The Nicci Beauvoir Collection: The Complete Nicci Beauvoir Series Page 9

  I settled against him, getting comfortable. “Oh, my father is difficult to describe. He keeps very much to himself. He’s not good with people. I think he finds people something of an annoyance. Sometimes, I don’t feel I know him at all.”

  He took a sip from his champagne. “I felt the same way about my mother. I never really got to know her. She was always a mystery to me as a child.”

  “Are you like her?”

  “Hard to tell. I don’t remember enough about her. Just her laugh and her smile, that’s all. She drank a great deal and was never very happy. When she died, my father didn’t know what to do with me. That’s when I ended up with my Aunt Flo.”

  “Where’s your father now?”

  “He died a few years ago. Somewhere in Thailand, I think. They buried him at sea. I never saw him much. When he did visit, he brought loads of presents and exotic trinkets from all around the world. He would stay for a day or two, and then he’d be off on another ship to some far away place. I never really got to know the man. I think in my entire life, we only spent a few weeks together.” I sat up and turned to look at him, but he kept facing straight ahead. “When he died, they contacted me by telegram. A few weeks later, a small box arrived containing his belongings. All he had was a wallet with some money and a few pictures of me.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been difficult.”

  “No pity. I don’t use my past as a crutch, only as an inspiration. The first is too easy to do. The second takes more imagination.” He got up from the sofa and headed for the kitchen. “Want your champagne?”

  “Yes.” I kicked off my high heels and massaged my sore feet.

  He returned with the bottle and my glass.

  “My father says I have too much imagination,” I disclosed, taking my glass from him. “He thinks I spend too much of my time thinking up stories and not enough living in the real world.” I took another long sip from my drink.

  He put the bottle on the coffee table and took a seat next to me. “What kind of stories?”

  “Oh, just stories that haunt me and won’t leave me alone until I write them down. It’s really a mental illness, I think. It’s silly to even talk about it.”

  “Never feel silly about a passion, Nicci. Sometimes I feel that if I don’t get out and put something on a canvas, I’ll explode. I’ve never felt more alive than when I paint.”

  “Writing is not a practical way to make a living. It would be nice to live such a life, but it’s not for me. I have to concentrate on starting my nursing career and getting ahead in the world.” My head was starting to swim from the champagne and the words were starting to slip out before I could stop them.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Then what?”

  “Then I’ll make some new goals for myself. Perhaps go to graduate school and teach or something.” I shrugged. That was too far into the future to think about now.

  “Eventually, we all have to come to terms with what we are. One day, my dear Nicci, you will have to come to terms with what you are. And I’m afraid you will find that you are not a nurse.”

  I glared at him. “Are you saying you don’t think I would be a good nurse?”

  “No, not that.” He shrugged. “I’ve encountered many different people around the world, and found that there are basically two types of personalities. The majority of individuals just exist…like the accountants, lawyers, and Sammys of the world. Then there are the people who create, like artists and writers. Unfortunately, to express yourself you have to understand who you are. It took me a long time to find myself. I think you are still searching, Nicci. But you must never be one of those who just endures, because you will never be happy.”

  “Are you happy, David?”

  He stiffened next to me. “I’m happy right now, with you.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You’re avoiding the question.”

  “No, that’s the truth. Happiness, in my opinion, changes with the setting of the sun. It’s never constant. It’s an achievement to strive for, but something you can never maintain. It all depends on the moment.”

  “Or the person.” The words just slipped out.

  David sat in silence sipping his drink. I repositioned myself on his chest and settled my head over his heart. He held me close and started running his fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat. My head was swimming in champagne and within seconds, I was asleep.

  ***

  I awoke to find the lights burning brightly all around me. There was a throbbing in my temples and I had to trace my thoughts to remember where I was. I was still wearing my clothes and David had placed a blanket over my legs. That was a good sign, I decided. Our two highball glasses of champagne sat unfinished on the coffee table, and my shoes were on the floor where I had left them. I looked to a clock on David’s desk; it was almost four in the morning.

  A sudden flash of movement from the studio made me turn my head.

  “No, don’t move. Stay where you are on the sofa.”

  David stood at his easel. His shirt was gone and he had changed out of his tuxedo and into a pair of jeans that were covered with paint. His chest and arms were paint-spattered and there was even paint in his hair. He moved behind the canvas like a man possessed. He was bobbing and weaving and mumbling incessantly to himself.

  “I have to move. I have to find some aspirin.” I sat up. “What did you do? Slip something in my drink and ravage me while I was asleep?”

  He stepped away from the canvas and came into the living room, taking a seat on the coffee table across from me. I was keenly aware of his naked chest before me.

  “I only do that to cheap, lurid woman. You remain intact,” he loomed closer, “for now.”

  “I can’t believe I fell asleep like that.” I nodded to his studio. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m painting you. Come and see.” He stood up and offered me his hand.

  I got to my feet and immediately regretted the change in altitude. “I think I would rather you had ravished me,” I joked, putting my hand to my head to allay the pounding.

  “When you fell asleep, I have to admit, you did dent my ego slightly. I thought I had enough charm to at least keep my dates awake. After I put the blanket on you, this idea just possessed me.”

  “What idea?”

  “This idea.” He settled me on a stool in front of his easel. “I’ll get your aspirin.”

  I directed my attention to the canvas. It was as though I were seeing another side of myself. I—or someone who looked like me—was lying on the sofa dressed in a long black off-the-shoulder gown. Black heels were resting on the floor next to a half-empty bottle of champagne and two glasses. The woman’s auburn hair was fanned out about her head, and one hand hung off the sofa, barely touching the champagne bottle on the floor. Her other hand was resting across her stomach. Her features were similar to mine, but her nose appeared longer, her mouth fuller, and her chin jutted out slightly more than my own.

  He returned, producing two white pills and a glass of orange juice. “What do you think?”

  “You work fast. I wasn’t asleep for more than a couple of hours.” I took the pills and downed the juice.

  The lines around his eyes were deeper and dark circles lay beneath. I brushed away a comma of brown hair that had fallen into his eyes.

  “You need some sleep,” I whispered.

  He tilted closer to me. “Thank you,” he softly said.

  When he kissed me gently on the lips, a surge of excitement swept through my belly. I returned his kiss, giving myself over to my desire. His kisses took on an urgent, more desperate quality, as his hands started eagerly caressing my curves.

  Then he suddenly stopped and pushed me away. “I need to take you home,” he mumbled.

  A pang of disappointment rose in my gut. “I’m sorry. I got carried away,” I professed, hoping to relieve the uncomfortable tension suddenly between us.

  “It’s not you.” He kis
sed my forehead. “It’s me. There is nothing more I would like to do than carry you into that bedroom and….” He put his arm around me. “I just feel awkward. For the first time in my life, I feel apprehensive about making love to a woman.”

  I rolled my eyes and exclaimed, “I’m sure that has never happened before!”

  ***

  The ride home was filled with small talk about the quiet of the city this early in the morning, and the success of the party the night before. It didn’t take long to reach my house on Jackson Avenue. He pulled into the front drive and turned off the engine. When David looked over at me, he reached for my hand.

  “I just want you to know, I tried for some time to forget about you. I kept telling myself that you didn’t fit into my life. It obviously didn’t work. I guess what I’m just trying to tell you is that there are no guarantees with me.”

  “I didn’t expect any,” I confided. “David, we’ve been over this before. I’m sure your old life is probably too tempting to give up.” I climbed from the Jeep without giving him another look.

  I started down the shell-covered drive toward my house. His footfalls came rushing up, and I turned to meet his gaze.

  “Was I wrong to come to you last night at the party?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.

  “No, you weren’t wrong. It was a magical evening. For one brief moment you were right; there was no Sammy, no Eddie, no responsibilities, and no tomorrow. Now the sun is coming up,” I motioned to the yellow light breaking over the trees, “and you must return to your benefactress. So if you will excuse me, I will go upstairs and turn back into a pumpkin.”

  I left him and went to the porch steps.

  “You’re making me feel very guilty.” He raised his voice. “I had no intention of taking you home, or showing you my work and telling you all the things I did. I didn’t plan any of this. I saw you at that party, dancing with that little twit, and I knew I could never stand by and let you be with him. I wanted you to be with me.” I didn’t turn to face him, but could hear his feet coming closer. “I didn’t set out looking for this. I was content enough with my way of life; no strings and no emotional attachments. Then you come along.”

  When I felt his breath on the back of my neck, I was determined not to face him. “It doesn’t matter, David.” I headed up the steps. “I don’t fit into your life, just as you don’t fit into mine. Good night.”

  I reached the door and put my key in the lock, but before I went inside, I glanced back. He stood with the early light behind him and a wide grin on his face. It was as if he found my attempt at cool nonchalance amusing.

  “What in the hell do you find so funny?”

  “You are a wonder. Is there ever a second that you let down that guard of yours?” he asked, watching me from the bottom of the steps. “Even when I kissed you last night, I could feel your mind wondering whether my intentions were honorable. What would people think? How you would explain me to your father? I just want to know, Nicci, do you ever just give yourself over to the complete passion of a moment?”

  “What was I supposed to do? Jump into bed with you? Is that what you mean?”

  He came bounding up the steps to me. “I didn’t say that. I just think you need to stop being so damned practical.”

  “Are we talking about being practical or being a prude? I think you are confusing the two.”

  “I’m not talking about sex. Or do you think that’s all I want from you? If I just wanted sex from you, Nicci, I would not have been painting you with your clothes on. Or are you upset because I didn’t try to have my way with you?”

  “Upset! Boy, do you have an inflated opinion of yourself. I’m not desperate enough for your kind.”

  He grabbed my arms and pinned them to my sides. Forgetting the time of day, he shouted, “Stop it! What are you trying to do? Drive me away? Is that what you want?”

  Then he took a deep breath and let go of my arms. I quickly turned and started to open the door when he banged his fist against it.

  “Don’t you dare walk in there and think we are over. I won’t go away. I know you like being around me even if you won’t admit it.” Without another word, he headed down the steps.

  I ran after him. “Don’t flatter yourself. I won’t be waiting for you. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped himself. Instead, he pulled me to him. His face was inches from mine.

  “I don’t give up on anything I want.” He let go of me with a jolt, turned around, and marched away.

  I rushed inside, slamming the front door. I fell back against the door, feeling like a criminal who had just reached sanctuary. I heard the spray of gravel, as his car sped angrily out of the drive.

  My mind raced but my thoughts quickly clouded over with images of him. All I could think about was how he had kissed me. With every kiss, came the comparisons to Sammy. Had he held her like that? Kissed her like that? Said all those words of love to her? Was this merely an elaborate seduction to win another benefactress, so that he would have the means to go on with his painting? Then, I thought about the portraits he had done of me. I had seen the transition in his work. The paintings of me had shown greater insight and depth. Everything he had painted before seemed blurry and childish.

  I slumped against the door feeling completely drained. “You aren’t the first woman to be baffled by a man,” I muttered, hauling my tired carcass to the stairs. “You’re not the first and you won’t be the last.”

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, the persistent ringing of my iPhone woke me from a fitful sleep. Bright sunlight peeked from underneath the blinds, as I reached out to the bedside table for my phone. According to my phone, it was a little after ten in the morning.

  “What?” I said angrily into the speaker.

  “We are sleeping late today, aren’t we?” Colleen’s voice grated against my ear. “I would have thought you would have been up by now, considering you left the party so early. I had a great time by the way. Guess what happened to me?” She gave a loud squeal. “Eddie and I—”

  “I know, Colleen. I know about you and Eddie.” I rubbed my eyes, trying to get them to focus.

  “How do you know?” She sounded disappointed. “Well, you don’t know all the details.”

  “I don’t want to know all the details.”

  “What do you mean you don’t want to know? Here I call you up all excited that it has finally happened to me, and you don’t want to know. Who the hell else am I supposed to tell? Mom?”

  “Now that I would pay to see.”

  “The first time you did it with that medical student of yours, you called me the next day and told me about it. I was excited for you then. Why can’t you be excited for me now, Nic?”

  “I called you to give me a ride home from Roger’s apartment. I didn’t call you to give you the details.”

  Roger, I couldn’t even remember his last name, had been my first lover. He was a freshman in medical school and I had just started my first semester in nursing school. I found him to be smart, funny, and attractive. Unfortunately, so did a lot of other girls. I thought I was giving him something special. He was of the opinion he was doing me a favor. We didn’t last through the first semester.

  Colleen sighed. “Well, whatever. Eddie was wonderful. He was so sweet and concerned about me. It was like a fairy tale.” That was the problem with Colleen. She did most of her thinking in terms of Mother Goose.

  “I’m happy for you, Colleen. You and Eddie make a sweet couple.”

  “Really! This is so great!” She was squealing again. “Hey why did you leave so early last night? I looked for you after. Val said you and Uncle Bill had gone.”

  “Yeah, we didn’t want to stay out late.” I remembered Eddie had seen David and me in the parking lot. “Did Eddie say anything to you last night about me?” I added.

  “Oh, jealous now, are we? You had plenty of opportunities to grab him for yours
elf. In fact, I used to think he was quite taken with you, but now I know better since I am a woman of the world.”

  “Colleen, I’m not jealous. I’m very happy for you. I hope you were smart enough to use condoms.”

  “Oh, that.” Her voice faded. “I’m sure Eddie took care of that…I think.”

  “Well, that was stupid.”

  “Who cares? Last night was heaven.” She gave a long sigh. “I saw you dancing with that gigolo guy, by the way. He’s a real good dancer.”

  Panic tightened my throat. I didn’t need to have Colleen starting any nasty rumors about us. “Yes, David, that’s his name. He’s a nice guy. I wanted to ask him about the painting I saw at your house.”

  “I’m sure you badgered him with questions about art. I heard Sammy got sick yesterday and that’s why she didn’t go. Eddie told me the only reason that guy was dancing with you was because Sammy told him to only dance with a few select people. You were one of them.”

  I sat up in my bed. “Colleen, are you telling me Sammy does not consider me a threat with her man?”

  Colleen started laughing. “You? Honestly, do you think Sammy would be fool enough to be jealous of you, Ms. Perfect? As if you would ever run off with the likes of Mr. I-think-I’m-too-good-for-everyone pretty boy.” She took a breath. “I just hope you didn’t bore the guy to death.”

  So, the illusion was complete. No one would ever consider me crazy enough to take up with David. I had forgotten the one simple rule when dealing with people: They will only believe what they want to believe.

  I tried to keep the smile out of my voice. “Thank you, Colleen. You’ve just made my day.”

  ***

  I knew my father would not be under the same illusions as the rest of New Orleans. I felt it best to confront him as soon as he came home from work.

  He had not yet removed his tie and was starting to go through the mound of mail on his desk when I knocked on the door to his study. He looked tired and, as I got closer to his desk, I noticed the ketchup stain on his tie.

  “Ate lunch at the office again?” I pointed to his tie.

  “We ordered hamburgers,” he offered, pulling his reading glasses out from his shirt pocket.