Her thoughtful expression gave no clue as to whether she believed him.
“Anyway, it’s a moot point now. Dad’s going to announce it next week. You’re looking at the new managing director of Thorne Enterprises.”
She smiled faintly, “Congrats.”
Nick hadn’t expected much enthusiasm under the circumstances, but still, he squeezed her fingers and ducked his head to peer into her eyes quizzically. “Jordan, I’m so sorry about yesterday, and the lack of communication. I never meant to hurt you.”
She looked down at their joined hands. “I can’t remember ever feeling so—” her shoulders rose and fell “—low.”
“Hormones, I suppose,” he said, thinking of the pregnancy. “This puts everything in a new light. Jordan,” he said, reaching out to smooth a rogue strand of hair behind her ears. “I want our baby to be born legitimate, not like me. I want us to make a good home for him or her, a great family home…why are you crying?”
Tears began to slide down her face, and his heart did an ominous slide in his chest.
“I should never have said anything,” she blurted. “Not until I was sure, but I’ve been sick, and the home test was positive—twice—and you got me so riled…” She tugged her hands away from his and covered her face.
He sat there stupidly, wondering what she meant, helpless in the face of her distress.
“I’m not pregnant, Nick,” she said sadly from behind her hands. “I never was.”
Jordan couldn’t look at him, but felt his eyes on her. The sadness pressed down, making her neck ache. “Mom took me to a specialist yesterday for a blood test, and it came back negative.” A shuddering sigh caught her unawares and she pressed the pillow into her stomach. “I’m supposed to go back in a couple of days for anther test, but I probably won’t bother since I got my period in the night.”
“But you were sick.”
She shrugged, still not looking at him. “Nerves. Stress. A bug…”
They sat there for a minute in silence. She didn’t want to see his relief. In reality, she should be relieved herself, having no desire to raise a baby on her own. But all she felt was a dragging grief, as if someone close had died and nothing would ever be the same again.
Nick cleared his throat. “No baby,” he said, as if he still couldn’t believe it. She braved a look at his face. Incredibly, he looked dazed and terribly disappointed.
Disappointed? He was off the hook. “You must be relieved.”
She immediately wished the words back when he swallowed and looked away. “Relieved?” His eyes tracked slowly around each wall of the big room, an excruciatingly slow inspection, before finally coming full circle to her face again. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “It’s amazing how quickly I got used to the idea, even embraced the idea, of having a baby with you.”
That was unexpected, although finding out recently that he wasn’t who he thought he was probably had something to do with it. While she mulled that over, Nick reached out and lifted her chin, his eyes full of concern.
“How do you feel about it?”
“Sad,” she whispered. She’d already told him she loved him. She didn’t have to hide anything now. “It was something of you, and the most worthwhile and important part of me.” She shrugged again. “So I thought, for a few hours, anyway.”
Nick slid his hands up her arms and around her back to draw her close. It was a relief to hide her face in his chest, to rest against all that clean warmth and solid support. She closed her eyes.
“There’ll be other babies,” Nick muttered into her hair. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
She smiled gently, remembering. “Your luxury.” But she knew she couldn’t go back to what they were. Everything had changed. She wanted to be worth something now. “Our Fridays are in the past,” she said firmly, as if to convince herself. Would she ever feel the same burning need for anyone else? Perhaps companionship and common goals might be a safer gamble next time.
“I agree.” His arms tightened around her. “But I still want to marry you.”
Jordan snuggled in close, mentally saying goodbye to their Friday afternoons. Nick’s words took an age to filter into her woolly brain. Lack of sleep, of food, of anything resembling sunshine since their weekend away on the boat had withered her comprehension.
Had he just said he wanted to marry her?
She leaned back a little, squinting over the crisp collar and blue silk tie, past the strong, square chin and into his piercing eyes. Her heart gave a healthy kick.
No trace of amusement sullied Nick’s serious contemplation of her. Instead, he reached down and curled his fingers around her hand, squeezing gently. “I love you, Jordan, and I still want to marry you, baby or not.”
Her eyes filled, and a lump the size of Gibraltar invaded her throat. She shook her head impatiently. Why cry when she’d just heard the words she wanted to hear more than anything in the world? When she lay encircled in the arms of the man she loved more than anything in the world? When the sincerity and love shone from his eyes, soothing the hurt of the past few days, giving her hope for the future? “Really?” she asked, aware of how inadequate the question was. But her mind hadn’t yet cleared for takeoff.
Nick laced their fingers together and raised her hand to his mouth. “Really,” he murmured. “I really love you, Jordan.”
She shivered—delayed reaction. She could listen to those words all day.
“It was inevitable,” he continued, “once I got to know you, saw how hard you tried, how generous and giving you were. So sexy, you should be illegal.” He kissed her knuckles one by one. “You accepted me, although I gave you little enough. And I hate that it took me so long, and all this upset, to realize how I feel.”
A bit, fat tear escaped and slid slowly down her cheek. “Oh, Nick, I love you so much, it hurts.”
“Perhaps this will ease your pain.” He wrapped her up in his arms and bent his head to kiss her. At the first touch of his lips on hers, she tensed, waiting for the irresistible thrill that never failed to suck the breath from her lungs and sent her heart galloping. But this was a healing kiss, a kiss to say sorry, a tender, nourishing lifeline that she never wanted to let go of. She relaxed into contentment, trying to burrow closer, loving his clean, warm scent and the strength of his arms around her.
“There is still,” he told her a minute later, when he’d stopped kissing her into next week, “the matter of how your father is going to take this.”
She blinked slowly, still dazed by that kiss. “Mom likes you. She’s an amazing woman, my mother.” Jordan couldn’t quite believe Elanor had spied on her. “I’m only starting to realize how amazing—and exactly who wears the pants around here.” She smiled up into Nick’s eyes, feeling quite light-headed with happiness. Her stomach rumbled. It could be hunger. “What about your father?”
“He’ll do anything to stay in my good books at the moment,” he said, planting a kiss on each corner of her mouth. “I told him I was crazy about the devil’s daughter. He said bring the little hussy to his retirement party next week.”
“Will you protect me?” Her smile faded into pensiveness. “Wouldn’t it be great if they could be friends one day?”
“They started that way,” Nick said, nibbling his way around her jawline to her earlobe. “You’d be surprised at the impact a grandkid or two might have. It’s our duty to work on improving relations between the two most stubborn old goats in New Zealand.” He leaned back, his hands sliding from around her back to rest at the tops of her arms, holding her up. “To that end, Jordan Lake, would you marry me in the not-too-distant future? Any Friday will do.”
Jordan caged his face with both hands, unable to stop a huge smile stretching her mouth wide. “Friday works for me.” She leaned in and they touched foreheads, and stayed like that, smiling at each other, basking in a love that was sure to survive.
“Me, too,” Nick murmured. “As long as I can have you every day in between.”
Epilogue
The retirement party stepped up a notch once the formalities were dispensed with. It took Nick an age to get to the bar since everyone wanted to congratulate the new managing director along the way. He looked about for Jordan, thinking he’d barely seen her since the speeches. Randall had taken her under his wing and seemed determined to introduce her to every one of his cronies. With her tucked closely into his side, the old man practically dwarfed her slender form, in her striking, siren-red cocktail dress. He paraded her about proudly, as if she were his escort for the evening.
“Scotch, rocks,” Nick said to the barman, and helped himself to an hors d’oeuvre from the platter on the bar. Jasmine had done an amazing job of organizing the re-tirement-cum-birthday-cum-promotion party on such short notice. Stunning floral arrangements and clusters of cheery balloons lifted the small former ballroom at the top of the Thorne building into an elegant venue, far removed from its normal function as a conference facility. The food and drink were top-notch, and the two hundred guests seemed to be enjoying themselves. Nick reminded himself to give his trusted personal assistant a decent bonus for her efforts.