At this, Nick looked surprised, then he slowly raised his brow. “You were spying on me?”

  Lauren forbade herself to blush. “It was hard not to look over at the guy who kept outbidding everyone.” She stared into his hazel eyes. “Tell me, how many girlfriends do you have here tonight?”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

  Right. “Just friends with benefits?”

  He released a slow breath. “One woman I talked to is someone I dated for a little bit, but I told her I wasn’t available anymore.”

  “Oh? Why not?” Lauren knew she was outright flirting with Nick, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  “I’ve been preoccupied as of late.” His gaze dropped to her mouth again, and that did all kinds of crazy things to her pulse.

  “With what?” Had her voice dropped to a whisper?

  “Buying art.” He winked.

  Lauren swallowed and unfolded her arms. “Well, now you have yourself quite the collection.”

  He leaned close, close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath against her ear when he said, “Do you want to dance, Lauren Ambrose?”

  She didn’t move. “You’re kidding.”

  He drew back, his eyes appraising. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  No. Not at all. “I’m not interested in dancing.”

  “Why not?” he said, not moving back or giving her any space to think clearly. His scent, his presence, his voice, his intense gaze, all created a slow buzz that traveled through her body.

  “Because . . .”

  A single eyebrow arched as he waited for her to continue. Apparently she’d been rendered mute. His hand brushed hers, then his fingers curled around her fingers. “One dance. I think we owe it to ourselves to find out.”

  “Find out what?” she rasped, her voice unsteady.

  “Why I keep buying your paintings.”

  Her thoughts raced, her body felt numb, her feet and legs weightless. If she danced with Nick, she might find out for herself how real this thing was budding between them. Or maybe it wasn’t real at all.

  He hadn’t released her hand, and he kept a hold of it after she nodded. They walked back into the event room, where the auction had ended and several couples had taken to the dance floor. Others were socializing. Some preparing to leave.

  As they reached the dance floor, Lauren suddenly had the sense that Nick would be a good dancer. And she was right.

  She rested one hand lightly on his shoulder. The other hand was enfolded in his warm one. She was hyperaware of his hand resting at the top of her hip. He wasn’t holding her all that close yet, but his slow, casual movements as they danced had her pulse thumping.

  He was a natural, and she was not. It was hardly fair that this beautiful, successful man, who seemed to be working his way into her every sense, was also good at dancing.

  “You are dancing,” a woman’s voice cut into Lauren’s hazy thoughts.

  Nick turned his head. “I guess I changed my mind. Either that, or I couldn’t say no.”

  The woman was the same one Lauren had seen talking to Nick earlier. Her red dress was tight and emphasized her generous bosom. Her platinum-blond hair and glittering diamonds made no secret of her wealth.

  The woman laughed, then gazed at Lauren. “Is this her?” she asked Nick.

  “It is,” Nick said, squeezing Lauren’s hand as if he were trying to send her a message.

  “Hi, I’m Lauren,” she said.

  “Tammy,” the woman in red said. Then she frowned. “Lauren Ambrose, the artist?”

  It wasn’t often that people recognized her name, but her paintings had been auctioned off here.

  Tammy’s gaze cut to Nick. “What does your mother think?” She laughed, and it was a conspiratorial laugh. “Remember when you blew me off? Because your mother was hung up on you getting together with Chelsey? Someone she could use as her puppet. How did you get away with dating someone else?”

  Nick’s answering smile seemed forced. “Mind if we get back to our dance?”

  “Oh sure, sure,” Tammy said, patting Nick on the arm. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  When she left, Lauren was confused.

  “Who’s Chelsey?” she asked.

  “A family friend whom my mother thinks she has the right to match me with,” he said. “Both Chelsey and I agree that we’d never be a good match.”

  Lauren had no choice but to believe him. “But you dated Tammy?”

  Nick grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”

  “I mean . . . she’s pretty, but—”

  Nick moved his hand from her hip to her back, so that now she was pressed against him. She forgot what she was going to say. He lowered his head and spoke against her ear. “Let’s forget about Tammy and everything she said. I like this song.”

  Lauren hadn’t been paying attention to the specific songs, but the current one was nice. She closed her eyes as Nick released her hand and slipped it behind her back as well. So now both of her arms were looped about his neck as they moved together in a slow circle.

  It took her a moment to realize he was humming to the music. She wanted to laugh, but she was also kind of enjoying his humming too. She sighed into him, reveling in this moment, which couldn’t go on forever. Reality was waiting for her, and she knew as well as she knew anything, Nick was a very tempting man . . . but there was no future for them.

  When the song changed, Lauren drew away slightly. Nick met her gaze with a half-smile, one that told her she was on his mind. And that he was enjoying the dancing too.

  “What did she mean about your mom?” Lauren asked.

  “Ignore everything that Tammy said,” he answered.

  Lauren tilted her head. “You’re seriously not going to tell me?”

  His gaze traveled over her face. “My mom gets a little wound up when I date someone. Puts them through the full-court press. She’s scared off more than one person in my life.”

  “What did Tammy mean about your mom wanting a puppet?”

  Nick exhaled. “My mom’s co-owner of a trust my dad set up for me should something happen to me. When I marry, it will transfer to my wife, and my mother will be left with her annual salary. Which is no small thing, but right now, she has a lot more access to funds.”

  Lauren swallowed. “Oh, wow.”

  “Yeah, she can be a little intense,” he said. “I’m a little scared of her myself.”

  Lauren smiled. “Well, good thing I don’t have to worry about meeting her.”

  Nick moved his hands up her back. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because we’re not dating.”

  Nick’s hands continued their slow journey up her back. “We could change that.”

  Lauren heard what he’d said, but it took a moment for the words to register. “Don’t say things like that.”

  He drew back to meet her gaze. “Why not?”

  She grimaced. “You know why. You of all people know the truth.”

  They’d stopped dancing, although the music still swirled about them. “What if there was no curse, Lauren?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  His eyes were darker in the lighting on the dance floor. He must have shaved just before coming tonight, because his jaw looked smooth. And that quirk of his lips was becoming all too familiar.

  She moved her hands to the tops of his shoulders. “I guess we’ll never find out, will we?” Her hands continued down until they rested against his chest. “Thanks for the dance, but I need to get going. Big day tomorrow.”

  “Oh? Lots of stuff?”

  She couldn’t help her smile. “Exactly.”

  He seemed to want to say something else, but then changed his mind. He released his hold on her. “Can I walk you to your car?”

  She liked it better when his arms had been around her, but this was smarter. Much wiser. And she should really turn him down, because more time spent with Nicholas Matthews was becoming something she was starting to crave. It was better to keep her distance. “To the valet?”

  He shrugged. “Wherever you want me to take you.”

  She didn’t miss the flash of concern in his eyes. He’d been amazing about helping her through the Kevin fiasco. And truthfully, she was still nervous alone in her condo, for the simple fact that Kevin knew where she lived. Not that she’d admit it to Nick or anyone else. The protective order was in place, and she’d have to trust in that.

  She stepped away from him, and this time he didn’t try to take her hand. They wove through the milling people, and Nick was stopped several times, but he quickly waved people off. By the time they reached the lobby, Lauren was wondering if there was anyone Nick didn’t know. Plenty of the gazes had been on her, and she didn’t miss the interest and speculation.

  Lauren walked outside, with Nick close behind. While she waited for the valet to bring her car, Nick asked, “No contact from Kevin?”

  “No,” Lauren said. “Nothing since the last time you asked me this morning.”

  She sensed his smile even though she wasn’t looking at him. The valet had just turned into the circular driveway with her car.

  “It’s not like you’re very forthcoming with information,” he said in a low voice. “I think your record is a three-word text.”

  That made her look over at him. “Are you analyzing me?”

  He gave a small nod. “I’ve been analyzing you since before I even met you.”

  For some reason a rash of goose bumps rose on her arms.

  “And what are your findings?” she asked.

  The valet climbed out of her car, but her gaze was still focused on Nick.

  “Inconclusive as of now,” he said. “If you don’t like texting as a form of communication, what do you like?”

  “Well, I don’t usually answer the phone.”

  “So, in person then?”

  She gave a small shrug. “It depends.” She took the keys from the valet and handed over a couple of bills.

  He thanked her, and she turned to look at Nick again. “Thanks for coming and bidding on my art.”

  He’d slipped his hands in his pockets. “Any time.”

  The comment was off the cuff, but she sensed he meant it. Well, she couldn’t stand here all night, with the valet as their audience. So she told Nick good night and climbed into her car. As she drove away, she caught a glimpse of him, still standing in the same place, watching after her.

  “Have you even listened to a word I’ve said?” Nick’s mom asked.

  That caught his attention. “Of course,” he murmured.

  “Then what time will you be there?”

  Where? he wanted to ask, but he was pretty sure she’d be offended. Besides, she’d mentioned an email, so he’d pull it up and figure out which event his mother was talking about. She was forever throwing fundraising events, and when he told her about going to the Neighborhood Friends one last week, she’d been thrilled.

  He did a search on his mom’s name in his email. Restore the Old Mission Home in San Clemente read the title. Too close to fly and too inconvenient to drive.

  Besides, the event was Sunday night, and he had early morning conference calls on Monday, as in two in the morning.

  “I don’t think—” he began.

  “Don’t you dare back out on me, young man,” his mother cut in. “You said you’d support me, and I’m expecting it. Oh, and Chelsey will be there.”

  “Mom—”

  “I know what you’re about to say,” she cut in. “But Chelsey just came off a terrible breakup, and I was talking to her mother, and we think she’s matured. You should see her now, Nick. She got those hair extensions, and they really compliment her.”

  “Mom,” he cut in with a firm voice. “I’m dating someone, and I planned to bring her.”

  His mom went silent for a full thirty seconds.

  Nick’s heart thumped at the white lie . . . if he couldn’t convince Lauren to come, then he’d back out of the event and deal with his mother’s wrath later.

  “Does the woman you’re bringing happen to be Lauren Ambrose?”

  Nick froze. “What did you say?”

  “Oh, don’t be coy with me, son,” his mother said. “Tammy and I had a long chat this morning. She told me all about the artist you’re dating. And I did some searching on the internet, and I must say—”

  “You looked up Lauren?” he asked, not sure if he was impressed or completely annoyed. And what had Tammy been doing calling his mom?

  “I did, and you can do better, son,” his mother said.

  Nick was too stunned to speak.

  “Chelsey is cultured, she has an MFA, and she’s well-connected,” his mom continued. “I’m not even sure if Lauren Ambrose went to college. Whatever she did, she’s in a dead-end profession. Her paintings are so tiny. No one can see them. So I’m sorry to say that I don’t approve.”

  Nick found his voice. “I didn’t ask for your approval.”

  His mother’s next words were lighter. “How serious is it?” He could hear the hope in her voice, the hope that he’d tell her it wasn’t serious at all.

  But if there was one thing Nick couldn’t do, it was hide his emotions from his mother. She had the uncanny ability to discern what he was feeling even through a phone conversation. “Well, I like her, but she doesn’t want much to do with me.”

  His mother chuckled. “Goodness, that’s interesting. I guess your good looks, charming personality, and millions of dollars aren’t good enough for her? Like I said, she’s not for you, Nicholas.”

  Nick wanted to call Tammy right now and tell her to stay out of his life for good. “I hope that anyone I date will look past my money.”

  His mother scoffed. “You can hope, but it won’t happen. People are shallow. And they don’t change.”

  Nick found himself holding his breath, hoping his mother wouldn’t go into a tirade about his father. Thankfully, she hadn’t since his death. It appeared she greatly respected the deceased. It was one of his mother’s biggest complaints—that all the associates surrounding his father were shallow and obtuse. And she could truly go on for hours about all of her opinions on the matter.

  “Lauren isn’t shallow,” Nick said, hardly believing that he was discussing this with his mother in the first place. “In fact, she has her own money, but her life is very complicated.” That was the best he could come up with.

  “She’s an artist, which means she probably spends her day dabbing brushes into paint. So productive. Besides, you said she doesn’t care for you,” his mother said in a frank tone. “What do you see in her then?”

  Nick smiled to himself, still amazed he was in this conversation in the first place. “She’s not at all like Tammy, that’s for sure. And I’ve told you more than once that Chelsey and I aren’t going to ever get together. Lauren is unassuming. She’s the master of her own fate. She’s stubborn. Beautiful. And she puts everyone and everything before herself.”

  His mother went quiet again.

  Nick began to wonder if their connection had been broken when she said, “Bring her to San Clemente. I’ve changed my mind. I want to meet her after all. Just know that Chelsey will be there, and I hope that you will treat her well.”

  After hanging up with his mother, Nick lowered his head and rubbed at his temples. No. This couldn’t happen. He and Lauren weren’t really dating . . . he hadn’t even kissed her. So there was no way he’d ask her to meet his mother—Lauren would be scared off—assuming there was something between the two of them to be scared off about.

  Nick mulled this over. They weren’t in a relationship, so how could she be scared off?

  Maybe he should text her to see if she was available Sunday. He’d find some way to make it more about going to see art along the way? He typed a few things into his laptop, googling art museums between San Diego and San Clemente.

  Well, there it was. Another reason to invite her.

  But instead of texting her or calling, Nick decided to do something that was unprecedented for him. He didn’t even know if she was home, and he’d have to use the gate code she’d given him that night she’d been worried about Kevin lurking. But Nick was determined to show up on her doorstep and ask her in person. Flowers might help too.

  Which was why, thirty minutes later, he found himself at a neighborhood florist shop, staring at too many choices. What type of flowers did a woman like Lauren like? Exotic? Bold? Or sweet? Were roses too pretentious and daisies too childish? He settled on some white lilies, because their elegant grace reminded him of Lauren.

  The afternoon sun was warmer than usual when Nick stood at Lauren’s door. He rang the doorbell and waited a couple of minutes. No one came, so he rang it one more time. Still nothing. He debated whether to leave the flowers on the doorstep. He didn’t have a note on them, but he could text her later. So he set them in front of the door, and just as he turned away, the door cracked open.

  “Nick?”

  He turned.

  Lauren was wearing a pale-pink tank shirt and some ratty shorts. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, swept off her graceful neck. She had a sleepy look about her, which was pretty darn sexy.

  “Were you asleep?” he asked. “Sorry to wake you.”

  “I wasn’t asleep,” she said. “I was painting.”

  Now he noticed the bits of paint on her tank shirt and the one hand that he could see.

  “No suit or tie?” She openly appraised him, which only made him feel extra warm. “Khakis are a nice change.”

  “I can be casual sometimes.”

  She didn’t look convinced, but her gaze was amused, then she looked down to her feet, where the flowers were. “You brought flowers?” She looked up at him. “Why?”

  He slid his hands into his pockets. “Does a man need a reason to bring a beautiful woman flowers?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she set a hand on that curvy hip of hers. “You’re going with that, Nick?”

  His smile slipped out. “I wanted to, uh, ask you out, and I thought that flowers would work in my favor.”

  Lauren’s lips parted as if she was going to speak, but then she hesitated.

 

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