A Forever Kind of Love by Nora Roberts

Chapter 7

Freddie hated the fact that she couldn’t stay mad at Nick. Aloof, maybe. The bar was crowded with so many bodies, the room filled with so much noise, that it wasn’t difficult to stay aloof from one man.

But she just couldn’t hold on to her temper, not after what Nick had done for her grandparents.

In any case, there wasn’t time to brood over it, or over him. There were toasts to be drunk, food to be eaten, dances to be danced.

Not that Nick asked her to dance. He partnered her aunts, her mother, Nadia, family friends and relations. And, of course, the stupendously sexy Lorelie.

Well, if he was playing the aloof game, she would play harder.

“Great party!” Ben shouted near her ear.

“It is.” She managed to work up a smile for him as he awkwardly led her around the crowded dance floor. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it. I’ve known Zack’s in-laws for years. Terrific people.”

“The best.” Her smile bloomed a bit when she spotted Alex twirling his mother. “The very best.”

“I was thinking...” Ben missed a step, and barely missed her toes. “Sorry. Failed my dance class.”

“You’re doing fine.” Though he was in danger of breaking her wrist as he pumped her arm like a well handle to keep his time. She grabbed the first distraction she could think of to save herself. “Have you tried the food? Rio’s really outdone himself.”

“Then let’s get some plates.”

Look at her, Nick thought darkly, scowling at Freddie as Lorelie draped herself over him. Flirting with Ben. Anyone—even Ben—should have the sense to see that she wasn’t interested. Just leading him on. Typical female.

“Nick, honey.” Lorelie’s creamy voice invaded his thoughts. She sent him a melting look. “You’re not paying attention. I feel like I’m dancing by myself.”

He sent her a quick, charming smile that made even the savvy Lorelie almost believe he thought of no one but her. “I was just wondering if I should check the bar.”

“You checked it five minutes ago.” Lorelie pouted prettily. She knew when she didn’t have a man’s full attention—and how to take it philosophically. As attractive as Nick was, there were always other fish to fry. “Well, why don’t you get me a glass of champagne, then?”

“Sure, coming right up.” Relieved, he left her. She’d been clinging to him all night, like poison ivy on an oak, Nick thought. That kind of possessiveness always made him determined to shake loose.

The truth was, they just weren’t clicking. He didn’t think he was going to break her heart or anything quite so melodramatic, but Nick had learned through sad experience that women didn’t always take even the most compassionate breakup well.

He’d have to let her down gently. No doubt, the sooner he backed off, the better it would be. For her.

The idea made him feel so altruistic, and relieved, that he opened a fresh bottle of champagne with a celebratory pop.

“How come we get music only from that box?” Yuri caught Nick in a headlock that would have felled a grizzly. “Are you a piano player or not?”

“Sure, but I’m kind of tied up here.”

“I want music from my family. It’s my party, yes?”

The man who could deny a request from Yuri was a tougher man than Nick LeBeck.

“You bet, Papa. I’ll get right on it. Here take this.” He handed Yuri the glass of champagne. “No, don’t drink it.” With a quick laugh, Nick gestured across the room. “See the brunette over there? The one with the big...personality?”

Yuri grinned lavishly. “Who could miss?”

“Take it to her, will you? Explain I’ll be playing for a while. And don’t lay on too much charm.”

“I’m very controlled.” Then he rhumbaed over to Lorelie.

Prepared to enjoy himself, Nick made his way through the crowd to the piano. His smile dimmed considerably when he spotted Freddie already sitting on the bench.

“You’re in my spot.”

She shot him a look that said in no uncertain terms that she was no more pleased with the arrangement than he. “They want both of us.”

“It only takes one.”

“It’s Papa’s party, yes?”

He caught himself struggling with a grin at her imitation. “Looks that way. Move over.”

He sat, deliberately shifting to avoid touching her tempting, creamy shoulder and angled toward the keyboard beside the piano.

“What do they want?”

“Cole Porter, maybe, or Gershwin.”

With a grunt, Nick began the opening bars of “Embraceable You.”

Freddie shrugged and flowed with him into the tune.

Twenty minutes later, she was too pleased with the partnership to attempt to be aloof. “Not too shabby.”

“I can hold my own with forties stuff.”

“Hmm.” Automatically she picked up on the boogie-woogie he’d slid into.

He was enjoying, too much, the way she always seemed to anticipate him in any improvisation.

And her perfume was driving him insane.

“You can take five if you want. I can handle this. Ben’s probably getting lonely.”

“Ben?” Blank, she glanced up again. “Oh, Ben. I think he can survive without me. But you go ahead and take a break. I’m sure Lorelie misses you.”

“She’s not the possessive type.” To cover the lie, he switched tempos, trying to catch her. But she kept pace with him easily.

“Really? Couldn’t prove that by me, the way she was hanging all over you. Of course, some men—” She broke off as applause erupted. “Look at them.” She laughed, everything inside her warming as she watched Yuri and Nadia jitterbugging. “Aren’t they great?”

“The best. Why don’t we—Son of a bitch.”

“What?” She blinked, then refocused. It appeared the lonely Ben and Lorelie were finding solace with each other. If solace was quite the word, Freddie mused, for the way they were nuzzling in the corner. “She’s sitting in his lap.”

“I see where she’s sitting.”

“So much for letting him down easy,” Freddie muttered, just as Nick echoed the same sentiments, applied to Lorelie.

He snapped back first. “What? What did you say?”

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything. What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Suddenly they were grinning at each other.

“Well...” Freddie let out a quick breath as her fingers continued to move over the keys. “Don’t they make a cute couple?”

“Adorable. Now they’re going to dance.”

“Too bad for her,” Freddie said, with feeling. “Ben’s a nice guy, but he dances like he’s drilling for oil. I think he dislocated my shoulder.”

“She can handle it. But let’s slow this down before Yuri kills himself.”

He segued into “Someone To Watch Over Me.”

Freddie sighed, yearned. Romantic tunes always tugged at her heart. Flowing with it, she looked over at Nick. Maybe, while she was feeling so in tune with him, the taste of crow wouldn’t stick in her throat.

“It was lovely, what you did for Grandma and Papa.”

“No big deal. I just made a phone call, like you said.”

“Truce,” she murmured, and touched a hand to his for a moment. “It wasn’t just the limo, Nick, though that was wonderful. Stocking it with all those white roses, caviar, iced vodka. It was very thoughtful.”

“I figured they’d get a kick out of it.” As usual, her simple sweetness layered guilt over his black mood.

Pass the crow.

“I came down pretty hard on you earlier. I should have taken into consideration all the time and effort you put into getting things ready for tonight and setting up your apartment. Though why it took you so long to look for a lamp is beyond me.”

Her art deco lamp was her current pride and joy. “Why don’t you stick with the apology?”

“You did a nice job on the party.”

“Thanks.” Pleased with the small victory, she signaled to her father to take over for her. “And since you talk so sweet,” she added, leaning over to give him a kiss, “I forgive you.”

“I wasn’t asking you—” But she was already up and gone. Nick scowled when Spence took his daughter’s place. “Women.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself. She’s certainly grown into an attractive, independent one.”

“She was a nice kid,” Nick mused. “You shouldn’t have let her grow up.”

Spence noted, with a glance at Nick’s face, that Natasha’s theory on romance probably was on the mark. There was an ache around his heart. Spence supposed there always would be, at the idea of his little girl moving into her own separate life. But there was pride, as well.

Seamlessly he meshed with Nick on a Ray Charles classic.

“You know,” he continued, “boys are already coming by the house, flirting with Katie.”

“No way.” Shock raced into Nick’s eyes first, then the uncomfortable feeling of, at thirty, actually beginning to feel old. “No way. If I had a daughter, no way I’d let that happen.”

“Reality’s tough,” Spence agreed, then let the devil take over. “You know, Nick, it certainly eases my mind to know that you’re around to look after Freddie. I’d worry a lot more if I didn’t have someone I trusted keeping an eye out.”

“Yeah.” Nick cleared his throat. “Right. Listen, I’d better take over at the bar for a while.”

Spence grinned to himself and added a flourish to the notes.

“You shouldn’t tease him,” Natasha said from behind him, laying a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“It’s my job, as a father, to make his life a living hell. And just think, with the practice I have, how good I’ll be at it when it’s Katie’s turn.”

“I shudder to think.”

It was after two before the party broke. Now only Nick and Freddie and a few straggling family members remained. With a satisfied look, Freddie glanced around the bar.

It looked as though an invading army had suddenly pulled up stakes and gone off to another battle.

Tattered crepe paper hung drunkenly, so that white doves flew at half-mast. The tables that had been loaded with food had been thoroughly decimated, and all that was left of Rio’s pièce de résistance, the five-tiered wedding cake, were crumbs and a few smears of silvery icing.

There were glasses everywhere. Some enterprising soul had built a fairly impressive pyramid of lowball glasses in the corner. She saw a forest of crumpled napkins littering the floor, and, oddly, a single gold shoe with a stiletto heel.

She wondered how its owner had managed to walk out without lurching.

Leaning against the bar, Zack took his own survey and grinned. “Looks like everybody had a good time.”

“I’ll say.” Rachel picked up a cloth and gave the bar a halfhearted swipe. “Papa was still dancing on his way out, and my ears are ringing from Ukrainian folk songs.”

“You belted out a few yourself,” Zack reminded her.

“Vodka does that to me. Wasn’t it wonderful, seeing their faces when we gave them their gift?”

“Grandma just cried,” Freddie murmured.

“And Papa stood there telling her not to,” Nick put in. “While he was crying himself.”

“It was a wonderful idea, Freddie.” Rachel’s eyes filled again as she thought of it. “Lovely, romantic. Perfect.”

“I knew we wanted to give them something special. I’d never have thought of it if Mama hadn’t mentioned it.”

“You couldn’t have come up with better.” Rolling her weary shoulders, Rachel took another look around. “Look, I vote we leave this mess and tackle it in the morning.”

“I’m with you.” More than willing to turn his back on the destruction, Zack took her hand and drew her around the bar. “Abandon ship.”

“You two go ahead,” Freddie said casually. She didn’t want the night to end. And if prolonging it meant dealing with dirty dishes, so be it. “I just want to make a dent.”

Guilt had Rachel hesitating. “I suppose we could—”

“No.” Freddie aimed a quiet, meaningful look. “Go home. You’ve got a baby-sitter to deal with. I don’t.”

“Another hour won’t matter,” Zack said, squaring his shoulders.

“But we’ll leave it to you,” Rachel said, stepping hard on her husband’s foot.

“But—”

Zack finally caught the drift, and the ensuing kick in the shin. “Oh, right. You kids get a start on it. I’m exhausted. Can hardly keep my eyes open.” To add emphasis, he tried an exaggerated yawn. “We’ll finish up what you don’t tomorrow. Night, Freddie.” Not sure if he should wink or issue a sharp warning in Nick’s direction, Zack merely stared. “Nick.”

“Yeah, see you.” After the door closed, Nick shook his head. “He was acting weird.”

“He was just tired,” Freddie said as she loaded glasses onto a tray.

“No, there’s tired and there’s weird. That was weird.” Which, Nick realized, was pretty much how he felt, now that he and Freddie were alone. “Listen, they’ve got the right idea. It’s late. Why don’t we pretend this is done, and go away? It’ll still be here tomorrow.”

“Go on up if you’re tired.” Freddie marched toward the kitchen with her loaded tray. “I couldn’t sleep knowing I’d left all this. Not that it would bother you,” she said over her shoulder as the door swung behind her.

“It’s not like I made this mess myself,” Nick muttered, loading another tray. “I think I spotted one or two other people using glasses around here tonight.”

“Did you say something?” Freddie called out.

“No. Nothing.”

He carted his tray into the kitchen, where she was already filling the dishwasher, and set it down with a clatter.

“You don’t go to hell for leaving dishes in the sink.”

“You don’t win any prizes, either. I said go on up to bed. I can handle it.”

“I can handle it,” he mimicked in a mumble as he dragged out a pail. He stuck it in the sink, added a hefty dose of cleaner and a hard spray of hot water.

When he stalked out moments later, she was grinning.

For the next twenty minutes, they worked in silence that became more and more companionable. It pleased her to see the food cleared away, the bar gleaming again. And, she thought, while Nick wasn’t exactly whistling while he worked, his mood was definitely clearing up.

“I noticed that Ben and Lorelie left together,” Freddie began.

“You don’t miss much.” But his lips twitched. “They had a fine old time. Everybody did.”

“You’re not upset.”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t serious. Lorelie and I never...” Whoops, watch your step. “We just didn’t click.”

She couldn’t prevent the overwhelming sense of glee, but she did manage to conceal it. Humming a little, she picked up a chair, upended it onto a table in the area Nick had already mopped.

He swabbed a bit closer. Since she was being so easy about things, he thought it was time to clear the decks.

“Fred, I wanted to talk to you about this afternoon.”

“All right. You know, if we clean up any more, Zack will think we don’t need him. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

But she wandered over to the jukebox, loitered over the choices. Inspired, she pushed buttons, turned. “You didn’t dance with me tonight, Nick.”

“Didn’t I?” He knew very well he hadn’t, and why.

“No.” She walked to him as the slow, shuffling notes seeped out. “‘If I Didn’t Care,’” she thought. The Platters.

Perfect.

“You don’t want to hurt my feelings, do you, Nicholas?”

“No, but—”

But she was already slipping her arms around him. He laid his hand on the small of her back and led her into the dance.

His movements were smooth and surprisingly stylish. Always had been, she remembered as she rested her head on his shoulder. The first time she danced with him, she’d thrilled to them.

But there was a different kind of thrill now, for the woman, rather than the adolescent girl.

She fit so well, he thought. Always had, he remembered as he drew her closer. But she’d never smelled like this before, and he couldn’t remember her hair teasing him into brushing his lips over it.

They were alone, and the music was right. He’d always been susceptible to music. It tempted him now to rub his lips over her temple, nibble lightly at her ear.

Catching himself, he swung her out in a slow spin that made her laugh. Her eyes were glowing when she turned back into his arms.

She followed his every move as though she’d been born in his arms. Seemed to anticipate him as he walked her, circled her, twirled her again. In a move as gracefully choreographed as the dance, she lifted her head.

And his mouth was waiting.

He simply slid into her. Into the kiss, the warmth, the simplicity of it. Her arms came up, encircled his neck, her fingers skimming up threading into his hair.

He didn’t hear the music end, for it was playing in his head. Their own intimate symphony. He thought he could absorb her if she would let him. Her skin, her scent, that wonderfully generous mouth.

As the kiss deepened, lengthened, he imagined how perfectly simple it would be to pick her up, carry her upstairs. To his bed.

The clarity of the vision shocked him enough to have him pulling her back. “Fred—”

“No, don’t talk.” Her eyes were clouded, dreamily. “Just kiss me, Nick. Just kiss me.”

Her mouth was on his again, making him long to forget all the reasons why it shouldn’t be. However confused those reasons were becoming, he put his hands firmly on her shoulders and stepped back.

“We’re not doing this.”

“Why?”

“You’re on dangerous ground here,” he warned her. “Now get your things, your purse, whatever. I’m taking you home.”

“I want to stay here, with you.” Her voice was calm, even if her pulse rate wasn’t. “I want to go upstairs with you, to bed.”

The knot in his stomach tightened like a noose. “I said get your purse. It’s late.”

Her experience might be limited, but she thought she knew when to advance and when to retreat. On legs that weren’t quite steady, she walked behind the bar to get her purse.

“Fine. We’ll play it your way. But you don’t know what you’re missing.”

Afraid he did, he dragged a hand through his hair. “Where did you learn this stuff?”

“I pick it up as I go along,” she said over her shoulder as she yanked open the door. “Coming?”

It had just occurred to him that it might be a better—safer—idea to get her a cab. But she was already outside.

“Just hold on.” He slammed the bar door behind him and locked it.

Freddie began to stroll down the street. “Beautiful night.”

Nick muffled his muttering and methodical cursing. “Yeah, just dandy. Give me your purse.”

“What?”

“Just give it to me.” He snatched the glittery fancy and shoved it into his jacket pocket. For the first time, he noticed her earrings. “I bet those rocks are real.”

“These?” Automatically she lifted a hand to the sapphire-and-diamond clusters. “Yes, why?”

“You should know better than to walk around with a year’s rent on your earlobes.”

“It’s no use having them if I’m not going to wear them,” she pointed out with perfect logic.

“There’s a time and a place. And walking on the Lower East Side at 3:00 a.m. doesn’t qualify for either.”

“Want to put them in your pocket, too?” Freddie said dryly.

Before he could tell her it was just what he had in mind, someone called his name.

“Yo, Nick!”

Glancing across the deserted street, Nick saw the shadow, recognized it. “Just keep walking,” he told Freddie, automatically shifting her to his far side. “And don’t say anything.”

Breathless from the short jog, a thin-faced man in baggy pants fell into step beside them. “So, Nick, how’s it hanging?”

“Can’t complain, Jack.”

Freddie opened her mouth, but only a muffled squeak came out when Nick crushed all the major bones of her hand.

“Fancy stuff.” Jack winked at Nick and gave him an elbow dig. “You always had the luck.”

The man was too pitiful to bother decking. “Yeah, I’m loaded with it. We’ve got places to go, Jack.”

“Bet. Thing is, Nick, I’m short until payday.”

When wasn’t he? Nick thought. “Come by the bar tomorrow, I’ll float you.”

“Appreciate it. Thing is, I’m short now.”

Still walking, Nick dug into his pocket, pulled out a twenty. He knew exactly where it would go, if Jack could link up with his dealer at this hour.

“Thanks, bro.” The bill disappeared into the baggy pants. “I’ll get it back to you.”

“Sure.” When icicles drip in hell. “See you around, Jack.”

“Bet. Once a Cobra, always a Cobra.”

Not, Nick thought, if he could help it. Furious at being forced into the encounter, and that Freddie had been touched by the slimy edge of his past, he quickened his pace.

“You know him from the gang you used to belong to,” Freddie said quietly.

“That’s right. Now he’s a junkie.”

“Nick—”

“He hangs around the neighborhood, sometimes during the day. Odds are he won’t remember you, he was already buzzed, but if you run into him, just keep running. He’s bad news.”

“All right.” She would have reached for him, tried to comfort him somehow, drive away the misery lurking just behind his eyes. But they had reached her building, and he was pulling her purse out of his pocket.

Nick took out her keys himself and unlocked the front door, then stepped inside and pressed the button for the elevator. “Go upstairs. Lock your door.”

“Come up with me. Stay with me.”

He wanted to touch her, just once more. But his fingers still felt soiled where they had brushed Jack’s over a crumpled twenty-dollar bill.

“Do you have any idea what happened just now?” Nick demanded. “We just ran into part of my life, and if I hadn’t been along, he would have taken more from you than your pretty earrings.”

“He isn’t part of your life,” she said calmly. “He isn’t your friend. But you gave him money.”

“So maybe he won’t mug the next person he sees.”

“You’re not one of them anymore, Nick. I doubt you ever really were.”

He was suddenly so weary, so horribly tired. Giving in, he rested his brow against hers. “You don’t know what I was, what I still might be. Now go upstairs, Fred.”

“Nick—”

To silence her, he gripped her shoulders and brought his mouth down hard on hers. When she could breathe again, she would have staggered, but his hands steadied her as he pushed her into the elevator. She could only stare, system sizzling, as he snapped the grate closed.

“Lock your door,” he said again, and walked out.

He took a careful look up the street, down, then turned and waited until he saw her light flash on.

He took the long way home.