The Best Man's Baby. Darcy Maguire
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changed in her life…
‘You didn’t show up.’
Skye swung around, her heart leaping in her chest.
Nick stood behind her, looming like a brick wall, dark suit, dark coat and a very dark look.
‘I know,’ she managed breathlessly.
He came close, looking down into her face, his jaw set firm. ‘Would you like to give me an explanation?’
‘Would you mind if I caught my breath? You startled me.’ She touched her chest, trying to still the pounding of her heart. It was just the scare. Nothing else. ‘This isn’t the day and age to be jumping out at women late at night.’
‘You have nothing to be frightened of from me.’ His voice lowered dangerously.
She doubted that! She swung away from him and strode towards the car park, thankful that the street-lights were all intact. It was a good neighbourhood—she just didn’t like taking chances.
His footsteps were heavy behind her.
‘Really? Nothing to be frightened of from you?’ she tossed over her shoulder. ‘I can’t imagine that you’ve grown up that much.’
‘You’d be surprised.’
She darted him a quick glance. Surprised at how little he’d grown? Sure, he’d filled out some more and his face looked a little less fresh, but he was the same Nick Coburn she’d known. She was sure of it.
‘I’m fine to get to my car on my own,’ she snapped, lifting her chin and lengthening her stride.
He came up beside her. ‘I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I drove all the way out here to escort you to the car park. I’m here for answers.’
Skye faltered. Did he know? She shook her head, urging her legs to walk straight to her Mitsubishi sedan. She pressed the auto entry pad, watching the light inside go on, illuminating the back seat.
Damn. She froze, her cheeks heating and her pulse raging through her body. Damn, damn, damn.
Nick caught her arm and turned her to face him. ‘Skye?’
She looked up into his strong face, his jaw sporting a slight shadow, his hair mussed a little as though he’d been working on a difficult case.
‘Okay. Okay.’ Skye stared at his chest. ‘If you’d waited around for me to respond to your invitation in the first place you would have discovered that I’m flat out.’
‘You were working?’
‘Yes. Working. Flat out busy and couldn’t spare a minute—disasters…you know.’ Skye looked at the ground, where his shoes met the pavement, unable to look into his face on the off-chance that he’d see the lie in her eyes.
‘You could have called,’ he stated casually.
She looked up at him. ‘Where? I know nothing about you.’
Nick stood in front of her, boldly intimidating, the soft light from the street-lights casting shadows across his face. ‘You know I work at Stevens and King. You could have called there.’
She bit her lip. Caught out. Damn. She’d thought about it but figured he’d talk her around in circles until he eventually got his own way. ‘I didn’t think—’
‘Hmm. Yes.’ Nick’s voice was cutting. ‘I can see that as a bit of a trait of yours.’
She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring up at him, eye to eye, a swell of indignation surging up her body. ‘What is?’
‘Not thinking of other people.’
Her blood heated. ‘You know nothing about me. My entire life is thinking of other people. Twenty-four seven.’ He had a nerve. She baby-sat people’s weddings, co-ordinating hundreds of people, a myriad of details, all for other people. And then there was home, where she barely got two minutes to herself…
‘Tell me about it,’ he said softly. ‘All about it. I want to know.’
She shook her head, clamping her mouth closed. She’d fallen into that one. He had a way of getting people to say things and there was no way she could afford to fall into that trap.
‘I’m interested,’ he said softly, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets.
Skye shook her head. ‘You’re just interested because I was the one person in your life who decided not to play your game.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘I said no.’
‘Other people have said no to me.’
‘And gone unscathed?’
He laughed. ‘Not exactly.’
A hot ache fired in the pit of her stomach at the deep rumble of his laugh. She lifted her chin and glared at him. ‘Leave me out of your games, Nick,’ she snapped, fighting her body’s traitorous response.
Anger. Her only strength was in anger. She couldn’t afford to weaken. She shrugged out of her suit jacket and opened the back door, tossing it across the back seat. She couldn’t afford for him to see what was in the back. She jerked backwards and slammed the door.
‘They aren’t games, Skye,’ he murmured, reducing the distance between them, looking down into her eyes, at her lips. ‘I’m all grown up now.’
She stepped back, swallowing the ache in her throat and resisting the urge to moisten her lips and look at his mouth. Memories coursed through her mind and body, of the magic his lips could evoke in her, of what they’d once shared, of how much she’d lost.
She pressed her legs against the cold steel of the car, grounding herself. ‘That only means you’re more dangerous than ever.’
‘Thank you.’ He looked down at her, his face half-shadowed. ‘But I promise I won’t bite. Come to dinner with me.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’ She looked at her watch and cringed. ‘I have to get home.’
‘Another man?’
She shook her head. The accusation, and his tone, took her back four years. He hadn’t taken her leaving him well—she’d had no choice but to agree to his assumption. Rejecting him totally and utterly on every level had been the only way to ensure that he wouldn’t come after her. ‘It’s none of your business.’
‘I’m trying to make it my business,’ he said softly, his voice deep and velvet-edged.
‘Please don’t.’
‘You’re telling me that you’re not married, not in a serious relationship, yet you’re refusing me?’ He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘On what grounds?’
‘Sanity.’
‘Ha!’
‘Go back to your tall, lanky models, Nick. Leave me out of it.’ Skye grabbed the door handle.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘So, you’re intimidated by what you’ve read in the papers?’
She paused. Darn. She hadn’t meant for him to know how closely she’d been following his life. ‘I’m hardly a model, Nick, and you have to admit they have been your standard fare of late.’
‘Agreed, but that’s not because of their looks,’ Nick said carefully, running his gaze over her as though he was cataloguing just how different she was from his blonde bombshells. Maybe that was the point.
She stared down at the door handle. ‘But they make good trophies hanging off your arm.’ She nearly had enough clippings of him with one pretty woman or another to fill her shoebox—almost as though he was trying to outdo himself, or set a record.
He stiffened. ‘Well, yes, they do, but it’s more that there’s a mutual understanding that the relationships are superficial.’
She