A Night To Remember Read online

  Like the hazardous amber liquid, Nicole Holiday wasn’t nearly as innocuous as she appeared.

  Apparently, Timothy Holiday did not believe in small talk. After finishing his second drink, he glanced at Andrew’s glass. “You aren’t drinking. Somethin’ wrong with it?”

  Andrew cleared his throat. “They pumped me full of painkillers at the hospital,” he explained, shamelessly falling back on his injuries. “Can’t risk mixing the pills with alcohol, even as good as this is.”

  Timbo seemed satisfied. He nodded. “Had your New Year’s toast, anyway. For luck. Nicky, take the boy on home and let him get some rest. He don’t need to be gallivantin’ around like this after saving your hide. Don’t worry about the dog. I’ll take care of her.”

  “I know you will, Uncle Timbo.” Nicole rose obligingly and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be back when I have more time to visit.”

  “You do that,” the old man said gruffly. “And take care of yourself, you hear? I don’t want you takin’ on any more blowhards with guns. You’re much more precious than any sparkly stones, real or otherwise, you hear?”

  Andrew could see that the blunt words had touched Nicole. Misty-eyed, she kissed her great-uncle again. “I love you, too, Uncle Timbo.”

  Andrew shook the old man’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  Timbo nodded curtly. “Come back anytime. Don’t get many visitors out here.”

  “Maybe that has something to do with the barbed wire around the place?” Andrew suggested with a faint smile.

  Timbo gave another bark of laughter. “Might be. Truth is, I’d rather spend time with my animal friends than most of the folks I’ve come across.”

  Andrew had never met anyone quite like Timothy Holiday, but he found that he rather liked the old man. He wondered about Timbo’s background; he would ask Nicole during the drive home.

  He didn’t know how she managed to stay upright in those heels on the rough path back to the road, but she handled it amazingly well, leaning against him only lightly for balance. He slipped an arm around her waist, ostensibly for support, but mostly because he enjoyed the feel of her.

  His head was swimming a bit. Probably a combination of exhaustion, adrenaline, painkillers and one gulp of Timbo’s lethal potion. Not to mention his intimate proximity to Nicole.

  He stumbled on a root. He regained his balance quickly, but it embarrassed him to be the one fumbling around when she was balanced on three-inch spikes.

  Nicole pressed her hands against his chest. “You okay?” she asked, pausing on the path to look up at him.

  Damn, but she was beautiful in the moonlight, he thought, staring down at her. Just as she’d been in chandelier light and neon light and shadows. He couldn’t remember ever looking at a woman and wanting her so badly his hands trembled.

  He wanted Nicole that badly. And the depth of his hunger shook him, considering the snippets he’d learned about her in the past hours. She was so very different from what he’d been looking for in a woman; yet, oddly enough, he felt as though she were everything he’d ever desired.

  “Andrew?” She frowned, obviously wondering at his silence. “Is your head hurting?”

  “No,” he muttered, pulling her closer. “Not my head.” He saw no need to mention the parts of him that ached most fiercely at the moment.

  Her hands slipped around his neck as his head lowered purposefully. Her lips met his willingly, parting just enough to invite him to kiss her thoroughly. He did.

  Magic—or madness. Whichever, he had no desire to fight it just then.

  Nicole was in his arms, warm and slender and vibrant. Their lips and tongues tangled in a kiss that rocked him to his toes. They stood alone in the woods, the night cold and still around them, the crisp scent of winter in the air, an owl hooting softly, lazily, from somewhere nearby.

  Andrew had never experienced anything quite like this. Maybe he never would again. And he found that he was in no hurry for the enchanted interlude to end.

  Nicole sagged against him when he finally, reluctantly pulled back for air. Her soft laugh was unsteady. “You’ve made my knees go weak,” she said.

  His stomach immediately tightened again. “Then hold on to me,” he growled, and crushed her mouth beneath his once more.

  It was inevitable that he would finally have to pull away. Nicole seemed to be in no more hurry than he was, but he could feel the fine shivers running through her, could see her ragged breath hanging heavy in the chill air. Her skin was icy, though her eyes glowed warmly when she smiled up at him.

  “You’re cold,” he said, contrite.

  “Funny,” she murmured. “I feel like I’m burning up.”

  He found her candor as unnerving as it was refreshing. It might be a bit easier for him to resist her if she didn’t seem to be as helplessly captivated as he was by whatever had developed between them. Or maybe not.

  He managed to get back through the barbed-wire fence without losing any of his clothing. He didn’t give Nicole a choice of driving this time, but climbed behind the wheel himself after helping her into the passenger side. He quickly started the engine and turned up the heat.

  He could feel Nicole’s gaze on him as he turned the Range Rover around in the middle of the gravel road and headed back toward civilization. “Aren’t you sleepy?” he asked, her silently intense survey making him a bit self-conscious.

  She shook her head. “Not yet. Are you?”

  “No. But talk to me while I drive, just to keep me alert.”

  She smiled. “What would you like me to talk about?”

  “Tell me about your family. Start with your uncle Timbo.”

  “My great-uncle. He was my grandfather’s brother. He used to be a farmer, but he sold the farm when his wife died ten years ago. They didn’t have anyone to leave it to.”

  “What about you and your sister?”

  “We weren’t interested in farming,” she admitted. “Neither was our cousin, Nate, my dad’s brother’s only son. We urged Uncle Timbo to take the money and use it for his retirement. There wasn’t a lot, once all the loans were paid, but it’s enough to let him live on his own for as long as he’s able.”

  “You said you were looking for a job here. What do you do?”

  “I was trained in dental hygiene. I worked at it for a year before I finally admitted I hated it. Then I went into retail sales—makeup, clothing, furniture. I’m pretty good at sales, but then I wanted to try something new. I worked at a day-care center in Minneapolis. I loved the children, but I’m afraid I wasn’t overly tactful with the parents who didn’t seem to be taking very good care of their offspring. Nothing makes me madder than seeing a child or a helpless animal mistreated or neglected.”

  “What sort of work are you hoping to find now?”

  She shrugged. “Something will come along. It always does.”

  Andrew thought impulsively about offering her a job in his company. Even if he never went out with her again—as common sense seemed to dictate, considering how different they were—he thought she could work for him without awkwardness. His company was large enough that he rarely saw most of his employees, other than those at the top management levels. He was sure there was something suitable for Nicole in one of the departments.

  He kept quiet. He allowed his personnel manager to do the hiring without interference from him. He’d never requested that she hire anyone, and he didn’t like to think of the possible gossip that would result from his recommending Nicole. Perhaps later he could suggest that Nicole apply through the usual methods.

  “I’m thinking about taking some classes in decorating, once my younger sister finishes college,” Nicole volunteered. “I’ve always loved decorating, and I’m pretty good at it. I’ve been told that with some formal training, I could do well in it.”

  “Why do you have to wait until your sister finishes school before you get your own training?”

  “I’ve been helping her out with expenses when I can. She�
�s only a semester away from her degree in education, and I’m almost as anxious as she is to see her graduate. I’m so proud of her.”

  Andrew frowned. “You’ve been putting your younger sister through school?”

  “I haven’t put her through singlehandedly. Amy works when she can afford the time away from her studies, and she’s kept her grades high enough to qualify for scholarship money. She’s the smart one in the family,” Nicole added in almost maternal satisfaction. “She’ll make a wonderful teacher.”

  “What about your mother? Is she able to help your sister financially?”

  “Mom does well to take care of herself. She’s not very practical, I’m afraid. Money seems to evaporate from her fingertips.”

  Sometimes Nicole’s candor made Andrew just a bit uncomfortable. He’d never lacked for money, himself. Never wondered how he’d pay for his next meal or phone bill. Never been responsible for supporting anyone but himself—and that had been easy, considering that a president’s chair had been waiting for him practically from the day he’d graduated from college.

  Not that he hadn’t worked hard. Determined to prove that he fully deserved the position he’d inherited, he’d given everything he had to his career during the past years. It had been that single-minded dedication, as much as their differences, that had ended his engagement to Ashley. But he was satisfied that he had proven his competence and his worth to his associates, and that he’d effectively erased most of the early doubts about his youth and lifetime of privilege.

  He listened attentively as Nicole chatted brightly and rather aimlessly during the drive back to Memphis. She didn’t reveal much more about herself than he’d already learned, her conversation centering mostly on her pride in her sister, and her fondness for her cousin, the “undiscovered genius.” She added a few funny stories about her experiences as a Southerner in Minneapolis, making him chuckle at her dry self-directed humor. He tried not to think about how they would part when they arrived at her motel.

  He knew how he wanted this long, adventurous evening to end. He just wasn’t sure it would be at all wise to give in to the aching hunger that had been growing stronger with each hour he spent with her.

  WHEN THEY RETURNED to Memphis, Nicole directed Andrew to a budget motel in the airport district. Andrew was already a bit concerned about the location—and then he saw the bikers.

  The motel’s parking lot was filled with massive motorcycles. Even at this very early hour, there were a few tattooed, leather-jacketed bikers hanging around the place, drinking out of bottles hidden in brown paper bags, loudly guffawing despite the time and regardless of anyone who might be trying to sleep.

  “Looks like this crowd came in after I left last night,” Nicole murmured. “My room’s around back.”

  Aware that they were being watched, Andrew frowned and negotiated carefully around to the less well-lit side of the cheap motel. Nicole pointed out the door to her room. It was the one with the large, hairy man sprawled on the sidewalk nearby, passed out from an excess of liquid celebration.

  “You aren’t really planning to stay here?” he asked, parked in front of her room and glaring at that snoring, leather-and-chain-clad giant.

  She shrugged. “I’ll lock myself in. I’ll be fine, Andrew. I’ve stayed in worse places.”

  “I haven’t. Ever.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” she murmured.

  A man and a scantily dad tattooed woman rounded the corner of the building, stepped over the inert body on the sidewalk, and shouted something mercifully unintelligible at Andrew and Nicole before disappearing into a dark stairwell.

  “Isn’t there anywhere else you can go? Out of all those friends you greeted at the dance dub, wouldn’t any of them put you up for the night?”

  “They were more acquaintances than friends. Most of them I’ve only met a few times there at the club. There are a few people I could call, but I wouldn’t want to disturb any of them at five in the morning. Trust me, Andrew, this motel is perfectly safe. I’ve been staying here for several days and I’ve had no trouble at all.”

  “The clientele has apparently changed since you arrived.”

  “Well, yes,” she admitted. “But they probably won’t stay long. I’ll just lock myself in and leave them alone. I’m sure I’ll sleep until midafternoon, and maybe they’ll be gone by then.”

  The biker who’d been sleeping on the walkway rolled over, half sat up, scratched his scraggly head and sprawled back out again. He seemed oblivious of his surroundings, of the hour, of the chill in the air. If he was uncomfortable on the cold concrete, he didn’t show it as he squirmed into a new position and went back to sleep.

  Andrew shook his head. “I’m not leaving you here,” he said in sudden decision. “Let’s get your things.”

  “I paid in advance. I can’t afford another motel tonight.”

  “Then you can stay at my place.”

  When she gave him a doubtful look and started to speak, he held up a silencing hand. “I have several spare bedrooms,” he told her. “And a housekeeper to chaperone if that makes you more comfortable. But there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving you here.”

  He continued to look at her while she made up her mind. He sensed her mental debate—as well as her automatic resistance to his dictatorial tone. He didn’t blink. He knew how to use his innate air of command when it was necessary. It had served him well in the past.

  Whether because she sensed that he wouldn’t give in, or because she really didn’t want to stay at the motel, Nicole finally conceded. “All right,” she said quietly. “Ill get my things.”

  He wisely hid his satisfaction and merely nodded in return. “I’ll help you,” he said, reaching for his door handle.

  6

  NICKY WAS STILL trying to decide how she felt about Andrew’s actions as she pulled into his driveway. She had followed him from the motel in her own services able little car, with nearly everything she owned packed into the trunk.

  On the one hand, she found it rather flattering that he’d been concerned enough about her safety to invite her to stay at his home. He hardly even knew her, after all, and there’d been times during the evening when she’d wondered if he was anxious to be rid of her.

  On the other hand, she resented his arrogance in extending the invitation—which had sounded suspiciously like an order. She had never done well with orders. He’d gone along easily enough with just about everything she’d suggested during the evening, but he’d made it quite dear that he had no intention of leaving her at that motel.

  Why had he asked her here? Had it been strictly an impulsive, charitable gesture, motivated by simple concern for her welfare? She’d never liked taking charity.

  Or were his motives less noble? Did he really intend to offer her a guest room, or was he hoping she would share his bed? And if that was what he had in mind, what would she say?

  Casual sex had never been her style—but she wasn’t sure she could resist Andrew Tyler. Just remembering the way he’d kissed her in Uncle Timbo’s woods made her tremble again.

  She knew he was attracted to her—she’d be a fool not to know it by now—and she was obviously attracted to him, too. More than she wanted to admit, in fact. But she didn’t care for the idea that he saw her as an easy conquest. A holiday fling. A New Year’s novelty.

  She didn’t want to be hurt again.

  After all, she thought, biting her lower lip as she sat behind her wheel, staring blindly at the large Colonial style home he’d led her to, she had no reason to believe that Andrew had fallen as hard for her during the eventful evening as she had for him.

  She certainly hadn’t intended to fall for him; her first impression of him hadn’t even been all that positive, other than to make note of his good looks. She’d thought him stuffy. Stiff. Humorless. Overindulged and overly proud.

  That impression had lasted less than an hour. Oh, she still thought part of the description applied. But she’d learned this
evening that there was much more to Andrew Colton Tyler III than originally met the eye. More than even he suspected, perhaps. And she found every facet of him intriguing.

  She just wasn’t at all sure he felt the same way as he learned more about her.

  A tap on the driver’s-side window made her realize how long she’d been sitting there, lost in her thoughts. “You haven’t fallen asleep, have you?” Andrew asked through the glass.

  She smiled, shook her head, and opened the door. “Just drifting for a moment,” she said lightly. “So this is where you live.”

  She hadn’t been surprised when they’d driven through manned security gates to his home, or to find that the neighborhood was an exclusive one. The homes were relatively new, all having been built within the last three years. The large, uniformly elegant houses were positioned around an eighteen-hole golf course. The lawns were large, immaculate and professionally landscaped. Intimidatingly perfect.

  “Yes,” Andrew said. “This is where I live.”

  “Nice.” She climbed out of the car and reached into the back seat for her overnight bag, hoping her sudden attack of nerves didn’t show in her expression. Maybe she should have gone to her cousin’s apartment and crashed on his broken-down couch. Or stayed in the motel, despite Andrew’s misgivings.

  Had she allowed him to persuade her to come with him because she’d given credence to his warnings—or because she hadn’t wanted him to say goodbye and drive away?

  Leaving both their vehicles parked in the circular driveway, Andrew took her bag and led her up the steps to his front door. He unlocked it, opened the door and stepped aside to motion her to precede him. He flipped a switch to turn on the crystal chandelier hanging two storeys above the marble floor of the foyer.

  “Welcome to my home,” he said, looking at her without a smile.

  The words—and the tone in which he’d spoken them—made her shiver. She moistened her lips, looking up at this man she’d met only hours before.