Nightchild

Chapter 18

  

As much as she hated to admit it, Blythe's ravenous desire for food far outweighed the desire she had to hide from Nate Stevens. She realized it even more sharply when stepping from the shower, the unmistakable aroma of frying bacon wafted into the room as though carried on the breeze with the sole purpose of tempting her. Quickly she threw on her terry robe and glided down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Bacon! My God, where did you get it?" she asked, reminiscent of a delighted child who has just glimpsed the gifts left by Santa on Christmas morn.

Scurrying to the stove in bare feet, she snatched a thick brown slice, still sizzling, from the paper towel where it drained.

"Careful, Red, you'll get burned," Nate warned taking in her freshly washed and robed appearance, seeing in her the little girl she must have been. Again, he was stung by protectiveness and a compulsion to find out all there was to know about this complex woman. "I distinctly remember you telling me you had a craving for bacon and as always, your wish is my command."

"Not always," she said petulantly.

He swung from the stove to face her but she quickly turned away. "You're referring to last night." It was a statement not a question.

Setting the plate of bacon and toast on the heavy oak table next to the bowl of scrambled eggs, he motioned for her to be seated. They ate in silence, the previous mood tainted by the mention of what had happened between them. As soon as Blythe was finished, Nate shoved the dishes to the side and when she made a move to leave, he grabbed her hand, pulling her back in the chair, coercing her till she met his eyes. "I'm sorry, darlin', but you're not going anywhere till we've talked this thing out."

Her blank stare masked any sign of emotion she might have felt but Nate was undaunted. "You're the one who brought it up by insinuating your wish isn't always my command...meaning last night. But I don't buy it. You wished it. You just can't admit to yourself you wanted it every bit as much as I did. Don't get me wrong, Red. I'm not proud of the way it happened. Never in my life have I forced myself on anyone...and for that...well, I truly am sorry. But don't insult me by claiming you didn't wish it. What happened between us—"

"Was a mistake," she interjected, void of expression, her voice a cool even monotone. "Fine! Apology accepted. May I go now?"

Nate took a deep breath. "Be as fuckin' bitchy as you want but you're gonna hear me out. I am not going to be intimidated like those other poor bastards you're used to toying with. Under all that pomp and tough act you put on, there's...I don't know, something almost esoteric about you. I saw it the first time I laid eyes on you in Tahoe."

"Oh, honestly, you really do think you've got all the answers, everything all figured out. Well, you don't! You're wrong...wrong about a lot of things."

"Like what? Tell me. I'm willing to learn."

"Oh, I just bet you are," she replied insolently, giving him a sidelong glance beneath veiled eyes. But much to her chagrin, he flashed a brilliantly confident smile. "You're such a smartass, damn it! And...and..."

"And what? Spit it out," he urged, lips curling up sardonically.

"And so wrapped up in yourself. You don't know when you really did see me for the first time. Well, for your information, it wasn't in Tahoe. It was Dallas...the opening of Chance's. You're so damned smart you don't even remem—"

"Shh," he said gently, putting a hand up to cover her mouth. When she was quiet, he took her damp curls and fluffed them about her face. Images began to flood his mind. Images of swirling copper hair that created a halo about the woman who raised her head to briefly look into his eyes. He'd been so wasted and so much had happened that night. It wasn't that he'd forgotten. It was more that he'd thought it had been a dream. She'd disappeared so quickly. No wonder there had been something so inexplicably familiar about Blythe.