she hurried to the kitchen and put on a kettle of water. She and Bess loved to share their secrets over a cup of hot tea. She didn’t want to share any secrets with Nick, but at least making tea gave her something to do.
“Do you think Gentleman’s Quarterly will want photos?” Nick asked, his voice husky.
Andrea whirled around, one hand going to her throat. He’d sounded just like that when they’d made love, exhorting her to greater heights. Her memories, those forbidden memories, were driven from her head when she got a good look at the tall, virile man striking a ridiculous pose in the doorway.
Though lean and fit, Nick was a big man. At six foot three, he towered over her. He’d also towered over his uncle, now long dead, because the overalls he was wearing ended a good four inches above his feet, enclosed in striped socks. On the other hand, his uncle must have required more room at his waist because the denim material flapped around Nick’s middle.
Underneath the straps of the overalls he wore a gray sweatshirt that stopped at his waist and fit his broad chest like a second skin. The sleeves ended above his wrists.
In spite of the trauma of the past few hours, Andrea burst out laughing. “Très chic!”
She was reminded of the danger Nick represented when his sexy grin appeared, and he took a step toward her. She quickly backed away.
“Where are you going?”
“Um, I’m fixing some tea. Do you want some?” Turning her back to him, she opened the box of tea bags just as the kettle began to sing.
“Yeah.”
In that one word he let her know that he was no happier about their situation than she was. To avoid looking at him, she busied herself with the mugs and spoons, the cream and sugar, moving it all to the table, then finding a saucer for the oatmeal-raisin cookies Bess always had on hand.
By the time she brought the kettle to the table to pour boiling water into the mugs, Nick had sat down and was waiting. Though it was a cowardly thought, she wished she could come up with a reason to take her tea to another room. But he’d only follow her.
Or would he? He certainly hadn’t followed her when she’d left their home, their marriage. He’d apparently accepted her exit with equanimity. And that was what she wanted, she quickly reminded herself. Exactly what she wanted.
“Thanks.”
She nodded in return, agreeable to talking in monosyllables. At least that limited their topics of discussion.
“Has it been raining the whole time I was gone?”
He’d left for Africa three weeks ago. The rain had begun almost a week later, but no one had expected it to last so long.
“Just about.”
“Things looked pretty bad from the air. Has Aunt Bess had any trouble? She could have contacted my office. My staff was instructed to help with anything she needed.”
Andrea sipped her tea and then nibbled on a cookie, studiously counting the raisins as if she were a quality control inspector.
“You’ve stayed in touch?” he asked.
She stared at him before returning to her contemplation of the cookie. Was he upset that she hadn’t turned her back on Aunt Bess? Well, tough.
“Yes.”
He heaved a sigh that would’ve launched a kite. “Andy, could you give me more than one-word sentences?”
Her gaze returned to his and she raised her chin in defiance. Before he could say anything else, however, she gained control of her temper. She would not act like a child. “I beg your pardon. So much has happened, I’m afraid I’m not myself. Yes, of course, I stayed in touch with Aunt Bess. We’re friends.”
“You also don’t have to treat me like a stranger you’ve just met. We were married, damn it. Still are, for that matter.” Though he kept his voice even, his blue eyes were chilly.
She addressed the only thing of importance in his remarks. “I’ve been intending to apply for a divorce, but—but it’s expensive.” That was the truth, but it wasn’t the only reason. Otherwise she would have taken out a loan. “If you’re in a hurry—”
“No.”
Risking a brief glance at him through her lashes, she then picked up her spoon and needlessly stirred her tea. Was he angry that she hadn’t started proceedings? What was wrong with him? He could divorce her, if he was in a hurry.
Her eyes widened at the thought, and she looked at him again. “Have you applied for a divorce?”
“No.”
She straightened her back. “What was it you said to me? ‘Couldn’t I talk in more than one word sentences?’ The same to you, Nick.”
“All right,” he drawled, giving her a level stare. “I have no intention of applying for a divorce. If you decide to do so, that is your business.”
As if it didn’t affect him in any way, she thought resentfully. But then, that had been the problem with their marriage, too. He seemed totally unaffected by it. Except in the bedroom.
She immediately shut down those thoughts. “More tea?” she offered, since she didn’t know what else to say.
“No, I don’t want any more damn tea!”
“Then perhaps we’d better talk about how we’re going to get out of here. It’s almost three o’clock. Can you get the helicopter to come back for us?”
“I can try,” he said, and rose from the table.
Try? The great Nicholas Avery never failed. He was the wonder of the financial world, a touchstone of success that had everyone crowding around him. If he wanted the helicopter to come back, it would come back. Even if he had to buy it.
“We’re out of luck,” he said seconds later, turning back to the table.
“What are you talking about? Are they too busy? Will they come later?”
“I have no idea. The phone is dead.”
Chapter Two
“What?” Andrea exclaimed. She jumped to her feet and hurried to the telephone.
When she lifted the receiver, Nick growled, “Can’t you even believe me about the stupid phone?”
Her cheeks flushed red, Andrea looked away from Nick as she hung up the receiver. They had never argued while they were married until the night before Andrea had decided to leave him. Then, as now, she’d expressed disbelief at something Nick had said.
“I just—it was a natural reaction,” she assured him and then hurriedly asked, “do you think they’ll fix it anytime soon?”
As if nature wanted to answer her question, a loud boom of thunder shook the house.
Nick
