“Nicolette Richards?”
Ah yes, it was Greyson, all right. Nobody else had ever been able to say her name in quite the way he did, a way which always stirred something deep within her.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind the stage and faced the man she’d once loved, the man who had betrayed her in the worst possible way.
“Hello, Grey.” She was pleased to hear that her voice sounded cool, well modulated, not reflecting the tumultuous emotions that pressed thickly in her chest at the sight of him.
“I enjoyed the show. You’ve always been so wonderfully talented.” His voice was equally controlled, no sign that there was any emotional tug at all in seeing her again. She hated him for that.
How civil we are, she thought, staring at him wordlessly. How polite and kind, like two people meeting for the very first time.
She had been mistaken in that brief moment she’d seen him over the top of the background curtain. He had aged. The lines of the last seven years radiated from the corners of his dark eyes and deepened the creases on either side of his sensuous mouth. A few premature silver hairs glistened at his temples. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been only eighteen, and now, at twenty-five, the promising attractiveness had matured into full-blown handsome. Somehow, this provoked irritation in Nikki.
“What are you doing here, Grey?” she asked, aggravated that after all that had happened between them, despite the bitterness she felt toward him, she could still remember the taste of his kisses, the feel of his hands against her heated naked flesh. She was suddenly aware of a crackling electricity in the air surrounding them.
“I need to talk to you.” His voice was flat, his face expressionless.
Nikki stared at him curiously. What could he possibly want to talk to her about? And where the hell had he been when she had needed him seven years ago?
Suddenly, she wanted to be outside, out of the confines of the theater, someplace where Grey’s presence wasn’t so overwhelming. “We can talk outside,” she said, moving past him and out into the sultry night air.
She was conscious of him following close behind, and when she turned to face him, she realized what it was that seemed so different about him. It wasn’t the passage of time that was evident on his face, no, it was the way he was dressed. The Grey of her past had been a sunbronzed young man who went shirtless, wearing only a pair of faded cutoff jean shorts and a carefree smile.
The man before her wore a well-tailored suit and expensive leather shoes. More than that, he wore the Blakemore air of arrogance and confidence.
“What do you need to talk to me about?” she asked, wishing that he’d never come back, that they hadn’t shared a past so intense it remained in her soul in vivid detail.
“You probably heard that my father passed away,” he began.
Nikki nodded. “I was sorry to hear about it,” she said, but they were just empty words without the warmth of any real emotion behind them. Grey’s father had been a harsh, sanctimonious man who’d made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t like her. A “boardwalk brat” wasn’t a fit companion for a Blakemore.
She looked at Grey, waiting for him to continue, noting how the colorful lights strung along the boardwalk reflected in the darkness of his hair. She had once loved to stroke the silken strands, feel the richness between her fingers. She now clenched her hands tightly shut, feeling her nails dig into her palms.
He moved over to the edge of the wooden walkway and leaned against the railing. Beyond him the ocean pounded the shore, the waves silver-tipped with the light spilling from the full moon. “I’ve moved back here to take over the family business. Since most of that business interest lies on the boardwalk, I decided it was important I talk to you. You’ve always seemed to have a finger on the pulse of the area.”
“What do you want to know?” she asked stiffly.
“From all indications, Land’s End is slowly dying.”
“We’ve had a couple of rough years,” she agreed reluctantly. “But we’re anticipating this season will be much better.”
“We’ve received an offer on the place.”
Nikki narrowed her eyes. Yes, she’d heard the rumors that a large developer was interested in buying the area and putting up a luxury hotel. “Are you going to accept it?” Her heart seemed to pause in its beating as she waited for his answer.
He looked out somewhere in the distance, his eyes as dark and impenetrable as the ocean’s depths. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
Nikki took a deep breath, trying to swallow the anger that welled up inside her, an anger she knew was not only generated from this moment, but from the past, insidious in its strength. “If you sell Land’s End, you’ll be making a lot of people homeless.”
His nostrils thinned and his jaw knotted visibly. “I’m here to assess the situation and make a decision that will be the best for everyone concerned.”
Nikki snorted a bitter burst of disbelief. “I’m sure whatever you decide, it will definitely serve the Blakemore interests.”
He turned his gaze back at her, his eyes those of a stranger. “Had that been the case, I would have already signed the papers for the sale to go through. I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”
“So why are you here?” Nikki asked impatiently. She found it difficult to breathe, difficult to think with him standing so close. She could smell his after-shave, a pleasant scent of cool spice, a spice that evoked distant memories she now found abhorrent.
“I’d like you to set up a meeting with the others to discuss the future of Land’s End.”
“When?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Whenever it’s convenient for all of you. You can give me a call at the house when you’ve arranged it.”
Nikki merely nodded, unable to speak for a moment as once again memories swept over her, bringing with them bitterness, anger and the aching memory of what they’d once been to each other.
“I’ll expect to hear from you soon.” Again she nodded her reply, and Grey turned and walked away.
Nikki watched him until he disappeared from sight, then she slumped against the wooden railing, her hands covering her face.
She shivered, allowing her mind to propel her backward in time, unable to prevent the memories that spilled through her head.
“You and me against the world, kid.” How many times had she heard that from Grey when she was young? Greyson Blakemore, alienated from the other kids because of his family wealth. And Nikki, child of the boardwalk. The two of them had first met on the boardwalk’s carousel. Nikki had been eight, and Grey nine. Immediately, they had confronted each other warily, both wanting to ride the silver steed with the bright blue ribbons.
“You’re a boardwalk brat,” Grey had said, obviously mouthing a term he’d heard but didn’t quite understand.
Nikki had faced him squarely, unafraid of his bigger size. “And your mother is a girdle-squeezed, money-grabbing bitch,” she’d countered.
For a long moment, the two had stared at each other, neither denying the other’s words, but unsure what to do next. Finally, it was Grey who had broken the impasse. “We could take turns,” he suggested, eyeing the silver horse longingly.
It had been the beginning of a relationship that had lasted from the end of May to the beginning of September every year. Nikki had lived for the summers when she and Grey were free to wander the boardwalk, playing hide-and-seek beneath the wooden piers, and later learning other, more exciting games to play when the darkness of the evening descended and the heat of those summer nights surrounded them.
When Nikki was ten, Grey was