“It’s not a charity thing, then?” she asked hopefully.
He shook his head. “No. I’d like to meet him.”
Her smile returned. “Thank you.” She rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You’re a very sweet man, Andrew Tyler.”
He snagged her around the waist, pulling her closer. “I’m not sure anyone’s ever said those words to me before,” he murmured.
She looped her arms around his neck. “Well, I’ve said them. And they’re true.”
He didn’t quite know what to say. But he knew exactly what to do. He covered her mouth with his.
She murmured her pleasure and melted into the embrace.
THEY WENT to his club for dinner Sunday evening. It was Nicole’s idea, in a way. She’d pointed out that she’d made most of the decisions concerning their entertainment to that point, and she wanted to spend the evening the way he would have if she hadn’t been there. It was her way of getting to know him better, she’d added.
Andrew often dined at the club when Martha took an evening off from cooking. He wore chinos and a sweater, and Nicole wore a simple sweater-and-slacks set that somehow managed to be casual and elegant at the same time.
Again that evening, Andrew was amazed at how easily she seemed to fit into any situation. His acquaintances, of course, greeted him politely when he entered, which didn’t surprise him. What did surprise him was the warmth with which they greeted Nicole. By name. And they’d only met her once, at the New Year’s Eve bash.
Obviously she’d made a favorable impression that evening, and not just with Andrew.
He was aware of the speculative glances turned their way. The single men eyed Nicole and wondered how long Andrew would manage to hold on to her. The matrons whispered predictions of either a spectacular wedding or an equally spectacular breakup. The few catty others asserted that she must be after his money, since she couldn’t possibly be interested in his personality.
He was all too familiar with the gossip patterns of his set. He’d heard it all before, though he’d consistently refused to participate.
Looking across the small table at Nicole, he thought rather wistfully that she looked as at ease in his world as she had in her own. He wanted very badly to believe that was a good sign. He could h
ardly imagine his world without her now.
Too fast. Too much, the nagging voice of reason whispered through his head.
He pushed it aside, choosing instead to concentrate on Nicole’s musical laughter as she told him an amusing anecdote about something a small child had said in her church that morning.
NICKY SPENT the evening watching Andrew with his peers. Looking for any sign of intimacy among them. Finding none.
Again she had the impression that he was a solitary man in the middle of a large, rather obsequious crowd. He had respect, admiration, more than a little envy, but wasn’t there anyone who truly loved him?
His parents seemed to love the image that their son projected—strong, smart, successful. But did they ever see or recognize the bleak loneliness hidden deep in his beautiful blue eyes? The wistfulness with which he sometimes gazed at the bustling, laughing, demonstrative world around him?
Would he ever allow anyone—no, would he ever allow her—to know him well enough to really love him?
There was so much about him to admire and respect. But she couldn’t help worrying that her imprudent tumble into love was only going to lead to heartache. She knew herself too well to believe that she’d be satisfied only with physical intimacy from the man she loved. She needed so much more.
Would Andrew ever be able to give it?
She hoped her bright smile hid her worries. She found it encouraging when she coaxed a small grin out of him in return. If nothing else, she thought pensively, she could give him this. A few evenings of fun to balance the long hours of hard work. Was that all he wanted from her—or did he, like herself, want more?
If she had any psychic abilities, she would use them now, she thought with a touch of forced whimsy. It would be nice to be offered even a brief glimpse into the mind and heart of Andrew Colton Tyler III.
THERE WAS A STRANGE vehicle in Andrew’s driveway when he returned from work Monday evening. And “strange” was the operative word, he decided, frowning at the battered van that seemed to be made up mostly of mismatched junkyard parts.
Buffy rushed to meet him when he entered the front door, yipping excitedly and leaping straight into the air, her feathery tail frantically beating the air. Andrew thought of all the people who talked about what a joy it was to have a pet to greet them when they arrived home.
“They’re all nuts,” he muttered, fending off the hyperactive little mutt.
“Settle down, will ya?” he grumbled, giving the dog a brisk pat to calm it. “Man, you’d think you haven’t seen a human in weeks.”
The dog only wagged its tail harder and licked his hand.