were a few wedding guests outside in the gardens, and Edie could hear an occasional murmur of a voice or crack of laughter. From an open window came the lilting sounds of the orchestra playing a waltz. But as magical as it was, it was less enthralling than the man next to her.
He stood very close, but not touching her as he leaned forward, his elbows on the wall, the pristine white of his shirt cuffs peeking out from beneath his dark suit coat. His fingers were loosely knotted together. In the light of a three-quarter moon, she could, glancing sideways, see the light and shadow on the hard angles and planes of his face.
Her sister Rhiannon had casually and flirtatiously stroked his cheek. Edie’s fingers curled into a fist so she wasn’t tempted to do likewise. She turned her gaze away, too, tried to focus on the tableau below.
What Nick was actually thinking she didn’t know. While moments ago in the stairwell she would have said he was as aware of her as she was of him, now he seemed so remote she doubted he was thinking about her at all. So she turned her head to risk another look.
He turned at the same time. Their gazes locked. The heat flared. And Edie’s breath caught in her throat.
Nick cleared his. Then, deliberately he straightened. “It’s getting cool up here. Shall we go down?” His voice was perfectly polite, but Edie thought she detected a hint of raggedness in his tone. The raggedness of desire?
Did she even know what that sounded like anymore?
“I’ll go first on the way down,” Nick decreed.
“So I can crash into you and knock us both all the way to the bottom?” Edie joked.
“Hang on to my shoulder if you want. I’ll go slow.”
He did go slow, but she didn’t reach for him. She might have liked a hand, but clutching at him unnecessarily was something Rhiannon would have done, so Edie deliberately didn’t do it. She just kept one hand on the wall as she made her way carefully down the steps behind him and tried not to stumble and crash into him. It was a relief to reach the hallway again and to have Nick turn and secure the door.
“That was lovely. Thank you,” she said, slipping the flipflops off and holding them out to him, smiling up at him at the same time.
Nick didn’t smile back. His features were taut; there was almost a grim line to his mouth which, after a moment, he managed to curve into something resembling a smile. Then he stepped back and said briskly, “Well, there you have it. Nick Savas’s two-bit architectural tour.” He flashed her a quick glib sort of smile.
Edie’s smile didn’t flash. It remained firmly in place. But her heart was galloping and she had the sensation of walking on water. She dared not contemplate it too closely. She just needed to keep going. “It was wonderful.”
Their gazes locked again. Nick’s expression wasn’t remote now. His eyes were intent. Focused on her. The silence went on. And on.
Until finally Nick said, “I want you.”
His voice was rough. She heard an edge to it, a desperation almost. And something that sounded like annoyance. Edie wasn’t annoyed. But she was shocked to hear him say the words so bluntly. At the same time, to her own astonishment, elated.
“Is that a problem?” she asked, keeping her tone light.
“Isn’t it?” he challenged her, one brow lifting.
She blinked at the ferocity of his tone. “We’re adults,” she heard herself say mildly.
“There’s more to it than that.”
“Yes.” She nodded, unsure where he was going with this.
“Usually,” he amended.
Edie shook her head, not following. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean,” he said firmly, “that I don’t want anything more than that.”
“Than sex?” Edie said, wanting to be clear.
His jaw tightened and he looked faintly discomfitted by her plain-speaking, but nodded. “Exactly.”
So much for fairy tales, Edie thought.
But really, she wasn’t expecting a fairy tale, either. She knew better. So why not be frank? Why not set out parameters?
If Kyle Robbins had done so years ago, she wouldn’t have been expecting a proposal of marriage when he’d simply wanted to go to bed with her. She wouldn’t have had her hopes raised merely to see them dashed.
“I don’t do relationships,” Nick continued to spell it out. “One night. That’s it.”
“Those are the rules?” Edie said, smiling.
Nick nodded. “Those are the rules.”
Their gazes met again, clear and unblinking. No starry-eyed foolishness here, Edie thought. No romance. No hearts and flowers. No expectations.
“Okay,” she said at last, drawing the word out even as she came to terms with the implications.
Nick’s brow rose a fraction higher. “You’re all right with that?” He sounded as if he didn’t believe her. “You’re sure?”
“Well, I’m not expecting a proposal of marriage,” Edie said sharply.
Nick raked a hand through his hair. “Good,” he said with obvious relief. “Because I’m not making one.” He shuddered and shook his head. “Never again.”
“One day you might—” Edie began.
But he cut her off. “No,” he said, absolutely adamant. “I won’t.”
Edie didn’t think she ought to say she felt sorry for him, but the truth was, she did. She had loved Ben with all her heart and soul. But she would never say she wouldn’t fall in love again, wouldn’t marry again. She’d told Mona she wasn’t interested because she hadn’t been—then.
It didn’t mean she wouldn’t ever be.
Good grief, look how suddenly things could change. Two hours ago her hormones had been missing in action. She hadn’t been remotely interested in a man. And now—now she was contemplating going to bed with a man she barely knew. Why? Because she was attracted to him, certainly. But mostly because she didn’t trust herself not to do something even more foolish with a recently divorced, clearly interested Kyle Robbins. One night with Nick was far preferable.
“So if you’re not interested, I’d completely understand,” Nick was saying.
“I’m interested,” Edie said. “One night. No relationship. Got it. That’s what I want, too.”
Nick stared at her long and hard.
Edie stared back, unblinking. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. The words echoed around her brain. Still he didn’t move.
“I know what I’m doing,” she assured him, with the slightest hint of irritation.
