The Red Diary Page 19

  Sadie grinned. "So you are fooling around with him. And this is a secret?"

  She didn't think of it as a secret exactly, but she wasn't prepared to let her father know she was seeing John Armstrong's son. It might open a very old can of worms that would be better left closed. For now, anyway. "Something like that." Sadie tilted her head. "And just how are things with your hunky painter? You seem much happier than the last time we spoke."

  ''Things are ... better." She couldn't hide her smile. "So I'm not in trouble anymore for sending him to your house?" Sadie teased.

  "You're completely forgiven."

  "That puts my mind at ease." The older woman winked, then reached for the phone. "Now, who do you need?" "Phil." Even as Lauren spoke his name, though, his voice echoed up the hall.

  "There he is now." Sadie returned the receiver to its cradle, and Lauren had already started toward the sound

  of Phil's voice when Sadie added, "Oh, and Lauren?" 'When she looked back, the other woman's eyes twinkled with mischief. "You have a good time with that painter, and kiss him once for me."

  "Now, Sadie," she replied, "you know Nick's got nothing on Arthur."

  Sadie tilted her head, mulling it over. "You're right. But do you think I could convince Arthur to get a tattoo?"

  Lauren laughed as she turned to go find Phil, yet it faded upon recalling the unpleasant task at hand. She met up with him in the hallway with one of the construction supervisors.

  "Hi there," Phil said. He wore his usual casual clothes-khakis and a button-down shirt-and looked neat as a pin.

  She tried to force a smile, but didn't succeed. "Hi, Phil. Craig." Then she focused on Phil. "Could I see you for a minute?" He held his arms open in his general fun-loving way.

  "I've got one right now. Whatcha need?"

  "Alone."

  He arched one eyebrow. "Are you propositioning me, Pet?" He followed it with a wink that nearly made her ill under the circumstances, and Craig laughed along with him.

  "Hardly," she murmured, and the simple word killed Phil's smile.

  "Oooh, this sounds serious." He held out an arm in the direction of his office door a few steps away. "After you."

  He closed the door, then sat down behind his desk, steepling his fingers in front of him. She took a chair on the other side, although she couldn't quite believe she was here, doing this.

  "What's wrong?" he asked. "You're cheating on Jeanne."

  His calm expression never changed, but he hesitated a second too long. "Why on earth would you think such a thing?" "Because I saw you," she lied. "At your party. You should've closed the door."

  Across from her, he let out a long-suffering sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. It fell perfectly back into place. "You're right. I should've. I was far too careless."

  Her heart broke a little at the admission. Maybe she'd been hoping against hope that Nick was wrong. "Phil, how could you?" He met her gaze. "Don't take this the wrong way, Lauren, but I'm not sure this is any of your business.""I consider you and Jeanne both friends; how can I not make it my business?"

  She leaned forward, her heart beating too hard. "Does Jeanne know?"

  "Of course not!" he snapped. "It would kill her." Lauren sighed, at a loss.

  "Why are you doing this?" He got to his feet and came around the desk, settling in the wheeled chair next to hers. Rolling it to face her, he took her hands in his. "You have such a good, pure heart, Pet-"

  "Don't call me that anymore." Each time he said it now, it bit into her a little more deeply, making her feel more like an object than a person.

  His eyes widened in disbelief as he let her hands drop.

  "You're taking this too seriously."

  "It is serious. And right now, it's making me sick to even look at you." She got to her feet, ready to leave, almost sorry she'd come.

  Phil stood, too. "Look, it's not like I'm the only man in the world who gets a little on the side."

  Her blood boiled at the remark. "Maybe not, but I didn't know you were as smarmy as all the rest." And for the fIrst time since Nick had told her about Phil this morning, she found herself wondering about every time he'd ever touched her, or called her Pet. She'd thought they shared a teasing, harmless relationship maybe it wasn't. She didn't even want to think about that aspect of this situation, so she concluded by saying, "Don't do this anymore, Phil," then turned to go.

  "Lauren, wait."

  She stopped and looked back. "You're not gonna tell her, are you?"

  She shook her head. "Not now, anyway. But think about your marriage, and if it means anything to you, start respecting it."

  The conversation with Phil left her shaken as she swung through a McDonald's drive-thru to pick up the lunch she'd offered to bring back for Nick. She still couldn't believe this was Phil, the same man she'd known and worked with for the past six years. She also couldn't believe she'd confronted him so boldly-it wasn't really like her-but she was glad she had. The meeting hadn't exactly felt successful, but she hoped it would at least make him reevaluate his actions.

  She returned to the house to find Nick making a lot of progress on the paint job. He insisted on eating his Big Mac and fries while he worked, claiming he was on a roll and didn't want to stop. Although he did take the time to talk about a new trim color while he painted, telling her he'd finish the base coat this afternoon and would be starting the trim tomorrow morning. Retreating inside to let Nick concentrate, she wished her day had been as productive as his, and decided to get some work done lest she fall behind, too. Heading to her office, she dug into this week's invoices-but frankly, she still found productivity hard to come by. Her mind swirled with memories of her night with him. and with the continued shock of discovering Phil was cheating on Jeanne. Suddenly, nothing in her world felt quite like it had yesterday.

  Late that afternoon as she still struggled to get something done, a knock came on her back door, and as she descended the stairs, she heard Nick's voice.

  "Lauren ?"

  Crossing the family room, she found him leaning around one of the French doors; she'd stopped locking them when he was around. As usual, the mere sight of him made her heart tingle. "Hi."

  "Here's that color." He stepped inside, holding out a paint sample. "It's called China doll."

  She glanced at the card between his fingers and said, "It's fine. Thanks for picking it for me."

  Nick only shrugged. "It's my job, Princess. And I'm getting ready to leave, so I'll see you tomorrow."

  She bit her lip in response to the nagging tug on her heart. She couldn't quite let him go without asking ... "Nick, I just have to know ... when you come back tomorrow, how will things be?"

  He peered into her eyes and lowered his chin. "You mean will it be like before? Will I just come here to paint your house and push up your skirt?"

  She nodded.

  His hesitation was brief but obvious before he softly said, "No," then lowered a kiss to her forehead.

  A knot of worry still gathered in her center, though, and it must have shown on her face, since he added, "Trust me."

  He'd asked that of her before, and again the words made her believe in him. It wasn't that she thought Nick Armstrong was the most sincere guy in the world, or the most reliable, but she didn't think he lied to her about things. And after last night and this morning, she thought she might finally have what she'd yearned for with him ... a real connection.

  "Good work tonight, buddy."

  Davy smiled, waving as Nick left through the screen door. They'd just spent two hours rehanging the gutter on the front of the house, and though Davy knew he hadn't done much more than hold things up and hand Nick tools, he liked when his brother said things like that. They'd just beat the dark, then drunk iced tea in the kitchen. Now he plopped on the couch, pleasantly tired.

  "Don't get too comfortable, you need to take a shower."

  He looked up to see Elaine's hands planted on her hips, a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She'd been in the
backyard working in her flower beds, and the front of her T-shirt was dirty, too. "Looks like you need one worse than me," he said with a grin. She laughed, and her eyes twinkled as she threw a gardening glove at him. He caught it as she said, "All right, maybe I'll go first." Snatching the glove back, she headed toward the rear of the house; he heard her tossing her tools in the wooden box Nick had built for that kind of stuff on the deck.

  Glad for the reprieve, he turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, but couldn't find anything good. The past few days, in fact, he couldn't find anything that held his attention. And when he'd abandoned the TV and tried to read, he couldn't concentrate on that, either, even though he did want to know what happened to Jim Hawkins and the pirates. Maybe he was still worried about Dad, even though Nick had been right-everything seemed fine now. Or maybe he was thinking about the floral department at Albertson's and Daisy Maria Ramirez.

  "Oh, and Davy." He looked up as Elaine stuck her head back in the room, holding out the newspaper. "I meant to show you this earlier. Thought you might be interested."

  "What is it?"

  "An article about that girl at Albertson's." His breathing stopped; his chest burned. "You know, the one in the wheelchair?" He nodded. "Yeah, I know."

  'They did a nice feature on her in the People section."

  Yet Elaine frowned. "She has spina bifida."

  "What's that?"

  "It's a spinal cord problem, something that happens at birth. The article explains it. Wanna see?"

  He nodded, too eagerly, he feared. But she didn't seem to notice, just tossed the paper on the couch next to him. He waited 'til she was gone to pick it up, and when he did, his heart sizzled all over again, the warmth spreading through his chest. There she was, Daisy Maria Ramirez, and the picture was even in color. She sat at her table next to some flowers, smiling. He hadn't seen Daisy's smile before, and he knew instantly he'd give anything to have her smile at him like that.

  Feeling more private once he heard the shower down the hall, he looked at her a long while, then read the article. Daisy was twenty-two years old and lived in Clearwater with her parents and younger sister. Her spinal cord hadn't grown right before she was born, so she'd never been able to walk. Before Albertson's, she'd worked for a florist for three years, but the place had just gone out of business.

  The reporter described her as a shy, quiet girl with a lovely smile. Davy agreed about the smile, and the shy, quiet part didn't surprise him. She was just like him and Dad-different.

  She loved arranging flowers, the article said, and also liked reading books and visiting the beach. His heart swelled at that last part, since it meant they had things in common. He felt like he knew her far better than he did, or like he wanted to know her, like maybe if they could both get over their shyness, he'd have things to say to her-important things. The writer concluded with, Watching Daisy create a floral arrangement is a gift to the eye, and Davy wished he'd thought of that, since it was so true.

  He was still staring at her picture when Elaine's voice echoed from her bedroom. "Shower's free, Davy. You need to get cleaned up and ready for bed."

  "All right," he yelled back, then carried the paper down the hall into his room, stooping to slide it under his bed on top of the games there.

  Running the soap over his chest beneath the warm water a few minutes later, he could still see Daisy's smile in his mind. How could he ever get her to smile at him that way? He ran down scenarios in his head, from Hot enough for ya? to Nick's Lookin' good, as usual, but he knew none of that was going to work. Not even Pretty flowers~e just didn't have the courage. He wanted to think she'd see in him what he saw in her, that after one hello she'd understand they were kindred spirits, that they knew the same things, felt the same feelings, but what if that didn't happen? What if he opened his mouth and she gave him a familiar look-the you're-weird look or the sleeping-puppy look?

  He kept thinking about the article. It was special, he thought, to have a newspaper devote half a page to you, and he bet she felt proud, maybe if even a little embarrassed. That's how he would feel.

  After putting on his pajamas and saying good night to Elaine, he went into his room and pulled the paper back out and thought some more about making Daisy smile. And as he turned out the light and lay down to sleep, an idea began to form in the back of his mind.

  He'd once known a pretty girl in school named Lucy, and he'd always pictured her surrounded by black night sky and sparkling stars, like the song "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds." But he didn't think of Daisy like that couldn't, in fact-because Daisy wasn't dark like nighttime. Daisy was sunlight and flowers. Even her name was a flower of the simplest, prettiest flowers. Daisy was spring and summer, color and texture. She made him feel like the first moment when the sun came out from behind the clouds and hit your face.

  He was going to make her something, he decided, something that said everything he couldn't say; he was going to make her a gift. He wasn't sure what exactly it would be yet, but it had to be perfect. Because watching her arrange flowers was a gift for his eye, and he wanted

  to give her something just as special in return.

  Mornings were Nick's favorite time for working those few short hours before the tropical heat came on full blast. He often got more done in that span of time than he would for the rest of the day.

  The following morning, he felt even more energetic than usual. The midsummer humidity hadn't yet set in; a brief overnight rain had cooled the air. He liked the new trim color he was putting on Lauren's house. And it was Friday. Despite himself, he wondered if he'd end up back in Lauren's bed or if they'd part ways 'til Monday. There were suddenly new things to weigh. He'd never meant to promise her things would be different now, but when she'd asked, he somehow couldn't bring himself to disappoint her. Then again, promising not to use her for sex hardly equaled a commitment, so maybe he could manage this. Maybe he could sleep with her, have fun with her, enjoy her, without things getting too heavy. That was the plan anyway.

  He went on with his work, focusing on applying an even coat of paint to one of the twin columns that supported Lauren's front awning while he tried not to think too much about the woman inside. Until she opened the front door, that is, a glass of lemonade in her hand Her drawn-back hair revealed delicate cheekbones, and she wore white shorts that showed off tan legs. Who was he kidding-be had been thinking about her, whether he liked it or not.

  "I just made this. Thought you might like something other than water."

  He lowered his paintbrush. "Thanks." He took the drink from her, their fingers brushing lightly, then drained half of it in one long gulp.

  An uncomfortable silence quickly grew, and he wondered if his shortness was scaring her, making her think things had gone back to the way they were before, despite what he'd said yesterday. He could still do that, he told himself, still act like an asshole, and it would likely be a smart move.

  "Well"-she shifted her weight from one foot to the other "if you want more, it's in the fridge. I'll leave the door unlocked." "Okay," he said as she turned to go. Then, "Wait." Her blue eyes returned to his and, for some reason, it paralyzed him. I missed you last night. The words popped into his mind, but he couldn't say them. Even if he had lain in bed wondering what she was doing, wishing she were next to him.

  So instead, he grabbed her hand and stepped up close to her, lowering his mouth onto hers for a smooth, lingering kiss. She might like talking, but he was still more comfortable kissing.

  When it was done, she bit her lip, looked uncertain, and he tried to keep his face emotionless. Yet when she finally started to leave again, he heard himself say, "You like the water?"

  She stared at him blankly. "Water?" ''The ocean? Sailing?"

  She blinked, still looking uncertain. "Yeah. I mean, of course."

  "You wanna do that tonight? Take a sunset cruise on one of the sailboats at the marina?"

  The small smile that lit her face warmed his soul in an enti
rely unexpected way. "I'd like that."

  "Okay," he said, a little dumbfounded at how easy it was to make her happy.

  When the door closed behind her, he drank the rest of the lemonade, lowered the glass to the front porch, then got back to work. But what the hell had he just done?

  He'd just asked Henry Ash's daughter out on a date, that was what.

  The first time he'd looked into Lauren's eyes, all he'd been able to see was Henry, and privilege, things that should've been his. Yet when he looked at her now, it was different-and the truth was that this had been about more than just sex since ... well, since he'd first had sex with her. A big part of Nick couldn't quite believe he'd just asked her out-this woman he had no intention of having a relationship with-but despite himself, another part of him welled with anticipation.

  "To Sadie," Lauren said, lifting her wineglass as she gazed into Nick's sexy eyes.

  "Sadie ... at Ash?" he asked.

  They lounged across the long, narrow bow of a sleek schooner while it meandered from the bay into the open Gulf waters. The cries of seagulls competed with the sound of the waves shushing against the boat's hull.

  Lauren nodded, then cast what she suspected was a sheepish smile. "If Sadie hadn't called you to paint my house, we wouldn't be here."

  "Guess not," he agreed, clinking his stemmed glass with hers.

  "I love this," she said, letting her eyes wander out over the ocean as the boat bobbed gently through the evening swells. But I love this night is what she really meant. I loved boarding this boat with you, loved knowing without being told that you arranged for us to have it all to ourselves, other than the captain. I love looking into your dark eyes right now and knowing we both want to be here.

  Something in her world had shifted when he'd arrived at her door looking startlingly rugged in a dark burgundy T-shirt and blue jeans. Only as they'd embarked on their date did she realize this was truly turning into romance, the sort that seared her heart in a much deeper way than mere sex ever could. She still didn't know if it would last, and she was afraid to even begin thinking about the future, but she'd begun to believe the pain she'd endured with Nick had been worth it because it'd somehow brought them here. And here was a good place, at least for the moment.