Muttering a greeting, Desmond gave Nick an ugly look and stalked away.
“What did I just interrupt?” Alison let go of her sons’ hands.
For a moment Nick thought his sister had spotted that instant of electric intensity between him and Candace. How could he explain something he didn’t understand himself?
Then Alison grabbed her younger son as he drifted away. “Don’t you disappear again. Your dad is coming any minute.” She rolled her eyes as both boys grumbled and she shot Candace an apologetic smile. “They’re little rogues.” Turning to Nick, she asked, “Now, what’s Desmond doing here?”
Relief filled Nick. Alison’s sharp eyes had missed that moment of secret connection he’d shared with Candace. “I suspect he’s responsible for much of the misery you and Richard are experiencing at present.”
“But why?” asked Alison.
From the corner of his eye Nick caught the flicker of shock on Candace’s face. “He wants to hurt me—and hurting you is a very good way of accomplishing that.”
“You know what?” Alison stuck her hands on her hips. “I’m going to drum up support to have that jerk be the one to have to kiss Princess Piggy today. I’m going to get a jar with Desmond’s name in big bold black letters started.”
Alison’s vehemence was enough to assure Nick that today Desmond would be the one kissing the pig.
“Don’t do anything foolish,” he warned. “We’re going to win this battle against Desmond.” Then, turning to Candace, he said ruefully, “Sorry we’re dragging you into something you don’t deserve to be part of. But take note that my sister may be the most dangerous woman in the whole world.”
Then he realized that was totally true. It had been Alison who had engineered his date with Candace tonight—and, given the connection that was growing between them, that was going to be a truly risky occasion.
Eleven
The restaurant Nick chose for dinner was located in Auckland’s highly fashionable Viaduct Basin.
A valet had taken the Ferrari away to park it. And, despite the restaurant’s being heavily booked, the manager had found them a table on the edge of the terrace outside, overlooking the water where the reflection of the evening sun shimmered in shades of rose, orange and gold between berthed luxury yachts.
The beauty of the scene tugged at Candace’s heart. “This is glorious.”
“Isn’t it?”
Nick pulled his chair up around so that he could sit beside her and they both could look out over the water. Instantly, Candace’s senses started to sing with subtle tension. He was so big, so overpowering in a black long-sleeved shirt and black trousers. To distract herself from the effect he was having on her, she smoothed the simple ivory cotton sundress that was the only thing in her wardrobe remotely suitable for tonight’s outing.
“Bertha will be pleased that I’ve taken her advice,” said Nick leaning toward her. “Go enjoy yourselves. That might as well have been her and Henry’s life motto.”
Conscious of Nick’s shoulder only inches from her own, Candace murmured, “It sounds like they were happy together—they had each other.”
“Yes, they have each other.”
Nick shifted, stretching his legs out, and Candace couldn’t help but notice the way the fabric of his dark trousers rippled as his thigh muscles bunched. She looked away quickly, feeling her cheeks warm. At least with Nick sitting next to her, thankfully he wouldn’t notice.
He gave a contented sigh. “This is the life. From now on, I’m going to listen more to Bertha. I haven’t done enough enjoying—or living—in the past dozen years.”
“In those years you built up a successful business, married a woman who loved you, fathered a baby. Isn’t that life?”
Nick didn’t answer. Instead, after a long pause, he slung his arm around the back of her chair, and said, “So what do you do to enjoy yourself?”
Now it was her turn to fall silent.
“My sister told me that you’d recently come back from traveling abroad when she met you at the hospital.”
There was a certain irony that she’d been caught in a lie by his sister. The convenient catchphrase to explain away the months of absence while her pregnancy came to term. Now that easy fiction had come back to haunt her.
“I wasn’t traveling,” she said at last. To her relief, just then a waitress arrived with pen and pad to take their orders. Nick’s hand slid off the chair back, and rested on Candace’s shoulder. She was very conscious of the warm weight against her skin. The shoestring shoulder strap of the ivory sundress offered no protection from his touch as his fingers played idly, brushing against her, causing shivers of desire to ripple.