Unexpectedly His(56)

Marianne hadn’t seemed like a con artist, a woman who’d play the game for what she wanted and take off. She’d seemed vulnerable and genuine and sincere.

Hell, he’d thought he loved her.#p#分页标题#e#

The black and white glow from the television illuminated the emptiness of the room. Quiet seeped around him. He missed the feeling that came with having her here. Missed the way she turned off every light in the place except the one she was using. The way she’d check on her damn Prius every day. The late-night movies and her insomnia. Missed the way her hips swayed and the way her eyes lit up at the sight of flowers. Missed taking her face in his hands and kissing her under the light of the city stars. The cardigans, the glasses…everything.

Son of a bitch. He didn’t simply think he loved her. He did love her. Nick chuckled into the semi-darkness. He was in love with his fake fiancée. Strike that: ex-fake-fiancée. The knowledge came like a gavel slamming down on his heart, creating a pain so sharp that he fell deeper into the sectional wondering what had happened.

Nick knew from experience that not everybody got a shot at the real deal, and he wasn’t about to waste his. As unlikely as it seemed, he was in love with sweet, sexy Marianne McBride. Now, there was only one question left. What was he going to do about it?

…

Early the following morning, having driven the one hundred miles from Manhattan to East Hampton on three hours of sleep, Nick made the hard left past the sea grass, drove the Spider up the pebbled driveway, and parked under the cypress tree next to the house. Sometime last night, he’d decided to walk away from the firm, come here to set the legal record straight, and let the chips of his career fall where they may.

For better or worse, he loved Marianne in a way he’d never believed possible—with his entire heart—and he refused to accept that he was nothing more than a party date to her. If she didn’t intend to explain her quick departure from his condo, then Nick needed to figure out what was going on and find a way to bring her back home. To his home. Where he wanted her. Where she belonged. The Hamptons seemed as good a place to start as any.

“Come on up, Nick.” John McBride’s deep, welcoming voice called out from the upper deck of the oceanfront house. Resting back in an Adirondack chair, he waved him toward a hidden set of stairs at the end of the portico. “I’ve been waiting since you called.”

Nick took the steps two at a time, reaching the deck in a few seconds. He was here to set the record straight about Marianne’s ex, to do right by her father, and his gut told him there was no time to waste. “Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice, Mr. McBride.”

“Call me John—we’re about to become family,” he said with a smile. “Besides, I should be thanking you for driving all the way out here given that my range of motion is being curtailed for the short-term.” His smile turned into a smirk, and he lifted the leg of his khaki pants to reveal the ankle bracelet. “Coffee?” he asked, indicating the insulated white pot on a nearby glass table.

Nick accepted, grateful for the caffeine, but unsure if he was impressed or concerned by the man’s easy acceptance of his house arrest. He took hold of the stoneware mug being pressed into his hands and sat on the edge of a second slatted chair. “John, if it works for you, I’ll cut straight to the chase. A portfolio crossed my desk yesterday that creates a bit of an issue for me.”

“You’re concerned about the effect of my conviction on your career.”

“No,” Nick assured him quickly, his hands cutting into the air between them. “If I’m being honest, the issue had crossed my mind, but no, that’s not why I’m here.”

The older man’s face settled into an inquiring, serious expression so reminiscent of his daughter’s that Nick had to smile. “Long drive for a cup of coffee.”#p#分页标题#e#

Nick’s tired half smile acknowledged the statement. “Well, sir, the portfolio in question belongs to Jason Ward.”

The man nodded astutely. “I see.”

“He wanted to invest in a fund, so I reviewed his financials, and it looks to me like he made some well-timed profits, the kind that draw the attention of the SEC—am I in the ballpark here? Or am I spinning my wheels?”

John pulled off his readers and raised his eyebrows. “My wife was right about you. You are a smart one.” He tossed his glasses next to a discarded newspaper on the table. “I didn’t know they were illegal—not at first.”