Married By Midnight

Chapter Six

“Come here, let me show you.” Nick dropped the wicker hamper and blanket under the tree, and took Amanda’s elbow.

“This is the Whitney farm?” Amanda asked, walking alongside him.

“Most of it. Ezra Whitney owned the acreage to the north, and his son owned that to the south. It belongs to me now.” Nick gestured to the old farmhouse. “This portion here in the middle will be mine shortly.”

“It’s not part of the Whitney farm?”

“No, it belongs to another farmer,” Nick said. “It’s been abandoned for years, as you can see by the condition of the place. We’re tracking down the owner now, arranging for the purchase of the land.”

Amanda looked up at Nick. “What if he won’t sell?”

“Oh, he’ll sell, all right,” Nick told her. “He’ll jump at the chance to unload this land.”

“It seems like you’re taking quite a chance,” she said.

Nick shook his head. “This tract of land is perfect. I’ll have it, one way or another.”

Amanda gazed around. “There must be a hundred acres.”

“Just about.”

“What do you plan to do with it?”

Nick stopped for a moment and surveyed the area. “I’m going to build a factory.”

“My goodness. That’s very ambitious,” Amanda said. “What are you going to manufacture?”

“Electrical parts,” Nick said, and started walking again. “Light switches and fixtures, sockets, wiring, bulbs. Everything needed to provide electricity to the public.”

“That’s a very progressive idea.”

“It’s the future.” Nick pointed across the field. “The main building will go right here. Come on, I’ll show you.”

They crossed the field as Nick explained the layout of the factory complex, pointing and gesturing. Amanda asked questions—intelligent questions—that pleased him no end.

As he explained the reason for the placement of the warehouses, he realized he couldn’t think of another woman he’d bring out here to look at his factory site—not even his mother or sister. But having Amanda here with him seemed the most natural thing in the world. He couldn’t imagine not having her here, not telling her about his project.

“Has the architect finished the plans?” Amanda asked as they walked toward the old farmhouse again.

“Almost.” Nick grinned. “I keep thinking of new things I’d like to add.”

“When will the factory open?”

“Early next year,” Nick said. “I’m projecting it will turn a profit within two years.”

“Two years?” she asked, her eyes wide.

He grinned. “I like to think long-term.”

“I guess you do.”

“Hungry?” Nick asked as they reached the shade of the oak tree. He gestured to the hamper. “I had the cooks prepare something for us. No easy task, with all the wedding preparations under way.”

Amanda spread the blanket on the soft grass and sat down. Nick joined her, the hamper separating them.

A light breeze stirred the wisps of hair at Amanda’s temples and her cheeks glowed a pale pink as she looked off across the field. Nick couldn’t keep his gaze away. It was the first time he’d been to the old Whitney farm and found anything more interesting than the land itself.

Amanda turned back to him and saw that he’d been watching her. She flushed slightly and dropped her gaze. Nick thought her the most lovely woman he’d ever seen.

“Let’s see what we have here,” he said, briskly opening the hamper.

Inside was cheese and bread, some cold meat, fruit and a bottle of wine. Amanda set out the plates and cutlery while Nick filled their glasses.

“Do you intend to employ women in your factory?” Amanda asked.

Nick bit off a chunk of bread. “Men and women working alongside each other? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“That sounds a bit old-fashioned for a man building a factory meant to take us into the next century,” Amanda said, sipping the wine.

He shrugged. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

“Well?”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know…”

“At least say you’ll think about it.”

“I’ll think about it,” he promised. “For you.”

Amanda smiled, and Nick couldn’t help smiling back.

“So,” he said, helping himself to the fruit, “what made you decide to build this women’s refuge?”

“I saw a need and wanted to fill it.” She gestured toward the open field. “Sort of like your factory.”

He sensed her evasiveness and again found himself desperate to know what thoughts lay in Amanda’s mind.

He sipped his wine. “I think there’s more to it than that.”

Amanda paused. “Do you?”

“Yes. And I’d like to know the whole story.” Nick grinned. “Besides, you trust me, remember? And I’m your new best friend.”

Amanda set her plate aside and studied him. At first, it irked Nick a bit that she wouldn’t simply tell him what he wanted to know. Did she not trust him? Could she believe he wasn’t genuinely interested?

“All right, I’ll tell you,” Amanda finally said, leaving him feeling that he’d accomplished something with her. “You arranged my escape from the house today. I suppose I owe you.”

Nick pushed the hamper aside and scooted a little closer to her on the blanket. But she gazed off across the field again, and for a moment he wondered if she really would tell him.

Finally, she looked back at him. “My father died when I was eleven years old. Mother was quite devastated, of course. She was also quite unprepared to make a life for us. She’d never worked. She had no skills, no training. Nothing that would allow her to get any sort of decent job.”

Nick shifted on the blanket. What Amanda was telling him was something highly personal and surely painful. Maybe he’d have been better off letting it alone, not insisting she tell him. Then, just as quickly, he disregarded the notion. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Amanda.

“It didn’t take long before the little money my father left us was gone,” Amanda said. “We lost our home. Mother didn’t want to accept charity.”

“But what about your uncle? The man’s worth a fortune.”

“Yes, but Uncle Philip was a distant relative of my father’s, and Mother didn’t know him,” Amanda said. “Finally, though, when things got really bad, she sent me to live there.”

“Why didn’t she come herself?”

“As I said, Mother wouldn’t take charity,” Amanda told him. “For me, yes. But not for herself.”

“But still…”

Amanda thought for a moment. “I think Mother was intimidated by them. Their money, their lifestyle. She knew she wouldn’t fit in.”

“But she sent you?”

“She never intended for me to stay with them. She simply wanted them to take care of me until she could get on her feet and make a home for the two of us.”

“But that never happened?”

Amanda glanced away. “No. She died.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nick whispered, and had never meant anything more in his life. Instinctively, he covered her hand with his. She felt fragile and small, her fingers warm against his skin. Amanda gave him a wan smile, then withdrew her hand, seemingly not comfortable with too much sympathy directed at her.

Nick wondered why he’d never heard about Amanda’s background when she’d first come to live with the Van Pattons. Their families had been close. Why had he not known these things about her?

Amanda drew in a deep breath, as if pushing the old memories to the recesses of her mind, where they belonged. “So, if Mother could have found decent work and a place to live, things would have turned out very differently for us.”

“And you think you can right that wrong by building your refuge?”

“Yes.”

Nick studied her for a long moment, absorbing the determined spark in her eyes, the set of her jaw. He nodded. “I think you can, too.”

“You do?” she asked, and seemed a little surprised. “You hardly know me.”

“I know you well enough to see that once you put your mind to something, Amanda, you’ll see it through. Which,” Nick said, “is a quality I very much admire.”

Another shy smile tugged at her lips, pulling him even closer to her. Something about this woman called to him, intrigued him, lured him. He leaned forward, his gaze locked with hers, and kissed her.

Nick’s heart thundered in his chest as he pressed his mouth against Amanda’s. He hadn’t known he was going to kiss her, hadn’t meant to do it. Yet it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Sweet. Oh, she tasted sweet. Slowly, Nick blended his lips with hers, savoring the feel of her, then pulled away.

It was a chaste kiss. Nothing hot or sweaty or passionate. But heat pumped through Nick with an intensity he hadn’t expected.

He looked at her face, inches from his. He felt her hot breath on his skin, and knew he wanted to kiss her again. More than that, he wanted to devour her. Smother her with the passion suddenly boiling inside him.

Nick drew back from her. Her pink lips were wet, her cheeks flushed and her blue eyes wide. Everything about Amanda summoned him, beckoned him to lean forward again, kiss her once more.

Should he? He sure as hell wanted to.

“We should get back to town,” he said, surprised at how low and raspy his own voice sounded.

Amanda nodded, seeming to understand his dilemma and their situation clearly. “Yes, we should.”

They tossed the remains of their picnic into the hamper. Nick got to his feet and gazed across the open field, annoyed to realize that the old Whitney farm would never be the same again.

Not after kissing Amanda.

“What did you dream last night?”

Amanda glanced to her left and saw Nick’s Aunt Winnifred take the seat beside her in the music room of the Hastings home. While the wedding party was at the rehearsal, Constance had named Winnifred hostess for the evening. Amanda and the other ten houseguests had just finished supper and were now gathering in the music room for the evening’s entertainment Constance had arranged.

“Well?” Winnifred asked, leaning a little closer.

Around them, voices blended pleasantly and skirts rustled as everyone settled into chairs.

“Let me think,” Amanda said, stalling. Last night she’d dreamed of Nick, but she didn’t intend to tell Winnifred.

It wasn’t the first time she had experienced a dream in which Nick played a starring role. Over the years, the vision of him often crept into her slumbers. And much to Amanda’s distress, the dream was always the same.

Her, in a crowded room, when Nick walked in. He crossed the room, speaking to everyone—but her. She reached out to him as he drew near. Yet he always stayed an arm’s length away. She could never quite touch him. Never get him to look at her. Never get him to speak to her.

Amanda had often wondered what the dream meant, wondered why it continued to periodically invade her sleep. But she certainly couldn’t ask Winnifred to interpret it for her.

“How did you become interested in dreams?” she asked instead.

“It’s quite fascinating,” Winnifred declared, snapping her fan open. “Dreaming is universal. It’s common among people of all lands, all cultures. Dreams are a sign of prophecy, a prediction of the future or a message of some sort. The Bible shows the significance of dreams. Some of the greatest thinkers believed in the power of dreams. One merely has to understand the signs and interpret them correctly to unravel their secrets.”

“And you’ve studied this extensively?” Amanda asked.

“Oh, no, of course not,” Winnifred said. “I interpret by instinct. Though my natural, logical thought process. It’s a gift. Now, tell me what you dreamed last night.”

Amanda decided to indulge the woman. It seemed harmless enough. She thought quickly, recalling a past dream that she hoped would satisfy Winnifred. “All right,” she said, “here’s what I dreamed.”

Winnifred’s features pulled together in tight concentration as she settled back in her chair, listening.

“I dreamed I was standing at the train station,” Amanda said, “waiting for a train.”

Winnifred’s lips pressed together. “Was it raining?”

“No.”

“Were small animals with you?”

“No.”

“Were you wearing purple?”

Amanda drew back slightly, eyeing her. “No.”

“Hmm…” Winnifred’s eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together so tightly they nearly disappeared. A moment dragged by while she stared straight ahead, tapping her fan against her palm. “Aha!” she cried.

Amanda jumped.

“I know what your dream means,” Winnifred announced. “It indicates your dislike for certain kinds of food.”

Amanda frowned. “It does?”

“Certainly.”

“Doesn’t it mean that I’m anxious to go somewhere? Or, perhaps, looking forward to the arrival of someone or something new in my life?”

“Oh, no, no,” Winnifred said, waving away the idea.

“But the train, and the train station…?”

“Foods,” Winnifred assured her.

“Well, all right…if you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure. I told you, I’ve been blessed with a gift.” Winnifred gave a brisk nod, then levered herself out of the chair and walked away.

She circulated through the room, chatting with the other guests, then gave a brief introduction as a pianist popular in the city made her entrance. Winnifred resumed her seat beside Amanda, and the performance began.

Amanda clasped her hands in her lap, determined to focus her thoughts on the young woman seated at the piano. A full minute passed before she realized her mind had drifted.

To Nick.

To their kiss.

So much for her vow to keep her distance from him. Not only had she jumped at the chance to spend the day with him, she’d allowed him to kiss her.

Not that she could have stopped him.

Not that she wanted to stop him.

Determinedly, Amanda recalled ten years ago, when Nick had treated her so shabbily. When he’d broken her heart. Why hadn’t that incident made her hate him?

Through the years, whenever the Hastings and Van Patton families had gotten together, the conversation always included news of Nick. His mother talked about how well he ran the family business, what a good man he’d become.

And from all Amanda had seen since her arrival in Los Angeles, his mother had been right. Nick was a good, decent man. Maybe if he weren’t, Amanda could find an excuse to dislike him. If he had a major fault, she could point to it and tell herself that no, she shouldn’t involve herself with him, and here was the reason why. But so far she’d found nothing. No reason not to still care about him.

What did it mean? That she herself suffered from some horrific personality flaw that wouldn’t allow her to forget him?

The song ended and polite applause rippled through the room. Amanda forced her attention to the pianist and clapped her hands, smiling her appreciation, nodding in agreement when Winnifred cast a glance her way. The pianist took her seat again and resumed playing. Amanda slipped into her own thoughts once more.

Today. Alone with Nick. Just the two of them rambling through town, then into the countryside. She’d told him things she seldom shared with anyone. He’d explained his Whitney project, as if he couldn’t wait to tell her about it.

And then he’d kissed her.

Amanda sighed deeply, remembering the taste, the feel of his lips. In the decade since he’d last kissed her, Nick Hastings had gotten better at it. Though their exchange this afternoon was little more than a brushing of lips, Amanda sensed a command, a passion that had caused her stomach to tingle—still, hours later.

Applause again interrupted Amanda’s thoughts, and she realized the song had ended. Quickly she joined in, glancing around, hoping no one had noticed her lack of attentiveness.

Voices drifted in as the applause died. Amanda turned to see the wedding party enter the room.

Nick. Tall, sturdy, handsome Nick Hastings.

Amanda’s heart thumped into her throat and hung there. Her stomach fluttered. She didn’t need Winnifred to interpret these signs. Amanda already knew what they meant.

The dream she’d had so often in the past that she wouldn’t allow herself to share with Winnifred popped into her mind. Now, at this moment, the dream became a reality.

Amanda in a crowded room. Nick entering. Would he ignore her, hold himself aloof, just out of her reach, as he always had in her dream?

“Winnifred,” Amanda whispered, “do you believe that dreams can come true?”

“Oh, of course,” she told her.

Amanda’s pounding heart seemed to skip a beat as she watched Nick standing in the doorway. Ten years ago he’d kissed her, then ignored her. This afternoon after he’d kissed her, he’d announced they were leaving.

Would he now treat her the way he had all those years ago? Once more, would he ignore her? As he always had in her recurring dream?

Amanda drew in a fortifying breath.

Nick’s gaze swept the room, landed on Amanda and stayed there. He smiled. Someone spoke to him, but he ignored the man and walked straight toward her.

Her heart raced as he drew near, stopped in front of her and took her hand. Amanda rose, her gaze locked with his, neither of them aware of anyone else in the room.

Her awful dream hadn’t come true.

At least, not tonight.

Chapter Seven

“I love weddings,” Ethan said.

“Is that so?” Nick grumbled as he stepped out of the house onto the rear lawn, where the wedding reception was under way.

Late-afternoon sun shone brightly on the lawn, where a white, gauzy tent had been set up, crowded with tables covered with white linen and bouquets of fresh flowers. Fine china and crystal gleamed. Musicians played as elegantly attired couples swirled on the dance floor.

“Absolutely,” Ethan declared, as he fell into step beside Nick.

“Since when?” Nick asked, though he wasn’t much interested in the answer. Not with the problem that was on his mind, delivered to him just now from his office downtown.

“What’s not to like?” Ethan helped himself to a glass of champagne from a passing waiter as they stopped in a shady spot near one of the refreshment tables. He took a second look at Nick. “What’s wrong with you? No, wait. Let me guess. Another problem with your Whitney project?”

Nick fumed for a moment, annoyed now with Ethan as well as the problem he had to deal with. Yet he didn’t intend to discuss it with his friend. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Routine business.”

“Humph.” Ethan grunted in disbelief, then shook his head. “That project is going to bankrupt you. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—you’d better pull out before you sink every cent you have into it, and lose it all.”

“This project will work,” Nick insisted, keeping his voice down with considerable effort.

Ethan glanced at him. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?”

Nick glared at him. “I don’t need to convince anyone.”

“Relax, will you? This is supposed to be a party—your sister’s wedding reception.” Ethan gestured with his glass toward the guests, then sighed contentedly. “Look at all these lovely young women, dressed in their finest, all so beautiful, just waiting to be…well, now, who have we here? Who is that gorgeous creature talking with old man Ramsey?”

Nick’s gaze followed Ethan’s to the edge of the crowded dance floor. His simmering annoyance edged closer to anger as he realized it was Amanda whom Ethan had noticed.

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