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She stared after him until he noticed that he was walking alone and turned to
wait for her.
"I don't understand," she said blankly.
"What?" he asked.
"You. . . you want me, but you won't do anything about it, and we're friends, but
we're not," she stammered. "Nick, what do you want with me? What do you want
from me?"
His dark eyes ate her from her jet black hair to her black and white pumps.
"Honey, you'd be amazed."
"I already am," she murmured. "You could have any woman you wanted . . ."
"You're the only one who's never wanted me," he returned, "or my money."
"Is that why?" she persisted.
He turned away. "We'll have to talk about it someday. But not now, honey, I've
got work to do. We'd better hit the road."
In no time at all, it seemed, they were back at the rambling old house in Ashton.
Mandy smothered her with kisses and rattled off about the invitations, the
decorator's bill, the caterers, the lack of phone calls, and half a dozen related
subjects until Nicholas's rigid posture in the hall caught her eye and she vanished
with a quick smile into the kitchen.
"Don't you want coffee?" Keena asked him.
He shook his head. His big hands were deep in his pockets and he looked strangely
alone, standing by the door, his eyes quiet and faintly sad.
"You didn't bring your valises in," she added.
"I've already had them sent back to New York," he replied. A faint smile touched
his hard mouth. "I'm not staying."
She should have been relieved. She should have shouted for joy and jumped up
and down. But instead she felt a foreign urge to bawl and scream.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Business, love," he replied. "Things I can't handle from here. A labor dispute in
the knitting mill, an equipment breakdown in Chattanooga. . . and on it goes."
"But you said—"
"I know what I said," he agreed. "Keena, you're a grown woman. I can't protect
you from life, no matter how much I might want to. There's something called trust
in any worthwhile relationship. It's time I let go of you, love. It's time I let you
stand alone."
Her heart felt like heavy stone in her chest. "But, Nick, you'll miss the party,"
she said plaintively.
One corner of his mouth went up. "Send me an invitation."
She returned the smile a little shakily. "I'll do that. Nick, you aren't still angry at
me?" she asked with a burst of apprehension. "You aren't saying goodbye . . ."
He went toward her, catching her waist with two big, warm hands to draw her
unresistingly against his body, so that she could feel every inch of him touching her.
"Good-bye isn't a word we're ever going to use," he said gently. "I'm giving you
some breathing room, that's all. We've come a long way in a little time, but you've
got to be sure. I've said that before, now I'm saying it again. Have your party. Get
Harris out of your system. Spend some time with him. But, nothing further, Miss
Liberty," he warned, something dangerous in his gaze. "Not unless you tell me first.
I want your word on that."
She had to force herself to speak. "You sound very possessive," she whispered.
"You belong to me," he replied simply. "I'm not handing you over to any other man
unless I'm damned sure it's right for you, and that's why I want a promise. Now."
"All right," she agreed without knowing why she did it.
He nodded. "And if you need me, you know where I am."
Her hands smoothed his shirtfront, already feeling the pain of separation. "Will
you call me?"
"No."
"Why not?" she asked, incredulous.
"I'll be busy. Remember that invitation."
"Yes, Nicholas." It was going to be worse than ever. Even when he left the
country, he called her. She felt desolation move over her like an icy wind.
"What a sad little voice," he murmured gently. "None of that. Smile for me."
She raised her sad eyes to his. "I don't feel like smiling. I'll miss you."
He searched her face. "I hope so," he murmured. "So long, my own."
She studied his mouth. "Are you going to kiss me?" she whispered.
"If you want me to."
She glowered at him and moved away. "Never mind, if it's such a trial to you."
He laughed softly, and she waited for his hard arms to come around her, her eyes
closed, a dreaming smile on her mouth. A minute later she heard the door open.
She whirled, shock in her eyes, but he didn't look back. He closed the door
behind him.
"Nick," she whispered in anguish.
She ran after him, but he was already down the steps, and by the time she got to
the top step, he was cranking the Rolls's soft engine.
She folded her arms tight over her breasts, hurting. She didn't understand
Nicholas or herself, but she understood the ache within. She felt alone, as she
hadn't felt since her early teens. She felt completely, hopelessly, alone and she
didn't know how she was going to go on living without Nicholas somewhere in her
life. Had he said good-bye forever, and all that talk about coming to the party and
giving her some freedom was nothing but a placebo? Oh, Nicholas!
CHAPTER EIGHT
In six years it was the first time she'd gone more than two weeks without seeing or
hearing from Nicholas. As the days passed, she felt herself withering, a flower
without sunlight to sustain it.
James, whose company had entertained her once or twice a week, barely seemed
to notice that she wasn't overly communicative. He enjoyed talking more than
listening, anyway, and he didn't know Keena well enough to sense that there was
anything wrong.
At her encouragement he'd contacted Nicholas, and the mill was in the process of
being gobbled up by Coleman Textiles. But not one word about Keena had entered
the negotiations. She had probed carefully in an effort to find out, and had been
disappointed at the answer. After all those years of friendship, had Nicholas really
forgotten about her? Didn't he care?
"You're seeing a lot of that Harris man," Mandy commented one night as Keena
waited for James to pick her up.
Keena only shrugged, tugging the cowl neckline of the pale green silk that washed
down her slender body like a second skin. It was a simple design, but elegant enough
even for Ashton's best restaurant.
"Nick doesn't care," she said bitterly. "He hasn't bothered to call, and it's been
three weeks! The party is Friday night," she added, which was only two days away.
"He got an invitation," Mandy murmured. "I sent it by itself to make sure."
Keena's full mouth pouted. "He won't come."
"I wouldn't count on that." She admired the dress and smiled. "Very pretty. Does
Mr. Harris appreciate the effort?"
She laughed softly. "He appreciates my encouraging him to ask Nicholas about
buying the plant, that's all. He's a nice man, Mandy. A little devious, a little boyish,
but very nice."
"Only that?" Mandy asked.
Keena sighed. "Yes! Isn't it sad? All these years I couldn't wait to come back and
have my revenge on James for all that humiliation I thought I suffered from him
and his friends. And do you know what? Nicholas was right. What attracted me the
most about James was that I couldn't get him nine years ago. How sad."
"And, Nicholas?" Mandy asked softly.
Keena's fingers pleated the soft jersey nervously. "He doesn't care about me,"
she repeated.
"You can't cage a wild sparrow," Mandy said, in one of her enigmatic moods. "You
have to free it and hope it will fly back to you."
Keena stared at her. "Have you been into the brandy?"
The doorbell sounded and Keena paused just long enough to grab up her red fox
jacket and toss it over her shoulders. Nicholas would love the new addition to her
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