“Wait a minute. I didn’t say no, I said I wasn’t sure.” But the idea was beginning to grow on her and she wasn’t about to play the poor little invalid and know that because of her condition, family traditions and social gatherings were being sacrificed. Already her daughter thought she was nuts. Besides, she needed to meet the people who were her friends. “Okay,” she finally said, nodding to herself. “I’ll do it.”
Eugenia opened her mouth as if to protest, then sat down in her chair again.
Was there a bit of trepidation in Alex’s smile? Or was it just her imagination working overtime? “Wonderful,” he said with a trace of sarcasm.
Marla second-guessed herself. Maybe she was being rash. Suddenly she felt ill.
“Now,” Alex said, “if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting downtown. Drinks at the Marriott. Japanese businessmen interested in investing. This could be the shot in the arm we need.” He walked around the table and planted a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “You’ll stick around a while, won’t you, Nick? Entertain the women?”
Nick seemed uncomfortable but lifted a shoulder in halfhearted agreement. “For a while.”
“Thanks.” Obviously relieved, Alex checked his watch and strode out of the room.
“I don’t need entertaining,” Marla clarified as she pushed her chair out and stood.
“Well, I do.” Eugenia arched a commanding eyebrow.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’d better go up to see if Cissy’s all right.”
“She’s just being a teenager,” Eugenia said.
“I think she needs to talk to me.” Not only did she want to straighten things out with her daughter, but she needed to get away from her mother-in-law and Nick—the outlaw, the man who made her question her marriage, her emotions, her convictions. She should avoid him like the plague, for she sensed, deep in the darkest parts of her soul, that he was a temptation she couldn’t resist. She didn’t need the undercurrents of emotion she caught in his glance, didn’t want to speculate what it felt like to kiss him or make love to him or . . . She cleared her throat. “And then I think I’ll rest.”
“Are you certain you don’t want a little tea or coffee?”
“I’m sure,” she said firmly.
“Then Nick will be glad to help you upstairs, won’t you dear?” Eugenia asked, and Marla had to press her lips together not to argue.
Nick sent his mother a guarded look. “Why not?”
“Afterwards come down and have coffee with me,” Eugenia invited. “I’m sure the cook can rustle up some cobbler or cheesecake or something.”
“Coffee’ll do,” he said, but walked with Marla to the elevator. Her head began to ache again, her stomach was uneasy and it was all she could do not to sag against the elevator car’s rail.
As the door closed, Nick pushed the button for the third floor then leaned against the side of the car. Again they were alone. In a cramped, far too intimate space. She tried not to notice his rugged good looks and irreverent damnably sexy attitude. He was tougher than Alex, perhaps more sinister. He wore his I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude as if it were a badge. And, damn it, it intrigued her. While her husband was polished and Ivy-league educated, a successful businessman who entertained clients from all over the world, she guessed Nick was a loner, a man who could do just as well in a crowd or by himself. “Why’re you here?” she asked as they reached the third floor. “I mean . . . not here in the house, but here in San Francisco.”
“I thought you knew. Alex thinks the corporation needs some help.” His jaw slid to one side. “At least that’s what he says.”
“But you don’t believe him?” she asked as she walked into the hall surrounding the staircase. Music blared from behind the closed door to Cissy’s room, and when she tapped and stuck her head inside, the girl, a telephone receiver to one ear, scowled.
“What do you want?” Cissy demanded.
“To talk.”
The girl bit her lip. Looked as if she wanted to scurry into a corner and hide. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she managed a bored expression. “Can it be later? I’ve got homework.”
Marla glanced at the phone and stereo. There wasn’t a book in sight. But this wasn’t the time to start nagging. Not when there were more important issues between them. She met the challenge in her daughter’s rebellious gaze. “Okay. When?”
“I don’t know.” Cissy lifted a shoulder.
“But you’ll let me know.”
“Yeah,” she said shortly, adjusting the phone to her ear. “Mom, puhleez . . .”
“Okay, okay. Tomorrow,” Marla said, then closed the door and sighed. Nick was standing near enough to touch her. “I guess I’m going to have to sharpen my parenting skills.”
“Is that possible?” Nick asked.