LITMIR.BIZ

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“I really am.”

      Deidre admitted to herself that Nick had known her guard would be breached by the gift of the Christmas tree. She should have been alarmed by that knowledge. But it was difficult to think of him as her enemy as they sat on the couch, admiring the pretty, glowing tree they’d decorated together while snow fell outside the window. A big band rendition of “Winter Wonderland” played on the radio and the fire kept the room toasty.

      Her respect for him grew as she drew him out about his work at DuBois Enterprises. Lincoln had informed her that Nick was a brilliant business leader—instinctively knowing when to strike aggressively, but also understanding when caution and restraint were required. Nick clearly considered himself a servant to the larger cause of a healthy, vibrant business.

      The truth was, she was having a nicer time than she’d experienced in years spending the evening with Nick. He could potentially turn on her tomorrow. She would fight him if he tried to contest the will on the grounds that she’d coerced Lincoln. She didn’t want to run DuBois Enterprises, but she refused to have Nick sully the fact that Lincoln had believed heart and soul she was his child. Lincoln’s revised will was tangible proof of that. She couldn’t let Nick take that from her.

      She wouldn’t.

      Maybe she was being foolish by not fighting him tonight. Maybe she was being weak. But maybe she just really needed a nice evening with an intelligent, attractive, sexy man.

      Even if that man was Nick Malone.

      She asked him about the acquisition deal he’d mentioned on the first night he’d come to Harbor Town. He filled her in on the details. The owner of a media company called Vivicor, Inc., had been toying with the idea of selling to DuBois for months now. Nick liked the company’s price and earning potential and wanted to expand DuBois Enterprises’s market share in media. He’d been wooing the owner for close to a year. However, Vivicor was a family-owned company and the president was wavering. Just after Lincoln had died, Nick had received a call from the owner that he was ready to sell on the original terms.

      “I’d like to strike while the iron is hot. The owner has been known to stall in the past,” Nick explained as he held up the carton of lemon chicken, offering her more. Deidre shook her head. They’d ordered Chinese and talked almost nonstop as they ate, both of them avoiding potentially volatile topics like Lincoln’s will or the genetic testing. Deidre thought Nick would pursue the topic of acquiring Vivicor, Inc., angling for her agreement to complete the deal, but to her surprise, he changed the subject.

      Who knew? Deidre wondered as she watched Nick spoon the last of the lemon chicken onto his plate. Maybe Nick had needed a truce and a nice evening as much as she had.

      “Did you ever do what Lincoln requested?” she asked a few minutes later as she sank back into the couch and brought her feet up next to her. “Did you ever reflect on what it was you work so hard for, day in and day out?” she clarified when he arched his brows at her. He gave her a sidelong glance as he chewed. She enjoyed observing the movement of his strong jaw.

      “I’ve reflected,” he said finally, wiping his mouth with a napkin and setting his plate on the table.

      “And? Any grand discoveries?”

      “No. Not really,” he admitted, leaning back after he took a swig of ice water. “I was different than Linc in that way. The work has always been reason and reward enough for me. It was Linc who was worried he’d built up his empire for nothing, that it was a hollow victory. ‘What’s it all for?’ he’d ask me every once in a while.”

      “Was he unhappy?” Deidre asked in a hushed tone.

      He met her gaze. “No. I would say he lived a happy, fulfilled life. But everyone has a sore point. For Linc, it was that he’d never had a family with whom he could share all that he had to give.”

      Deidre studied her thighs, blinking to soothe the sudden burn in her eyes. Oh, no. She really wished these tears would be over and done with.

      Her breath caught when she felt Nick touch the juncture between her neck and shoulders. His long fingers combed through her hair. He didn’t speak, but she knew he’d noticed her emotional upsurge. She felt like she needed to explain.

      “It’s just … it’s hard, knowing he wanted a family so much and didn’t know he had one all along.”

      Didn’t know he had me.

      The thought of both Linc and her having similar longings while separated by half of the world, both ignorant of each other’s existence, made grief spike through her. They’d found each other, but for such a brief time. Now he was gone forever.

      She stared at the flames and muffled a sob. A hot, vivid flash of anger at her mother mingled with her sadness. Her wretchedness was so complete in that moment, she didn’t protest when she felt Nick’s arms surround her. She managed to stifle the sound of her misery, but she couldn’t disguise the tremors that racked her body. Nick didn’t comment, just absorbed her sadness, his body seeming to cushion the impact of her grief.

      She realized she’d never really wept since Lincoln died. Nick cradled her waist and encouraged her to rest the back of her head on his chest. He ran his hand along her shoulder and upper arm. For several minutes, she cried silently while she stared at the fire.

      Nick closed his hand over her shoulder muscle and rubbed it. She felt his heat through the tiny holes of her sweater. She held her breath. Awareness of him, of his closeness, of his hard, male body made her misery fade. His hand stilled, as if he’d recognized the alteration in her mood at the same moment she had.

      She stood abruptly from the couch and grabbed a napkin from the table. She wiped off her cheeks and walked toward the mantel. How crazy could she be, going to mush like that in front of a man who doubted she was Lincoln’s daughter, who doubted her morals and her character?

      “Surely Lincoln didn’t grieve that much over not having a family,” she said flatly as she leaned down toward the flames, her back to Nick. “He had you, after all.”

      “I worked for him, Deidre.”

      “He loved you like a son,” she insisted. “Everyone says so. He positively glowed with pride every time he spoke of you. Why can’t you admit you thought of him like a father?”

      When he didn’t speak, she twisted her chin over her shoulder, feeling regretful at her outburst. Had she sounded bitter just then? She’d accused him last night of being envious of her relationship with Lincoln, but perhaps she was the one who was jealous of Nick’s lifelong association with Lincoln. She didn’t know what to think when she saw the way he studied her, his face impassive, his eyes hooded.

      “I won’t admit it, because it’s not true. I never expected Lincoln to treat me as his son. I worked my ass off for him—as a stable boy, as the foreman of his ranch, as an advertising executive, as a new global unit president and finally as his CEO.”

      “I didn’t mean you’d taken advantage of your relationship with him,” she said, caught off guard.

      “Other people thought so, when I was younger,” he stated bluntly. “Maybe that’s why I was so intent on making sure my work spoke for itself. I never wanted to give anyone the slightest reason to suspect that I’d used Linc. My record stands on its own.”

      Deidre blushed. She hadn’t realized it was such a sensitive topic for him. Of course, what he’d said made complete sense. There would always be those who thought the worst of a person’s motives.

      “When I told you last night that the officers of DuBois Enterprises had been known to think Linc was foolish for putting so much trust in another human being,” Nick continued, “I was talking about myself. There was loads of backbiting and plenty of rumors about Linc’s gullibility when I first started working for him and rising in the ranks.”

      She stared at him, her lips parted in amazement.

      “Maybe you’re thinking it’s pretty damn hypocritical

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