“It sounds as though he’s enjoying his retirement years.”
“I suppose,” Andrew agreed vaguely, though he’d
never quite understood his father’s decision to retire. Andrew couldn’t imagine leaving the challenge of business behind at any age to pursue nothing more constructive or consequential than clubbing a little ball into a hole in the ground. Or chasing after a pretty face.
“Maybe he looked at his father’s latter years and decided he wanted more,” Nicole suggested.
Andrew shrugged. “I don’t know. He and I have never really talked about it.”
“Why not?”
“I...we just don’t usually talk about things like that,” Andrew answered lamely. For the past decade or more, his conversations with his father had all centered around the business. Personal conversation was limited pretty much to polite generalities. Andrew wasn’t particularly happy with the rather cool relationship he had with his father, but he’d never considered making any move to change it.
“What about your mother? She seems like the demonstrative type,” Nicole observed, toying absently with a strawberry on her plate.
Andrew almost winced. “Mother is more emotional than the Tylers,” he agreed, thinking of his mother’s frequent, vociferous condemnations of his father since the divorce five years ago.
“I bet she dotes on you, her only child.”
Andrew had to think about Nicole’s words. He’d never considered that his mother “doted” on him. She was fond of him, certainly, and quite proud of him. She’d cared for him, instructed him, advised him, chided him, bragged about him—but he wasn’t entirely convinced that she really knew him. Not his thoughts or his feelings, his hopes or dreams. Maybe it was because he had never been able to verbalize those things—not even to himself, usually.
He’d been told that he was not a man other people could feel close to. Not even his parents, apparently. Strange how he’d never really thought about that—until Nicole had caused him to view himself through her eyes.
He wondered how long it would be before she, too, found him too detached and reserved to be interesting.
For the first time he found himself wishing he were a different sort of man. Because of Nicole.
“You’re staring at me again,” she said gently, making him aware of how long he’d been gazing across the table.
“I can’t seem to help that,” he admitted. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
“Is that good or bad?” she asked teasingly.
He answered with total candor. “I’m not sure.” Again he found his feelings about her hovering between fascination and alarm.
She blinked. “Well, that’s honest enough.”
“I’m always honest,” he murmured.
She laughed. “Yes. I’m sure you are.”
Was she laughing at him again, or sharing a joke with him? He wished he knew. He wished he were the type to make her laugh aloud at something witty or outrageous that he’d said. He wished...
“Finish your dinner, Andrew,” Nicole said, reaching across the table to tap the edge of his plate. “I spotted half a pecan pie in the refrigerator and I’m ready to dive into it. If you don’t hurry, there won’t be any left for you.”
His mouth quirked upward. “I’ve always admired a woman of strong appetites,” he murmured as she crossed the room.
She looked around the edge of the refrigerator door, her smile decidedly naughty. “Honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
He promptly lost all interest in food. It was all he could do to get through the next half hour or so without attacking her. When she’d had her fill of coffee and pecan pie, he stopped trying to resist her. And she cooperated fully.
In that aspect, at least, they were beginning to understand each other perfectly.
9
ON FRIDAY, Andrew went to his office as usual, though with the same atypical reluctance to leave home he’d felt the day before. And then he blew a good part of his morning sitting at his desk, staring into space and thinking about Nicole. Wondering if she’d be there when he got home that evening. Remembering the dismay he’d felt when he’d walked into his house the evening before and found that she wasn’t there.
He’d never felt this way about anyone before. It bothered him greatly. For one thing, he was aware of how irrational it seemed after knowing her such a short time. Did obsession really strike that quickly? And was this obsession—or something more common, but no less unsettling?