“No? Really?” Damien and Nathan laughed.
“I see you’ve already found that out.”
“I have. She’s very determined.”
“She’s also very honest—too honest for her own good sometimes,” Damien continued, glancing across at his sister as she stood with Natasha and Nicole.
“Yes, she is,” Nathan agreed. “She’s very beautiful,” Nathan couldn’t help admitting as he, too, glanced across the room at the subject of their conversation.
“You’re attracted to her.” Damien returned cool eyes to his fiancée’s brother.
“Who wouldn’t be?” Nathan proclaimed quickly. Then he added, “I know she’s your sister, but even you must admit she’s a knockout.”
“I do, but she’s not a toy or a diversion.” Damien’s eyes narrowed in warning.
“I never thought she was.” Nathan returned his cool gaze unflinchingly.
“Good,” Damien said and nodded as he silently studied the other man. He thought they could become good friends but not if he did anything to harm his sister.
“I don’t want to hurt Marcy,” Nathan assured him, sensing Damien’s thoughts.
“Then don’t,” Damien simply ordered.
“I don’t plan on it,” Nathan said, but even as he uttered the words, he knew that was a promise he might not be able to keep.
“Are you enjoying being back in New York?” Damien changed subjects, having said what he had needed to.
“Very much.”
“After Tasha and I get settled in as an old married couple, we’ll have to take you out and reintroduce you to some of the good spots,” Damien offered.
“I’d like that.” Nathan smiled.
Nathan’s eyes connected with Marcy’s again, and she smiled at him knowingly. He had a feeling she knew exactly what he and her brother were talking about, and she was going to make his resolve not to become involved with her near impossible to keep—just as he feared he was going to find it nearly impossible to live up to his promise to leave her alone.
* * *
Two and a half hours later the occupants of the private dining room were preparing to leave and go their separate ways. A few days later, they would all gather again for Damien and Natasha’s wedding.
“Can I bum a ride home from someone?” Marcy glanced expectantly at Nathan. “My car’s in the shop.”
“Tasha and I can drop you off.” Damien placed an affectionate arm around his sister’s shoulders. “It’s on the way.”
“It is on Nathan’s way, too,” Nicole quickly intervened.
Marcy silently vowed to send her a huge bouquet of flowers the next day. She was turning out to be a wonderful ally.
“That’s a fabulous idea,” Linda decided, winking at Margaret. “Nathan, you take Marcy home.”
“It’s no problem. We can take her,” Damien insisted, despite Marcy’s glare.
Damien could see what was going on here, and though Marcy didn’t seem to mind, he did; for some reason, even though he had spoken with Nathan and liked him, something was nagging him about Natasha’s brother. In his gut—and he had learned from painful experiences to trust his gut—he knew that somehow Nathan was going to end up hurting his sister, and he would do everything in his power to stop that from happening.
“Darling, I’m tired and would rather go straight home,” Natasha intervened. “Nathan, you don’t mind taking Marcy home do you?”
Nathan realized every female present in the room was very skillfully ambushing him. He had come up against some worthy adversaries in his day but none as lethal as the quintuplet in front of him. What could one do against such skillful opponents, except surrender—and hope to live to fight another day?
“No, not at all,” he dryly agreed.
“Good, now that is all settled.” Linda smiled pleased and walked over to talk to Margaret. Marcy was a lovely woman and might be just what her absentee son needed to get him to settle down.
“You’d better watch out, son, your mother and Marcy’s mother are plotting your downfall.” Lincoln slapped his son on the back as Marcy walked away to retrieve her coat.
“Really? You could have fooled me, Dad.” Nathan shook his head in exasperation as he glanced at the smiling faces of the two women in question.
“Ready to go, Nathan?” Marcy came back with her leather coat draped over her arm.
“As I’ll ever be,” he muttered, taking her coat and placing it over her shoulders.
“What?” She glanced at him, stifling a laugh.
“Nothing,” he denied. “Good night everyone,” he shouted as they prepared to leave.
“Good night!” Marcy beamed as she preceded him out.
“Promising.” Margaret approved, having witnessed her daughter’s keen interest in Nathan on New Year’s Eve manifested again tonight. Obviously, Marcy was serious, and after watching the two tonight, it was obvious Nathan was taken with Marcy, too. Although being a man, he was trying his best to fight it.
“Yes, I think you’re right,” Linda agreed as both women walked away to discuss their children’s futures.
* * *
Nathan was silent for most of the drive, which was okay with her. She was formulating her strategy. He was so much work, but she knew he’d be worth it in the end. She would remind him of this one day, and they would laugh about him clinging to his overrated bacherlorhood.
When they reached her condo, he opened the car door and helped her out and then started to walk back around to the driver’s side. She placed a restraining hand on his arm. “You’re not going to leave me here, are you?”
“I was,” he curtly agreed.
“Nathan, anyone could be lurking in the dark, just waiting for me. Then what would I do?” She feigned alarm. “I’d be helpless.”
Despite his black mood, he smiled genuinely at her assertion. “Marcy, one thing you will never be is helpless.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She took his proffered arm as he walked her into the building. “I’m pretty helpless when it comes to you.”
“Marcy.” His steps faltered at her admission. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” He was silent for the elevator ride to her floor. “Come in for a drink,” she offered as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.
“No, I’d better not.” He turned to leave.
“Come on in, I won’t bite. I promise.”
Before he knew what had hit him, he was pulled inside, and the door decisively clicked behind him. He knew all he had to do was leave, but as was becoming a habit with Marcy, he gave in because he wanted to. Her apartment was spacious, decorated in pastels with a tapestry sofa and chairs.
“Your place is very nice.” He took off his coat in resignation.
“Thanks. Make yourself at home,” she yelled, throwing her coat over a chair as she walked into what he assumed was the kitchen, returning seconds later with a bottle of white wine and two glasses. “Will you do the honors?”
“Sure.” He wanted to protest but decided against it. He would have one glass and then go.
“Sit