Falling For Nick (26 page)

Nick turned at the sound of her voice. She stood in the doorway. Her hair looked windblown, sexy. No matter how many times he saw her, Clea's beauty always caught him off guard, and it took him a minute to recover his senses. "Hi." John stood beside her. "Hi, John."

John didn't reply.

"John's come to work off his debt," Clea said, her tone up-beat. "I'm sorry we're a little late. I wanted to make sure John had a snack first."

"It's okay." Nick gestured for them to move inside. "Come in."

Clea walked directly to the '53. "That's an old car."

"I know it's not much to look at now, but when I finish the restoration, it'll be a real beauty."

She stepped closer to take a better look.

"I've got two more lined up after this," Nick told her. "The web page is working. In fact, I could use another bay, but Mullin will only rent me this one." Nick smiled. It felt great to know his business plan was working. It felt even better to share the news with Clea.

"I knew you'd succeed," Clea said, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice, see it in her eyes. She ran her fingers over the roof of the Bel Air. "I like the colors."

"Root beer and cream," Nick said, telling her the names of the colors.

She smiled. "I like that. It sounds delicious." Clea touched John's arm. "What do you think of the car?"

"It's okay." John kept his head down, his focus on his tennis shoes.

Wanting to get John's attention, Nick pulled the door open. "Get in. See how much room it has? They don't make cars like this anymore."

"No," Clea agreed. "Go ahead, John."

A frown on his face, John got in the car. "It smells funny."

"Like dust and mold." Nick grinned. "It's old. It's supposed to smell that way."

"Well, I'll leave you two alone to get to work," Clea said, backing away. "I'll be back at six to pick him up."

"I can bring him by," Nick offered.

A skeptical look crossed her face. "I suppose that would be all right."

"Okay." Nick gave her a wave. "Go on, we'll be fine." He said the words with a confidence he didn't feel. He had no idea if John would respond to him, or if he could handle his own son. Squashing his doubts, Nick said, "John and I have plenty of work to do."

"Bye, John," Clea said.

"Bye." John popped the glove box open and looked inside with interest.

Nick leaned into the car, dipping his head to avoid hitting the frame. "Ready to get started?"

"I don't know what to do," John said, the words petulant. He touched a chrome tissue box, which was mounted under the dash. "What's this?"

"It holds a box of tissue." Nick reached inside the car, tapping the box. "Look, it swings out so you can take a tissue."

"Cool." John glanced at him. Nick could see the wonder in his eyes, that familiar excitement he too felt when looking at an old car. John had the same car bug Nick did. Cars were a common interest for them, one Nick intended to exploit if it helped him get closer to his son.

Nick smiled. John glanced away. Nick ignored his frustration, refusing to give in to it. It wasn't going to be easy to win his son, but he would never give up trying.

*   *   *

"I can't believe you just took your son over to that filthy garage and left him there," Vivian said.

Clea stood at the kitchen counter chopping carrots for a salad. The blade bit into the carrots with more force than necessary. If she didn't rein in her annoyance over her mother's questions, she'd cut her fingers off.

"John is fine, Mom. He needs to be responsible for his actions. He's lucky Nick is giving him the chance to pay for the damages instead of calling the police."

"The police!" Vivian's voice rose. "It's Nick's fault John did those things to his silly car. If Nick had stayed away, John would be the happy little boy he's always been."

Clea sighed. She scooped the carrots into the bowl. "I don't think John's been happy for a long time, Mom. The counselor seemed to think his anger started a long time ago, but Nick's return caused John's emotions to snowball. We need to talk about Nick with John. Nick can't be a dirty little secret, Mom. He's John's father."

"Oh for God's sake." Vivian pressed her fingers to her temples. "He's a sperm donor. He hasn't shown any interest in John up to this point."

"You're wrong." Clea came around the counter and took a seat on the sofa, next to Vivian. "Nick wrote me. He sent me money every month he was in prison, but I sent the money back. I didn't open the letters. I denied John his father. Do you see that? I'm to blame for this mess, not Nick."

"That's not true, Clea. You were trying to protect your son," Vivian said.

"No, Mom." Clea's hand went to her heart. "I was trying to protect myself. Nick hurt me. I loved him so much. Maybe I still do." It felt liberating to say the words out loud, voicing thoughts she'd left trapped inside her for ten years.

Vivian blanched. "You don't know what you're saying. Nick will never amount to anything. People like us don't fall in love with people like him."

"People like us?" Clea repeated, wishing she could make Vivian understand. "There aren't any rules when it comes to loving someone."

"I won't listen to this." Vivian stood, the blanket covering her legs dropped to the floor.

"Sit down, Mom." She didn't want her mother to get upset, to add to the stress she already felt, but Clea couldn't pretend anymore. Something was happening between her and Nick. Something she needed to explore before marrying Robert, or taking John away.

A knock sounded at the door. Clea glanced at her watch. Five forty-five. Nick and John were early. "That's probably John. Can we let this drop for now? I don't want him upset."

Vivian sat down, her mouth pinched.

Clea went to the door and pulled it open. Robert and his parents stood on the landing, none of them smiling. A feeling foreboding came over her.

"Hi," she said, unable to keep the surprise from her tone. She'd expected Robert, but not Ellen and James Bloomfield.

"Hello, darling." Robert kissed her cheek.

"Come in." Clea pulled the door open wide. "Hello, Senator. Ellen."

"Good evening, Clea," Ellen Bloomfield said, as she passed in a cloud of expensive perfume. Impeccably dressed in a navy pants suit, a brightly patterned scarf at her throat, Ellen exuded cool sophistication. In fact, Ellen was always a little on the cool side, even when it came to her family. She never showed too much emotion. Clea hadn't realized until now how much that bothered her.

"Clea, nice to see you," Senator Bloomfield greeted, giving Clea's hand a warm squeeze. "I hope we're not interrupting."

"No, of course not. I was just making dinner. I'm always glad to see you. Is there a reason for this visit?"

"I called them here," Vivian said from her perch on the sofa. "We need to discuss things with you, Clea. You haven't been thinking clearly since that man returned to town."

"That man?" Clea repeated, feeling like a horse being led to slaughter. "You mean Nick? John's father."

A slight hiss escaped from Ellen. The senator cleared his throat.

"Darling, we don't mean to gang up on you," Robert said, his tone placating. "We're worried about you, and especially about John. You just don't seem to be making the best decisions now."

"Nick Lombard is a criminal," Ellen said. She fingered a large ruby ring on her right hand. "Do you really want him around John?"

"Why don't you just say it?" Clea said. "Nick killed Danny. That's what this is about, isn't it? What happened to Danny has nothing to do with John. Nick loves John. If you saw them together, you'd know it. Last night Nick showed me how much he loves his son. He kept me from falling apart, when I knew he wanted to fall apart, too. I can't exclude Nick from my life because he makes all of you uncomfortable."

"You're not in your right mind." Vivian pressed her lips together before shooting a pleading look at Robert.

"Excuse me?" Clea said, her temper shooting up. She didn't like being ganged up on. Every instinct she had told her to protect Nick and John. "Are you implying I'm crazy for letting Nick into my life?"

"Well, you haven't been yourself." Robert came to her and took her hand. "I know things will be better once we leave town, but don't you think it's best if we nip things in the bud right now? Aren't things confusing enough for John? Why add Nick to the mix?"

"It's too late," Clea cried. "Nick is back to stay. No one is asking any of you to like it. In fact, and I'm sorry for saying so," she looked at the Bloomfields, "it's not really any of your business."

Ellen gasped. Senator Bloomfield turned away, walking over to the window. Thankfully, he'd kept silent so far.

"Clea Rose!" her mother said. "Apologize at once."

"No," the senator said. "She's right. It isn't any of our business."

"It most certainly is," Vivian replied.

Clea pulled her hand from Robert's. "I know you don't like Nick, Mom, and I'm sorry, but I have to think of John. He needs Nick in his life, even after we go to New York. He will need his father forever. Can any of you accept that?"

The door burst open, and John ran through, Nick behind him.

John skidded to a stop when he saw the group. "Hey, why is everyone here?" he asked, surprised. A streak of grease marred his right cheek. His shirt was untucked, his hair wild.

Clea saw the worry in Nick's eyes. "They stopped by to see if you were all right," Clea lied. "Everyone was worried about you last night." It was the reason they should have come by, and it saddened her that they hadn't asked about John once.

"I'm okay," he said, sounding skeptical.

"Why are they together?" Robert asked, his focus on Nick. "What's happening here?"

"John is working with Nick at the garage," Clea explained.

"What!" Robert strode to Nick. "I told you to stay away from Clea and John."

"Robert," Senator Bloomfield warned. "Stay out of it."

"I won't stay out of it," Robert cried, his voice rising. "He killed my brother. I don't want him around Clea or John."

"That's not really your choice, Boomer," Nick said quietly.

"The hell it isn't!" Robert took a menacing step toward Nick.

"Stop it." Clea stepped between the two men, halting Robert's progress. She cast a worried glance at John. His eyes were wide with horror.

"Shut up," John shouted, covering his ears with his hands. "Stop it. Stop yelling at my dad. I hate all of you." John ran from the room, slamming his bedroom door.

"Son of a bitch," Nick muttered with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry, Princess." He walked from the apartment.

Clea started after him, but Robert grabbed her arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "Don't you dare run after him."

Clea yanked her arm free. She'd never felt more confused, yet she couldn't let Nick go, not like this. Stepping outside, she called, "Nick, wait."

He'd already started down the stairs, but he stopped and waited for her to catch up.

"I didn't know they'd be here," she said. "Robert had no right to speak to you that way. I'm so sorry." The hard look was back in Nick's eyes. The urge to reach out and touch him almost overpowered her, but she fought the feeling, not wanting to make things worse. Changing the subject, she asked, "How did it go with John?"

"Fine."

He said the word through clenched teeth. Clea could feel his anger, and she couldn't blame him for being mad. He'd been attacked in her apartment.

"John's a quick study," he said. "I think he liked working on the car, even though he'd never admit it to me."