Undressed by the Rebel. Alison Roberts
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time ago he’d heard the doorbell chime and feminine voices drift down the hallway to the study, where he’d closed himself in after supper. More of Cecilia’s friends stopping by, or yet another guest arriving for the big day.
Across the desk from Nick sat his two oldest friends, Ethan Carmichael and Aaron St. John. Both were dark-haired, neither quite as tall as Nick; all of them had just passed their thirtieth birthday. Between them sat the bottle of Scotch they’d been working on for the past hour or so.
Occasions such as this were a rarity for the three of them. With large companies to run, they seldom had time for an evening of cigars, open collars and conversation.
Which was probably a good thing, Nick decided as he took another sip of Scotch. His head had started to buzz three drinks ago.
“Thank God this wedding nonsense is almost over with,” Ethan declared, puffing his cigar. He elbowed Aaron, who was sitting next to him. “Now you can get on with the honeymoon.”
Ethan fell into a fit of laughter, and Aaron grinned stupidly. Nick dropped his feet to the floor and thumped his fist on the desk.
“That’s my sister you’re talking about.”
Ethan gulped down his laughter with a swig of Scotch.
“Yes, your sister. A woman for whom I have the utmost respect, and whom I love more than life itself,” Aaron said. “But after so long a time, you can understand how I’m…anxious to have this whole thing over with.”
“A hard-fought battle,” Ethan agreed, saluting him with his glass. “How long have you and Cecilia been engaged now?”
“Fourteen months, two weeks and five days,” Aaron said.
Ethan shook his head. “This wedding business…damn lot of nonsense, if you ask me.”
“How many parties and the like?” Nick asked.
Aaron rolled his eyes. “Dinners, receptions, engagement parties and celebrations—hell, I’ve lost count. Not to mention the hours spent with the florist, the clergy, looking at china patterns, talking about honeymoon plans.”
Ethan grinned and sipped his drink. “But well worth it after you walk down the aisle.”
Nick rapped his knuckles against the desk and pointed at Ethan. “None of that kind of talk.”
A light knock sounded and the door opened. Cecilia stepped inside the study, smiling at the three of them.
“I see you boys are behaving yourselves,” she said.
They clattered to their feet. Aaron, the first to rise, crossed the room to stand beside her.
Cecilia glowed. Nick had seen that happiness on her face for months, growing more luminous as the weeks passed. Now, with the wedding two days away, she was positively radiant.
She smiled up at Aaron and he down at her. They moved close, as if drawn to each other instinctively, but were careful not to touch.
They were in love. Any fool could see it. Nick wasn’t sure why it made his chest ache a little.
Must be the Scotch, he decided, and took another gulp.
“Can I steal you away for a few minutes?” Cecilia asked, gazing up at her intended.
Aaron followed her out the door without a backward look.
Nick watched the two of them disappear and the door close. He and Ethan dropped into their chairs again.
“Seems it’s worth it,” Ethan said. “The wedding hoopla, I mean. Worth it to be married, from the looks of those two. Lately, I’ve found myself thinking that I wouldn’t mind being married.”
Nick’s gaze came up quickly. “You’re joking.”
His friend shrugged. “No, not at all. I guess I’ve come to the point in my life where having a wife, looking toward the future, producing children, seems, well…it seems—”
“Appropriate.” Nick sat back in his chair. “Actually, I’ve been thinking the same.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Really.”
The idea had come as a surprise to Nick, too. He’d had no time or energy for such thoughts until lately.
Since his father’s death six years ago, Nick had focused his efforts first on maintaining, then increasing the wealth his father had left him to manage. Nick had the welfare of his mother, his sister and a parade of relatives on his shoulders. The house, still under construction at the time, had had to be to finished—and paid for, of course. So that they could feed their own families, the workers in his father’s businesses had depended on him to keep those businesses going, keep them profitable. All of them had depended on Nick.
It had consumed him, driven him, nearly beaten him at times. He’d been but twenty-five years old when his father had died, out of college only a short time and not quite ready to take life so seriously.
But he’d persevered. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—fail the many people who relied on him. He wouldn’t fail the memory of his father. Or fail himself.
With mentoring from some of his father’s friends, and an uncanny instinct for business he hadn’t known he possessed, Nick had doubled the family fortune. Now, on his own, he was about to triple it.
He sat back in his chair again. “I have everything else in life. A successful business, a good home, financial security. What the hell am I going to do with it?”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Think you’ll hold on to all that money? Even with that Whitney project you’ve started?”
Nick shifted in his chair. “It will make me a fortune.”
“If it doesn’t bankrupt you first,” Ethan said. He nodded. “Gutsy move on your part, I’ll give you that. Going it alone on such a huge undertaking is risky.”
This wasn’t the first time someone had expressed concern about his latest business venture. It was a massive project, already months in development, with thousands spent, and they’d not even broken ground yet.
But he’d investigated it thoroughly, looked at it from every angle, consulted with experts in the field. Nick was confident he could pull it off without additional partners or financial backers. In fact, that was the only way he wanted to complete this project.
Somewhere in the middle of a sleepless night a few months ago, the thought had come to Nick that he had no one to leave his fortune to. The notion had been floating in the back of his mind ever since.
“I suppose,” Ethan said, “having a wife, then a family, is the next logical step.”
Nick sipped his Scotch and nodded. “It makes sense.”
Ethan snorted a laugh. “Just who the hell do you think is going to marry you?”
“I could ask you the same,” Nick said. “You’ve got a list of faults a mile long.”
“Me?” Ethan rocked forward in his chair. “I can’t even think where to start naming all your shortcomings. You’d never find a woman willing to marry you.”
“Like hell.”
“I could find a wife quicker than you,” Ethan told him.
Nick grunted. “In your dreams, maybe.”
“Want to bet?”
Nick gazed across the desk at his friend. Over the years the two of them had wagered on most everything imaginable. Neither man liked to lose.
“You’re not serious,” Nick said.
“Why not? We both want to get married. Why not make the whole process a little more interesting?”
Nick stroked his chin. “What did you