If I Trust You (If You Come Back To Me #4) (5 page)

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to sound so angry—”

“Don’t apologize. I’m not leaving. I just thought of something, that’s all. It arrived yesterday.” She stared at him, bewildered, when he waved at the front door. “I’ll go and get it. It’s in the car.”

Her confusion had only amplified by the time he returned a minute later, carrying an opened cardboard shipping box. Deidre hurried to finish clearing the coffee table of the remnants of their dinner, making room for him to set it down.

“What is it?” she asked a moment later when she’d returned from the kitchen, her eyes glued to the box.

“Open it,” he encouraged.

She knelt next to the table while he sat across from her on the couch. She peeled back the box flaps and peered inside, seeing dozens and dozens of black-and-white and color photos. Excitement pulsed through her. She reached for the five-by-six photo of a woman smiling at the camera, an exquisite arrangement of white hydrangeas and roses on the table before her, sunlight flooding through the window behind her.

Recognition clicked in her, rapid and absolute.

“It’s Lily DuBois,” she whispered.

“Let me see,” Nick requested gruffly.

She turned the photo. He gave a small smile.

“Yeah. That’s Lily.”

“You knew her?” Deidre whispered.

He nodded. “I knew both Lily and George, Linc’s father. George was a rancher. He owned a huge spread between Tahoe and Carson City. When they got older, Lincoln bought a house for them in South Lake, and they spent most of their time there.”

“What were they like?” Deidre asked as she withdrew another picture, this one of Lily in the arms of a large, suntanned man with silver-gray hair and a winning smile. She studied every nuance of the couple’s faces, hungry for the tiniest details. Lily and George DuBois—
her grandparents.

“The two of them couldn’t have been more different, but they were perfect for each other. George was a lot like Linc, bigger than life, personable, a natural horseman, smart and methodical when it came to business. Lily was reserved. Elegant. A sweeter lady never lived. She was English, did Linc tell you that?”

Deidre nodded, now studying Nick like she had the photographs, so eager for any tiny morsel of knowledge about people and a history she’d never known.

“Lily never lost her accent. It made her seem so refined, but never standoffish. Her warmth was her hallmark. She loved flowers and used to show her roses in competitions. The one thing both Lily and George had in common was the love of the land. Lily was always in her garden, George with his horses.”

Deidre continued to dig through the photographs, peering at the faces of people she’d never known, but who somehow seemed familiar to her. There were photos of Lincoln as a young man, tall and whipcord lean, deeply tanned from his days working on his father’s ranch. She saw Lily working in her garden, always wearing a white straw hat to protect her skin from the sun.

“Here’s a picture of one of Linc’s Christmas trees,” Nick said a few minutes after he’d begun to join her in examining the photos.

Deidre came around the table and sat next to him on the couch. There was the magnificent pine tree arranged in the picture window of the great room of The Pines. Standing before it was Lincoln, perhaps at around forty, looking fit, handsome and happy. Next to him stood his mother and father. George had his arm around a tall young man, wearing jeans and a sober expression.

“That’s you,” Deidre whispered as she studied the image of a teenage Nick. He’d been very handsome and intense, even as a boy. A strange feeling went through her, seeing Nick standing there with Lincoln’s family—
her
family. “What were you so serious about?”

Nick frowned at the photograph, his brows forming a V shape. “Who knows? I probably was worried about getting my homework done or something,” he said dryly.

“Homework?” Deidre laughed. “You were that serious about your schoolwork? How come?”

“I think I’m about sixteen in the photo. I was trying to get a scholarship for college,” he said, shrugging.

“Wouldn’t Lincoln have helped you with college?”

“He would have. I didn’t want him to,” he said in a clipped tone that made Deidre realize she was once again treading on tender territory. He must have realized how he’d sounded because he waved his hand sheepishly. “It was a thing between Linc and me. He always wanted to give me more than I was willing to take. He would have taken over as my foster parent at any time, but I...”

“What?” Deidre prompted.

He shrugged. “I was stubborn. I resisted the idea, for some reason. Linc offered to adopt me, as well, but I told him no. I ended up making peace with the Garritsons—the family that fostered me and three other boys—until I went to college. It’s ironic, I guess, how I rebelled against foster families when I was a kid and then finally accepted a family because I didn’t want Linc to take me.”

“I don’t understand. You and Lincoln got on so well together.”

He glanced at her sharply. “I didn’t want to rely on his generosity. I didn’t have much of anything as a kid but a huge chip on my shoulder that might loosely—
very
loosely—have been called pride,” he said with a wry smile. “I spent most of my time at The Pines. I thought of it as home, but I always kept that barrier between Linc and me. I wanted to prove I was worthy of every opportunity he gave me, and it’s hard to do that if you’re legally lord of the manor, if you know what I mean. I’d like to think he understood my need for independence and to prove myself, but I’m not so sure he did. He would tell me I was too serious and needed to enjoy my youth while I still had it. It was an ongoing refrain between the two of us. Just a few days before he passed, he was admonishing me for working night and day on a merger deal.”

“He wanted you there with him. He likely suspected the end was coming,” Deidre murmured, carefully placing the photograph on the table and leaning back on the couch, her gaze on his profile.

“He was right. I should have been with him every minute instead of on the phone, worrying about meaningless business details. I regret it now,” he said stiffly.

“You couldn’t have known precisely when his last days would be. You were there when the time came. You said your goodbyes. It’s normal to regret things when people we love pass,” she said softly. “We always wish we’d done and said more.”

His gaze narrowed on her. Deidre wondered what he saw on her face. “Was this a bad idea?” he asked, nodding toward the table that was now littered with photos.

She self-consciously wiped at a damp cheek. “No. It was a wonderful idea. Thank you for having the photos sent. Why did you?”

“Why did I what?” His longish bangs had fallen on his forehead. Deidre suppressed and urge to comb the strands back with her fingers. How could he seem so hard and cold at times and all too human and approachable at others? A spell seemed to have fallen over her as she tried to gauge his reaction to the photos and understand his relationship to Lincoln. She saw him differently tonight than she had before. He felt deeply about Lincoln, but he rarely spoke of his feelings. It was as if he didn’t think he had a right to have such strong emotions toward Lincoln.

Did he possibly resent her showing up at the last moments of Lincoln’s life, claiming to be his flesh and blood daughter? It saddened her to consider it, but she could completely understand if he did feel that way. She wished for the tenth time that evening that the circumstances between Nick and her weren’t so unusual, so tense, so inherently ridden with conflict. He was a complex, interesting man.

“Why did you have the photographs sent, when you’re not even convinced I’m Lincoln’s daughter?” she clarified softly.

The silence seemed to swell. Deidre experienced his gaze moving over her face like a physical touch. His nostrils flared slightly when his stare landed on her mouth.

“I thought Linc would have wanted you to see them.”

“Oh...I see.”

He looked into her eyes. “I’m not so sure that you do.”

She swallowed thickly. They’d started talking in hushed, intimate voices. She couldn’t unglue her stare from his moving lips.

He lowered his head until their faces were just inches apart. He opened his hand along the side of her head. She trembled when she felt him moving his fingers through her hair. “Why didn’t you tell me about the genetic testing?” he asked, his breath fanning her lips.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was mad at you for always pushing it. I was scared—”

“Don’t be afraid,” he cut her off in a pressured tone. His hand came around and cradled her jaw. “I can understand you being angry, but don’t be scared. Not of me. Not ever.”

She heard his voice through the pounding of her heart in her ears. She watched him, entranced by his image. He looked intent...fierce.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do ever since I laid eyes on you.”

“What?” she whispered.

“This.”

He covered her mouth with his own.

* * *

Something had clenched tight in Nick’s chest when Deidre said the word
scared.
She looked sublimely beautiful staring up at him, her head cradled in his hand, her pink lips parted like a lush, blooming rose.

He shouldn’t have brought over the photos. It’d been insensitive of him. He wasn’t sure if Deidre was Lincoln’s biological child, but he’d come to the conclusion after spending the evening with her that
she
believed it, heart and soul. She believed Lincoln, Lily and George were the family she’d never known. It must have been brutal for her to see them all alive and happy, to witness the evidence of all the days, months and years of lives she’d never known, and never would.

His concern for her vulnerability didn’t silence his mounting desire for her. In fact, it seemed to be increasing it. An overwhelming need to protect her rose in him, mingling with an even more powerful mandate to devour her...possess her. He could have resisted her delicious-looking mouth as easily as he could have single-handedly turned night to day.

Her lips were as eager as his. It enflamed him, the way she leaned into him, the way she molded and shaped her flesh to his, the way she tasted. He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips, hungry for more of her unique flavor. When he probed into the center of her warmth, and she opened for him so willingly, a groan burned in his throat.

She was sweetness distilled.

He probed the cavern of her mouth, stroking, caressing, seeking out more of her secrets. His other hand came up to cradle her jaw. He held her in place, his entire being focused on a kiss that was damned near singeing his very consciousness it was so hot.

She slid her tongue against his and applied a suction that he felt all the way to the place he burned hottest. He muttered her name as he bit at her plump lower lip and then captured her mouth again in a searing kiss. She ran her fingers through his hair, her touch causing a shudder of pleasure to course through him. His hands settled on her shoulders. He brought her against him, suppressing a growl of primal satisfaction at how supremely good she felt. She arched her back and her breasts pressed against his ribs.

He broke the kiss and gritted his teeth.

“You’ve been driving me crazy since I first laid eyes on you,” he whispered roughly as he kissed her neck. It was true. He’d been consumed with a desire to touch her from the first moment she’d looked at him with those singular blue-gray eyes and tilted her chin up in that part amused, part defiant gesture she favored. Her skin was so smooth it was like pressing his lips against a fragrant flower petal. Her body seemed to flow beneath his seeking hands, sleek muscle, supple, tight curves—the perfect combination of strength and soft femininity. He pressed his lips against her throbbing pulse.

“Your heart is beating so fast.” He slid his hand along her chest and rested it over her left breast. She stilled. Her heart pulsed against his palm. Her eyes were glassy with desire when he lifted his head, her lips rosy and damp from his kiss. A primitive, powerful urge rose in him to make love to her.

He shouldn’t do it. Things were getting out of hand. It would make things messy when what he most needed in this venture was objectivity.

She parted her lips.

To hell with objectivity.

He seized her mouth with his own.

He urged her to lie on her back on the couch and came down over her, never breaking their kiss. His blood rushed hot and fast through his veins. One thing existed in the universe for him at that moment, and for once, it wasn’t his drive to make a shrewd business decision.

Only Deidre mattered—only that, and the overwhelming need to lose himself in her.

Chapter Four

H
e pressed kisses along the top of her sweater-covered breasts while she raked her fingers through his hair. Her touch drove him crazy. There was too much clothing separating them. He reached for the bottom of her sweater, pausing when he heard Deidre whimper. He let the material fall from his hand at the poignant sound.

He lifted his head, spearing her with his stare.

“What is it?”

“I can’t, Nick,” she whispered. “It’s not right. You don’t trust me.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it, to say his trust in her grew the more time he spent with her. He stopped himself when he realized how it would sound if he uttered those words.

She’d think he was saying it just to get her into bed.

He cursed under his breath and sat up. It felt like ripping off his own skin to separate himself from her warm, soft, supple body. He clamped his eyes shut and raked his fingers through his hair.

“You don’t trust me either,” he muttered. “It was a mistake not to spend more time with you while Linc was still alive.”

“You were busy. And when you were at The Pines, I wouldn’t let you spend time with me,” she said as she sat up. Her low, smoky voice seduced him all over again. He glanced back at her, sorely tempted to touch her again...to draw her close. Her eyes looked huge in her delicate face. She wrapped her arms beneath her breasts, hugging herself. He was reminded of her vulnerability.

“Will you let me now?” he asked. “For more than just tonight?”

Her serious expression cut at him a little. “I’ll try,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his face.

“Thank you for a nice night.”

She nodded once. “Thank you for the Christmas tree and photos.”

He was having difficulty pulling his gaze off her face.

“I don’t want to dislike you,” she said with sudden earnestness. “It doesn’t seem right. Especially now that I’m starting to understand how much you meant to Lincoln.”

He closed his eyes and glanced away.

“Nick?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he muttered, inhaling deeply and willing his boiling blood to cool.

“That company, Vivicor? Do you really think it’s important that you—we—move fast on the purchase?”

He glanced back at her in surprise. “Yes.”

She looked hesitant. “If you think it’s a good business decision, I’ll do whatever you want me to do to make the deal happen. I don’t want to hold back progress in Lincoln’s company.”

A silence ensued. She seemed hesitant in meeting his stare. “Are you sure, Deidre?”

She nodded, although she looked far from certain to him. “Because I don’t want you ever thinking that what happened just now—” he waved at the couch they’d come close to incinerating with sudden, blazing need “—had anything to do with me getting your agreement for the Vivicor purchase or DuBois Enterprises or the will.”

“I don’t think that.” Her expression didn’t entirely convince him that what she said was true, though.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. The thought struck him that there was a good chance family members had warned her against him, advised her not to sign anything he requested, and here she was, offering to do just that. No wonder she looked so uncertain. He couldn’t say he blamed her.

But damn it, he
did
need her consent for the deal.

“Why don’t you give me your phone number and we’ll get together tomorrow afternoon and go over things in more detail. You can make your decision about Vivicor then,” he said, standing. They walked to the kitchen, and he donned his coat. She stood watching him, the flush of arousal on her cheeks a stark contrast to the paleness of the rest of her skin. He fought down another surge of desire to take her into his arms again.

“Trust takes time, Deidre.”

“I know that,” she said quickly.

“I mean in the literal sense, not just the figurative. The more time we spend with each other, the more comfortable we’ll be.”

“As business partners?”

“As any kind of partner.”

He touched her cheek before he opened the front door, and experienced the strangest mixture of triumph and utter defeat as he walked into the frigid December night.

* * *

Deidre couldn’t sleep. So much had changed between Nick and her that night, it was a challenge to wrap her mind around it all. The memories of the evening that made her most restless were of that kiss—the way Nick’s mouth felt moving over hers, his taste, his lean, solid body pressed against hers, his heat...

She finally fell asleep just before dawn. When she awoke to the jarring sound of the alarm, all of her doubts and uncertainties were there, ready to pounce on her. She rose, wishing she hadn’t promised Colleen and Eric she’d help out at the Family Center today. She was exhausted. For more days in a row now than she could recall, she put an extra scoop of coffee in her morning brew.

She’d responded wholeheartedly to Nick’s touch, she admitted to herself bemusedly as she showered. She’d known there was a spark of attraction between them, but their suspicion of one another and the strange circumstances had made it necessary to suppress that spark. Attraction was one thing, but the degree of heat Nick and she had generated when they touched was unprecedented, at least in Deidre’s experience. She’d been one kiss, one stroke, one plea away from going to bed with Nick Malone, of all people.

Surely she was behaving predictably, falling for such an attractive, powerful man. Most women would have adored spending an evening with him, basking in his attention and blossoming beneath his masterful kiss. Problem was, Deidre wasn’t most women. And the situation between them was far from common.

Bizarre, more like it.

Had she made the wrong choice, allowing him into her life?

No clear-cut answer came to her soul-searching, and she finally resolved to live with the uncertainty. Of course it hadn’t been wrong to consent to the Vivicor acquisition when Nick—a brilliant businessman—endorsed it wholeheartedly.

He’d been right about the issue of trust. It would come if it was meant to come, but in its own time.

Work and the familiar routine of her nursing duties acted as a godsend to her stormy spirit. She enjoyed Colleen’s tour of the Family Center and working with Eric on intake exams. Afterward, she drove through Harbor Town, feeling reflective.

She drove past Sutter Park, seeing the town’s festive Christmas tree and the kids ice-skating in the outdoor rink. It wasn’t a familiar sight to her. Liam and Colleen had been full-time Harbor Towners for a period of time in their youth, attending high school there following Derry’s death. Marc and Deidre, however, had spent only their childhood summers in the picturesque lakeside community. Maybe being there in the wintertime was partially responsible for this discordant feeling she possessed, like she was returning home, but also a stranger in Harbor Town.

Her mother wanted this to be a homecoming. Deidre had lost count of the number of calls she’d left unanswered from Brigit Kavanaugh. Maybe their mother-daughter rift was responsible for her present feeling of nostalgia and loss.

Wanting to snap herself out of her gloomy mood, Deidre parked at the Starling Hotel. Marc, Mari and Riley were leaving later that afternoon for Chicago. She’d already said her goodbyes yesterday, but seeing her brother and his family one more time would be a dose of good medicine.

She walked along the plush carpet, her attention fracturing when she heard a man speak from one of half a dozen private alcoves branching off the luxurious main lobby of the hotel. She came to an abrupt halt, recognizing the voice.

Nick sat in an armed, wingback chair that angled away from Deidre as she approached, his long, jean-covered legs sprawled before him. Deidre could only see him in partial profile. She walked toward him, excitement and anxiety at the unexpected encounter making her heart thud rapidly.

“The important thing is that she’s seeing the importance of being more cooperative. No, we won’t get any of those results for a week or more,” he said.

Deidre paused in her silent tread on the plush carpet, realizing his cell phone was pressed to his ear and that he was in the middle of a conversation. She hesitated, preparing to retrace her steps to give him privacy.

“You’re not going to get them to speed up the results any, John. Confidentiality is crucial in the health care field,” Nick said.

John.
He must be speaking to John Kellerman, DuBois Enterprises’s chief legal officer, she thought as she eased backward. Kellerman had never tried to disguise his contempt for Deidre.

“I told you yesterday where I stand on the matter. I’ve witnessed nothing so far to even hint she had any part in coercing him to change his will.”

Deidre stopped dead in her tracks. Nick was talking about
her.

“According to her, she had no idea Linc had plans to alter his will,” he said, then paused, listening. He straightened in the chair. “I’ll do what’s best for DuBois Enterprises. You know that... No,
I’m
the one who has to be satisfied, John. Not you. I’m the one whose interest and shares were decreased by the new will. As the injured party, I’m the only one who can legally contest the will, if it should ever come to that,” Nick said, his voice quiet but sleety with anger. He paused. “I recognize it might not have been the wisest choice Lincoln could have made for the company. Lincoln’s state of mind when he changed the will is a separate issue from whether or not Deidre Kavanaugh is truly his daughter and whether or not she had any part in manipulating him to change his will in her favor. I’m inclined to doubt the latter. We’ll just have to wait for the lab results. As for the rest, I’m not certain what to think yet.”

A man and a woman passed in the lobby behind her conversing loudly. Deidre hardly noticed as she listened to Nick talk about her as coolly as he might the daily stock market news.

“No. Deidre told me the name of the facility. GenLabs, in Carson City,” Nick said.

Deidre inhaled sharply. Nick sat forward abruptly, his gaze latching on her. She turned and rushed toward the lobby exit.

“Deidre...wait!”

She ignored his command and hurried toward the front doors, stumbling when she crashed into a man entering the lobby while talking on his cell phone. She mumbled an apology and soared out of the hotel toward the parking lot. Just before she slammed her car door shut, she heard Nick call out to her again. She ignored him, her brain awash with anxiety over what she’d just heard.

By adding me to his will, Lincoln cut Nick’s inheritance?
she thought numbly. Nick had just mentioned the genetic testing to Nick Kellerman so coldly, as though something that had become crucially important to her very identity was a business factoid to be shared and bartered.

She’d made a mistake by being honest with him. Thank
goodness
she hadn’t yet broken her word to Marc and signed anything at Nick’s request. By the time she pulled into Cedar Cottage’s drive, her heart was beating a rapid, furious tempo against her breastbone. She sat gripping the wheel for half a minute after she shut off the car, trying to calm herself, willing the queasiness in her belly to diminish. Again, her appetite had been poor this morning, and now she was paying for it. She opened the car door, gulping in the cold, fresh air coming off the lake.

“Deidre.”

She swayed next to her car, glancing back. Nick was getting out of his sedan. She’d been so disoriented she hadn’t noticed him pull in behind her. He was coatless, and his expression was tense.

He slammed his car door shut and stalked toward her. Something volatile felt like it was going to explode from her chest. She raced through the yard and up the front steps of Cedar Cottage, nearly making it to her front door when Nick caught her elbow. She spun around and yanked at her arm, but he held firm. Words burst out of her throat like she’d been storing them under pressure.

“I can’t believe you told him about the testing! I told you that in confidence.”

“You never asked me to keep it a secret, Deidre,” Nick said, towering over her.

She struggled to inhale. She felt like she’d been slugged back in that lobby and she was still recovering from that blow.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Lincoln had cut your shares in DuBois and his inheritance to you when he included me in the will?”

“I wasn’t trying to keep it from you,” he said, vapor from his breath billowing around his mouth. “I thought it would have been obvious, that I was previously his sole heir.”

A tear of frustration and anger landed on her cheek, seeming to freeze against her skin. “A lot of things aren’t obvious to me, Nick. You’ve accused me in the past of taking advantage of Lincoln when he was vulnerable, and yet you have no problem at all doing the same to me. You know I don’t know very much about business. You know I’m...confused after everything that has happened to me in the past few months,” she said furiously. “I let down my guard to you last night, and you take the information and use it for your own means—”

“Deidre—”

“Get away from me, Nick,” she seethed, throwing off his hold and shoving her key in the lock. He grasped both of her shoulders at once in an iron-strong hold. She felt the pressure of his body against hers from behind.

“I didn’t mean to upset you or betray a confidence,” he breathed out quietly from just above her left ear. She went still, shivering uncontrollably at the sensation of his chin brushing her hair as he spoke. “The fact of the matter is, the truth is going to come out as soon as you receive those test results. You weren’t planning on keeping the results secret, were you?”

“No, of course not.” Her voice vibrated with anger, but she didn’t move away from him.

“This is crucial information to me, as well as John Kellerman.”

Deidre turned the key and plunged into the warm kitchen. She immediately headed toward the living room, sensing that Nick was behind her and wanting to escape. How could she have spilled her guts out to him last night? The only thing he cared about was that damn company and all the power and money that went with it. Lincoln meant so much more to her than that.