She wanted to know why they hadn’t gotten married, but obviously he was avoiding that question. Lecie gave it time to ramble around in their heads a bit, then asked, “What if she comes back? And you’re married to me.” She stuck her forefinger in her own chest. “I can’t imagine that’s going to go over well.”
Nick shook his head. “She’s not coming back.” There was an eerie finality in his tone. He was so sure, and she wanted to know why.
“How do you know?” she asked. “It hasn’t been that long. Give her another couple of weeks…time to really start missing you…” Lecie giggled to hide her own desire for him.
She couldn’t be happier that Nick and Ginny hadn’t gotten married, for whatever reason. Lecie couldn’t be more grateful for whatever had or hadn’t passed between them that caused the wedding to be called off. But she had to remember, Nick looked heartbroken, and she guessed that he probably was. After all, he’d thought enough of Ginny to ask her to marry him. Lecie had to remember to be sensitive about that.
“Trust me,” Nick said. “You and I, in our arranged and completely platonic marriage…we’re more likely to have a child than see Ginny walk back into the picture.”
Well, whatever had transpired between the two of them, at least for Nick, it appeared to be over.
That was good enough for Lecie. And once she and Nick got to know one another…who knew what could happen?
CHAPTER TWENTY
NICK GUIDED HIS TRUCK INTO the driveway at Lecie’s house. They’d just come from the bank, and he’d been a little more than shocked when the teller issued a cashier’s check for two hundred and fifty grand—made out to him. Nick Matthews. The only time he’d ever seen that much money at once was when he’d gotten the inheritance from Walter.
He looked at Lecie and smiled. They truly did come from different worlds. “I’ve got to get to the restaurant,” he said. “Make sure everything’s running smoothly.”
“You’re coming over tonight, right?” she said in a sweet voice.
They’d already discussed it, and decided it might carry more weight if he appeared to have been staying at the house every spare minute since they’d “met”, even before their whirlwind wedding tomorrow.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ll bring some of my stuff over. I’ll try not to be too late. The kids will probably be tired out after a day at the beach.”
Lecie let out a sigh. “I hope they didn’t run into any paparazzi down there. They like to roam the beaches around here, hoping to spot a celebrity or two.” She looked away shyly, as if almost embarrassed. “And they show a keen interest in my brothers and their wives.”
“But not you?” Nick found that curiously odd.
She shook her head. “My brothers used to be jet-setting playboys.” She laughed as if she were revealing some scandalous secret. “The press has always been interested in their activities. But I’m not sure the media even knows who I am. I was the sheltered one, being the only girl. This is my first trip to America.” She opened the door and stepped down onto the ground.
“Well…” Nick mused, “if they did run into any paparazzi at the beach, I’m sure Tasha gave them hell.” He chuckled. That woman was a firecracker. One he would not want to tangle with.
“Yeah…” Lecie paused and took on a stern look before saying in a perfect American accent, “She don’t take no crap from nobody.” And Nick knew she was imitating Tasha.
Amused, Nick shook his head, and said, “I won’t be late.” He shifted the truck in reverse, and Lecie closed the door. He watched her amble up to the front door. The blue dress she wore showed off her slender body and her long legs. Her hips swayed as she walked. Her blonde hair glistened in the moonlight. No, it wouldn’t be hard to convince anybody that he’d fallen head over heels, madly in love with her. He might end up looking like a cad to some, those who would assume that Lecie was the reason he and Ginny didn’t get married, but better to be thought of as a cad than a loser who’d been left at the altar.
Minutes after Lecie had disappeared inside the house, Nick finally headed out. He knew he shouldn’t be partaking in this scheme of hers—taking money from her like this—but she was a sweet girl and he liked her. And she was entirely too naïve. If he backed out she wouldn’t stop, and worse yet, she might run across some guy who’d do to her what Ginny had done him. Only difference was, Nick was pretty sure that Lecie had a lot more to lose.
One good thing about all this was that her house was technically within walking distance of the Hang Ten. On the drive over, Nick had barely had time to collect his thoughts when he rolled into the crowded parking lot and parked in his spot. The one designated “No Parking”.
The place was busy, as usual. That was good. He went inside, into his office, and sat down behind his desk and began tallying up numbers.
A few hours later, between numerous interruptions from the staff and several phone calls—none of them from Lecie—he deduced that after paying off what he owed his suppliers, the bank fees, and the line of credit, he should have around a hundred grand left. Maybe that’d be enough for the bank to take him seriously and extend a loan for the community center and its land.
Nick pushed away from the keyboard and rubbed his hands over his face. He needed a drink. He got up, glancing at his watch. 4:30. He planned to head out to Lecie’s around seven, so he figured he had plenty of time for the alcohol to wear off.
While heading to the bar, Nick surveyed the restaurant’s dining room. Jerry Parker and his mistress were at a table near the bar. Regulars. They came in once a week, like clockwork. All the way up from L.A. Nick supposed it was because the likelihood of Jerry’s wife showing up here wasn’t good.
Nick strolled over to say hello. “Parker, it’s good to see you again—” Whoa! When Jerry turned to face him, Nick was drawn instantly to the shiner taking shape around the guy’s eye. “You’ve had a little mishap, I see,” Nick said, shaking Jerry’s hand and nodding to the mistress.
“Some broad clocked me down at the beach.” Jerry laughed, like it was no big deal. “She was a little irate that I was taking pictures of her kids.”
That might’ve come across as a little perverse, except that Jerry was a freelance photographer who made his living stalking celebrities around southern California. “You’d better take care of that,” Nick said, and walked away. His cell phone rang as he glanced over his shoulder and gave Jerry one last piece of advice, “Put a steak on it.” He laughed, reaching for the phone on his belt clip. He leaned against the bar, looked at Pete and said, “Give me a draft, would you?” Then he clicked the call on and laid his cell against his ear. “Nick Matthews.”