He caught a whiff of her perfume as she pulled back, something light and spicy that called to the baser parts of his anatomy. It was different than the scent she’d worn so many years before. Then again, a lot of things were different now. And yet, so much had stayed the same—including his body’s instinctive response to her nearness.
He stared at her, at the flush of color that infused her cheeks as she clutched the cake protectively against her chest. The fierce, almost desperate determination in her golden eyes sparked a long-forgotten memory.
Not forgotten really, but buried. And as a hint of that memory started to surface, he remembered why it was buried. Why it was best to leave it that way.
“Kristin made this,” she said, as though it explained everything.
“There’s no reason to keep it.”
“There’s every reason.”
“It’s an unnecessary reminder of a tragic day.”
A day he knew he wouldn’t ever forget.
Although he was trying to maintain a positive outlook, especially for his sister’s sake, doubts were starting to creep in. He knew it was possible, although it was a possibility he didn’t want to consider, that Caleb might be suffering from a serious brain injury. And with every hour that Caleb remained in the coma, the outlook grew dimmer.
He loved all of Kristin’s kids, but he felt a special connection to Caleb. Maybe because he knew that his sister’s third pregnancy was unplanned, and he’d wanted to ensure that his youngest nephew never felt unwanted. Maybe because Caleb had been born when his own marriage had started to fall apart, and he wanted to fill the void in his own life that came from accepting he wasn’t likely to ever have any children of his own.
“It’s not a reminder of a tragedy,” she denied, interrupting his thoughts. “It’s a symbol of a celebration unfinished. And when Caleb wakes up, he’s going to want this cake.”
Nick wasn’t convinced Caleb would want any reminders of this day, but the strength of her conviction dissuaded further argument. He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. As if her absolute confidence in Caleb’s recovery hadn’t touched a dark place in his heart that desperately needed the light of reassurance.
“Then do something with it,” he said gruffly. “So Kristin doesn’t have to see it when she comes home.”
Jessica carried it to the kitchen.
It’s just a cake, Nick assured himself. There was absolutely no reason to believe that she had any residual power over him because he relented on this one issue.
But his gaze lingered on the doorway through which she’d disappeared.
Jessica was washing up the few dishes in the sink when Nick came back through the kitchen. Now that most of the cleanup was finished, she expected that he would make an excuse and be on his way. Instead, he took the carafe from the coffeemaker and brought it over to the sink to fill it with water.
His hand brushed against her arm as he reached for the tap. The contact was obviously accidental, as his hastily mumbled apology attested, and yet the fleeting contact stirred unwelcome memories, unwanted yearnings.
She wiped a soapy sponge around the inside of a bowl and fought back the unexpected sting of tears. This was exactly why she’d stayed away for so long. Because being with Nick inevitably made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, want things she’d always known she could never have.
Still, she hadn’t expected the pain to be so raw, the longing so intense. It had been eighteen years, and yet she still couldn’t forget how it felt to be in his arms. She couldn’t forget the hopes and dreams they’d briefly shared. And she couldn’t forget, had never forgotten, the overwhelming emptiness that had nearly consumed her when all of those hopes and dreams had fallen apart.
He measured coffee grounds into the filter as Jessica fought to get her emotions under control. She was more tempted than she wanted to admit to get into her car and head back to New York. And maybe she would have, except she refused to give him the satisfaction of doing what he so obviously expected.
After he’d set the coffee to perk, he picked up a tea towel and began drying the dishes she’d set in the drainer. “There is a dishwasher,” he said, indicating the appliance beside the sink.
She shrugged. “There weren’t that many, and I didn’t have anything else to do.”
They worked in silence for a few minutes, but with each second that passed, she was more aware of him beside her. The scent of him—not a cologne or aftershave, but the natural male essence of him; the heat emanating from his body, a body that had once merged with hers as if they were two halves of a whole, each incomplete without the other.
He’d once been everything to her, and when she’d lost him, she’d lost everything.
She rinsed the last dish, set it in the rack, then drained the soapy water.
“Coffee’s ready,” Nick said.
She hesitated to accept the implied invitation. The last thing she wanted was to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary in Nick’s company. But after so many years of avoidance, maybe it was past time they did learn to coexist with one another again. Maybe she needed to face those memories to get past them.
So she nodded her head and said, “Coffee sounds good.”
He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, filled them both with the fresh brew, and passed one to her.
“Thanks.” She moved to the refrigerator to get the cream, then carried it to the table. She added a generous splash to her cup along with a heaping teaspoon of sugar.
Nick took his own mug and pulled out the empty chair across from her. She noticed that he drank his coffee black.
She also noticed, as it was his left hand wrapped around the mug, that his wedding ring was gone. The last time she’d been home, he’d worn a simple gold band on his third finger and a gorgeous blonde on his arm. She wondered at the absence of both, and more so, why it mattered.
“How long were you planning on staying in Pinehurst?” Nick asked. “A couple of days? A week?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you have some hotshot job you need to get back to?”
She knew he was baiting her, but forced herself to respond coolly. “Yes, I have a job. But even hotshot attorneys are entitled to days off.”
“I’m sure they are,” he agreed. “Except that you don’t strike me as the type of woman to take any.”
And she never had before. In all the years she’d been at Dawson, Murray & Neale, she’d never taken a single personal day or sick day. Still, it rankled that he’d guessed this about her.
“What type of woman do I strike you as?” she challenged.
“Ambitious. Focused. Committed.”
She could be all of those things—had been all of those things. But lately she’d started to question her ambitions, lose her focus. And although nothing could have kept her away from Pinehurst after she’d learned of Caleb’s accident, she couldn’t deny that she was hoping a few days away from her job would give her a chance to reevaluate her choices, her life.
“Except that dropping everything to come back here seems both reckless and impulsive,” Nick continued, then he smiled. “Which almost reminds me of the girl I used to know.”
The smile was her first real glimpse of the Nick she remembered—the carefree boy who’d laughed easily and had made her laugh. If she’d been reckless and impulsive, it was because she’d been with him, because she’d trusted him implicitly and loved him completely.
“I’m not that girl