“Do you routinely have so many women in your bedchamber?”

“Only ones I’m related to.” His grin turned devilish. “Unfortunately.”

The heat inside Amanda boiled, spread through her, weakening her knees. The mere presence of this man two feet away called to her, urged her to move closer, as if he somehow held a power over her she could not resist.

And didn’t want to resist.

“So, anyway,” Nick said, “I came to apologize for my state of dress just now.”

“The lack of it, you mean?”

He grinned again. “Yes. I hope you weren’t offended.”

“Traumatized beyond recovery,” Amanda declared. “I’ll probably have to spend the rest of the day in bed.”

His grin blossomed into a full smile and his gaze dipped to her toes, then rose to her face once more in a swift, hot sweep.

Amanda’s cheeks burned as his gaze caressed her….

Praise for Judith Stacy’s recent titles

THE NANNY

“…one of the most entertaining and sweetly satisfying tales I’ve had the pleasure to encounter.”

—The Romance Reader

THE BLUSHING BRIDE

“…lovable characters that grab your heartstrings…a fun read all the way.”

—Rendezvous

THE DREAMMAKER

“…a delightful story of the triumph of love.”

—Rendezvous

THE HEART OF A HERO

“Judith Stacy is a fine writer with both polished style and heartwarming sensitivity.”

—Bestselling author Pamela Morsi

#619 BORDER BRIDE

Deborah Hale

#620 BADLANDS LAW

Ruth Langan

#621 A PERILOUS ATTRACTION

Patricia Frances Rowell

Married by Midnight

Judith Stacy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Available from Harlequin Historicals and
JUDITH STACY

Outlaw Love #360

The Marriage Mishap #382

The Heart of a Hero #444

The Dreammaker #486

Written in the Heart #500

The Blushing Bride #521

One Christmas Wish #531

“Christmas Wishes”

The Last Bride in Texas #541

The Nanny #561

Married by Midnight #622

To David—my Superman

To Judy and Stacy—my Kryptonite

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter One

Los Angeles, 1896

Another wedding. Her third in as many months. Could she really be expected to show excitement about yet another trip down the aisle?

At least none of the weddings had been her own.

Trying to look interested in the chatter of the three other young women in the bedchamber, Amanda Van Patton eased onto the foot of her friend’s bed and gripped the carved post. Trousseaus, invitations, china patterns. Amanda feared she might scream if she heard those words one more time.

“ Oh, and look at this.” Cecilia Hastings, the bride-to-be, pulled another trousseau gown from her massive redwood closet and held it in front of her.

It was a promenade dress, pale teal with a matching parasol and hat that Amanda admitted would look wonderful on Cecilia, with her dark hair and green eyes. Another round of “ oohs” and “ aahs” rippled from the other women. Amanda managed an “ oh, lovely.”

Perhaps if she weren’t so tired she might enjoy this impromptu fashion show, she decided, as Cecilia emerged from her closet with a lavender-and-ivory afternoon dress. Amanda had just arrived at the Hastings mansion in the West Adams district of Los Angeles, making the trip from her home in San Francisco in her uncle’s private railroad car. She had already had a busy day before she’d set out on this journey.

“ Oh, it’s darling,” she murmured as Cecilia presented another promenade dress. While the other two women in the room—friends of Cecilia’s whose names Amanda had already forgotten—fawned over the pink creation and its wide-brimmed, white hat with matching flowers, Amanda kept her seat.

No, she wasn’t tired, she admitted to herself. Only bored.

She glanced out the window at the moonlight illuminating the darkness and wondered how much longer she’d have to sit here before she could tactfully retire for the evening.

And why shouldn’t she be bored? She’d just gone through this with her cousins—twice.

Since she was thirteen, Amanda had lived with her aunt and uncle and their four daughters in their Nob Hill mansion. Uncle Philip’s wealth had given the family the best of everything—culminating in her cousins’ weddings.

The twins, a few years younger than Amanda, had married within weeks of each other. Prior to that the Van Patton household had been in chaos for an entire year. Flower selection, dressmakers, menus, musicians and the endless stream of tedious details required to stage a wedding had been the topic of conversation morning, noon and night.

As a bridesmaid for both of her cousins, Amanda had been dragged through each facet of the planning. She’d managed to keep a smile on her face—in public, anyway—through the whole ordeal. She wasn’t sure she could do it much longer.

She drew in a fortifying breath as Cecilia whirled around the bedchamber holding a pale yellow ball gown in front of her, and the other young women broke into applause.

“Radiant…” Amanda said, calling upon her considerable store of bridal compliments.

Luckily, Cecilia’s wedding ceremony was only two days away. Amanda straightened her shoulders. Somehow, she’d get through it. She had to.

After all, she was the sole representative of the Van Patton family present at the Hastings-St. John wedding. Both of her cousins were still off on their own honeymoons, and Aunt Veronica had come down with a case of the hives at the last minute. Uncle Philip was too busy—or too smart—to attend weddings.

That left only Amanda to put in an appearance on behalf of the Van Pattons at what one Los Angeles newspaper’s society column had already proclaimed “the wedding of the season.” The prominence and wealth of the Hastings family allowed for no less.

Amanda pulled her lips upward, forcing a smile as Cecilia headed into the closet once more.

If it hadn’t been a wedding that brought Amanda to Los Angeles she probably would have enjoyed the trip. The Hastings and Van Patton families had been friends for years. They visited back and forth, hosted each other on holidays and occasionally vacationed together. The time they spent together had diminished in the past few years, since Cecilia’s father had died, and everyone had grown older and moved on with life.

But the families stayed in touch. They had, in fact, known each other for more years than Amanda had been part of the San Francisco branch of the Van Patton family. She’d only been sent to live with them eleven years ago when, at age thirteen, her father had passed away and her mother had fallen on hard times.

Amanda had been accepted into the family, even if she hadn’t fit in very well.

“Breathtaking,” she muttered now as Cecilia displayed her going-away dress, a cream-colored ensemble trimmed with green flowers and lace.

While the other women circled the gown, commenting on the fabric and cut, Amanda cast a furtive glance toward the clock on the marble mantel above the fireplace. After eleven already. Surely this would end soon—even Cecilia Hastings couldn’t have that many more dresses to display.

As if her thoughts had somehow conjured up a tangible excuse for escape, the bedchamber door burst open and a stout woman with well-coiffed gray hair steamed in. She planted herself in the center of the room, silencing all the young women abruptly, and turned to Cecilia.

“What did you dream last night?” she demanded.

Cecilia paused, holding her black-and-white lace riding habit before her. “Aunt Winnie, where have you been all day?”

“Busy. Very busy,” she declared, waving her hands. “Now, what did you dream last night?”

Cecilia gestured toward Amanda, who rose to her feet. This was a member of the Hastings family she’d never met.

“Aunt Winnie, this is Amanda Van Patton,” Cecilia said. “My aunt, Winnifred Dubois from New York.”

“Of course. The Van Pattons of San Francisco.” Winnifred crossed the room to Amanda. “What did you dream last night?” she repeated.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I interpret dreams,” Winnifred declared. She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Not professionally, of course.”

“No, of course not,” Amanda said, and couldn’t help smiling.

“Never mind.” Winnifred turned back to Cecilia. “The bride-to-be should go first.”

“Let me think.” Cecilia pressed her lips together. “I don’t believe I dreamed anything last night.”

“Nonsense. Of course you dreamed something. Everyone dreams, every night,” Winnifred said. “Your brother is an excellent example.”

Cecilia exchanged a look with the other women. “I’m not sure Nick’s dreams could be the best example of anything.”

Giggles muted by hands pressed to lips rippled through the room as Winnifred took exception to Cecilia’s comment.

But Amanda heard none of the conversation, only the thudding of her own heart as it suddenly beat double time in her chest. Her breathing quickened as it always did when Nick was mentioned.

Tall, handsome Nick. Black hair. Green eyes.

Was he in the house somewhere? Amanda wondered. Here, under the same room with her? Steps away? At this very moment?

She let her heart run wild, her mind fill with memories of Nick.

The first time she’d laid eyes on him.

Their moonlit encounter in the snow-covered forest. The night he’d ruined her for all other men.

Amanda drew in a breath and stilled her runaway thoughts. If Nick was, in fact, here in the house tonight, it wouldn’t matter. He may as well be miles away.

Really, Nick had always been miles away.

Amanda sank onto the bed and pressed her lips together. She couldn’t wait to get this wedding over with and go back home.

Nick Hastings sank lower in his leather chair and stretched his long legs up, propping his heels on the corner of his desk. At the end of this tiring day the house was finally quiet—and it hadn’t been quiet for weeks. Thanks to the wedding.

A short time ago he’d heard the doorbell chime and feminine voices drift down the hallway to the study, where he’d closed himself in after supper. More of Cecilia’s friends stopping by, or yet another guest arriving for the big day.

Across the desk from Nick sat his two oldest friends, Ethan Carmichael and Aaron St. John. Both were dark-haired, neither quite as tall as Nick; all of them had just passed their thirtieth birthday. Between them sat the bottle of Scotch they’d been working on for the past hour or so.

Occasions such as this were a rarity for the three of them. With large companies to run, they seldom had time for an evening of cigars, open collars and conversation.

Which was probably a good thing, Nick decided as he took another sip of Scotch. His head had started to buzz three drinks ago.

“Thank God this wedding nonsense is almost over with,” Ethan declared, puffing his cigar. He elbowed Aaron, who was sitting next to him. “Now you can get on with the honeymoon.”

Ethan fell into a fit of laughter, and Aaron grinned stupidly. Nick dropped his feet to the floor and thumped his fist on the desk.

“That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

Ethan gulped down his laughter with a swig of Scotch.

“Yes, your sister. A woman for whom I have the utmost respect, and whom I love more than life itself,” Aaron said. “But after so long a time, you can understand how I’m…anxious to have this whole thing over with.”

“A hard-fought battle,” Ethan agreed, saluting him with his glass. “How long have you and Cecilia been engaged now?”

“Fourteen months, two weeks and five days,” Aaron said.

Ethan shook his head. “This wedding business…damn lot of nonsense, if you ask me.”

“How many parties and the like?” Nick asked.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Dinners, receptions, engagement parties and celebrations—hell, I’ve lost count. Not to mention the hours spent with the florist, the clergy, looking at china patterns, talking about honeymoon plans.”

Ethan grinned and sipped his drink. “But well worth it after you walk down the aisle.”

Nick rapped his knuckles against the desk and pointed at Ethan. “None of that kind of talk.”

A light knock sounded and the door opened. Cecilia stepped inside the study, smiling at the three of them.

“I see you boys are behaving yourselves,” she said.

They clattered to their feet. Aaron, the first to rise, crossed the room to stand beside her.

Cecilia glowed. Nick had seen that happiness on her face for months, growing more luminous as the weeks passed. Now, with the wedding two days away, she was positively radiant.

She smiled up at Aaron and he down at her. They moved close, as if drawn to each other instinctively, but were careful not to touch.

They were in love. Any fool could see it. Nick wasn’t sure why it made his chest ache a little.

Must be the Scotch, he decided, and took another gulp.

“Can I steal you away for a few minutes?” Cecilia asked, gazing up at her intended.

Aaron followed her out the door without a backward look.

Nick watched the two of them disappear and the door close. He and Ethan dropped into their chairs again.

“Seems it’s worth it,” Ethan said. “The wedding hoopla, I mean. Worth it to be married, from the looks of those two. Lately, I’ve found myself thinking that I wouldn’t mind being married.”

Nick’s gaze came up quickly. “You’re joking.”

His friend shrugged. “No, not at all. I guess I’ve come to the point in my life where having a wife, looking toward the future, producing children, seems, well…it seems—”

“Appropriate.” Nick sat back in his chair. “Actually, I’ve been thinking the same.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

The idea had come as a surprise to Nick, too. He’d had no time or energy for such thoughts until lately.

Since his father’s death six years ago, Nick had focused his efforts first on maintaining, then increasing the wealth his father had left him to manage. Nick had the welfare of his mother, his sister and a parade of relatives on his shoulders. The house, still under construction at the time, had had to be to finished—and paid for, of course. So that they could feed their own families, the workers in his father’s businesses had depended on him to keep those businesses going, keep them profitable. All of them had depended on Nick.

It had consumed him, driven him, nearly beaten him at times. He’d been but twenty-five years old when his father had died, out of college only a short time and not quite ready to take life so seriously.

But he’d persevered. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—fail the many people who relied on him. He wouldn’t fail the memory of his father. Or fail himself.

With mentoring from some of his father’s friends, and an uncanny instinct for business he hadn’t known he possessed, Nick had doubled the family fortune. Now, on his own, he was about to triple it.

He sat back in his chair again. “I have everything else in life. A successful business, a good home, financial security. What the hell am I going to do with it?”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Think you’ll hold on to all that money? Even with that Whitney project you’ve started?”

Nick shifted in his chair. “It will make me a fortune.”

“If it doesn’t bankrupt you first,” Ethan said. He nodded. “Gutsy move on your part, I’ll give you that. Going it alone on such a huge undertaking is risky.”

This wasn’t the first time someone had expressed concern about his latest business venture. It was a massive project, already months in development, with thousands spent, and they’d not even broken ground yet.

But he’d investigated it thoroughly, looked at it from every angle, consulted with experts in the field. Nick was confident he could pull it off without additional partners or financial backers. In fact, that was the only way he wanted to complete this project.

Somewhere in the middle of a sleepless night a few months ago, the thought had come to Nick that he had no one to leave his fortune to. The notion had been floating in the back of his mind ever since.

“I suppose,” Ethan said, “having a wife, then a family, is the next logical step.”

Nick sipped his Scotch and nodded. “It makes sense.”

Ethan snorted a laugh. “Just who the hell do you think is going to marry you?”

“I could ask you the same,” Nick said. “You’ve got a list of faults a mile long.”

“Me?” Ethan rocked forward in his chair. “I can’t even think where to start naming all your shortcomings. You’d never find a woman willing to marry you.”

“Like hell.”

“I could find a wife quicker than you,” Ethan told him.

Nick grunted. “In your dreams, maybe.”

“Want to bet?”

Nick gazed across the desk at his friend. Over the years the two of them had wagered on most everything imaginable. Neither man liked to lose.

“You’re not serious,” Nick said.

“Why not? We both want to get married. Why not make the whole process a little more interesting?”

Nick stroked his chin. “What did you have in mind?”

Ethan thought for a moment. “We’ll both go wife hunting, and whichever of us is married first will be the winner.”

Nick frowned. “I don’t know that I’ve got time to court a woman right now, with this Whitney project going.”

“Then we’ll set a time limit,” Ethan said. “We’ll give it, say, thirty days.”

“A month?” Nick shook his head. “Aaron’s engagement lasted over a year.”

“But he made a slow study of it,” Ethan said. “You and I will handle it differently. We’ll select the woman we want and make an all-out marital assault. Sweep her off her feet. Then insist on an elopement.”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know…”

“Look at the benefits. No long courtship. No long engagement. None of the parties, receptions or wedding preparations Aaron had to suffer through. Thirty days of concerted effort to land a wife, then it’s back to business as usual.”

Nick considered the notion for a moment and found himself warming to the idea. “It makes sense. But…”

“What’s the matter? Don’t think you can charm a woman into marriage in thirty days?”

Nick sat up straighter. “I’ve got plenty of charm.”

“Can’t maintain it for a month?”

“I can maintain.”

Ethan laced his fingers together and placed them behind his head, sinking deeper into the chair. “I’m not seeing a problem, myself. I’m quite certain I can find a wife in that time. If you don’t think you can handle it—”

“I can handle it,” Nick insisted.

“Well then?”

Nick considered his friend for a moment. “So what does the winner get?”

“Besides a wife in his bed, at his beck and call, every single night?” Ethan nodded toward the whiskey bottle on the desk. “How about a case of the finest Scotch in the city?”

Nick contemplated the bottle, then his friend and the idea he’d suggested. He’d thought about his future for a while now, and having a wife was certainly a part of that. Nick hadn’t envied Aaron and all the wedding rituals he’d gone through, so the quicker the whole thing was over and done with, the better.

And a case of Scotch was always good.

“All right, you’re on,” Nick said, and came to his feet.

Ethan rose from his chair. “So here’s the wager. The first one of us to be married—”

“Legally married,” Nick interrupted.

“—to a woman—”

“A living, breathing woman.”

“—shall be declared the winner.” Ethan glanced at the clock on the mantel. “We’ll give ourselves until midnight, thirty days from today. Deal?”

Excitement stirred in Nick’s belly as he shook his friend’s hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

After all, what could go wrong?

Chapter Two

She’d dreamed about Nick.

Amanda came awake as the first golden rays of sunlight streamed into her room. She rolled over and studied the ceiling. If Cecilia’s Aunt Winnie asked her what she’d dreamed about last night, she wouldn’t know what she’d say. She certainly couldn’t tell the woman the truth.

Settling onto the thick feather pillows, Amanda glanced at the window and the slice of sky visible between the drapes. From all appearances the day was dawning clear and bright. If this weather held, Cecilia would have a perfect June wedding tomorrow. Nothing else was acceptable for a Hastings.

Today would be filled with last-minute wedding preparations. Cecilia and her mother, Constance—and Amanda, simply because she was present—would probably spend hours going over them.

“Damn…” Amanda cursed and pounded her pillow. Wedding thoughts were only slightly more undesirable than recollections of Nick and the dream she’d had last night.

A light rap sounded on her door, and the maid she’d brought with her from San Francisco slipped inside. Dolly was a slight woman, no older than herself, with curly brown hair that frequently sprang from under her white dust cap.

“My Lord, Miss Amanda, you should see what all’s going on downstairs, even at this hour of the morning. Everybody’s hopping like grease on a hot griddle—just like home, when the twins were getting married,” Dolly said, pushing back the heavy, green floral drapes. “And when I walked by Miss Cecilia’s room just now, I couldn’t help but glance inside. Her mother, Miz Constance, was with her. I can’t say for sure, but I think she was crying.”

Amanda pushed herself upright in the bed, her first thought to go to Cecilia and see what was wrong. But tears the day before a wedding weren’t uncommon, and Cecilia’s mother was there to comfort her.

“Are you sorry I brought you down here with me?” Amanda asked.

“Shoot, no,” Dolly declared, grinning broadly. “I wouldn’t miss this for nothing.”

While Dolly selected clothing from the closet, Amanda slid out of bed. Even though the house was filled to capacity with out of town guests and relatives, Constance had given Amanda a comfortable room on the second floor.

Amanda walked to the window, her bare feet silent on the carpet. Outside stretched the mansion’s rear lawn—thick grass, shrubs, flower gardens, a gazebo and towering palm trees.

“My, it’s pretty here,” Dolly said, joining her at the window. “One of the cooks told me it don’t hardly ever rain down here. Wouldn’t mind living in a place like this.”

Amanda smiled. “What else did the cook tell you?”

“Oh, you know, just talk,” she answered. “Mostly about Mr. Nick.”

“Nick?” Amanda’s breath caught. She forced herself to look unconcerned, hoping Dolly hadn’t noticed. “What about Nick?”

The young woman grinned dreamily. “How handsome he is. Lordy, he’s a looker, according to all the maids. And just as nice as the day is long. Good to his mama, generous with the staff.”

Amanda’s heart lurched. She wasn’t surprised to hear any of those things about him.

“I’m plum crazy about him already, and I haven’t even laid eyes on him yet.” Dolly grinned. “’Course, that’s nothing you don’t already know, I’m sure, seeing as how you’ve been friends with him for so long.”

“Actually, I haven’t seen Nick in years,” Amanda said.

Ten years. Since that night in the snow…

“Oh, really? Well, how come?” the maid asked. “I thought your families had been friends since way back.”

Dolly had come to work for the Van Pattons only a year ago, so she didn’t know all the family history. Surprising, given how the servants liked to talk.

“That’s just the way things worked out,” Amanda said, and turned away.

“Now, if you don’t mind me saying so, Miz Amanda, there’s a story here you’re not telling,” Dolly said.

Amanda smiled. Dolly was so intuitive she seldom got away with anything around her. She could have simply said that she didn’t want to talk about it, and the maid would have respected her privacy—and remembered her place. But since Dolly had come to the Van Patton household, Amanda found she was more comfortable talking to her than her cousins, aunt or friends.

So telling her now what had happened ten years ago might be just what she needed to put it in perspective, Amanda decided. She’d have to face Nick over the next few days. Perhaps this would help her prepare—and keep her from making a fool of herself.

“It was the autumn I turned fourteen,” Amanda said. “Only six months before that I’d been shipped off to the Van Patton home by my mother, who could no longer care for me after my father’s death.”

She didn’t need to tell Dolly that she’d been born into a distant, poorly regarded branch of the Van Patton family, or that Uncle Philip and Aunt Veronica had agreed to take her in. Amanda was quite certain the servants had already told that part of the story.

“It was a difficult adjustment for me,” Amanda said, but that didn’t begin to describe the problems she’d struggled with.

Etiquette, table manners, conducting herself with proper decorum. Living up to her aunt and uncle’s expectations. Living down her past.

Everything had been uncomfortable. The opulence of their home, the servants, the family meals.

“On top of that,” Amanda said, “I’d suffered through a growing spurt and shot up five inches. I changed, matured. I had long, ungainly arms and legs I didn’t know quite what to do with. Nothing I wore seemed to fit right.”

“Lordy-me, Miz Amanda, do I remember those days!” Dolly commiserated, shaking her head. “Bosoms and hipbones suddenly poking out. The monthly misery. Being angry and sad and happy all at the same time. And nobody understanding.”

Amanda laughed softly. “I suffered no more than any other young girl blossoming into a young woman. But it seemed worse back then, on top of everything else.”

“So what happened between you and Mr. Nick?”

“We vacationed near Tahoe with the Hastingses. They were strangers to me. The twins were quite young then, but my cousin Rachel was sixteen, Daphne seventeen, both beautiful young women at ease with everything and everybody around them.”

Dolly raised a brow. “Including Mr. Nick?”

She nodded. “Including Nick.”

He’d been nineteen that autumn. The most handsome young man Amanda had laid eyes on in her life. She’d spent the whole holiday too addle-brained to think of anything to say to him, and too tongue-tied to speak even if she could have thought of something to say.

Until that night…

Amanda still remembered how warm it had been, despite the snow that blanketed the ground. A full moon illuminated the forest around the magnificent mountain home the Van Pattons referred to as a cabin.

“It was late. Daphne and Rachel slipped outside and I went with them. We met Nick and two other young men from the neighborhood. It was all quite innocent. A playful snowball fight broke out.”

Amid squeals and laughter, the six of them had scattered into the woods, scooping up the cold snow, hurling it at each other as they darted among the trees. One of the young men had picked up Daphne and tossed her into a snowbank. Another had chased Rachel, threatening the same.

“Then, somehow, I found myself alone with Nick. I threw a snowball at him. He dodged it easily and charged right at me.”

Quick as a wink, he’d swept her feet from under her and sent her crashing toward the ground. But at the last instant he’d caught her, kept her from falling. He’d pulled her upright and held her by both arms as she gripped his sleeves.

Moonlight had shimmered through the pines, casting beams across his face as they stood staring at each other. Breathless, Amanda had marveled at his strength—the strength of a man. Had marveled at his quickness. His agility. His masculinity.

He’d knocked her to the ground, but he’d saved her from the fall just as effortlessly. In that instant Nick Hastings had taught her how a man should treat a woman. With tempered strength, compassion, gentleness.

At once, her arms and legs had seemed to fit her body, and she knew why she’d been saddled with the womanly curves she’d found so uncomfortable. Suddenly, Amanda had been at home in her body, glad for the first time that she was a young woman. Understanding, too, that Nick was a young man.

“The next thing I knew, I was in his arms,” Amanda said, looking out the window at the yard, but seeing that snowy forest instead.

They’d stayed that way for a long moment, gazing into each other’s eyes. Nick’s beautiful green eyes, looking only at her. His fingers clutching her arms possessively…

He’d eased closer. She’d smelled his masculine scent, seen the shadow of dark whiskers on his chin. Only the two of them had existed in the snow-covered world.

“Then he kissed me,” Amanda said.

It wasn’t anything more than a pressing of lips, a brush of bodies. But it had taken Amanda’s breath away, left her shivering and shaking.

“So, what happened then?” Dolly asked, leaning forward.

“The others came crashing through the trees and Nick ran off with them.”

Amanda had stood there alone, knowing she’d never be the same again. She’d fallen in love with him. And he’d ruined her for every other man she met afterward.

“And that was that?” Dolly asked.

Amanda drew in a breath, remembering the aftermath of the moment that had changed her life.

“The next morning when Nick walked into the dining room for breakfast, he took one look at me and walked out again.”

Dolly uttered a disgusted grunt. “You are kiddin’ me.”

“No, I wish I were. After that, if we happened upon each other, he never so much as made eye contact, just turned and left at the sight of me.”

“Humph,” Dolly said, and her expression soured. “I don’t like that Mr. Nick at all, anymore.”

“Rachel mentioned that Nick had asked about me later that night, the night we kissed. Afterward, he wouldn’t even look at me,” Amanda said.

“Why do you reckon he did that?”

“I’m not certain.”

She didn’t know for sure. But she was left with the crushing assumption that he’d learned who, exactly, she was. Not a real Van Patton, only a distant, destitute relative they’d taken in out of the goodness of their hearts.

“And you never saw him again?”

Amanda shook her head. “He never came with the Hastings family when they visited San Francisco. He was in college, traveling in Europe, then working at the family business.”

“What about when you all came down here to visit?”

“I always found an excuse not to come. Aunt Veronica never seemed to realize the situation. She had four daughters to contend with and probably appreciated that I wasn’t one of her problems.”

Dolly shook her head. “A young woman never forgets her first kiss. Especially if it’s from a good-looking older boy like Mr. Nick.”

That was certain. Amanda had never forgotten that night. Never stopped measuring every man she met by her one encounter with Nick. She’d often wondered if he even remembered that night. And if he did, had it meant anything to him?

Surely not what it had meant to her.

“So,” Amanda said briskly, shaking off the memories, “that was that.”

Dolly grunted again. “Still, I don’t like the man. I don’t like what he did. Kissing you, then treating you like you were dirt, or something.”

“It was a long time ago. He’s probably changed.”

“I still don’t like him,” Dolly declared.

Amanda was glad Dolly hadn’t asked any more about Nick. She didn’t want to admit that, after all this time, thoughts of him left her as breathless as they had that moonlit night so many years ago.

“I’d better take a bath,” Amanda said, leading the way across the bedchamber to the bathroom down the hall. She was better off pushing the whole matter out of her mind. She’d grown up, filled her life with things that mattered to her.

Somehow over the next few days, she would get through this wedding and return home. Amanda was confident she could pull it off.

All she had to do was keep her distance from Nick.

Chapter Three

“Damnation…”

Nick slumped against the sink, braced his arm on the cold porcelain and squinted into the mirror.

He looked like hell.

He felt like hell.

But what did he expect after consuming his share of a bottle of Scotch last night?

Pushing away from the sink, he saw that Jackson, his valet, had already filled the claw-footed tub for him, as he did every morning. Nick stripped off his flannel drawers and eased into the water. He dunked his head and threaded his fingers through his dark hair, slicking it off his face.

During his morning bath Nick usually reviewed his day ahead—people he planned to meet, appointments scheduled at his office downtown, things that required his attention. But this morning all he could think about was Ethan and that damn bottle of Scotch. Nick seldom drank to excess. Now he remembered why.

A discreet knock sounded on the bathroom door, and Jackson, a slight man with graying hair, slipped into the room bearing a tray with a cup of coffee, then disappeared just as silently. Nick wasn’t sure how the man always knew his needs so instinctively, but he appreciated it.

Sipping the coffee, Nick washed, dried and dressed in fresh underdrawers and the white sleeveless undershirt Jackson had left for him. When he moved to the mirror once more, he thought he looked a little better. He felt a little better, too.

Yet something nagged at him. Something from last night. What was it?

Dragging the razor across his lathered jaw, he thought back to yesterday. The Whitney project came to mind, but he could recall nothing out of the ordinary with it. Just the usual worry that he stood to lose a large fortune if the deal fell apart.

No, it wasn’t the Whitney project. Nick rinsed the razor under the tap, mentally reviewing the previous day. Finally, he recalled last night in the study. Cecilia had come in. Ethan and he had been left with the bottle of Scotch to finish off. Then Ethan suggested—

“Hellfire.” Nick’s head came up quickly.

He’d made a wager to find a wife in thirty days.

“Damn…!” Nick eyed his reflection sharply. What had he been thinking? He’d bet Ethan a case of Scotch that he would be married by midnight in thirty days—twenty-nine days, now. What the hell was wrong with him?

Grumbling, Nick finished shaving and went into his adjoining bedchamber. Jackson had disappeared, but he’d laid out Nick’s suit for the day. Nick yanked on his white shirt, mentally berating himself for drinking so much, for agreeing to that ridiculous bet.

He stopped in the middle of his room as another thought occurred to him.

Even before last night he’d considered getting married. Having a wife wasn’t such a bad idea. In fact, it would ease his burden in life considerably.

No more young eligible women being pushed in front of him at social events. No more mothers, grandmothers and aunts looking him over, sizing him up as husband material.

Maybe Ethan’s idea had some merit. Nick fastened the button on his left sleeve. Getting the whole wedding thing over and done with quickly had its advantages.

He exhaled heavily. No, it wasn’t right—not for his future wife, anyway. Women lived for that sort of thing. Parties, receptions. Certainly her wedding. He couldn’t rob her of that once-in-a-lifetime event.

He fiddled with the button on his right sleeve. Of course, finding a wife in a month’s time would be a challenge to any man, but who was more up to it than he? He could sweep a woman off her feet as well as anyone.

Finding the right sort of woman would be imperative. Nick had no intention of falling desperately in love. He’d known that for some time now. He’d known, too, that what he wanted was a wife who was compatible.

He’d learned the hard way what “love” could do to a man.

Nick paused. Compatible. Yes, that’s what he wanted. It was what he would look for. Compatibility. If he found that, everything else would fall into place.

The door to his bedchamber burst open. Nick swung around as Cecilia swept into his room, her dressing gown billowing behind her, her hair a mass of tangles.

While never in a thousand years would Nick consider walking into his sister’s or mother’s room unannounced, the women in the house thought nothing of bursting in on him when it suited them. Such as now, when he wore only his drawers and shirt, with one cuff buttoned.

Cecilia stopped, flung out both hands and cried, “It’s over! The wedding is off!” She burst into tears.

“What?” Nick went to her.

Constance dashed into his room, hot on her daughter’s heels. She, too, wore her dressing gown. Her graying hair, woven into a braid, hung down her back.

“Cecilia,” Constance said, “please, calm down.”

“What happened?” Nick asked.

“It’s off! The wedding! Aaron—Aaron never really loved me at all!” Cecilia collapsed into racking sobs against Nick.

He gathered her into his arms and turned to their mother. “What the hell happened?”

“I have no idea. I found her this way in her room a few minutes ago,” Constance said, her eyes wide. She touched her daughter’s shoulder. “Cecilia, dear, you must tell us what happened. Why do you think Aaron doesn’t love you?”

“Because he doesn’t,” Cecilia wailed, lifting her head from Nick’s shoulder. “Cancel the wedding. The flowers, the food, the reception—cancel it all!”

Nick saw his mother sway as over a year’s worth of planning and preparing evaporated before their eyes. He reached out and steadied her. She clamped her hand onto his arm.

“Let’s just all calm down,” Nick said. “First—”

“No, there’s nothing to discuss!” Cecilia said.

“Cecilia, you don’t mean that,” Constance insisted.

“Yes, I do!”

“Nick, do something!”

“Look, both of you—”

“Stop!” Aunt Winnie blasted into the room wearing a ruby-red dressing gown, her hair so neatly styled it looked as if she’d sat up in a chair all night. “I could have predicted this would happen! Cecilia, what did you dream last night?”

Cecilia wailed anew and buried her face in Nick’s shoulder. Constance clutched him tighter.

Winnifred marched over to them. “Someone’s dream predicted this. Nick, what did you dream last night?”

“I—I dreamed I was flying,” he said.

Winnifred’s eyes squinted together. “Were you flying over broken objects?”

“No.” He peered down at his sister, trying to see her face. “Cecilia, you have to tell us what happened.”

“Were you flying with black wings?” Winnifred persisted.

“No.”

“White wings?”

“No. Listen, Cecilia, Aaron loves you. Just last night—”

“He doesn’t!” she insisted.

“Were you shot at while flying?” Winnifred asked.

“No.”

“Were you flying naked?”

“Aunt Winnie!” Nick eased Cecilia away from him and tilted her face up. “Tell me what happened.”

“Yes, dear, tell us everything,” Constance said, finally pulling herself together.

Cecilia sniffed and dragged her hand across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “Last night when Aaron was here he—he said something. I thought nothing of it at the time, but when I woke this morning I realized what it really meant.”

“Did it come to you in a dream?” Aunt Winnie demanded.

“No,” Cecilia said.

“What did he say?” Nick asked.

“He said he—he wanted to cut our honeymoon short.” She collapsed into tears again. “Because of business.”

“Aha!” Constance declared, as if everything were clear to her now.

Nick stared at the two of them. “What the hell’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, Nick, really.” Constance shot him a look and gathered her daughter into her arms.

Cecilia gave Nick a whack on the chest. “Oh, I should have known you wouldn’t understand!”

He plowed his fingers through his hair. “I could understand it if you could explain it.”

“He wants to come back early because of business,” Cecilia said, swiping at her tears again. “That means he cares more about his business than he cares about me. If he really loved me he would want to be with me as much as possible. But he doesn’t.”

“That’s not what it means,” Nick insisted.

“Yes, it is! I won’t marry a man who cares more about his business than he cares about me!” Cecilia clenched her hands into fists. “You don’t understand! Nobody understands!”

“Cecilia—”

“Dear—”

“What did Aaron dream last night?”

“I understand.”

Nick looked up as yet another woman wearing a dressing gown walked into his bedchamber. This one he didn’t know. But Cecilia obviously did because she rushed to her.

And, Lord, this woman was pretty. Tall, with thick brown hair that curled to her waist. She looked vaguely familiar, but Nick was certain he would have remembered her if they’d met.

“I couldn’t help but overhearing as I was going down the hall,” she said, gesturing toward the door and casting an apologetic look at Constance.

“That’s fine,” Constance replied, seeming relieved to have her here. “Go ahead, Amanda.”

“Amanda?” Nick stared harder at her.

She ignored him and took both of Cecilia’s hands. “I just went through this same thing with both my cousins, only weeks ago when they married.”

“Amanda Van Patton?” Nick asked, as a foggy memory crept into his mind.

“It’s last-minute jitters, that’s all,” Amanda said. “Things seem worse than they really are.”

“Amanda Van Patton? From San Francisco?”

“Hush, Nick,” Constance hissed.

“No,” Cecilia protested. “That’s not the case here. It’s not just jitters.”

“Yes, it is,” Amanda told her. “Now, listen to me, Cecilia, and listen well. Aaron loves you. You know that. His asking if he could cut the honeymoon short means just that. Nothing more. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, or that he thinks more about his business than he does you. And he did ask you, didn’t he? He didn’t tell you.”

“Well, yes,” Cecilia said, and sniffed.

“You’ll be his wife,” Amanda said. “His business responsibilities will be your responsibilities, too. Aaron is a smart man. If he really thinks he needs to come home sooner, then you should consider that he has a valid reason.”

A heavy silence fell over the room while the wedding of the season hung in the balance. Cecilia chewed her bottom lip. Nick was certain his mother held her breath. He was having a little trouble breathing himself, but for an entirely different reason.

This woman was Amanda Van Patton? Recollections surfaced in his memory, vaguely matching the beautiful woman who stood in front of him now.

Finally, Cecilia sniffed and said, “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Talk to Aaron. Listen to what he says. Tell him how you feel,” Amanda said. “You two need to do what’s best for the both of you.”

“All right,” Cecilia promised, sniffing again and drawing in a breath. “I will.”

“So the wedding is on?” Constance asked, almost in a whisper, as if afraid of what the answer might be.

Cecilia pushed her chin up. “It’s on.”

“Thank goodness,” her mother declared, pressing her hand to her throat. Then she dashed for the door. “I have a hundred things to do today.”

“I must talk to Aaron right away,” Cecilia declared, hurrying after her.

“What about your dreams?” Aunt Winnie called, following the other two women. “I must know what you dreamed.”

Nick hardly noticed the three women leaving the room as he stared at Amanda, standing in profile before him.

She’d been little more than a child when he’d last seen her. But now she was a woman. All woman.

Beautiful, yes. But more than that. She’d handled the situation with Cecilia with an intelligence and a command seldom found in women. And that made her even more attractive.

“Amanda?”

She turned and gazed up at him with the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Nick’s belly clenched.

“I didn’t recognize you,” he said. “You don’t look as I remember…but I don’t see how I could have forgotten.”

Amanda gave him a half smile and wiggled her finger at him. “Actually, what you’ve forgotten is your trousers.”

She turned briskly and walked out of the room.

Nick looked down at himself, then slapped his palm against his forehead. “Oh, my God…”

Chapter Four

Amanda pushed her bedroom door shut and fell back against it. Heat swept through her, flushing her cheeks and threatening to burn her from the inside out.

Then she giggled. A silly, schoolgirl giggle.

Since agreeing to come to the Hastings home she’d worried and wondered what would happen when she saw Nick again. Would she be so overwhelmed by the sight of him that she’d stutter and stammer? Trip over something? Faint dead away? Would she make a fool of herself by his mere presence?

None of that had happened. Instead, the first time she saw him he’d been in his underwear.

“What happened?” Dolly asked, turning away from the closet. “Why was Miss Cecilia crying?”

They’d heard her sobs on their way to the bathroom down the hall. Dolly had returned to Amanda’s room, leaving her to see what the problem was.

“Everything’s fine with Cecilia. Just last-minute nerves,” Amanda said.

Dolly’s eyes narrowed. “Then what’s so all-fired funny? I can see that smile on your face, plain as day.”

“Nothing,” Amanda insisted, trying again to swallow her grin. “It’s nothing.”

A knock sounded on the door. Amanda’s heart lurched. Was it Nick?

She admonished herself for having the thought. More than likely it was Constance, coming to thank her for helping. Or Cecilia wanting to talk.

She opened the door and her heart thundered in her chest. Heat flooded her cheeks again.

It was Nick.

In the ten years that had passed since she’d last seen him his features had hardened, become more angular. A straight nose, square jaw, dark full brows…the face of a man looked down at her.

He’d grown larger, too. His shoulders were wide and straight, his chest full and muscular. Her nose barely reached his chin.

His dark hair was damp, hanging over his forehead. The white shirt she’d seen him in moments ago was buttoned now, but the tail hung loose and the collar stood open. She glimpsed the fabric of his white cotton undershirt and his coarse, black chest hair curling over the top.

He also wore trousers.

He must have hopped into them and hurried after her, because even now he was pulling up his suspenders.

A moment passed while he just looked at her, as if he’d forgotten what he wanted to say, or perhaps couldn’t bring himself to say it. Amanda didn’t know which. All she knew for certain was that her mouth had grown so dry she couldn’t have answered had he asked her anything.

Then he smiled. It pulled at the corners of his mouth, lifting them ever so slightly.

Amanda fought back her own answering grin and wagged her finger at his legs. “I see you found your trousers.”

Behind her, she heard Dolly approach, and sensed her craning her neck for a better view.

Nick’s smile widened and he glanced down at himself. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize…”

Amanda crossed her arms in front of her. “You didn’t realize? Is that because you routinely have so many women in your bedchamber?”

“Only ones I’m related to.” His grin turned devilish. “Unfortunately.”

The heat inside Amanda increased, spread through her, weakening her knees. The mere presence of this man two feet away called to her, urged her to move closer, as if he somehow held a power over her she could not resist.

And didn’t want to resist.

She took a step backward. She could have sworn he leaned forward, but maybe it was her imagination.

“So, anyway,” Nick said, “I came to apologize for my state of dress just now.”

“The lack of it, you mean?”

He grinned again. “Yes. I hope you weren’t offended.”

“Traumatized beyond recovery,” Amanda declared, hoping the sarcasm in her voice could somehow take the edge off her churning emotions. “I’ll probably have to spend the rest of the day in bed.”

His grin blossomed devilishly and his gaze dipped to her toes, then rose to her face once more in a swift, hot sweep. Amanda’s cheeks burned as his eyes caressed her.

“Well, if there’s any way I can assist you in that, please let me know.” Nick gave her a nod and headed back down the hall.

Amanda just stood there for a moment, watching him walk away. Long legs, straight back, muscular—

“Oh, gracious.” What was she doing? She slammed the door, fanning her face with her hand.

“That was him, wasn’t it?” Dolly asked, her eyes bulging. “That was Mr. Nick?”

All Amanda could manage was a nod.

“Did you see that man’s feet?” Dolly asked, more an announcement than a question. “Land sakes, he has the biggest feet I’ve ever laid eyes on. And you know what that means.”

Amanda’s face flushed anew.

“Help me, Lord,” Dolly beseeched, turning her face upward and clutching her hands to her chest. “I am in love.”

“Only twenty minutes ago you said you didn’t like Nick.”

Dolly turned to her as if she’d lost her mind. “Did you see that man?”

Amanda reined in her own runaway thoughts, forcing herself to regain her composure. “He was pleasant looking.”

“Pleasant looking? Lordy, Miz Amanda, that ain’t the half of it.” Dolly nodded her head wisely. “He was giving you the look.”

“The look?”

“You know what I mean,” Dolly said. “He got an eyeful of you, and he liked what he saw. Believe me, I know.”

Yes, Dolly did know. She had an uncanny ability to read people’s expressions. Her intuition ran far deeper than Amanda’s ever had.

But Amanda didn’t want to think about the possibility that she might be right.

“I came here with the intention of avoiding Nick,” Amanda declared. “That’s what I intend to do. Now, I’d better get on with the day. Maybe I can hurry this wedding along, get it over with sooner, somehow. The quicker I get back home the happier I’ll be.”

“You’re gonna avoid Mr. Nick?” Dolly gave her a knowing look. “We’ll just see about that….”

Nothing like making a good impression.

Nick gave his necktie a tweak as he trotted downstairs, cringing inwardly at what had happened in his room. A beautiful woman in front of him and he’d had no trousers on.

He paused at the bottom of the steps. The situation could have turned out much more embarrassing. In fact, it almost had.

The warmth that had simmered in him since Amanda had sashayed out of his bedchamber increased a little more. She’d had on a dressing gown, buttoned up to her throat and cinched at her waist. But those curves of hers, hips and breasts clearly defined by the flow of fabric, with none of the armor of underwear most women insisted upon wearing to disguise their shape and keep him from seeing their figure…

When he’d gone to Amanda’s bedchamber to apologize, he’d gotten close enough to smell her. He’d almost made a complete fool of himself all over again.

Nick ground his teeth together and hurried toward the breakfast room. Enough of those thoughts. He had a lot to do today, and remembering a beautiful woman like Amanda in her dressing gown would only keep him from thinking straight.

The comfortable, sunny yellow breakfast room was situated at the back of the house. Windows offered views of the grounds. Since it was early, none of the other houseguests were up yet, which suited Nick fine.

A servant in a gray uniform and crisp white apron came in as Nick sat down at the head of the table. She filled his cup from the silver service on the buffet and presented him with the morning newspaper. He told her what he wanted for breakfast and she left again.

Unfurling the paper, he reached for his cup. A fragrance tickled his nose. It wasn’t the coffee.

Amanda stood in the doorway.

In contrast to earlier, her hair was done up atop her head, with little tendrils curling at her ears. She wore a pale blue gown. The skirt was drawn across her front, then lifted high to a bustle in the back. The toes of her high buttoned shoes peeked from beneath the skirt. Leg-o’-mutton sleeves on her jacket tapered to her wrists.

“Good morning.” Nick lurched to his feet, catching the newspaper before it slipped to the floor.

A few seconds passed while Amanda just stood there, as if reluctant to enter the room. Finally, she did.

“I see you’ve dressed for breakfast,” she said.

Nick stepped away from the table, looked down and tapped his toes on the floor. “Shoes and socks this time.”

She glanced down and he could have sworn her cheeks colored. Odd reaction to his feet, he thought.

Nick held the chair to his immediate right, and Amanda lowered herself into it. He lingered for a moment, looking down at her, held captive by the long line of her neck, the loose curls of her fine hair, her slim shoulders and the scent that wafted up.

“Is something wrong?” Amanda asked, turning her head to look back at him.

“No, nothing,” Nick said, fearing that he’d moaned aloud or something. He gave her a quick smile.

She smiled, too—a lovely, shy little smile. Nick dropped into his chair and picked up his napkin. It seemed a good idea to have something over his lap at the moment.

The servant came in again and poured juice at Amanda’s request. She declined a hot breakfast, preferring pastries and fruit from the platter already on the table.

“Don’t let me disturb you,” she said to Nick, nodding toward the newspaper beside his plate.

He was quite certain nothing the Times reported today could be as interesting as the woman seated at his elbow.

“No, it’s all right. I can read later—”

But before he could finish his sentence, Amanda pulled a tiny tablet and the nub of a pencil from her skirt pocket and turned her attention to them.

For some reason, that didn’t quite suit him. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier,” he said.

“It’s all right.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has.” She glanced up at him, then turned back to her tablet once more.

“Yes, it has,” he echoed, and couldn’t help but think he was usually better at talking to women than this.

“How’s your family?” Nick asked.

“Quite well, thank you.”

A few more minutes dragged by.

“Are you planning to be in town long?” he asked.

“No,” Amanda said. “I’ll be going home immediately after the wedding.”

Nick wasn’t certain what he was doing wrong. He’d never had to work this hard at conversation in his life.

Generally, women fell all over him, hanging on his every word, giggling at his jokes. This one, however, didn’t seem to care if he sat here with her or not. Somehow, that made him try harder.

“I guess you’ll help out with all the last-minute wedding preparations today?” he asked.

That got a bigger response from Amanda than he’d elicited so far, but it wasn’t favorable. She cringed, held up her hand as if to ward off the possibility, and gave herself a little shake.

“I fear that will be my doom—destiny,” she said, and turned back to her tablet.

Nick was about to run out of small talk. Maybe if he knew what his competition was, he’d be better able to hold her attention, he decided.

He tilted his head to get a look at the tablet she was writing on, and saw that she’d made a list of some sort.

Probably some litany of the inane things women spent their time on. Nick leaned closer, unable not to. Lord, she smelled delightful. Lavender or something.

Just then Amanda sat back and frowned. She gave a breathy little sigh.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, glancing from her tablet to her face again.

Surely something was amiss. The fact was obvious from the look on her face—the lines of concentration, the frown. How endearing she looked, probably worried over some shopping problem she faced today. Nick wondered at the workings of the feminine mind. The smallest things threw them.

Amanda tapped her pencil against her bottom lip. Nick shifted in his chair.

“I might be able to help,” he offered, dragging his gaze away from her mouth.

She laid her pencil aside. “Do you know anything about concrete?”

He stilled, then leaned back. “Concrete?”

“Yes, concrete. It’s used in construction to form—”

“I know what concrete is.” He looked down at her tablet. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m going to erect a building.”

His frowned. “You’re going to do what?”

“Erect a building.”

Nick just stared at her, not sure he’d understood her correctly.

“I’m going to erect a building,” Amanda said again. “Erect. A. Building. Erect. Are you understanding this?”

“I assure you, I have firsthand knowledge of erec—never mind.” Nick drew in a breath. “Why are you…putting up a building?”

“It’s a long story,” Amanda said, picking up her pencil again, “and not a very interesting one, really.”

The servant came into the room and served Nick his breakfast. He picked up his fork and bit into the eggs.

“Go ahead. Tell me. I’d like to hear all about it,” Nick said. “Are you building a flower shop? A dress shop, maybe? Or one of those hat places where women like to wile away the afternoon?”

“I’m building a refuge for women with children who’ve been abandoned by their husbands.”

Nick froze, staring at her. He knew he should say something, but couldn’t think of a darned thing. Anyway, it was almost impossible to speak with his foot buried so deeply in his mouth.

“All is well. All is going as planned,” Constance announced as she breezed into the breakfast room. “Today I’m going to—”

“I have to go, Mother,” Nick said, rising from his chair, glad to be interrupted before he made an even bigger fool of himself in front of Amanda—though he didn’t know how that would be possible.

“But don’t you want to hear about the wedding plans?” Constance asked, as if she couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t. “The florist is coming over today—”

“I’ll hear about it later,” Nick promised, tossing his napkin onto his plate.

“Oh, well, all right.” Constance turned to Amanda. “We’ll have such fun today. After the florist leaves, the dressmaker will be by for a final fitting.”

“Oh, yes…” Amanda smiled bravely. “Won’t that be fun?”

“Has Cecilia showed you her trousseau yet?”

“Actually, she has. Last night,” Amanda said.

“Well, you’ll want to see it again,” Constance declared. “We’ll do that this afternoon.”

“Lovely…”

The change in Amanda that Constance seemed not to notice didn’t escape Nick. Right before his eyes Amanda appeared to wilt. Her shoulders slumped. Beneath her brave facade he caught a fleeting grimace of distaste.

Was it possible that she was as tired of hearing about Cecilia’s wedding as he was?

He decided to take a chance.

“Actually, Mother,” Nick said, “I’ve already offered to show Amanda around the city this morning.”

Amanda’s gaze came up quickly and landed on him with such gratitude that he thought she might launch herself into his arms.

“Really?” Constance said, clearly disappointed.

Nick looked down at Amanda. “Unless you want to change your mind and stay here today?”

Now she looked as if she might throttle him.

“No!” She jumped from her chair, then forced a smile. “I mean, no. I couldn’t go back on my word after you so generously offered your time.”

“Well, perhaps if you hurry back?” Constance suggested.

“Can’t promise,” Nick said. He cupped Amanda’s elbow and the two of them hurried out of the room.

“Remember there’s the rehearsal tonight,” Constance called. “And supper.”

“Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll be there.” Nick led Amanda through the house to the foyer, stopping at the foot of the grand staircase. “Get your things.”

“You’re serious?” she asked, a little breathless. “You’ll really get me out of this house today?”

“Sure.”

Amanda gave him a saucy little grin. “You, Nick Hastings, are my new best friend.” She turned, hiked up her dress and sprinted up the stairs.

Nick watched her, trying to remember why he’d avoided going to San Francisco for so many years.

He wondered, too, how he was going to keep Amanda Van Patton from going back.

Chapter Five

Amanda dashed into her bedchamber. “I need a hat!”

“What’s got you all fired up?” Dolly asked.

“I’m going out,” Amanda said, crossing to the closet. “With Nick.”

“Oh, my word. I knew it,” Dolly declared, pushing ahead of her and opening the closet door.

Amanda stilled. “It’s nothing like that. He’s simply taking me out to see the city. That’s all.”

Dolly nodded wisely as she pulled down a hatbox from the shelf. “That’s all? Uh-huh. Sure it is.”

Amanda pried off the top and lifted out the wide-brimmed hat, decorated with flowers and bows. She hurried to the mirror over the dresser and pinned it in place.

“Is this the same Mr. Nick that you intended to keep your distance from not an hour ago?” Dolly asked.

Amanda glanced at the maid’s reflection in the mirror. “He’s just being a kind host, that’s all.”

Dolly studied her for a minute, then nodded slowly. “All right. I reckon you know what you’re doing. Besides, can’t say that I blame you, good-looking as he is.”

Amanda checked herself in the mirror one last time, then scooped up her handbag and headed for the door.

“You just watch yourself,” Dolly called.

The sobering words rang in Amanda’s head as she stepped into the hallway. Dolly was right. Nick had hurt her once before. Hurt her deeply, so deeply that some of the pain still lived with her today, all these years later.

“You sure you want to do this?” Dolly asked, walking to the doorway.

Amanda considered the question. Perhaps she should tell Nick that she’d changed her mind and didn’t want to go with him today.

Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

“I’ll be fine,” she declared.

Still, the idea caused her stomach to knot as she walked down the hallway. But the alternative meant spending the day with Cecilia and Constance, discussing the wedding. Amanda couldn’t bear that.

Nor could she bear standing at the window watching Nick drive away without her.

“Be cautious,” Amanda mumbled aloud as she reached the top of the staircase. She could do this, she told herself. She could spend the day with Nick without letting her feelings run away with her. She’d keep herself in check.

Somehow.

Amanda heard footsteps behind her in the hallway and, fearing it was Cecilia or Constance with a dire wedding crisis, hurried down the steps. At the bottom, she stopped. Nick wasn’t there.

Had he already gone? What if he’d changed his mind and left without her?

A cold shiver passed through her. Old memories popped into her mind. Feelings of being young, newly arrived at her aunt and uncle’s mansion. Not fitting in. Not being as worthy as everyone around her. Not being good enough…for Nick.

Amanda gave herself a shake, pushed her chin up and crossed the foyer. Of course she was good enough. Now. She hadn’t been back then, when she was little more than a child, uncomfortable in her new life. But she’d learned how to conduct herself, and she did, in fact, fit in quite nicely.

She opened the front door and stepped out into the bright morning sunlight. The Hastingses’ carriage waited at the foot of the steps and Nick stood beside it. Amanda felt her heart lurch, seeing him there waiting for her.

And because he looked so tall and handsome, Amanda’s own words of warning sped through her mind again. Be cautious.

“All set?” Nick asked.

She stopped beside him. “Thank you for masterminding my escape today.”

He smiled. “What are best friends for?”

Warmth rushed up Amanda’s arm as she lay her fingers in his palm and accepted his assistance into the carriage. He climbed in after her and took the opposite seat.

When the carriage swung out of the driveway and onto West Adams Boulevard, Amanda sat back and tried to relax. It wasn’t easy with Nick so close and her heart beating faster than normal.

“It’s quite lovely here,” Amanda said, peering at the passing neighborhood from beneath her wide-brimmed hat.

The West Adams district had become as famous as New York’s Fifth Avenue, and Nob Hill, where Amanda’s uncle made their home. Wide, tree-lined boulevards, wrought-iron and stone fences fronted the magnificent homes of some of the finest families in the city. Here, standards were set by people of affluence and wealth.

“My parents selected the site and designed the house,” Nick said. “Father died shortly after construction began.”

“He never got to live here?”

“No.” Nick smiled gently. “But the house makes us all think of him.”

Amanda turned back for a last glance at the Hastingses’ home. A three-story structure with scrollwork and gingerbread, a witch’s cap and onion dome, the house was painted ivory with deep blue and maroon trim. It was a grand home, and a fine legacy left by Nick’s father.

“Don’t you want to know where we’re going?” Nick asked.

“Not really,” Amanda said, and smiled. “I trust you.”

“Now you’ve really put me on the spot,” Nick replied, and gave her the same devilish smile she’d seen earlier.

That smile wound its way through Amanda and settled around her heart. If Nick got much more handsome, or smiled at her again, she didn’t know how she’d bear it.

Maybe she shouldn’t have come with him today, she thought again. Regardless of how dreadful another day of wedding preparations sounded, perhaps she should have stayed at the house and endured it, somehow. She’d come to Los Angeles with the intention of keeping her distance from Nick, knowing it was best for her. Dolly had been right to remind her of that. Now here she sat, facing a day alone with him.

Once more, Amanda cautioned herself to stay on guard, lest she lose herself completely in Nick’s green eyes.

They rode in silence for a while, and that seemed to suit Amanda, Nick noted. He studied her face, turned toward the window so she could watch the passing scenery. Unlike so many other women, she didn’t chatter about this or that, or feel the necessity to fill every moment with conversation.

Usually, that would have pleased Nick. Having lived with females his whole life, he thought that, in general, they talked too much. But now, with Amanda, it made him wonder what she was thinking.

Certainly, it wasn’t anything remotely related to what he was thinking.

“Amanda, you’re really very—”

Pretty, he’d intended to say. But when she turned to him and he saw that look of tired expectation on her face, it occurred to him that people probably told her she was pretty all the time—because she was. Nick didn’t want to be like everyone else.

“Smart,” Nick said. “You’re really very smart.”

She smiled then, a genuine, heartfelt smile that Nick was sure she seldom shared with anyone. He was inordinately pleased that he’d elicited it from her.

“The way you took care of that problem with Cecilia this morning,” he continued. “You were the only one who seemed to have a handle on the situation.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “All my wedding experience came in handy for something.”

“What do you do with your time when you’re not being dragged into everyone else’s weddings?” Nick asked.

“Volunteer work, mostly.”

Any other woman would have rattled off a list of clubs she belonged to and decorating projects she’d completed. But Amanda wasn’t just any woman, Nick was fast learning.

“What sort of volunteer work?”

She seemed surprised that he’d asked. “Three days a week I work at churches, preparing meals and serving indigents. Twice a week I visit the orphanage.”

“You enjoy doing that?” he asked.

“It breaks my heart, seeing the children.” Amanda looked at him, tears instantly welling in her eyes.

Nick nearly bolted across the carriage to hold her, comfort her. He’d never felt a desire so strong in his entire life.

Amanda blinked her tears away. “But I can’t stay away.”

“Has this got something to do with that women’s refuge you mentioned earlier?”

“Yes, it does,” Amanda said. “So often women don’t have the skill or knowledge to support themselves and their children when their husband leaves them or passes away. I want to provide a place where they can live while they get on their feet and learn how to provide for their children.”

Nick just stared at her. Good Lord, who was this woman—this Amanda Van Patton? Where had she been all his life?

“That’s an incredible idea,” he finally managed to say.

“Thank you.” She smiled softly, and Nick’s heart melted a little.

For the first time, he wondered what would have happened to his own family if things had been different when his father died. What if he’d been a boy, unable to take over the family business? Would his mother have known what to do? Where would she have gotten the help and guidance she needed to provide for their family?

“So, when are you starting this project?” Nick asked.

“As soon as I raise the money.”

“What about your uncle Philip? He’d support your cause.”

“I don’t want to ask him,” Amanda said. “It’s a losing proposition, never intended to show a dime of profit. I can’t expect him to spend his own money on it. Besides, I’d like the community to get involved, to realize what’s happening and take part in solving the problem.”

“That’s a tall order.”

She sat a little straighter on the seat and gave him a brisk nod. “I have a plan.”

He grinned. “Really?”

“I plan to stage a number of events for San Francisco’s wealthy families to raise awareness of the situation and drum up support. Once I’ve secured the funds, I’ll start on the refuge,” Amanda said. “I need a building large enough to accommodate women and their children. It will require a kitchen, sitting rooms, a playroom for the children, and a place where they can receive medical care. I’ll also require space so the women can receive training for the jobs they’ll need to eventually become self-reliant. I want a safe location near schools, parks and churches.”

She paused and blushed slightly. “Well, that’s my plan.”

“It sounds more like your passion,” Nick said.

She considered his words. “You could be right.”

“Any other passions?” Nick inquired, not sure why he’d asked such a leading question, yet anxious to hear her answer.

“Of course,” she said simply. “But you’ll have to figure those out for yourself.”

“I warn you, I do love a challenge.”

Amanda smiled and gestured out the window. “So, Mr. Tour Guide, what’s that building over there?”

Nick had instructed the driver to take them through Los Angeles and give Amanda a look at the city. He pointed out the building where he had an office, then the shops along Wilshire Boulevard, which were bustling with people, delivery wagons, trolley cars and carriages. Gradually, the driver headed east, also on Nick’s instructions, until the city faded into farmland.

Amanda leaned closer to the window, gazing at the open fields dotted with an occasional farmhouse. “Perhaps now is a good time to ask where you’re taking me.”

“I want to show you my passion. My latest project,” he explained, waving his hand toward the window. “The Whitney project, I’m calling it, named after the man who owned the majority of the land.”

The carriage drew to a stop. Nick exited first, then helped Amanda to the ground.

Miles of farmland spread out around them, rimmed by a range of rugged mountains. Nearby was a dilapidated farmhouse—its roof blown off, windows smashed—shaded by a towering oak.

The driver handed a wicker hamper and blanket to Nick, then flicked the reins.

“Where is he going?” Amanda asked, watching the carriage drive away.

“Taking the team down to the creek for water.”

Amanda glanced around at the vast openness, the isolation. “So we’re out here alone?”

Nick nodded. “Just the two of us…and our passions.”

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.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.