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What did she want? She couldn’t tell him the truth, because she couldn’t have what she wanted. She already knew that. So she only told him part of the truth.
“I want me, Nick. That’s all I want.”
“Another cryptic message, I suppose,” he replied with sarcasm. “Is this another test, like coming after you? Because I don’t like to be tested, Andy. I expect my wife to trust me. Of all the people in the world, she’s the one person who must trust me.”
Andy almost laughed, but she was working too hard to hold back the tears. “I know,” she whispered. “I know. Go to bed, Nick.”
He didn’t move. “Come with me, Andy. I’ll even promise not to touch you.”
From his voice she could tell that promise hadn’t been his original intention when he’d first invited her to his bed. The shiver that coursed through her had nothing to do with the coldness. “No, Nick. Go to bed.”
This time he did as she asked, stalking from the room as if he were a six-year-old unfairly punished. Again, Andy covered her stomach with her hands. Perhaps one day she’d see the same reaction again, with a real six-year-old.
With a faint smile, she continued preparing her bed, trying to think about the future, not the past.
A soft thud pulled her from her thoughts and she saw the white pillow as it landed on the other end of the sofa. She looked up to discover Nick glaring at her from the doorway.
“Thank you for remembering,” she called softly.
“You’re welcome,” he muttered, and closed the door with extra emphasis.
Andrea settled among the covers, her head resting on the pillow, and smiled again. Yes, definitely a six-year-old. But one who was well nigh irresistible. She’d be well advised to keep her distance.
Andrea awakened the next morning with the covers twisted around her and one foot exposed, her toes feeling frozen. She sat up to cover the poor cold foot and realized she hadn’t brought any crackers to bed with her.
“Rats!” she moaned, and made a run for the kitchen sink.
The next few moments were unpleasant, but she’d grown used to the morning routine. It served her right for not remembering the crackers. When she did, she was sometimes able to avoid the daily upheaval.
She was washing her face when she heard footsteps behind her. Whirling around, she discovered a frowning Nick.
“Did I wake you? I—I woke up starving and thought I’d fix some breakfast,” she said brightly, hoping to fool him.
“I’m not surprised. You didn’t eat enough dinner last night. Sit down and I’ll fix breakfast.” He moved toward her so she hurried out of his way.
“I didn’t know you could cook.” They’d had a housekeeper, one who’d been with Nick a number of years. Andrea didn’t think he’d ever seen the inside of a kitchen.
“Of course, I can cook. Do you think Aunt Bess would forget to teach me?” He was bent over, searching, she supposed, for a frying pan. Andrea shook her head when she realized her gaze was concentrated on his well-defined butt instead of their conversation.
“Um, if you’re going to cook, I think I’ll go back to bed. I didn’t sleep too well.” Besides, if he fried bacon, she was afraid she’d have another round of sickness.
He gave her a strange look as she edged toward the door. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
She nodded, afraid to trust her voice.
“Okay, go back to bed. I’ll bring you your breakfast when it’s finished. In fact, go get in Bess’s bed where you’ll be more comfortable.”
Her eyes widened and she struggled to find an answer.
“I’m not planning on joining you,” he added. “You’ve made your point.”
He thought she didn’t want him? Before she could burst into hysterical laughter at the idea, she whirled and left the room. She hesitated, though, when she reached the foot of the big bed. The slight indentation in the center of the mattress, where Nick always slept, filled her with longing. Rounding the bed, she reached out and touched that area, not really surprised to find a lingering warmth.
Her mouth watered as she remembered the nights wrapped in Nick’s arms. He was hot enough to heat all of Chicago, she reflected, and then giggled. And that could be taken several ways.
“You okay?” Nick called.
Quickly she scrambled into the bed and pulled up the covers. She didn’t want him checking on her. “Yes, I’m fine,” she shouted. “I’m in bed.”
Now if she could only keep from throwing up when he brought her the unwanted breakfast, she’d count it a successful morning.
When she awoke the next time, she could’ve eaten anything Nick cooked, but there was no Nick in sight and she could smell nothing cooking. A quick check of her watch showed that she’d slept several hours.
“Nick?”
He appeared in the doorway, dressed in tight jeans and another sweatshirt. “You’re awake.”
“Yes. I’m sorry I fell asleep while you were cooking breakfast. You changed clothes. Where did you find those?”
“Down in the basement. I left them here a long time ago. At least it’s a change from the overalls. Are you hungry now?”
“Starved.” Her gaze kept traveling up and down him, drinking in his masculine appeal.
“I’ll start lunch.”
He turned to go and Andrea called out to him. “I’ll fix lunch if you want, Nick.”
“Nope, I’ll do it. There isn’t a lot else to do.”
“Do I have time for a quick shower?”
“Sure. Take your time.”
She took Nick at his word. The only thing that drove her from the eye-awakening steamy shower was the growl from her stomach. She had discovered that once she was past the morning sickness, her hunger was incredible.
When she joined Nick in the kitchen, he had the food on the table. “I’m so impressed with your domestic abilities, Nick. I had no idea you were so talented.”
One black brow slid up as he gave her a cool stare. “You think I should’ve spent my time in the kitchen instead of amassing a fortune?”
Andrea looked away from his challenge. “It might have made you appear a little more human,” she finally muttered.
He slapped a plateful of food in front of her. “But it wouldn’t have paid for the penthouse.”
“I prefer Bess’s house to the penthouse,” she asserted, raising her chin in challenge.
“And the clothes, the furs, the jewels?”
“I don’t believe I ever asked for those things. You told me I had to have them for your image.”
“I didn’t hear you complain about wearing them,” he growled, joining her at the table.
She had the grace to blush. There had been a part of her that had enjoyed the luxury, she would admit, but it was a small part. “They were nice, but not—” She broke off. Their conversation was pointless. And painful.
“Not what? Obviously they weren’t important enough to hold you, unless you have plans to buy your own with the divorce settlement.” The bitterness in his voice was reflected on his face, turning his handsome features into something to be feared.
The sandwich he fixed for her tasted like cardboard as she thought of her response. She didn’t want his money, or at least, not much of it. But she couldn’t make the dramatic statement that he could keep all of it. She’d need some help.
“Hit the nail on the head, didn’t I?” he persisted. “Somehow I hadn’t pictured you as a gold digger, sweetheart.”
His last word hurt. It had the sharp edge of a knife, slicing through her heart.
But she wasn’t going to reveal such weakness. “I guess it just proves even the great Nicholas Avery can make mistakes.” She tried to avoid looking at him, but out of the corner of her eye she saw his hard, speculative gaze concentrated on her face.
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