a delightful surprise.” The old-fashioned courtliness of his gesture was at odds with the pure wickedness in his eyes. “Welcome to my home.”
Heat flashed through her, owing nothing to the temperature and everything to the simmering, latent sexuality he exuded. His voice was as smooth as velvet, meant for dark steamy rooms and rumpled satin sheets. The image that description conjured up was just a little too real, and had tension spiking through Sara’s muscles.
“You know each other?” Puzzlement was evident in Celeste’s voice as she watched their byplay.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Their simultaneous but contradictory responses had the older woman’s brows climbing.
Sara felt compelled to explain, “Your grandson has come to the café where I work on a few occasions. That’s all.”
“For some reason Amber seems anxious to avoid me,” Nick added, taking a seat next to his grandmother. “What a delightful surprise to find her here this afternoon, especially after she turned down my earlier invitation.”
She gazed at him with genuine dislike. “If I’d had any idea that you were related to Celeste, you can be sure I wouldn’t have come.” In the next moment she flushed, realizing how that sounded, and sent an apologetic glance to the older woman. She needn’t have bothered. Nick’s grandmother gave all appearances of finding their conversation highly entertaining.
“So Amber rejected an invitation from you? How…fascinating.”
“She appears to have a strange, and totally unnecessary, compulsion to avoid me.” He broke off as a servant entered with a tray of iced tea.
Celeste accepted a glass and drank deeply from the cool beverage with obvious enjoyment. “Amber, please forgive my grandson. He has been outrageously spoiled by women, myself included. It does him good to be thwarted by one now and again.”
Sara took a drink of her tea. “I have a feeling he’s more in need of it than most.”
The woman’s eyes crinkled. “Again you are correct.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Nick pointed out. Lazily, he reached out to pick up his glass. As he drank, he took the opportunity to survey his grandmother critically for signs of fatigue. She looked frailer every time he came home, so he’d made his visits more frequent. Watching the indomitable matriarch of his family fade with each passing year was perhaps the only thing capable of touching his heart. “Why don’t you tell me how the two of you happened to meet up?”
“Oh, I just met Amber at the library and we hit it off,” his grandmother said airily. She was an accomplished liar, but not accomplished enough to fool him. Her color was high, and there was a slight tremor in her hand as she set down her glass. He thought he could guess something close to the truth, even if it wasn’t forthcoming from his fiercely independent grandmother.
“I’ve enjoyed seeing your home.” His attention shifted to Amber, who was studiously avoiding looking at him as she spoke to his grandmother. “But I really have to get going or I’ll be late for work.”
His brows skimmed upward when Celeste took Amber’s hand in hers and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “It was such a pleasure, my dear. Thank you so much for everything.” With the mantle of age, his grandmother had abandoned some of the niceties of polite society. She didn’t waste time, or civility, on anyone she didn’t hold in some esteem.
“I enjoyed meeting you.” Amber’s smile was the first genuine one Nick had seen from her, and his hand faltered for an instant in the act of raising his glass. As if she felt his gaze on her, her smile quickly faded, to be replaced with her more familiar wary mask.
“Perhaps we’ll meet again. I think I would enjoy getting to know the woman who can hold her own with my grandson.” Eyes twinkling, Celeste rose. “I’ll tell Benjamin that you’re ready to leave.” With careful steps she left the parlor.
Nick took the opportunity to refill Amber’s glass, noting the way she stilled as he drew closer. He could almost see the effort it took for her not to move away, and felt an element of admiration, tinged with amusement. She was determined not to show him even that small weakness. He understood that kind of control, possessed it himself. He wondered what kind of experiences had forged hers.
“Are you going to meet with Douglas tonight?” she asked.
She’d managed to surprise him. Taking his time setting the pitcher down and settling into his chair once more, he studied her. “Why?”
Her fingers worried the earring at her lobe. The nervous gesture was at odds with the defiance in her eyes. “It wasn’t fair of you to make the meeting conditional upon my accompanying him.”
“I don’t play fair, Amber.” A thought occurred to him then, and wouldn’t be quieted. “What’s your relationship with Fairmont?” He was adept at eliciting the information he wanted with far more finesse, but her answer mattered more than it should have.
“Are you asking if I serve him more than breakfast?”
“Do you?”
Silence stretched, while their gazes did battle. “No.”
The elastic tension inside him that had stretched taut while he waited for her answer slowly relaxed. He hadn’t thought so, but her defense of the man had had him reconsidering. “Good.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because…” he paused to sip his iced tea “…I have no intention of entering into a business arrangement with a man I would later have to destroy.”
Shock flickered across Sara’s expression. Her hand clutching her glass, she rubbed her thumb over the condensation collected on it. “And I have no intention of accompanying him here tonight. Will you still help him?”
“I may. It depends on the figures he shows me.”
“So…you’re into investments?”
Smiles didn’t come easily to him, but he felt one on his lips now. “I make all sorts of investments. Some more lucrative than others.”
From her expression it was obvious that his cryptic response failed to satisfy. But she didn’t press him for details as other women might have done. Instead she said in a very matter-of-fact voice, “I won’t sleep with you, you know.”
The tea had difficulty passing the sudden knot in his throat. He hadn’t expected such forthrightness from her, but then, he really didn’t know Amber Jennings. Not at all. “I reserve the right to try and change your mind about that.” He noted with interest the way her fingers flexed on her glass, and wondered if the action reflected anxiety or annoyance.
“You don’t look like a man who enjoys wasting his time.”
“I’m not.”
Her glass made a small clink on the marble tabletop as she set it down, then rose. “I’d like to leave now.”
“I’m sure Benjamin has the car ready.”
She
