Part 10 (1/2)
Kathy shepherded the kids into her car and with a cheeky wave, drove off. Lauren walked to her goggles and s.n.a.t.c.hed them from the ground.
”Lauren?”
She urged her facial muscles to relax into a pleasantly bland expression and turned.
The camera slung around his neck, such an extension of his body, represented the sum total of her experience with the media. It was a sharp reminder that the public's voracious consumption meant everything a celebrity did became news to those who exploited it for big bucks. If Nate uncovered her secret, she badly wanted to believe he wouldn't make a phone call to one of the nationally distributed papers. But how hard would it be to pa.s.s up a juicy story of a fairytale turned sour?
”About before-”
”The kiss was a mistake. It should never have happened.” Her breathing hitched at the flash of fire in his eyes.
”A mistake? So I should apologize?” He unhooked the camera from around his neck and opened the back door of his car.
”No, of course not. But it can't happen again.”
The heat in his gaze frosted over. ”You're right, and it won't.”
Nate packed the camera into its case, and she remembered his hands, the strength locking their bodies together at the hip, but so gentle when they touched Drew. Remembered too, another's hands that patted her son's head indifferently then hours later turned into claws fisting her long hair. She'd been sucked in by a man's charm and charisma and deliciously addictive kisses before.
”Just so we're clear.” Clutching the ear protectors and goggles to her stomach, she turned away.
”Crystal.” His voice clipped the word to shards.
Chapter 5.
Nate was punctual at mealtimes, insisted on was.h.i.+ng up afterward, and he never turned down a rousing board game with Drew. The man was unfaultable as a boarder.
During the early morning hours when insomnia struck, Lauren had paced along the French doors, kinda hoping he'd find an excuse to come up. He didn't. And two days after that scorching-hot kiss, Lauren still couldn't goad any reaction from him other than polite indifference. She wanted to kick him in the s.h.i.+ns.
At her desk, tackling her and Todd's accounts, Lauren sighed and stretched the kinks from her back. She'd liked the hesitant camaraderie that had developed in their week of working together. Now it'd disappeared, and their every interaction was tense and forced. His coolness could've stemmed from male pique, but she doubted Nate was the type of man to sulk at a woman's rejection.
Shouldn't his indifference make things less complicated?
She shut down her laptop and got up to check the chicken pot pie in the oven. Drew, outfitted in his Superman cape, waited outside for the rumble of Nate's Range Rover. Thank G.o.d Nate's coolness didn't extend to her son.
”He's coming!” Drew streaked across the deck with Java trotting alongside, his tail a wagging blur. Even her treacherous dog warranted more attention from Nate than she did.
Spot of pique yourself, girl? Thought you didn't want his laser-like attention focused on you?
She removed the pie dish and mumbled a curse at her pathetic attempt to reignite the flicker of warmth in Nate's eyes. Since The Kiss, their eye contact rarely lasted longer than a second.
Nate stepped onto the deck as she placed a bowl of green salad on the dining table. Drew launched himself at Nate's legs and all but s.h.i.+mmied up his tall frame.
Nate lifted her son onto his shoulders. ”Hey, little mate, what did you cook for dinner?”
Drew giggled, wrapping his small hands under Nate's chin. ”I can't cook, silly. Mummy made chicken pie.”
”Smells great.” Nate turned to her with a leftover smile from Drew's laughter, but it stopped short of thawing his gaze.
He kept her son entertained throughout dinner with stories of Nate's childhood exploits in faraway lands. Drew found the subject of snakes and other creepy-crawlies Nate had encountered endlessly fascinating.
”We never saw snakes in New York, did we, Mummy?”
Aware Nate's attention had switched back to her, she toyed with the remaining salad on her plate. ”No, snakes don't like the city.”
Nate's chair creaked as his weight s.h.i.+fted. ”I've told enough stories tonight. Why don't you tell us a New York story, Lauren?”
Refusing to meet the challenge in his tone, she kept her face toward her son. ”My stories aren't very exciting. I'm sure you'd rather hear more about the scorpions in the Philippines.”
Drew mashed a chunk of pastry with the back of his spoon and slid a sideways glance at Nate. ”I don't want Mummy's stories 'bout New York. It's a bad place, and I don't like it.”
Nate's flinty gaze pinned her across the table.
”Fair enough,” he said, after a beat. ”If snakes don't like living in the Big Apple, I'm sure I wouldn't either.”
Once they finished eating, Nate laced his fingers over his non-existent stomach with a satisfied sigh and chuckled as Drew mirrored his actions. Nate made her stay seated while he and Drew cleared the plates off the table.
Seven-thirty finally rolled around, and never had Lauren been so glad to announce, ”Bedtime,” to Drew. Teeth were brushed, a story read, and the nightlight switched on, and Lauren breathed out a sigh as she descended the stairs, registering silence from the other rooms. Thank goodness, Nate had gone.
Strict professionalism was impossible since the pleasant spark of heat between them had ignited into a wildfire. They'd crossed an invisible line with that kiss, and wildfires had a nasty habit of destroying lives if left unchecked.
Lauren stepped through the archway, only to freeze at an unexpected complication. A complication who sprawled on her couch with a steaming mug in his hand.
”I thought you'd gone down to the workshop already.” Lauren's gaze darted from Nate's long, denim-clad legs to the extra mug on the coffee table.
”Nope. I made you tea-chamomile, right?”
Her hand fluttered to her lips. ”I should get on with the dishes.”
”I've done them. Come and have your tea.”
Lauren accepted the mug and chose to sit on the couch opposite. ”Thanks. It's been a long day.”
As she sipped, she flicked him a glance over the rim.
He leaned back, crossed his ankles and kept her gaze trapped. ”Will you tell me about New York?”
”Oh. Ah, surely you've been there?” Tell him about New York? She'd barely told her family about her disastrous, four-year marriage.
”Couple of times.”
Then, in the way some guys intuitively did, he shut up and just watched her. Watched her with those dark-lashed, gorgeous green eyes.
d.a.m.n.
”I don't know where to start.”