The Case of the Confirmed Bachelor. Diana Palmer
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but this wasn’t how she’d envisioned it. Not at all like this.
Her dreams had been passionate ones, full of Nick. Dreams died hard, and hers never had. Now that he was back in her life, she’d have to start all over again forgetting him. Perhaps, she thought, it would be easier when he left. Meanwhile, all she had to do was live through the next week, and hope that he could clear her name. If he couldn’t, she thought with real fear, she might not even have a job much longer!
Tabitha couldn’t find a ring she liked. Honestly, she wasn’t that interested in marrying Daniel at all. He seemed bent on using her, while she was hitting back at Nick in the only way she knew. It was ridiculous to promise to marry one man just to show another that someone found her desirable. As if Nick was fooled! He’d seen right through Daniel’s motives for the engagement. Probably through Tabby’s, too. She flushed.
Daniel had taken her to a nice restaurant for lunch. She was nibbling dessert while he went to the bathroom.
Her mind was far away from the strawberry shortcake she was eating. It was on that fatal New Year’s Eve party.
She’d felt as if anything was possible that night. She’d been wearing a black dress with spaghetti straps, her long hair around her shoulders. She’d left her glasses off—despite the fact that she was nearly blind without them—and put on much more makeup than usual. Helen had told her that Nick was finally ready to settle down and that it was Tabby he really wanted. That bit of encouragement had been just enough, along with the alcohol, to make her act totally out of character.
Nick, gloriously handsome Nick, had been leaning against a door frame sipping punch. Tabby had stared at him with her heart in her eyes, drowning in the sight of him. She’d loved him for, oh, so long!
Putting her punch on a nearby table, she’d walked a little unsteadily to where he was standing in the shadows of the room while sultry blues music played from the stereo nearby.
“All alone, Nick?” she’d asked, with pouting lips.
He’d smiled indulgently. “Not now,” he mused. “You look nice, Tabby. Very grown-up.”
“I’m twenty-five.”
“That wasn’t what I meant. You aren’t very worldly.”
“I’m working on it,” she purred. “Want to see?”
She noted the faint surprise on his face as she suddenly stepped close to him, smoothing her slender body completely against his.
“Tabby!” he exclaimed.
“It’s all right,” she’d whispered nervously. “I only want to kiss you, Nick. And kiss you…and kiss you…!”
She’d reached up while she was speaking and looped her arms around his neck to draw his shocked face within reach. She knew little about men and less about kissing with her mostly academic background, but she loved him and she put her heart into it.
She seemed to shock him. His body froze for a few seconds. Then his dark eyes closed and his mouth hardened, and all at once, it was Nick who was doing the kissing. His steely arm clenched around her and jerked her into his body, one powerful leg moving just enough to let her slim figure intimately close while the kiss went on and on. His lips lifted while he breathed unsteadily.
“Is this what you want?” he asked roughly.
“Yes,” she breathed, coaxing his mouth back to hers. “Do it again,” she whispered against his hard lips.
He obliged her. The glass of punch found its way onto a table. They were hidden from the rest of the party goers by a large potted plant and an alcove, but Tabby was beyond knowing where they were. She let her hands slide up and down his long back, gave her mouth to him totally even when he deepened the kiss far beyond her meager experience. She began to moan softly when she felt Nick’s thighs against her.
That was when he jerked back and pushed her away with a vicious motion of his lean hands.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded harshly, his dark eyes blazing. “You’re no drunken floozy out for a cheap roll in the hay, are you? Or is that what you do want?” he added with an insolent laugh. “Do you want me, Tabby? There’s probably a room upstairs that we could use. Or as a last resort, we could go out on the patio into a dark corner and pull up your skirt…”
She’d cried out at his remarks. “No! Nick, I want to marry you,” she’d blurted. “I know you’re ready to settle down. I want to have children with you. Isn’t that why you came back?”
His face had actually paled. “I came back to check on my father’s house. Nothing more.”
“But… But I thought…” She swallowed and went deathly pale. “I thought you wanted me.”
“A dried-up spinster with a computer for a brain and no breasts to speak of?” he asked arrogantly. “My God, did you really?”
She ran. She turned and ran out the door and went straight home—blind and deaf to the turmoil she’d created in the face of the man she’d left behind. Helen had come after her and she’d cried on her friend’s shoulder until dawn, only then swearing Helen to secrecy about her anguish.
She hadn’t touched a drop of liquor since, and the shame lingered. But Nick would never know how badly he’d hurt her. All she required now was his help to clear her name. And then maybe she would—and maybe she wouldn’t—actually marry Daniel.
Having Nick come back was slowly clearing away the desperation and madness of the past few empty months. She could see what she’d been doing, trying to substitute Daniel for the man she wanted. She couldn’t have Nick, but she didn’t need to make herself and Daniel miserable by trying to replace him with someone who would never be more than second best.
That decided, finally, she smiled at Daniel when he came back and managed to keep the conversation on just a friendly level for the rest of the afternoon.
Chapter Three
Nick had always been fascinated by the forensics lab at FBI headquarters. It had a reputation second to none for being able to put together evidence from almost nothing. A human hair with its DNA structure could yield a pattern as individual as a fingerprint. The tread of a tennis shoe involved in a murder could be traced to the person who purchased it. A scrap of cloth could yield an incredible amount of information about its owner. And the FBI boasted the largest file of fingerprints on record anywhere. It was an agency to which Nick had been proud to belong. Leaving it had been a wrench, too. A woman with whom he’d been involved had been killed while he’d worked there. She, too, had been a special agent, infiltrating a counterfeiting ring. She’d been spotted and eliminated. That was how the supervisor had put it. Nick had been inconsolable and he’d quit the agency.
He wondered now if it hadn’t been a case of simple loneliness and pity. The woman had needed someone at a time in Nick’s life when he was feeling hopelessly alone. He’d almost turned to Tabby. But at that time, she’d been shy and introverted and he’d been sure that she would back away from any advance he made. She’d seemed to see him in only one light—that of a protective, affectionate older brother.
Obviously she hadn’t seen him like that at the New Year’s Eve party. His blood still ran hot at the memory of how eager she’d been for him. Now, having had time to adjust to seeing her in this unexpected way, he’d regretted pushing her away.
But years ago, he’d wanted Tabby. It had been because of that that he’d pursued the woman at work in the first place, out of a need to prove to himself that any woman would do. He didn’t need a shy, nervous young woman who didn’t even see him as a man.
Sometimes he thought Tabby was a bit afraid of him. The first move she’d ever made toward him had been at that party, when she’d had too much to drink. Apparently he was only palatable to her if she was too tipsy to think properly, and that was hardly flattering. If she’d ever wanted him in the old days,