to face him.

“Thank you, Nick. The evening was a dream come true—a night I'll remember for a very long time.”

“It's not over yet,” he said in a husky voice, slipping an arm around her waist and drawing her closer. At his hungry look, she glanced at his sensuous mouth, wanting to step into
his embrace and kiss him, to be kissed. Yet once she did, her life might not ever be the same.

“Nick, this is dangerous, foolish,” she whispered.

“Shh, it's only a kiss. It's meaningless—a goodbye, a touch. A kiss won't change our lives or the future.”

“You are so sure of yourself,” she said quietly, the tension growing between them. The warning inside grew dimmer. She couldn't look away from Nick's dark eyes, couldn't move away from him. Could he hear her heart pounding? Or feel her pulse racing?

Lightly, his fingers drifted along her throat, then up to her ear and in her hair while his arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer.

“Nick, we shouldn't,” she said, but her protest was weak, more of an invitation. She was losing ground, succumbing to desire. She inhaled and stepped back, out of his embrace. “You're not going to charm me into giving you what you want. You wanted this night to be about getting to know each other.”

“I've kept my promise. I haven't pushed you about Michael.”

“You did what you promised,” she acknowledged. “I had a wonderful time, but now you need to go.”

He gazed at her in silence and she could see the craving burning in the depths of his eyes. He nodded. “I'll take you to lunch Tuesday and we can talk.”

He turned and was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

She stared at the door. Every inch of her yearned to call him back, to step into his embrace and kiss. Kisses that she suspected would be as spellbinding as the entire evening had been. Desire scalded her. She wanted him with a hunger she wouldn't have believed possible.

She had done the right thing by keeping a distance between
them. Then why was it so unsatisfactory and why did she long to be in his arms?

Sleep was lost for most of the remainder of the night. The time with Nick replayed in her mind while longing heightened instead of diminishing. She had to forget Nick, go on with her life, keep Michael safe from the Raffords, but it was difficult to think of never seeing Nick again. Lunch Tuesday. He wanted to talk about Michael. She could refuse, stop this before it went any further. Nick's dark brown eyes and the way he had held her when they danced tormented her until she finally drifted to sleep and dreamed about kissing Nick.

A
t home Nick swam laps in his pool, trying to cool his raging libido. He ached to kiss Grace, too aware she had wanted to kiss. Her green eyes had conveyed lust and she had come close to succumbing. He was determined to win her over. Too much rested on the outcome of his dealings with her. He was accustomed to getting what he wanted and he intended to with Grace.

Meanwhile, he wanted her with an urgency that surprised him. He thought about her constantly and he couldn't recall doing that with any other woman.

Grace was different. Why? Was it solely the money that he would win or lose? She was a beautiful woman, but his life was filled with other entrancing women. Was it just because she was a challenge when he so seldom found a ravishing woman who resisted him?

Whatever the reason, getting his inheritance was essential. Tuesday, he intended to walk away from that appointment
with a promise from her to let his dad meet Michael. With his father's health so frail, time was of the essence.

 

She had to move lunch Tuesday to two o'clock. She had spent the early hours getting dressed, finally selecting a simple navy suit and silk blouse. Then she had spent the rest of the morning reminding herself to resist whatever Nick asked.

Nick insisted on picking her up at her office, so she waited at the door. When Grace saw his black sports car approach, she stepped outside, hoping she hid her own feelings, because her racing pulse and butterflies in her stomach were unwanted. Adding to her flutters, Jada had been bubbly the entire morning over the lunch appointment. With a deep breath, Grace approached the curb.

When he stepped out to open the door for her, she had another jump in her pulse at the sight of him. Lunch in the middle of the day on a Tuesday shouldn't be filled with magic in a romantic surrounding. She hoped to be practical and firm, and resist whatever he suggested, because this meeting was clearly an effort to get what he wanted from her.

“Hi,” he said, the gleam in his brown eyes causing a gush of warmth. “Busy day?” he asked.

“Very. Hopefully the afternoon will be quieter. Thanks again for a Friday night that was relaxing and memorable. It was great to get away a few hours.”

He flashed another smile. “For a moment there I hoped the reason was personal, not merely to get out for a few hours. We proved we don't have to battle constantly. I want to find some common ground.”

“Common ground where Michael's future is concerned is entirely different. You can't undo the damage your brother did. Your family had every chance. We've been over that,” she said, resentment curling sourly.

He drove to a popular place, where they hurried in the
brisk, cool wind from his car into a restaurant that had grown quiet when the noon crowd had thinned. Near a fireplace that contained the last glowing embers from a fire, Nick sat across from her. Today he was in a brown sweater over a white shirt, looking casual, handsome and exciting.

After ordering, he smiled at her. “You look great. Very efficient, very businesslike, so desirable.”

“Thank you, but the latter is not on our agenda.”

“For now, forget the argument between us. You know what I did Sunday and yesterday?”

“How could I possibly have any idea?” she asked, amused by his question.

“I spent far too much time thinking about you and Saturday night. And wanting another night out.”

“Nick, we can't pursue a relationship,” she said, clinging to caution while another part of her wanted to smile and agree. “Of course, I know you're trying to get me to cooperate one way or another.”

“I'll admit I'm trying to win you over, but not exactly for the purpose you're thinking now. There are some personal, ulterior motives here that do not involve my father,” Nick said, his voice deepening and the expression in his eyes conveying unmistakable desire.

Her breath was erratic. “Stop flirting, Nick. We have no future—with family or without family.”

“That doesn't have to be. I know you enjoyed Saturday night. I want to go out again. And once more, it has nothing to do with the future or my nephew or my father. Grace, you kept me at arm's length on Saturday night. I intend to change that.”

Spellbinding words, yet was it a ploy to get his way? If he seduced her, she would succumb to everything he wanted. Now was the time to resist him, to ignore her tingling, breathless reaction, turn a blind eye to his handsome looks, hold fast to
rejection even though everything in her screamed to accept, flirt with him and go with the moment.

“You're a dirty fighter, Nick. You know there's a chemistry and you've emphasized the attraction.”

“What man wouldn't?” he asked in a low voice. “You're beautiful, Grace. I'm a warm-blooded man and I like being with you.”

His words heightened her reaction, melting animosity and caution. “Wisdom tells me to avoid a wide-eyed, heart-thumping acceptance of your offers,” she whispered.

“Maybe wisdom, but nothing else.”

“You know I react physically to you. We react to each other, although I suspect you have this response from a lot of women. But with me, you have a strong ulterior motive.”

With his gaze locked on her he raised her hand, brushing a kiss on her palm while his thumb was on the vein in her wrist. He watched her intently. “See there,” he said in a husky voice. “Your pulse is rushing. Far faster than normal. As is mine. If we were alone now, you'd be in my arms.”

“Nick, stop this,” she said, hearing words spoken in a tone that sounded more like an invitation than a denial.

“I want to take you out tonight, including eating together,” he said. “Say yes, Grace. Your assistant has already told me she can cover the party for you because it's a small one with a client you've had before.”

“You just go barreling ahead to get what you want,” she said.

“You weren't discontented Saturday night. You've gone with me twice now and you're in no worse situation for spending time with me, so what's the harm in accepting? Especially when it shows that you want to accept.”

She laughed. “You don't give up, do you?”

“Not with you, because you want to go with me. How's seven tonight?” He leaned closer. “We'll make it a short, early
evening and do whatever you'd like to do. If I promise again no discussion about Michael and my dad, how's that? Now a yes,” he said.

“Yes, against wisdom and caution.”

“We have unfinished business.”

“You promised—” she started to say.

“I'm not referring to Michael or Dad,” he said.

Their waiter approached and Nick released her hand, watching her while green salads were placed in front of them.

Through lunch, Nick flirted and charmed and she forgot the problems for moments at a time until she would realize how much she responded to Nick. Each hour spent with him made her want to be with him even more. In spite of knowing that, she craved the excitement he brought into her life. Women could not resist him and in too many ways, she was no different from the others. She had capitulated easily to his dinner offer. She couldn't believe their time together meant anything to him except a means to get Michael. For her it was one more unforgettable evening instead of a few quiet hours playing with Michael and then spending the remaining time going over books for work. Just once more and then a firm, unyielding refusal. Could she really stick to that plan when Nick turned on the charm?

“I would like to talk about Michael
now
, though.” Nick reached across the table to grip her hand again and her heart skipped a beat. His hand was warm, enveloping hers, causing havoc with her nerves.

“There really isn't anything to get to. My feelings haven't changed.”

“Listen to me,” Nick urged quietly. “You've been logical, not too emotional over this issue. Just come meet my dad and let him see and hold his grandson.” Dark brown eyes bored
into her while his thumb ran back and forth over her wrist, creating distracting flutters.

“How simple you make it sound,” she said, her voice breathless, almost a whisper.

“It's harmless, Grace. My father is very ill. His heart is in bad shape and he's getting more frail. At least let him meet Michael and hold his grandson. Is that too much to ask?”

She withdrew her hand from Nick's. “You make it sound so easy, yet I always remember Alicia and her wishes.”

“Alicia dealt with Bart. That's a whole different issue. Don't punish my father for stupid, cruel things my brother did.”

“Your father could have stepped in.”

“At the time my father knew nothing about Bart's rejection. Christmas is approaching—the season of giving. It's going to be damn bleak for my father. Bring the baby over and meet my dad and let him satisfy himself just seeing Michael. I'm not asking to take Michael or change his name or anything else right now. Just let Dad see him and hold him. Give him this, Grace.”

She looked away, torn by Nick's plea and aware that she couldn't be that selfish over Michael, yet fearing the Raffords' power and Nick's ulterior motives. She thought about Michael and how much he resembled Nick. Once Eli Rafford saw the baby, he would never want to let him go because of that resemblance. To Eli, Michael would be Nick all over again. She was certain the remarkable resemblance would make a difference in Eli's attitude.

“Once your father sees Michael, he will never want to let him go.”

“Grace, my father's days may be limited. He isn't well. He can't take Michael from you. This is only a meeting. I promise,” Nick added quietly.

She looked into unfathomable brown eyes that told her nothing. This man had a reputation for being ruthless in
business. Was she being naive, gullible and taken in by a charmer who had plotted every move to take Michael from her?

“We can make it short,” Nick added.

“All right, Nick,” she said, staring at him intently. There was no change in his expression, reminding her that he could hide his emotions completely.

“Thank you for agreeing. You'll see how much it means to him.”

“You better keep your word.”

“I've promised. Don't be so fearful. It'll be all right. My father can't take your baby and if you're worried that I'll try to talk you into marriage, I have no intention of bringing either a wife or a baby into my life. My freedom is important and, at this point, I don't care to become a daddy. I'll make the arrangements. When will you be free?”

She pulled her phone and checked her calendar. “I'm booked solid since it's getting so close to Christmas. I can turn the parties over to Jada either Thursday afternoon or Friday afternoon.”

“I'll make arrangements with Dad for Thursday afternoon,” Nick said.

“I should get back to the office. You've gotten everything you want, so we can go now,” she said with a sharp note in her voice.

“Not everything.”

As they left, she was conscious of his height, his body so close to hers and his hand on her arm. He had gotten everything he wanted, yet he had sounded reasonable in his requests. Time would tell. She prayed she had no regrets.

Nick kept the conversation light, but worries were already besieging her when they drove back to her office. He got out quickly and came around to open her door. “Thanks for lunch, I think,” she added, emerging from the car.

“How's two o'clock Thursday afternoon?”

“That will be fine. Michael may fall asleep, but that's all right.”

“I'll pick both of you up at your place. Thanks for this. You'll see, after you have this first visit with my dad, you won't be sorry about your decision.”

“We'll see, Nick. Thanks for lunch.” She turned to walk briskly away, her back tingling because she guessed Nick stood and watched her. She dreaded meeting Eli Rafford, suspecting her trepidation would only grow. Inside her office, she turned to watch Nick drive away. She hoped she was doing the right thing.

 

Thursday seemed eons away and then it was upon her. She left work early to get Michael ready only to find Clara had already bathed him and laid out clothes.

“He's been fed and I think he'll fall asleep soon,” Clara said.

“If you'll watch him a few more minutes, I'm going to change clothes,” Grace said, hugging Michael and giving him a kiss before handing him to Clara.

“Sure. Take your time. I'll get Michael dressed in his sailor suit.”

Grace changed to tan slacks and a matching silk shirt, then brushed her hair and clipped it at the back of her neck. She returned to Michel's room to find him seated on a blanket, playing with his toys and cooing.

“He looks adorable,” Grace said, her worries returning.

“I know this meeting was probably inevitable, but I just pray your legal rights are binding. Once this man sees his grandson, he'll want him more than ever.”

“Nick insists that his dad simply wants to see Michael and hold him. Clara, I hope I'm not making the mistake of my life.”

Clara frowned and looked at Michael, who was playing with a rattle and happily babbling unintelligible words. “Me, too, Grace. I know Nick Rafford has pressured you into this meeting. A visit sounds harmless, but once Eli Rafford sees his grandchild, I hope the resemblance to Nick doesn't reinforce his goal to give Michael the Rafford name. Or more. Eli Rafford may be frail, but he has the money for nannies and all kinds of help. He could try to take Michael and pay people to care for him round-the-clock.” Nannies and staff would raise Michael instead of relatives. Clara shuddered while Grace's chill deepened.

“That's what I fear,” Grace said. “They have the money to do as they please. I made an appointment to talk to my attorney in the morning.”

“Thank heavens,” Clara declared. “You can't fight the Rafford money, Grace. I'm afraid Nick Rafford is showering his attention on you for a reason.”