The Morning After. Dorie Graham
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And this area, Coral Gables, looked like a great place to do just that. She was meeting her agent at the first house they were viewing.
The house was in an established tree-lined neighborhood with wide boulevards and lots of green space. No wonder Coral Gables was called The City Beautiful. Even better, it was a short commute to her clinic and she’d always loved this area. Tess and Erin would, too.
Nikki drove past a curious mixture of colonial-, French-, Dutch- and Chinese-style houses, some with ornate entryways. This area certainly had a flavor all its own. A bicycle path wound alongside the road. She turned onto a quiet side street.
“This must be it. Five-eighty-nine Chestnut Lane,” Nikki murmured to herself as she pulled up in front of a two-story house.
She glanced up and down the quiet street. Ginger Parker, her agent, was nowhere to be seen. Nikki left the engine running. Cool air hissed through the air-conditioning vents as the sun beat down around her car. Shifting forward, she peered at the house.
She liked it immediately.
It had a classic look, with bay windows across the front and wide dormers below the sloped roof. Barrel tile covered the surface and an archway to one side appeared to lead to an inner courtyard. Ferns, palm leaves and deep russet and gold flowers hinted at a garden beyond.
She started at a swift rap on her window. A stranger peered in at her. Blond hair swept back from his furrowed brow. Blue eyes narrowed on her. A myriad of emotions seemed to swirl in their depths, and foreboding swept over her.
Blowing out a breath, she rolled down her window. “Yes, may I help you?”
“You’re Ms. McClellan?” A roughness edged his voice.
It veiled a deeper vulnerability. Though he was a big man—hearty and hale, as Sophie would say—he somehow seemed…not whole, as if he was broken inside. How this revelation came to Nikki, she couldn’t say, other than the usual way she felt things about people.
And what she felt about this man drew an empathic rush from her heart. He carried a deep sorrow. It pressed him down with a crushing weight.
The stranger cleared his throat. She fumbled to remove her sunglasses, warmth fanning across her cheeks. She’d been staring. “Yes, I’m Nikki McClellan.”
“Mrs. Parker phoned to say she’s been delayed. I thought you might like to wait inside.”
“Oh. You’re the owner?”
He nodded briefly, his expression unchanging. “Dylan Cain, at your service.”
She cut the engine. “Thank you, Mr. Cain.”
Though he stepped back, she was all too aware of his solid presence as she exited the vehicle, then turned to fidget with the lock.
“She shouldn’t be long. You can wait in the study or you’re welcome to have a look around.”
She walked beside him, her chin just topping his shoulder. He was tall, over six feet. Her arms tingled as the sheer vitality of him shimmered over her. She caught his spicy scent and her pulse quickened.
“Is this really a courtyard?” Needing to put some distance between them, she veered away from him, nodding toward the archway. A riot of tropical flowers stirred in the slight breeze drifting through the opening.
“I wanted a home that brought the outdoors in. The courtyard and its gardens are a central feature.” He led her into the refreshing coolness of the garden.
Nikki inhaled a sharp breath. Tall palm trees presided over much of the space, adding needed shade. A large fountain stood amid a circular garden in the courtyard’s center. Water splashed and gurgled from an urn held by a laughing mermaid, while her sisters freed a wide-eyed fisherman caught in his own net. Small buds of yellow, red and orange danced all around the fountain’s rim.
The four corners sported smaller gardens, each with its own theme. A kettle wind sock prevailed over what appeared to be a bevy of herbs. Tropical flowers peered between and around huge boulders of varying shapes and sizes on the far side. Another area paid homage to a stand of palms that shaded a cozy hammock, and the last paraded flowers in a rainbow spectrum.
“It’s beautiful.” She turned slowly in a circle, breathing in the sweet floral scent.
“Yes, beautiful.” His tone was dark and fluid.
She faced him. Heat shimmered in his eyes as his gaze traveled over her. Awareness warmed her blood. Framed by the tropical garden, he looked like a predator ready to strike. She took an involuntary step backward.
He straightened and the moment passed. “Every room has a view of the gardens.”
Sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy and winked off the floor-to-ceiling windows and wide French doors that must indeed usher the outdoors in.
“This is incredible,” she murmured. “I’m surprised you can bring yourself to part with it.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “It’s time.”
Again a feeling of empathy swamped her. She stilled the impulse to place a comforting hand on his arm. Whatever ailed this man, he seemed quite inclined to deal with it himself.
“Would you care to see the rest?” He gestured toward a pair of French doors.
“Yes, that would be nice, if you don’t mind.” She followed him into the main entryway.
Jewel-colored light splashed across the wall above her. Opposite, a stained-glass panorama stretched above the heavy oak doors, depicting a mermaid singing to a sea prince.
“Do you prefer to wander on your own or would you like the guided tour?” Cain asked.
Her glance fell across a side table adorned with an assortment of gilt-framed photographs. The delicacy of the table and its ornate trimmings seemed in contrast to the man’s dark nature. A blond woman with an easy smile peered from one of the frames.
Nikki straightened, suddenly feeling very much like an intruder. “I’d like the guided tour…if I’m not keeping you from anything.”
He gestured with a wide sweep of his arm. “This is the foyer.”
Her gaze again gravitated toward the stained-glass window. The mermaid’s wistful expression elicited a strange melancholy in her. Or did the image evoke the emotion in Cain and she was feeling it from him? Why would such a beautiful display cause him sorrow? She frowned. Being empathic wasn’t easy.
She blinked inexplicable moisture from her eyes as his gaze pinned her. “Is it an original?” she asked. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it—or the fountain, for that matter.”
“Yes. They were both commissioned.”
He turned stiffly, and she followed him into the formal living room off to one side of the entryway. Here the contrast between the style of furniture and the man seemed even starker. High wing-backed chairs and sofas, dark claw-foot tables and delicate lamps adorned the space. Silk wallpaper with tiny rosebuds covered the walls, one of which featured shiny brass sconces flanking a large oil painting of a Victorian lady meeting her lover.
Nikki couldn’t help but verify her suspicions. “You collect antiques?”
Though his shoulders remained steady, he seemed to sag somehow. “It would appear so.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just a little odd. You don’t seem to be the claw-foot type.” As if she had any idea what type he might be.
His gaze caught hers. For a moment a storm threatened in his eyes, then he cocked his head and seemed to relax. “Perhaps I’m not.”
“Oh.” She waited with bated breath, but he didn’t elaborate.
Did the woman in the picture collect the antiques and knickknacks? If so, where was she now? Was she the cause of Cain’s pain?
And