“The friend in Queens with the new baby?”
“Yeah. Tasha was also with me when I almost crashed into you in the lobby elevator.”
Nick’s brows lift. “Was she? Funny, I don’t recall anyone else once I saw you.”
It’s blatant flattery, but, coming from him, I’m not entirely immune. I don’t even try to hold back my smile. “Tasha thought you were arrogant. She didn’t want to like you, but I think you may have won her over with the bouquet you sent for Zoe’s baptism several weeks ago.”
“Actually, I was aiming to win over a different woman that day.” He finishes off his wine and sets the glass down on the table. “So what other internet highlights did Tasha share with you about me?”
I shrug. “Only that you’re very successful. And that you’re known for how fiercely you guard your privacy.”
“Dominic Baine, ‘the shadow mogul,’” he says, sounding vaguely amused. But I know him too well to be fooled by his casual dismissal. He’s irritated by his public reputation. He’s defensive. “If there’s one thing the press can’t stand, it’s someone who refuses to dance in their spotlight. Then they start looking for weaknesses, dents in the armor. They start digging for secrets.”
“Will they find any?”
The question blurts out of me before I can stop it. Nick’s gaze sharpens on me, his jaw hardening. I want to reel my words back in, but they hang between us like a challenge. I know he feels so too. I can sense the flare of displeasure in him as he leans forward, placing his elbows on the table as he holds me in his hard stare. Against my will, my gaze drops to the numerous jagged scars that slash across Nick’s right arm and hand.
“Everyone has secrets, Avery. If you don’t want them to rise up again, you have to be careful to remember where you bury the bodies.”
Although he says it reflectively, with an edge that makes me wary to push him, I realize he could just as easily be speaking about me. I feel my face drain of color under his scrutiny, a jolt of pure panic rushing through me. Does he know? Can he possibly have any idea about my past?
No, he can’t be. I’m certain of it.
Because I was a minor, there was never any mention of my name after my stepfather’s death. There’s nothing to link me to those news stories, then or now. It’s one of the many reasons I’m thankful to have kept my daddy’s last name, even when Martin Coyle first married my mother and pressed her to let him formally adopt me.
My skin crawls at the memory, and I can’t suppress the shiver that sweeps over me. I know where the bodies of my secrets are buried, but no matter how far I’ve run from them, they still hold me in their icy grasp.
Nick’s touch draws me back to the present, his fingers tender as he covers my hand with his. He rises to his feet now, his expression softened. “We’re done here. Stand up, baby, and come with me.”
When I hesitate, uncertain, he holds out his hand in silent demand. As soon as I’m standing, he gently turns me around and begins unfastening my dress.
“Nick, what are you—”
“You won’t need this anymore tonight.” He makes quick work of it, leaving me standing in just my bra and panties. “Now, come with me.”
Chapter 31
“Nick, where are we going?”
He doesn’t answer, just wraps his fingers around mine and leads me away from the table. I expect him to take me into the cabin. Instead he steps onto the gunwale and grabs hold of a line with his free hand.
“One hand for me and one for the boat,” he tells me as he helps me up beside him. “Watch your step. The salt spray can make the deck slippery.”
Together under the moonlight, barefoot, we make our way to the bow. Nick parks me on the broad wooden deck, then walks over to one of the hatches and retrieves a pair of long, folded cushions. He lays them out next to each other beneath the stowed mainsail.
“Right here,” he says, indicating the cushion beside him as he sits on the other one.
As soon as I sink down next to him, he pivots toward me and his mouth covers mine. His tongue delves inside in a possessive kiss that scatters all of my thoughts, even the most troubling ones. I sigh as his lips draw back from mine, all of my tension flowing away like the tide.
“Better?” he asks as if he knows I needed the change of scenery as much as I needed his mouth on me.
I gaze at him in a state of sensual intoxication. “Much better. I’ve been waiting for you to do that all night.”
Even in the darkness, I can see the satisfied curve of his smile. “Good things come to those who wait.”